#but life keeps touching out of blind faith.
Text
i learned about the devil’s hole pupfish and it made me see the world like a child again
#i don't know if i want to write a poem about this.#don't you see? don't you understand? we are one planet but we are still infinitely vast and irrevocably beautiful#we are our own contained universe! those fish are so small#you can look at almost their entire habitat in one picture.#but... i don't know. i wanted to be a marine biologist as a child#it was so important to me and i wanted the world to be peaceful to itself and then i got older and it stopped being peaceful#i raised money for charities doing bake and craft sales as a kid. all i wanted was to understand the exact nature of what i had#been born into.. but i think i did. i think i understood it better as a child than any other time#the peace is found in the population surge. the peace is found in the sea in the places where light can no longer touch#but life keeps touching out of blind faith.#i don't know. i feel a maternal sense of protection over these fish. it is such an amazing phenomenon that they exist around us#it is a gift we have been given. and it is terrifying to realize that the planet is so animated beyond just ourselves. that humans are not#the only complex and interesting forms of life on earth. but it is so important to understand.#we are all here together. the meaning of life is inextricable from its fragility. we are all here together.#i'm not high. i just really love fish
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
Being in a Secret Relationship With Him - Ghost Headcanons
Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader
Summary: You were a member of his team, his right hand. You knew two shouldn't have but you fell in love.
You were his right hand
Before your confession, he was
Cold
He kept his distance
He only called you by your code name
But he did trust you and looked out for you
He kept it strictly professional
Your confession happened after a very very dangerous mission
You two found yourselves surrounded
You were certain this was the end
"Before I die, I would like to tell you, Lieutenant, that I care deeply about you, I love you, and if you don't feel the same, that's fine. I just wanted you to know that I love you."
But he did
"Copy, I love you too."
How you managed to get out of there was a mystery
Skill if you were honest, and luck
But you got out
You expected everything to go back as it was
But it certainly didn't
After your confession,
The others were blind, but you did keep it a secret for a reason
You only allowed yourself soft touches and hushed whispers
You two had your own channel to communicate
During missions, he would make extra sure you were always by his side
You wouldn't get hurt
He would remove the mask when he’s with you
He would take any hit or bullet instead of you
You have to scold him for that but the kiss he would give you as an apology would make you forget it all
Sneaking into each other's room at night
Sneaking into each other's tents at nights
Hushed quiet promises to survive, to never let anything break you two apart
Stolen glances
Stolen touches and kisses
You being the most important person in his life
Him calling you cute nicknames in private
Love
Darling
My Girl
Sweetheart
Sweetcheeks
Praising you
Scolding you for being reckless
Kissing each other's injuries
Him getting a tattoo that reminds him of you
It would be on a very visible spot so he would catch a glimpse on the battlefield
It would keep him going
You would often give him massages
You would often kiss his neck
He would have to hold himself back from marking your neck
You two thought you kept your relationship secret very well
Little did you know that everyone noticed and were happy for the two of you
Taglist: imreadinggoaway @fleursirvart @v-2bucky ehsebastiancrunch-time-sports @pxstelrainbow ablogbypeteparker liamssmilersmexylemony @greenarrowhead feelingsareharddd @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @avengers-r-us @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster celebsimagine @capsiclesdoll snoopy3000 @firstangeldragonranch @puknow @crazzyter @alwayshave-faith @soleil-dor @alex12948 scream-kiwi79 @lxdyred @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @liveforkarljacobs @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @paola-carter
~Masterlist~
ˇAO3ˇ
#ghost#ghost x reader#ghost imagine#ghost imaignes#ghost x you#ghost fanfiction#simon riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley imagine#simon riley imagines#simon riley fanfic#call of duty#call of duty x reader#call of duty x you#call of duty imagine#call of duty imagines#call of duty modern warfare#modern warefare#modern warefare 2#modern warfare#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley imagine#game character
1K notes
·
View notes
Note
Prompt: Tav that knows absolutely 0 offensive spells and skills, like she only knows buffs or healing spells. I don’t know what class she’d be, or if she’d be an ordinary civilian, but I don’t know if she’d be the leader. I’d like to think she’d jump at the chance to create an alliance with Astarion once his vampirism is revealed.
I think the closest for a zero-offensive Tav would probably be a life cleric of sorts who just has support spells and nothing else. So spells such as bless, Healing word or cure wounds, shield of faith etc.
Astarion x Pacifist Tav
You were never the fighter sort of Cleric. Seeing yourself as a travelling cleric, healing those in need, instead of fighting in dungeons. Mainly making a small profit by offering ceremony rituals or simple blessings whether they pay you in the end or not, it’s all out of the kindness of your heart.
Even if along the road, a bandit chose to target you only, you would attempt to paralyze or slow their attack, whether it was a hold-person spell or a blindness. Anything to stop you from using physical brute force.
Despite all of your talent, you question how it came to be that the others within your group saw you fit to lead and find a cure for the tadpole in your skulls. Despite your protests of not being the frontline fighter type. However, Astarion offers a solution to your predicament, he’ll keep you safe from harm as long as you do the same for him.
In exchange, he sees you as the perfect person to kill his old master. Besides what else is a vampire lord's weakness than the radiant glow of a cleric, even if you can’t fight with offensive spells, you could perhaps summon an orb of light on par with the power of the sun that will burn him to a crisp.
From what you recalled of vampires during your monastery education, they told you to avoid them as they were nothing but bloodthirsty creatures of the night, hungering for the lives they lost upon their conversions. But Astarion looked different to what they spoke, as if he needed your help, just like those you’ve helped on your travels.
During your fights, you would stay far from the clash of swords, healing and supporting from afar. Ready to heal him whenever he gets hurt, even if it was a small scratch.
Of course, Astarion would tease you over your fussing with him, but deep down he does enjoy the comfort you provide for him that he thought he would never receive after centuries of torment.
At times he does offer to teach you how to fight offensively with a simple blade, but after continually somehow making the blade slip out of your grasp and hesitate to even land a simple swipe upon a training dummy, he relents choosing not to pull you out of your natural comfort zone.
Whilst traversing through the shadow-cursed lands, when the warmth of the sun is out of his reach due to the chilling touch of the shadow curse. You summon small orbs of daylight, emitting the familiar glow of the sun for him to feel the familiar warmth of the sun once again.
72 notes
·
View notes
Text
Got my hands on the script of Anatomy of a Fall, and I couldn't help but compare it with some scenes from the movie because that's how deep I am rn :'D Anyway, here are some of my finds and things I personally enjoyed. I'm sure there are more things to dig out but these are what I wanted to share with the world. The order of my finds will be chronological, for the most part, but keep in mind that sometimes, some scenes were edited to show up later, or earlier than originally intended. Spoilers for the whole movie obviously so you've been warned!
Takes place when Vincent first visits Sandra to discuss Samuel's death. In the movie, Sandra stops Vincent and cuts him harshly, saying "STOP, I did not kill him". Vincent then says a line that I think is pretty iconic in the movie, a sarcastic : "That's not the point. Really". His line is much harsher than on the script, where he's a bit softer. "You don't need to tell me that" implies that he has some deep, loyal faith in Sandra, while "That's not the point" cuts any further discussion. He really doesn't wanna know if she actually did it. Comes from a wish to remain blind still, but with less innocence and a lot of denial. Oh, Vincent.
In the movie, his last line is way better imo, he says "No one's gonna believe that. I don't believe that." I like the emphasis on his opinion rather than the fleeting and impersonal "it's really hard to believe". Truly hits way harder and puts Vincent back in the position of a lawyer.
The rest will be under the cut because I think it's gonna be a wall of text I apologize guys...... This movie does things to my brain.
There's a scene that was cut where Vincent phones Nour while still at Sandra's, which I would have enjoyed a lot but I'll admit it's a bit filler-y. Doesn't add a lot and kinda cuts the serious tone of Sandra's confession, imo, as they discuss the judge's antics in a pretty comical manner. I just love Nour so I'm based......
Another, REALLY long scene that was cut where a medium comes into Sandra's house to feel Samuel's ghost and foreshadows Daniel poisoning Snoop with aspirin. I had a good laugh at that one, honestly. It feels pretty out of place with the tone of the movie, and the personality of the characters even... I can't picture Sandra calling a medium. I'm glad they removed it because the foreshadowing was unnecessary too. It's still interesting that they had planned it however.
This takes place after Vincent finds out about the tape. Interestingly, his whole line was cut after "before he died". In the movie, he never comments on Sandra's affairs/sexuality. He never really asks much about her life at all. He truly is blinded by his wish to shield himself from her inner demons, in order to maintain his undying loyalty towards her. To see what he wants of her...
Another scene that was completely cut (a flashback, I believe?) where Sandra makes Daniel pose for a german photographer to make some money, which Monica dislikes, and then they argue. I think it really frames her as too unsympathetic, so I'm also glad it was cut.
Okay, so now, here comes The Big Change. The scene where Vincent and Sandra drink together after the first trial was heavily altered, because its tone in the movie is pretty tense when compared with the lightheartedness of the script. In the script, they laugh and reminisce together about the past and even kiss at the end of the scene. In the movie, none of was I screenshot happens : instead of playing along with the 'firing Vincent' suggestion, the scene ends with Sandra scolding Vincent for judging her in his head. Vincent backs off and the scene ends. Another instance of him not pressing emotional depth to shield himself.
There are other scenes I liked (many that touch upon Sandra's books) but I'll stop there. Hope you'll enjoy that... I might draw some of these so stay tuned... This movie has absorbed my soul but it feels good to be alive, thank you Justine Triet.
#anatomy of a fall#anatomie d'une chute#justine triet#vincent renzi#sandra voyter#not art#im posting it on my artblog because i wanna find this again and store everything about my lawyer era in one place#i didn't translate anything because that would take some time but hmu if you need a translation or if something's unclear#i didn't proofread this and my native language isn't english so picture a crazy frenchie going about their theories to you okay?#fits the movie imo
82 notes
·
View notes
Text
religion’s in your lips
JOEL MILLER X FEM!READER
summary: after a quick brush with death, you start to see your life in a new light
warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut, angst, established relationship, love as a religion, religion talk, corruptification of reader if you squint, fingering, unprotected p in v, oral (m receiving), past traumatic experience, smut takes place in jackson
wc: 1k
— — —
It was silly, you think. How you used to pray for the world. How you made bargains with God for small slices of normalcy, for the virus to stop, to just make it through the night alive. All blind faith when you truly think about it.
Because where was he when you were inches away from death, begging with your last breath?
God didn’t help you. Not the God you knew, anyways.
With the amount of blood spilling out of your wound, you should’ve died. Would have just been another body count for the assholes who attacked you, but to your surprise, a hand rolled your body over. There were gasps and subtle arguing before someone lifted you off the cold pavement. With your head lolled to the side, you managed to take a peak from the corner of your eyes. All you saw were brown curls and a patchy beard before you blacked out.
Days later, you woke in a haze to find that same person looking over you.
All those nights of praying were utterly useless, you realized. Now, you know better because it wasn’t God who saved you. This man did.
Now, Joel Miller was the only person you’d go on your knees for.
Looking up from your position, Joel’s head is pulled back in bliss as your mouth works his length. You hum in satisfaction when he lets out those guttural groans. It was like melodies to your ears.
“Fuck, darlin’ you’re doing so good for me,” he praises, looking down at you. He tugs onto your hair and pushes you deeper. “Just like that,” he moans. “Just a little more,” he says as he starts to fuck himself into your mouth, an indication that he was nearing his climax. “You gon’ take me like a good girl?”
You struggle to nod with his cock deep down your throat. He chuckles before wiping away your tears and finishes in your mouth, spilling that sweet salty taste of him into you.
Pulling back, you smile when you see the pleasure in his eyes and swallow every last drop of him like it was the sweetest wine.
It takes no time for him to lay you on the bed, peeling off every single piece of clothing that touched your skin.
Running his large rough hands over your body, you shutter against his touch. He makes his way up, gently kissing the spot where your thighs and hip meet before scattering more kisses across your stomach and breasts—especially on that old jagged scar where every single kiss of his felt like your revival.
You audibly gasp when he cups your sex, pressing onto it with just enough pressure to tease you. “Joel,” you whisper with steadying breaths. “Joel, please.”
“Hmm?” he mumbles against your neck.
“Want you,” you beg, eyes pleading. “I want to feel you.”
At that, he dips a finger into your core and you let out a desperate whimper. “So wet already,” he teases. “This what you needed, darlin’?” he asks, adding another digit.
It was pathetic how quickly you succumbed to his touches.
You nod. “Feels so good,” you breathe out. “Want you so bad.”
Joel groans, cock hardening once again against your body. When he enters you all the way with a grunt, your eyes roll to the back of your head. No matter how wet you are or how much he preps you, you always feel the stretch because he was so fucking big.
