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#it sounds very appealing at this point in my life

aletterinthenameofsanity · 2 months

Text

Y'know, there's this gripe I've had for years that really frustrates me, and it has to do with Love, Simon and people joking about it and calling it too-pg and designed-for-straight-people and all the like. (A similar thing has happened to Heartstopper, but that's another conversation.)

I saw Love, Simon in theaters when it came out my senior year in high school. I saw it three times, once with my friends/parents on opening night, once with my brother over spring break, and once with my grandparents.

On opening night, the air in the room was electric. It was palpable. Half the heads in there were dyed various colors. Queer kids were holding hands. We were all crying and laughing and cheering as a group. My friends grabbed my hands at the part where Simon was outed and didn't let go until his parents were saying that they accepted him. My friend came out to me as non-binary. Another person in our group admitted that she had feelings for girls. It was incredible. I left shaking. This was the first mainstream queer romance movie that had ever been produced by one of the main five studios, and I know that sounds like another "first queer character from Disney" bit but you have to understand that even in 2018 this was groundbreaking. Getting to have a sweet queer rom-com where the main character was told that he got "to breathe now" after coming out meant so much to me and my friends.

But also, from a designed-for-straight-people POV (which, to be frank, it was written by a bisexual author and directed by a gay man, this was not designed for straight audiences), why is it a bad thing that it appealed to the widest possible audience? That it could make my parents and grandparents see things in a new light? My stepdad wasn't at all interested in rom-coms but he saw it with me because it was something I cared about and he hugged me when we came out of the theater. My very Catholic grandparents watched it with me and though my grandpa said he still didn't quite understand the whole 'gay thing,' all he wanted was for me to be happy and to have a happy ending like Simon did. My Nana actually cried when Simon came out and squeeze my hand when his mother told him he could breathe.

And when Martin blackmailed Simon, my mom, badass ally that she is, literally hissed "Dropkick him. Dropkick him in the balls" leading to multiple queer kids in the audience to laugh or smile. Having my parents there- the only parents, by the way, out of my group of queer and questioning friends- made multiple people realize that supportive adults were out there. That parents like those in Love, Simon do exist in real life.

When people complain about Heartstopper not being realistic or Love, Simon being too cutesy, I remember seeing Love, Simon on opening night. I remember my friend coming out and my stepdad hugging me and my mom defending us through this character. I remember the cheers that went through the audience when Bram and Simon kissed and the chatter in the foyer after the movie was over and the way that this movie made me understand that happy endings do exist.

Queer kids need happy endings. Straight people need entry points to becoming allies. Both of these things can come together in beautiful ways. They can find out about more queer culture later, but for now, let them have this. Let them all have a glimpse at a better, happier world. Let them have queer joy.

#love simon #simon vs thsa #simon spier #spierfeld #bram greenfeld #my experiences #meta #the importance of queer joy #heartstopper #becky albertalli #my mom also watched rwrb with me last year when it premiered #and let me tell you that was interesting sitting in the room with her for an r-rated romance movie like that

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ernmark · 2 years

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I spotted a reply to one of my posts:

And my knee-jerk response was "no, you should hear my friends talk about their lives--"

And it made me remember something.

Back in high school, my IB class did a lock-in-- where the group of students gets locked into one part of the school overnight on a weekend-- and after junk food and video games lost their appeal, we got to talking.

Only I didn't really know anything about almost any of them. They were all friendly enough, but I kept to myself for the most part, so we didn't have much to talk about once standard small talk ran out.

So I asked one of the other people sitting with me: "what's your story?"

Your life story.

And he told me. Sixteen years or so condensed into maybe a half hour. And it was the most fascinating life I could have imagined: the places he'd been, the things he'd done, the experiences that defined him. It boggled my mind.

When he finished and turned the question around to me, I thought mine sounded really boring in comparison, but he listened open-mouthed to the entire thing. Other kids were gathering around us by now, listening in. And when I finished mine, I turned to another one of them and asked the question to them.

And just like before, my mind was blown. A completely different life, completely different focal points, defining experiences, goals the likes of which were deserving of an anime. And the same happened with the next person we asked, and the next.

By the time each one of us had finished telling their story, it was time to go home for the morning. The video games had been abandoned hours ago. None of us had slept. We were too caught up in each other's lives.

All of which is to say:

Thank you. I do lead a very interesting life.

So do you.

#storytelling

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faetreides · 27 days

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summary: feyd rautha x emperor’s afab oldest child!reader

cw: feet stuff, piss kink, implied eventual knifeplay/blood play, cannabalism, arranged marriage, feyd being so weird but reader lowkey loves it, facesitting but the kind where feyd would beg you to break his neck, spanking/mild painplay, very likely ooc feyd since i haven’t seen part 2 yet, use of “princes” and “wife”, wedding hunt and black cum hcs taken from @valeskafics , reader doesn’t really know what’s going on but they’re vibing

wc: 1.4k

block & move on if uncomfortable !!

do not repost, translate, or give ai my work

kinktober masterlist

Collapsing in relief has never been more appealing. You finally have a moment of respite after vigorous and exhausting wedding festivities, and you need to collect yourself. This marriage to the Na-Baron Feyd Rautha Harkonnen was only brought to your attention a week before it would take place.

Surprisingly, you didn’t really mind the man himself. It was just so sudden, is all. During any visits with his family, you had to be mindful of how you reacted to his cocky displays of ruthlessness and violence. Your father would have your head if he saw how tight you squeezed your thighs together or how much you panicked at the thought of leaving a puddle on your throne. Feyd always marked his departure with a cliche kiss to the back of your hand and a hissed promise that you couldn’t make out.

He would protect you at the very least if he didn’t love you. You’re not even sure that you love him, but this shameful crush could grow into something untamable if you lose your footing. Something… unbecoming of a member of the royal family. You wonder if it already has.

The wedding was as grand as could be, glittering decorations and finery followed by archaic rituals to please your in-laws. The Wedding Hunt in particular sent your heartbeat into overdrive, but the satisfaction on your betrothed’s face when he caught his “prize” was intoxicating. Feyd Rautha kisses like he kills, you were quick to discover, fiercely and uncaring of any blood that might be shed.

You’re brought out of your reminiscing by your now husband closing the door to your room behind him. You only have another day with your family before you’re to leave for Giedi Prime. There has hardly been time to get to know the man you will lie beside for the rest of your life, until now.

“Wife.” He bluntly greets you, awkwardly nodding his head in an effort to maintain his “tough” image. You won’t tease him about the barest hint of blush on his cheekbones, but you treasure it nonetheless.

You humor him, “Husband.” Your nod mirrors his and you take a seat at the long table in the middle of the room after Feyd pulls a chair out for you.

This was the next part of the ritual, where the newly married couple must eat a meal that one partner made for the other. It sounds simple enough that you don’t think anything of it.

Feyd makes a gesture and your food is placed before you by one of your family’s servants. They look a bit queasy and green in the face but they’re gone before you can ask if they’re alright.

“I hope you like it, princess.” Feyd says with a barely there smirk, pointing to the… pie in front of you. “I cut down many people for it.”

You raise an eyebrow at that but bring your knife to take a slice of the pie anyway. Upon lifting the piece onto your plate, you notice eyeballs, flesh, tongues, and some sort of black liquid running throughout the filling. You freeze in place, not even meeting your husband’s eyes. One blue eye seems to twitch and the black substance makes a sick sound as you move it around with your fork.

“The other men who your father considered, my concubines….. I actually can’t tell you which of them are in that slice, but they are all there.” He whispers in your ear, having gotten up from his position opposite you to feed you himself.

You respect the ritual despite your urge to throw up, so you swallow what he gives you. He grins, swiping a thumb down to your throat to feel the food travel. He squeezes your cheeks when you’re done, and you open your mouth to show him that you ate it all.

“That’s my princess.” He condescendingly croons, bending down to run his tongue all over your face before standing up and pushing you to lie flat on the cold table. “But I'm afraid that it’s time for me to have my meal.”

Your elaborate wedding gown is slashed to shreds, the cool tip of his blade moving down your flesh until it reaches your lace covered mound. He taps the hilt of his weapon on your hood and unceremoniously tosses it on the floor.

You didn’t expect the reveal of your wedding night attire to be under such unorthodox circumstances, but can you say you expected any of this?

“A worthy bride with a body to match, thank you for this gift, your highness”. He says in a half joking manner, grinning with too many teeth as he runs his hands along the delicate material. He toys with the idea of cutting this little number to pieces too, but your holes are left conveniently exposed. Maybe he’s fallen too in love with it, he’s been in love with you since you met years ago anyway.

The lingerie is a custom designed piece littered with straps and sheer fabric that leave nothing to the imagination. Your tits are accentuated by a seashell-like pattern bra and there’s even a little black bow above your pussy. The frilly strips of material wrapped around your thighs do nothing to keep your curves contained and the tiny tulle skirt frames your ass beautifully.

Your husband drinks in the sight of you before pulling your ankles to rest on his shoulders. You watch in arousal and shock as he broadly licks the sole of your right foot. He groans unabashedly, nuzzling at your heel and then dipping his tongue in the spaces between your toes. You wiggle at the ticklish feeling but you don’t kick him away.

He really gets into it when he starts sucking your toes, bobbing his head and making sure you’re watching as curls his tongue around each one. His eyes roll back in pleasure once he reaches the last toe on your other foot, and drool trickles down your leg when he’s done getting acquainted with the taste of it. He presses a kiss to the top of each toe but then the weird softness is ruined by the bite he adorns your ankle with.

Feyd’s mouth makes a slick popping sound as he pulls away from your feet. You’re at a loss for words when he proceeds to lie down on the table beside you. He gropes your breast quickly and leans over to give you a surprisingly chaste peck. The look on his face is a smug one but his eyes say something unknown to you, soft and obsessive all at once. It’s as if he knows something you don’t.

“Now sit on my face, claim your new throne, princess.”

You don’t know how long he keeps you hostage there, your cunt soaking him as he devours you to the bone. He doesn’t let you become too relaxed, nipping your clit as he sees fit and clawing the skin of your ass. Eventually your gut aches and though at first you think you’re about to cum already, the second heartbeat in your clit feels different. You come to a horrifying realization that you need to relieve yourself.

“H-husband, what the fuck- I… I need to pee.” You’d rather be dead than doing what you are and saying what you are, but nature calls.

“Yes, that’s it.” He growls and digs his nails into your ass, jigging the globes in his hands before sharply slapping them. “Piss all over my face, get me wet with it like a good wife.”

The shriek you let out when you do just that is abhorrent. Your legs shake as you spray hot pee on your husband’s skin, the gold mixing with the white of your simultaneous orgasm as it drips down his body. You try to move off of Feyd but he tightens his grip on your ass and yanks you back down. The sensation of a hungry mouth desperately sucking the fluids from you drives you wild.

“You have…… fuck- y-you have to stop, hah- i’m going to break.” You sob.

He chuckles into your piss covered pussy and then pulls away to speak, “Then break, a wife of House Harkonnen doesn’t need to be put together.”

You think you hear him say something about using his blade on your body later, but that might just be your own perverted idea.

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maxwell-grant · 5 months

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So is Worm good from what you have read

"Yes" doesn't begin to cover it but yes. Worm is a brain-rewiring mobius strip disguised as a bible disguised as a superhero web serial that either cured your cancer or shot your dog or both depending on who you ask, and it has many extremely dedicated, brilliant scholar priest surgeons publicly dissecting it on this platform on the regular to the point I don't think I have much to add to the conversations surrounding it, even if I do have some The Thoughts about it. I had never even really seriously thought about superhero prose before and Worm isn't a thing I go back and reread frequently but it did a complete and total 180 on the way I think about superheroes and even fiction, and I've never stopped thinking about it since I've read it.

It is a monumentally impressive story with completely absolutely incredible characters that I cannot stop thinking about. No matter where it was going, even past stretches that were less interesting or more of a slog to read or worse, I could not put the story of Taylor Hebert down for one minute. Tattletale fascinated me every step of the way, I had to keep up with her. Rachel Lindt was a character I feel like I'd been waiting my whole life for. What was I gonna do, not see them through? I feel like Worm easily loses you if you don't particularly connect with the characters enough to justify to yourself the amount of time you'll spend with them, but man, I could not unglue my eyeballs from these people enough (I love all the core Undersiders, to be clear, I'd say it's Rachel > Taylor > Tattletale > Aisha and Alec and Brian, there are very small gaps between these, I just don't go berserk for the last three like I do for the first three, I'm taking Bitch and Skitter to the grave I'm dead serious)

Worm irreparably destroys your ability to engage with superhero fiction the same way ever again, as evidenced by the fact that it destroyed the author's own ability to engage with his own superhero fiction ever again. And everybody who read it has one or several gripes with it with some major dealbreakers in the mix. Tumblr's kinda the only place online where you can really talk about them at length without the spectre of John Wildbow hanging over the discussion, which enables discussion to the point where yes, maybe it does look like to outsiders that nobody can agree on whether Worm is good or what is it even about or whether it even has worms in it (it has at least one, although it's a very big one).

And it is good, it has the Undersiders in it and the Undersiders are one of the greatest groups of characters ever put together, but everyone has at least one major point of contention with Worm whether it's the timeskip or the length or the racism or the gross fatphobia or aspects surrounding the Dallon-Pelham Torment Nexus and etc. I'd say it has maybe the most racist vision of Latin America I've ever seen in a superhero text a hair short of pro-colonial tracts in Golden Age comics and that is a tall fucking order by any metric (part of why I started WEON4 as a project was motivated by spite, to try and make my own stories about non-American superheroes even if just as practice). It is Complicated, and that winds up making it so fascinating to talk about.

Worm has self-sustaining ecological systems of posts up here, far away from the Spacebattles and Reddit battlegrounds where it has different ones and that's not getting into Weaverdice or the sequel or Wildbow's larger body of work, which I haven't gotten to and probably will not any time soon because Worm was enough of a commitment as is. Do I recommend Worm to everyone? It is certainly not to everyone's tastes and I personally find it difficult to describe it simply enough to make it sound appealing or not like a pyramid scheme. But yes I do think it's good, in fact great, in fact, amazing, except when it isn't, and except it Plainly Sucks, but then something like Taylor vs Mannequin or Kevin Norton's interlude or "You needed worthy opponents" happens and it fucks harder than anything has ever fucked before and you don't walk away from it the same, so yes I guess "good" will have to do now.

It's certainly a lot but I definitely found it worth my time to read and then read the texts written about it here. You'll have to take my endorsement of Worm as proof of it's quality and proof of how deranged it makes it's readerbase, they're not mutually exclusive. If you can make it, Worm and the wormosphere has layers and layers to wade through and talk about and enjoy, despite how we're all so very small in the end *gunshot*.

