#buckyisdisabled

[the-force-awakens]

“I have the feeling that you’re trying not to kiss me and I give you permission to just do it.” + poe 🥺

gender neutral reader; got a little more hurt/comfort than I was really aiming for but hey. happy endings. making out. wall kisses. I think that balances it out nicely.

“You are kriffin' insufferable, has anyone ever told you that?”

Poe can think of at least a dozen people offhand, but they're insignificant at the moment, when you've backed him up against a wall, jabbing your finger into his chest as you continue going off on him; anger stoked solely for each time he comes back from a mission where he was a little more reckless with his life. 

You're still gesticulating wildly, but Poe can see when the switch flips in your head, when all the frustration you keep for him fades from an all-consuming fire fueled by fear, to the low-level exasperation that you always have towards him.

He can also see the exact moment you realize you've essentially shoved him against a wall, caging him in with your own body: your gaze darkens, breath coming out shallower and more quickly - not that he's doing much better.

“I came back,” Poe whispers softly, fingers catching at your hip to pull you closer, now that you've run out of words. “I always come back.”

You make a plaintive noise low in your throat. “I know. I know you do. But you could…be a little more careful.”

“I don't do anything I don't think I'll survive,” Poe says. He can't promise to be more careful, not with your respective lines of work, but he can offer you that modicum of truth. Everything he does, he's confident will work out in his favor. 

And he can see the argument that's rising up within you at that, can already hear you pointing out all the times he's gotten in over his head because of his certainty things will work in his favor - 

But at the last minute, it dissipates and your shoulders sag a little. You shift closer to him, a new kind of heat in your eyes that Poe vastly prefers, brought on by your closeness and the adrenaline. 

“Okay,” you whisper, conceding, while your eyes dart between his mouth and his eyes and back down again, like now that you're no longer distracted by worry you're distracted by him. 

It never fails to thrill him, the way he has that effect on you. Can't help the grin that rises up across his face, lighting up his eyes and crinkling them at the corners. “I have the feeling that you're trying not to kiss me, and I give you permission to just do it.”

You level him with a look over his faux innocent tone, severe enough that Poe thinks he's misjudged the time to joke but then it evaporates as you grip him by the collar and haul him down to greedily press your lips against his. 

Poe's arms snake around your waist, drawing you even closer and maker if that isn't his favorite part about kissing you after a mission: because despite his heart fluttering, warmth suffusing every one of his veins and begging for release, this is the moment when his body finally knows it's safe, that he can relax and not be on alert.

It's the moment he knows he's finally home. 

#poe dameron x you #poe dameron x reader #buckyisdisabled #myfic #someday i might use a different gif of him. today isn't that day.

[hermitmoss]

faramir & eowyn for the Tolkien character bingo

Faramir: their aesthetic is [chef's kiss]; assigned queer by majority vote; the best take on them only exists in my head; I'll change my hair headcanon when I'm dead; call me a movie theater there's so much projection here; all time best character ever written

Éowyn: they did crimes and I love them for it; their aesthetic is [chef's kiss]; assigned queer by majority vote; too popular, not criticized enough

#TY MACK #answered #* #tolkien #lotr #faramir #eowyn #death mention // #buckyisdisabled

[elivanto]

dude that episode where they lost Carter was so [emotional damage] I've never been the same 😭

I KNOWWW i cried so hard i had a stuffy nose for two days lmao i tear up just thinking of it 😭 and the show just wasn’t the same without her 😔

#ask #buckyisdisabled

[zinzinina]

okay I'm not sure I'd you're still doing the uh. thing where you write a scene from a different pov but if you are and have time/interest, would you feel like doing poe pov with that part in directions where he asks how many other guys she's been with? I love love love that fic so much btw and I'm gonna go through your masterlist when I get off work <3

Hello! ✨ A little confession: some of these have been sitting in my inbox for months. I secretly didn't plan on fulfilling this request because it meant that I'd need to go re-read Directions, and I very rarely read my own writing again once it's been posted. But I was in the mood for something fun and easy, and then I actually had a great time revisiting this story! So thank you so so much @buckyisdisabled, @lostinwonderland314, @mandaloriandin and sweet Yearning Human anon for asking for this and for your lovely messages. I really hope you have as much fun reading it as I did writing it x

Pairing: Poe Dameron x F!Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Rating: Explicit 18+

Warnings: PIV, creampie, oral sex (f! receiving), fingering, squirting, feelings, implied cum eating, overstimulation, masturbation, friends to lovers

This is reworking of a scene from this fic, told from Poe’s POV.

from a certain point of view ask game ✨

———

———

Poe sucks his slick fingers into his mouth, and her taste hits his head like spice; sharp and sweet.

She pants up at him from his pillow (his pillow) her eyes wide as a nervous animal’s, her hands curled into fists. It takes everything he has not to blow his load in his pants right then and there.

He feels a little drunk. He needs to course-correct.

Drastically.

He’d meant it when he told her he thought this would be fun. Because everything is, with her. He thought she’d be giving him shit the whole time. He’d expected her to be unimpressed with him in the way only she ever is; doing what she does best and keeping his feet nailed to solid ground even while his head did tailspins around the sound of her laughing at him. 

But she’s not laughing at him. The way she’s looking up at him…

This, right here, is extremely fucking serious for her.