“Keep your pretty eyes on me,” he gruffs, and you slowly steer your eyes back to his. “Good girl,” he says, voice low before picking up his pace and fucking you senseless. “Don’t cover your mouth, wanna hear you.”
His name on your tongue sounds holy, almost like a prayer echoed throughout the empty house. Joel. Joel. Joel.
“I know, darlin’, I know,” he murmurs. “Fuck. Love it when you say my name like that.”
“I can’t,” you breathe out, feeling like you were about to rip in half with the way he’s rutting into you. “Joel,” you whimper, “I can’t tak—”
“You can,” he rasps, “I know you can. Said you’d do anything for me, right? Be good for me. I’ll make you feel good, promise.”
You do what he says and take all of him. And just like he said, it was good. So good that it only takes a few minutes before you’re blinded by your own orgasm. He comes shortly after, filling you up with his essence before resting his forehead against yours while he fucks his spend into you.
Taking your mouth with his, he pulls you into a deep kiss. “Did so well for me, sweet girl.”
Your arms find their way around his torso as the two of you lay there coming off your high. Sometime after, Joel gets up and comes back with a wet towel to help you clean up. You couldn’t help but admire him from your spot on the bed as the warm light from the lamp illuminates him from behind.
Grabbing onto his arm, you pull him back to you, not caring about the mess you made on the mattress because right now, nothing matters. All you wanted was him.
He smirks at your neediness. “What would you do without me?” he jests.
But it’s true, you think. You wouldn’t be here without him. After recovering from your injury, you had nowhere to go, you didn’t even know where you were so he let you tag along with him and Ellie all the way back to Jackson which ended up giving you the normalcy you had always wanted.
Then came the first touch. The way his fingers played between your thighs and the feeling of him against you for the first time beneath tangled sheets showing you what true heaven felt like. And it was something akin to being reborn again.
Joel saved you in more ways than one.
You already knew it then. Knew it the moment you woke up after your mere brush with death and saw those beautiful brown eyes staring back at you. Knew it then that he had become your purpose.
That you’d devote your entire life to him.
Joel had become your God.
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x y/n#joel miller fic#joel miller angst#joel miller smut#joel miller one shot#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal x you
534 notes
·
View notes
Text
more than just friends (part 3) - steve rogers
pairing: Steve Rogers x female reader
warnings: Angst – this part has the least amount of angst from all previous parts, fluff – flasback of how reader and steve use to be, a touching moment between steve and reader, reader being in the med bay at the compound – nothing graphic described.
summary: Things with Steve are still tense, but with the sudden occurrence of you being injured, the tension has lessened. However, Steve is left with life decisions that determine how things pan out for him. You play a vital role for him and having you there is important, even if it doesn’t seem so.
word count: 1.8k
a/n: here’s part 3 – i thought this might be a good ending, but I wanna continue it to at least a part 5. reasons being so that you guys could have a chance in seeing steve redeem himself.
minors/ageless blogs dni.
Masterlists
part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5
Your eyes watched as he aimlessly walked around the venue. His eyes roamed around, looking from one couple to another. A tinge of sadness was hidden behind his piercing blue eyes. They eventually made their way to you. The edged of your lips automatically perking up. He immediately started making his way to you.
“I was looking for you,” he said leaning against the bars counter, where you had been seated.
“And now you’ve found me,” you reply happily, running on liquid courage.
Steve watched as you took another sip from your wine glass.
“How many of those have you had?” he asked with an amused smile.
“Not enough,” your chuckle and down the rest of it.
It had been a long day filled with the endless chaos of Tony and Pepper’s wedding. The day started at the crack of dawn and wouldn’t end until the light of the next day.
“It was a beautiful day, hmm?” he gazed at you and then back at the drink in his hand.
“Beautiful indeed,” you look to Tony and Pepper who were lovingly dancing together. You were happy to see Tony finally get the life he deserved, it’s something you wanted for all your friends.
It was no secret that you were a hopeless romantic. You wanted a happy ending one day. With a loving partner, potentially a family and a few pets to keep the happiness growing.
“You ever think about having a happily ever after?” you curiously ask.
The question surprised Steve, but he took time to process the question. He did want the cliché American happily ever after. His friends from the 40’s got their happy endings and now his modern-day friends were getting theirs.
“I guess I wouldn’t mind it. Coming home to a loving wife, maybe a kid or two if we wanted…” he trailed off and met your eyes as you nodded in understanding and continued to gaze at the dance floor.
“How about you? Is that something you want?” he wanted to know what your ideal life would be.
“Honestly… I just want to be loved. I want a life filled with all the predictable cliché stuff; you know? But I think I’d also like a nice quiet life, away from the harsh reality we fight against,”
Your eyes had yet to meet Steve’s – who was looking at you with an unknown emotion. However, a sense of longing was clearly present in them. For once, Steve found himself wanting to share a similar future to yours.
(flashback over)
It felt like an out of body experience as you recalled the memory. That was the beginning of whatever 'relationship' you and Steve shared, till the faithful night of his harsh words.
Your eyes were heavy, and you were struggling to open them. The prominent sounds of beeping could be heard. When you finally did manage to open your eyes, the striking glow of the sun blinding your gaze for a split second.
Someone had been holding your left hand, gripping it tightly, when you looked to see who it was – you were met with an increasing heartbeat that could be heard through the heart monitor. Steve sat hunched over as he slept while holding your hand. As you look around the room, you recognize it as the med bay at the compound. You try to recall the moments leading up to you being here and Steve’s voice echoes through your mind.
“Y/n, sweetheart. I need you to keep your eyes open for me, okay? I want your eyes on me,”
You tried to take your hand out of Steve’s hold to sit up properly and possibly reach over for a glass of water, but your sudden movement caused Steve to stir. His eyes fluttered open as he blinked away his sleep.
The first thing he noticed was the absence of your hand in his.
He looked to you and saw you staring back at him with wide eyes.
“Y/n? you’re awake!... I need to call Dr. Cho,” he went to press the button which would request assistance.
“N-no… not yet,” your words halted his movements. He was now closer to you and looked to you in worry.
“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
“No, I just need a moment… what happened?” you reached over for the glass of water, but Steve had already gone ahead to give it to you. He placed it back on the side table once you were done and his hand automatically grasped yours again.
“The mission that you and Peter went on was compromised and you got shot. Dr. Cho said it wasn’t critical, but you were unconscious for more than 24 hours,” he explained and fiddled with your fingers, a habit he did to distract himself.
You nodded at his words and watched him carefully. His tone held fear, something you weren’t used to seeing Steve experience.
“Is Peter okay?” you asked recalling the look of sheer panic he had when you were shot.
“A bit shaken up, but he’s okay… he’s a good kid,” Steve commented with a small smile.
“Kid? You know him and I are the same age, right?” you chuckle.
“But he’s not you,”
A day had passed, and you were discharged to go back to your room but were told to use the next few weeks to recover. Peter had taken it upon himself to help you around the compound.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” he said as he sat on your bed where you were laying, staring at the ceiling.
“I wouldn’t be okay if it weren’t for you,” you moved your head in his direction and smiled appreciatively.
“Steve was the reason we were able to get back to the compound that quickly. Don’t tell him I said this, but the look in his eyes that day made him look like a mad man. He was frantic and wouldn’t leave your side,”
You looked back to the ceiling and began to wonder.
Steve obviously cared for you. He went out of his way to make sure you were okay, even before you got shot. During the ‘professional treatment’ phase, he had resumed back to how he was before your argument. That didn’t hinder your thoughts though, he would have to do more to earn your forgiveness.
Bored.
The perfect word to describe how you felt. It seemed like everyone was busy doing something.
You walked through the halls of the compound, aimlessly wondering and looking for something to do. Your recovery hindered your ability to kill time in the training facility, so you found yourself walking towards the same spot where you set up the picnic.
As you walked closer to the spot, you saw Steve sitting a few feet away on a bench. Feeling the familiar flutter of butterflies in your tummy, you made your way toward him.
“Hey,” you greeted, bringing him out of his daze. He looked in your direction and an automatic smile made its way to his lips.
“Hi,” he smiled and patted the seat next to him.
“What’re you doing out here?” you asked curiously.
“Just taking in some fresh air and thinking. How’s your wound? How’re you feeling?” he asked looking at the spot where you were shot.
“It’s okay, a slow recovery, but its okay,” you smile and assure him.
An awkward silence had surrounded the two of you. The scene before you was a sad contrast of how things once was.
“I uhm…”
“So-”
You both spoke at the same time and then chuckled.
“You go first,” he nodded.
“No, you. I miss hearing our voice,” the words slip passed your lips before you can stop them, but the smile on Steve’s lips quickly erases the feeling of regret.
“Okay… well uhm, I’ve decided to start... therapy,” he said looking at his hands. “I’ve been thinking about it and after speaking to Bucky about how it’s made things better for him… I realized how much of trauma I’ve retained from the war and the adjustment to living in a new age of time,”
You listened intently as he spoke, the vulnerability in Steve’s voice was heart aching.
“I think it’s a good idea,” your tone held encouragement and displayed the concern you felt for him.
“Yeah?... I think so too,” a small smile graced his lips.
You allowed yourself to get lost in thought for a moment. This was a big step for Steve – you knew it took a lot for him to admit that he needed therapy. In fact, it hadn’t crossed your mind before. Your line of work basically requires you to endure events and situations that could only be helped with therapy.
“I think it would be an even better idea if we spoke to Fury about establishing a psychologist or therapist to stay at the compound. For whoever may need it. We deal with a lot from being avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D agents,” you explain to him.
“I’ll set up a meeting with him about it,” Steve nodded and took your hands in his, moving closer to you.
“There’s something else I want to say to you…” he trailed off, his eyes were set on the ground before meeting yours.
“The words I said that night- Y/n. I didn’t mean any of them. My mind was clouded with anger, which shouldn’t have been directed towards you. And I’m not going to blame my issues or trauma on it, because it was uncalled for. I just want you to know that I didn’t mean it. You’re not a second option. You’ve been so good to me since we’ve met and I don’t want to throw that away because of my stupidity,”
Your hands remain in his as each word leaves his lips. You had already established that you knew his words weren’t true, and his apology was genuine. Which is why your next few words were chosen so carefully.
“For me to know you’re true about your words – we’re going to have to go very slow to become normal again. I’m still here for you, I always will be, but right now, you need yourself more than you need me,” you lean your forehead against his and close your eyes.
The intimate moment shared between you two solidified to Steve that there was no one else like you. No one who would say or do the things the way you do.
“I love you,” is all he whispers.
tagging those who reblogged/commented:
@paarthurnax59 @terry2227 @sweater-bee @niffala @superforgottensoul @haruvalentine4321 @steve-language-rogers @slxttyro @themrsrogers
#steve rogers#steve rogers fanfiction#steve rogers fanfic#steve rogers angst#steve rogers fluff#steve rogers x you#steve rogers x y/n#steve rogers x reader#marvel#marvel fanfiction#marvel fanfic#angst#fluff
242 notes
·
View notes
Text
It just occurred to me how much you and I don't realize how damn dreary and lonely Sakuma Rei's childhood was.
I mean, we know that, but just THINK ABOUT IT FOR A SECOND.
You're lonely. You're just damn lonely. You don't go to school because your family doesn't keep in touch with the outside world and can't stand sunlight. And besides, you also can't stay in the sun long enough to make any close acquaintances. You don't have friends your age.
But you are not alone only in a society for which you are too "vampire". You are also lonely in your family, because you are not a "vampire" enough and can feel relatively good during the day. Therefore, during the daytime you are sitting in a house in which there is absolutely no one to talk to, because even your brother, the only person of your age, is now in a semi-conscious state and you are NOT ABLE TO HELP HIM IN ANY WAY. But your family is proud of this feature and it seems to you that you are the only one who cares about it.
However, at night, when your whole family and you are awake, you are still lonely, because you are just a child in a crowd of adults who does not understand the charms of all this "vampire aesthetics" and absolutely does not tolerate the taste of blood that his family drinks on holidays. But apart from your family, you have no one to talk to, because all the other people SLEEP AT NIGHT. Therefore, you are sitting at home again and you feel that your loneliness does not stop for a second.
This all sounds terrible already, but there is something else. YOU ARE SIMPLY AN UNIMAGINABLY COMPREHENSIVELY GIFTED PERSON. You are so smart that even the adults in your family do not treat you as a child or as an equal. For them, you are something like a guiding light. You are afraid of this responsibility because you are a small child in this nightmarishly huge world, so you try to meet the expectations placed on you by working, working and working on yourself, over and over again absorbing a lot of knowledge that scares you more and more and instill in your childish heart anxiety, and it even more instill in you you have faith in your own insignificance and incompetence.
Your life is an anxiety and fear that you are NOT ENOUGH.
