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sailor-aviator · 5 months

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Baboons and Flesh Wounds

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: From a young age, the animal kingdom had fascinated you, and maybe that's why you chose to pursue that passion. You quickly became a force within the field, becoming the leading expert on ape social structures, which is how you found yourself on an expedition into the African jungles searching for a troop of gorillas. What you weren't expecting, however, was to run into the local wild man on one of your excursions... (Tarzan!AU)

Trigger Warnings: Language, Suggestive thoughts, Suggestive commentary, Jake being crass, Bradley and Boots in their feelings, Bradley's horny thoughts, caressing of female body parts. I think that's it, but please let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 2.7k

Series Masterlist || Moodboard 1 || Moodboard 2 || Moodboard 3 || Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw Tag List

You had settled into an easy routine over the past two weeks, the first trying to iron out the different kinks. Dr. Kazansky had determined that your ankle would take around four weeks to heal if you kept off of it, and as it turned out, Bradley was more than happy to assist. You could think of only a handful of times that you had been on your feet, the large man appearing first thing in the morning to carry you around camp.

Of course, the boys had given you endless shit about it, Jake being the loudest. The second morning after your accident, Bradley had waited for you outside your tent as you changed, his deep, brown eyes surveying the jungle stoically. He had wordlessly scooped you up in his arms as you hobbled towards the entrance, carrying you effortlessly to where the others were already gathered for breakfast. Javy had raised an eyebrow in question, but said nothing. Bob was too busy going over something with Ice to pay you much mind. Jake had walked over from his tent at the same time and let out a loud snort at the sight of you.

“Is this going to be a regular thing now?” He had snickered, gesturing to where you clung to Bradley. “Is he a taxi service now?”

“I’ve already tried explaining to him that I don’t need him to carry me everywhere,” you scowled at the blond. Bradley placed you gently on the bench before plopping down right next to you, Jake taking up the space on your other side. “He’s just insistent upon doing it, is all.”

“If I didn’t know any better,” he drawled as Javy placed a plate of eggs in front of you, “I’d think you like him carrying you around everywhere.”

You cast him a sideways glance as you shoveled a fork full of egg into your mouth, brow pinched together in indignation.

“I don’t.”

“Sure,” Jake hummed, giving you a knowing look before bumping your shoulder with his. “And jungle man over there also doesn’t get a hard on every time he looks at you.”

“Jake!” You exclaimed, cheeks warming as Javy cackled and Maverick cleared his throat, his own cheeks growing a nice shade of pink at the turn in the conversation. Bob and Ice looked over at the two of you, matching shocked expressions on their faces.

“Don’t be crass,” you hissed at the blond, swatting at his arm. He rolled his eyes, accepting the plate Javy handed him with a quiet thanks.

“Is it really being crass if I’m telling the truth?”

“Yes,” you snapped, cognizant of the fact Bradley had been inching closer to you as each moment passed. Jake rolled his eyes at you, but said nothing more.

The next couple of days had you struggling to figure out how to do various chores around the camp. Cooking was easy enough until you needed to get up and grab something.

The first time you had stood up, Bradley’s head had shot up from where he was flipping through one of the sketchbooks Ice had laying about. His honey-colored eyes watched you intently as a frown tugged on his lips, standing when you made to move.

“No,” he said, pushing down on your shoulders gently.

“Bradley, I have to-”

“No,” he said again, more firmly this time, eyes intense and brows pinched. “Hurt.”

“I’m not so hurt that I can’t walk the three feet to grab a spoon,” you scowled at him. He raised an eyebrow at you, turning and walking the few, short steps across the eating area to pluck a spoon out of the container and bringing it to you. You accepted it with a huff, not missing the satisfied smirk that appeared on his face at the small victory.

Laundry was done down by the river, an ever watchful Bradley sitting on one of the stones beside you as you scrubbed the various articles of clothing. He watched you carefully, an unreadable expression on his face as you worked through your task.

After the first half hour, you began to grow increasingly self conscious once you realized he hadn’t taken his eyes off of you for more than a couple of seconds at a time the entire time you two had sat there.

“Aren’t you bored?” You asked him, wrinkling your nose. “I mean, it can’t be fun to just sit here and watch me do all this. Wouldn’t you prefer to help Mav or Ice or someone else? I’m sure they’re having much more fun than we are.”