#replies tag #worm #worm spoilers #wormblr #wildbow #superheroes #web serial

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sheastri · 5 days

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Hell N Back ft. op81

Pairing: oscar piastri x fem!black reader

Genre: Social Media AU with story

Summary: In which the reader was finally done with love until Oscar came into her life and charmed (all he had to do was exist) her into giving love another chance.

Warning(s): None.

A/N: Recently been thinking about f1 so I decided why not write??Title inspired by "Hell N Back Bakar ft. Summer Walker" because I've been obsessed with it lately!! No specific fan cast, just photos off of Pinterest.

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The First Meeting

2 years ago

Y/n was walking down a street flooded by shops all around her with her best friend, A'lidyah. The two women were in deep conversation about love. Y/n was almost sure she would never comfortably be in love again and A'lidyah was telling her that love comes to you when you least expect it.

"You shouldn't fully mark it off because of a few mishaps. And love comes in so many different forms and can be found in so many different aspects of life." A'lidyah explained while moving her hands to emphasize her point.

"You know what, you're right. I love seeing the smiles of the people who walk the streets, I love skipping through town hand in hand, and I love music. I'm so grateful to have you in my life, like seriously." Y/n said smiling at her friend sincerely. A'lidyah returned the smile saying something along the lines of "life would be so dull without you, i thank God for you everyday." The conversation then resumed, the two girls having smiles seemingly permanently edged on to their faces.

While Y/n was speaking she momentarily shifted her eyes to glance at something on the side of the street that A'lidyah stood on and in that quick second she had walked into someone. He managed to catch her by her waist before she had fallen and she immediately began apologizing before looking up at the man.

As Y/n shifted to meet the gaze of her saving grace, she found she was met with a face that displayed the thoughts crossing her mind at the moment. Wide eyes and mouth agape, the man must've been experiencing the shock that circled her mind at the moment. She only broke through this trance at the sound of a witch like cackling that could come from no one other than A'lidyah. Y/n raised her eyebrow and side eyed her best friend with a smile on her face before turning her attention back on to the man who stood in front of her.

They exchanged eye contact one last time before his hold on her waist loosened and Y/n stepped back and bent down to pick up the things that fell on the floor. Oscar soon joined her and then apologized for almost knocking her over.

"Ah, no worries it was mostly my fault and I was able to be saved by a handsome man so I'd say we're pretty even?" Y/n responded cheekily.

"A handsome man? And then you a beautiful woman? Almost seems like a match made in heaven, wouldn't cha say?" The man said while his face was very clearly flushed and he looked like he had to muster up all his confidence and self-control to not stutter. His pupils then went off to the side catching another woman in his line of sight. Seeing that the man had directed his attention to her A'lidyah began to speak.

"That's actually perfect, Y/n needs someone other than me to add a little bit of pizazz and all that fun stuff to her life, mind giving her a name?" A'lidyah says holding back a teasing smile. "Oh that's my bad. The names Oscar, Oscar Piastri. It's nice to meet you Y/n and..."

"Oh I'm A'lidyah! Her wife, her wingman, her manager, and most importantly her best friend. Oscar meet Y/n, Y/n meet Oscar!" The girl says enthusiastically. The two laugh but greet each other anyway.

They exchanged numbers and that day when Y/n went home she found the idea of love just a bit more appealing and Oscar... well let's just say his google history was flooded with many "Do I Have a Crush?" quizzes, a lot more "How to Know if Your in Love" blogs, and one slightly embarrassing question that his friends would definitely tease him about, not that they wouldn't tease him about what he had already been searching up anyway.

Y/n is now following Oscar Piastri

Oscar Piastri is now following Y/n

♫ Could you tell where my head was at when you found me? Me and you went to hell and back just to find peace ♫

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Current Time

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, whosalidyah, mclaren and 276,943 others

yourusername last photo is from me and lidyah's latest gossip session

view all 7,983 comments

whosalidyah not your boy in the likes...🤭

yourusername guys what is this crazy woman talking about?? username girl... you are NOT slick username not alidyah exposing her😭

carlossainz55 can't wait to meet you at our next race!

liked by creator

username anyone noticed that both oscar and mclaren liked??

username that's suspicious🤨 username that's weird...

oscarpiastri no photo creds after standing in the middle of the road to take that second one??

yourusername you're still alive and well?? landonorris justice for my boy oscar😪 whosalidyah burning all my number 4 mclaren merch landonorris I take back my earlier statement, I was misguided please forgive me oscarpiastri the things that love does to people🤦

username ignoring that 3rd photo for my peace of mind

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yourusername never bby 💕 oscarpiastri 🤥

mclaren come visit us in the paddock sometime soon!

yourusername I thought you'd never ask!! username oh?

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oscarpiastri

liked by yourusername, mclaren, landonorris, and 392,487 others

oscarpiastri Thanks to all the fans who came out to support @mclaren today.

yourusername Your nails are gorgg, who did them?? I need the number immediately🤭

oscarpiastri that information is classified🥱 username not y/n tryna act like those aren't her nails...

username babe... who's nails are those??

username why is lando lowkey looking like a snack in that photo??😩

landonorris it's just impossible for me to look bad, truly a gift and a curse😪 whosalidyah don't boost his ego too much now, im scared it might implode...

username just noticed that the nails match the colors on his helmet

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yourusername just a girl waiting for her photo creds

oscarpiastri just a boy waiting for the ones he was robbed of😣

username Now you're my everything, now it's on me.

mclaren

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, f1, and 203,587 others

mclaren Our papaya boys + Y/n = another good day in the paddock

yourusername I had an amazing time, thank you so much for inviting me (10/10 experience, would recommend).

mclaren You're welcome to join us again anytime!

username ok but who was y/n looking at because I don't think her smile could get any brighter??

username ik y/n was sick of them by the end of this😭

landnorris y/n run they're trying to recruit you

yourusername girl dw i'm already halfway down the road oscarpiastri 🤦 username lmao i love their dynamic

whosalidyah if only I didn't have exams

yourusername never leave me again, oscar and lando almost drove me insane whosalidyah igu next time babes🤞

username hope to see her at the paddock a lot more!

username oh to be y/n rn

username I could you tell where your head was at when I found you.

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Will You Be Mine?

1 year ago

Y/n was very excited for her date with the one and only Oscar Piastri, not like she hadn't gone on many with him before but he had said he had something very special planned which "fit her persona well", his words not hers. She was very suspicious seeing as basically all their dates filled her with joy and excitement, high standards to exceed, if she did say so herself.

She had gotten her nails painted prior to the date and had made sure her hair looked nice. She had also put on a pretty dress but not before playing dress up and have a whole fashion show in her room with A'lidyah. Her whole hype crew in one person, she was so blessed. While doing touch ups she heard the doorbell ring and practically flew downstairs to go and open the door.

Oscar stared down at her, his face leading her to think he was in a trance or something of the sort. Y/n loved the effect she had on him. She did a little twirl to show him the full fit knowing it would fluster him even more.

"Am I pretty enough for the occasion, Mr. Piastri?" Y/n said chuckling softly before leaving a mannequin like Oscar standing at the door in awe as she went to go grab her purse and let A'lidyah know it was time for her to go. She came back down and Oscar swore she looked like an angel descending from the heavens.

"Well, I'm waiting on an answer?"

"You are absolutely stunning, beyond pretty enough for the occasion, although those are definitely everyday qualities of yours."

"What a sweetheart!" Y/n said, once again teasing the man and taking pleasure in the blush that spread across his face, as she closed the door to the apartment and took Oscar's outstretched hand. As they made it to the car he opened the door for her and allowed her to enter before going around the car and getting in himself.

"Ouhh my favorite song is playing, did you orchestrate this or is the universe just working overtime?" The girl spoke softly in a joking manner.

"A magician can't reveal all his tricks." Oscar said jokingly before smiling softly at the girl in the passenger seat and taking in the joy that radiated from her being. They drove with soft music in the background and just the amazing scenery to guide them through the city. Once they got to the destination, which seemed like a garden of some sort, Oscar practically ran over to her side of the car. Once he had opened the door for her he covered her eyes with his hands.

"Oscar, your coordination better be on point because if I trip your days will be numbered." she said seriously with a hint of humor in her voice.

"Wouldn't be the first time you've fallen for me, now would it love?" Oscar teased as he walked her over to the romantic picnic spot he had set up for her.

"Girl, you know what... just don't be surprised when I jump you." Y/n said playfully. They then came to a stop and and Oscar uncovered her eyes allowing her to see the scene that he had put together. When Y/n saw the sign that said "Will You Be Mine?" her heart felt as though it would jump out of her chest. When she turned to face Oscar he got down on one knee and began to speak before she could say anything.

"From the moment I met you I knew that we would be inevitable. You're intricate but gorgeous hairstyles, your dough like eyes, and your beautiful aura had put me in an immediate trance and I remember thinking 'woah'. My friends once told me that when I looked at you it seemed as though stars had been placed in my eyes purposely as if to gaze upon you meant my pupils had seen an unknown galaxy deeply treasured by the cosmos. So, will you allow me a place in your heart in which I beg to stay for an eternity."

Y/n immediately broke down crying before saying yes a million times and jumping into Oscar's warm embrace.

"I will do my best to treasure your heart." Y/n said before pulling Oscar in for a kiss.

That night the stars danced above them as though rejoicing.

♫ Know life been lifin' lately, so I save you if you save me ♫

୨୧–------------------------------------------୨୧

Current Time

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, whosalidyah, and 479,502 others

yourusername I was over love, thought I had enough, then I found you @oscarpiastri

This posts comments have been limited to users mentioned

oscarpiastri I was no doubt, stressed out without you.

yourusername the only man ever🤭

oscarpiastri

liked by yourusername, landonorris, and 923,547 others

oscarpiastri All we got is us, when nobody does, I got you @yourusername

This posts comments have been limited to users mentioned

yourusername For your sanity and my mentality.

oscarpiastri mine, in every universe

yourusername omg I'm literally your biggest fan!!

oscarpiastri well I would hope so🤨

୨୧–------------------------------------------୨୧

♫ Man, I thought I had everything, I was lonely... Now you're my everything, now it's on me... ♫

୨୧–------------------------------------------୨୧

212 notes · View notes

estapa-edwards · 20 days

Text

TUTOR - E.EDWARDS

paring: Ethan Edwards x fem! reader

word count: 4.9k

requested? no

warnings: use of y/n. slow burn!

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

The University of Michigan was a place of both challenge and opportunity, especially for those who were part of its renowned hockey team. Mark Estapa, my brother, was one of the key players on the team, and his friend Ethan Edwards was right there with him. The name Ethan Edwards was not unfamiliar to me; I had heard it countless times from Mark, usually followed by tales of impressive goals and game-winning plays.

It all started one afternoon at the hockey rink. I was there watching Mark practice, as I often did, cheering him on from the sidelines. After practice, Coach Naurato approached me, his expression serious, a stark contrast to the lively demeanor he exhibited during hockey practices.

"Y/N," he began, "I've heard from Mark how smart you are. Ethan is struggling with his academics, and I think you would be a great tutor for him. Would you consider helping him out?"

The idea caught me off guard. Ethan Edwards? The very same person who had made more than one snide remark about me in class? The thought of spending extra time with him was far from appealing.

"Coach," I hesitated, "I'm not sure that's such a good idea. Ethan and I don't exactly get along."

Coach Naurato sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I understand, Y/N, but I believe you're the best person to help him. Please, just think about it."

The weight of the decision pressed on me as I left the rink. The thought of helping someone who had shown me little respect was difficult to swallow. However, the importance of the hockey team to Mark, and the trust Coach Naurato placed in me, made me reconsider.

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After a few days of internal debate, I finally decided to give it a shot. I approached Ethan after our next class together, a hesitant smile on my face.

"Ethan, Coach Naurato told me about the tutoring," I started, trying to sound as friendly as possible. "I'm willing to help you out if you're serious about improving your grades."

Ethan looked surprised, his icy blue eyes narrowing slightly. "Why would you do that? We're not exactly best friends, Y/N."

I took a deep breath, trying to keep my patience intact. "This isn't about us becoming friends, Ethan. It's about helping you stay on the team and doing right by Mark."

There was a moment of silence, tension hanging in the air. Finally, Ethan nodded reluctantly. "Alright, fine. When do we start?"

Our first tutoring session was nothing short of a disaster. Ethan's attitude was immediately confrontational, making the atmosphere tense and uncomfortable from the start. He slouched in his chair, arms crossed defiantly, as he looked at the math problems I had prepared for him.

"Are we ever going to use this in real life?" he scoffed, pushing the paper away from him as if it were contaminated.

I took a deep breath, trying to maintain my composure. "Ethan, this is basic algebra. It's not just about solving for 'x'; it's about developing problem-solving skills that are essential for understanding more complex concepts later on."

Ethan rolled his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips. "Problem-solving skills? I've got plenty of those on the ice. What's the point of all this?"

I could feel my frustration growing, but I tried to stay focused on the task at hand. "The point, Ethan, is to help you improve academically so you can continue to play hockey. Coach Naurato believes in you, and so do I. But you have to be willing to put in the effort."

Ethan leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms even tighter. "Well, this is a waste of time. I don't need your help."

The session ended with both of us frustrated and no real progress made. I left the classroom that day questioning whether I was the right person for the job, doubting my ability to help someone who seemed so determined to resist. Ethan, on the other hand, seemed to revel in his own stubbornness, as if proving a point by refusing to cooperate.

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One evening, Ethan and I were deep into our tutoring session. We had been working on a particularly challenging math problem for what felt like hours, both of us growing increasingly frustrated as we struggled to find the solution.

"Just think it through step by step," I encouraged, pointing to the problem on the paper in front of us. "You're almost there, Ethan."

He looked at the problem, then back at me, a look of concentration on his face. Slowly, a spark of understanding appeared in his eyes.

"I think I've got it," he said, his voice filled with excitement.

I watched as he worked through the problem, his pencil moving quickly across the paper. And then, just like that, he arrived at the correct answer.

"Yes! I did it!" Ethan exclaimed, jumping up from his chair.

Caught up in the moment, I jumped up too, and before we knew it, we were hugging each other in celebration. It was a spontaneous, genuine expression of joy and relief, and for a moment, all the tension and awkwardness between us seemed to melt away.

But as quickly as the moment had come, it was gone. We both pulled away awkwardly, realizing the unexpected intimacy of the hug.

"Uh, sorry about that," Ethan mumbled, his cheeks turning a shade of red I had never seen before.