And when you finally get out into the real world, you, still a child, are even more convinced of that. Even for other adults, you turn into a god, omniscient and omnipotent, solving all problems. There is a growing feeling in your heart that you are responsible for the happiness of everyone in this world just because you are talented, because you are "special". And the fear of the world, the fear of responsibility, is growing and growing. And you, despite the many people who crowd around you and expect you to be "special," you're still a DAMN LONELY KID who doesn't even have friends.
And you are alone, you have no one to tell about your experiences, because if everyone around you says that you are special and should help everyone around, then that means that it really is. You believe that because you're still just a kid.
And this responsibility for the future of the family, for the well-being of your brother, for the happiness of other people, for your future, for the future of others, for the future of everyone you meet, falls on your shoulders with a heavy, huge burden and you, a scared, anxious child, implicitly carry it on yourself, because EVERYONE IS SURE THAT THAT'S HOW IT SHOULD BE.
And you don't fit into the society of ordinary or unusual people, because you are "special" to everyone. For some you are a monster, for others you are a deity, for others you are an object for blind imitation and for no one you are not "Sakuma Rei". You're growing up, more and more people are crowding around you, they're from different schools, from different places, from different countries, but you're still lonely.
It's such a disgusting, dreary nightmare, just think about it.
#ensemble stars#enstars#rei sakuma#when it formed in my head i felt PAIN#he talked about how as a child he was afraid of the world and his insignificance#and I just think that in his life there was no one who would support him and refute his fears#Everyone just kept repeating how different he was from the others#and thus reinforced his anxiety
49 notes
·
View notes
Text
Here are some amazing bottom Louis fics posted or completed during the month of August. We really hope you enjoy this list and that you give these fics a lot of love. Happy reading!
1) Untamed Desire | Explicit | 1333 words
Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.
Harry isn‘t happy with the new securities work etiquette.
2) Bet On It | Explicit | 2945 words
Note: The main pairing in this fic is Louis/OMC.
“We should make a bet,” Louis says out loud, waiting for Dante to look up from his tablet and see Louis’ pouty lips.
“Not a fucking chance.”
3) The Best Of Friends | Not Rated | 3226 words
This is mostly just narrative. So if that's not for you...well too bad. Oh, and top!Harry Bottom! Louis. So fucking long.....
4) Broken Nest | Mature | 3858 words
Louis hopes no one touches his nest, and when someone does, Harry is there to save him.
5) We Didn't Get It Right But, Love, We Did Our Best | General Audiences | 4965 words
“I can't be arsed to call Harry, it’s his fault” He said, a petulant huff to his tone that would have had Oli smirking to himself on a normal day. “This only happened because I was climbing on the counter to get the bath stuff he keeps where only his obnoxiously long arms can reach.”
And really, Louis deserved the feeling that almost winded him when he went to show how he’d had to stretch. The sudden movement felt like ripping a hole through Louis’ skin, and if that hadn’t shut the omega up the genuine fear on his best friend’s face finally did. Damn karma, damn his stupid little animated hands.
6) Snow Storm Rut | Mature | 5560 words
Request: So basically Harry, Louis, Liam, Zayn, and Niall were chilling at a picnic until it started snowing so they all went home. Louis was driving with Harry when they got a text that the storm was so heavy they needed to put the car next to the road. Suddenly, Harry felt his rut coming and needed an omega.
7) Wildest Dreams | Teen & Up | 17383 words
When Harry saw Louis at the Met Gala, it was love at first sight. Except for the fact that Louis has a boyfriend. Louis is head over heels for his beloved boyfriend, he’s sure they are gonna marry one day. But will Harry change all of that?
8) Only the Brave | Not Rated | 20032 words
He can do this.
That’s the phrase Louis’ repeating nonstop, like a mantra that will help keep him upright and fighting. He can do this. He has to believe he can do this, or he’ll drop to the floor, exhausted, dead, or whatever, and he refuses to make his efforts go to waste like that. He’s a warrior, he has what it takes to help defeat the enemy. He just needs to make it to the City, and he’ll be fine.
9) Science & Faith | Mature | 36442 words
Louis Tomlinson is a science major who's dedicated his life to proving that love doesn't actually exist.
Harry's the philosophy major determined to prove him wrong.
10) I Would Rather Go Blind | Mature | 67788 words
"I would rather go blind" is a heartfelt coming-of-age story set in 1960s England, where societal expectations clash with personal identity, and a young man named Henry embarks on a transformative journey at Oxford University.
Harry Styles, the son of a renowned lawyer from a traditional and affluent family, steps onto the prestigious grounds of Oxford with a mix of anticipation and trepidation. Caught between the weight of his family's expectations and his own desire for self-discovery, Harry seeks solace and understanding amidst the bustling student life.
It is in this unfamiliar world that Harry crosses paths with Louis Tomlinson, an enigmatic and free-spirited fellow student. Louis possesses an intriguing blend of charisma, wit, and fearlessness that captivates Harry from the moment they meet. Drawn to Louis's magnetic personality, Harry finds himself irresistibly pulled into a realm of adventure, rebellion, and a newfound sense of liberation.
Set against the backdrop of a transformative era for LGBTQ+ rights, "I would rather go blind" explores the struggles, triumphs, and personal growth of a young man grappling with his sexual identity in a time of societal conservatism.
12) Save Me (From Myself) | Explicit | 159327 words
The problem with being friends with Liam Payne was that he had a lot of friends... and forced them to be around each other.
When they finished high school, both Louis and Harry were equally relieved that they wouldn't have to tolerate each other constantly or whatever it was that they did.
For five years, it worked out perfectly. They'd only had to see each other a handful of times.
Unfortunately, Liam had to go and get engaged, ask them to both be groomsmen, and then go full groomzilla on their arses. With just twelve weeks to plan the 'perfect' destination wedding and throw every ridiculous pre-wedding celebration Liam and his fiancée stumble across, it was safe to say they were firmly back in each other's lives.
And no one could have predicted that was exactly what they needed.
Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.
You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.
124 notes
·
View notes
Text
Masterlist
Fandom works! So much here...
All reader inserts are female.
Marvel
Bucky Barnes
T.L.C.
Girl Dad
Reds and Whites
Not Even a Candle
Reparations - 18+
Prologue One Two Three Four
Snow & Ice - 18+
One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen
Frank Castle
Kiss Cam
A Touch of Crazy
Brothers In Arms
Frank Castle x Family headcanons
Nobody Puts Baby in a Corner
Time and Time and Time Again - 18+
A Baby Shower for Frankie
Two Pink Lines
Two to Tango - 18+
Baby Talk
Paper Ring
Blooded
The Opposite of Soft - 18+
Gone Off Half Cocked - 18+
Butterflies On Fire
A Stitch in Time
Look Where You’re Going
I Do
Matt Murdock
On Blind Faith - 18+
ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN
Headcanons
Steve Rogers
I Love You, But... - 18+
Shadow and Bone
Jesper Fahey
A Better Distraction - 18+ - Completed
One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve
Kiss & Tell
A Good Shot
Ruse
Little Lantsov
An Unexpected Prince - sequel to Little Lantsov
Tender
Trigger
Swap With Me - 18+
He’s A Criminal and He’s Mine
Safe Inside, Out of the Rain
Laundry Day
The Law of Loss
You’re The Reason I Hate Champagne
There Goes My Life - An Assortment
One Two Three Four Five Six
Mal Oretsev
Twice Wounded - sorta 18+
Nikolai Lantsov
Patched - 18+
All Patched Up - 18+ - sequel to Patched
Monkey in the Air
Daddy and The Fox
To Be His Queen - 18+
Kaz Brekker
Stray - request prompt
A Murder of Crows - Miniseries
Part One Part Two
Memento Mori - request prompt
Green - request prompt
Love is a Battlefield
Set, Charge, Boom
The Magpie Verses - Completed
Take Off The Mask , Caught , The Crow and The Magpie , Unmasked
Aleksander Morozova
Trouble Just Walked In - sorta 18+
Matthias Helvar
Scrubbed Clean
Tolya Yul-Bataar
Awoken
Top Gun: Maverick
Bob Floyd
A Soft Landing - 18+
Red Flag Week
Baby. On. Board.
Jake Seresin
Out of Bounds I, II, III, IV, V, VI - 18+
Bradley Bradshaw
Jukebox Jive
Lockwood and Co.
George Karim
Death and Doughnuts
A Personal Experiment - 18+
Stuck in the Middle With You - 18+ - requested
Oh Dear Baby - fic idea from @the-biscuit-agreement
Oh How Time Flies - sequel to Oh Dear Baby
Ghosts I Get, People Are Crazy
Anthony Lockwood
Between a Tree and a Lockwood - sorta 18+
Honey, I’m Home - 18+
Delirium
His Mistake
The Invitation
Walt de Ville
The Flower and The Serpent - 18+
one two three four five six seven eight nine ten
Little Women (2019)
Laurie
Sugar & Spice - 18+
one
two
Zombies (Disney)
Zed Necrodopolis
Awkward Question
Betwixt
Midnight Resolution - 18+
Leo Grande
Three Day Hire - 18+
One Two Three Four Five Six Seven
A Very Grande Christmas
Austin!Elvis
Sky High
The School for Good and Evil
Rafal Mistral
The Sky Is Falling
Mirror, Mirror, On The Wall
Under The Blood Moon - 18+
The Heirloom and The Heir
Evil, Be Mine
You Shall Be Loved
Rhian Mistral
The Storian’s Favour
Back from the Brink
Bubbles
To Sleep and Not To Wake
Ben Hardy Characters
Billy / Four
Hold Me Close, Don’t Let Go - 18+
The Witcher
Istredd
Chasing Fire - 18+
One Piece Live Action
Roronoa Zoro
Buoyant
A Book and A Nap
Starless - 18+
First Kiss, Last Kiss
Keeping Watch - 18+
Double The Bounty - 18+ - Part One Part Two
Sanji
Tall Blond Pacifier
Sand and Stars
Wind and Rain - 18+
Monkey D. Luffy
First Blushes
Usopp
In The Moment
OPLA Men
Dance With Me
Christmas Drabbles 2023
Scent of Pine - Shanks
Neatly Tied With A Bow - Mihawk
Sugar, Spice and Everything Nice - Sanji
The Perfect Excuse - Zoro
Fullmetal Alchemist
Edward Elric
Happy Birthday To You
Rest and Recuperation - 18+
Tale of the Nine Tailed
Lee Yeon
Need - 18+
Sweet Home
Cha Hyun-su
Sunshine Part One - 17+
Let Me Do It
A Shop For Killers
Jeong Jin-man
Breathing
Time - 18+
Misc.
Ready or Not - 18+
342 notes
·
View notes
Text
There had been a few rumors and pondering tales of what happened to Toth. A high priest in the upper echelons of the Church of Divine Wealth, no doubt on track to climb even higher. But then disaster struck, the Church was shaken, and suddenly old Toth was nowhere to be found. Amidst the chaos that went down that night, many assumed that Toth had perished, and his death had been covered up. The entire holy city had felt what had happened deep in the heart of the Church, creating nothing but sheer panic and confusion. Perhaps it was during this blind moment of terror and upset, that Toth either died or was killed. Some started a rumor suggesting that Toth was the whole reason this chaos had occurred, as it was easy to blame someone who wasn't there to deny it. It was believed that Toth had done this, and the Church had him killed and disappeared so that none would know of this treachery. Others think it was sabotage, and Toth fled in the night to avoid the Church's punishment. There are dozens of variations of his tale, and there is no telling which is true, if any. Regardless, the Church keeps these rumors hushed, and they do not speak of Toth any longer. Evidence of his existence still exists in scrolls he wrote, and blessings he granted, but one will find at a point that he simply ceased to exist in the Church. They do not hide this evidence, but will say no more of him, so it gives the impression that the Church believed he indeed just vanished into thin air one night, and no one has bothered to look into it since.
If some had heard of what truly happened to Toth, they would say that half of the tales got it right. Toth didn't die that night, he fled the Church and the holy city, living out somewhere in the wilds. Indeed, Toth had been in the Church when it all went down, when something deep within shook it to its core. As they would say, something cracked the very foundation of the Church of Divine Wealth, and its divine leaders hurried to hide these wounds. But while the esteemed priests of the Church chose to fill these cracks and pretend this failure had never happened, Toth was one who dared to peer inside. He looked into the cracks of the foundation, and saw something deep within the Church that destroyed his faith. He knew he had witnessed something unspeakable, and that the Church would want him dead, so he fled that very night. He escaped into the wilds, and lost himself deep in the unknown. He was able to get out with his life, but he was far from intact.
What he saw ruined his belief in the Church, and made him doubt everything he had been taught. He couldn't even bear to kneel before the golden Ichor, for that godly fluid was now besmirched in his eyes. Once, he was a man who had all the answers, preaching them to the masses and spreading it throughout the world. But now he knows he had been given nothing but lies, and all he had done was spread this infection further. Ruined and desperate, he sought to find his own truth, his own answers, but his journey was met with countless failures. Nowhere he turned gave him the comfort he yearned for, and soon things grew even worse. The Church began to fracture, a civil war within it boiling outward til to infected the world. Countless factions seeing an opportunity for usurpation, and joining the maddened fray. Now, the Church wasn't the only thing ruined for Toth, it was the very land itself, tainted with blood, misery and death. The gods had failed him, man had failed him and now the world itself shattered what little hope he had left. What good was answers, if there was no one left alive to speak it?