Bradley’s gaze hardened in confusion. Shaking his head, he shifted slightly, leaning closer towards you.

“Like being with you,” he murmured, the hint of a smile on his lips as he looked at you. The heat on your cheeks had nothing to do with the sweltering jungle heat, and you quickly averted your gaze, pretending to inspect a stain on one of Javy’s shirts. Your eyes darted up when Bradley crept towards you, and for a moment, you were reminded that this man was raised by apes, not humans. His leg stretched out to rest beside you, the rest of him slinking after until he crouched right in front of you, his nose almost brushing yours.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you swallowed thickly as he reached a hand up to brush his fingers across your cheek. His eyes darted down, lingering on your lips as they parted. A shiver ran up your spine as his fingers trailed down, running over your bottom lip, and the intense look in his eye became hungry as you let out a quiet gasp. He let his fingers linger for a second before pulling them away and towards a strand of hair that hung in your face. Slowly, he pushed it back behind your ear, letting his palm cradle your jaw as the two of you sat silently watching each other.

The sound of jungle leaves rustling broke the two of you out of your trance, and Bradley let out a growl as he positioned himself in front of you, glaring intensely at the spot where the noise was coming from.

“Hey, you two!” Maverick called, coming into view with a smile. Bradley immediately relaxed back into his spot beside you, but the frown remained. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was annoyed. You cleared your throat, your head still clouded from the intensity of the prior moment.

“Hey, Mav,” you greeted, attempting a smile that you were sure came out as more of a grimace. “What brings you by?”

“Oh nothing,” he grinned. “Just wanted to see if you needed any help with the laundry. It’s very kind of you to offer to do it while you heal up. I know it’s not the greatest chore.”

“I want to feel useful,” you offered, shrugging.

“Well, nevertheless, it’s appreciated,” Mav smiled. “Do you need any help carrying everything back?”

“No,” Bradley snapped, leveling Mav with a glare. The older man looked a little taken aback by the ferocity of Bradley’s answer, but recovered quickly, shooting you a brief, knowing look.

“I see,” he hummed, trying and failing to hide his smirk. “Well, if the two of you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

And with that, he turned on his heel and headed back towards the camp. Once he was out of sight, Bradley huffed, turning back to look at you.

“What’s got you so grumpy?” you asked him, chuckling slightly. Bradley didn’t answer, instead, reaching out to twirl a strand of your hair in between his fingers, bringing it up to his nose and taking a long, deep inhale before giving you another heavy look. Your cheeks heated up once more before you ducked your head down to start the process of scrubbing the laundry once again. You tried not to think about how Bradley’s muscles had bulged when he was crouched in front of you or how his intense look made your thighs clench together.

You were sitting in one of the research tents a week later, transcribing some notes for Dr. Kazansky the following week, having begged the older man for ways to be of use given you were slowly losing your mind doing all of the mundane chores. Bradley was perched in a chair next to you, flipping through the rough sketches Bob had made of some of the baboons and wrinkling his nose.

“What’s that face for?” You giggled, glancing over at him. Bradley huffed and shook his head, giving you a solemn look.

“Baboons are annoying.”

You burst into a fit of giggles, resting your chin on the palm of your hand as you looked at him fully. Bradley’s gaze softened as he listened to you laugh, a tinge of pink coating his cheeks.

“Yeah?” You asked him. “How so?”

Bradley straightened up in his seat, rolling his eyes as he thought back to the countless run-ins he’s had with the creatures.

“They scream a lot,” he scowled, lips pursed as he gives you a serious look. “And they steal my food sometimes. It’s hard to catch them because they climb the trees so fast.”

You had quickly grown used to how articulate Bradley actually was over the course of the last week and a half. You supposed it was no surprise considering he’d had ten years of practice, but even Tom had seemed surprised when he walked in on Bradley telling you a story one day, the younger man animatedly telling you a story about a trick he played on one of the younger members of the gorilla troop he lived with. Now you wondered if the older two men even knew if Bradley could string together more than a couple of short sentences.