Maybe he should’ve tried to make this nicer. Maybe he should’ve lit candles.

For reasons that are not entirely clear, he catches himself remembering a particularly fucked up day from several months back. His comms and tracking had both shorted out after a hit in the middle of an above-planet dogfight with no visual, and for about two hours, the Resistance network listed him PKIA. 

When he’d eventually landed back in the hanger, it was chaotic with smoking, twisted astromech parts. Unbeknownst to him, Black One was a ghost ship. 

Mechanics and pilots alike had turned and gaped in silent shock as he’d climbed out of his cockpit, and he’d only had a moment to wonder whether there was something growing out of the top of his head before he’d been knocked off his feet by a sobbing projectile stinking of sweat and smoke in an oil-stained flightsuit.

She’d only stopped crying after socking him in the chest, her voice hoarse as she told him how much of an idiot he was for not switching over to his backup signal.

He’d never wanted to see that look on her face ever again, and if he hadn’t pushed her into verbalising the source of her terror here, he’d be too turned off to go any further. He doesn’t go in for that shit; he wants his partners relaxed and comfortable and enthusiastically willing.

But it’s knowing what she’s actually worrying about—stuck in her head as always, thinking about everyone else; what he thinks of her, rather than focusing on how she feels—that makes him determined to stick with her, as long as she says. 

He’s staggered by the amount of trust she’s putting in him. Shit, he doesn’t know whether it makes his heart ache more, or his dick. Like she has anything to be nervous about. Like she isn’t the prettiest fucking girl he knows. Like making her smile isn’t the single greatest source of pride he gets to hold over himself. 

Doesn’t she know? Can’t she already fucking tell? He’d worship the ground she walks on if he knew she wouldn’t laugh herself sick at him if he tried. 

It would be funny, if it weren’t so painful. That for all of her quick, sharp perception, she’d miss this, so entirely.

“Perfect. You’re perfect,” he says softly, and he can see how little she believes him. “Told you. Nothing wrong with you. I wanna try something,” he continues, before she can say anything to piss him off. He can handle her putting shit on him. He isn’t letting her do it to herself. “You’ll like it, I promise. And if you don’t just tell me and we’ll stop. Okay?”

“Okay,” she says, nodding, her eyes still huge. A sudden throb of affection makes his head feel like it’s filled with tibanna gas. 

“I’m gonna take your pants off,” he tells her, grasping each of her ankles to do exactly this.

She lifts her ass toward him as he wriggles her underwear and pants over her legs, giving him a brief glimpse of the most beautiful view he’s ever seen in his life.

His brain’s still catching up when he sees the furtive way her eyes keep flicking down toward where it feels like his dick’s trying to bust through his fly.

“Don’t you want…?” 

“It’s not about me,” he cuts her off. And if you touch me right now I won’t make it, and I’ll ruin my reputation, and kill any chance of living any of this shit down with you ever again, he decides not to add.

He bends, spreading her legs with both hands. Her clit’s so swollen her labia are parted around it, the soft skin inside her thighs smeared with her first orgasm. 

Her first orgasm—the first one another person’s given her, anyway—and it’s his.

And, oh, it had been so easy.

His ego is not immune to this.

But, nice as it is, it doesn’t quite feel like a boost in the traditional sense. It feels something more like a twinge, hard and new, right under his ribcage. Like vindication, maybe, or—and he feels like a fucking moron for even thinking it—fate.

He bows from the waist and nudges into her with his nose, his tongue laving a stripe up the entire length of her pussy. 

Her skin tastes like soap. Somewhere in the dimmest corners of his head he’s annoyed at this; imagines her scouring every inch of herself raw in the showers before coming to him, filled with nerves and doubt under the spray. He presses the muscle of his tongue into her opening in search of more of the her he’d found on his fingers.

The sound she makes zips lightning-hot straight to his guts. 

His eyes roll briefly closed, and he sinks down onto his elbows, the twisted line of the sheets digging into his skin under his weight.

She shifts her thighs together, her fingers twitching at her side. He steals a glance up and finds her watching him, her lips parted, her eyes too-bright.

“Open your legs,” he encourages, his lips barely lifting from her skin. She sinks her teeth into her lip as she lets her knees fall flat to the bed. 

She’s spread out open in front of him, and he dips his head to continue. 

She flinches and tenses and exhales in turn, reacting to every touch of his mouth as though speaking aloud. It makes him feel violently impatient, and so he moves slower, trying to temper himself. 

He wants to be inside her. 

He wants to swallow her, and to be swallowed by her. Fuck, he’s never wanted anything more in his life.

He’s pretty sure he’s leaking precum into his pants; all the blood having long vacated his brain to swell bruise-achingly hard in his cock. He tries to stay focused, but the reality is that Poe’s thoughts ran away from him the second she set foot in his room. The challenge now is to just try not to do something stupid.

Something stupider than fucking his best friend.

She hisses, tossing her head back, her legs twitching so hard his tongue nearly loses its place against the hot nub of her clit. 

He slides both hands beneath her thighs to lift her hips to his face in an attempt to keep her still, barely managing to tamp down the urge to rut helplessly against the mattress in search of relief.

The smell of her, the taste, fills his senses. But it’s still not enough. He wants to bring her to insensibility; to work that softness into the bed, glutting himself until her whimpers turn to those of overstimulation.