It was during the fighting and his deepest misery that he chose to imbibe Feverish Sweat. He had heard that its boiling touch could grant strange dreams and bizarre visions, and he was desperate at this point. All the other fluids had failed, so what was the harm of seeking the heretical for their opinion? He gathered a dose of Feverish Sweat and took it in, giving himself to its warped madness. It was this fever dream that revealed all to him, opening his mind to things he had never known. The visions showed a path, one borne of pallid flesh and crimson branches. Of gods and stars turning to rot, of the very cosmos itself losing to entropy. All his years, he had throttled his genius and pondering to the confines of the human mind, but now he saw a better way. If the grand intellect of man had no answers, than it was time to find a different mind. After that first vision, he tracked down the followers of the Arimakki and demanded to join their ranks. He underwent the Koroni Netsu, and soon gave everything to the burning hives of worm and blight. And that is where some would say the other half of the rumors was right, as the Toth everyone had known perished, though not on that night specifically. Those who undergo Koroni Netsu do not come out the same, as all is burned within the baptismal fever.
His baptism by Feverish Sweat turned him into one of the followers of the Arimakki, forsaking his mind and humanity to join their ranks. However, something within him still clung on as the fever seared his very essence. A fraction of his sanity somehow survived the burning purge, and what awoke from the ceremony was a being of both madness and wisdom. Despite sacrificing so much, Toth still has a shred of his mind intact, and he is the only follower of the Arimakki still capable of speech. He can talk, think and feign the ways of man, yet the Feverish Sweat within him still causes babbling outbursts, erratic thoughts and prophecies of a rotted universe. Toth himself knows he is an anomaly, that he has somehow become something different than the others. He stands between two worlds now, and he understands what powers that grants him. He can now act as the tongue between man and parasite, a speaker for the White Worm and the Vile Red Tree. He can walk amongst Arimakki unharmed, and can still communicate with the people he once belonged to as well. Some would say he is the leader of the Arimakki, but he wields no control over them. Instead, he serves as a maddened brain, a force willing to push the parasites to new heights. The Arimakki have no minds or thoughts to them, they do not dream of anything more than persisting and reproducing. But Toth sees a path, for both parasite and man. A vision that shows that there is a future for this war torn land. Like the Arimakki priests before him, he sees human intelligence as a sickness, our grand thoughts and morals bringing nothing but misery and death. Civilization has only been built to be kicked over again and again, our greatest inventions used to satiate primal blood lust and savagery. Toth sees that these shackles must be cast off, but he also sees that humanity would never admit to its failings. They would cling to the madness of sanity and intellect, even as the world crumbles. So Toth seeks a way to force this change, to personally escort humanity to a new age, not of enlightenment, but of simplicity. Abandon the mind, embrace the purity of the madness. All things are fated to end, this land, this world, this very universe. The rot will claim all, and it is the rot that humanity must seek.
The Church is falling, humanity is doomed to drown in its own blood and the fluids themselves bear no answers. The skies above hold no hope, for the dying gods cannot grant blessings to escape this fate. They have no power in this world, for there is something far greater. If the gods are truly divine and all knowing, than what of the parasites within them? What does that make them? And if all the universe is doomed for entropy, wouldn't the rot be the one god amongst all? If we are all destined for nothingness and decay, than let us join the worms and rejoice.
-----------------------------------------------
"Toth Wormbeard"
Hey, finally a character with an actual name for ol FOI! Crazy ol parasite priest! And also this is the last of my Arimakki batch. For now....
25 notes
·
View notes
Note
I was listening to False Gob by Taylor Swift and thinking very unholy thoughts about Matt Murdock. She really had to sing about blind faith, how the altar is her hips and they should worship that love.
Nonnie, you are onto something here. If we think about the religious imagery in this song, we already have a lot of symbolism that can be related to Matt. It's not solely sexual, it also portrays the kind of unconditional love he would have for his significant other. Being torn between what he wants and his faith in God. Being torn apart IN the relationship because of having blind faith in each other and blindly believing things are going to work out fine with the life he leads on the side because it's impossible not to get caught up with this.
But let's talk about the sexual aspects of this song instead and focus on Matty.
I have some thoughts about that too and as I'm listening to the song, the following scenario came to mind:
18+ under the cut! (TW: religious imagery and symbolism)
You tear each other apart before you put each other back together again. It's a taking and a giving, but it's usually him who takes and you who gives. You fight and you try to understand, and then you make up because living without each other seems impossible.
You jumped into this relationship with the hope of a happy ending, but with every passing day, life got significantly harder to navigate. You blindly believed that it would be easy, but nothing is ever easy when it comes to Matt.
But between the fights that often have you cursing him to hell, there is heaven in every single one of his touches. His lips write poetry on your skin and set your body alight with sensations you have never experienced before.
When you're together, you forget about the constant push-and-pull you find each other in. You forget that the same lips that are capturing each other in the most intimate embrace are capable of uttering words that hurt.
You shouldn't be together, but here you are.
Matt is a religious man, but whenever he is with you, he turns into a sinner of the highest order. The worst part is though, he doesn't mind. With you, he believes in a different God, one that goes beyond anything his catholic little heart should allow - you are the one he prays to, the one he worships, and if he requires punishment, he will kneel for you if you demand him to do so.
You were crazy to think that this would work out, but he would die for you, and he would die between your thighs, too. It's the one place he could never get tired of. He would rather be there than outside where the noise attacks his ears like a sledgehammer and the smell slowly kills him inside; his religion isn't God or Catholicism when you're together, it's your lips, your body, and your sweet, sweet nectar.
He worships at the altar of your hips, whether it is propped up on a bed or the kitchen table. He would do it anywhere if he only gets to hear you moan his name in such ecstasy. For you, he would keep going for years or centuries to come. If you asked him to go to hell with you, he would.
The struggles you're facing, you get away with it. You get away with the fact that the odds have never been in your favor because even though it may be hard, he loves with a devotion that can not be matched up to. He loves so deeply, you can feel him in every crevice of your being and soul, and he continues to worship you like an angel - you are his religion, his God, and the Bible he reads with his fingers as if your most sensitive parts were Braille, and then, when he's done, he will do it all over again if you only beg him to. And you very often do.
Your love comes in different shapes or forms, and you're not afraid to say it, but for Matt, it's hard. He tries to show you in other ways, even if it's just worshipping your body and soul, telling you how good you are, and you take it every time. You're his and he is unconditionally yours. It doesn't matter whether or not it is blind faith that binds you, or the fact Matt finds more enjoyment and redemption in you than in God himself. What matters is that he gets to worship you to show you just how much he loves you, and only when you wrap your thighs around his head as he tastes you, all of you, your, sweet, tears and arousal, he finds his way home.
No matter how long you are apart, he will always come back to you. You're a drug. He is blind in more ways than one, but so are you. But neither of you wants to stop because no matter how painful it is, pain is a powerful motivator.
So the next time he dives between your legs and he hears you moan softly, "Matthew!" He prays to you the way you do to him.
Matthew.
The way his name sounds on your lips is a beautiful symphony. You moan and writhe and he drinks up every last drop of the holy water you give him. You take him to your personal church, you sing for him and baptize him, and he can never get enough.
Matthew.
His fingers dig into your soft skin, sure to leave marks, and he does his due diligence for all the sins he committed, for all the times he hurt you, and the air between you grows less tense as you submit to the pleasure he is so willing to provide.
He spells his name with his tongue as you scream it, and his heart flutters with something other than dread. He devours you, and he shows you just how much he loves you. And in return, to offer him redemption and finally free him from the shackles that bind him.
"Matthew!" It's the last time you utter his name before your legs tense around his head and he gets to drown in your completely.
The world outside disappears; only the bells of your gospel remain.
He kisses the inside of your thigh as he kneels before you, his unfocused eyes searching for something, anything, and you touch his cheek as if to tell him you are here. You won't leave him.
"Such a good boy," you murmur.
"Forgive me," he finds himself whispering over and over again. "Forgive me..."
For he is a sinner and sinners never reach heaven, but in your eyes, in your world, he is already in paradise.
You tug at his cross necklace, clicking your tongue.
"Forgive me," he repeats.
Your voice is bittersweet in his ear as you guide him back to your aching core. He is eager to dive back in, and this time you don't hold back as you use him.
"Matthew," you moan, and then you finally tell him what he needs to hear.
"You're forgiven."
And as you come for what feels like the millionth time that night, you whisper a promise of doing the same to him. All night. And he takes the offer greedily, as long as he gets to worship at the altar of your hips some more.
#take me to church oh lord#matt murdock#daredevil#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock smut#allusions to afab#but other than that neutral reader#lizzi answers#matt murdock thots#thank you for this...lustful picture#false god by taylor swift
86 notes
·
View notes
Note
Pastor!Ian and Angel!Damien. Ian deserves a reward for being so devoted to his faith.
OKAY MY NUMBER ONE WEAKNESS IS PASTOR!IAN
Pastor!Ian/Angel!Damien - Angelic
--
Ian kneels in the front pew of the church. It’s his church, he leads the congregation, and he tries his best, even with temptation around every corner. Last week he had to perform an exorcism on Angela because she had let temptation lead her astray. Ian often has to bow his head and ignore the calls from Amanda, the fortune teller, as she offers to lay out his future with divinity. There is temptation at every turn and Ian tries his best to be a good and humble man, a good pious leader for his flock, to lead them towards salvation and protect them from the evils and the darkness of the world.
On his knees, on the stone floor of the church, Ian clasps his hand and prays to the God he’s devoted his life to for so many years. Quiet, desperate prayers to protect them, protect the small town they live in, to cast away the evils that tempt them, to forgive the sins of the humans he created, and instill Ian with constant faith and guidance to be able to deliver his holy message.
A soft golden light fall through one of the stained-glass images on the windows of the church, creating a colored faint red beam of light on the floor of the church between the pews and the altar. Ian watches as the golden light builds, forms, turns so white and blinding that he has to close his eyes to keep from being blinded by it.
Ian stands on shaky feet and he sees a man where the light once formed. Quickly, he realizes that this is no man, no mortal like himself. This man is tall with hair like icy silver, and eyes a honeyed hazel. He’s dressed in white, pale skin, and then, the most telling of all, huge feathered, snow-white wings that jut from his back.
Ian’s heart races and his mouth is dry.
“An angel?” he asks, his voice a whisper but it echoes around the church all the same.
The angel smiles at Ian, soft, gracious, making Ian feel immensely safe.
“A messenger from God,” the angel says in a voice that is deeper than Ian had expected, but the mere tone fills Ian with warmth. “For one so diligent in his devout faith.”
Ian goes to bow, but the angel catches him by the wrist and stops his movement. His touch is so warm, makes Ian feel like he’s been lit from the inside out. The angel brings Ian’s hand to his mouth and presses a kiss to the center of Ian’s palm.
Ian is acutely aware of all the breath leaving his body, how he shivers at the touch. The angel’s hand slides down the sleeve of Ian’s arm, over his robes, but despite the clothing Ian feels warmth as if his bare skin is being stroked.
“I know the town and your people are troubled. Do not lose heart,” the angel says. He curls a hand around Ian’s waist and then pulls him in close so their bodies touch. Ian is dizzy with the feeling. “Your congregation needs you.”
Is this real? This angel pulling him close and touching him in ways that Ian was told were forbidden to him. Would God send this angel to test him?
As if the angel could read his thoughts, he smiles down at Ian and leans in to brush his lips ever so gently against Ian’s.
“A reward, or motivation, something to keep your spirits up,” the angel explains, their lips meeting again.
Ian loses himself in the kiss, in the way the angel so easily parts Ian’s lips and then his tongue slides into Ian’s mouth. Ian feels too hot, and a hunger he has denied himself for years fills him, opens in the pit of his stomach, begging for more.
The angel folds his wings delicately behind his back and then sinks to his knees in front of Ian on the stone floor of the church. His hands push up Ian’s robes and breathlessly, Ian takes the bunched fabric in his hands. The angel quickly opens Ian’s pants, pulling his dick free from his underwear.
“They need you,” the angel says, looking up at Ian through silvery lashes, as he reaches out and curls fingers around the base of Ian’s dick. “The Lord needs you.”
Ian hisses. He’s never been touched by another person before, only his own hand in his youthful days before he took his vow of celibacy. The pleasure that shoots through him is like fire, and then the angel leans in close and takes the head of Ian’s dick into his mouth.
