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il-miele-che-scrive · 9 months ago

Note

Can I request something similar to your latest Lewis smau except y/n is Toto's daughter? It's controversial because she's younger, you know the drill

Sure!! <3 For this one I made Y/n a singer

Btw the song in this fic is made up lol

username1 She's PRECIOUS

username2 Y/n is so me

username3 Honestly that's so reletable

username4 I swear this girl will pet any creature she can, how isn't she scared of catching some disease?

↳username1 Have you ever heard of water? Is the concept of washing your hands familiar to you?

username5 Oh to be a cat pet by Y/n Wolff...

username6 A rich girl petting strays... Imagine how much of a better place the world would be if she put the same energy into some charity work

↳username7 Y/n is known for doing charity work when it comes to animals. Pretty sure some % of her earnings goes to several pet charities, organizations. Not to mention she's been vegan for a few years now

↳username8 Wow immagine if you did your research before commenting

↳username9 i love how Y/n was born into the rich life but has always been humble and used her money to help others

username10 Literally she gets a lot of hate for being a daughter of a billionaire like okay next time she'll choose to be born poor lmao

username11 exactly!! there's a difference between flexing on daddy's money and using your daddy's money for good causes

username9 pretty sure she makes her own money now;)

y/n_wolff Busy day at work 😋 look who I bumped into on the way to the studio!!

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georgerussell63 Look at you finally doing some work

↳y/n_wolff Don't worry, soon I'm back at my 2nd job (I just hang around the paddock looking all pretty and stuff)

georgerussell63 No, thank you ❤️ we don't miss you

lewishamilton Speak for yourself George, Roscoe likes when Y/n babysits him

y/n_wolff Roscoe is the only one who understands me for real 😭

roscoelovescoco Petition for an invitation next time you go to the studio

↳y/n_wolff I swear I sent one, it must've got lost on the way 🥹 the pigeon dropped it or something

roscoelovescoco Still using pigeons? That's not very vegan of you...

y/n_wolff Hey! I pay them, alright? If they didn't want to, they wouldn't do this job...

y/n_wolff (hey everyone this is a joke obv)

username3 Imagine what will happen when the haters see this comment section lol

mercedesamgf1 Can't wait to hear it ❤️

↳y/n_wolff 🫶

oscarpiastri Look at that last pic of Y/n with Lando

↳landonorris fuck you if I was an animal i wouldn't be a cat

y/n_wolff Right, you'd be a worm.

landonorris would you guys still love me if I was a worm?

oscarpiastri No

y/n_wolff No

username1 May this be a love song 🤞I need to her one from Y/n after her terrible breakup last year

↳username2 She had a boyfriend last year??

username1 Yeah, we don't know anything about him besides the fact that he broke her heart... Poor girl deserves some true love

username2 Was it a driver?

username1 I highly doubt it, they wouldn't be able to keep it so private

alex_albon Pls make it singable on track

↳y/n_wolff 😬 well...

alex_albon Y/n...

y/n_wolff It's a love song...

username4 SHE ADMITTED!! IT'S A LOVE SONG!!

↳username5 Our girl is in love again 😭

username4 I just hope he treats her better than her ex. Otherwise imma need to talk to him

maxverstappen1 If you like cats so much you should come over sometime

↳username4 Cats rizz 💀

↳username2 No cuz Max has had a crush on Y/n for so long now and I'd love to see them together

↳y/n_wolff You're a few weeks too late 😂🙈

username3 EXCUSE ME I NEED TO KNOW WHO THE MAN IS

username5 Me too, I just wanna talk... *cracking fingers*

y/n_wolff The one I prayed for out now, let me know your thoughts 🩷🕊️

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georgerussell63 Since when are you so religious?🤨

↳y/n_wolff He changed me ❤️

oscarpiastri Great, another song Lando will make me unwillingly listen to

↳y/n_wolff You love my music, don't lie

landonorris yes he does

oscarpiastri Alright, I know a few songs

y/n_wolff A few songs my ass, I saw that iconic interview where you and Lando sing my songs

landonorris he will never admit it but he was a fan YEARS before he got into f1 and met you

y/n_wolff Not like I stalk his Twitter but I saw a post from 2019 about me, it had like 5 likes and Oscar was one of them lmao

landonorris i knew you had daddy issues but are you okay?

↳y/n_wolff Yeah why?? Wtf??

landonorris well after hearing this song I'm not

username1 "They may judge the age we are, the differences they see, but love knows not of boundaries, it only seeks to be free" MY GIRL IS A POET 😭

username2 I'm not ready to meet this man after hearing "He's walked through fire, faced his fears, but in his heart, there's room for tears" 😭

carmenmmundt Truly in love with the lyrics, they're out of this world, out of this century

↳y/n_wolff Thank you love 🥹

lewishamilton The chorus got me in a chokehold💜

↳y/n_wolff He's the one I prayed for, in the dead of night, a love like ours, hidden from sight. If people knew, they'd say it's wrong, but in his arms I belong🥹

↳username4 What is Lewis doing here...?

username5 Chill, he drives for Mercedes. George also commented in case you didn't notice

username3 Lyrics so beautiful miss girl was born in the wrong generation

↳username2 fr it sounds straight from 20th century poetry, she's too pure for the age of quick tinder hookups

username6 I knew what her father was like but damn...that song screams daddy issues...

↳username7 Y/n said music is her therapy, that's just how she chooses to express her emotions

username8 When are we going to talk about this part of the lyrics?? "In his eyes, reflections of victory, every triumph and mystery. He's raced through life, faced every curve"?? THIS HAS TO BE ABOUT A DRIVER

↳username9 Y/N AND MAX???

username10 me when I'm delusional

↳username11 I wish it was about Max, but it's certainly about an older guy. I mean, Max is a few years older than Y/n, but the song feels like the guy is in his 30s

lewishamilton Summer break = days spent at the beach

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username1 Sir Lewis Hamilton casually adding his boss' daughter to his vacation pics 🤨

↳username2 fr did he think we wouldn't notice?

georgerussell63 Blink twice if Y/n forced you to post the last photo

↳lewishamilton She kindly asked and I agreed.

y/n_wolff Exactly. That's what I do. I ask. Kindly.

username3 SO HER SONG IS ABOUT HIM??

↳username4 Seems like it 🥹

username3 idk how I feel about it tbh... she's too young for him

username5 Yeah imo she'd be better with Max

username4 Shut the hell up guys, let them be happy, there must be a reason they're together

landonorris that's called soft launching, did you know that?

↳y/n_wolff Wdym?? We're just team bonding during the summer break

georgerussell63 Then why wasn't I at the team bonding?

y/n_wolff Uhhhh I'll call you back later, I'm driving through a tunnel 😬

username6 She's too young for him, will have her fun and move onto the next guy (Max?)

↳username7 You're the reason why so many celebs prefer to keep their relationships a secret

username8 WHAT DID TOTO SAY??

↳username6 Does he even know? 💀 AFAIK he doesn't have social media

username8 But it's impossible that he wouldn't know, right...?

y/n_wolff I love you but what is this basic caption?😭

↳lewishamilton I'd rather like to focus on how pretty you look

y/n_wolff I LOVE YOU 😭

landonorris simp

y/n_wolff Stfu Lando, you wish you could hang out with us at the beach

username3 Lmao didn't expect Lando calling the 7 times world champion a simp but here we are

username9 Okay guys but... The girlfriend effect? How will the girlfriend effect work in this case if Lewis is a fashion icon already?

↳username10 There must be a way for an upgrade, there always is

y/n_wolff Sorry, he's all perfect already🫶I guess the gf effect only applies to boys and my man is a real man🗡

maxverstappen1 Have fun ☀️ see you back on track soon

↳username6 Something doesn't feels right seeing Max in this comment section...

username10 Get your shit together, him and Y/n never had a thing, y'all made it all up based on one interview Max gave years ago

mercedesamgf1 🌞😎

y/n_wolff He's the one I prayed for

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lewishamilton I love you babe but what is this basic caption?

↳y/n_wolff You're learning from the best, I see

georgerussell63 Good to know you're still team bonding 👍

↳y/n_wolff Yeah, we bonded really hard last night😌

georgerussell63 TMI

oscarpiastri The last pic 🤓

↳landonorris she's getting bold isn't she

y/n_wolff I don't have reasons to be shy tho, do I?

landonorris girl made one good song and made it her whole personality

↳y/n_wolff This is girlhood, you'd never get it

landonorris btw this is hard launching but in a 'we don't give a fuck' way

↳y/n_wolff Well, we don't 🤷‍♀️

username1 WHAT HAPPENED TO THE LITTLE Y/N😭

↳username2 She grew up 😭

username3 I love how nonchalant they're about it

carmenmmundt Someone's been working out🤭

↳y/n_wolff Now I have a personal trainer 😌

username4 WHAT DID TOTO SAY??

↳username5 Bet we're gonna see much more of smashing his headset after the break

username6 How is she so casual about it? We just found out she's dating LEWIS MF HAMILTON and she's acting like that's nothing

↳username3 I guess it is 'nothing' for her, she's known Lewis since she was really young

username7 That's what's giving me the biggest ick because this man has known her since she was an early teen and suddenly decided to date her?

username3 Yeah but she's in her 20s now, she's a consenting adult

username7 That's not normal, this is the definition of grooming

username3 I'm sorry I'm too european for your bullshit

username8 Lewis said fuck it I'm going to Ferrari next year anyway, might as well shoot my shot 💀

username9 Max Verstappen has been really silent

↳username10 Now he'll compete with Lewis not only for the championship but also for Y/n 😂

username9 It would be such a win

username11 Can y'all MaxY/n shippers shut up? I swear y'all are worse than Lestappen shippers

y/n_wolff Roscoe working hard while his dad socializes with his grandpaw 🥳

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username1 I didn't even realize now that Y/n and Lewis are together it means Toto is Roscoe's grandpaw 😭

georgerussell63 Working hard or hardly working?

↳y/n_wolff No comment...

landonorris really shocked to see toto still gets along with lew

↳username2 Lando saying what we all think lol

↳y/n_wolff Dad was actually happy!!

landonorris does he hope you'll convince lew to stay in mercedes?

y/n_wolff How am I supposed to know 🤷‍♀️ you go talk to him

oscarpiastri New songs when?

↳y/n_wolff Soon!! (I haven't started working on them)

username2 I'm actually happy to see them happy and that Toto accepts Lewis as Y/n's boyfriend

↳username3 It's still weird 💀 imagine calling a 40 year old your 'boyfriend'

username2 People are allowed to find love at any age

username3 Lewis is closer in age to Toto than to Y/n

username2 And? Y/n isn't a child, she's a grown woman, if Lewis is what she wants, who are we to judge?

username3 It's just icky... It's not gonna last long

username4 I still can't stop thinking what could be if Y/n was dating Max 🥹

↳username5 fr my dream couple

username6 Y'all see how Y/n predicted people's reaction in her song? "If people knew, they'd say it's wrong" and y'all can't stop yapping about imaginary grooming or what her and Max could've been

↳username7 Girl should've kept it a secret, I feel sorry for them 🥲

↳username8 But in his arms I belong

y/n_wolff Okay everybody, I didn't want to talk about it, but you give me no choice. Lewis and I are in love, there was no grooming involved, I make my own decisions. I really wanted to cherish our love with my new music, but you make me re-think it. I don't feel excited to share our love with you anymore.

↳lewishamilton Don't worry about them darling ❤️

↳danielricciardo FEA

↳landonorris You have our support guys

↳oscarpiastri Don't let these comments get to you, they don't matter

↳georgerussell63 I know I usually act like a snappy older brother, but I love to see you happy (even if Lewis is the reason)

↳maxverstappen1 Haters are always gonna hate, but they don't deserve your attention

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #F1 smau #Formula one smau #lewis hamilton smau #lewis hamilton social media au #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagine

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ellabscrush · 8 months ago

Text

— driver!ellabs headcanons 🛞

thinking about you being ellie & abby’s passenger princess..

» content; modern hcs, poly relationship, afab!reader, specific hcs, fluff, no smut just slight making out lol. mentions of road anxiety.