He’d never really considered himself a possessive person, but as she quietly sucks in a sharp, shallow breath, he realises he wants that sound all to himself.

He pulls it out of her with his tongue again, and again, his attention unwavering.

He wants her thinking of this, of him, from now on. Every single time she comes, alone or otherwise. He wants her to dream about him inside her; tongue, fingers, cock, he doesn’t give a fuck. At briefings. At meals. Waiting around bored for launch clearance in her fighter, standing alone in the showers, when someone else presses their hands to her skin, and lifts her chin to meet her lips (and fuck, that hurts to think about, like hitting realspace at-speed, hard enough to grind his bones together). 

She comes with a pained-sounding cry, her pubic bone bumping into his nose and pushing his face away. He drags himself up and finds her reaching her hands out as though to stop him. 

“You okay?” he manages.

“Poe, I want…please…”

“What, baby? Talk to me.” He leans up, bracing himself over her. Maybe she’s changed her mind. Maybe she’s had enough and she’s going to tell him to stop, to give her back her pants, to never mention any of this again.

It’s still more than he’d ever imagined he’d get.

Her eyes stay on his and she blinks slowly at him, as though trying to remember who he is. His heart thunks hollowly in his chest, and he waits.

“Fuck me.”

He pauses. It wasn’t what he’d expected her to say. His already-painful cock jumps in his pants at the demand. “You need a break first?”

She answers by trying to drag him down toward her, her hips lifting to press against him, ankles hooked around the backs of his legs. 

He doesn’t wait to be told twice. He shifts his weight, kicking his pants down, settling himself between her legs. 

She ducks her chin and kisses his shoulder.

His head swims. He barely feels the touch of her lips through the material of his shirt, but it hardly matters. The gesture is so small, so careful, so quick, as though she couldn’t help herself.

As though it’s something she’s thought of before.

Which is when it hits him: the one thing he’s never seriously let himself entertain. Does he…actually have a chance? 

Without undue vanity, Poe knows that his looks are the one area, at least, that he can afford not to worry about. He’s not an idiot. He knows exactly how people respond when he flashes his teeth at them, or holds their eyes with his own for a protracted moment from beneath a quirked eyebrow. 

But never her. She’s somehow always been frustratingly, crushingly immune to every single weapon in his arsenal. It had been a source of ire in the early days, while he was still learning the colour of her voice, and the shape of her mind. 

The sadder, slower ache of acceptance had come later; gathering like thunderheads, lingering long.

She wasn’t for him. She didn’t want to be. Letting himself pretend otherwise would have only ever been an exercise in masochism. 

Despite all of this, Poe’s still human. And, as he had come to realise, knowing something intellectually is very different to knowing it physically.

Whenever she smiles at him, and bumps into him, and rolls her eyes at him. Whenever he’s inside somebody else, tasting the sweat on their skin, or stretched out around their pleasure. Whenever he jerks his cock alone in his bunk late at night, ashamed and furious at himself for such a disgraceful breach of their friendship, for the things he’s imagined.

Everything he’s ever done with anybody else; every filthy, beautiful fucking thing, he’d turn himself inside out and crawl over hot coals to do again with her, to her, for her, if she wanted.

And now, here she is.

He might not ever get another shot at this.

He needs to make it count.

“How many other guys’ve you been with?” he says, his voice coming out rough. She looks mortified, but he doesn’t care. “How many?”

“S-six,” she says. 

He nods. He’d already known about Kip and Terrett, and he’d had his suspicions about Rau and Valen. He’s a little disappointed at the knowledge that Rau had let her down with all the others; he wouldn’t have expected it. 

“Then that’s six other times we gotta make up for,” he says, distractedly. 

He presses forward, and the first millimetre he sinks inside her already has him panicking. 

She immediately feels far too hot and close, but the hardest part, the part threatening to undo everything, is the way she’s looking up at him, as though silently pleading with him, and Gods, how she doesn’t need to.

“Oh, sh...shit. You good? I’m good. That’s…ungh, so fucking good.” He’s aware he’s making no sense, but that’s the only thing left in his head, probably the only thing he’ll ever know again: good, good, good.

Her fingers are clenched tight around his forearm, and he thinks she might be holding her breath, but then she lets it go, and the wet bloom of her cunt swallows him fractionally deeper.

“You’re doing so good baby, you’re taking me so well, you feel perfect,” he groans, hoping he doesn’t sound as wrecked as he feels, his guts on fire with need.

She squirms under him, and fuck, she feels incredible. After coming twice he can feel the evidence of how wet she is, the smooth glide of her body gripping close around him, giving way slowly. 

It’s suddenly too fucking hot in his room. He can feel his hair sticking to the back of his neck and around his ears, and it’s vaguely annoying, but he couldn’t give a shit. 

Her warm breath meets his chin, and he follows the line of her attention down the length of his own body, to the place where his hips are flush against hers. Between her parted legs he can see his cock half-sunk inside her, and his face presses to her damp, salty skin as he murmurs to her, pressing forward, enveloped entirely by her.

He has no idea what he’s saying. It just feels important for her to know. 

Whatever it is, he never gets the chance to find out.

Because then she’s kissing him, and her mouth is on his and her lips are parting and they’re soft and her teeth are catching at the dry ege of his lower lip and her breath is hot and it’s hers and it’s in his mouth and it’s in his lungs and it’s oxygenating his fucking blood and pumping through his heart and his brain and searing through every single part of him until she’s all that’s left.