Ian moans in the quiet of the church, one hand touching the top of the angel’s head, his hair like silk, softer than anything Ian’s ever felt before. The angel sucks at Ian’s dick, radiant warmth and heat surrounding the length of his dick.
All Ian can do is bite his lip, afraid to move, afraid to speak. The fact that this is happening in his church, at the altar no less, it’s blasphemous to say the least, but it also a gift from God, so Ian can only hope that the Lord will let him slide just this once.
The angel dips lower, takes more of him in the exquisite heat of his mouth, bobbing and sucking. Ian, he’s never experienced this, and it’s all so much, too much. He tightens his hand in the angel’s hair and breathes out a hiss of a warning.
“I think I’m; I’m going to finish.”
The angel doesn’t let up. He sucks harder, more fervently, staring up at Ian with hazel eyes and so much warmth and affection that Ian wants to sob. He’s right there, staring into the angel’s eyes as he feels the pleasure take him over, as he comes into the angel’s mouth, and the angelic being swallows down every sinful drop.
He releases Ian, strokes him once, and then tucks him back into his pants, re-doing the zipper and the buckle. Ian lets down his robes. Shame fills him as the angel stands on his feet. He leans in again and he kisses Ian softly. Ian can taste bitterness on the angel’s tongue that he must assume is from him, and how he has tainted a divine creation.
“No sins, no guilt, maintain your work and your flock. The Lord is with you always,” the angel says with a soft smile, cupping Ian’s face as he steps back into the circle of light created from the golden light through the stained glass window.
As quickly as he came, the angel is gone, and Ian is alone in the confines of his church. His guilt is gone, as if the angel had taken any negative feelings with him when he left. Ian feels restored, renewed, ready to go forth and protect his flock.
#dameian#smoshships#polysmosh#ian/damien#damien/ian#my writing#my fics#priest kink#pastor ian#priest ian#angel!damien#prompts#damien's bday prompts#spicy fic#mild spice really
21 notes
·
View notes
Text
My Church
This is... indulgent. Send help. Also, I made the mood board, I'm experimenting.
Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader
Word Count: 8k
Warnings: Smut. Smutty, smut, smut with barely a side of plot. Teasing, sort of public sex, Poe being a simp (my favorite, I love a man in love), p in v, oral public, both female and male receiving. I think that's all. If I missed anything, sorry about it.
Summary: You and Poe dance around each other. Mondays are a time for religion, finding faith and solace in the Maker. But not everyone finds faith the traditional way.
Poe Dameron. He is exactly your type, and the smug bastard knows it. Maybe that’s why you resist him so hard. You don’t hate him, not by a long shot. You flirt with him as hard as he flirts with you. You’ve become engaged in a war of sorts to see who can make the other blush more.
Now, you’ll never say never, but. Poe Dameron is gonna have to really work for it if he really wants it.
Probably.
Maybe.
***
The hangar is just about empty. You’re only a few minutes away from blissful silence and Maker, are you ready. Most folks on base go to service on Mondays, they look for peace, solace, forgiveness for all the things that fighting in the Resistance requires. But you? Your church is when you’re alone on your ship, making the slightest alterations so that she runs smoothly, perfectly. Your life, your team’s life depends on it.
That’s where you feel closest to the Maker, when you’re making things yourself.
Today, you have the biggest migraine, your vision is slowly disappearing in your left eye and the bright sunlight is practically blinding what’s left.
You climb into your ship, wiggling under the console in an awkward position. Laying down at an angle probably isn’t the best for your headache, but it’s quiet, save for the pulse pounding in your ears.
You probably shouldn’t be soldering when you can only see out of one eye, either. But it’s never stopped you before, and it certainly won’t now.
“Isn’t that uncomfortable?” A voice asks above you, scaring you. You jerk, smacking your head on the metal casing and burning your fingers with the white flame.
A strangled cry escapes as you clamp your jaw shut before any curse words can come out. “Dameron!” You shout, aiming a kick at where you think his face should be. Sadly, you miss.
He grabs your ankles and pulls you out easily. “What the hell are you doing?” He huffs, tilting your face to see it better. He disappears as he leans to your left and touches a painful spot on your head.
“Working. Why aren’t you with everyone else?” You demand, swatting his hand away. You had been counting on everyone else being at service.
“Not my thing. Come here.” He grabs your arm and hauls you over to a tool chest. “Sit. You’re bleeding.”
“And you made me burn my fingers.” You grumble.
“And why aren’t you at service?” He asks, even though he already knows the answer.
“Not my thing.” You sigh. You let him fuss over you, bandaging the cut on your forehead. His fingers are soft on your skin, moving easily. You close your eyes against the too-bright light, wondering why you keep saying no to him. You like him, a lot, you have way too much in common not to be friends.
“How’s your head?” He asks quietly.
“I have a migraine, but I had one before you damaged me.” You say, letting your head droop forward against his solid chest. He smells good, coolness mixed with your favorite smells from your ship. Reminds you of home.
“I didn’t damage you. Let me see your hand.” He guides you back up straight and you hold your hand up for him. He puts his sunglasses over your eyes to help with the light and your heart swells a little at the simple gesture.
Seriously, why do you keep saying no again? It’s getting harder to remember. He puts a salve on your fingers before wrapping them tightly.
He’s quiet, too quiet, and you know the question is gonna explode out of him. He just can’t help himself. The tension is rising, it feels like a physical thing, wrapping itself around you like a soft, warm cloak. You like when he gets like this-fighting it until he simply can’t anymore. You can feel his eyes on your lips as he works, and just to tease him, you slowly wet them, biting lightly on your lower one. The invisible cloak gets just a little heavier and you shift, letting your knees spread to either side of his waist.
He lasts just long enough to finish wrapping your fingers. “Go out with me.” He blurts all in one breath, even sounds like one word. Flustered with himself, he hangs his head. You slide off the tool box, pressed tightly against him. The cloak gets heavier and you can hear him swallow thickly.
You cup his chin and turn his face away from yours. His pulse is racing under your fingers and you smile to yourself. Oh yeah. This is why.
“Thanks for fixing me up.” You whisper and press a kiss to his cheek, slow and soft. You feel his hand clench into a fist at your side. You move to step away, his head staying where you left it.
“Uh… m-my sunglasses.” He reminds you.
“Come by my room later and get them.” You smirk, heading for the darkness of your room. You can take the day off to sleep.
So quietly, you almost don’t think you really hear it, he whispers one soft fuck.
***
Poe
His hands won’t stop shaking. You absolutely wreck him. It’s been four hours since you’ve kissed his cheek. His fucking cheek, the most innocent thing you could have done, and it completely scattered his marbles.
Every time he thinks he has the upper hand, you destroy him. And he wants to thank you for it. What the fuck is wrong with him?
He paces outside your door, nerves rattling around his stomach like a loose bolt, trying to gather his courage. He’s never actually been in your room, why would he? Does it smell like you? All flowers and sunshine. What are you doing in there?
He raises a trembling hand, glaring at it before knocking loudly. You don’t answer and he wonders if you’re even inside. Maybe you got rid of your migraine and went out for some fun. He knocks one more time just in case. The door whooshes open in his face and he steps back automatically.
It’s dark in your room. Too dark for him to see very well. He steps inside and the door closes behind him. He stands rooted to the spot while his eyes adjust.
“Poe?” You mumble, your voice thick and husky with sleep and oh, Maker, he wants to join you in that bed.
“Y-yeah.” He clears his throat. “You said to come for my sunglasses.” He says, incredibly lamely.
“Well, come get them.” You taunt from across the room. “There’s nothing in your way.” You promise and he carefully makes his way across, his eyes adjusting quickly.
“Are you feeling better?” He asks.
“A bit. No thanks to you.” You tease and his heart hammers in his chest.
He reaches the side of your bed and looks down, making out your form. His wildly galloping heart slams to a stop and sticks in his throat as he realizes you’re just wearing a bra. You’re on your stomach, bare back exposed to the room, to him, head turned to the side to look up at him through the dark lenses of his glasses.
“What’s the matter?” You ask wickedly and he licks his dry lips. Is it hot in here? Did the temp modulator just kick on?
“Uh… um…. I mean—“ he stammers and you chuckle, rolling over onto your back.
“You okay, Dameron?” You taunt.
“If you still n-need them… I can just get them later.” He lies.
The smile that graces your gorgeous face burns into his memory. It’s predatory, hungry. You love to drive him crazy. Ever since you came to base, he hasn’t given a womp rat’s ass about anyone else. Hasn’t hooked up with anyone, hasn’t looked at anyone. He’s only had eyes for you. And while sometimes he thinks you like him back, you make it so hard to tell.
You push yourself up to your knees, the blanket falling away from your body and it feels like it’s boiling in the room.
“Are you going out tonight?” You ask softly, as if your whole world depends on his answer. A little thrill goes through his chest at the possibility of that before he answers.
“I was thinking about it.” He says; he’s desperate for a drink now. Anything to cool down.
“Hmm.” You hum low and in the back of your throat as you lean against him. “Maybe I’ll go, too.” You say and his pulse thuds in his ears.
“If you don’t feel good, don’t go.” He says like a fucking idiot.
Your hands trail down his arms, scorching his skin until he thinks it just might blister. “I feel perfect right now.” You whisper, lifting his hands and placing them on your bare waist. He can feel the lacy fabric of your underwear on your hips and his throat is painfully dry.
“Did you take anything for your head?” He asks suspiciously, wondering if maybe you were high.
“Do you wanna know what I did to cure my migraine?” You ask softly, leaning closer to him.
Maker, he feels his face heat up as he thinks about you masturbating. “Y-Y/N,” he chokes.
You lift your hands off his chest and remove his glasses, hooking them into the front of his shirt. Your off balance body weight is now just supported by him.
“Your heart is racing.” You comment, laying your hand flat against his chest.
“You’re making me crazy.” He admits without even meaning to.
“Hmm. I like that.” You lean forward, pressing your soft, soft lips to his and his entire brain short-circuits. He registers your perfect lips moving against his, coaxing him out of his frozen state, understands that his hands are touching your bare skin in your bedroom, but it’s like he’s been rendered incapable of doing a damn thing about it.
Your sweet tongue drags across his bottom lip, begging for entrance, and that’s when he starts kissing you back. He holds you closer, fingers pressing into your back, molding you against his frame. Your fingers curl in his hair, nails scraping against his scalp, and Maker help him, he doesn’t know which way is up.
You start to sway on the spot and he holds you tighter, pulling back from the kiss. He guides you back onto the bed gently, resisting when you try to hold onto him.
“Get some more sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He promises.
You sigh and slump back, flinging an arm over your head. “Why’d you have to be such a good kisser?” You grumble and he grins.
“Why’d you have to kiss me?” He fires back. You flip him off and he chuckles, stepping back from the bed. He takes his sunglasses off his shirt and sets them silently on your bedside table. He’d never be able to wear them again, knowing how much better they look on you.
He exits your room and takes a deep breath, lips warm and tingling from your kiss.
You kissed him.
The smile that spreads across his face is stupid and giddy. But he still has no clue if you actually like him, or just like to fuck with his head.
It’s okay, he has all the time in the world.
***
The cantina is loud. So loud, and Poe loves it. Loves the pulsing energy of all his friends drinking and having a good time. He stops outside the door to take a deep, clean breath. Probably the last one he’ll get for a good long while. He pushes through the door and takes stock. A sabaacc game is being played in one corner, a game of pool in the middle.
He stops when he hears a laugh that haunts him; keeps him up at night and teases him all day long. You. You’re perched at the bend in the bar, holding court and telling some story to a group of your friends. Your hand is curled around a glass of dark liquid as you laugh, head tipped back. A look of sheer perfection, he can’t tear his eyes away. Your thin tank top shows off your tone arms, the strip of soft skin along your belly, and more cleavage than he can handle. Your shorts are tantalizing, just gracing the tops of your thighs, your long legs ending in your combat boots. Maker.
His eyes trail up to your neck, the silver chain of your dog tags catching his eye. You lower your head, dazzling smile still in place, and you’re wearing his kriffing sunglasses. Your head turns just a fraction of an inch and he just knows you’ve spotted him. Instead of giving you what you want, which is a reaction, he simply nods at you and walks over to Snap and Jessika playing pool.
Snap claps him on the shoulder, asking if he wants a drink. He shakes his head, thinking it’s probably good to keep his head straight.
“New recruits.” Jessika says, jerking her head over Poe’s shoulder.
He doesn’t want to look, doesn’t care enough to be bothered. But then he hears your voice clear across the noisy crowd.
“Excellent. New blood.” You say, and he knows that tone. His arms cross over his chest, hands balled into fists under his biceps. He wants to look at you, to see if you’re just goading him. But he’s not sure if he wants to know, because what if you’re not? What if you’re really looking for someone else besides him? What if he was never on the table for you?
The new people fill the room and he refuses to turn around. Snap is eyeing him suspiciously and then his eyes widen.