His sentences could still be choppy at times and his answers short and direct, sure, but the more you showed interest in what he had to say, the more he found himself opening up and saying more. Bradley found that he liked the way you reacted to what he had to say, and he tried to practice at night once he knew you were asleep. He found himself visiting with Maverick and Tom more, asking them questions about different words for different feelings and ideas. He wasn’t sure why, but he wanted you to know him, to know what he thought about things and how he felt about the world. Maybe it was because he wanted to know those things about you too and to talk about them with you.

“They are pretty fast, huh?” You asked, leaning forward a little more, unknowingly pushing your breasts together and exaggerating your cleavage. Bradley’s eyes flickered down, and he felt a familiar stirring in his groin. He found that this feeling also happened quite frequently around you, and it was often the simplest of things that set it off. It happened when he watched you bend over and dry your hair after a bath one day. It happened when you stretched after sitting hunched over too long, your back arching as you raised your arms over your head. It happened sometimes when you looked at him through your lashes, your bottom lip captured between your teeth.

He shifted in his seat, unable to tear his eyes away from your chest. He felt an overwhelming need to touch them, to touch you. He often found himself thinking of you. How good you smelled. How soft you were. He wanted to touch you, to mark you as his.

The troop leader, Mutubo Tom had named him, had several offspring, so Bradley wasn’t unfamiliar with the concept of mating, or sex as Tom and Maverick called it. However, he wasn’t so sure that his family experienced what he was feeling, at least to this extent. Without thinking, Bradley reached out, running his fingertips over the exposed skin, his shorts growing tighter as he felt the soft, warm skin.

You sucked in a breath, your cheeks heating and eyes going wide as Bradley caressed you. His gaze was intense as he touched you, and you felt a shiver run up your spine when his brown eyes darted up to meet your own. The brown was practically swallowed by black, and you had to muster all of your self control to not throw yourself at him then and there.

“I should, um,” you stuttered after a second, “I should go see if Maverick has started dinner yet.”

You stood abruptly, Bradley following suit. He moved to pick you up, but you took a step back, shaking your head.

“No, I,” you sucked in a breath, “it’s not that far. I think I’ll try walking there.”

Bradley frowned at you, but before he could argue, you beelined out of the tent and into the open air. It was unprofessional to be acting this way, especially with someone who didn’t understand the intricacies of human relationships.

The end of the week brought movie night, and you were giddy when you remembered that it was your turn to pick. Jake and Javy groaned loudly when they saw your choice. You ignored them, taking a seat on one of the couches Maverick and Tom had managed to snag while in the city not too terribly long ago. Bradley immediately sat next to you, his thigh pressed against yours, filling you with an odd sense of comfort.

“What are we watching?” Bob asked as he entered the tent.

“The Princess Bride,” you grinned as Jake plopped down on your other side.

“You couldn’t have picked anything with explosions?” He asked, wrinkling his nose at you in mock disgust. You rolled your eyes, shoving him lightly.

“The Princess Bride is a classic,” you argued. “Don’t be such a guy.”

“I think the Princess Bride is great,” Bob offered, earning dual eye rolls from both Javy and Jake.

“You would,” Jake threw back at the bespectacled man with a grin.

“Explosions and gun fights does not a movie make,” Bob scowled. “It’s good to mix it up every now and then.”

“Exactly!” You exclaimed. “I had to sit through so many hours of Fast and Furious of all things. The least you can do is sit quietly through my movie.”

“Hey, do not knock the Fast and the Furious,” Javy warned, raising his pointer finger at you with a serious look. You rolled your eyes once more but let out a giggle.

“I’ll stop knocking the Fast and the Furious when the movies start being good,” you grinned.

“So, never,” Bob snorted, earning scowls from the other two men. Before the argument could continue, both Maverick and Tom strolled into the tent.

“Oh, The Princess Bride,” Mav grinned, plopping down onto the other couch, Tom not too far behind. “One of my favorites!”

Once everyone was settled, you started the movie, absentmindedly curling into Bradley’s side more and more as the minutes stretched on. Bradley’s fingers came up to play with the strands of your hair, unknowingly lulling you into a deep sleep.