"No, it's okay," I stammered, equally embarrassed.

Outside of our tutoring sessions, however, our relationship remained as strained as ever. Our newfound camaraderie seemed to exist only within the confines of the classroom, disappearing as soon as we stepped outside the door.

During hockey practices and games, Ethan and I were back to being at odds with each other. He would make snide remarks, and I would respond with sarcastic comments of my own. Mark tried to mediate, reminding us both of the progress we had made, but it seemed that our truce was limited to our time spent studying together.

It was frustrating, to say the least, to see Ethan revert to his old ways so easily. But I tried to focus on the positive, reminding myself of the progress we had made and the genuine friendship that was slowly developing between us.

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One Friday night, Mark convinced me to join him and the rest of the team at a frat party. I wasn’t much of a party person, but he promised it would be a good way to unwind and have some fun. Reluctantly, I agreed, not anticipating the events that would unfold.

The frat house was packed with students, the music blaring and the atmosphere electric. Despite my initial reservations, I found myself enjoying the night, laughing and dancing with Mark and his teammates. However, as the night wore on, I made the mistake of indulging a bit too much in the drinks being passed around.

By the time midnight rolled around, I was considerably more intoxicated than I had intended to be. My vision was blurry, my balance unsteady, and the room seemed to spin around me. I knew I needed to get out of there, but the idea of walking home by myself in my current state was daunting.

As I stumbled towards the exit, I felt a hand on my arm, steadying me. I looked up to find Ethan Edwards standing beside me, a concerned expression on his face.

"Y/N, are you okay?" he asked, his voice tinged with genuine concern.

"I'm fine," I slurred, trying to pull away from him. "I just need to walk home."

Ethan looked at me incredulously, clearly recognizing that I was in no condition to make it home safely on my own.

"You're not walking home like this," he said firmly. "I'll drive you."

I scoffed at his suggestion, my intoxicated mind unable to process the genuine concern in his eyes.

"I am not driving home with you, are you crazy?" I snapped, my words slurring together.

Ethan sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Look, Y/N, I know we don't get along, but I'm not going to let you walk home alone like this. It's not safe."

Despite my intoxicated state, I knew he was right. Reluctantly, I nodded, allowing him to guide me towards his car.

The car ride was quiet, the tension palpable. I stared out the window, trying to ignore the pounding headache and the nauseous feeling that threatened to overtake me. Ethan drove carefully, his eyes focused on the road ahead, seemingly determined to get me home safely.

As we pulled up to my apartment, I mustered the strength to speak, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Thank you, Ethan," I said, my words slurred but sincere. "I appreciate it."

Ethan glanced over at me, a soft smile on his face. "You're welcome, Y/N. Just... take care of yourself, okay?"

Just as I was about to reply, a sudden wave of nausea washed over me. Panic set in as I realized I was about to be sick.

"Ethan, pull over!" I yelled, my voice frantic.

Without hesitation, Ethan swerved the car to the side of the road, unlocking the doors and jumping out of the car to help. I barely had time to open the door before I was leaning out, vomiting onto the side of the road.

Ethan was right beside me, holding my hair back and rubbing my back soothingly as I emptied my stomach. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, there was a gentleness to his actions that I hadn't expected.

Once I was done, Ethan handed me a bottle of water he had in the car, and I rinsed my mouth out before spitting onto the grass.

"Are you okay?" he asked, genuine concern in his eyes.

I nodded weakly, grateful for his help despite the embarrassment of the situation.

"Yeah, I'm okay," I replied, my voice shaky. "Thank you, Ethan. I'm really sorry about this."

Ethan shook his head, dismissing my apology with a wave of his hand. "Don't worry about it, Y/N. Just make sure you get inside safely, okay?"

I nodded, suddenly feeling exhausted and ready to be home. "I will. Thanks again, Ethan."

As I made my way towards my apartment, I couldn't help but feel a mixture of embarrassment and gratitude towards Ethan. Despite our differences and the strained relationship we had, he had shown me kindness and concern in a moment of need.

As I closed the door behind me and leaned against it, taking a moment to collect myself, I realized that perhaps there was more to Ethan Edwards than met the eye. Our relationship was still complicated, but in that vulnerable moment, I couldn't help but feel a newfound respect for him.

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The next day, I woke up with a pounding headache and a sense of regret about the previous night's events. As I tried to piece together the evening, my thoughts kept drifting back to Ethan and his unexpected kindness. I found myself wondering if maybe, just maybe, there was more to him than the cocky, arrogant persona he often displayed.

Later that day, I received a text from Ethan.

Ethan: Hey, Y/N. Just wanted to check in and make sure you're feeling okay after last night. Let me know if you need anything.

I stared at the message for a moment, surprised by his thoughtfulness. It was a simple gesture, but it spoke volumes about his character.

Me: Hey Ethan, thanks for checking in. I'm feeling better, just a bit embarrassed about last night. I appreciate your help.

Ethan: No need to be embarrassed. We've all been there. Glad you're feeling better. If you ever need a ride or anything, just let me know.

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During a team dinner at a local restaurant, Ethan couldn't resist making another snide comment. The atmosphere was already buzzing with the excitement of Family Weekend, and I had been invited to join Mark and the team for the special occasion. Despite the festive mood, Ethan seemed determined to maintain our strained relationship.

"So, Y/N," he began, a sly grin on his face, "Do you tutor everyone on the team, or am I just lucky?"

I took a deep breath, trying to maintain my composure. I didn't want to cause a scene in front of Mark and the rest of the team, especially during a family event. "I tutor those who need help, Ethan. It's nothing personal."

He chuckled, taking a sip of his drink. "Sure, sure," he replied, the underlying tension clear in his tone.

Frustrated and tired of his constant jabs, I pulled Ethan aside, hoping to address the issue privately.

"Ethan, can we talk?" I asked, my voice low and controlled.

He looked at me, seemingly caught off guard by my request. "Sure, what's on your mind?"

"I didn't even want to tutor you," I admitted, my frustration evident. "Coach Naurato asked me to help you because Mark mentioned how much I've helped him with his academics. I agreed because I wanted to help you stay on the team, not because I enjoy being ridiculed by you at every opportunity."

Ethan looked at me, his expression changing from surprise to hurt. "I knew Coach asked you to tutor me because of Mark," he said quietly. "But hearing you say you didn't want to... it stings, Y/N."

I sighed, realizing the impact of my words. "Ethan, it's not that I didn't want to help you improve. It's your attitude towards me that's made this so challenging. Why do you do this to me?"

Ethan looked at me, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. "I don't know, Y/N," he admitted, his voice softer than I had ever heard it. "I guess it's easier to push people away than to admit that I need help."

I raised an eyebrow, surprised by his honesty. "So, you're saying all this animosity is just a defense mechanism?"

He shrugged, avoiding my gaze. "Maybe. It's just... I've always had to prove myself, I guess I'm just used to putting up walls."

I took a moment to process his words, feeling a pang of empathy. "Ethan, I get it. We all have our insecurities and ways of protecting ourselves. But that doesn't give you the right to treat me poorly."

He nodded, looking back up at me. "I know, Y/N. I'm sorry. I'll try to do better."

I looked at him, searching his eyes for any sign of sincerity. "Alright, Ethan. I'll give you another chance. But you need to show me that you're serious about changing. And it can't just be in private, Ethan. You need to treat me with respect in front of other people too."

He nodded, determination in his eyes. "I promise, Y/N. Things will change."

Feeling a sense of relief and hope, I impulsively stepped forward and wrapped my arms around Ethan in a brief hug. To my surprise, he hesitated for a moment before cautiously returning the embrace.

Little did we know, Mark had walked into the restaurant at that exact moment and witnessed the entire exchange. A look of suspicion crossed his face as he watched us, his instincts telling him that something had changed between his sister and his teammate.

As Ethan and I pulled apart, we were unaware of the scrutiny we were now under. Mark's suspicions were piqued, and he couldn't shake the feeling that something significant had just occurred between us.

The atmosphere at the dinner table had noticeably shifted, and I couldn't help but feel a mix of anticipation and anxiety. While Ethan seemed genuinely committed to changing his behavior, the unintended consequence of Mark's newfound suspicion added a layer of complexity to our already complicated relationship.

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As the weeks passed, Ethan and I continued to spend more time together, both during our tutoring sessions and outside of them. Our relationship was slowly evolving, and the mutual animosity we once shared was gradually being replaced by a growing friendship and understanding.

However, Mark began to notice the change in our dynamics. He would often spot us together around campus, studying in the library, grabbing coffee, or even just chatting and laughing in the university courtyard. Despite our best efforts to keep our growing friendship under wraps, it was becoming increasingly difficult to hide the bond that was forming between us.

Mark couldn't shake the feeling that something was going on between his best friend and his sister. The secretiveness of our newfound friendship only heightened his suspicions. Why would Ethan and I keep this a secret from him if there was nothing to hide?

One evening, after a particularly productive tutoring session, Ethan and I were walking back to our dorms when we ran into Mark outside the hockey rink. He looked surprised to see us together, his eyes narrowing as he took in our relaxed demeanor.

"Hey, Y/N, Ethan," Mark greeted, his tone friendly but his eyes betraying a hint of suspicion. "What are you two up to?"

"We just finished a study session," I replied, trying to sound casual. "Ethan's really making progress."

Ethan nodded, offering Mark a genuine smile. "Yeah, Y/N's been a huge help."

Mark studied us for a moment, clearly not buying our casual demeanor. "That's great to hear," he said, his tone still friendly but now laced with curiosity. "You two seem to be spending a lot of time together."

I felt my cheeks heat up, realizing that our secret was becoming harder and harder to keep. "We're just friends, Mark. Nothing more."

Ethan chimed in, "Yeah, just trying to get my grades up and stay on the team."

Mark looked between us, his suspicion not completely alleviated but not wanting to push the issue further. "Alright, just remember, Ethan, she's my sister," he said, half-jokingly but with a serious undertone.

Ethan nodded, "I know, Mark. I'll always respect that."

Despite Mark's attempt to convince himself that there was nothing going on between Ethan and me, his suspicions continued to gnaw at him. He couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal, knowing that the two closest people in his life were keeping something from him. Even though they weren't explicitly dating, the closeness between Ethan and me felt like a betrayal of his trust.

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As days turned into weeks, Mark found himself growing increasingly frustrated and angry. He couldn't understand why Ethan and I would keep our growing relationship a secret from him if there was nothing more to it. The more he thought about it, the more it fueled his suspicion and resentment.

One evening, Mark confronted me about his suspicions. We were alone in our dorm room, and the tension between us was palpable.

"Y/N, I need to know the truth," Mark said, his voice strained with emotion. "Are you and Ethan... more than just friends?"

I hesitated, unsure of how to respond. The truth was that Ethan and I had grown closer over the past few weeks, but we hadn't officially defined our relationship. However, I couldn't deny the growing feelings I had developed for him.

"Mark, I... I don't know what to say," I replied, feeling torn between my loyalty to my brother and my burgeoning feelings for Ethan.

Mark's expression darkened, his anger bubbling to the surface. "Don't play dumb with me, Y/N. I've seen the way you two look at each other, the way you're always together. How could you keep this from me?"

I sighed, feeling a wave of guilt wash over me. "I'm sorry, Mark. I never meant to hurt you. It just... happened."

Mark shook his head, unable to hide his disappointment. "I thought I could trust you, Y/N. I thought Ethan was my friend. But it turns out, I was wrong about both of you."

I reached out to him, desperate to mend our fractured relationship. "Mark, please. I know this is difficult, but I care about Ethan. And I care about you. I don't want to lose either of you."

But Mark pulled away, his trust shattered. "I need some time, Y/N. I need to figure out how to deal with this betrayal."

As he left the room, the weight of his words hung heavy in the air. I knew that repairing the damage to our relationship would take time and effort, but I was determined to do whatever it took to make things right.

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During the next hockey practice, the tension between Mark and Ethan was palpable. Both were competitive and passionate about the sport, but the underlying animosity stemming from Mark's feelings of betrayal added a new level of intensity to their interactions on the ice.

As they found themselves on opposite teams during a scrimmage, Mark's aggression towards Ethan became increasingly evident. He was playing more aggressively than usual, delivering harder checks and playing with a level of determination that seemed fueled by his feelings of anger and betrayal.

Ethan, sensing the change in Mark's demeanor, tried to keep his cool and focus on the game. However, it became increasingly challenging as Mark continued to target him, making the practice more of a personal vendetta than a team exercise.

At one point, during a particularly heated moment in the game, Mark delivered a high check to Ethan, causing him to crash into the boards. The impact was hard, and Ethan fell to the ice, clutching his shoulder in pain.

The coach blew the whistle, signaling an end to the scrimmage and rushing onto the ice to check on Ethan's condition. The entire team gathered around, their concern evident as Ethan struggled to his feet, wincing from the pain.

"Are you okay, Ethan?" Coach Naurato asked, his voice filled with concern.

Ethan nodded, trying to brush off the incident. "I'm fine, just a bit shaken up."

Mark, realizing the gravity of his actions, looked visibly remorseful as he approached Ethan. "I'm sorry, Ethan. I let my emotions get the best of me. That was uncalled for."

Ethan looked at Mark, his expression a mix of pain and understanding. "It's okay, Mark. I get it. But we need to figure this out."

The coach, sensing the need to address the situation immediately, called for a team meeting to discuss the underlying issues and find a way to resolve the tension between Mark and Ethan.

"As a team, we need to support each other, both on and off the ice," Coach Naurato began, addressing the entire team. "Personal issues should not interfere with our performance and unity as a team."

Mark and Ethan exchanged a glance, realizing that their personal issues were affecting not only their relationship but also the team's dynamics and performance.

"We need to find a way to resolve our differences and work together for the sake of the team," Ethan said, breaking the silence.

Mark nodded, his expression serious. "I agree, Ethan. I let my emotions cloud my judgment, and I'm sorry."

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When I found out about the altercation between Mark and Ethan during practice, I was furious. I couldn't believe that their personal issues had escalated to the point where it was affecting the entire team. Determined to resolve the situation once and for all, I called them both over to my apartment.

As they entered, they could sense the anger and frustration in my demeanor. I didn't waste any time getting to the point.

"What the hell were you two thinking?" I exclaimed, my voice filled with anger. "You let your personal issues get in the way of the team's performance, and it's not okay!"

Mark and Ethan exchanged a guilty glance, realizing the gravity of their actions and the impact it had on the team.

Before they could respond, I continued, "I'm tired of this tension between you two. If you have a problem with each other, then deal with it like adults and stop letting it affect the team!"