“Um, Mr. Dameron?” A voice starts behind him, timid, unsettling.
He turns around to see a woman, young by his standards lately. She could be pretty, if he couldn’t see you in the background. Instead, she’s plain. He forces his eyes back to the girl in front of him. “Hi.” He says, smiling charmingly suddenly.
Time to find out how you really feel.
“I just wanted to say that I’m a huge fan of yours. Your piloting techniques are an inspiration, and the reason I became a pilot in the first place. There are cantinas all over Yavin-4 that have your holo up, and tables reserved.” She rushes. “They even say that if you come back, you’d drink for free.” She pauses adorably. “Although, they probably say that because they know you’ll never come back.” She shrugs. His eyes flick over to you and you have a man, more of a boy, in front of you, trying to hold your attention.
“You’re from Yavin?” He asks, pleasantly surprised as he lowers himself onto the side of the pool table.
“Yes, sir.” She beams.
He chuckles. “Please, it’s Poe.” He holds out his hand to shake hers. “I didn’t catch your name, darlin’.”
She places her trembling hand in his, and he raises it to his lips, kissing the back of it. “Jara.” She squeaks and he smiles broadly, a sense of elation filling him as your face slowly colors.
“Jara. Well, Jara. If you need anything at all, you let me know. Us Yavinites gotta stick together.” He says and she nods.
“Thank you so much.” She beams.
“Go have a drink, enjoy yourself.” He says and she spins on the spot, turning away from him.
“Dangerous game, pal. Y/N looks ready to kill you.” Snap says, gripping his shoulder tightly.
Poe grins and glances at you before standing and turning back to the pool table. “I think her migraine came back.” He says, a thrill going through his chest. You definitely look mad.
“Oh, she’s getting up.” Snap narrates under his breath. “Oh,” he frowns. “She’s going out back.”
What? There’s nothing out back. It’s a dead end alley that they use for storage and people use for a smoke. And you don’t smoke.
Maybe you just needed some air. It’s fairly loud, and your headache probably hasn’t completely gone yet. If you’re not back in ten minutes, he’ll go check on you.
“Let me know if you see her come back in.” Poe mutters and Snap nods, glancing over his shoulder.
“Her new little friend looks confused.” Jessika chuckles. “Maybe someone should explain your complicated relationship?” She glances at Poe and he frowns.
“What do you mean?” He asks.
“Poe, come on.” She rolls her eyes as though he’s the biggest moof milker in the galaxy. “When she got here, you stopped fooling around with anyone at all. And she’s never hooked up with anyone. She flirts with you. She only gives attention to one person. We all thought you two were together, just… weird about it.” She shrugs and Poe glances over his shoulder at the doorway to the back. It’s completely visible from where he stands, but there’s no sign of you.
“Just go check on her. You’re throwing off my game.” Snap sighs and Poe only hesitates for a second before heading out the same door.
A hand grabs his elbow, pulling him to the left and shoving him against the wall. His heart thuds unreliably in his chest as he looks at your face. Your skin is glowing in the bright moonlight, striking him with how goddess-like you look. Your fingers dig into the flesh of his shoulders as you hold him against the wall, even though he’s not remotely fighting you.
“What. Was. That?” You ask lowly and he frowns, playing dumb.
“What was what?” He asks and you clench your jaw, turning your head away from him. He gently touches your chin and you slap his hand away, cheeks darkening beautifully. “You mean the little girl who wanted to talk to her hometown hero?” He prompts.
“You kissed her hand, you were flirting.” You mutter and he grins.
“I may have kissed her hand, but I kissed you.” He reminds you, touching your chin again, trying to get you to look at him.
You slap his hand away again. “I didn’t like it.” You continue.
“My kiss? Or me flirting?”
“Both.” You huff, annoyed.
“You liked my kiss.” He teases. He has you. The jealousy is coming off you in waves strong enough to tip over a bantha.
“...Hated it.” You protest.
“Want me to do it again?” He asks, his heart knocking into his sternum, it’s beating so hard.
“...Yes.” You grumble.
Finally.
He takes your hand, gentle as can be, and pulls you close. His big hand cups the back of your neck, warm and soft. His thumb brushes along your jaw and he uses it to tilt your head back. With his free hand, he takes his sunglasses off your face and tucks them into your pocket.
His eyes slide down to your parted lips, so perfect. He lowers his head, capturing your mouth with his, so soft and sweet. Your lips move against his, hungry and desperate, just like him. He could spend the rest of forever kissing you, and it still wouldn’t be enough. Your fingers rake through his hair, scraping at his scalp as you try to hold him closer. Your hands trail down his chest, pausing to unbutton his shirt.
“Y/N,” he breaks away raggedly.
“Wanna see you.” You gasp, capturing his mouth again. Fuck. He makes quick work of his buttons, despite how his hands are shaking. You push it open, hands splayed across his chest, nails pressing in over his pecs as you drive him to delirium. Your hand, surprisingly strong, grips his jaw. You pull him away from your heavenly mouth, twisting his face to the side. You’re panting as hard as he is. “Wanna see you come apart for me.” You whisper, licking along his own dog tag chain and up his neck. You bite at his ear and he can barely control the moan that escapes his throat.
“Gonna… let… me… see?” You ask, kissing and nipping back down his neck. Your tongue drags down his chest before he remembers how to breathe.
“Fuck. Yes.” He hisses as your sinful lips close around his nipple. “Whatever you want.” He gasps.
You drag your teeth over it and, Maker, he's getting rock hard. “Tell me.” You pant, fingers dancing over his trembling abs. “Tell me who you want.” You plead.
“Y/N. It’s only ever been you.” He groans.
You unbutton his trousers, jerking them open and pushing down the front enough to pull out his cock and balls. You moan softly, looking down at him. “Gonna let me see?” You repeat hungrily.
“Want you t-to.” He nods.
With one hand pressed against his chest to keep him where you want him, you drag your tongue up your palm, pushing your fingers into your mouth to get them wet. His cock twitches happily, finally getting what it wants. Y/N. Any way it can.
“Fucking perfect.” You breathe, watching it dance for you. “Stay quiet. Our friends are right inside.” You remind him hazily. His heart hammers and then you wrap your hand around his thick cock, squeezing in the best way as you drag your hand to the tip. He’s weeping precum for you and you rub your thumb around the crown, smearing it for yourself.
One of his hands grips at the wall behind him, while the other covers yours, gripping your bandaged fingers like a lifeline. He pants heavily as you tease the crown before squeezing back down to the base. You’re happy to take your time, explore his shaft to your twisted heart’s content. You start pumping slowly, tormenting him in all the best ways.
He pants your name and you shush him, slowing down. You rub your fingers around the head, finding all the spots that make him buck and thrust into your fist. Your nails drag around his nipples, tormenting him as you take your time slowly stroking his throbbing cock.
The crowd roars in the pub and he’s reminded that you’re doing this to him in public. That you couldn’t wait, had to touch him. Your hand on his chest covers his mouth as his panting gets too loud and he sucks your fingers inside, licking them thoroughly. Fuck, the taste of your skin is delirium inducing. You let out the softest moan as his tongue pushes between your fingers and he bucks into your hand.
You’re breathing as hard as he is, hand still exploring his cock, gripping the base and pulling slowly. Maker, you drive him insane. You reach down and cup his balls, massaging slowly and he groans desperately.
“Poe,” you whisper, eyes searching his. “I don’t wanna fight it anymore.” You start pumping faster, harder. Your palm twists around his shaft, thumb catching the crown just right. “Wanna be yours.” You pant. His mouth falls open as you pull, dragging pleasure through him that he’s never felt before. “Wanna be the reason you come apart.” You moan. Your hand is a blur on his cock and he’s so close. You kneel before him, opening your mouth, the tip of your tongue lapping slowly at the underside of his cock and that pushes him over the edge. He explodes with a quiet grunt, bucking his hips and cumming in your mouth, your warm breath puffing over his heated skin.
“Fuck.” He groans, his legs shaking hard. You look up at him, rolling his cum over your tongue before swallowing it loudly. Your eyes flutter closed as though you’re savoring the taste. You lick the head softly before standing up. He pulls you in for a kiss, tasting himself on your perfect lips. He grips your ass, holding you tight. “We should get out of here.” He whispers.
You nod mutely, your face flushed beautifully. He wonders if you’re wet for him between those perfect thighs. He plans on finding out. A lot.
“Stay here. I’ll meet you in your room.” You whisper. You take a second to adjust your clothes before rounding the corner back into the cantina.
***
You leave Poe in the alley, your heart pounding with the thrill of what you just did. Fuck, you want to do it again. Everywhere. Anywhere. You told him to meet you in his room. Something about it being his bed he fucks you in-it makes you weak.
“Y/N,” someone calls for you before you can escape. You turn to see the new recruit you had been talking to before Poe wrecked your concentration. Your hands ball into fists as you remember the gentle kiss he placed on her hand. The tender way he looked at her, like he was going to kiss her mouth the way he should have been kissing yours. Something spikes inside you. You want to slap that little girl for some irrational reason.
“Yeah? Sorry I disappeared.” You smile, anxious to leave already.
“Have a drink.” He says, holding out a shot glass. His eyes slide down your face to your chest.
Well, if Poe can flirt, so can you.
You step up to the bar, taking the glass from him. “Just one.” You wink at him, licking the salt off his hand slowly as Poe enters the bar again behind you. Your heart skips several important beats in anticipation. You down the burning liquid as the recruit stares at you helplessly. You smack your lips, placing the glass back in his outstretched hand.
“Thanks for the drink, handsome.” You say, giving him a gentle chuck under the chin before heading for the exit.
You practically skip towards the dorms. You can feel Poe behind you, glaring at you. The way he’s following you, the anger rolling off him-it feels like you’re being hunted; and Maker if that doesn’t make you wet.
You stop mid-stride and glance towards the trees that border the path you’re on. If you continue straight, you’d find the quarters for officers. To the left, the forest of dense trees. Most people don’t go that way, the foliage is too tightly intertwined. But you like the quiet of it.
Knowing Poe will follow you, you head for the trees. You breach the line, ducking under branches and climbing over fallen logs. You reach an open patch, moonlight filling the small space when a hand grabs you and guides you back into a tree.
“Care to explain that?” Poe hisses, his other hand gripping your chin.
Fuck, he makes you so fucking weak.
“You flirted. I flirted.” You shrug dangerously. There’s a wicked glint in his beautiful eyes, heavy-lidded, predatory.
“You and I have very different definitions of flirting.” He huffs, his hand twisting to cup your throat, his thumb stroking along your jaw. You’re incredibly aware that all he has to do is squeeze and he can control your breathing.
“Maybe.”
“Maybe.” He repeats. “Maybe you’d rather take him to bed.” He growls.
“If I wanted that little boy, I’d be in there right now. It would be so easy to get him.” You say quietly. Butterflies rocket around your stomach with every word. He’s getting more and more silent as you torment him. “You should have seen the way he was staring at my chest while he offered me a drink.” You hum.
“And you liked that?” Poe demands. Oh, fuck! Your knees nearly give out on you.
“What I like, Commander Dameron, is the way you’ve always directed your words to my face. A man knows how to talk to a woman. A boy talks to her breasts.” You say, reaching up to touch his dark locks. They look so soft in the pale moonlight.
He grabs your hand and pins it to the tree above your head. “You licked his hand.”
“And probably made him cum in his pants.” You smirk. “Want me to lick your hand to make up for it, Commander? Or did you have another body part in mind?” You taunt.
Fuck, you’re talking big, feeling much braver in the dark.
“Why come out here?” He asks, his thumb still stroking your jaw.
“I wanted you outside. We aren’t that far off the path. Anyone can catch us out here. I want you to make me cum against this tree.” You murmur, lifting your chin and exposing your throat for him.
“Fuck.” He moans, kissing you hungrily. His lips are fucking perfect, soft and pliant as they meld with yours once more. His five o’clock shadow scrapes against your soft skin and, Maker, you want to feel that burn between your thighs. His tongue pushes into your mouth, licking and exploring you. You whimper with need, his strong hands keeping you exactly where he wants you.
His thick thigh pushes between yours, pressing right up against your cunt. You grind on it helplessly, so fucking turned on by this man. His hand drops from your throat to the button of your short shorts. You wore these especially for him, to taunt him with as much flesh as you could. Now you would pay for it.
He makes quick work of the buttons, quicker one handed than you would be with both. He bites at your lower lip and you moan, lifting your free hand to touch his face. He grabs it and secures it over your head with the other.
“Naughty girls don’t get to touch things.” He mutters. “Especially things that don’t belong to them.”
You lean forward, licking at his lips. “Don’t you belong to me, though?” You whisper. “Just as I belong to you.”
His eyes blaze with a new kind of fire as he kisses you. It steals your breath away and you melt into him. His free hand slides up your tank top, pushing it up over your bra. It’s all lace and see through, just for him. Silver against your dark skin in the pale light and he groans. He rubs his thumb over your hardening nipple and you lift your chest into his hand.