He’s pretty sure he’s dying.

“Holy fuck,” he thinks he’s trying to say, and he feels her smiling, gently biting into his lip, keeping him quiet. 

She rolls her hips up against his, pushing herself off the bed. He can feel himself rapidly losing control as she throws her head back, her brows drawn, teeth cutting into her own lip.

“Baby, wait, wait a sec,” he pants.

“What’s wrong?” she gasps, and of course she doesn’t listen; she never fucking listens to him, rocking up toward him, making him see stars. 

“Just…fuck, hang on.” Cold showers, he thinks, grimly. Freezing cold showers, and depressurised-cockpit earaches. Nine hour-long diplomatic debriefs. The rancid-smelling mucus trail Klaud leaves behind everywhere he goes.

“Is this…not good?” she says, low and weak. “Poe?”

His eyes nearly roll back in his head as she whispers his name, and the sound jolts through him—her voice, the one he knows so well—like this, with him.

Whatever pitiful electricity’s still left in the meat of his brain fizzles out. “Oh shit, say my name again,” he begs, not even waiting for her to do so. 

He’s already moving, needing to feel the walls of her cunt stroking and sucking at his cock. “D’you know how many times I’ve thought about this? About being inside you like this? And I never, ever thought you’d wanna…” 

He shouldn’t be saying this. He’s gotta be real fucking careful, if he doesn’t want to accidentally tell her every shameful daydream he’s ever had about her and disintegrate what’s left of their friendship into dust. 

“You’re fucking perfect,” he tells her instead. “Your pussy is perfect.” 

She recoils, and it’s equal parts adorable and infuriating that even now she’d be embarrassed to hear him say this.

He almost laughs. “Why’s that make you shy? You don’t like me talking about your pussy? You wanna know how good you taste, baby? You’re sweet, so sweet and tight and—” and fuck, he can still taste her on his lips, and he watches her carefully, finding the place that makes her fall boneless and focusing there, right there, until the viselike grip on his arms weakens and she’s coming again.

Her voice breaks, but he doesn’t slow. She can take it. 

He pushes her hips down, fucking her into the mattress, skin clapping on skin. She’s yanking at his hair hard enough to hurt, but he relishes the pain because it keeps his vision clear; exactly where he wants to be. 

Her orgasm tumbles into another, and he seizes her knees, lifting her toward him as he picks up his pace. She moans, belatedly trying to cover the sound with her hand, and it’s the sweetest music he’s ever heard. He is never, ever going to be able to get that sound out of his head again.

“Hey, hey. Let me hear that,” he says, leaning closer, dragging her hand away. “Don’t you cover that up. Come on, baby, I wanna hear you.” She presses her lips together, and he huffs, driving himself into her just a little harder than strictly necessary.

He’s rewarded with a weak, throaty whimper, and he grins at her. “That’s the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever heard,” he confesses.

Her nipples stand through the thin, sweat-sheer fabric of her tank top, her softness rippling upwards with every stroke. He watches her body greedily, wanting more, wanting everything all at once. 

He wants, very badly, to lick her again, all the way from her neck to her sweet, trembling cunt. He can still taste her on his tongue as he presses his fingers down to her clit, just above the place where he’s still pumping in and out of her.

She cries out, coming again until she’s melting wet into the bed. 

He still doesn’t slow, but his thoughts have run away from him and all of a sudden he realises it’s too late, far too late to stop himself.

He wants her full of his cum, until he’s emptied out all of the ache of himself into her, and her pretty, swollen cunt’s overfull with him until he dribbles out from between her lips and onto his fingers, making a mess of the sheets so he can start all over again.

Right at the precipice of his climax, she opens her eyes and looks up at him. There are tears of overstimulation clinging to her eyelashes, and her fingers are clutching gently at the back of his shirt. 

Nobody has ever laid me down as low as you, he thinks, surprised at the strength of his emotion, willing her to understand.

But then he’s coming so hard his limbs go numb, and he isn’t thinking anything anymore. 

He presses himself deep, deep inside, shaking violently as she swallows every pulse of his orgasm. His heart is thunderous in his ears, his muscles liquefied. He slumps, panting.

If she objects to the deadweight of his body over hers, she doesn’t say anything. He stays there, smothering her, trying to regain his breath, until he can feel her beginning to shift uncomfortably beneath him.

“Was that…okay?” she says, ridiculously, like his soul didn’t just leave his body.

He doesn’t even bother responding to the question. “You’re crazy,” he muses instead. “She’s crazy.”

He’s lifting himself off her when his chain swings from the neck of his shirt, clocking her between the eyes. “Oh, shit,” he says, as she gasps in pain. “Sorry, baby.” He presses his fingers to the spot, feeling guilty. “Normally I’d’ve taken that off.”

He’s usually far more thoughtful than this when he has company, but this time he hadn’t unclipped his necklace, or changed his clothes or sheets. The thought simply hadn’t occurred to him. Because she doesn't feel like—has never felt like—a guest in his bed. In fact, her absences have only ever felt like temporary discomforts to be endured until her return.

She’s scowling at him, her nose wrinkled up like a Weequay’s, and it’s so fucking cute he wants to kiss her again. “Why didn’t you?” she says.

She needs to ask? “Because it’s you.”