Mark looked at me, his expression a mix of guilt and understanding. "You're right, Y/N. I let my emotions get the best of me, and I'm sorry. It's not fair to you, Ethan, or the team."

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my anger. "It's not just about the team, Mark. It's about your friendship with Ethan and your trust in me. I can't believe you would let this situation escalate to the point where it affects our relationship."

Mark looked at me, his expression softening. "Y/N, I've thought about it a lot, and if you and Ethan want to date, I'm okay with it. I'd be happy to have Ethan as a possible brother-in-law. I just need to know that you're both serious about each other and that this won't happen again."

Ethan looked at Mark, surprised by his admission. "Mark, are you serious? You're okay with Y/N and me dating?"

I turned to Ethan, my eyes widening in surprise. "You would want to date me?" I asked, my voice tinged with a mixture of surprise and hope.

Ethan smiled, his eyes softening as he looked at me. "Yes, Y/N, I would. Despite our initial disagreements and the challenges we've faced, I've come to care about you deeply. I'd like to see where this relationship could go, if you're willing."

I felt my heart swell with emotion, touched by his sincerity and the vulnerability he was displaying. "Ethan, I've developed feelings for you too. Despite everything, I've come to appreciate the person you are underneath all the bravado. I'd like to see where this could lead as well."

Mark, witnessing the exchange, let out a soft chuckle. "Well, it seems like the feelings are mutual. Just promise me that you both will be honest with each other and with me moving forward. I want you both to be happy, but I also want to make sure that this won't cause any issues with the team or our friendship."

Ethan and I nodded in agreement, grateful for Mark's understanding and support. "We promise, Mark," I assured him. "Our relationship won't change our commitment to our friendship or the team."

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After Mark had given his approval for Ethan and me to date, the dynamic between the three of us shifted noticeably. The tension that once clouded our interactions began to dissipate, replaced by a newfound sense of camaraderie and mutual respect.

Mark, always the protective older brother, now seemed more at ease with our relationship. He made an effort to include Ethan in our family gatherings and often invited him over for dinner or to watch hockey games on TV. It was clear that Mark was trying to build a strong relationship with Ethan, not just as a teammate but now also as a potential future brother-in-law.

One evening, Mark organized a small get-together at our family home. It was an informal gathering, with just a few close friends and teammates. As Ethan and I arrived, Mark greeted us warmly at the door, a genuine smile on his face.

"Hey, you two. Come on in," Mark said, giving me a playful nudge and a wink. "Ethan, glad you could make it."

"Thanks for having us, Mark," Ethan replied, returning the smile. "Smells great in here."

Throughout the evening, Mark made an effort to involve both Ethan and me in conversations, ensuring we felt comfortable and included. He even shared a few embarrassing childhood stories about me, much to my chagrin, but it was all in good fun and made for a lively and enjoyable evening.

As the night wore on, Mark pulled Ethan aside for a private conversation. I couldn't help but feel a bit anxious, wondering what they were discussing. After a few minutes, they rejoined the group, both of them wearing satisfied smiles.

"Everything okay?" I asked, looking between the two of them.

"Yeah, everything's great," Mark replied, putting an arm around Ethan's shoulders. "I've got to say, Y/N, you've picked a good one."

Ethan chuckled, his cheeks turning a shade of red. "Thanks, Mark. I think you're pretty great too."

As the months passed, our relationship continued to flourish, and Mark's initial reservations about Ethan and me dating seemed to fade away completely. He became one of our biggest supporters, always there to offer advice, lend a listening ear, or celebrate our milestones as a couple.

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One weekend, Ethan and I planned a getaway trip to a cabin in the mountains. Knowing that Mark was an experienced hiker and outdoorsman, we invited him to join us. To our surprise, he agreed, and the three of us spent a memorable weekend hiking, exploring, and bonding over shared meals and campfire stories.

By the end of the trip, it was clear that Ethan had earned Mark's trust and respect. They had forged a strong bond, built on mutual interests and a shared love for adventure. As we packed up to leave, Mark pulled Ethan aside for another private conversation.

"Take care of her, okay?" Mark said, his voice filled with sincerity.

"You have my word, Mark," Ethan replied, shaking Mark's hand firmly. "I care about Y/N deeply, and I'll always do my best to make her happy."

As we drove back home, I couldn't help but feel a profound sense of gratitude and happiness. I was grateful for Ethan's unwavering support and love, but also for Mark's acceptance and the bond we had all formed together.

honestly I hate this, but I wanted to get something out for you guys. Please dont be afraid to request!

#ethan edwards #ethan edwards x reader #ethan edwards x y/n #umich hockey #hockey #ethan edwards x oc #mark estapa

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queenie-avenue · 2 months

Text

This is a man's world, but she rules it.

💌 ⤻ THE MAFIA BOSS, VITTORIA COSTANZA ft. THE COVER

—> the devil wears prada.

⤻ reader is female (i really needed some delulu), kidnapping, typical mafia activities, toxic behaviour, posesseive and obsessive behaviour, mentions of misogyny, conversion therapy and homophobia, death, non-consensual kissing

notes: thank you to @ciaheyhimm for allowing me to use this character! isabella was originally a character from a mafia roleplay set in the 1940s to 50s. please go check that blog out, they are a historical blog and i believe that she is writing a book at the moment!

💌 ⤻ archives.

"Thank you for your help in locating down my dearest [y/n]." The woman in the shadows spoke. That accent, that strong accent and overbearing smell of perfume... you found yourself thinking of one single person that came to your mind. Even her heels, branded with her own fashion brand 'Costanza' confirmed to you who this person was.

"Of course, I am a bit disappointed that you — how do you say? — compromised their location and safety to me, even as their bodyguard." She spoke, your body still laying paralysed against the lush bed that Vittoria had no doubt prepared for you. Ribbons of the finest silk bound your hands together, even as the drug forced you to stay put. It seemed she wanted to be very very sure that you wouldn't escape her, again.

Even the dress you were wearing, it was designed by her. Her brand's ribbons were on your body, a mark of her.

Your Father had disapproved of your relationship, with both of you two being girls and all... but you hadn't expected her to go this far.

"I can't trust someone like that out of the field. Who knows, if someone offers you some money, if you'd spill the beans on this little stunt of mine." You heard something click, and your head snapped over, eyes widened.

Then a gunshot sounded, causing you to scream before a body slumped to the ground, blood bleeding out from the shadows.

"Ay, aye, my Belleza, you should have told me you were awake." Her hips swayed as she emerged from the shadows. Her beautiful crimson red dress showed off the body you loved so much.

"Vitta, what the hell." You muttered as your attempted to raise yourself out of bed, only to be held down by the drugs in your system and the silk ribbons restraining you.

Slowly, she stalked towards you, like you were a prey she was ready to kill and feast on. But then, she simply sits on the edge of 'your' bed and begins to undress herself, slipping her zipper down as it revealed a petticoat underneath, and a corset that held her curved body together like a contorted doll, laced too tightly. You were so happy to get her out of it at one point, but when she stripped this time, it was intimidating.

"Darling." She whispered as she leaned in to caress your cheek. "I had to." She smiled, and that smile was so wicked, like the demoness Lilith had come to life in front of you.

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

When you first met Vittoria, it was at a gala. A gala meant to celebrate Vittoria Costanzo's newest fashion collection, based on something you didn't bother listening to. You dressed in whatever your Father wanted you to dress in, which was most of the time, dresses that appealed to the male gaze in hopes of finding you a catch of a husband he could give you away to.

"Ah... Mister [l/n], what a pleasure to meet you." The woman that approached you was stunning. Her strawberry blonde hair was tossed into victory curls, showing off her gorgeous neckline and strong collarbone. She was dressed head to toe in red, the colour of blood. Even her lips, so delicate and beautifully shaped, were stained in that perfect shade of crimson that seemed to draw in attention to her and only her. You wondered whether she had informed everyone that she was the only one allowed to wear red on that day.

"And who might this cute little lady be?" Little lady? You were about the same age as her.

"Ah, this is my daughter, I don't believe you've met." Grinned your Father as he pat you forward, introducing you to the woman.

"A pleasure to meet you." You curtsied quaintly.

Instead of returning the curtsey, Vittoria snatched your gloved hand and planted a kiss there. Like a gentleman would to a lady. The red lipstick stained your gloves, marking you as her own.

"The pleasure is all mine." Her eyes glinted and you felt your cheeks heat up, as if she could see right through you. "As much as I'd love to stay here and chat with the both of you, I have to go entertain the rest of my sponsors." Vittoria grinned charmingly, "I'm sure you understand, Mister [l/n]." She waved goodbye to the two of you and you swore you saw her wink in your direction.

Before you could compose yourself, you heard your father groan and gag. "I cannot believe a woman like her would dare show her face and intentions like that."

"What do you mean?" You turned to him. Your father was never a pleasant man, but he would never say something so outright.

He narrowed his eyes at you and leaned down. "That woman is rumoured to be queer." He spat out the word like it was the worst thing he could say. "Of course, a working woman would be something like that. She has no man in her life, so she wants to prey on innocent girls." Laughed your Father, which made you cringe.

"I will go get a cup of lemonade." You said to him as you flitted away like a butterfly as he went to talk to some other influential man.

Just as you picked out a drink, one of the waiters came over to you. "Madam Costanza has told me to deliver this message to you." You tilted your head as you looked at the tray he was carrying, a small card placed on it. You hesitantly took it and flipped it over, only reading it when you saw that no one was looking in your direction.

"That dress looks amazing on you. Perhaps if you come to my studio one of these days, I could design an even better dress for you." The card was sealed with a kiss from her red lipstick. Your gloved fingers smeared over the stain as you let out a sharp breath. The card wasn't signed, but you knew who had written it to tempt you.

Thus was the start of your affair with Vittoria Constanza, the most skilled fashion designer in Italy.

So how in the world did it end up this way? Your Father had figured out that you were having an affair with the lady and barred you from leaving your room, trying different forms of 'therapy' on you to convert you back into a normal woman. But nothing worked. He grew angrier day by day because of that. Not to mention, an illusive crime syndicate had decided to ruin his business with backstreet dealings. They exposed his tax fraud and more, which caused your Father to grow bankrupt and yet still, he did not allow you out of his grasp.

Then, that same mafia that ruined your family's business stormed your house. It was too obvious, not at all like the subtle actions the mafia normally acted out. It was chaotic and messy as they slaughtered any and all bodyguards that tried to fight back.

You felt strong arms behind you, force-feeding you some spill that you almost puked out. But the man simply shoved it in.

The last thing you saw was your Father's head being blown open by the a gun that Isabella held. She had pulled the trigger, and you screamed weakly before collapsing in the arms of the man.

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

Vittoria leaned over. "Are you feeling better? You've been out for a bit." She said in such a sweet tone, cooing at you like she had done when she cradled you in her arms inside of her fashion studio.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Vitta, Darling. Your Vittoria." She smiled. "Don't tell me those drugs changed your memory, my dear!" She chuckled. "I would have to kill the scientists that gave it to me."

"That's not what I meant!" You tried to get up, but you were restrained. Thank god the drug was starting to wear off, though, at least you could use your hands now. "You- you're part of the mafia." You said, terrified of the woman seated over you.

"Oh dear, I'm not just part of the mafia. When I join something, I make sure that I'm always at the top of it." Overconfidence dripped from her tongue as she rolled her eyes, "I rule the mafia. And I've taken you in to be a Queen by my side."

"Are you fucking crazy!" You yelled at her.

"Crazy in love, yes." She leaned in to press a chaste kiss to your lips. "I understand that you don't want to forgive me right now, but this is just a spat between lovers. You'll forgive me eventually." She smiled softly, pressing yet another kiss to your restrained form.

You weren't sure of what lay ahead this odd fate God had thrust you into but you were sure you would never forgive Vittoria.

"I love you." She whispered, pressing yet another kiss, this time to your forehead.

"In this world of shadows, you're the only light in my life. So I won't let you escape."

#yandere oc #yandere blog #yandere imagines #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere female x reader #female yandere #female yandere x reader #yandere female #yandere fic #yandere #let's go lesbians #yandere mafia

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zairene · 10 months

Text

earth 42! miles morales as a streamer headcanons

warnings: none but fluff

a/n: aight had to whip this out of the drafts since my LAST miles post got a community label. + i wasn’t too proud of it anyways so i just took it down. </3 i’ll probably put it back up once i try to figure out what’s wrong w it though.

miles would most definitely be a gaming and music reaction streamer. he would always be up to date with the newest games but let brent faiyaz drop a new album or something, and he gets RIGHT on it!

you would expect majority of his audience to be girls because of his good looks and nice personality, however he seems to be more appealing to guys since he rages on the games he plays quite a lot. (he is not very fond of mercy players on overwatch and hates winston mains with a passion.)

he has a pretty big fanbase, ranging from around 800k-1M followers on twitch and 500k subscribers on his twitch highlights channel. and the only reason why his following got this huge in only a year’s span is because he went viral on tiktok because of him raging at a game and then his sound became a trend. now most audios on tiktok are from his streams, and honestly he finds it hilarious.

now miles is really private about his life outside of streaming. he’ll answer the basic questions about his age, his race/ethnicity, how many siblings he has and etc. but anything about his relationship status or anything was kept strictly confidential.

that was until one day you walked in his room while streaming. it was a normal stream, he was just talking to chat and answering questions per usual. you had brought him some food since he had since you some money via cash app to do so. you didn’t know he was streaming so you just came and hugged him, even giving him a kiss, and then handed him his food. you didn’t even pay attention to the stream and kept going with your business. he had got so caught up in the moment he hadn’t realized that he was still streaming and his chat was going crazy.

he was shocked to say at the least but he wasn’t mad at you or anything. he was more mad at his chat for trying to spit game at you even though they had saw the whole ordeal. once you were informed that you were dating the miles morales, your social medias, that were once very private, started blowing up with notifications asking you about your relationship with miles.

miles took this opportunity to properly introduce you on his instagram story. about two weeks after the situation happened, he posted a picture with you and him for your 6th month anniversary. the caption saying, “happy 6th month anniversary to my beautiful girlfriend. te amo tanto. <3 @[yourusername]”

and so the news was out. from this point forward, you started to pop up in the streams a little more often and you started to grow this special little friendship with his fanbase. you once just came into his room because you wanted a hug and the entire chat was filled with “AWWW!!! YOU GUYS ARE SO CUTE!!” and “mbn.. 😔💔”s. now not EVERYONE was happy with this situation and some people spread hate comments here and there but because of the overwhelming support of your relationship, miles barely noticed it. the only thing he had on his mind was you and his career.