» a/n; the middle pic is literally abby and ellie coded. anyways, i felt like making this because is it just me orrrr is driving attractive?? especially when you imagine ellie and or abby driving you around??

divider creds to @cafekitsune

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

ELLIE WILLIAMS

driver!ellie lowkey would drive a used, 2000’s old ass sedan that has a few trash laying around the backseat.

driver!ellie often greets you by giving a peck on your lips, your neck, and compliments you as always.

driver!ellie random smiskis on the dash board you gifted her + glow in the dark star stickers on her sun roof ◡̈

driver!ellie blasts music but would ask you if it’s too loud for your liking.

driver!ellie she road rages SO much. like she has zero chill when it comes to being on the road. even when she’s the one at fault or the other car infront of her is driving the speed limit, she usually cusses them out for no reason 😭

driver!ellie stingy with aux but loves you so she hands her phone over so you could play your own music strictly on queue.

driver!ellie her music playlist covers are soft launch pictures of you.. and sometimes abby.

driver!ellie rests her slender hands on your thigh when she’s not as focused on traffic.

driver!ellie at a stop light, ellie would look over at you and admires how beautiful you look next to her while she caresses your face, “you look good.”

driver!ellie if her girls are not in the car, she would facetime you both while devouring some fast food. she loves you & abby’s company even when you both aren’t there physically.

driver!ellie goes on her phone alot while driving which gives you slight passenger anxiety, but quickly changes that once you mentions it to her one day.

driver!ellie “wanna drive?” asking you with a big ass excited grin on her face.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

ABBY ANDERSON

driver!abby drives a more newer car that is big enough space for her. she keeps it simple and clean with little to no decor. but religiously uses pine air scents in her vents.

driver!abby has a cute polaroid of the three of you hanging on the dash.

driver!abby greets you by saying your cute lil’ nicknames like; “gorgeous, doll, angel, baby.”

driver!abby unlike els verbal road rage, abby expresses. her frustration by loud sighing or groaning in traffic.

driver!abby bought herself & ellie phone stands on amazon when she heard your annoyance with phone in hand while driving. they even let you put stickers on ‘em.

driver!abby tells you “speed bump.. another one” when your touching up your makeup or something.

driver!abby likes the feeling of you relying on her for rides, “can i drive abs?” “no.”

driver!abby grips your thigh hard to “keep you in place” when the condition of the road is harsh but really she’s just a thigh girl (wbk)

driver!abby looks so hot when picking you up straight from gym. strands of hair sticking on her sweaty forehead, her braid messed up a bit, sports bra & shorts combo 😮‍💨

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

CAR RIDES W/ ELLABS

driver!ellabs abby often insists on driving the two since her car is bigger.. plus lots of room to makeout in the backseat.

driver!ellabs has a collaborated music playlist with a chaotic group cover pic of you three.

driver!ellabs rushes to open the door for you first like it’s a competition.

driver!ellabs ellie being too lazy to move to the back like a normal person so she just climbs to the back of abby’s clean car with shoes on. “you motherfucker,” the blonde sighs, “my bad” ellie playfully smirks.

driver!ellabs when you choose to sit in the back, you were in awe catching a rare sight of abby holding ellie’s thigh.

driver!ellabs “ladybug!” *ellie shoulder punches the both of you*

driver!ellabs carpool karaoke is always a blast.

driver!ellabs abby purposely putting her big arms behind your seat when reversing while ellie watches.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

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pinescent-and-gingerbread · 4 months ago

Note

I was wondering if you could do a little drabble where the reader breaks her leg in an accident and Arthur goes to help her by picking her up and taking her home. Please I want Arthur to hold the reader like a princess! 🥺💞

Here you go sweet anon! 🍑

Yes this was supposed to be a drabble but I got a little carried away as always and this ended up being a bit longer than expected. I hope you won't mind!! 🙏

˖✧To pick up a Peach

✦ Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader ✦ Warnings/Tags: Description of a broken leg and physical pain, otherwise this is pure fluff. Arthur being the sweetest gentleman he is in high honor. ✦ Words: 2,4k ✦ a/n: I don't know why but I got carried away with this one and I ended up really loving it. I changed it just a little bit and made Arthur carry you to the doc, cause you know, he wouldn't let you go home without minimum care. He's like that. I made the reader some sort of farmer's daughter AU? Anyway, hope you'll still like it, Anon! Credits. Arthur's pic is mine. Other pics are from Pinterest. Little doodles made by me.

You were screwed.

That’s the thought that was stuck in your mind. Your horse, which the stableman had sworn to you was a gentle and peaceful creature, turned out to be a wild furious animal who was extremely nervous and appeared to have only one idea in mind: go back to where it belonged, the plains of the Heartlands.

You were simply on a ride to Valentine. You would often go there with your sisters on Mondays and Sundays to sell what your family had harvested in your native town, Emerald Ranch, setting up your little stand next to the butcher’s. Usually, these trips were pleasant and you had grown to like them, relieved to see something else than the gloomy and weird atmosphere that had settled in your village.

But your treacherous companion had decided, after an encounter with a snake somewhere near the Twin Stack Pass, that enough was enough. After rearing up as if his life depended on it, he took off at full speed, ejecting you with a crash to the ground, making the wicker basket containing all your precious products fly up in the air like a colorful firework of fruits and vegetables.

An ominous, muffled creak as your body lands.

Stunned, breathless, it took you a few seconds to regain your composure, long gone and galloping off with your horse.

Of course, that had to happen the only time you had decided to ride alone for once.

Your left leg, broken. The fruit of your labors and harvests, your perfect peaches, flawlessly ripe tomatoes and carrots, promising seeds, and beautiful flowers, scattered and smashed on the floor. Your dignity, gone.

Lying back on the dirt, hair spread like a star around your head, surrounded by an indescribable substance made of crushed fruits and flower petals reduced to a mush, you looked like the religious figure of Bad Luck.

On top of that, being a lonely young woman, unarmed, and hurt in the open clearly wasn’t an ideal situation. Any man with bad intentions could easily do the worst thing to you in your state.

You tried to get back in a sitting position. Every movement was igniting the pain in your broken bone, deep inside your calf, spreading it through your entire body like a burning trail of powder. You let out a short pained grunt, followed by a curse. Slowly tugging your skirt up your knee, you took a worried look at your leg.

It looked bad.

Painted with deep colored bruises kind of bad.

The sight of it along with the incessant stabbing pain coming from it made your heart beat faster, and you did your best not to pass out from the nausea that was flying over your head. The panic of not feeling your toes anymore didn't helped at calming your heart rate.

There was no way you could walk back to any town in that state, or contact the rest of your family already waiting for you.

Yes, you were screwed.

Tilting your head backward, you looked at the sky, in an attempt to prevent your threatening tears from falling, or to throw a desperate call to the Heavens, you didn’t really know it yourself.

A muffled sound suddenly made its way to your ears. It looked like your involuntary prayer had been answered sooner than you would have expected.

It was the sound of hooves.

You snapped your head in the noise’s direction and noticed an approaching form on the road, raising a cloud of dust in its wake, coming towards you. Your only hope. You were praying, for real this time, that this upcoming stranger was a gentleman and not a bad man.

Praying, praying, praying.

Praying again as the man was at voice’s reach, and as you screamed and begged for help.

“M-Mister!” Your voice sounded even more pitiful than what you had planned, and a bit hoarse from the pain. Your ego protested, but screw it, he probably was your last chance. “Mister, please! I broke my leg! I can’t… I can’t…”

Apparently, shouting didn't seem to help the nausea. The more you were getting air out of your lungs by screaming the more your head was feeling dizzy.

Luckily for you, the lonely rider had heard your desperate breathless words and was heading towards you, stopping his horse in a skillful maneuver before dismounting, his two boots hitting the ground.

“What happen Ma’am, d’ya need some help?” He asked you, voice powerful and worried frown on his face.

“My horse got spooked by a damn snake and he ran away… Making me fall and I… I think my leg broke…” Your tone was pained and way weaker than his as you did your best to explain the situation, a single tear now streaming down your cheek.

The pain, the panic, the frustration from having a month’s worth of work destroyed in just mere seconds… You couldn’t hold it anymore.

Slowly approaching you, the man lowered himself in a crouching position to take a better look at you, and talk to you at the same eye level. His deep blue eyes studied your broken leg, surely not missing the disturbing, alarming color the bruises were taking, your skin an odd mix of purple and green now. It didn’t seem to disgust him though, his face stoic as he scanned your wound.

“Alright Miss jus’... Don’t move too much.” He advised you in a softer tone. You could see he was truly concerned about your state. “What’s with all this mess? You trynna make some soup or what?” He asked in a deep sarcastic tone, as if amused by his own words.

You drily chuckle, which revived the pain you were still feeling in your bone, making you cut your laugh and groan a bit, your own features contracting in a pained expression.

“It is… It was my crop… I was going to sell it in Valentine…” You explained once again, feeling shame and exasperation hitting you. You were feeling so angry from this waste, so angry at yourself to be the only one responsible for it, you couldn’t prevent more tears from falling, trying hard not to let yourself go into sobs.

“Ah, shit… I’m sorry for ya.” He exhaled, contemplating the scattered and mashed jelly-like matter composed of what was once your yield, pieces of peaches and broken carrots lying there, like on a battlefield. His gaze came back to yours, full of compassion and probably pity for your state, before continuing. “Don’t worry Miss. I’mma take you up to the Doc, in Valentine. ‘Was goin’ there anyway.”

You nodded in order to thank him, feeling so relieved life had put him on your way.

“Okay, I’m gonna help ya get on ma horse. It’s gonna hurt a little but we have to.” He warned you, getting completely down on his knees by your side.

You didn’t dare to move from one inch. He slowly wrapped an arm under your shoulders, his hand grabbing your side. Even more carefully, his other one slipped under your legs, and he gently lifted you up bridal-style, as if you weighed nothing, a fallen leaf in a gentle breeze.

As if he was carrying injured people all day every day.

Your broken member didn’t like it as much as you did though, and you hissed in pain from feeling your own weight pull on the wound as your leg was hanging in the air. He noticed, and spoke again while getting up, just as easily as if he wasn’t carrying an entire person in his arms right now.

“Gonna be okay Miss, hold on a lil’ longer.”

As if taking his words in a literal way, you encircled his waist with your arms and rested your head on his chest. His work shirt was used and dirty, rough against the skin of your cheek, but right now it just felt heavenly to you compared to the dusty rock of the floor. You sighed, feeling calmer and way better now.

If you had brought up your gaze, you could have seen how a slight blush was spreading on the tan skin of his cheeks the moment he felt you getting comfortable in his arms.

You heard him call for his horse with a short whistle and a sharp noise from his teeth. His mount obeyed right away, getting closer to both of you in a happy trot. You wish your horse could have been as gentle as this one. He looked like a really strong and powerful, but very sweet on the inside animal. A bit like its owner, now that you were thinking about it.

As carefully as if you were made of porcelain, the man in question let go of your legs, and you took support on your valid one. He then picked you up again, by your waist, and lifted you on the saddle, helping you to get settled and as comfortable as possible. His large hands were very soft on you, cautious, caring. You could feel how his touch was light and measured, calculated to make you feel the least pain possible.

“You take the saddle, else your leg would get too bumped during the ride.” He explained before hopping behind you, grabbing the reins by bringing his arms from both sides of you.

He was basically enveloping you, his large frame keeping you warm and steady. Against your shoulders, you could feel his biceps, and thanked the Lord once again this man had good intentions with you because there was no way you could have resisted this mountain of muscles.

The silence fell as your gentle savior spurred his horse into a slow pace, keeping him calm and cold-blooded. You mentally thank him for it, every movement from your leg, even the tiniest one, would ignite the flames of your pain again.

The ride to Valentine was a quiet, peaceful one, just like it was supposed to be from the start. Your eyes kept closing and opening as if you were on the verge of falling asleep, but still needed to be alert until you'd be safe and sound in town.

You only had exchanged a few words with the man, your names, and where you lived.

Arthur Morgan didn't look like the kind of man to have the longest conversations but his presence was reassuring nevertheless. His heavy breathing, his body around yours, the calmness of the plains… It was all making your pain less vivid and way more bearable.

Once in Valentine, Arthur rode straight to the Doctor, and got off first, tying his horse's reins around the fence.

“Here we are, Miss. Let's get ya checked up for good, shall we?” He said while standing right next to the saddle, opening his arms to pick you up again, a gentle smile on his face, as if telling you all your worries were behind you now.

If you thought this man was going to let you walk alone to the doc’s office and head off to his own business, you were damn wrong.

Even through your terrible state, a grin curled up your lips and mirrored his own expression. You let your tired and injured body sink into his solid one, and he carried you in his arms once again.

His scent ran through your nose as you breathed, traveling all the way down your veins to your lungs and everywhere in your body, enfolding you and your soul. It was a strong smell, not a delicate one like those gentlemen would carry with their cologne, but you liked it regardless. A mix of leather, sweat, tobacco, and this early dew scent, the one you can smell just before dawn, earthy and herbal, as if he had been sleeping under the stars for months.

The smell of the outdoors.

Arthur opened the door with one foot, and entered the Dr Calloway’s office with you in his arms, careful not to let your leg get knocked while walking through the door. The doctor took care of you right away, ordering Arthur to put you on the chair in the little room where patients were treated.

His muscled arms dropped you, his hands gentle and attentive, as slowly as if you were a newborn filly he could hurt or scare away by using too much force. There was such kindness, such gentleness and care in his gesture that it left you feeling all bubbly on the inside.

You kept on looking at him during all the time it took for Dr Calloway to treat you, waiting for him to just go, but he didn’t. He stayed, casually leaning his back against the wall to leave some space for the doctor, his eyes voyaging from your injury to your face, then away from you, as if he was feeling guilty about staring at you like this. It made you giggle.

You paid the doctor, thanked him goodbye, and before you could process it, here you were, freshly gifted with two crutches and a wooden splint around your injury in front of his door. Perfect. For a farmer family, a hurt worker was a curse.

“You gonna be okay now, Miss? D’ya need another ride home?”

Arthur’s deep voice dragged you out of your thoughts. This man was so special. He looked used, strong, and intimidating, but had been nothing but kind and delicate with you. Right now, his deep azure gaze was staring right at yours, making you feel even weaker in the knees than you already were.

“Oh, don’t worry, my family is already here. We have a wagon and all. Besides, you have done plenty for me, Mister Morgan.”

“Ah, don’t ya worry. 'Did what any man would have done seein’ a pretty lil’ lady like ya hurt on the ground.” He answered with a subtle grin.

Before you could realize it, his hand was reaching out for a strand of your hair, and his fingers brushed against it.

You froze, feeling a dark red settling on your cheeks, your eyes looking back at his in surprise and disbelief, searching for an explanation, even if your heart didn't want it. It wanted more of it, no questions asked.

“You hum… You still got some… pieces of peaches or somethin’ in your hair, Miss…” He explained himself, his voice a little less self-assured than before.

You blushed even more. You indeed must looked like a total mess after your accident, and mentally noted to go fix yourself as soon as possible.

“Oh, God I…” You started, feeling embarrassed and flustered, words mixing and blurring in your mind instead of lining up properly. You just sighed, closing your eyes, giggling a little. You then spoke again, keeping your tone as calm as you could. “Thanks again, Mister Morgan.”

“Please, jus’ call me Arthur.”

“Alright, Arthur. Thank you, for everything. I don’t know how I could thank you enough.”

“You know, maybe I could come someday, at your farm I mean, and buy some of your stuff. You could give me a rebate on those, unless everythin’ you sell actually looks like jam…” He added with a mischievous, low chuckle, gaze sparkling.

“Hey! My crops are perfect, Mister. I promise you won’t be disappointed.” You said back in an equally amused tone, a toothy smile completing the picture of your precious blushing face.