As he crawls back down between her legs, he finds a spectacular mess of cum and sweat and the evidence of her orgasms on the sheets, and fuck, it’s soaking down here. He wonders whether she even realises what she’s done.

He’s disappointed he didn’t get to watch. He’s sure he can get her to do it again, though.

She blinks down at him, her eyes glassy. “What are you doing?”

His mouth waters watching the way her wet skin shines and he feels an answering twitch in his recently-softened cock. “Cleaning you up. We’re not done yet.”

Her eyes widen, but whatever she does next, he misses it.

He’s preoccupied.

Just tagging a couple of the lovely people who commented on the original and might be interested in this, absolutely no pressure of course! x

@saradika @oscarseyebrow @the-little-ewok @bacarasbabe @writeforfandoms @hardc0rehaylz @moonlight-prose @lcvenderblues @onfiretakemehigher @littlemousedroid @viceofdionysus @grufflepuff-writes-stuff @ifimayhaveaword @millllenniawrites @liamakorn @lilhawkeye3 @grumpymuffinmama @dailyreverie @mandelirious

#poe dameron x f!reader #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #from a certain point of view ask game #poe dameron smut #star wars smut #poe dameron fanfic #star wars fanfic

[dameronalone]

mack/mav, 22, autistic & adhd. aroace & in the best qpr ever. any pronouns tbh. I write I shitpost I sometimes make edits you can tag me or send me asks whenever I don't care man I'm just here to have autistic fun on the internet

prev. buckyisdisabled & pumpkinpoes

-> entering my miguel o'hara era <-

house rules

technically I am not strictly 18+ only. I do tag 18+ content under nsfwish or 18+ or nudity. if you aren't comfortable with me following you let me know and I can unfollow or you can just block me

however I reserve the right to block anyone for any reason and not have to explain myself. we're all strangers on the internet. chill

if we aren't mutuals please don't send me or comment nsfw content, especially posts that arent nsfw in nature. (if we are mutuals, I'm sure you probably already have given me nsfw content in some form. pls carry on moots)

if I reblogged an ask game or a writing prompt list please feel free to send me something. don't feel like you can't just if we aren't mutuals I love to hear from folks I'm not mutuals with :3

post with details about reader fic

blank blogs are getting block+reported. it's nothing personal but can't afford to risk a bot following me. PLEASE give yourself a fun funky icon or something to denote real life

feel free to ask me to tag something if it bothers you and I'll see what I can do :3

now I've got sideblogs, more info, and fun stuff below

-> @poedameronthighs

I reblog and archive reader x character content on the above sideblog. this blog is strictly 18+. since I've decided to write and post from here, my main, this sideblog will function in place of a taglist and as a way to keep things organized. I'll reblog comment rbs to my main

-> immolationfox

i linked to it earlier but this is my ao3. it's kind of my catch-all, typically I cross post everything and if it's not on my tumblr its definitely on my ao3

-> 100 word drabble challenge

im doing a challenge where you send me one of these available hundred words and I'll write a one hundred word drabble. if you give me your ao3 I can gift it to you there.

-> Fandom + ship list

this is by no means extensive, it's a constant work in progress, and intially started with the intent of being used in tandem with the 100 word challenge but mostly i wanted to sort things and make a list. if you know I've blogged about them before but it's not on the list you can dm me or shoot me an ask and we can verify

-> tags

personal posting. basically anything thats not a shitpost for fandom related. often pretty venty. tagged for the purpose of blacklisting if u don't wanna see it

shrink posting. blogging abt my experience/thoughts during the process of getting my autism + adhd diagnosis. feel free to blacklist

dameronalone reader fic. this is gonna be what you're gonna want to blacklist if you aren't interested in reading my reader fic. I'll be posting all of my fics under this tag. however right now I don't have a tag for reader fics I reblog. I'll update this list if I make one

i tag most stuff by either fandom ship or character. I try to make sure I'm tagging gifsets with flashing gifs by using the tag flashing gif. I post about star wars, poe dameron, disability, autism, history, art, and my friends.

🌙🧡🚀💥

well that's all for now folks <3 gifs on this post and my header are by my favorite @zoriis

#pinned post #personal posting

[userpoe]

Star Wars: The Force Awakens (2015) Moon Knight (2022)

#moon knight #marc spector #moon knight spoilers #star wars #poe dameron #marveledit #swedit #moonknightedit #buckyisdisabled #nowritingonthewall #the-little-ewok #userfulcrum #nym.gifs #thank u mack for bringing attention to me this DELIGHTFUL parallel #do i have a type of fave or does oscar?