TAGLIST :: @kisamekiss @kazuminari @planetlunaa @mypimpademia @megurulvr @dreampurpledreams @chinieh @naijagrl @looking4chanel @pixieplush17 @jogeto @laylasbunbunny @jamies-cumslut @sapphicshav @banqnaz @edgyficuselastica

TAGLIST FORM

#[♩] irene’s works.#spiderman atsv x reader #spiderman atsv x black reader #spiderman atsv x black fem reader #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x reader #miles morales x black reader #miles morales x black fem reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales x black reader #earth 42 miles x black fem reader

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marc-spectorr · 2 years

Text

hate to love you

ˣ pairing: poe dameron x f!reader

ˣ summary: being stranded on a planet? not a problem, at least rescue’s coming. the real issue is that it means for twelve hours, you’re stuck with poe dameron.

ˣ warnings: 7.7k wc. explicit smut (oral/vaginal) and language. enemies-ish to lovers & forced proximity trope. mentions of blood & injuries. kinda soft!

ˣ a/n: “it’s been 84 years…” seriously tho i apologize for the big delay in posting ;_; but yay here’s my first official poe fic! i didn’t intend for this to be quite long, still i hope you enjoy 🤍

You’re seething with anger.

A red, hot, and blinding rage.

One more word out of your Commander, and you swear you’d make him regret having survived that crash landing.

You couldn’t care any less for his half-assed excuses. The weak explanations and baseless assumptions that only boil your blood. Even the sound of his mere voice has you so irritated that you wish the explosion had blown out your ear drums.

If only he had listened to you, then the two of you wouldn’t be in this mess— you wouldn’t be stranded on some unknown, barren planet deep in the outer rim.

Quick to point a finger, this was entirely Poe Dameron’s doing.

This was all his fucking fault.

“Relax, darling,” Poe assures nonchalantly. You roll your eyes at his endearment, darling. Bastard. Smiles cockily like one too. “Nearest Resistance outpost received our distress signal along with coordinates ’fore we got shot down. At this rate, rescue should be coming in by the next morning.”

You bite your tongue hard, maintaining a steely, scathing gaze at the flickering embers before you. That’s at least twelve hours. Twelve miserable hours with Poe, the very last man you’d want to be stuck with.

Maker, what did you do in your past life to deserve this punishment?

“I’m sure you’ll be perfectly fine sleeping here in the meantime. Think of this as a vacation of sorts. An overnight camping trip. You always did mention wanting to get out of D’Qar for a tiny bit.”

By here, Poe meant the rocky cavern serving as your shelter for the night. Thankfully, he managed to do something correctly, and that was igniting a fire. The sun was dipping behind the horizon at a quickened pace; you could already feel the sharp nip of the wind swirling in the air.

Great. Earlier, you had narrowly avoided dying in a ball of fire. Now, you’re faced with the threat of hypothermia.

Two extremes. Funny how the universe works at times.

“So, are you just gonna give me the silent treatment or what?”

Never mind that. Freezing to death sounded much more appealing than having Poe talk your ear off.

It pisses you off how he’s seemingly amused by the situation. Acting as if he didn’t get your ship shot down, almost killing you in an attempt to prove a point. The only thing Poe confirmed at that moment was how incredibly reckless and arrogant he could be. That, plus you realized how little he cares about your well-being, seeing he was ready to risk your life along with his.

“C’mon, lighten up, Black Two,” Poe spurs as he sits cross-legged on the coarse ground beside you. “At least we made it out alive.”

You recoil at Poe’s sudden nearness, tugging the emergency blanket draped over your body closer. Lucky for you both, you escaped the fiery wreckage with a couple of minor injuries. Some scrapes and bruises. He’s got a busted lip, small cuts along his cheek, and the bridge of his nose.

On the other hand, you were nursing a swollen ankle that was probably more of a sprain than not. Add to that a nasty gash on your forehead and a deep cut to the side. But hey, things could have been much worse.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay. There, there’s your apology,” he offers tartly. “And you can stop with the poutiness now. It doesn’t suit your face, darling.”

Turning to meet Poe’s gaze, you scoff at him. “Seriously? You honestly think saying “I’m sorry” after the shit you pulled up there will magically fix things?”

“Well, it’s a start. No need to get all snippy at me. Case you haven’t noticed, I’m stuck on this lame fucking planet too.”

“Imagine how I feel being stuck with you, jack-ass,” you snark with all the bitterness in your tone.

Poe pauses, then narrows his eyes. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I’m sick and tired of you, Dameron. Always so damn egotistic and condescending. It’s astounding how you made it this far into the war still in one piece.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault those tie-fighters ambushed us out of nowhere, alright? I had it all under control and could have really used your help. But no— instead, you wouldn’t stop bitching about high-tailing outta there. We only had enough fuel for one more jump!”

“And? Being stranded in space and waiting for help makes a shit ton of sense versus going against ten fucking tie-fighters shooting at us all at once.”

Poe huffs out a breath, shaking his head. “If we would have gone with your plan, it would mean aborting the mission and coming back to base empty-handed.”

“I fail to see where you find fault in that, considering what we were up against. But whatever— thanks for nearly getting me killed, by the way. I have nothing else to say to you.”

A pained hiss passes from your clenched teeth as you push yourself back up to your feet. You stagger several yards towards the entrance of the cave, furthering yourself from the warmth of the fire. Cold be damned, you need to get far and away from him. Fast. It’s as if Poe’s very existence repels you. Drives you into a spiraling madness, and it’s no wonder that you hate his guts.

You hate Poe Dameron.

Loathe, despised, detest, and abhor.

Call it whatever the fuck you want, but no word would be enough to describe the amount of resentment you had for him.

This isn’t the first time Poe has gotten under your skin, and it certainly won’t be the last.

Too bad he’s the Resistance’s Golden Boy. Untouchable and could never do wrong. His actions today would be seen as heroic. A brave, brazen move. And if that isn’t the case, then the least Leia would do is give him a mere slap on the wrist and ground him for a day or two.

No harsh punishment for the fleet’s best fighter pilot. Not for Poe. Never for him.

The fate of the galaxy relies on people like him.

What a shame.

What a damn, fucking shame.

“Two.”

Your thoughts are derailed when Poe intones your callsign, cutting through the vast silence with what could be mistaken as sincerity. The urge to snap at him for disturbing your respite is there, but the energy to actually do it has all been depleted.

You’re tired. Exhausted— so fucking exhausted of him that you wanted nothing more than to be left alone in the peace. Why couldn’t he allow you that?

“Come back inside. It’s getting cold out here,” Poe coaxes softly.

You dismiss him with a wave of your hand. Even without checking, you��re well aware that he’s standing there behind you, waiting.

“Kriff, can you stop being stubborn and talk to me for just five seconds?”

Poe doesn’t relent. He never does. He always has to have the last word, the last laugh, everything.

And he’s only this way when he’s with you, for reasons perhaps you may never know.

A heavy sigh fills the empty pause. You barely register the blanket settling across your shoulders until Poe softly calls out your name. Not your callsign like he normally does. But your name. And it flees from his lips in a low whisper, void of any spite or sourness. You’re not used to it— the softness in his voice, the quiet calmness that soon follows.

For a moment, you think there is sincerity this time.

Poe appears in your field of vision, and you swallow thickly. Hate him all you want, but you can never deny how handsome he is. Even you have shamefully indulged a glance at him here and there around the base.

There’s a reason why everyone, at some point or another, has fancied Poe. Bronzed skin, dark café eyes, a smile that’s brighter than the Tatooine suns. If looks could bring the First Order down alone, Commander Dameron would have already forced them to their knees.

“You’re bleeding,” he observes, thick brows knitting in worry. Your gaze shifts from the golden cast on Poe’s face to the laceration on your hip that you’d crudely bandaged up earlier. Blood soaks through your tee, trickling down and staining the earth below. He had previously offered to help you, although you were too angry to allow him. Even if it hurts like a bitch. “I promise to shut up for the rest of the night if you let me patch that up correctly.”

You chuckle mirthfully. “For the rest of the night? Hmm, I don’t know. That seems quite a far-fetched feat for you, Dameron.”

“Try me,” Poe adds with a small smile, and there’s something in the way he looks at you. Something so gentle, sweet. Your eyes flicker back to his, and fuck— Poe is beautiful in this gleaming light.

You mentally shove that final thought into the farthest depths of your head.

“Fine,” you agree slowly. “But if I hear a single peep out of you, I’m tossing you into the fire.”

Poe smirks, nodding. “Copy that.”

You almost tossed him into the fire.

Almost.

Impressively, Poe did keep his mouth close for the first ten minutes or so. He had you lying on your back, cushioned by his jacket spread on the harsh floor. You stared at the stony overhead above as he changed the wrappings on your side with fresh bacta pads from the emergency kit he recovered at the crash site.

Everything was going pretty well. That is until he cleared his throat.

“Please don’t react when I ask you this, but— can you take off your shirt for me?”

Your fist tightens into a ball for a few seconds until you force yourself to relax.

“Why? You can reach the wound fine like this. There’s no need for it to be off.”

Poe exhales a long, weary breath. “Your shirt is getting in the way, Two. I can’t clean this thoroughly with it on; if I don’t, the bacta won’t be enough to stop an infection. Trust me, it’s not going to be pleasant if that happens.”

Your face heats up, and it’s not because of the makeshift fire nearby. The last thing you expected today is Poe seeing you in such an undressed state. Maker, this mission only keeps getting worse and worse, isn’t it?

“Don’t look anywhere you’re not supposed to, got it?” you warn him with a spitfire tone. “If I catch even the slightest glimpse, I will—”

“Yeah, yeah— you’ll toss me into the fire,” Poe finishes your threat as he untwists the bottle cap of the antiseptic solution. “Shirt off, I’ll be quick. Don’t have to worry about me sneaking a peek, darling.”

You strip off your tee with a grunt, Poe coming to assist when he notices you struggling to get it over your head. The airy chill bites at your bare skin instantly. Clad in only a bra, you begin to shiver slightly, arms coming up to shield the upper half of your body from both the stiff breeze and Poe’s view.

Strangely, you aren’t apprehensive about him going against his word. Poe could be an asshole, sure. But he’s not the type to disrespect in that regard. The most you can expect from him is the incessant teasing and flirting— all lighthearted, harmless, and fun (for him, at least).

You haven’t been on the receiving end of it. Not for a while now, no. You remember the time Poe wasn’t a difficult man to deal with. It had been so long ago that you’d forgotten what that was like. Having him around and not wanting to immediately leave his presence. It’s quite hard to believe that such a time had ever existed.

You don’t know what went wrong, why things are the way they are now.

You wonder if it’s too late to fix this. If there’s anything left to salvage when you’re grasping onto a fraying thread. You want things to change, desperately so. But it’s all up to him. It’s all up to Poe.

Poe. His hands are on your body, warm and soft. Gentle in the way he moves them as he mends your injury.

He touches you carefully like you’re made out of glass— fragile and delicate— and you try disregarding the tingling buzz in your veins. How he bites the corner of his bottom lip in concentration, his stray dark locks sweeping against his forehead as he leans in closer. Close enough that his hot breath fans over your skin, and it’s electrifying.

There’s a fleeting moment of you wanting to seek out more. Chasing something that you would not dare to ask. Something that you’re certain would never happen.

Not with Poe.

No— Not here. Not now. Not ever.

“Sorry, again,” you hear Poe say softly as deft fingers secure the new wrapping over your wound. “I-I didn’t mean to hurt you back there. It was fucking stupid of me to even try, and look what happened. I should have listened to you and—”

He stops for a beat and quietly hands you your t-shirt to put back on. There’s a shift in Poe’s demeanor. Gone was his haughty, overly narcissistic self, that unbearable side of him that you’ve known for so long.

This Poe, however— this is all new. Caring, compassionate. Soft and gentle. It’s all new to you. Different and unrecognizable. As unfamiliar as this planet is to you.

Where has this version of Poe been hiding? Because for once, he’s not insufferable.

“I know you don’t like me. I know that once we’re back on D’Qar, you’re going to chew me out in front of the General, and I deserve it,” he continues, guiding you to sit up. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. But what I’m hoping for right now is for you to understand how sorry I am for taking things too far. It wasn’t my intention to put you in harm’s way. It never is.”

A light crackling noise pierces the stillness of the air. The ember glow from the flickering flames dances over Poe’s remorseful features. He regards you with a tender expression, those doe-brown irises of his make your heart thump quicker in your chest.

Surprisingly, you don’t fend off the smile slowly creeping its way across your face. “Now what? Are we calling a truce?”

“I’ll give you a trail mix bar if we do,” Poe beams, pulling out the snack from his jacket pocket and handing it to you. “A peace offering.”

With a half-serious glare, you snatch the trail mix away from him, grumbling, “Were you going to hide this from me the whole time?”

“No, of course not. I was planning on sharing one with you.”

Your brow furrows. “One?”

“Yeah, one,” Poe confirms, taking out a second bar and waving it in the air. “I brought along two just in case.”

“In case we get stranded on a deserted wasteland?”

Laughter bubbles out of him. “In case you and I get hungry during the flight.”

“Well, uh— thanks,” you reply briskly as you tear open the wrapper with Poe mirroring your action.

“See, I’m not all that bad,” he grins broadly, and there’s more truth to the statement than you care to admit.

God, you’re unsure whether you have a concussion or you’re losing your mind. Because one moment, you’re tearing Poe a new one, and the next, he’s sending a flurry of butterflies to the pit of your stomach. You’re confused as hell, nerves a jumbled mess, and you still can’t shake off the feeling of his hands on you— touching you.

Perhaps, it’s neither. Maybe it’s merely you beginning to hate him less.

Impossible, you briefly muse. But what if it isn’t?

“So… truce?” Poe asks whilst chewing, holding out his free hand to you. “Let’s turn a new leaf starting tonight. Look, I like you, Two. I really like you. I guess that’s also why I’ve been tough on you lately.”

Poe mumbles that last bit quickly, and you nearly choke on the bite you’ve taken. Even he’s caught by surprise with his own admission, his eyes widening in disbelief. But before you could question him on that further, he skips around the topic and continues.

“I swear, all the petty arguments end today. I don’t wanna butt heads with you anymore. So, what do you say? Truce?”

You let out a drawn-out sigh, your gaze locking on the hopeful gleam in those big brown eyes of his. He’s like a puppy. Say no, and it’s almost as bad as accidentally kicking it in the face. It wouldn’t hurt to give Poe another chance, right? It shouldn’t. And you pray to whatever higher power there is (or isn’t) that doing this wouldn’t turn out to be a big mistake.