“I'm sure I won’t be, lil’ peach.”

His voice had turned just as soft as his touch had been when carrying you; for Arthur, you really were starting to become his sugary, soft, and delicious favorite fruit.

#I really need to calm myself when people request drabbles but I can't #I knoooow I SHOULD learn to restrict myself but eeeeh #I'm already quite restricted into my everyday life so I let myself get carried away when I write oopsie #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan fluff #request #pinefic

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babygirlboeser · 5 months ago

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NSFW Alphabet - Matt Rempe

had fun with this and will definitely be doing more nsfw alphabets. enjoy u horny motherfuckers. let me know your thoughts on this.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

the sweetest. regardless of how rough the sex was he is so soft and gentle in taking care of you afterwards. cleans you up and brings you water and anything you need. sometimes you take a shower together to clean up. so many soft kisses especially on areas you may be marked up or red. if you’re sore at all he’s massaging your hips, thighs, back, or whatever hurts. you would have the easiest communication with each other, making sure the other is okay, and if you had tried something new you talk about how you liked it and if it’s something you should do again, if there’s anything you want to do different, things you wanna try. you like to get so close to him, either spooning, laying on his chest, whatever, and fall asleep feeling so safe and loved in his arms.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

on the softer side of things, he loves your smile. he thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen and his heart melts every time he gets to see your smile or kiss your pretty lips. on the not so soft side, he loves how you look smiling up at him with watery doe eyes and cum dripping down your lips. he also loves your thighs, and is obsessed with kissing them and leaving little marks all over them before and after he gives you head. could squeeze and kiss your thighs all day, and loves laying his head in your lap, especially after a long day.

as for himself, maybe his hands. loves when you kiss his knuckles and bandage them up after a fight. also loves how his long fingers can hit so deep when he’s pounding them into your cunt, making you cum all over his hand. he also likes his abs simply because you love them so much. when he’s laying down and you slowly place kisses down his chest and abs, making your way down south, it gives him butterflies every time. also when he’s shirtless or getting changed and catches you staring, he’ll smile at you and tease you for it, but it still makes him blush every time no matter how long you’ve been together.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

at first it’s on your stomach or back depending on what position you’re in. but once you let him cum inside once, he rarely does it anywhere else. he adores the sight of his cum dripping out of your tight pussy. though sometimes he will pull out and cum all over the outside of your pussy or on your ass. and when he’s getting head he loves to fill your mouth with cum and watch you swallow all of him. when some of it drips out of your mouth and down your lips and chin, he wipes it away with his thumb and sticks his finger into your mouth so you can clean up all of his cum.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

wants to try anal. i can’t explain this i just feel like if he’s never done it then he would be curious to try it with you. would never want to do it if you were actually uncomfortable with it, but he’d think it’s so hot if you were open to trying it. of course he would stop immediately if you were in any pain or just weren’t enjoying it.

another one is that he wants to take make a sex tape with you. ofc he would never even think about taking pics/vids without your permission, but you’d both be nervous to bring it up, not wanting to make the other uncomfortable. secretly you’d want to do it too, so you both have something to get off to while he’s out of town. it does eventually come up, and you watch those videos religiously.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

honestly, he fucks. like yeah he has a busy life but he’s also the hottest shit in NY lately and could pull anyone he wants. he’s super popular and crazy fucking hot. man is definitely getting laid. but regardless i feel like he would just be so good at it whether he’s experienced or not. plus i feel like he would be a fast learner, would always be communicating with you on what you liked or didn’t like and what he can improve on. just wants to learn your body and how to make you feel good.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

doggy. it hits so deep and makes you both feel so good. plus the variations are endless, he can pull you against his chest, pin your arms behind your back, reach around and rub your clit, do it in front of a mirror to make you watch your own fucked out face, he can push your face into the pillows to shut you up. he also loves to make you squirt in doggy. it’s also his favourite way to watch his cum drip out of you. it definitely feels the best for you as well, he hits so deep and fucks you so good you sometimes can’t even make noise because you feel so fucking good.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

he keeps things lighthearted. theres a lot of giggles and smiles from both of you. maybe a little less when you’re being punished, he’ll be more strict, but still never too serious.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

i feel like he doesn’t let it get toooo long, but also doesn’t clean up too regularly. just kinda an average amount.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

this man is huge on praise. will let you know how good you’re making him feel, that you taste so good, that you’re doing such a good job for him etc. and is always always telling you how pretty you look.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

you masturbate together on facetime when he’s away. it’s obviously never as good as actually being with him but it’s better than doing it totally alone. it makes you so much more desperate to see him again and you’re climbing him like a tree the second he gets home. you also send him pics and vids to watch while he’s gone so he has new material to get off to whenever he wants, but still prefers facetime if you’re available.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

breeding kink, eventually. once you’re at the point in your relationship where you start talking about trying, he becomes obsessedddd. once he cums in your pussy he may slow down but definitely keeps going, because he wants to push it all in. or will collect it all up with his fingers and push it back inside. he needs you to stay full.

bondage. nothing too severe but wants to tie your hands up or handcuff you. and loves holding your arms behind your back when he’s hitting it from behind. this also goes both ways, he would never admit it but he would love if you handcuffed him. you would both think it’s the hottest thing ever and he would look so pretty all submissive for you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

in bed. simple. in his bed, specifically, if you weren’t living together. when you’re not there he loves thinking about the fact that he’s laying in the exact spot he fucked you. he likes it there because he can pretty much get you in any position, the possibilities are endless. but he also loves putting you on the counter and fucking you or eating you out like that. he likes when you ride him or suck him off while he’s sitting on the couch too. also a fan of holding you up by your thighs and pinning you against a wall. sometimes he doesn’t even use the wall, he just holds you. he’s so strong and so much bigger than you, he can pick you up and fuck you like that with ease. he really likes anywhere he can get you, but bed is a classic.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

oh, practically anything. he’s so down bad for you, you can turn him on so easily. whether it’s teasingly or not, you could just touch his leg and he’s hard. you could be gently playing with his hair and he’s bricked up, because he started thinking about you pulling his hair when he’s eating you out. another thing is that you can never go swimming together because he is fighting an erection pretty much immediately at the sight of you in a swimsuit. everything gets his going, but one thing that always does it is seeing you in his jersey or anything with his name and # on it. he thinks it’s so hot and just reminds him that you’re his and nobody else’s.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

nothing that could really hurt you. like if you wanted to try knife play or something like that i feel like he’d be against it, he’d be too scared to hurt you and would never forgive himself if he did something to cause you any harm. he would definitely be into some light choking and some bondage but he wouldn’t do anything that could seriously hurt you. other than that he’s pretty open to everything, and will try mostly anything as long as you both feel comfortable and safe.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

this man could go down on you for hours and he is so goddamn good at it. can easily have you squirming and moaning in seconds, and can make you cum so fast. the way he can fuck his tongue into you, suck your clit, pump his fingers into your pussy. he knows how to make you fall apart so easily. and riding his face? you’re a fucking mess for him. it feels so fucking good, and he loves having you on his face, grinding on him and whining his name.

as for receiving, well, he’s a man so obviously he loves it. he thinks there’s nothing prettier than the sight of you glassy-eyed with his cum dripping down your face. he doesn’t last long at all when your lips are wrapped around him. i feel like he’d be very sensitive too and when you first take him in your mouth he has to grip your hair or the sheets to ground himself and restrain himself from bucking his hips into your face. doesn’t wanna actually hurt your throat. also i feel like he would usually wanna get you off at least once before he cums, it’s not often that he gets head first but sometimes you insist.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

oh it can totally go either way. really depends on the vibe. if you’re being bratty he’s pounding you fast and rough until you can’t even make noise because you’re so fucked out. but can also be slow and sweet, or anywhere in between. i’d say it’s more often rough, but it changes day to day, really.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

definitely prefers to take his time with you. sometimes you guys can’t help but pull each other into a bathroom at a party, but when that happens you usually try and come up with an excuse to go home so you can take care of business properly. he has stamina so one quick round is never enough and just leaves him aching for more. it’s sometimes worse than not doing it at all because it leaves him so wanting.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

would be into public sex but nothing that could get either of you in serious trouble. like, public but not too public yk? bathrooms, car, when there’s other people in the house, etc., nothing crazy. if there’s other people home he’s taking you from behind and either pushing your face into the pillows or holding his hand tightly over your mouth. as for experimenting he loves trying out new things, and like i said he would try just about anything as long as it couldn’t hurt you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

oh he has stamina. like i said, he always makes you get off by oral, fingering, or toys at least once before he cums. then once it gets to the actual sex he can go for so many rounds. if you’re both tired maybe just 2, but if you’ve got all night? you’re pulling orgasm after orgasm from each other. as for how long he lasts it varies every time, sometimes he lasts a while but sometimes he’s so sensitive and busts almost immediately.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

oh he totally uses toys on you. early in your relationship no, but once you’ve been doing it for a while you bring up using toys with him, and he’s definitely into using a vibe on your clit often. he might’ve seen them as an enemy rather than a friend at first but once you start using them together, they quickly grow on him. he for sure buys you new toys to try out while he’s out of town, on the condition that you send him vids of you using them and feedback on how you liked each one.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

could tease you and edge you for hours if you were being a brat. but he always gives in eventually, you look so pretty for him and he wants to make you feel good. would never leave you hanging.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

i feel like he would love to be loud with you but definitely tries to keep it down at first, keeping it to just a few low grunts because he thinks you don’t want to hear it. after a couple times you notice he’s struggling and trying to suppress it, and once you realize that and tell him you want to hear him, he never shuts up. and his moans are godly. just thinking about his pretty moans can have you soaked through your panties.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

would love when you ride his thigh. thinks you look so fucking hot making yourself feel good on him, cumming on his thigh. sometimes he’ll guide your hips to help you, or bounce his leg. will occasionally have you do it as punishment, make you get off just by grinding on his thigh, and won’t help you. he knows you’re tired after so he does the rest of the work from there.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

based on vibes i wanna say he’s packing like 8-9 inches but i’ve seen certain photos of him in tight shorts that leave little to the imagination so idk… could be 4. then again i’ve seen photos where it looks bigger so really idk what to think, but regardless he knows how to use it.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

this man is always ready. of course he would never do anything if you weren’t in the mood though. if you’re not into it, neither is he. but like i said, it’s not hard to get him going, so if you want it, he’s always ready.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

pretty quickly honestly. once aftercare is done you’re both out like a light, wrapped up in each other’s arms. sometimes you talk for a while but usually it doesn’t last long as you pass out fast. you wear each other out.

#matt rempe smut #matt rempe imagine #matt rempe x reader #matt rempe fic #mr73 smut #lina writes

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ghost-bison · 9 months ago

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Fourteen/Noble-Temple Family Headcanons:

-that one time he lets Rose into the TARDIS, she finds polaroids of his advendures with his companions, and sees the funniest pictures of Ten and Donna acting stupid together

-Rose also sees pics of Rose Tyler and she listens to Fourteen talk about her passionately

-when Rose shows the pics to her mom, Donna gets emotional about seeing Ten's baby face again, and she tells her about their adventures

-Fourteen and Donna fight about the real story behind each picture because Donna tends to exaggerate how mature she was compared to Ten, whereas Fourteen tends to underestimate how careless Ten could be

-Sylvia keeps cooking for Fourteen like a grandmother because "he looks like a stick". He pretends to be annoyed but he secretely likes it when the Noble-Temples pamper him

-thursday night is family game night. He lets everyone win except for Donna and it becomes a competition between them

-Shaun gets him into football and they watch the World Cup together almost religiously, getting crazy in front of the television together

-speaking of: the Noble family know the Olympics is a sacred time of the year for Fourteen and they respect that

-he poses with Rose's creations for her pictures on Etsy

-he often sneaks Wilfred's wheelchair into the TARDIS and takes him to see the stars

-him, Rose and Shaun sit together on the sofa watching Donna and Sylvia get into arguments and taking bets on who's gonna get the last word several times a week

-Fourteen bets on Sylvia everytime out of fear

-he becomes a teacher of quantum physics at Univ and the students absolutely love him

-Donna teases him because she knows he has a crush on that other teacher

-but then she gets into full protective dad mode when he asks the Doctor out on a date

-he takes a membership at a reading club and annoys everybody because he can't sit still for more than five minutes and gets into heated arguments with that one member about Shakespeare facts

-they have barbecues with Martha and Mickey

-and the Doctor apologizes for how he treated them back in the day (but especially Martha)

-eventually, Fourteen contacts Jack again and he joins in for the occasional barbecue. After about five minutes being reunited Jack starts calling Fourteen a DILF (we all know he would)

-Donna, Melanie, Martha and Fourteen go to the spa together from time to time as a girl treat

-Rose gets a cat and the cat is obsessed with Fourteen

-and sometimes it sneaks into the TARDIS and they all spend 30 minutes trying to lure him out with treats

-Fourteen sometimes cooks for the family and his cooking skills are incredible (when he manages not to set anything on fire)

-when he and Donna go to Unit work parties (she takes him there as her plus one but he doesn't really work there) they spend the whole evening stuck together gossiping

-and when people come to them to ask about their adventures they start bullshitting in sync and it's just so hard for them not to laugh when they look at each other

-then during the evening they have their own little dance routine

-the TARDIS is decorated with fairylights, stuffed animals made by Rose, little pillows, garlands and pictures

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blingblong55 · 4 months ago

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The end is here...right?-Simon "Ghost" Riley

photo credit @ave661 middle pic Not edited at all!! ---- F!Reader, angst? idk, cheating ---- A/N: honestly, don't even ask me what this is, I felt the need to write this very late at night...so I'm sorry

"I love you." Oh, what a miserable way to begin the end of this love story. How did it end? How did his smiles, kisses and most importantly those eyes that shined when they looked at you end? Why must love be this evil? Soon, after this funeral you and he will walk away and be strangers once more.