[616marcspector]

PLEASE talk about your aro Jake agenda that is something that can be SO PERSONAL and also I love that we both clocked him as aro immediately <33333

HIHIHI HELLO THANK YOU FOR THIS ASK

okay so i have been into mk for like four years now and during all that time i never really thought about jake's orientation at all?? i was like oh yeah marc spector is so bi and ace. steven grant wow he definitely lies awake at night wondering about his sexuality. jake lockley? idk man he just wants to hang out with his friends and talk about serial killers idk what to tell ya

and then recently it just Clicked and i was like oh shit he's just an aro guy isn't he

i love his relationship with marlene so much. marlene with steven is all lovey dovey boyfriend girlfriend shit and marlene and marc are all levels of Complicated but then marlene and jake are just like. idk how to explain it except through these panels

(took me too long to find these my moon knight folder has over 1500 pictures in it help)

they both think the other is the most annoying person in the world and they love each other :) they r buds :) and his alters are her boyfriends and since he looks like them sometimes she will act like he is her boyfriend too and he doesn't mind because she's his friend and she enjoys it and he likes when she's happy :) also the bemis run never happened fuck max bemis my enemy <3

anyway that's my aro jake agenda please talk to me more about it if you have any thoughts bc i am always thinking about him

bonus panel of jake that i love:

obsessed with the way he just s h o v e s samuels out of the way when he's in a rush lmao

#asks #buckyisdisabled #jake lockley the only man ever #aro jake agenda

[bluedelladraw]

The thing about Kaz Brekker though, was this: if there was an insurmountable challenge, he would find a way to beat it into submission. — The resuscitation of Crow Coffee on Twenty-Third was his biggest triumph.

—

Six of crows coffee shop AU ?? Yes please. I’m excited to share with you guys my illustration for this years @grishaversebigbang !!

Based on the fic “the one where the crows unionize” by @buckyisdisabled on ao3 , you can read it here :D !! It is so so good

also make sure to check out @polekands ‘s amazing art -also done for the fic- here

#leigh bardugo #six of crows #crookedkingdom #artists on tumblr #grishaverse big bang #gvbbminibang22 #gvmb22 #gvbb #gvbbmb22 #gvbbmbcreation22 #the one where the crows unionize #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #soc fanart #soc fanfic

[polekands]

You should apologize to Wylan. You scared the shit out of him just now, and he was just asking if you were okay.”

“My dearest Inej,” Kaz began drily, “The dishboy should know by now that I am not concerned with whether or not I have hurt his feelings.”

“I wouldn't worry about it!” Nina chirped, appearing suddenly in the doorway. “Jesper is giving him day-old donuts, so he should be fine.”

Stop whatever you are doing and check out @buckyisdisabled ‘s fic on ao3 [here] it’s part of the @grishaversebigbang :D (I really have become a sucker for coffe-shop AU’s due to this fic)

equally important to have a look at is @bluedelladraw‘s artwork [link to be added] the details and the background just blow me away <3

#gvbb #gvbb22 #gvbbmb22 #gvbbmbart #[the one where the crows unionize] #wylan van eck #wesper #coffeshop au #donuts #soc #jesper fahey #jesper is a fashion icon change my mind

[aimmyarrowshigh]

Hey.

You should totally talk about your fic. IN FACT. I challenge you to post your favorite 3-sentence snippet and then tell us why it's your favorite.

Repeat as necessary until you've talked about all your favorite fics.

Thanks to anonymous and to @lazaefair, @morethanonepage, @buckyisdisabled, and @sky-full-of-sparks for being kind of supportive of my whining post yesterday, lol!

As for picking out a favorite 3-sentence snippet of my longfic WIP, I don't really have one... it's 90,000 words long now, so trying to find one favorite little part is kind of hard, but in general I think it's the best thing that I've ever written (including stuff that I did for my MFA, whoops). And if people don't read it once I start posting it I will be Lit'rally Devastated, but that's a me problem.

Ummmmm... I'll randomly pick a 3-sentence bit, though, and say what I like about it? (And I'm cheating by picking three paragraphs, technically, but whatever.)

Steve was one of six renters with two empty rooms left for more to come. Because of the nature of secrecy, there wasn’t much chatter over breakfasts—fluffy scrambled eggs, hearty oatmeal, and even some cutlet of meat each day except Fridays when there were sardines on toast—but Steve did befriend a tall, rangy omega who lived two rooms over down the corridor. His name was Scott Lang, and Steve knew that he was working with some kind of weaponized technology at Pym National Laboratory, but he knew this only because he happened to see Scott getting off the bus and heading into the labs one day, not because Scott had loose lips. What Scott actually told him he was doing for the war effort, the reason he was in D.C. and not back home in San Francisco, was “security consulting.”

Steve said that he was working in supplies, which was what Agent Carter instructed them all to say if anyone asked what they did up at Stark Mansion.

He got the idea that what they were doing was even more secretive than whatever was being cooked up at Pym Labs.

I like this section because... I'm particularly pleased with how much I'm able to write in this fic about the relationships that Steve (the MC/POV character) has with people besides Bucky, and the first full half of the fic is building those relationships and building the mystery behind the codebreaking and discovery of the Asset. I always have a weird need in longfics to give the protagonist a lot of life outside of the romance plot and I like writing and fleshing out the characters besides the main couple, and I think this is the fic where I've done that in the most organic way.

I'm also trying SO HARD TO HAVE AN ACTUAL PLOT when it comes to the codebreaking and ~mystery~ aspects (even though obviously the reader knows what/who the Asset is and that Hydra is behind it all) and I feel? mostly? like it's working? But I'm also worried that the "crockpot romance" level slow-burn before Bucky even appears in the story will turn people off, and that's making me #fret and start to prepare to kill my darlings to speed things up. But I LIKE how much of the story is Steve's life before Bucky? Like, it matters to me a lot that he HAS a life before Bucky and is a full character and not just a hole for Bucky to fill? IDK.