“Okay,” you accept and shake Poe’s hand, not missing the growing curve on his lips. “Truce. No more bullshit, Dameron, or that’s it. I’m out.”

“No more bullshit, scout’s honor,” he upholds. “Now that’s out of the way…”

Oh hell. What now?

“Remember, we declared a truce. No backsies.”

You cross your arms against your chest. “Dameron, what are you talking about—”

“This planet’s atmosphere is shit, okay? Even with the fire here, it’s cold, and we only have one blanket.”

“Are you proposing that we—”

“Sleep together,” Poe declares rather enthusiastically. “Not in that way, obviously. I mean, sleep next to each other. Y’know, to conserve body heat? Keep ourselves as warm and cozy as possible.”

An exasperated groan escapes you. With the way you were rolling your eyes hard, it’s a good thing that it didn’t trigger an aneurysm. “Fucking— fine. You can sleep next to me. But hog the blanket from me, and I will—”

“Don’t have to remind me. Into the fire pit I shall go,” Poe smirks when you nod. “Consider yourself lucky, sweetheart. You’re guaranteed a restful slumber tonight despite the circumstances.”

“And how are you so sure of that?”

“Simple,” he answers, almost braggingly. “I don’t snore.”

You couldn’t come up with a snarky response to that. In fact, you couldn’t come up with any type of response. You’re too absorbed by the thought of Poe snuggling against you, something that would have really peeved you if it had been brought up an hour ago.

And Poe picks up on it, your speechlessness. Your glassy eyes, how your jaw slightly drops as if you had just heard the most absurd joke out of him. But you don’t flat-out deny his suggestion. You don’t have it in you to tell him to fuck off. Nor that the fire is more than enough to keep warm.

Embarrassingly, you wanted it. To feel Poe’s body beside you, surrounded by his radiating warmth. It’s been far too long since you’ve shared a bed with another man. Although this is technically not the same thing, you’re so goddamn touch-starved that sleeping next to Poe isn’t the most awful idea in the world.

Instead, it’s all you could think of— it’s all you need right now.

Fuck, you’re losing your sanity. That’s what it is. You’ve gone crazy after realizing that in less than a day, you’ve gone from hating Poe with every fiber of your being to craving… Well, him.

And you don’t know how to make of it. Whether or not you’ll make it.

Rescue would be coming soon. After dawn, if Poe’s estimations are correct. You could only hope that you’re able to survive through the night to be saved.

Hours have passed, and from what you can see, it’s still dark outside.

You lie restlessly on the rugged terrain in silence. The frigid air sweeping into the cavern leaves you shuddering, and you pull the blanket high under your chin. It’s silent for two or three beats, save for the snap and crackle of the blaze.

Then there’s rustling at your side. Glancing over, you find Poe on his back, one hand behind his head as he lets out a yawn.

“Can’t sleep?” You manage, copying his position so that you’re both staring aimlessly into nothing. “Or are you afraid I might catch you lying about not being a snorer?”

A chuckle rumbles out of Poe. “Hey, I truly don’t snore. If you want, I can provide a list of people that can attest to this.”

“Oh, no, thank you,” you rebuff. “I would assume that list is long, and frankly, I don’t have the patience to go through each name there.”

“Eh, between you and me, it’s really not that long. To be honest, my dick is probably longer—”

“Okaaay, that is TMI, Dameron. Watch it.” You playfully swat at his chest, choking back an incredulous chortle. “But your list being short is kinda hard to believe when there’s all that gossip about you being quite the fuckboy.”

Poe shifts to lie on his side, now facing you. “And you believe them? Those gossips about me?”

Shrugging, you do the same, and you’re suddenly made aware of how close he is to you. “Why? Are they not true?”

“I may flirt like there’s no tomorrow, but the truth is— I haven’t had sex in… months?”

You raise a brow, stunned. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he affirms flatly. “I don’t get a lot of free time, you know? Leia’s been assigning me on missions one after the other. Then there’s those briefings upon my return plus strategy meetings, practice drills, blah blah blah... And when I’m finally done for the day, I barely have the energy to drag myself to the ‘fresher for a shower, let alone fuck someone’s brains out.”

“Huh, guess I was wrong about you,” you admit ruefully. “Sorry.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Poe smiles. He’s quiet as you observe him for a moment, averting his gaze before speaking again. “Not to mention, there’s this girl…”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, we haven’t been on the best of terms. She uh— actually despises me, I’m pretty sure.”

Could he be…? No. He couldn’t. It couldn’t be.

“She despises you?” You gasp in feign astonishment. “I mean, what’s there not to like?”

Poe cracks a breathy laugh at your sarcasm. “Exactly. But really, though— I was a total ass to her. Always picked fights with her over the stupidest shit, and I did it to push her away. Took a while to realize it, but I was falling for her. I still am, and I can’t have that. Not with what’s going on right now.”

“And did it work? Did it stop you from falling any further?”

He shakes his head, his voice a whisper now. “No. It didn’t. It didn’t do a damn thing. Every argument made me want her even more. Mostly because I find it hot and sexy when she gets super mad at me.”

“Gross.” You gently shove Poe’s shoulder, and he catches your hand as you begin to pull away. He holds it loosely at first, allowing you to freely slip out of his grasp should you choose to do so.

You don’t.

You remain still. Unmoving. It’s only Poe who moves after a passing breath, fingers slowly entwining with yours, and you let him. You let him, despite how intimate the gesture is. You aren’t his lover. Hell, you’re barely even friends. The term “enemies” no longer fits for some reason. You couldn’t call yourselves that. Not anymore. Not after his vague confession to you earlier.

“Before, when you said you really liked me, what did you mean by that?”

Your inquiry is met with a faint hum in response. A squeeze to your hand, then Poe releases it. He props himself on an elbow, his eyes melting into yours, and you lose yourself in those dark, endless pools. “You know what it means.”

“Poe—”

“— Can I kiss you?”

The world around you comes to an abrupt standstill. Your lips part to say the first thing your mind could think of, yet there is none.

Poe senses your hesitation. But when he starts to retreat, pretending he never said anything, you say his name in such a tenderness you’ve never done before.

“Yes,” was your answer. A small and straightforward yes— a word that has been teetering on the edge of your tongue as soon as Poe had asked.

Unknowingly, he’d spark a smoldering fire from deep within. The longer he lingers around you, the more it swells into an inferno, its hotness spreading like wildfire throughout your body.

Poe captures your lips in what was initially a chaste kiss, his hand tilting your chin upwards as your eyelids flutter shut. He moves slowly, slower than you anticipated, but it was sweet nonetheless. He kisses you as if time is endless, only stopping when you grab a fistful of his tee and swiftly tug him to settle between your legs.

“Eager, are we?” Poe simpers, watching as you caress the pads of your fingertips along his stubbled cheek.

“I can ask you the same thing,” you cheekily quip when you feel the bulge of his pants on your thigh. “Doesn’t take that much to get you hard, huh?”

“Only ’cause I’m with you, baby.” He shoots you an enticing wink, and heat rushes up to your face and down your core.

You’ve never seen Poe up close like this. Never have you noticed the kind warmth of his eyes. The way they glimmer in the low light reminds you of stars, all dazzling and bright, so full of life even in the midst of a war.

You don’t say it out loud; you’re too proud to admit it. But you could easily get lost while gazing into those eyes.

“A-Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Poe rasps, brows drawing together. “We don’t have to, and I don’t wanna fuck this up right after agreeing to start over and make it all weird—”

You cut Poe’s rambling short by crashing your lips against his, tangling your fingers in the mess of curls on his head. He responds with equal fervor. A fiery passion seeps into the kiss. Evident by the way his tongue slips past your lips, teasing and tasting until he takes the air out of your lungs.

A soft moan breaks free when Poe presses hot, open-mouth kisses down your throat, the sounds of your ragged breaths beating against your ears. “Off,” he directs impatiently, his hands already lifting the hem of your tee.

You’re quick to shed it off for him, snaking a hand to your back to unclasp your bra immediately after. Goosebumps engulf your entire body but no longer is it from the cold. Rather, it’s from the way Poe’s blackened eyes rake over your bareness, setting every inch of you alight in a blistering blaze.

“Like what you see, Dameron?”

Poe doesn’t reply right away. You follow his tipping gaze downwards to your bandaged wound. The curl of his lips falters ever so slightly— weighted guilt is now written all over his face, the sight of it heavy on your heart.

“It’s okay. I’m okay. Doesn’t hurt that much anymore,” you soothe, brushing your fingers along the nape of his neck. “Just… be gentle for now, I guess. We can do the rough stuff some other time.”

A charming grin slowly splits Poe’s face, and the flurry in your stomach intensifies. “You’re hoping for a next time, sweetheart?”

You roll your eyes but find yourself unable to retract the statement. Yes, it had been a slip of the tongue, yet it isn’t the furthest thing from the truth.

“I’m hoping for a next time if this goes well,” you clarify as Poe kneels back on his haunches.

The blanket you were tucked underneath slides off his back, exposing you both to the chill of the night. Neither of you make an attempt to pull it up over your bodies. The proximity warded the coldness away.

“Oh, well, in that case, I gotta make sure this will be more than just “well” for you.”

Snorting, you gesture up and down at him. “Getting rid of your clothes would be a great start, don’t ya think?”

“You want me to strip for you, darling? All you had to do was ask nicely.”

Just as you were about to let out a scoff, a breath hitches in your throat. Poe peels away his shirt in one fluid movement, revealing his toned chest, sharp collarbones, and firm abs. You stare without blinking, unabashed. Your mouth goes dry as you graze over the soft and hard planes of his olive skin and muscles.

“Like what you see, Two?” Poe echoes your earlier words with a coy smile.

Your attention drifts down to the trail of hair disappearing into the waistband of his tented trousers. Dizzy and dazed, you wet your lips, and Poe fortunately takes the hint, his eyes never leaving yours as he proceeds to unfasten his pants. Tight black boxers hug his ample hips, the thick outline of his cock straining against the thin fabric of it.

Stars. You really do like what you see.

“I need you, Poe,” you croon, squirming when Poe bends down and cages you in his strong arms. “I need to feel you.”

“Need me, yeah?” Don’t worry, I got you, baby. I got you.”

You arch your back up to him, seeking relief by grinding into his throbbing erection. Doing so elicits a low groan from Poe, whose lips began to light a trail of fire along the valley of your breasts.

Needy moans fill his ears as Poe nips, sucks, and bites at one tender mound while a hand squeezes and kneads the other. He rolls a nipple between his thumb and index finger, sending a fresh wave of arousal coasting through you.

“Prettiest pair of tits I’ve ever seen.” Poe husks, his voice rich, smokey, and smooth. His mouth then descends to your stomach, planting hot kisses all the way down to your bottoms. “Can’t wait to see the rest of you.”

“Hmm… Only see?” You tease with a small quirk on your lips.

He cocks a brow at you, his deft fingers unbuttoning your pants before sliding them down your legs. “Why? You want me to touch you, baby? Want me to taste what’s down here?”

Poe traces your slit through your soaked underwear, purposefully adding only the slightest bit of pressure when he reaches your clit. A moan ripples through the air as he circles it lazily, tantalizingly.

“Look at you, already so wet for me. You want me so badly, huh?”

Keening and mewling at his graveled taunt, the desperation practically drips from you. You’re bucking your lower half towards him without restraint, and he’s flashing you the most shit-eating grin imaginable.

“Fuck. Poe, please… I need—” Your voice catches in your throat. You suck in a gasping breath, completely overwhelmed by the rough scratching of Poe’s five o’clock shadow on your inner thigh.

A sole press of his lips to your clothed pussy, he effortlessly rids your panties, tossing them somewhere behind him. He then dives right back into your sex, spreading your legs wide, and for a split second, he glances up with this look akin to a parched man who finds an oasis in you.

And you’d never forget it. Even if you wanted to— even if you decide that this would just be a one-time thing, you could never forget this entangled moment with him— with Poe.

Poe, whose dilated pupils brimming with lust you couldn’t— wouldn’t— forget. Nor his shallow, shaky exhale as he draws nearer, his steady grip on your hips tightening, digging.

He drags you closer to his mouth and whispers a low, sultry remark. Something along the lines of your pussy smelling so sweet, though you’re not entirely sure of it. You couldn’t be, not when your heartbeat is pounding furiously in your ears. You couldn’t focus on anything other than his nose nudging against your clit, his tongue delving its way inside you, and it has you seeing quite literal stars—

— then, less than a beat later, a whole fucking supernova.

Two fingers much thicker than your own slowly stretch you open. Poe’s name comes out of you as a trembling plea, and the cocky bastard finds amusement in your reaction. He peers at you through thick lashes, his knuckle-deep, beckoning digits working your cunt, tongue flicking and swirling around your swollen clit.

Tugging at his hair harshly, you writhe under Poe’s ministrations, and it forces him to adjust his hold on you. He has your hips roughly pinned down, eating you out vigorously until your toes curl and your legs shake in pure ecstasy.

Poe brings you to climax faster than anyone has ever had. Including yourself. It has your body quivering beneath him uncontrollably, firing up white jolts of pleasure into every nerve ending within you. Your vision is hazy and unfocused, muscles weak and feeble. The only movement you have enough strength to do is reach down to meekly tap on Poe’s arm as he laps at your dripping pussy.

“You enjoy yourself, sweetheart?” he says, voice an octave lower yet full of smugness. “Seems like you did.”

You hum softly, taking in how Poe looks kneeling between your thighs. Desire pools in your belly again as your heavy-lidded eyes rake over his face appreciatively. His chin glistens with your juices. He darts his tongue out to lick his reddened lips, and you have to swallow a moan as he lifts his fingers— the very same fingers that fucked you to the point where you swear you’d pass out— up to his mouth and sucks them clean. Poe makes a show of it, too, closing his eyes in delight and groaning at the taste.

And you wonder what he exactly thinks of it— how divine you taste. Does he think you’re sweet on your tongue? Tangy? You don’t need to ask if he liked it, of course. The cock twitching in his garments tells you all that you need to know. And fuck, if Poe is that good with merely his hands and his mouth, you could only imagine how mind-blowing it might be once he’s inside of you.

Pushing yourself to sit up, you ignore the spark of pain shooting up your side. Poe quickly notices your discomfort and gently urges you to lay back down, looming over you. “But I wanna—”

He silences you with a searing kiss, tasting your own essence lingering on his tongue as it glides against yours. You palm Poe through his boxers and revel at how stiff and big he is. You wish that he would let you take care of him the way he took care of you.