One more glance, maybe one that explains why he fell out of love. Maybe it is a hopeful word for a fool like you. If only love was a joke, at least one you understood but it isn't and now you're dying in a room whilst the walls scream at your foolish heart. Can you pretend he never existed? Can you call him and have him there as he holds your lifeless heart? This book that you made wasn't one for the weak. This book was made for those who needed a reminder that they needed to leave. Was it toxic to have him love you that much and then rip it away from you just before you told him the dreams you wanted to have with him? Was it evil that you had already planned a life with him? or was it vile to have you this in love with the idea of a man who couldn't love you like you wanted?

There will be a day when he fades but today isn't that day for he tattooed his name on your heart for the next millennia to see…to whisper about when they hear the chapel weep for a love that it never got to seal. Oh, what a cruel man must Simon but to have you in bed, to kiss your body like there was no other woman for him. Wise men do say death is best when it isn't by the hand of the lover. If only he warned you about him.

His smile will forever be engraved in you just like his lips will be left with scars that once were butterflies on you. "I'm not a good man, love," he once told you and oh what a fool were you when you didn't listen. Did the weeping willow tree not warn you? "You're in terrible danger." it once said but you brushed it off.

His things are still there, his jacket on the chair like the night he came home and hugged you. Did you know it'd end with you waiting for him to come home again? He was here to destroy you and what a job he did.

Maybe someday, in an alternate universe, he hadn't left you for her. Maybe he would have stayed and completed the dreams you once had. And just perhaps you'd be religious to thank whatever is out there for him.

Tonight you curse whatever is out there.

He was never to keep, maybe he should told you that.

Does he love her like he did you? Maybe he kisses her shoulder but does he move the furniture so he can dance with her in the middle of a drunken midnight? Midnight…hm..what a time to be dead and buried with his memories on your headstone.

He was yours.

He was meant to be yours.

Will you one day confess you left the front porch light on in case he needed a guide back home?

"Forgive me, I have sinned. I committed murder, not literal murder but of my own heart," you whisper to the altar you never got to say your vows to. And maybe she'll hear his vows but you swear yours are sweeter than hers.

As the midnight falls, you aimlessly walk to the haunted chapel. The rain pours as you look at the windy sky. You sigh and maybe that should've been your last one for what is life if not with him.

You don't need much, just need him. Maybe you can sacrifice anything…for the love of all hell… sacrifice anything to get him back.

As you sit on the stairs of the chapel, you look dishevelled. There is a ring on your hand. The one he gave you one Christmas when you mentioned you liked the design of one. What a cruel idea that must've been. Your thumb runs over the designs and tears cascade down your face but it's oh so beautifully covered by the rain. "I love you, Simon. I…I fucking love you and it's killing me." you say before you break down in sobs. There's this feeling, the feeling when you cry too much your chest begs you to stop, where your head aches and your face begs to stop this pain.

You hold onto yourself, maybe this way you'll heal some of the love he took with him but it won't until you have him there.

Is it idiotic to want him back? Yes, but damn does it feel good to want him. So what if he broke your heart? Maybe no one understands this feeling. Maybe the poets were right.

You must let him go, it is killing this aching and weak heart of yours.

You do just that. The ring is left on the steps of the chapel and walk away. What an awful way to mourn the loss of his love. The rain will cover your tracks and maybe you can disappear for a little while.

Once you disappear, there is a shadow man who also mindlessly walks to the steps of the chapel. He sits down on the same steps you did. In his heart, there is a funeral that is happening. He lost something…someone. This man is bitter. There is a sour taste he leaves wherever he goes. Does he know the sour taste he left in you?

There is a story that goes around about him and you know it better than those that tell the story.

As he sits there, he looks at his hands. Did he kill his lover? Not physically…well…yes and now but he killed her heart. He is the doctor that collects hearts and he has yours in a golden jar.

As he looks down, he finds the ring he gifted you. As his eyes wander around the area, you are never to be found at least not anymore and maybe he will find you in his dreams. That's the last place you haunt with that ever-lovely smile he oh so adores.

Those who love are fools struck by Cupid.

He holds the ring and lets his thumb run through the designs he will never craft for another lover. He hums and shuts his eyes. If angels were real, they'd pity him and put him out of his misery.

There was a film about this kind of love out there and maybe you two are fools recreating it but adding real emotions into the mix.

"I love you, even if you'll be the end of me," he whispers as he sighs and lets the tears fall.

The end is here…and it wants to sweep you away but Simon clings to you. Was there another woman? No, he lied and it was a damn good lie so he'd let you live the life he can never give you. He is a bump, a major one at that, in your life and maybe one day, you'll forgive him when you sit down with the actual man of your dreams.

Love, what a stupid word.

A/N: not tagging anyone because I don't even know what this is anymore

#cod mw2 #cod #cod x reader #mwii #ghost cod #call of duty #simon ghost riley fanfiction #ghost simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley #simon riley call of duty #simon riley imagine #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley angst #cod angst

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petermorwood · 4 months ago

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Interesting post about costume here.

This paragraph in particular caught my attention...

What we think of as “peasant garb” is actually the product of a game of telephone that travels back from Romantic Revival art, and many of those (urban) artists got their idea of what rural peasants wore from opera costumes. The costumers working at the opera were not going out to the country side to take notes on what farmers actually wore, nor did they want to. Opera is show biz, you want it to be evocative, but not ordinary. Their costumes would have been based on what urban folks were wearing, with extra little touches like a shepherds crook to make it look “rural”.

... because it was Wagner's Ring Cycle that gave us horned helmets.

They didn't originate with the Vikings. They originated with the 1876 costume designs for a bunch of operas, and those designs by Carl Emil Doepler still exist.

For reference, all the horny characters are mortals.

Those helmets were probably based on archaeological finds, even though all Northern European examples are, AFAIK and depending on context, either religious headgear equivalent to a bishop's mitre, or ceremonial headgear equivalent to a crown.

In addition, every single one predates the Viking Age by a period ranging from a couple of centuries to a couple of millennia so - makes vague handwave gesture - they're more appropriate for the sorta-kinda mythic Migration Era setting of the Ring than any Vik who ever inged..

Doepler's designs also feature WINGED helmets, worn by immortals like Wotan...

... and the Valkyries.

Something else I encountered when looking for pics to illustrate this was that other clichéd armour error, the boob-plate.

Here's dramatic soprano Karin Branzell wearing one...

...while here's heroic tenor Fritz Vogelstrom also wearing one.

He's singing the role of Siegfried but wearing the costume of Brunnhilde, at least that's how it looks to an operatic Philistine like me.

Anyway...

Winged helmets are even more historically dodgy - no archaeological evidence at all - yet are actually more feasible as working combat helmets.

The difference is that horns, being heavy, need sturdy mountings so a horned helmet both provides catch-points for incoming blows and handles for an enemy to grapple, while a winged helmet does neither. The wings, being light, wouldn't need solid fixtures so would just shear off under a weapon or come off in an enemy's hands.

I'm well aware that other times, places and cultures - Indo-Persia, Poland, Japan etc. - had helmets with wings, horns and all sorts of other stuff, but this is about how the popular image of Vikings that headgear came from opera.

And went all over the place... :->

#arms and armour #Viking helmets #horned helmets #winged helmets #not Viking but Wagner

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millieisawriter · 12 days ago

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Sacrum et profanum

javier escuella x reader

summary: the story of how the mexican outlaw fell for the pastor's daughter

wc: 2.5k

tw: ends with smut - loss of virginity, unprotected sex, creampie, quite a lot of religious references during the act

english isn't my first language

all pics taken from pinterest

♡this wasn't requested, but if you wish to request something you're more than welcome♡

+18 so none of yalls parents come for me

It was somewhere in Montana where Javier met you. Some little town nearby which the gang was camped. That evening when you two met was nice and chilly, you were just walking back home from a gathering with other women at the church.

Actually, the first time you didn't even talk. You possibly didn't even realize a pair of eyes was on you. But he had noticed you, it was hard not to, you were too beautiful for your own good.

Javier had met many beautiful women in the past, but none of them quite like you. He forgot half of them, if not more, after a few days or so, but he knew that wouldn't be the case with you. So he watched, silently, following you from the shadows.

Maybe it was God who urged him to talk to you the second time he saw you. The need to do it appeared in his mind almost unexpected. He shouldn't, after all, knowing it's not the best idea to start anything with a girl of a different belief.

In the following days, he tried to reason it away, telling himself that there was little to be gained in wanting a girl whose father, firstly, preached a different faith, and secondly one who surely warned you against men like Javier, considering his line of work.

But something urged him to do it.

This time you didn't come straight back home. Something made you turn your gaze towards a patch of beautiful wildflowers nearby, and you stopped momentarily just to gather some.

"Good evening." Was all he said in a greeting, but it was enough to say a lot about him. There was an accent to his voice, one that told you he came from somewhere in the Latin America.

You looked up at the man from where you were kneeling down by the flowers, and then you knew you had to be careful. Not only was he a stranger, but by the way he was dressed you could tell he was a drifter. It would be the best to not engage in a conversation with him at all, but currently you weren't really in a position to do so.

"Oh," you managed as you stood up, clutching the little bouquet of the wildflowers in your hands, "good evening, mister."

Noticing how your eyes slightly widened, he figured he could've taken a better approach. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you." He apologized as sincerely as he could.

You had no idea what this man could have wanted from you. He was too polite to intend to rob you, what you had assumed at first.

"It's allright." You replied, still trying to remain cautious, even if the man's behavior didn't fit the outlaw archetype your father would often feed your brain with. "I don't think I've seen you around before."

What made you say it? You didn't know. You didn't have to engage in a conversation with this man. You could have excused yourself out of it, and walked back home.

"Just passing through," he admitted, "excuse my forwardness, but I had to approach you. You're very... captivating." He tipped his hat, adding, "Javier Escuella."

Having learnt his name, you then proceeded to introduce yourself, not forgetting to add that you're the pastor's daughter. It seemed like Javier was studying your name as if savoring the sound of it.

You felt the urge to look away, not used to the sort of attention he seemed to be giving you, but you didn't. After all, he was rather captivating, too.

"Well, miss, it was pleasure to meet you. Mind if I walk you home?"

You faltered for a second. A stranger, a drifter on top of that and possibly one of a questionable line of work, asking to walk you home did sound a bit suspicious.

But his tone seemed sincere to your inexperienced ears. So you agreed. "No, I don't mind."

And that was how your story began. It was simple, and kind of sweet. You started sneaking around behind your family's back, making up excuses for your delayed return home, sometimes even daring to sneak out at night just to meet with Javier. So romantic, right?

You haven't been acting like yourself, really, and your family was quick to figure it out. Your father, especially. You didn't know if he assumed, or knew for certain, but he accused you of seeing a man. Maybe your sneaking out just wasn't sneaky enough.

Whatever you had with Javier, wasn't as sweet and romantic in your family's eyes as it was in yours.

"He's not a bad man, daddy!" You exclaimed during one argument.

"Then how come hadn't he come to me first?" You father asked. "A good man always asks the father for permission!"

But this didn't speak to you. Of course, that's what a good man does, but Javier was good to you regardless. To other people, however... well, he told you about the gang, what they do. Maybe what they were doing wasn't morally right, but the idea they did it all for was not that senseless. Stealing from the rich, giving to the poor (such as themselves, too). Almost noble, wasn't it?

In the evenings you met, Javier would talk about the injustices he had seen, the rich and powerful who lived untouched by the struggles of the less fortunate ones. And he spoke about Mexico a lot, too.

"Porfirio Díaz," he'd scoff, "he talks about order and progress like he's some saint sent to save us, but who's he saving? Not the people. It's all about the men with deep pockets, the hacendados who sit on their wealth while the rest of us scrape by."

Your eyes would widen, as you had always been unaware of what was happening outside of your little town, especially in foreign countries miles away.

"I had no idea it could get that bad." You'd mutter, as if trying to apologize for the actions of the bad people.

"It did get really bad," Javier would confirm, "in the mines and plantations, people work themselves to death. And the campesinos who once owned their own land, Díaz has stripped them of it all. Forced them into a kind of slavery, with debts they'll never pay."

"What about your family?"

He went silent for a longer moment everytime you'd ask about his family. Not that he didn't like talking about them. He loved them, cared about them. But talking about them could lead him to revealing a bit too much about his past, which he didn't want to happen just yet.

"I don't know, I haven't heard from them since I left." Was all he'd say, and then change the topic. "It's not that different here. Those in power look down on everyone else, like they're entitled to all the best things. Same sort of greed, the same control."

Many times you wanted to ask him why won't he go back there, the question lingering in your mind. At some point you thought maybe he just didn't want to, but why would he care if he thought America was the same?

And one time, he answered the question without you even having to ask about it. "Maybe one day this will all end and I will have a place to return to. But until then, I try to survive here with the gang, making our own justice."

You felt so attracted to his words. There was a thrill to being with someone so different, someone who believed in something beyond the rules you had grown up with. Your father's words still haunted you, though.

You knew how disappointed your father was, and that weighted on your chest like a big rock. Not like the guilt would ever stop you from continuing to sneak out.

One night when you sneaked out to meet Javier, he took you on a ride on Boaz. You two rode off to some secluded spot in a forest, stopped just by the river.

"My daddy thinks you're no good for me," you decided to confess, sitting down on the grass, "he always told me men like you are bad."

"Bad? Why bad?" Javier asked, sitting down next to you. He knew the answer, and he knew your father was right.

"You you shoot people, you steal from people, these are sins," you paused, and Javier could see you were figuring it out on your own, "but I know you do this for a good cause."

Javier leaned back, propping his arms behind him. He was aware of the sins he commits, but he knew God forgives him every time. Every man he killed or stole from, he did it in good faith, after all.

You fiddled with a blade of grass, staring down at your hands. "But... don't you fear for your soul?"

Javier replied confidently, "I believe God knows my heart. I think... I hope that God understands."

Your whole life your father had taught you about God, sin and salvation, about the strict path that must be followed without deviation. And, knowing that Javier was a catholic, you thought he'd see it in the same way. But somehow, his beliefs seemed more open, laid back, even if catholicism was supposed to be the branch of christianity more strict than protestantism.