Bradley knew the second you fell asleep, and he smiled softly as he listened to your breathing even out as you relaxed against him. He liked this. He liked how safe you felt with him and how at ease you made him feel. Bradley was somewhat paying attention to scenes in front of him, lost in thought as he tried to understand what was going on. There was one thing that stood out to him, though. A word, actually. He had heard Maverick and Tom say it to each other on rare occasions, but Bradley had never given it much thought before he met you. But, when he saw the two characters on the screen look at each other and say that word, he felt that it might be important. That maybe he should ask them what it meant. You stirred against him, and Bradley felt an ache in his chest as he looked down at your sleeping form. His curiosity could wait for now, he thought. He’d make sure to ask Tom and Maverick what it meant later. For now, he just wanted to stay by your side.

A/N: Reminder to everyone that I am redoing my tag lists! If you haven't added yourself to the new one, please do so! I will also not tag you if you do not have an age listed on your blog or your blog is blank, so if you sign up for the tag list, please make sure you add your age and fill in your blog! As always, comments and reblogs are appreciated. You can also find my works on AO3 under sailor_aviator. If you enjoy my writing, try checking out some of my other series as well and/or leave me a tip if you feel compelled to do so!

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watsittoyah · 1 year

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Along Came A Spider…2099

Warnings-Sexual content, time travel, oral sex, rough sex, fang play, size kink, breeding kink and slight blood play. Some talks of suicide..

(My Spanish isn’t great, so I did use google translate to help…)

Chapter 5- The Skeletons In His Closet..

“Everything needs to be perfect. Erica do you have the ice?”

“I’ve got the ice.” You check that off the list. “Jerry, do you have the paper plates?”

“I got paper plates, and I got napkin.” You check those off the list. “Monica-”

“I have the baked Mac and cheese and I have the hot links.” You check those off of the list and you look at your friends. “As you all know, this is the annual Valentine family reunion. I invited you all because my grandparents adore you. Now, we need to make a signal so if any family member catches us off guard the others can swoop in and save the day. Any suggestions?”

“Oh! We can fake a yawn.” Jerry suggests. But Monica shakes her head. “No can do, we did that last year and Great Aunt Ethel made Erica sit on the bench with her so she could rest it out.”

“Ear tug.” Erica says. “Yes! That’s perfect. Alright let’s get the stuff in the car.” As your friends heads out of the apartment you stay back and call Miguel for the tenth time. It goes to voicemail which doesn’t surprise you. He’s been late to a lot of functions lately.

“This is Miguel leave a message.” It beeps and you pace the apartment. “Baby, we’re leaving the apartment. I was hoping you’d be here so I can prep you but obviously you’re not answering. The cookout is at my grandparents. I’m sure you remember the address. Just please don’t be too late, a lot of my family wants to meet you, okay? Lo-later.” You hang up and tell Milo to be good…

When you park the car, you see balloons all tied up on the front porch. “Remember the plan, we stay for a few hours and if any of us need saving, tug an ear.” You all get out of the car and start to unload the stuff.

Erica pulls you to the side and whispers to you. “Where’s Miguel?” You huff and shrug. “I don’t know, but if he is late he is going to get an earful.” You say as you tie your headscarf tighter.

“Is that little Tommie?” You turn and put on a fake smile as you see your Auntie Vivian. “Hey Auntie.” You lean over and give her a hug. “Girl look at you! Looking like a little African queen. And these hips! Lord have mercy I know these boys go crazy over you.” You feel awkward and clear your throat. “Auntie, you remember my friends right?”

“Of course I do. Hey guys.”

“Hey.” They say in unison. “Auntie where can we put the ice and food?” You ask. “In the kitchen. Now don’t stay in there. If you do they’re gonna make you help with the fish fry. And it’s already hot with all these black folks.” You all laugh and start bringing the stuff inside.

“Hello.” You call out as you walk into the house. “Tommie! Is that you! Come here let me get a good look at you!” Your Auntie Bonnie calls out as she dries her upper lip with a napkin.

“We’ll put this up.” Jerry whispers to you as they walk past. “Baby go and put that ice in the cooler out back.”

You walk over to your Auntie Bonnie and she looks you over. “Girl you look like me back in the day. I swear I had about six boyfriends and three men trying to marry me when I was your age.” You laugh at that and she gives you a hug. “How you feeling?”

“I’m okay. Really.” You lie. “Mhm, if you want to lie, lie to your boss not to me. But I won’t push, now where is this man, Barbra was telling us about.”