I JUST WANT IT TO BE INTERESTING TO PEOPLE BESIDES JUST ME and I have FEELINGS. And I'm also soooo determined to Actually Finish A Thing For Once In My Goddamn Life but I also want The Validation so I'm constantly just. vibrating with feelings.

#lent from tomorrow (today was too small for us) #stucky #fandom #fanfiction #my fic #people who are sweet

[the-force-awakens]

"take off your clothes" for uuhh... poe again. maybe a reader one? smdnnsj

gender neutral reader; overdramatic couple shenanigans, strip [poker], mildly suggestive dialogue I guess, implied spice towards the end.

“I'm just saying, you don't have to do this,“ Poe said imploringly, his dark eyes impossibly soft and weakening your resolve marginally.

You shook your head. "Yes I do."

"You really don't. We can work something else out," Poe tried again and it's admirable, really, how he just doesn't know when to quit.

You're gonna make him learn though. “Nope. You're not talking your way out of this one, Dameron. I won fair and square: take off your clothes."

Poe groaned and dropped back against the edge of his mattress. "It's not fair, you've barely lost anything."

It was true: you'd gotten extremely lucky with your hand this round, and Poe had gotten an extraordinarily lousy round. The only thing he had left, besides his underwear, was his shirt, which he had now just lost with his final play.

"If you just wanted me out of my clothes hotshot, you just had to ask," you remind him before you nudge him with your foot. "Come on, pop your shirt off."

"Want me to take my time with it?" Poe shot back, raising an eyebrow at you as he unbuttoned his shirt.

You grinned. "I just figured I'd take my time with you when you're done."

His shirt is off in record time after that, and you're laughing as you settle into his lap, hauling him in for a searing kiss.

#poe dameron x reader #myfic #buckyisdisabled #idk. the first exchange popped into my head.

[hermitmoss]

WAIT OMG ITS SO GREEN

VERY GREEN. VOTED GREEN/GREEN ON GREEN SCALE.

#answered #buckyisdisabled

[userpoe]

yes!! we love the sequels!!!!

WE!! LOVE!! THE!! SEQUELS!!

I'm just going to take a moment here to just infodump about 'em because yeah. I love how at the heart of them, they are about kindness and they are about choice and they are about family; they're about opening your heart to love again even after you've been hurt so many times before. They're about the trio coming back for each other time and time again, it's about standing up and saying no, it's about how no one is ever really alone. It's about doing the right thing even when it's a thankless job, even when it gets you into trouble, even when you fail. It's a story about how sometimes the night is long and it's dark and it will try to break you but you can reach the sunrise, your loved ones, dirtied and bloodied but still alive.

It's a story about Leia Organa. Her legacy. How much everyone loves her, what they're willing to do in her name, to protect and honor her.

And they're beautiful films, I won't hear a word to the contrary. They're colorful and they're lived in, and everything feels so real and grounded like you could jump in and live there too. The cinematography is gorgeous, the sets are spectacular, the costumes are fabulous.

I just... I really adore the sequels.

#ask box #buckyisdisabled

[the-force-awakens]

"i just wanted to say thank you for protecting me." reader and either Jake or Marc <3

gender-neutral reader, references to a (failed) mugging (mack u really gave me an opportunity to indulge the plot bunny I've had since April), marc/reader but w references to jake/reader & steven/reader for u, my warm beverage agenda strikes again. ~500 words.

Steven insists on bringing you back to their apartment — flat, Marc corrects himself before Steven can — after they'd rescued you from a pair of would-be muggers on your way home from the coffee shop.

Which is more than fine with Marc, who doesn't want to take his eyes off you, to reassure himself that you're fine, that they hadn't hurt you. It could have been so much worse: it could have been more than a couple of kids that were easy to scare off just by arriving; it could have been leftover reserves from Harrow's cult or any other number of Khonshu's enemies.

They could've been too late.

They weren't though, which Steven is quick to remind him as Jake holds you until you fall asleep that night, relishing in the rise and fall of your chest, the tiny puffs of air you breathe against his throat as you burrow as close to him as possible.

When Marc wakes up the next morning, however, the bed beside him is empty. He's up in an instant, heart hammering a tattoo against his ribcage, and your name on the tip of his tongue —

But then you pad around the bookcase that obscures his sight of the kitchen, wearing a pair of boxers and one of his shirts, two steaming mugs in your hand. Noticing his look of distress, you wince and hold one of the cups up higher than the other, “Sorry, didn't mean to scare you.”

"You -” he stops himself, seeing no point in lying and partially because he's still working to get air back into his lungs. Marc crosses the room in a few east strides, carefully extricates the mugs from your hands to sit on one of little tables Steven has set up to carry books, and pulls you in for a hug, kisses the top of your head - "it's alright. I coulda brought you some coffee.”

“No, I know, I just…” you falter for a minute, pulling back just enough that you can look at him - really look at him, his sleep tousled hair, his dark soft eyes, and inviting mouth - and your heart skips a beat, it really does. “I just wanted to thank you for saving me last night.”

"That's our job,” Marc says. "No need to thank us.”

Your eyes crinkle a little bit, sparking with mischief. “No?”

"Nah.”

"Not even if the thank you came in the form of a kiss?”

He wavers, then smiles just a tiny bit, which is a rare sight but becoming a little more frequent since they met you. “I mean, I'm not gonna say no to that but I mean it. You're ours to protect and we always will.”