Sensing your uncertainity, Javier reached out, touching you gently. "I don't think God cares about rules as much as He cares about our intentions, mi corazón."

For a moment, you just looked at him, letting him wash you over like the water at your feet. There was something freeing in what he said. Something human and imperfect, but deeply tender. You wondered, for the first time, if there could be a world beyond rules and judgments that you were raised with.

You turned to look at Javier, feeling warmth rise in your cheeks as you abandoned the heavy thoughts that had clouded your mind. "What does mi corazón mean?"

Javier smirked. "It means my heart. Like calling someone darling in english."

Hearing him say it made your own heart quicken. You realized you'd never felt this way with anyone before. As his fingers traced gentle circles on the back of your hand, the touch alone was enough to set aside every doubt you could've had. Javier looked at you with a softness that broke through every barrier, his gaze holding yours like a prayer.

"Is that what I am to you?" You asked, the nickname he used for you making it feel like a promise of eternal love. "You heart?"

"Sí, eres mi corazón." He answered, pulling you closer, and even though you didn't know any spanish, you understood his words well.

And then you allowed him to kiss you, but it didn't stop on that. His actions went further, his movements careful as if afraid of breaking some unspoken vow between the two of you.

You let him guide you our of your clothes, feeling some kind of holiness in his touch, as if he wanted to worship like a deity. Soon after that, he removed each piece of his own clothing too, so that there were no barriers between you.

You'd be lying if you were to state you weren't scared. But the desire you felt was stronger than your fears, even if you've never been with a man like this before.

You were a virgin.

He had you underneath himself, one of his hands supporting his body above yours, while the other gently cupped your chin, guiding your eyes to meet his.

"Don't be afraid, mi corazón, I won't hurt you." He murmured.

"Not what I worry about," you replied, "what if..." you hesitated, feeling the weight of a lifetime's worth of sermons, prayers, and your father's preaching pressing down on you. "What if I'll be condemned to hell for this? For wanting you, for...us?"

"Do you really think a God who made us so full of love would punish you for feeling it, corazón?"

He was right, you knew that. So you did something you hadn't expected yourself to do. Placing your hand on the back of his neck, you pulled him in to kiss him.

At the same time, you felt a new sensation, one so unfamiliar to your body, but one that felt so good. You couldn't help, but gasp as you felt Javier filling you up with his dick. He did it slowly, almost tentatively, as if handling something sacred. Every inch he pushed into you was like an offering for your holy self.

And to him, each sigh, each moan you gave in return was an absolution to his sinful soul. Your bodies fit perfectly together like two hands holding the same rosary.

As your head fell back, the words slipped from your lips, "Oh, God." Both sacred and sinful at the same time, both cursing you for the rest of your life, and sending you straight to Heaven in Javier's embrace.

Javier kissed these words off your lips, his hips never stopping snapping into yours, and the wetter you got, the more rapidly he could fuck into you.

The act got you wondering, why is it considered so sinful when it gives so much pleasure. You were commiting a great sin, giving yourself to a man you weren't married to, but it felt godly. Maybe that was why it was so sinful - because it was indescribably blissful, so divine. Because it made the man seem like some kind of a deity in the moment, instead of the God in the sky directly above.

If you were going to get punished for this, you didn't mind. You didn't care. You could do this a thousand times over and over again.

"Ah, fuck, I'm gonna–" Javier said, feeling himself approaching closer to the edge.

For some reason, despite this being your first time, you knew exactly what his words men. And despite everything that could happen after this, despite all the possible consequences, you once again said something you didn't expect yourself to say.

"Don't pull out," the words left your mouth almost instinctively, "I want you to fill me up."

Every part of you wanted to feel it, to take all of him without hesitation. He did as you asked, filling you up as he reached his high. You felt warmth spread over your body, starting from the center of your abdomen, reaching every place of your body like a strike of lightning, and feeling his release shoot into you made it even more intense.

You were breathless, and Javier stayed buried inside you for a moment longer after the both of you were finished, his cock like a cork stopping his seed from spilling out from your sacret grove.

"I'm starting to understand why people sin so much," you giggled.

#javier escuella #javier escuella smut #javier escuella x reader #javier escuella x reader smut #rdr2 #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 smut #red dead redemption 2 x reader #red dead redemption 2 smut #javier escuella imagine #smut #first smut

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sophieinwonderland · 3 months ago

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Reminder That System Medicalism is a Religion: Exhibit A, @theinfernalcollective

This is pretty typical sysmed rhetoric.

And in typical sysmed fashion, has no sources to back it up whatsoever! As always, sysmeds rely on an argument by assertion. Facts just aren't on their side.

Never have been, never will be.

So they give a couple sources.

First is the DSM which doesn't say trauma is needed in all cases of DID, only that it's associated with trauma. It makes no such claim for OSDD-1 being associated with trauma at all. And on top of that, doesn't even mention the word system. Which is pretty big since most endogenic systems don't have a dissociative disorder and don't claim to.

Basically, it's a nothing source that doesn't back up what they claim it does.

As for Dr Candy Fox...

There's no evidence she actually said this.

And she has yet to respond to the message I sent her website. (Because yes, I did send her a message on her site to see if she actually agreed with this.)

But based on the context, it seems pretty obvious she would have been talking about dissociative identity disorder, not "being a system."

Now, before going any further into this conversation, let's take a step back and remember The Infernal Collective asking the anon to name a single psychiatrist, obviously expecting they wouldn't be able to.

How did THAT go?

Oh right, it's how it always goes when you meet a sysmeds' goalposts!

Did you expect anything different?

"This psychiatrist saying you can be plural without trauma doesn't count because he's talking about transgender people."

"And also the screenshots of his peer-reviewed book that was published by the American Psychiatric Association are posted on a site I don't like."

So when linked to an email from a dissociative expert, someone with 40 years of experience treating dissociative identity disorder, they again retreat to just... not liking the website the image is posted on?

And again, their source for Dr. Candy Fox was just something they allegedly heard in person during evaluationMeanwhile this is an actual email, with one of the foremost DID experts in the world!

Also, for the love of the gods, Transgender Mental Health does NOT say "transgender make plurality." Actually read the thing!!!

But hey, now that I'm done with that particular conversation and got what I need to make my point, I'll confess! All these anons were me!

Reminder, again, their source was "my doctor said it, trust me bro!"

And while I only named a couple doctors over the course of that conversation, I could have dropped so many more!

The fact is, it's not hard to look at a link and read the screenshots therein. Here, I'll even post the pics!

And in case you're thinking that they just trust Dr. Candy Fox's opinion so much and hold her in such high regard...

Nope.

But then...

WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU BASING YOUR BELIEFS ON?

Because it's not psychiatry. You can't cite a single doctor anywhere who has said you can't be a system without trauma!

System Medicalism is a Religion!

Sysmeds, like transmeds, do not base their bigotry in science or rationality. They do not follow the opinions of experts.

It's a religion to them! The Church of the Holy Trauma believes that Trauma and only Trauma has the might to bestow plurality upon the few chosen. And their faith is so unshakable because they've been told this by random uneducated nobodies on the internet, and it just feels true.

And because their FAITH in this idea is so strong, no amount of studies will change their mind. No amount of doctors coming forward to support endogenic systems. No amount of literal brain scans will convince them endogenic systems are real. As the saying goes, you can't reason someone outs of a position they didn't reason themselves into in the first place.

In the end, sysmeds continue to be an anti-science hate group with a religious devotion to their ideology of hate.

And this whole disaster is just another example of that.

#syscourse #pro endogenic #pro endo #systempunk #syspunk #system punk #multiplicity #endogenic #systems #system #sysblr #plural #plurality #actually plural #actually a system

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apocalypse-shuffle · 28 days ago

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JESSE CROMEANS | CHROMESKULL & ASA EMORY | THE COLLECTOR (Laid to Rest & Chromeskull: Laid to Rest 2 | The Collector & The Collection)

—

“Romantic Call” (Jesse Cromeans x Fem!Reader x Asa Emory)

| The two of you aren’t supposed to be calling him, he’s busy, but Asa can’t be surprised about you and Jesse pushing his buttons— and Jesse knows for a fact he isn’t too mad either.

| NSFW, 18+, minors dni, established relationships, smut, porn with some plot, doggy-style, impact play, knife play, phone/facetime sex, voyeurism, competitiveness, polyamorous relationship -married!reader & slight chubby!reader

| Yea, the title is from the Patra song, tho the fic wasn’t inspired by it. (Pic source: Chromeskull: Laid to Rest 2 & The Collection)

| 2k+ words

Think about it:

Asa’s at a conference. He's interested in some of the new things his peers have done (and utterly disappointed in much more of it) but he’s really growing tired of the bumping.

He’s becoming more and more frustrated at the hordes of people running around without the good sense to watch where the hell they’re going. He developed a headache about two hours into the event and he’s feeling a little too…anxious for the setting.

Asa can keep up a good facade, prides himself on it, but this year’s attendees seem specifically suited to vex him.

He’s sitting now, legs and arms crossed, dour downturn to his lips, and eyes focused squarely on a nasty patch of scars on one of the speaker's hands. The man waves them around religiously so it’s not like they’re hard to track — they’re more interesting than his dragging spiel at least. His words are starting to grate on the last of Asa’s nerves.

At that very moment he’s actually picturing what the little patch of scar tissue would look like sewn into the skin of his forehead. Front and center. It was a nice looking set of destroyed and later rebuilt tissue.

When he feels a buzz in his pocket the man heaves a sigh, brows furrowing.

His phone is set to ‘do not disturb’, because he was a damned professional he could at least pretend to be paying attention, and he knows for a fact the only two people whose messages he set to go through are you and Jesse’s.

He had done it for emergencies only but he has a well based suspicion that the two of you aren’t remotely in any sort of peril.

He won’t admit how welcome the break from all these forgettable people and their pesky droning voices is, but he isn’t too mad about it. He excuses himself silently from the speaker area, not answering until he walks out into the main hall.

─────

“Didn’t I tell you urgent matters only?”

Jesse grins nonplussed at the harsh note of Asa’s question.

“I remember,” he lets the sharp flippant way he signs convey exactly what he thought about that stipulation to Asa before continuing, “but, Y/n, wants to show you something.”

He’s handing off the phone a second later and then you come into view. You hold the device and give him a demure smile, the upturn of your lips as soft as your voice.

“Em,” you greet — and yeah, Jesse knows Asa can’t be too mad at that. The way the creases in his forehead smooth out right after your greeting is proof enough.

“Beetle,” he greets back, sighing. His tone is curt, but one corner of his mouth does tick up in an almost smile. “What's so important you just had to show me?”

Your smile widens a bit more, eyes lighting up, and Jesse rests his hand on the small of your back when you bend over to prop the phone up against the headboard. The way he can feel the shiver going up your spine somehow manages to make him fill out even more, cock throbbing where it’s straining inside the smooth confines of his boxers.

“Just something new,” you propose, resting your head on your folded arms.

You’re both just as scarcely dressed as the other, cool air of the room sliding over your skin and hardening your nipples. Jesse’s blood still warms at the sight you make though. Back arched, ass up at a perfect height for your plush orbs to be aligned with his lowered hips.

At your angle the hand he slides to your ass is also in view of the camera, clear for Asa to see. He squeezes just to provoke the disapproving scowl that flashes across your third’s face.

You yourself laugh at it, airy and melodic, and push into his grip. The fabric of your panties is soft on his palm and he rubs idly over them while his other hand dips a little lower.

“How’s your trip?”

He rubs over the outline of your sex as you speak. The more prominent feel of cloth over your sensitive lips makes you keen and move away, but his hand snaps from your ass to your hip to hold you firm with a strong grip.

“…Interesting,” the entomologist answers after a beat.

Asa sounds irritated all over again and Jesse rolls his eyes. The man goes to a bug convention - his whole damn shtick - and you’d think he’d be living it up, but no. Jesse swears he’s never met someone so committed to being miserable.

He rubs harshly over your clit and you jerk forward.

“So— so not good?”

“Yes,” Asa nods slowly, looking away and tracking something off screen, eyes flaring briefly. “I need something to dissect. Soon, preferably.”

There’s no doubt Asa hasn’t guessed what he’s up to by now but the other man humors you regardless. Sap.

Jesse shifts and a metallic swish reverberates throughout the air. Asa’s eyes snap back to the camera and focus directly on the blade now in his hand. At the same time you twist around to gape at him.

“Eyes,” he signs harshly and you roll yours - he’ll get you for that later - but turn back to watch Asa regardless.

He chuckles, “Is he not being commanding enough, Beetle?”

You make a low upset sound at the words, not confirming or denying them.

“Don’t do that right now…” you murmur. Soft, so very like you.

Your tone is admonishing but both of them ignore you.

Jesse points the glinting blade at the screen where Asa can see it, issuing something like a warning, while using his other hand to pull the sides of your underwear from your body. All Asa does in response is scoff before otherwise backing off. At least for now.

Not wasting anymore time the killer at your back cuts your panties up the sides with jerky irritated movements, throws them to the floor, then places the flat of the blade right against your cunt where the damp curls on your mound act as a thin but plush barrier between your flushed skin and his cool metal. When you freeze the smirk that stretches across his face is mean.

“Jesse—?” You break off with a yelp, him having used the broad expanse of his palm and swung straight for your ass. “Sorry, Boss, I— what are you doing?”

He refuses to answer for a few moments, just watching as you scramble to accommodate the knife with small careful movements.

When Jesse bothers to sign next it’s not even to you.

“You know she argued with me over your surprise?”

One of Asa’s brows raise and his eyes glint with something akin to humor.

“Oh? That doesn’t sound like my Beetle. She didn’t talk back to me the last time I had her all to myself.”

Almost immediately Jesse seems to mock Asa, but by the time you catch him he's only rolling his eyes and is already diverting his attention back to you. The only indication he’d done anything more at all is the irritated scoff Asa gives.