“So fuckin’ pretty.” He whispers.
“Touch me. Please? I need to feel your hands on me.” You whisper.
He cups your breast, holding it in his palm as his thumb brushes back and forth over your nipple. He hooks his finger over the lace and guides it down under your breast. He lowers his head and licks it slowly.
Fuuuuuck. You press your legs together to keep from cumming just from watching him do that. You’ve fought wanting him for so long, knowing he’s exactly your type, knowing your type isn’t good for you-and yet, here you are. He licks again and again, the point of his tongue flicking over your hardened bud. You moan, savoring the feel of his wet mouth on your sensitive skin. He stays there, exploring your body, and your restraint, for what feels like forever.
Bra pulled down, shirt pushed up, shorts pushed to your knees, he has you mewling. You’re a fucking mess for him and all he’s done is suck on your nipples.
“Didn’t wear any panties tonight? Just to torture me, huh?” He mutters.
“Couldn’t stand the thought.” You manage.
Voices can be heard on the path, leaving the cantina. He spins you around, pressing your hands against the tree. “Ready for the show?” He asks, pulling your hips back to him so you’re leaning forward quite a bit. “Your hands stay here. You move them, I stop.” He warns and you nod, your whole body already trembling. “Spread your legs, gorgeous.” He says, guiding your feet apart as wide as they’ll go.
He wraps one arm around your waist, sliding them between your thighs. The cool night air feels amazing on your heated, wet flesh. His crotch is pressed tight against your bare ass and you can feel his cock, ready for round two. His other arm wraps around your chest, cupping your tit and rolling your nipple between his fingers.
Your folds are slick as he slides his digits in, finding your clit easily. You buck as he makes contact and he chuckles.
“So sensitive.” He teases, swirling his finger around it slowly.
Oh, Maker.
He slides his fingers back further, finding your dripping slit. “You’re so wet for me.” He praises, dragging his fingers back up to your clit.
“Always.” You moan. “Always you.”
His cock twitches against your ass and you’re desperate for him. You can hear the people getting closer as he picks up the pace on stroking your clit. He easily finds the places that make you cry out and squirm. He rubs slow, determined circles over your clit, driving you crazy, listening to you pant under him.
“P-Poe, pull h-harder on my nipple. P-please?” You whimper and he obliges. You gasp as pleasure spikes right to your core, you buck in his hand. He twists and pulls on it as his fingers slide down to your slit once more, pushing in deep. You moan loudly at the stretch of them, walls fluttering rapidly.
“Oh fuck.” You gasp, dropping your head. The heel of his hand grinds up on your clit as his fingers work inside you, finding all the right places to turn you into a dripping, quivering mess for him.
The voices get louder, closer-there are more of them. Your friends, just on the other side of those trees while their commander has his fingers in your cunt. The coil in your belly tightens into a blinding light as Poe leans forward, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.
“Such a good girl.” He praises and the coil snaps. Your legs give out as you cum, hips bucking and grinding on his hand. His strong arms support you as you cling to the tree, vision dimming as your eyes roll back into your head. You gasp raggedly, feeling Poe clutch you to his chest as he guides you through it, floating you back down gently.
The voices pass, none the wiser of what was going on. Poe pulls his fingers out of your still trembling pussy and sucks them clean. “Fuck, you taste so good.” He moans.
When you don’t move after a moment, Poe shifts you back against him to better see your face. “You okay, sweetheart?” He asks with a chuckle.
Your eyes are closed still as you try to recover from such an intense orgasm. Maybe it’s because it’s been so long since another person has made you cum, or maybe it’s because it was Poe, or the situation of possibly getting caught, but you’re so blissed out right now.
“So good.” You mumble, reaching up for his face. You want to kiss him again. You haven’t been able to stop thinking about his lips on yours since the hangar.
He sits on the ground, shifting you to take off your shorts completely so you can straddle his lap.
“I like this.” You whisper, leaning forward to capture his mouth. He surges forward to meet you, fingers tangling in your hair before sliding down your back. His lips are impossibilities, hungry and urgent and yet so soft and gentle at the same time. His tongue swipes across your lower lip and of course, you open for him. You moan in your throat as he rocks his hips up into you. His fingertips dig into your hips as you grind them slowly, soaking the front of his trousers.
“We should get...back to my room.” He mumbles, kissing down your jaw and nipping at the apex.
“Or you could fuck me right here.” You suggest breathlessly.
He chuckles, pulling back. “As much as I love seeing you in the moonlight, I have more I want to do to you that requires a bed.”
You pout and he grins. “Alright.” Shakily, you stand up and reach for your shorts but he pulls them out of your reach. “Poe, I can’t walk through the compound naked. Everyone will see me.” You say nervously. Does he want that? Fuck, your knees are so damn weak.
He stands up and guides your tank top off over your head. He slides the other side of your bra down under your breast, so you’re exposed on both sides. “Can’t have that.” He murmurs, unbuttoning his shirt and taking it off. “You’ll walk through in my shirt.” He says, sliding it up over your arms. It only just barely covers your ass. He buttons it up slowly, testing your strength until he reaches the base of your breasts and stops.
“Okay, let’s go.” He smirks.
Fuck.
He leads you out through the trees and back onto the path back to the dorms. He pulls you next to him, his arm around your waist as you walk. It’s possessive, while at the same time soft, like he can’t get you close enough. His hand cups your ass as you walk, just to remind you how very naked he has you.
He leans in close, nipping at your earlobe. “Maker, I’m so fucking hard seeing you like this. In just my shirt. I can’t wait to take you apart with everything I have, my mouth, my fingers, my cock.” He moans, squeezing your ass.
“Poe,” you moan and he chuckles, guiding you through his door. You reach for his shirt as he locks the door but he stops you.
“Leave it on. Wanna fuck you in it.” He says, sounding wild and out of control.
“Lights?” You ask, fuck why are you so timid all of a sudden?
“They stay on. I wanna see every second of this.” He pulls you close, kissing you hard as he guides you back to the bed. He lays you down, finally removing his pants and you lick your lips hungrily at the sight of his hard cock. You wanna taste it properly this time, wanna feel it sliding down your throat as you suck and listen to him moan because of you.
You reach for it, eyes trained on your prize and he grabs your hands. “Poe, please? Wanna feel you in my mouth.” You look up at him and he groans.
“I have my own plans that involve you being in my mouth.” He says.
“Solution. You lay down, me on top. We both get what we want and then you can do anything at all to me.” You promise. “Anything.”
“Fuck. Okay.” He shifts you, laying down flat on his bed. You kick off your boots and let him guide you over his face. “Maker, you’re fucking gorgeous. And wet all for me.” He guides your hips down to his mouth and his tongue swipes slowly over your clit. So soft, slow, sensual, your eyes roll back in your head.
Your hand wraps around his thick cock, and you lick slowly at the tip, hoping you have the same effect on him that he’s having on you. Your mouth opens wide, sliding over the head and taking him into your mouth. You massage your tongue along the thick shaft, hungry for all of him. He moans loudly against your clit and it feels so fucking good. You suck hard, bobbing your head as far down as it can go, feeling him slide down your throat.
“Shit, Y/N-“ he chokes, hips bucking slightly. You bob your head slow, stroking him with your tongue, letting him feel every contour as you taste him.
He’s breathless as he sucks on your clit, making you moan around him. His tongue teases at it, making you quiver, your thighs tremble. His hips buck in time with your head and you reach down, grasping his heavy balls and giving them a gentle squeeze.
“Fu-fuck!” He gasps, pulling off you. “Y/N!”
You pull off him and turn around, making your head level with his. “I can’t wait anymore, Poe. I want you inside me.” You whisper, straddling his hips. You grasp his thick cock, rubbing the tip teasingly over your cunt.
He holds your gaze as you slide down, sinking onto his shaft. Your mouth falls open slightly as he stretches you, and you have to stop halfway to catch your breath. He reaches down, his thumb pressing against your clit and he rubs slowly, teasing you towards an orgasm.
“That’s it, relax.” He says softly, his voice thick and husky. You moan, your walls fluttering around him. “That’s good. Cum for me. Let me in.” He praises. He presses just right and you clamp down on him, cumming and sinking down further. He moans, continuing to rub your clit until you’re all the way to his base. “Fuck, Y/N.” He moans as your walls roll and flex along him. “You feel so good, like heaven, baby.” He says and you lean forward, changing the angle and dragging along his shaft.
“I know how we’re spending M-Mondays from now on.” You breathe.
He guides you down to his chest, wrapping his arms around you tightly. He kisses you hard as he ruts his cock up into you. You whine as you arch your back, taking him deeper. He thrusts hard and deep, feeling your walls cling to him. He grips your hips as he fucks you on top of him, driven crazy by the desperate hold you have on him.
You pant in his ear, biting his earlobe and sucking on his neck. “Fuck, Poe. You’re so big inside me.” You moan softly, breathlessly. “Better than I ever dreamed.” You praise. “Oh fuck! Poe, gonna make me cum.” You whine. He doesn’t slow down, but he does shift your hips. Now he’s hitting deeper, grinding his perfect fucking cockhead right against your g-spot.
You gasp, burying your face in his neck as you buck your hips, that fire in your belly spreading. Your moans have turned into high pitched whines, short, desperate, pleading.
“Never gonna stop fucking you, baby.” He promises and you fall over the edge with a ragged gasp, grinding your hips down hard. Your walls clamp down on his thrusting cock, stroking along his shaft, holding him tight.
“Stars, P-Poe.” You moan, and he rolls you over.
“What did you think about earlier? Making yourself cum to get rid of your migraine? What naughty thoughts filled your head?” He asks, pushing in slowly.
“You.” You pant. “It’s always you. Fucking me anywhere you can get your hands on me. In the hangar, the cantina, your ship, my ship, Leia’s office. I can’t get enough of thinking about you taking me, filling me, claiming me.”
He pulls out nearly all the way, watching as your pretty pussy sucks him back in. “Fuck. Can’t wait to fuck you on every surface I can find.” He moans.
You surge up and kiss him, urging him to fuck you faster. But he doesn’t. He takes his damn time, stroking in and out of you.
“I’ve waited so long for you to want me.” He moans, laying down on top of you. Most of his weight is supported by his elbows and knees, but you can still feel every inch. You wrap your legs around his hips and that lifts you into him. He moves closer, tucking his thighs under yours, keeping you lifted for him. He doesn’t have far to move, gentle rocking and he’s buried inside you. You cling to his biceps, panting for him as he fucks you slowly.
He captures your mouth with his, rocking his hips slowly. Your walls flutter and squeeze around him with every slow thrust, your mind slowly dribbling away as he fucks it out if you. His tongue dances in your mouth, tasting you, exploring you, claiming it as his own.
He’s won, he knows it, now he’s taking all the time he wants to revel in his sweet victory.
He strokes just right on your clit, filling you to the brim and all you can do is cling to him. Your orgasm crashes on you out of nowhere, rising up and drowning you in bliss. You arch up into him with a cry, clamping down around him and keeping him in place.
“Good girl. Oh, good fucking girl. That’s it, baby.” He praises, licking along your neck. Your whole body is sensitive, every nerve inside you attuned to pleasure under his touch.
You tremble under him as he starts to move again. You’ve never felt so small, so in someone else’s control. But if it was going to be anyone’s control, it should be his. His hips rock a little harder, bottoming out with a bump each time and you don’t know how much longer you can hold on.
“P-Poe.” You beg, holding onto his shoulders.
His tongue drags up your jaw and over your lips. “Baby, you’re taking my cock so good.” He moans.
“I need you to fill me, I know you have to cum.” You whimper.
“I’m not ready yet, sweetheart. You made me wait for so long. Filled my head with your teasing and your body.” He grunts, cock pulsing inside you. “I wanna take my time, making you feel every inch.” He whispers.
“Fuck, P-Poe. Can you fuck me faster?” You plead.
“Slow and steady, baby. Gonna fill you all night. You’re never gonna stop cumming on my cock.” He promises.
He shifts your hips higher so that his cock rubs against your g-spot and you’re seeing stars. Your mouth falls open as he strokes and strokes and strokes, your breathing gets caught in your chest and you cum around him, a trembling mess as you clamp down on his cock. You roll and buck your hips as best you can, trying to get him to cum.
He grunts, kissing you deeply. “Keep going, love feeling you move under me. So desperate for me.” He pants.
“What if I promise you can fuck me every day? Before breakfast, after dinner, before a mission, whenever you want?” You try, your cunt squeezing him in anticipation. The thought of him being inside you every day is blanking the rest of your brain.
“You really want that?” He asks, looking down at you.
“I want you. Every day, at least twice. Five on Mondays.”
He rocks into you a little faster now. “Seven.” He bargains and you chuckle.
“As many times as you want. Just cum now. Fuck me hard. Wake me up by eating me out and we can go again in the morning.” You moan, spreading your legs wider for him.