You melt against him at that, expression softening too. “You're mine too,” you say as you draw him in to kiss him slowly and it's like coming back to life, kissing you, loving you, saving you.

And Marc knows what that feels like all too well.

#marc spector x reader #reader fic #myfic #buckyisdisabled #also. fhddksk. this is like my second time ever writing a marc reader fic so im Just A Smidge Nervous

[the-force-awakens]

soft kisses whilst cuddling in bed for the flyboy 🥺

gender neutral reader, some uh. some slight making out my hand slipped, okay?

This was your favorite place to be, out of the entire fucking galaxy — and you'd seen many of its vibrant corners, stepped into its most vivid shadows. You've gone to more planets than you can count, sped through hyperspace so much that the initial lurch of a ship no longer disorients you, but none of that can even remotely compare to lying in bed beside Poe Dameron.

The room temperature is cool, colder than the rest of the base because it helps you both sleep and it makes your shared comforter all that much more cozy. You'd kicked your trousers off somewhere down towards the foot of the bed ages ago, and Poe had tossed aside his shirt around the same time, leaving him in just his gray sweatpants.

You're curled up against his side, his arm under and around you, fingertips gliding up and down your arm absentmindedly as you draw circles against his chest, breathing him in, one of your legs draped over his and you think that nothing can possibly compare to this: no supernova, no nebula, no sunrise, could ever make your breath stall in your chest quite like it does when you tip your head back to look up at Poe to quietly observe his profile as he watches the ceiling: the stubbled curve of his jaw, the softness of his lips, the wrinkles gathered at the corners of his eyes.

He'd been infodumping about ships a moment ago when he'd suddenly fallen quiet with the kind of sigh that told you he was all right but words were becoming too much of an effort as tired as he was. Or maybe even from how happy he was, given that he catches you looking at him and smiles softly at you.

His hand stills against your skin and abruptly he shifts so that he's lying on his side: your leg jams between his and a heavier breath falls from his lips as his dark eyes slide down your face to your lips and back up again, a question in his gaze that he starts to open his mouth to verbalize, but you beat him to it, leaning in to kiss him.

His arm wraps around your body, skimming up your spine to hold you firmly in place against him when you tease open his lips to press your tongue into his mouth, drawing a low noise from the back of his throat that makes your stomach flip.

Maker, you adore all the lovely noises he makes. You don't think you'll ever get tired of it.

You don't think Poe ever will either, not when you pull back to spare some attention to his neck, ghosting soft kisses along his skin, making him gasp and his grip on you grow tighter.

You've reached the junction of his neck and his shoulder when he whispers sleepily, "Love you," into the space between you.

You glance up at him, but find his eyes are shut, eyelashes fluttering slightly.

“Love you too,” you reply, touched that out of all the things that could have slipped out at this moment, it is a reminder of how much he loves you.

Poe blinks down at you, a crease appearing between his eyebrows. "You good?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, cupping his face with your hand and sweeping your thumb across his cheekbone. “I got you.”

The dorky grin you get in return is something you're gonna treasure for the rest of your life, you think. Especially since he leans back in, to kiss you softly a second time, and you can feel his smile against your own.

#buckyisdisabled #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #myfic #who knows maybe eventually I'll post a fic that actually has a gif of *poe* fjdkskk #but simultaneously Not complaining at the amount of soft cozy bed scenes this guy has while looking incredibly Poe

[the-force-awakens]

"there it is, there’s that smile!" with poe pls 🥺

gender-neutral reader, poe & the reader are autistic, is it hurt/comfort really when his strategy is to pester you until you smile?

You were doing your best attempt to wrap yourself up in your comforter when Poe plopped down into bed beside you, content even though you were hogging all the blankets and leaving him to fend for himself against the chill of the room. 

It did not deter him in the slightest from talking animatedly about his special interests, gesticulating wildly with his hands in a way you've always found endearing. 

And despite how much of a crappy mood you'd been in earlier when you'd crawled into bed earlier, you feel your resolve to stay irritable begin to crack over the sparkle in Poe's eyes as he gets himself worked up on flight strategies from a bygone era, purposefully goading you here and there with jabs at long standing friendly arguments the two of you share, up and until —

“Oh that's banthashit, Dameron, and you know it!” 

Poe isn't able to suppress his delighted grin as he tips his head towards you as you finally throw your comforter down and start defending the T-47 model (that he still, privately, thinks flies like a board of wood), your voice rising with every few minutes from the passion of your argument.

You pause to catch your breath and it's then you finally notice the giddiness on Poe's face, and you can't help but laugh a puzzled, "What?” at him. 

“There it is,” Is the response you get which is just real helpful, honestly, Dameron. 

“There what is?”

Poe leans in, presses his mouth against yours to kiss you once sweetly. When he pulls away, he whispers fondly, "There's that smile I love so much.”

Your heart seizes a little, over the look of adoration on his face, over his words, but you thump him slightly on the shoulder anyway as you choke out, "You devious…blurrg.”

“Cheered you up though, didn't it?”

"By being annoying.”

“Annoyingly charming.”

You roll your eyes up at the ceiling. "You're a maker damned menace.”

Poe kisses your cheek and says, entirely meaning it, "Your maker damned menace.”

Not that you'd have it any other way.

#buckyisdisabled #hopefully this is formatted right. #myfic #poe dameron x reader