Jesse and you lock eyes through the viewfinder on the screen and he moves the knife from your delicate bits, patting encouragingly at your thigh after putting the custom blade back into its hiding place. Silently you heed his command, pushing yourself to your knees while Jesse himself straightens to his full height in accordance with you, hiding both of your heads from Asa’s view.

After that all the two of you have to do is wait.

Jesse listens aptly for the faint intake of breath from Asa, smiling alongside you when you both hear it. Though you're the only one near vibrating with your poorly contained laughter, so excited your eyes are glittering.

On full display on the meat of your upper thigh, front and center, is a well defined skull with iridescent green beetle wings sprouting from behind it. The green and shimmer pops out beautifully on your dark skin because Jesse’d paid for an artist that wasn’t full of shit; the best money could buy in the area.

Jesse hums, grins sharp, and grazes his thumb lightly over the day-old tattoo before moving so that he can squeeze the back of your thigh with that same hand. Even grimacing your breath still hitches and you groan.

Asa’s gaze is locked fully onto your leg. He swallows thickly, his mouth opening slightly but no words coming out for more seconds than is his usual. Jesse’s grin gets worse.

The other clears his throat, something a little feral in his gaze. “It’s…lovely,” he praises, and has to clear his throat again and fight to school the arousal from his features in real time.

It was times like these Jesse almost wished he could cackle out loud.

“Mhm,” you mumble happily. Jesse bends down to kiss at your throat and you drop your head against his shoulder to give him better access. “I’m glad— ah,” you gasp as Jesse nips at your pulse, “I’m really glad you like it.”

You press yourself back into him with a shudder, thick coils brushing over his shoulder, and rake your stilettoed nails up his back hard enough to make his breath catch.

When you grind down he chuckles before turning your head so you can watch him sign.

“Needy are we?”

You huff, lashes fluttering against the tops of your umber cheeks.

“You’re taking forever, can you blame me? Will you please fuck me already? Please, Boss?” You blink up at him, pouting. “I need it.”

His cock jumps where it’s pressed on the delicate inside of your thigh and when you moan again he can’t find it in himself to deny either of you anymore. Not with his mark on you and those pleas falling past your plush lips.

You’re as receptive as ever when he falls into you, desperate and wanting, and making very good on your promise to let him “claim” you some more once you both got back from the tattoo shop.

Large hands tight on your plush hips he fucks into you just as desperately. Deep strokes that jolt you forward and have the head of his cock hitting gold every few thrusts.

Jesse grunts deep, leaning over you and bringing his scarred face closer to yours so he can look you in the eyes when you start incoherently babbling his praises. He doesn’t even have to prompt you to open them either, your lashes are damp as you meet his dark gaze the second he flattens his front to your back, and you mewl.

The two of you clash with a kiss, sloppy and barely coordinated, all lips and tongue and teeth, but he has no doubt the vision you make is affecting your audience of one. Passingly hopes that Asa’s currently sporting a hard on in front of all those academics and silently mortified by the sheer unprofessionalism.

Jesse shudders, gasps and moans silent, before pulling away and forcing your head down and your ass up. He can’t help but slap the fat of your ass and revel in the yelp you give him in response.

He’s at an even better angle now though and pistons into you hard enough to ache in the way you like complaining about even though it gives you just the excuse you want to be pampered. When your cute happy whimpers and choked moans strengthen he knows he’s well on his way to winning your orgasm and that small look on your face post coitis when you're exhausted and clingy.

It doesn’t take long after that for you to start zoning out and it takes him less than a blink to redirect his next slap to the side of your face. The startled noise you gift him quickly transforms into a deep recked moan and Jesse pounds into you even harder.

You focus back on Asa with the prettiest set of bright brown eyes, dark orbs sparkling with your tears unshed and shed alike.

“Fuck, Em,” you gasp.

“Does it feel good, Beetle? Do you like how he feels in you?”

Jesse watches your eyes roll as he rams the head of his cock into where he knows your g-spot is.

“Y-yea, yeah I do. Fucking,”— you sob—“love when he fucks my greedy cunt.”

“Mm,” Asa nods, face impassive and tone flat, but his attention glued to you. “I bet you do.”

When your eyes roll back again, your pussy clenching tight around Jesse, he can’t help but laugh through a moan of his own. The look his sometimes rival is throwing him is absolutely priceless. It promises something like a struggle when the other gets back.

You loved to watch them go at it, and per your request whoever won their little spats got to take you home during your week off. He’d lost last time but he hadn’t stopped thinking about how to get back at Asa for it.

He’d rather Princess come back from the dead and actually finish him off or Preston take over his business than admit to Asa that the loss grated. You were his wife, occasional threesomes be damned. While he held firm that week on his side of the bet, even reassuring you that it was honestly fine to go indulge yourself in Asa and The Collectors' whims, he still wanted to wipe the smug look off his buddy’s face.

Jesse would win. Even if he had to make you squirt all over your goddamn phone to do it.

He watches the arousal flit across Asa’s face every time you’re too distracted to notice, and how he grinds his teeth to tamp it down before you or anyone at the convention can see.

It’s fucking golden. And it doesn’t take the killer long after that to aim for making sure that he can ruin Asa’s life for the next two days he’s away. Rub it in his face that he won’t be able to get his hands on your dewy heated skin or get the brunt of the reverent look you give Jesse through the camera when he brings the knife back out.

Jesse would have you screaming pretty for him in no time, and the other man suffering all the more for it.

There was a reason why you didn’t (especially considering how much it riled Jesse up) call Asa anything but his fucking name in Jesse’s bed — not Professor or Prof, not his moniker, nothing — and he was going to remind the other man all about that regardless of the murderous glare he kept giving him.

Jesse pulls nearly all the way out, waits for you to whine at him and makes sure Asa can see how you continue to try pressing back on his cock despite him holding you back, then grinds his length back into your soaked cunt in one long thrust. Soaks in the drawn out way you call him Boss — not Jesse — and how you rush to thank him for fucking back into you, and bares his teeth at the burning look Asa gives him.

You start to shudder when he holds the knife to your throat, eyes rolling to the back of your head, and his fingers burrow into your plush cloud of hair to keep your head still as he can. You let him without complaint. Asa’s eyes flash and, barely audible though it may be, Jesse can feel the snarl rumbling up his chest as the squelching sounds of your cunt grow louder and you start fucking back onto him hard enough to bruise.

Yeah he was fucking winning.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!

My smut writing abilities are so-so, but I tried. This is also my first time writing both a threesome of any sort, and Jesse and Asa’s dynamic so hopefully everything registers well.

I had some slight complications so this is a repost, but I doubt anyone even saw the original bar one person so….

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

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starpunkssgalaxy · 7 months ago

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sbg headcanons pt. 2!!

- aiden steals traffic cones, he has several in his room (tyler got stuck in one of those big round ones, tripped and almost rolled into traffic if it hadnt been for logan who threw himself in front of it. taylor was also in one and wanted a pic for her social media so she convinced tyler to put one on too, thats how it happened 😭)

- ben is the type to trade shirts if the girls are feeling uncomfortable, just imagine taylor in bens baggy ass shirt and ben is wearing some cute little crop top lmaooo hes to sweet

- tyler the type to sit in the weirdest places, perfectly good chair?? nah he’s sitting precariously on an open windowsill (yes he did fall out of it once and it was actually aiden who jumped out after him because he was closest)

- when ash was little she would bring home all kinds of animals, her parents would have to search her pockets everytime she came back in from outside and they’d find all kinds of frogs, harmless snakes, bugs, baby birds (she has raised several birds)

- aiden will not move until he’s chosen music for the drive, he once stepped on a nail but refused to drive to the hospital until his bluetooth connected in the car and everyone was yelling at him

- building onto the bird thing and ashlyn, she’s befriended a murder of crows and has a ton of weird little trinkets theyve brought her because she feeds them in return

- ben has a diary/journal he religiously writes in purely with glitter gel pen. there are horrors beyond comprehension and he’s writing them all down in pink sparkly pen (ex. 🎀 𝒯𝓎𝓁𝑒𝓇 𝒾𝓈 𝒹𝑒𝒶𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐼 𝒻𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝐼 𝓂𝒶𝓎 𝒷𝑒 𝓃𝑒𝓍𝓉 🎀) LMAOO

- aiden on the other hand needs to invest in a journal because he has no filter, like much love aiden but unfortunately i dont want to hear in gross detail about what happened to you after you drank windex thinking it was gatorade

- logan’s guilty pleasure is watching minecraft videos before bed (its ldshadowlady)

- logan also owns a cat and im a firm believer in this, it’s a scottish fold and he would do anything for this cat

- girl scout cookie season comes around and Ben is SCOPING these girls out. he wants his damn cookies and hes gonna drag you everywhere w him to find them

- dont let Tyler in the kitchen alone, and its not because he lacks skill in cooking he is just so forgetful. he’s probably exploded several microwaves because he forgot to put water in w his ramen. he has so much on his plate already that he kinda gets lost in thought while in the kitchen and may burn food every once in awhile

#sbg headcanons #school bus graveyard #sbg taylor #sbg ben #aiden sbg #sbg tyler #ashlyn sbg #logan sbg #sbg (webtoon)#webtoons #maybe im projecting #these may not be in character :3c #dont ask me why aiden is driving w a nail in his foot an not someone else #shhhhh #tyler can cook obvs im just saying i think hes a little forgetful 😭

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peterspinkrobe · 1 year ago

Text

Temptation | Priest!Miguel O’Hara x femreader [part 4]

W/C: 7,1k+ Go read the other chapters

Warnings/Rating: 18+. Religious content. Some Spanish. [smut spoilers ahead lol] ~~~~~~~~~~~ Reader has a vagina. Oral (f receiving). Some overstimulation. That’s all, babe.

A/N: so so so sorry it took so long. Thank you for your patience. I got real wrapped up in the chapter and work has been working me. Looking up flower symbolism and shit. Also, turns out the Bible has smut too. The scripture quoted throughout is from Song of Songs 4-7. Let me know what you think. Pic is something I found on Google (shame)

The chill of the evening air reminded the two who stepped into it that August was bleeding into September. Change was in the wind that carried hues of summer - fluttering down from trees that were shedding their warm colors for leaves of yellow, red, and orange gradients. The sun set earlier day by day as autumn approached the little town hidden in the Catskills mountain belt.

As the sun buried itself deeper into the horizon, it cast an expanse of purples and blues on the clouds above the two making their way into the courtyard behind the church. The pair stole away, silently sneaking out a side door, while the others enjoyed their supper inside. They were accompanied only by the statues of winged angels frozen in time - pouring bowls of abundance into the garden.

Wildflowers burst from patches along the walkways as the tall man guides the follower to a bench situated beside a maple tree. He ducked to avoid the overhead branches as he sat down and invited the other to join him there.

Wild Asters sprouted on either side of the bench in large clusters, long stems shooting up petals of white and red. The one still standing admires the stark contrast between the backdrop of the natural world and the seated one’s black clothes and collared neck. No words have been exchanged since they stepped into the open air but the silent invitation of the large hand patting the open space made the other feel tingles, nonetheless.

The black clad man kept his hands in his lap and shot sideways glances at the one beside him. Their nerves caused them to bounce their knees rapidly. The silence and their nervousness was too much for the man to bear. He wanted to calm them down and reassure them that all was well. He placed his large hand on the other’s knee, halting the bobbing leg. The sudden touch caused them to look up at him into the stormy dark eyes that showed nothing but concern and curiosity. He spoke their name and the song brought them back to Earth.

__________________________________________

“Your confession last-” the deacon began, but was interrupted by your nervous apology.

“I’m so sorry that you had to hear all that. I am so embarrassed and I understand if you think I shouldn’t come here anymore. The last thing I want to do is get you in trouble or-.” This time you are interrupted by that large hand squeezing your leg gently. You look down and see the long-sleeved black dress shirt rolled up to his forearm, the muscle there too tight for it to roll up any further. The veins in his arms protrude and you trace one with your eyes that trails up his arm to the back on his hand. His palm envelopes your kneecap and the long fingers create a cage around the joint. You swallow your words and silently curse the clothes separating skin.

“Please… let me finish.” He brought his other hand to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. He sounded strained, as if he had to get the words out or he would burst. Like the things he had to say were compacted in his skull and caused pressure to build between his eyes. You fell silent again and your eyes darted between the scrunched lids of his eyes.

“Ever since your confession I have been wanting to speak with you. I tried calling after you that day but I know I must have scared you.” Fear wasn’t the primary motive for hauling ass out that church as much as it was shame, but you didn’t want to interrupt him. “And then you weren’t here on Sunday… I realize after your confession that you’re only really here for your mother, but I so wished you were here that day so we could talk face to face.” He continued slightly solemnly.

“I hated that we didn’t get to speak on your struggles further and we weren’t able to close the confession as you deserved. You need to know that I hold no judgment towards you - that session was between you and Him. Everyone's path is different and faith isn’t cookie cutter.” He was so impassioned that when his eyes finally met yours again they lit up with excitement in his explanation.

“I owed a fellow man of the church a favor and I took over his confession shift that day last week. The fact that you came to confession that day… on that day of all days. To you all that may seem serendipitous or coincidental, that you felt that strange urge to release those doubts on the day that I was in the booth, but we in the business like to call that ‘God’s Timing’.” The worry and stress seem to melt away as he talks about your interaction in the booth, very different from the reaction you were expecting. His eyes brighten when you, him, and God are being mentioned in the same breath. He becomes more animated and gestures to the expanse of nature around the two of you.”You were meant to go there that day and say those words, I was meant to be there to hear them, as we are meant to be here now in this garden.”

His chest rises and falls from the excitement he feels. He was certain that this is what is felt to be overcome with the Spirit as he had seen in other churches. For the words to fall out without filters and not hold back the faith. When he lowers his eyes to yours again there is a soft smile in them that matches the one slightly stretching his lips.

“I don’t care if you don’t believe in what I preach,” He says this suddenly and his smile slowly fades into something more serious. “It doesn’t bother me that we don’t share the same faith in Christ.”