“Fuck, pretty girl.” He pulls out and you groan. “Roll over.” He pushes you onto your stomach and lifts your hips in the air. “So fuckin pretty.” He grunts, pushing in fast and hard.
Fuuuuuck.
You bury your face in the sheets, hands balling into fists as he sets up a blistering pace. He holds your hips exactly where he needs them, pounding into you fast, hard, and deep. You keep up a constant pressure on his cock, squeezing for all you’re worth. He reaches around, leaning over you as he fingers your clit blindingly fast.
“Cum for me, baby. One last time. Cum on my cock as I fill you.” He grunts.
He slams in and your whole body dissolves into atoms, pure, unadulterated bliss as the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had crashes down over you. The only thing keeping you grounded is Poe. He hilts himself to the root inside you, tipping over the edge himself, filling you with his cum.
“Pretty girl.” He moans, collapsing next to you. You twist into his side, still high in the clouds. He pulls you tight and kisses you all over your face. “Did I hurt you?” He asks.
You don���t have any energy left for words so you shake your head, lacing your fingers through his. He kisses your fingers, holding them against his lips. “Sorry I made you wait.” You rasp out and he laughs quietly.
“I’m not. The flirting was fun. This was better.”
You smile to yourself, tossing your leg over his. “Yeah.”
He mumbles something else, but you’re already drifting off to sleep, happy in his arms.
Everything Tag List
@everythingisoverrated @psyched2b @shreddedparchment @bitsandbobsandstuff @after-avenging-hours @alexblrus @thinkingsofamadwoman @i-dont-want-to-be-called @thefridgeismybestie @fortheloveofallthatsholy @crazychaotic @pleasureoftheguiltiestvariety @redstarstan @justreadingfics @themistsofmyavalon @sebastianstanslefteyebrow @wkemeup @thiccbinch @glide-thru @elliee1497 @ellaenchanted91 @part-time-patronus @janeyboo @scarlettwitcher @thirstybitchqueen @stuckonjbbarnes @barnesandco @geeksareunique @nicoleplacee @lexshead @gambitsqueen @lokisironthrone @imanuglywombat @also-fangirlinsweden @ravenesque @murdermornings @countryrockmama @starbuckie @kato-ptris @mandos-crest @katzenwahnsinn
Star Wars Tag List
@bookishofalder @doctor-warthrop @acrossthesestars @waterpancakeao3 @generousrunawaydonut @eclipsedplanet @general-latino @marvelobsessiononastick @itsdameron @mads-weasley @rawrrimamonsterr @diaryofkali @mrsdaamneron @sabxism @fanfictionismydeath @rainlumos @jaxrando @fallinallinmendes @ninjarose23
#star wars#romance#mermaidxatxheart-writes#reader insert#mermaidxatxheart#fanfic#poe dameron#poe dameron x reader#star wars fanfiction#star wars fic#star wars smut#star wars x reader#poe x reader#poe dameron fluff#poe x you#poe dameron fic
464 notes
·
View notes
Text
in honor of cmq posting rwrb characters as taylor swift sings i thought i should share a guide that i made for my swiftie sister to get her to read rwrb
rwrb taylor’s version:
whole book:
- perfect by 1d (not taylor but it counts and is literally the book)
- literally the entire song is applicable, the only non applicable part is the fact that the song is about a girl
first prince:
- paris
- “Confess my truth in swooping, sloping, cursive letters”
- “We drew a map on your bedroom ceiling, No, I didn't see the news, 'Cause we were somewhere else In an alleyway, drinking champagne”
- delicate
- “Is it cool that I said all that? Is it too soon to do this yet? ’Cause I know that it’s delicate”
- invisible string
- “And isn’t it just so pretty to think, all along there was some Invisible string tying you to me?”
henry:
- sweet nothing
- “And the voices that implore, “You should be doing more” To you, I can admit that I’m just too soft for all of it”
- you’re on your own kid
- “I search the party of better bodies, Just to learn that you never cared”
- this is me trying
- “They told me all of my cages were mental, So I got wasted like all my potential”
- the lakes
- “Take me to the Lakes where all the poets went to die, I don't belong and, my beloved, neither do you”
henry at alex:
- enchanted
- “All I can say is it was enchanting to meet you”
alex:
- this is me trying
- “I was so ahead of the curve, the curve became a sphere“
- you’re on your own kid
- “I gave my blood, sweat, and tears for this”
- “So, make the friendship bracelets, take the moment and taste it, You’ve got no reason to be afraid”
- miss americana and the heartbreak prince
- “It's you and me, there's nothing like this, Miss Americana and The Heartbreak Prince (Okay), We're so sad, we paint the town blue”
- shake it off
- “That’s what people say”
alex at henry:
- london boy
- “You know I love a London boy, I enjoy walkin' Soho, drinkin' in the afternoon (Yeah), He likes my American smile, like a child when our eyes meet, Darling, I fancy you (You)”
- gorgeous
- “You’re so cool, it makes me hate you so much (I hate you so much)”
- “You're so gorgeous I can't say anything to your face 'Cause look at your face (Gorgeous) And I'm so furious At you for making me feel this way”
- paper rings
- “I like shiny things, but I’d marry you with paper rings”
- call it what you want
- “I want to drive away with you. I want your complications too. I want your dreary Mondays. Wrap your arms around me, baby boy”
- i can see you
- “But what would you do if I went to touch you now? What would you do if they never found us out?”
- “And we kept everything professional. But something's changed, it's somethin' I, I like”
- “I can see you in your suit and your necktie. Passed me a note sayin’, "Meet me tonight" “
june:
- welcome to new york
- “The lights are so bright but they never blind me, me. Welcome to New York, it's been waiting for you”
- style
- “And I got that red lip classic thing that you like”
- “And I got that good girl faith and a tight little skirt”
- lavender haze
- “I'm damned if I do give a damn what people say. No deal. The 1950s shit they want from me”
- new romantics
- “We are too busy dancing to get knocked off our feet. Baby, we're the new romantics. The best people in life are free”
nora:
- the man
- “I'm so sick of running as fast as I can, Wonderin' if I'd get there quicker if I was a man. And I’m so sick of them comin' at me again, 'Cause if I was a man, then I'd be the man”
- you need to calm down
- “You just need to take several seats and then try to restore the peace and control your urges to scream about all the people you hate”
- karma
- “Karma's a relaxing thought, Aren't you envious that for you it's not?”
- shake it off
- “But I keep cruisin’, Can't stop, won't stop movin', It's like I got this music in my mind, sayin', "It's gonna be alright"”
#rwrb#cmq#red white and royal blue#alex claremont diaz#prince henry of wales#firstprince#taylor swift
30 notes
·
View notes
Text
Y'all an angst #moshang thought for this day of our lord, Sunday:
So, we all know that MBJ is Airplane's ideal man, right? He put every little trope he loved into him, carefully planned out every inch of his appearance, his likes, his dislikes, his quirks, his wants, his dreams No one in both worlds could know and love MBJ more than Airplane does.
So why wouldn't he have written a self insert that could stay with him?
I mean, yeah, Binghe is his power fantasy for sure. A way to get back at the world and be cool and awesome and loved!
But...
As he's planning out MBJ, wouldn't thoughts linger on having your ideal man love the real you?
So, Airplane created SQH, the truly faithful avatar of himself and placed him in PIDW
The same mild and upsetting backstory. The parents that didn't want him. The tragedy of working hard and being overlooked, yearning desperately for recognition, for care, for family and love...
And the resentment. The anger. The hate. The greedy voracious desire to survive. The need for revenge.
He keeps writing and writing this character until it all becomes too real, too fast.
Airplane rereads what he wrote and he hates SQH.
He hates this backstabbing rat if a man.
This weak excuse of a person.
He hates to see himself reflected so perfectly on the page, the neat summary of all his faults.
This horrible little cretin... Doesn't deserve his ideal man. Not his favorite. Not his MBJ
So, Airplane kills him.
Because that's what people like them deserve.
He makes sure MBJ is thorough.
People like them are like weeds. You had to rip everything out, by the root, until there was nothing left to cling to or else....
He looked around his hole of an apartment
Scum always found a way to stay alive.
That's why it's so easy to integrate into SQH'S life when he transmigrates.
The time period and the world are alien, but the life is still the same.
Unwanted.
Unloved.
Uncared for.
At least they gave him the benefit of an adult mind
SQH couldn't fathom reliving the hurt of trying to get a parents approval and failing again and again and again another life time around.
No.
This time his walls are there to protect his heart.
This time... This time... This time he will suffer but it'll be ok.
He's used to it by now.
Of course, he doesn't do things as SQH did. Being the author and almost thirty when he got to CQM had its perks.
He doesn't linger in disappointment when his parents don't care where he goes. He doesn't dwell on dismissals from his teachers. He's tough against bullying.
He knows how to survive all of these things.
What he doesn't know, however, is how to survive MBJ.
The first he sees the man of his dreams, something breaks inside SQH'S heart.
God.
He's so perfect.
So beautiful and strong and just the right amount of menacing. He's tall and fierce and even wounded, there's pride in every gesture, in every step.
It's love at first sight
It's a love that endured meeting the demon that would become his ideal man.
A love that endured falling out of love with that spoiled, violent, demanding little cretin.
A love that endured and became stronger as they became adults together, matured together.
A love everlasting.
But also a love unrequited.
Because Airplane wrote it this way.
How could someone made absolutely perfect like MBJ could ever love scum like Airplane?
So he doesn't say anything.
He turns a blind eye to what could be considered expressions of love for demons and keeps his head down.
He keeps his walls up. He builds himself a tower and shoves his foolish heart inside and throws away the key
Because he knows scum like him have to die.
It is the law of the world. He wrote it so.
But he desperately wants to live. He's finally, *finally*, getting a hang of living. Of why people like it.
He's got a bit of an odd family in the form of his kids in his peak
A job that's finally being recognized as important.
And the man of his dreams. Right there. Where Airplane can see him, touch him, make awful, snide observations and gossip with.
Be in his presence.
If MBJ were to find out the depths of his love...
He would be disgusted.
To be loved by one so low, so weak, so plain, so petty and lazy and greedy and bad. He was so... Bad.
His king would kill him.
Or worst.
Reject him.
And SQH wasn't strong enough for that.
So locked away those feelings would go.
Because scum deserved to die. But if you left them even a little bit of hope, they would dig their heels into the ground and cling to life.
SQH was scum. He'd been scum for two lifetimes now. And one day, his king was going to kill him.
So maybe if can pretend to be good for just a little while...
Maybe he can deserve some time with the love of his life. Just for a while longer.
36 notes
·
View notes
Text
The thing is, Robin knows she falls hard. And she knows she falls fast, too.
But that doesn’t mean that the feelings aren’t all real. Aren’t just as overwhelming and powerful and earnest as they seem in the moment, even though she can usually look back at them later and see just how silly they were.
A pretty smile, a casual arm touch in the halls — that sort of thing is enough to sustain her for weeks if she really lets herself keep going.
Well, and if Steve lets her keep going. She’s fairly certain even the slightest nudge from him would send her spiraling out in the opposite direction. After all, he’d managed to kill any lingering feelings she had for Tammy Thompson in the space of a single Kermit impression. Just a few words and whatever remained of her crush had died fast.
She’s not exactly sure he appreciates the power of that, the influence he wields. Outside of the Starcourt bathroom, he’s pretty much never exercised it. In fact, since then, he’s been shockingly encouraging about all of her romantic notions. He seems to think her only problem is a lack of confidence — and now that he’s figured out how to get out of his own way, he’s dead set on getting Robin out of hers, too.
That’s what all of the back and forth had been about in the car. He’s always trying to convince her to just do something, anything, poking holes in all of her arguments about why she can’t.
He keeps saying all she needs to do is just go for it. He’s convinced that’s all it’ll take, unwaveringly so, and his blind faith in her would be sort of sweet if it weren’t so annoying. Worse, the way he lays everything out really does make it sound unbelievably uncomplicated. Even when she reminds him of all the challenges she has to overcome in her love life that he doesn’t (gay, loser, virgin, awkward, triple water sign), he still keeps walking her through it in simple terms: Chrissy held her hand. Chrissy asked to be her friend. Chrissy invited her to study together at the library, just the two of them.
When he puts it like that, it almost sounds like it could be a real thing. A real possibility. Robin and Chrissy.
all the best people see you (all the best people know), chapter 5, a pre-season 4 buckingham au
#buckingham#robin buckley#chrissy cunningham#robin x chrissy#chrissy x robin#stranger things#stranger things fic#st fic#inadvertent desert hearts movie date au#my writing#my graphics
11 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
graphicdols-blog
holy trinity stuff
amarcus
amarcus88LG
nevztv-blog
🦄 Невзоркина радость
b1dl0
my artblog:3
kenndeylyela94
Tmj 6x6 Exercises