“Shhh, don’t worry about it. It’s okay,” Poe mumbles breathlessly as your fingers dip under the edge of the final article of clothing separating the two of you. “Next time, baby. I promise. I’ll let you suck on my dick once we’re back home. Until then, I’m gonna make sure that you stay warm all night long…”

Poe hungrily devours your mouth once more, helping you pull his underwear the rest of the way off. You tear yourself away from the kiss and drag your eager gaze down to the rigid length poking at your hip. You had no doubt that his cock would be as gorgeous as the rest of him, but it was much, much more than what you pictured in your mind.

Thick, long, with a delicious slight curve to it. Your mouth instinctively waters at the sight. You know it would be reaching places deep in you that haven’t been touched in so long. It’ll leave you a soreness lasting for one or two days, maybe even more if he really does fuck like a god, or so the gossips would have it. You don’t doubt that either— you wholeheartedly believe in it already.

A gasp erupts from Poe’s throat when you seize his erection, your fingers barely closing around the girthiness of him. He’s hot and heavy in your palm, and you stroke him nice and slow, smearing the slick precum leaking from the tip all over his veiny shaft.

Nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck, you bask in the pretty noises Poe makes right under your ear. You jerk him faster now. Your fist constricts around him as he pants heavily into your skin, reducing the always-headstrong and mouthy Poe Dameron into a mess of grunts and moans.

And you like it. You like seeing him this way— absolutely wrecked by the touch of your hand.

“S-Stop, stop,” he chokes out, covering your hand with his own and abruptly stilling your actions. “You’re gonna make me come if you keep it up. Gotta feel that pretty pussy of yours before that happens. Fuckin’ need to be inside you first, baby.”

Poe sucks at your pulse point, and you wordlessly nod through the haze of euphoria. The rise and fall of your chest hasten as you watch him grip his member and glide it along your drenched folds, coating himself with your shining wetness. You roughly claw your fingernails on his back and roll your hips. The blunt head of his cock slips upwards, crashing into your clit, and you have to forcefully bite down on your lip to stifle a scream.

“Don’t hold back those sounds, beautiful. You don’t have to worry about being heard. It’s only me here. It’s only us.”

“No more teasing. Please, Poe. Please…” you beg and beg, glossy eyes connecting with his hooded ones. Though the remnants of your high have ebbed away, you’re still tense— wound up like a tight little spring. The knot in your stomach waits to be uncoiled. An unraveling not possible without the feeling of him moving in and out of you. “Just fuck me, baby. Get in me now and fuck me, Poe. Make me feel good.”

There’s a flicker of something carnal crossing Poe’s face, and you catch it for a flitting second until you follow his lust-clouded gaze as it falls to the hand wrapped around the base of his cock. He’s leaned in close to you, his warm breath tickling your heated skin as he lines himself up with your entrance. Your pulse beats in your temples; beads of sweat pebble your forehead, and the blood in your veins simmer hot at him finally pushing in, leaving you gasping for air.

“S-shit…” Poe growls, slowly sinking into your cunt. It’s a burning stretch as he enters, the tight wet heat of your walls fluttering to accommodate the thickness of him. You hike your leg around his waist, shifting the angle, and he plunges in even deeper, fully bottoming out. “Fuck— baby, you’re squeezing me so hard. God, your pussy feels fucking amazing around my dick. G-gimme a sec, sweetheart. I-I need a sec— just… hang on…”

Breathing harshly through his nose, Poe strains to maintain some semblance of control, jaw setting taut and eyes screwing shut as he holds you still. His calloused fingers are digging into the flesh of your hips, marking you with bruises purple and blue.

You clench around him even though you’re trying your damndest best not to. You want to last—want him to last, but you couldn’t help it. Never have you had a cock like his buried in you. It’s almost laughable how cockdrunk you are even when he hasn’t done much except touch the deepest depths of your pussy.

“You alright, darling?” Poe checks, running his thumb gently across your cheek. His voice is much softer, much more intimate. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

“No. Quite the opposite, actually,” you purr as you crane your neck to kiss him languidly, feeling his smile.

Soon, you’re rocking your pelvis shallowly into Poe, encouraging him to move. He lets out a broken moan at the sensation. He hooks his arm under your leg to grant himself better leverage, dropping his head to your shoulder, and begins thrusting in and out, then in and out.

Before requesting him to be gentle, you’d expect Poe— and yes, you’ve thought about what he was like in the sack, mainly because everyone did— to be frantic, brutal, and punishing. Mercilessly fuck you to a reckless oblivion. The bunk-breaking type of romp that would have immensely pissed off those living in proximity to your quarters.

This isn’t that. This isn’t what you had imagined, not for the very first time, at least. Poe’s pounding into you at a steady and smooth pace. It’s tender and gentle and slow, hitting all the right spots and a part of you believes that this is more than just a simple fuck for him. This is him showing that he does care about you. That he’s sorry for the constant fights and regrets being an asshole to you, for hurting you.

This is genuine— meant to be something much more profound. To convince you that you’re worth more to him than he had led you to think.

Once again, your assumptions about him have been proven wrong. Poe truly isn’t the man you thought you had all figured out.

And you start believing in it. You accept it from the way Poe holds you close, his chest flushed against yours as he whispers sweet praises into the shell of your ear. He’s gazing down at you with this dreamy, yearning look on his face, the kind that makes your heart swell and your cunt grips him like a vice. His soft groans blend harmoniously with your pitchy moans, and they meld with the wet sounds of skin on skin, echoing all throughout.

It’s beautiful. It’s obscene. Sensual, steamy, and provocative. You wanted more, needed more direly. You’re so close, dangerously teetering on the brink of another shattering orgasm. Poe is determined to push you over the edge a second time, staving off his own release until you reach yours.

Your hands rove down Poe’s perspiring back, fingers lightly dancing along his spine before cupping the generous curves of his ass. A smirk tugs at Poe’s at the corner of his lips when you knead the fleshy cheeks into your palms possessively. You don’t have to tell him how much you love his derriere. You make no effort to hide your appreciation as you grope and massage him, catching his mouth in a feverish kiss that has your senses reeling.

“F-Fuck, Poe—I’m co- I’m coming…”

The heels of your feet replace your wandering hands, digging into Poe’s ass and urging him to fuck you faster, harder, deeper. And he complies so easily, hips snapping at a more frenzied pace as he brings his fingers down to rub at your clit. You toss your head back, quickly losing yourself to the overwhelming friction dragging against your slick walls, the ache in your core growing and spreading and burning. A fire scorching hot on the verge of being extinguished.

And when it does— when you fall apart at last— you dissolve into an all-consuming crescendo of pleasure. The pressure that has been building and building and building with each heavy slam of his cock suddenly snaps, triggering shockwaves to burst outwards.

At that moment, Poe is all that exists in the world. Nothing else mattered. Nothing but his touch, his scent, his voice. You barely realize how he’s riding out your climax for as long as he could, suppressing his desire to let go just to take in the way you crumble underneath him. For him.

You grow limp, boneless, and sate as the blissful quakes start to subside, your velvet walls pulsing and clamping down on Poe, whose control has now wholly slipped away.

“Where…shit— W-Where do you want it?” Poe sputters out, balls smacking against your pussy as his rhythm becomes messy, sloppy, and erratic. “W-Where?”

“Inside,” you croak before a strangled whimper tears from your throat at his fervent thrusts. “Come in me, Poe. It’s okay, do it, baby. I want you to come inside me—”

With one final piercing shove, Poe’s body goes rigid, spilling thick hot ropes of his cum deep inside you. You feel the warmth of it gushing into your spasming sex as you milk him dry and he’s stuttering forward, slowly pushing his seed as far as he can. His face contorts, eyes squeezing tightly shut and mouth slacking open to set free a wanton moan in the shape of your name.

The two of you are breathless. Spent, sticky, and sweaty as you regain steady heart rates and the oxygen in your lungs. Poe eventually pulls out his softening member and slumps to the side, careful not to crush you below. You whine at the loss of him— at the loss of his fullness that leaves you hollow and raw.

A warm mixture of his release and your juices dribbles out of you, cooling on your inner thighs. You don’t have it in you to wipe yourself up, and when Poe tries to after a minute, you wrap your arms around his neck and lock him in an embrace.

“Don’t,” you quietly plead with a soft kiss on his lips. “S’alright, just… stay.”

And stay, Poe does. He spoons you from behind, an arm draped over your waist while his legs tangled with yours. Poe nestles his face into your damp hair, his breath tickling the back of your neck as you hold his hand and twine your fingers together.

“Didn’t peg you as a cuddler, Two,” he murmurs dozily. “I like it.”

“Gotta preserve the heat, right?” You return cheekily, snuggling deeper into him as his warmth envelopes you.

This is nice, you muse. This feels nice.

You suppose that you like it, too.

Exhaustion washes over you. The stillness of the cavern, the crackling of the flames, and the calming sound of Poe’s exhales all lull you to sleep. You don’t know how long you’ll have until the sun rises and it’s daylight outside. Nor do you have any clue on what awaits you and him other than your rescue.

You’re overthinking everything again.

As if he could hear it happening, Poe tightens his arm around you, his nose grazing along the back of your shoulder before pecking a light kiss there.

“Sleep, sweetheart. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

This time, you listen.

And despite the lack of a comfy bed, you drift into the most peaceful sleep you’ve had in a while with Poe by your side.

—

taglist will be in a reblog. let me know if you’d like to be added/removed!

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron fanfic #poe dameron x you #poe dameron imagine #oscar isaac #oscar isaac x reader

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yongislong · 1 year

Text

clingy partner + dreamies.

genre: fluff, nonidol!dreamies with a clingy partner and vice versa... ish?

note: tysm anon! im sorry this took so long, i've been so busy TT not proofread pls... b kind </3 lol

mark... would actually melt. likes being adored in a way thats different from the usual praise and skinship he receives from the people around him. he gives you a certain ability to be able to be clingy in ways others can't if that makes sense? doesn't have a preference on when you're clingy with him, he just loves that you hang onto him constantly. always encourages you to love up on him, especially if people make backhanded comments and he sees you slowly pulling away?? he hates that sm! would honestly want his own space sometimes because he's always busy, but never ever makes you feel like you're a burden or a chore

renjun... i don't know if he would like it too much! everyone adores him all the time and yes having a partner is different than him hanging out with the neos but i honestly think he just likes everything to be private and pretty basic. that's not to say he doesn't like you being clingy or won't be clingy to you back, he just prefers to have you in private. likes it when he senses you need him and he feels very wanted in a sense that you always seem to want to touch him and follow him around. usually doesn't mind it because you're not invasive about it. sets healthy boundaries though!

jeno... loves it. oh my god i feel like he would want a clingy parter. he's on the quieter side so someone to just sit with him and wrap themselves around him like a koala while he just goes on about his day just, sounds so nice and appealing?? loves it when you follow him around like a lost kitten... he pats you on the head as a reward each time, v wholesome overall! especially likes you being clingy in public because he lives and breathes to show you off like UGH and when you're not afraid to show the world how obsessed with him you are??? ugh! you sitting on his lap while he games?? feels as though he won at life

haechan... oh my god, its so hard to be clingy with him because he's already so clingy with you. he reminds me of those high school and university boys who like tease you sm but are always so sweet and look like a puppy and you can't help but... adore them?! and he thinks if you the same way. honestly if you're usually really clingy, he adores it regardless and you both are in your own lovey little world 90% of the time BUUT if you usually aren't and start being clingy with him out of the blue, oh he will never let you live it down

jaemin... takes it as an opportunity to baby you to the max!! if he had a partner i think, since his moods vary sm and he's more of an ambivert, he would want to gauge how clingy and lovey he would be to his partner whenever he would get into those moods, so when he sees you being clingy, he takes that as an open to be doting to you and he also finds himself getting into a cutesy mindset?? as well? really enjoys you in general and he's a pretty touchy person himself and i think he would especially be a fond of clinginess if he is in love with someone the way he loves you. a cuddler for sure

chenle... one of his favorite things about you hehe. likes to feel like a big man yknow, i've said this before LOL but its true!! i will say though he seems to me like the type of person who likes his alone time and personal space but does allow you to cling to him because... its YOU! and he has a very soft spot for you. but also, like renjun, makes it a point to communicate when he wants his own space. and he is very good at not making you feel bad about it, just offers different alternatives so he doesn't get like... overstimulated

jisung... is used to people being lovable and adoring but... this is so different like, you want to pepper his face with KISSES??? oh my gosh. doesn't mind you being clingy but never knows how to handle it especially in the beginning of you guys dating. learns your clingy habits and comes to adore the way you treat him when you lean towards a more doting mood like UGHHH and if you're shorter than him?? and he just looks down at you while you smile lovingly with your arms wrapped around him GAHHH. likes back hugs from you when you're extra clingy. he is obsessed with you and slowly becomes equally as clingy

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bethanydelleman · 6 months

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There’s a new book out called The Darcy Myth that says in the summary that P&P is actually a “horror novel” about how scary love is for women… I know the Bennet sisters’ situation is precarious but to call it a “horror novel” ? :P

Okay... so... ug.... did this woman even read Pride & Prejudice? Because from the news coverage I would say no. Let me highlight some passages from the article:

Darcy should be considered the main antagonist of the famous love story

Not Wickham? Not the man who runs off with literal teenage girls?

Darcy pays Wickham to marry Lydia, saving her reputation, and later tells Elizabeth, “I thought only of you” when acting. For Feder, this phrase is proof of the hero’s self-interest. Darcy condemns Lydia to a life with an amoral man, all so the Bennets don’t become so disreputable that he won’t be able to marry the woman he loves.

Um, sorry, but no. Darcy tried to get Lydia away FIRST, she refused, he respected Lydia's autonomy as a human being. Becoming brother-in-law to Wickham was probably worse for Darcy personally than Lydia being "ruined"

I found Feder’s exploration of “Pride and Prejudice”as a Gothic novel — rather than a comedy of manners — far more compelling than her critique of Darcy.

Wut? No. Not even a little bit, what? That is a different genre.

“Darcy helped codify the dominant expectation that potential romantic partners — especially heterosexual men — are not only still eligible but in fact more appealing when they play a little hard to get, even if playing hard to get involves cruelty, insults, expressions of disinterest, ruining your beloved sister’s chances of happiness, and other red flags,” she writes. Women spend their time, energy and emotions on men who, quite simply, are not worth their effort.

Okay, except ELIZABETH NEVER TRIES ANYTHING WITH DARCY. She just sits there and he falls in love with her. If she did put effort into any relationship it was with Wickham, who again, is presented as a massive red flag in the end. This line of argument is wild.