Heavy pause follows the revelation and you dare not interrupt him, giving him the time to express himself as he did for you in the booth. The setting sun shines rays into his eyes and they reflect back deep amber irises. Their brilliance bounces across your face like he is studying every inch of it - as if your countenance were a difficult passage in Numbers to interpret.

When he speaks again, you find that you aren't as drunk in the music of his voice. The notes are grounding and almost meditative.

“But what worries me is that you don’t share the same faith in yourself that I do. That you don’t see yourself as worthy of blessings when you are a blessing yourself.” The light chill in the air can’t keep the heat from creeping up your chest and neck. His tone became lighter as he went on.

“You are more than deserving of good things. I know our internal thoughts make us feel otherwise, but I need you to know that what they say to you isn't the truth. We all have personal demons that make us question ourselves.” He tilts his upper half more towards you and his large shoulders jut against the backdrop of maple branches and stirring leaves.

Slowly, so slowly, he slides his hand centimeters up your leg so it’s resting more on your thigh.

“I must also confess that I…” He inhales sharply and releases the words with his exhale, “I’m fighting against every urge in my body to maintain myself when I’m around you.” His brows furrow lightly as his other hand comes to cup your chin again, like he had that first time you’d met. The voice is now the smoky room of a jazz club reverberating lowly in the small distance between the two of you.

“Trying to uphold the principles that have nearly been beaten into me when you are in the same room,” he starts to lean in, “you don’t even have to be in the room, mí vicio, for temptation to threaten the sanctity of my profession.”

He tenses ever so slightly, you feel and hear the hesitation in his touch and voice.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, or abuse my position..” he starts to pull his hands away, but you quickly grab his hand on your leg and grip his wrist to hold him there. His eyes widen at your response and his mouth hangs open slightly. A pointed canine dipping into his plump bottom lip as you move his hand to cup your cheek.

He brings his face to yours and looks into your eyes again before his stubborn raising escapes his lips, attempting to put his faith before pleasure, “Tell me to stop… tell me we can’t do this.” He presses his lips together and turns his head away a little. The anguish in the words makes you think he might crumble from the war in his mind.

You respond by closing the rest of the gap and pressing your lips onto his cheek. There is an evening shadow of hairs that poke into the soft kiss. He brings his eyes forward to lock back with yours and your noses bump together. Your breathing mixes and his shoulders rise and fall heavily and it seems as if he’s bracing himself with the grip on your leg. The temptation of just being close to you causes his lips to tremble.

“I don’t think you’ll burn in hell if we kiss,” you try to lighten his tension some and he does chuckle as you feel the shaky breathing on your cheeks.

“Funny.” He quips, but he doesn’t say aloud that he’s already burning. His insides are on fire at the feeling of you in his hands. He knows his soul is doomed if fantasy is enough to condemn. He’d burn for the images he’s pictured of you, the positions his imagination puts you in, and for the way his body is reacting to your permissive responses now. The fact that you want this as much as him makes holding back more difficult.

The anticipation that hung from your pout was too much for him and he whispered to himself before pulling your chin up and kissing you.

Just a press of lips against lips. They brushed against each other as your noses moved to accommodate for the space removed. That first kiss was brief, an innocent expression of the brewing affection between you. Yet, it was laden with complex emotions. A small jolt of electricity sparks from Miguel's chest at the kiss and his heartbeat echoed like a drum in his chest.

He was taken aback at how the simple, sweet kiss had made his head spin and when your lips parted he saw your eyes reflecting desire in their haze. Your eyes closed again and allowed your lips to guide the way.

The two of you traded little pecks and pleasure courses through his body. His hand from your knee now held your right hip and the cupped palm now snaked behind your neck and held your head to his as he deepened the kiss. It was harder to hold back as the deacon’s lust, his want, his desire, was too strong. He peaked down through slitted lids at your hands holding the chest of his shirt in fists and grunted against your closed mouths.

Unadulterated passion overwhelmed him and he poked the tip of his tongue to your lips in request. In those cold showers he had taken to try and control his thoughts, he had instead sinfully prayed to feel the inside of your mouth with his tongue, his fingers, and his currently tented dick. Your receptiveness made him nearly whine when you opened your lips in invitation. The buzz in his brain made him lose his inhibitions as he greedily licked into your mouth. He explored your slick cheeks and your tongues clashed together in their first meeting.

As your tongues danced between your mouths, you found that you were the one having to pull away for breath. Father Miguel’s face had reddened from lack of oxygen since he was prioritizing kissing you inside of breathing. His eyes would open halfway, his eyebrows would knit together in a pleading manner, and his pursed lips were swollen when you pulled away. Strands of his dark hair dangled into his forehead. The desperation on his face and in his grip on you was certainly a sight to behold. It was alluring that he was so affected just by kissing, you imagined just how sensitive he must be. It would be a lie to say you weren’t also feeling warmth pool in your belly at the exchange of kisses. You held his face in your hands and your bodies pressed against each other when he wrapped his arms around you. His voice dripped with yearning as he spoke:

“Let me show you how worthy you are…”

The words were a whisper in the wind, a secret kept by the rustling leaves, but they held a vow he intended to uphold.

_______________________________________

Getting away from your mother was surprisingly easy. She was wiped from cooking and everyone was shooing her home, telling her they would handle the clean up. The only real clean up was from the dishes they had dirtied as she had done most of the kitchen keep up as she cooked.

You should’ve been tired too but your mind still whirred from the excitement earlier. The promise of another rendezvous had you eager to volunteer in the clean up. Your mother looked at you again with pride when you told her to go on ahead and that you’d meet her home later after finishing here. If only she knew your true intentions.

Getting Father Miguel away from his parish was another story. You were washing your hands in the kitchen sink as the last of the trash was being taken out. Discretion was attempted as you stole glances at him helping others with their things and wishing them a blessed evening. At one point he catches your eye and his conviction nearly crumbles, but to you he maintains his composure. He gives you the aforementioned signal of a nod and shaky smile and you dry your hands before excusing yourself from one of the church members on your street. You make it seem as though you’re leaving for the night, but head towards the opposite end of the hall when the dining room door closes behind you.

You try to keep your nerves together as you enter the room on the far left end. You try not to think about Father Steen’s name on the door. You try not to hear the innocent farewells and blessings from the other side of the church. You try to look away from the surrounding symbols of sacrifice for sins you were actively committing. You try to calm yourself and your racing mind as you settle in the chair opposite to the one at the desk.

Curiosity temporarily overtakes your other worries when you crane your neck to see the pages that are open on the desk in front of you. It’s obvious what book it is but it’s hard to tell what chapter given it’s upside down, eleven size font, and single-spaced.

You don’t notice the noise completely dying down in the other room as you scan the office. You’ve never actually been in this office so you don’t know what belongs to Father Steen or the deacon. You do recognize the Catholic vestments that were worn by the elder but there was one you hadn’t seen that was separated from the others.

You could tell as you approached that it was much more fancy than the humble ones worn by either of the church heads. Its red satin underside was soft and silky against your inquisitive, yet careful, fingertips. The emerald green top portion was trimmed and detailed in intricate golden lacework. Embroidered red and white flowers weaved with golden stems and darker woven patterns accentuated the colors even further. It was sturdy and seemed handmade as you held the matching stole that hung from the hook beside it.

A knock on the door brought you back to reality and you murmured a ‘come in’. Funny how he was knocking to come into his own office.

He opened the door and walked through the threshold - the top of his head not even an inch away from the frame of the door. He saw you standing by the robes and smiled. He approached you and looked at the robe with you, feeling the fabric himself.

“This chasuble is a Spanish cut. It came from the priest that ran an orphanage in the city and it was a gift to me when he passed.” There’s reverence in his voice as he explains the importance of the robe, and the true weight of the words doesn’t go unnoticed to you. There’s still so much you didn’t know about him.

“Obviously it’s way too fancy for regular service but I always carry it with me. Bring it out for weddings and Easter. Best part? It’s got pockets.” You share a laugh as he wiggles his fingers in a hidden pouch along the inner lining on the front of the robe. He wiggles his eyebrows as well making you laugh more. The sound of it makes him beam at you and you can’t help but feel whiplash from the range of expression he’s given in such a short time.

From a near blubbering mess just from your lips, to this coy attitude now after congregating with his congregation. That tingle returns to your gut at his confident smile and you think of what was going through his mind when you left to come into the office. Did he watch you leave as he shook hands and embraced his newfound flock? Did he feel any impatience with the others who hung on his words? Did he have a change of heart and is attempting to let you down gently? You understood that this was a big No-No in his vocation… maybe post-kiss clarity and being surrounded by the ones trusting his judgment was making him have second thoughts.

Your doubts cause you to speak up, unfortunately spoiling the upbeat mode but you had to make your concerns known.

“I don’t want to make you do something you’ll regret.” His smile fades at the comment as you continue, “you could lose your job.”

He turns towards you from the garments you were admiring.

“Think of the consequences…” you stamper as listens to you, “you could lose the influence and respect you have amongst your fellow brothers in preisthood.” You brace yourself on the chair behind you as you slowly back up past it. He follows you closely.

“Breaking your vows would be a sacrilege.” Your back hits the desk but the deacon still approaches you. “You could be cast out.”

His hands are on your hips and face and your breathing quickens as he leans in, his voice a husky whisper, “For a nonbeliever, you’ve really done your research.”

You know his cocky demeanor is only temporary; when you start kissing again he’ll be back to incoherence. It doesn’t stop you from blushing up at his towering frame.

“Are you sure you want this? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable…” he says and starts to pull away as he had before, so careful not to overstep. Again you put your hands on his chest and it takes everything in you not to squeeze the muscular pecs stretching the front of his shirt.

“I want this. So badly. What I don’t want is you feeling guilty. I know what I want but I also know what is right. I don’t want to be the cause of any turmoil or strain in your spirituality. I’ve caused too much wrong to be the reason you break sacred vows important to you.” You both cling to each other against the desk.

“How could I regret this?” He asks so quietly it’s like he’s asking himself, or silently asking God. “Are matters of the heart to be ashamed of?” The storm in his eyes brewed at the idea of even having to explain himself and his feelings to someone above him in the church. For a man who has never been married, never seen God in the loving embrace of another, to try and tell him what love couldn’t be. How could he be expected to turn away from the act of God placed before him now? How do those in the church not see that to love Him, to truly flourish in His image, is to cherish and admire His other creatures? He scans your face and the hand there moves to gently hold your hands on his chest. How badly he wished to banish any doubt clouding your mind.

“I don’t know how else to explain it other than I have developed a deep connection and affection with you and I wish to learn more, so much more.” His breathing is slightly ragged and you feel the rise and fall under your hands. “Your confession, if you still feel the same, makes it nearly impossible for me to deny this anymore.”

“I cannot deny my feelings and continue to serve the church in a capacity that forbids me from you.” You’re speechless at the words and the abrupt honesty. “I’m making these decisions with my eyes wide open.”

“Deacon, I-“ you begin, but he cuts in to say,

“Please, call me Miguel. Not sure how much longer I’ll be a Deacon after this gets out…” He can’t hold back now that you’re alone so he kisses you because he can. Because there is nothing to hold him back from doing so, and your lips feel so good pressed to his. Hearing you say his name causes a low groan to come from his throat and he parts when you frantically protest against his lips.

“What do you mean? No, no one can know! Not yet… oh my god what would my mom think?! She’d believe I corrupted you, and I have, haven’t I?” Your nervousness and the fact that you were more afraid of the judgment from your mother than that of God Almighty made him chuckle again as he nuzzled into your neck and laid kisses up to your ear.

“Corruption and change are not the same. You have brought about a change in me. While I no longer feel I am the same man I once was before meeting you, I am happy for it.” He moves a hand slowly up your back to cradle your head and he feels like King Solomon taking his Queen to bed in Song of Songs as he kisses your neck.

Your neck is like the tower of David,

built with courses of stone;

on it hang a thousand shields,

all of them shields of warriors.

“Please,” He whispers into your ear and takes the lobe between his lips in a tease, “let me reveal my devotion to you.”

Your only response is your fingers entwining in his hair and a gasp, but it’s enough for him to capture your lips again. This time he wastes no time easing your mouth open with his tongue.

Your lips drop sweetness

as the honeycomb,

milk and honey are under your tongue.

He hasn’t had a woman in his arms like this is such a long time. Excitement overcomes him and his hands aren’t sure where to rest on your body. He wants to learn you only by touch. Allowing himself to be led blindly by faith in your embrace. He cups your breasts over your shirt and moans open mouthed into the kiss. You mewl at the abandonment of restraints you both had been holding yourselves back with. You’re not too lost to the feeling of his hands sliding back down and under your shirt. He traces your spine up and down and grabs at newfound flesh.

“You’re skin… tan suave.” He’s breathless again from the frenzy of kisses and touches he’s covering you in. He nearly loses it wondering how soft the rest of you was. The thought brings his fingers to your bra and he undoes the clasp there. He pulls away to see them fall slightly and his teeth dig into his bottom lip and he nearly growls before pulling your shirt up to reveal the loosened bra still veiling your breasts. His eyes are hungry, but he still asks, “May I?”

You’re frustrated at how long this is taking. Usually this sort of thing is a quick ordeal without all this checking in. You take a deep breath and remind yourself who you’re dealing with. You reassure him with a curt, “No more asking.”

Something snaps in his brain and he’s pulling your bra off and quickly replacing the cups with his own hands. He massages them both, lifting them lightly to feel their weight and admiring how your nipples react to the exposure to air and his fingers. The theories of intelligent, immaculate design are confirmed to him as he gazes at them and appreciates them.

At first, you’re on edge about the intensity in his eyes as he looks over you. Then you realize that you don’t know the last time he’s been with someone and that you just aren’t used to time being taken on you. You attempt to regulate your breathing and relax but when he gently tweaks the buds of your breasts between his large fingers your back arches.

He nearly drools at the sight of your body’s reaction and brings the hardened nipple into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the tip and caught it in a suckle. You moan and the last thing he sees before your shirt drops over his head is you tossing your head back. He grins devilishly and grazes his teeth over the sensitive nub before moving to give the other some attention. He doesn’t leave it unattended for long when his fingers run his remaining spit over the delicate pucker.

You pull your shirt up and off, discard it somewhere in the room. You couldn’t go any longer without the enticing image of his face in your chest. His lips parted briefly from your right tit so he could mumble, “Dios, me encantan tus tetas…”

The praise and slightly blasphemy of the Lord’s name used in marvel of your body made your head spin. His free hand gripped your hip, then the flesh of your back, ghosting over your soft belly. His fingertips then slip into the hem of your pants and trail fire in their wake. You buck your hips involuntarily and ignore the dig of the desk in your back side.

He pulls away to see your face and the feedback your body gives him. He accepts it eagerly and continues to tease and pull at your pantyline while pinching and pulling at your nipples.

“Please, Miguel-,” The breathlessness in your voice and the flush of your face makes his already hard dick twitch in the restriction of his pants. His name in that sweet, needy tone made him moan out a ‘yeah?’

“I need you.” Your eyes are glazed from the pleasures he’s bestowing upon you. A sheen of sweat shines on your bare chest from the heat of the moment. Your body is on fire and this is only second base. The sensitivity levels of you both were turned up high, but maybe the taboo of it all was causing such an intense reaction. Or maybe you were feeling the same fervent connection he revealed to feel for you. The same string pulling you to one another.

Any resemblance of control fell away from him completely at your pleading pout. His lips crashed down onto yours again and an image of you he’d had in his mind many times flashed and he knew what you needed.

His hand swiftly unbuttons your jeans and the sound of the zipper is in slow motion as he inhales your breathy moans and pleas. His hands move to either side of you and he peels the denim off your burning skin.

He pulls away from you and looks in your eyes as he begins to lower himself. He kisses every inch of newly revealed skin. You’re suddenly feeling slightly self-conscious because you haven’t had a need to do any sort of landscaping for a while. This hadn’t exactly been planned. You look down at your nearly naked body and blush at how he is still completely clothed. You see the dance of his curls as he pulls the jeans off your feet. Then he’s on his knees.

This man of God, in his uniform of black with the white collar slightly askew, knelt before you as if you were an altar to pray to. His hands roamed from your ankles up to your thighs and then down your backside. He squeezes the flesh all over and they never truly settle in one place. He’s intent on learning each curve and dedicating every mole to memory. He catches your eyes and is emboldened by the lust in them so he leans up to press kisses along your abdomen. He murmurs against your tummy at how beautiful you are and how you can stop him at any time. Then, his fingers are hooked around the sides of your panties and he begins to slide them down.

He can’t help but take his time. There were a couple reasons. The first was this was simply too amazing to rush. He’d been in situations like this, and knowing what was coming next excited him. Pulling you out your jeans and spreading your legs brought wafts of your scent into his nose. The aroma was robust and earthy and it drew him in as your panties came down. It had been so long… the smell of your heat made him nearly light-headed but he inhaled deeply. He couldn’t get enough. He had to taste you.

Your panties were still around your knees when he buried his face into your pubic hair and took a deep breath in. You nearly buckled in embarrassment but his arms wrapped around your legs to bring you to his face even more so. He hugged your crotch for a moment and the smells went straight to his cock. It’d been so long since he’d been presented with such a pretty pussy and he had to appreciate the moment.

He pulls you out your panties the rest of the way and pushes you back against the desk. The back of his hand presses to your inner leg and you oblige him by spreading them both for him to get a better look. He sighs as he sits back on his heels and admires the image that has been in his mind for the last couple weeks. The offering of your own communion already glistening from the heavy petting and kissing is more captivating than his imagination could ever be. He paws at the hardness in his jeans and takes a mental image for later.

Motivated by the hunger in his eyes and the way his eyes move in the need to see it all, you start to lose the voice in your head that makes you worry about your body. You bring your hand down and spread your lips a little for him, a little moan escaping you. He nods as if being given instruction and wordlessly brings his mouth to you.

You cry out his name from the touch of his lips to your sensitive flesh. He’s simply kissing the parts you presented to him so graciously. You lean back and brace yourself more on the desk as his hands come up to massage your inner thighs. He moves lower and looks up at you before dragging his tongue slowly up from your seeping pussy to your clit. Your hips buck again and he grins deviously.

The grin and his lewd teasing showed a transformation in the man, as if this part of him laid dormant just beneath the surface of sacredness. His eyes seemed to shift to an alarming red in the lighting. His fingers dug into you like claws. His teeth seemed more pointed when he flashed those wicked grins up at you. He was the one on his knees, but he was the dominant force.

He brought his hands to his new heaven and spread the pearly gates with his thumbs. He blew gently on the exposed, heated skin and you whined from the lack of friction.

Blow on my garden,

that its fragrance may spread everywhere.

Let my beloved come into his garden

and taste its choice fruits.

The stretch of your legs and the wetness that shone between them looked so inviting. He massaged his thumbs up and down, rubbing your lips together and then apart again. His mouth watered at the sight and he licked his lips.

“You’re so wet for me…” he breathed the words before plunging into your waters. The tension, teasing, and time carefully taken on you had driven you crazy but the satisfaction of his tongue on your clit drove you mad. You arched your back and placed your hands on his broad shoulders, the pleasure bringing you to smile and moan in delirium. No longer were you worried about his job, the way you looked, or if he was interested in you as much as you were into him. He was definitely proving that now as he at you out like his last supper.

You surmised that he had to have had some kind of experience with this as you gawk at the expert movements of his tongue. At first, he prodded with the relaxed muscle to test the waters. Now, he was buried into you up to his nose. His tongue would flatten when he wanted a wider range of flavor and you’d feel the large pad lapping you up. Then he would tighten it and drag circles around your clit, sometimes licking into your tightness as if he were starved. He took note of how your body twitched when he pushed his tongue inside you to taste the velvety smoothness of your tight walls. He saw how you jerked with too much stimulation on your delicate bud. He groaned at the sight of your body moving above him, the way your hair hung in your face. The vibration of his convulsing tongue inside you as he groans makes you toss your head back and chant Miguel, Miguel,…

Fueled by the mantra of his name, Miguel goes back to swirling around your clit. He decided his tongue isn’t long enough to feel as deep inside you as he’d like and pushes his middle finger into you halfway. The promise of penetration causes you to grind on the finger and consequently onto his face as well.

He’s sometimes closing his eyes as if he’s in prayer while consuming communion. But the buck of your hips and your weight shifting down on him made his eyes snap open so he could watch your immodesty through lustful eyes. He pulled as you pushed, maintaining the single digit only halfway. He wanted to take his time feeling you and becoming acquainted with what you had so graciously offered to him. When he pulls away from you to speak, the sight of his puffy lips and chin shining with your wetness nearly makes you fall forward.

“Be patient, please,” his voice drips with desperation, “it’s been so long.”

You let out a low whimper but complain no further when he wraps his lips around your clit again and starts moving his finger inside you deeper, finally. You arch your back and your fingers entangle in his hair.

Your light pulling on his hair pulls another moan out of him and he can’t help but rub the underside of himself as he pleasures you. Your wet noises make him want to bathe in your scent and sleek walls. Your moans make his cock twitch in his tightening pants. He flattens his tongue on your swollen clit and languidly licks around and at it directly. He greedily adds another finger so he can gauge just how tight your opening is, but has to ease it in slowly as you cry out.

“Ooh, so tight.. so wet..” He murmurs against your slick as he wiggles the two fingers inside you. “Todo para mí?” This could easily be interpreted as coy, but the tone is earnest. He truly feels blessed with the gifts you’ve so graciously given. He flicks the tip of his cock over the pants as he sweeps his fingers to graze a particularly delicate spot inside you. As soon as his fingers touch that bumpy groove you see stars in your vision. The direct stimulation to your most sensitive space and this new sensation was nearly overwhelming.

“Miguel, ‘s too much.” You pant and attempt to push him off for some reprieve.

He lifts his head with worry in his eyes. His fingers straighten and pump inside you at a grudgingly slow pace. The slightly sweaty strands of hair stick to your thighs as he gently rests his head on it. Leaning on his devotion.

“I just want to make you feel good.” His eyes trail back to watch the way your pussy clings to his fingers when he pulls them out slowly. He seems entranced with the way you stick to his fingers even when they aren’t inside you. You look down to watch the lewd scene and see just how hard his cock is and how he’s got a grip on it through the clothes he’s still fucking wearing. “As good as you make me feel.”

You melt at the words and when his thumb comes up to press around your glistening pearl. He slid it across the top, just above the screaming bud, as if flipping through the thin pages of the Good Book. He ghosted over the area you found tried and true when you were doing this alone and your body, your voice let him know.

He slides his fingers back inside, unable to hold back any longer. His pace is shaky at first, but becomes stable again.

“Mmm, is that good for you?” He begins rubbing small circles in the spot you so beautifully inclined him towards. You nod and moan in response and then he asks you something that nearly knocks you off the table:

“Will you please cum for me?” He asks between heavy breaths that feel warm on your slit. He wondered how you looked, felt, smelled, sounded, and moved when you orgasmed. When he first placed that wafer in your mouth he wanted to be the reason that it happened. He wanted his name to be the one you called out. “Fuck, I need you to…” the curse and the words from the holy man made your insides twist and burn. The steady driving into your core and thumb on that sweet spot causes you to close your eyes and roll your hips with the rhythm.

He says your name and your eyes snap open again.

“Look at me.”

The way his large body slumps between your legs and the background of Catholicism surrounding the two of you hits a dirty switch in your brain and you’re nearing the edge. He can tell by the tightening of the muscles in your thighs and the way they nearly straighten out to give yourself more purchase.

“Just like that. You’re so close aren’t you, tell me.” You cry out a yes!! through your gaped mouth.

“Cum f’me, please. Cum for me just like this. Just for me.”

The words, the perfect pace of his fingers, the way he’s looking up at you… you reach your climax and fight to keep your eyes open as he asked.

Through your lashes you see that he’s grinning up at you. Your slick still on his mouth and stringing between his lips. The type of grin that shouldn’t be on a priest’s face. That’s two things that shouldn’t be on his face now as he licks around his pumping fingers to devour the flow of juices he’s poured out of you.

Your thighs clench around his head and your body spasms, he pulls his mouth away to look up at you between the trap of your thighs.

“Yesss, just like that you look so good. Such a good girl.” He mumbles with a mouth full of your slickness.

He moves his thumb off the hood of your pulsing nub to not overstimulate you, but his fingers remain inside you. The way you pulsed and squeezed around him mesmerized him. He matched the pulses to the grip on his length in a futile attempt to simulate the intoxicating spasms brought onto you by just his hands.

He tries to memorize the heartbeat of your warm burrow as it begins to ease on your come down. He’ll try to emulate the sensation later - on himself - but he knows and dreads the fact that it would not compare to the readied womanhood presented to him. He bites his bottom lip and groans.

You notice how he holds himself and you can’t pull your eyes away from the tent he’s holding back in his pants. Your arms, still a little shaky, move down and you grab his face. You pull a little and he obliges and stands again. He snakes his large arms around your naked body and doesn’t seem to care about any mess you might leave on him. You pull his face to yours and kiss him. His puffy lips are warm against yours and when your tongues touch you taste yourself and feel another coil form in your gut. You pull away and tell him, in a raspy voice,

“I need you. All of you. Please?” Encouraged by your orgasm, you reach your hand down to grab the erection that’s been begging for you.

He hissed your name through his teeth at the sensation and grabs your wrist. He was already embarrassingly close to his own orgasm after having watched you and toyed with himself. Your grip on him made his knees nearly buckle.

His protest made you worry and your arm seized in its place. You let go of him and stare up into his eyes to see where you went wrong with him.

“What’s wrong, Miguel?” The concern in your voice makes him bore his eyes into yours.

“Nothing, no, nothings wrong. You did nothing wrong. I do want this, oh God, you don’t know how badly…” It’s almost as if he’s gasping the words. Your touch, it set him on fire. But, he didn’t think he should, or could, have you the way he really wanted. Not now. Not here. “There’s something you should know. It’s not embarrassing for me, but it’s important you know.”

The seriousness in his tone has you scanning his face for any more information. He says your name and then reveals the truth and you’re left speechless. His tone is matter of fact, the words shocking.

“I’m a virgin.”

You are a garden locked up;

you are a spring enclosed,

a sealed fountain.

Taglist: IT WONT LET ME TAG MORE THAN 50 I’m crying I’m so sorry I’ll try commenting tagging the rest

@soniajustneedssimping @venusisajpeg @cassidysbbg @haveclayeveryday @fishtail111 @sirbird @thecrowstears @elizzybeth-2005 @tayleighuh @crispypugfs @trashcansally @cheezit-luv3rr @marsout @eliiilamar @hamuuko @jagawriterr @oharaswifexx @limenysnocket @xthejazzdalorianx @y0mill @livingmeat @stranded-dream @its-oevy @be-be-la-la @jxylxx @usagijoestar @queenofroses22 @zaunsin @ceoofmiguel @otomebois @fairycwhores @killakungfu-wolfbitch @buffalolover10177 @jaywalksalloverme @jalxnnie @deepinballs @vomitsama @aurora-burrow @wlalspj @tieonatrenchcoat @cicato @firstghostempathtaco @yallhearsm @mumbi-222 @carmenxhuuuu @dv-ocean-blog @multi-fandom-chick-blog1 @jellybeansupmyass @cheyjellyfish @elyissly @laikve @coffeejellypng @staycgoindown @variouslyalloya @redflame5975 @botchedlove @thatoneenchilada @buck-uwu @donnie-spectacular

Chapter 5? It might take some time tho…

#fanfic #miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #priest!miguel #miguel x reader #priest au #miguel x you #atsv smut #finally!#sorry lol #chapter 4

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