Yet, seeing the sheer number of times women pursue cruel men in pop culture laid out one after another — in Disney movies, Taylor Swift songs and much more — is affecting. Feder concludes convincingly that this cultural conviction harms women in the same way the patriarchal boundaries of the regency did. She writes: “If we zoom out, we see that the Darcy myth also helps to prop up and fortify a very Gothic, patriarchal universe that is, and always has been, scary for anyone who is not a very particular type of man. After all, if we are trained from childhood to invest ourselves in men who treat us poorly, aren’t we more likely to end up in abusive situations and under threat of assault?”

Okay, so this is a valid point, but it also is based on a misreading of Pride & Prejudice or is heavily influenced by adaptations. Darcy isn't cruel, he's snobby and somewhat rude but definitely NOT cruel. Wickham is exactly the type of man you want to avoid: charming until he isn't.

ALSO WHAT DISNEY PRINCE IS AN ASSHOLE??? @princesssarisa? Can you be offended at that one in my stead?

So... this book sounds like rage-bait insanity and I won't be reading it until proved otherwise. Putting it on the avoid shelf along with Secret Radical.

Last note: There is a valid point to be made that jerks or dark broody men have been romanticized, but Austen DOES NOT DO THAT. That is not an Austen thing. Use an actual problematic Gothic or Byronic hero.

#question response #this is nuts #the darcy myth #just looks like rage bait to me #the arguments are nonsensical #Now I'm going to have to fight this book on Reddit too #oh joy

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the-s1lly-corner · 6 months

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Can you do TADC x skeleton reader?

TADC cast x skeleton! Reader!

Skeleton characters my beloved

Love skeletons sm I wish there were more appealing characters in that category for me to add to my collection

Fr though imma work on art after this

Short since it's so sso cold in my room, I cannot warm up for the life of me and I'm in mobile

CAINE:

Teeth?

Teeth!

You guys click your teeth together and it makes everyone cringe thanks to the sound and what they imagine it feels like

Rmemeber we have nerves in our teeth, it's not just the roots! Imagine how it would feel if you clacked your teeth against someone else's!

He makes tons of skeleton puns

POMNI:

Is a little put off by seeing the bare bones of the brains mech suit/j

No but cartoony or not I think it would put her off because she would be all too aware of the "this is a person, this is a real breathing person" thing

Like sure she also understands it's your digital body, but seeing a skeleton next to a chesspiece and ribbon feels weird. It feels oddly familiar... does offer to help put you back together

RAGATHA:

HATES when you lose one of your limbs and leave it skittering about, trying to find the rest of you. Centipedes and skittering rouge limbs, that's what would do it for ragatha... bonus if you have a centipede crawling in your bones, be it as just your default or because one crawled into you at some point.. makes her weary to hug you when when gets that information..

But assuming you're bug free, shes more than willing to hang around you! Also offers to help put you together! Has probably guided your body back to your head after it got knocked off, saying it from having to blindly wander

JAX:

Similar to caine he makes a ton of jokes and puns. Has probably hit you with the bowling ball . You made the rolling pin sound effect

Has probably snagged your arm to scratch his back. Like he did to zooble.... maybe that's part of tje reason why zooble is sour all the time...

KINGER:

In an event where he needed to grab you and run, he may or may not have just

Popped your arm or hand off and bolted with it... probably makes a fair amount of distance before realizing the rest of you arent there

Despite what many may think, I dont think he would be bothered by a skeleton person, unless you're like. Hyper realistic for some reason, but considering the digital worlds style and kid friendliness I doubt you dont look cartoony! Actually kinda finds it cute, like those old cartoons he used to watch.. at least he thinks he used to watch.. you feel nostalgic somehow

ZOOBLE:

You guys exchange limbs/j

No but I feel like you guys would bond over not being fully "stable", ie you guys can be disassembled and broken apart with relative ease. You guys have each others backs when something threatens to break your bodies up. Be it Jax, or an IHA, you guys will try to protect each other in that regard... usually ends in you both falling apart

It sounds like clicking n clacking when you guys kiss

GANGLE:

Very similar to zooble, you guys are fragile. Gangle is ribbon, and you're just bone. You two are both prone to falling apart! You guys fuse together with gangle holding your bones together with her ribbon/j

But actually... I can see that as a funny side gag for "teamwork" for a IHA...

Sometimes her ribbons get stuck between the joints of your hands

#tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #digital circus x reader #caine x reader #pomni x reader #jax x reader #ragatha x reader #kinger x reader #zooble x reader #gangle x reader

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theoutcastrogue · 22 days

Text

[From a 2014 article by John Darnielle of the Mountain Goats. He's talking about how a random spam email ended up inspiring a part of his book Wolf in White Van. Later, in 2020, the album Getting Into Knives came out, and I think it inspired its artwork too.]

"It took years for me to be able to just reflexively delete spam, or filter it so that I never see it at all. I blame the spammers for this; the quality of their work took a sharp nosedive at some point. But during whatever period of the internet’s growth you’d call the early 2000s, it seemed like you’d still get some winners: things that had been typed up by a person, sent out to a bunch of email addresses they’d bought or rented for 5 or 10 bucks from the only guy who was ever going to make any money in this particular exchange. Most of them went directly, if manually, into the trash; but once in a while, there’d be one that seemed to earn, at the very least, the minute it’d take me to read it.

The one I’m remembering here was subject-lined SUPPLY OF KNIVES. [...] The subject line opened on an all-caps email that boasted, in ornate, antiquated English appealing to the reader’s more refined sensibilities, about the high quality of the knives on offer at an external website. You shouldn’t click on links in spam email. I live my life on the razor’s edge! I clicked the link.

I want to tell you about these knives: They were beautiful. They were weird. They had elaborate designs in the handles, moons or stars of wolf heads, and special grips, and a variety of points. They were made from metals whose pedigrees were described lovingly, and had been struck — smithed? wrought? — via processes I knew absolutely nothing about, but that sounded fantastic, difficult, arcane. It’s the joy of specialized language: When you’re an outsider to it, it can’t help but sound cool.

Of course this is the whole idea of any operation like this. SUPPLY OF KNIVES could well have been, and probably was, a company in Ohio who’d stumbled across an old warehouse full of knives, and knew enough about sales to describe these things in the most exotic terms they could find. I’m pretty immune to pitches: Who likes to feel like he’s being pitched? But somebody involved with SUPPLY OF KNIVES had had just enough authorial flair — that, or true faith — to caption each knife’s mysterious, blurry accompanying JPEG with a description whose constant recourse to specialized vocabularies seemed to say, “You’re not even reading this unless you already know about this sort of thing. Let us therefore speak like the fellow travelers we are.”

It was like a trade catalog for roadside bandits in need of knives.

I can’t speak for everybody, but I know that when I was a child the life of the roadside bandit seemed like a pretty romantic way to go. I looked at all these knives and read the descriptions and was just generally delighted about the whole thing, so I saved the email in a “memorable spam” folder I used to keep that had maybe two other emails in it. A few years later, Apple came out with this robotic-arm-screen iMac you never see any more, and we were long overdue for a new computer so we got that; and then, after a while, I got myself a laptop, because I was traveling all the time, and eventually both the old iMacs ended up in the basement, and they were both asleep but alive until fairly recently, as far as I knew.

But when I went to check for the email, it was gone. The old blue iMac is dead, bricked, lifeless. Searches on the term “supply of knives” on this laptop and on good old robot-arm-screen find nothing. The backup CD for the blue iMac drive is probably in a drawer around here somewhere, but that’s like saying, “The coin I had in my swim trunks’ pocket is probably somewhere in the ocean.” There is no SUPPLY OF KNIVES. There’s only the memory."

[source]

And this is the wonderful cover art of Getting Into Knives. Back cover and promo material below. Note that "Knives International" and "Knives Wordwide" are not real companies, they appear to be a callback to that elusive spam email.

#not that I'm particularly into TMG #but it's interesting #trs #The Mountain Goats #John Darnielle #Getting Into Knives #Wolf in White Van #only knives left #tools of the trade #bandit #prison ballads #tangentially

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captain-mj · 9 months

Note

Hi, can you continue the dragon fic?

Whether you continue it or don’t, I also wanted to say that I love your fics!

I COMPLETELY FORGOT TO POST THAT I AM SO SORRY

This is the last part btw

Part 1 Part 2

Soap fed Ghost breakfast. He was finally getting some weight back. His wings were much heavier than Soap realized so he had quickly upped his food, trying to keep him well fed at all times. Ghost would choke down what he could, finally able to get more than a few pieces of bread down.

Soap looked at him gently, holding Ghost’s cheek again. Ghost had also finally learned to accept the touch. Soap tried to keep himself in check about it as well, but Ghost was… fucking there. Again.

“Come on. Few more bites, yeah?”

Ghost glared at him a little but took a few more bites of meat from between Soap’s fingers.

“Of course, My King.”

“Simon.”

“Ghost.”

“Simon.” Soap repeated. “You don’t have to call me that.” He ran his fingers through Ghost’s hair, not to touch this time, just to fix it out of his face. “You’re freezing.”

Ghost shrugged and looked away.

“How does a hot bath sound? Try to heat you back up.” Soap smiled at him. His worry was clear. It’s why Ghost had a hard time staying mad at him.

“It would help. No real point though. It won’t hurt me to be like this.” It just hurt and made him feel empty and sluggish.

Soap shook his head. “You’re not comfortable. I want to make sure you feel alright.” He got up and Ghost expected him to order a servant to do it. Instead he fixed the bath himself, setting a fire underneath the tub so the water would heat up faster. It was close to boiling and the idea of sinking down into it was… Very appealing.

Ghost shook his head slowly. “I shouldn’t.”

“Si-….. Ghost. Get in the bath.” Soap said it gently and Ghost finally listened. He sank in until he was fully submerged.

Heat. Visceral and hot and life giving. It swarmed around him. Far too hot to be comfortable for a human, otherwise he was sure Johnny would follow him. He stayed down there as long as he could before coming back up for air.

Soap gently started to comb through Ghost’s hair. He was careful not to touch the water.

Ghost reluctantly relaxed into the water again. It felt so nice.

Once he was done, he was given a robe that was a little too small but wrapped around him at least. He felt weirdly taken care of.

Soap continued to dote on him even after he got out. He gently rebandaged each wound and kissed over the bandages. Ghost was a slave to his whims. Soft and pliant. Something dead had taken over. Crawled into his ribs and pushed out what he was previously.

Soap kissed his forehead and brought him back to bed. “Lay on your stomach for me.”

Ghost did as he was told, eyes closing. Warm hands touched over his wings, checking every inch for breaks or wounds. Once he was satisfied they were fine, he gave Ghost a kiss on the forehead before laying next to him. Not touching this time.

Ghost moved so his head was on Soap’s chest. He curled up a little so he’d seem smaller.

“Simon.” Johnny whispered against his hair. “Simon…. Simon….” He repeated it like a prayer. Gentle and soothing.

Ghost went limp and fell asleep.

His time mostly passed the same way. Soap doted on him. Anytime Ghost managed to ask for something, Soap would get it.

A fire? Of course. Gold jewelry for the start of a hoard? Absolutely. Soap’s undying love and loyalty? He didn’t ask for it but he certainly had it.

A king was on his knees for him. Soap was fixing his clothes and had sank down so he could do so. He then tied Ghost’s shoes, pressing his cheek against his thigh while he did. It was unnecessary, Ghost was fully able to do that, but Soap insisted. He kissed Ghost’s fingertips gently before double checking him once more.

“Alright. You’re good to go outside.”

Ghost nodded and slowly followed him. He was well dressed now. There was enough to cover all of his skin which was good.

Soap led him down the halls of his castle and introduced him to people. To different servants and knights and others. All of whom treated him with an intense amount of respect. Most wouldn’t meet his eyes, as if he could somehow smite them. Right now he could barely make a spark so that wasn’t going to happen.

They didn’t touch him either and their eyes lingered on the way Soap held his hand or his arm or just in general kept him close.

It was unnerving. But Ghost assumed he would get used to it like everything else.

Soap tugged him outside into the sun. The gardens were completely abandoned so he was safe to do what he wanted, according to Soap.

“Stretch out. Maybe try flapping your wings. I want to get you back to normal.”

Ghost flapped his wings once. Twice. He gave up. It hurt. His wings were really heavy.

Soap smiled. “Great job! Do you want to walk with me?”

Ghost followed him around the place. His muscles were unhappy with the sudden movement but he was tired of staying in bed all the time. The bed was definitely an improvement from the floor though.

The company didn’t hurt either. Soap had been growing on him lately.

Johnny. Johnny had been growing on him lately.

“The clouds.”

Soap paused whatever he was doing to glance at Ghost, looking excited at the prospect of him speaking. “Yes?”

“I wish they did feel like cotton. It would be nicer.”

Soap nodded. “Yeah. They were freezing.”

“Can’t wait to see them again.”

“Will you take me up there?”

Ghost paused and looked at Johnny. “Yeah. I will.”

Soap smiled at him and just stared. Unnerving. Too soft. Too nice.

Simon kissed him. Carefully. Johnny felt warm against his skin.

“Hello Simon. It’s nice to see you again.”

“I called for you. When I left. I tried to stay.”

Johnny grabbed his hand gently and squeezed it. “It wasn’t your fault Love. I promise.”

Simon leaned into him, drinking it in. The warmth. The smell of flowers. Everything. Especially Johnny.

“Going to take care of you. Make sure nothing like this ever happens again.”

Simon melted into him fully. He purred loudly and rubbed his cheek against Soap’s like a giant cat. “Missed you so much… So very, very much.”

Soap pulled back and started to kiss him again. Feverish and desperate. “Simon. Simon. Should’ve never left that day. Should’ve taken you home.”

Just like before. Little flames leaking off of Simon’s body. Setting flame to the grass around them. Never touching Johnny’s skin though.

They circled them and flickered as Johnny encouraged Simon to kiss him however much he wanted. Let them both fall to the floor and melt into each other.

Simon finally felt warm again.

#johnny soap mactavish #captain john price #ghostsoap #soapghost #simon ghost riley #soap cod #cod mw2 #ghost cod #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare ii

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kottkrig · 27 days

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Modern day WoW gameplay is not that appealing to me, DF has not been my kind of expansion theme (even if it's been very visually pretty) and I probably would not be subbed if it wasn't for the few close friends I got here and the super entertaining writing+art we do together

The upcoming expansion(s) do sound more up my alley but being a Committed Gamer isn't quite for me at this point in my life I think

#i've done raiding and rated pvp and casual pvp and achievement hunting and everything under the sun #now I mostly do casual alt leveling and mog collecting #i'm still invested cause eternal Forsaken brainrot that I can get nowhere else #Warcraft dragons are just zzzzzzzzzznnnnn to me I'm so sorry #kott talks

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