“Miguel will be here soon. He’s just running a little late.”

“Tommie, come here and help me with this fish.” Your Auntie Meryl calls out. “Oh! Uncle Pete said he needs help with the grill I’ll be back.” You run outside and see Erica and Monica over by the drinks.

“Where’s Jerry?” You ask sitting down taking a bottle of water from the cooler. “Your cousins snatched him up so he’s playing double Dutch with them.” Monica points across the yard and sure enough Jerry was turning the ropes with one of your little cousins.

“TT!” You feel a pat to your thigh and you turn to see your baby cousin, Oliver. “Hi baby!” You pick him up and give him a great big hug. He holds your face and leans his head on your shoulder.

You sit there with him in your arms and hear his mother calling him. “Oh, I should’ve know you’d be with Tommie. He isn’t causing you any trouble is he?”

“Not at all, right Ollie?” He just sits there holding your face. “Ollie, do you want to show your big cousin your new toy?” Vanessa asks him. He nods and he jumps off of your lap and goes running. “Ollie no running you’ll hurt yourself. That boy is going to keep me young running after him. How y’all been?”

“Good.” You say wondering where Miguel was.

“I’ve been alright, but you know where the harder stuff at?” Monica asks. “Go to Uncle Pete, he got some mikes hard lemonade in his cooler.”

“Say less.” Monica leaves and Erica follows. “You want one?” You shake your head as they walk off. “How’s Ollie been adjusting?” You ask Vanessa. “He’s been doing great. He still doesn’t talk much but he likes his new school.”

“That’s good. Maybe I can see if there are any more grants you can apply to for him.” She nods and Ollie comes running back. “TT!”

“Look at that! It’s a dinosaur! Do you know what sound a dinosaur makes?”

“Roof!” You shake your head. “No that’s a dog. A dinosaur…roars. Like this, ROAR!” You tickle him and he laughs. “TT!” He tugs you along and you follow him. He points to the hula hoop and you pick it up. You show him how to hula hoop but he doesn’t get it. Which was fine because you just wanted him to have fun.

After playing with Oliver for fifteen minutes he was passed out in your arms. You bring him to his mother and she takes him inside to sleep on the bed with the other babies and toddlers.

You decide to make yourself a plate and you get in line. “Tommie, when are you gonna get married?” Your little loud mouth cousin, Tiffany asks. “When you stop minding my business and mind your own.”

“Oop, not too much.” You roll your eyes but laugh together as you make your plate. You get a few things on your plate and you’re about to reach for some chicken when you feel a pair of arms wrap around your waist.

“Hola, mi amor.” You smile from ear to ear as you turn to Miguel. “Hello to you to-what happened to your eye?” Your boyfriend had a big black eye and you were concerned. “Nothing, it’s just a small bump on my face.”

“Small bump? Miguel it’s looks like some one put their whole fist in your face!” You snap at him. “Geez! What happens to you?” Tiffany asks. You ignore her and grab Miguel’s hand, dragging him into the house.

“It’s nothing really.” He tries to tell you. “Nothing my ass. Sit here and let me get you an ice pack.” You go into the fridge and take out one, then you grab a dish cloth. You wrap the ice pack and you place it on Miguel’s eye. He winces in pain and you cross your arms over your chest.

“I know you’re upset.”

“I’m not upset, concerned yes. I’m curious as well. How is it that my boyfriend came here with a black eye? What happened?”

“Would you believe me if I said it was a door?” He says with a smirk. “Now is not the time to joke, Mr O’Hara!” You glance over and see your Aunties were pretending not to listen. “Come with me.” You drag him to the side porch and close the door behind the two of you.

“Miguel, how?” He sighs and moves the ice pack. “I got into a little fight, it’s no big deal. Honestly the other guy looks worse.” You sigh because there isn’t anything you can do. He is here and that is what you had wanted. “Is that why you’re late?”

“Y..yes. Amor, I am sorry. Let’s go back out there and you can introduce me to your family.” The hesitation in his answer doesn’t go unnoticed but you let it slide for now.

“Right, well I hope you’re hungry because there is a lot of food and there’s a lot of people who want to meet you.” You cup his face in your hands and you kiss his bruised eye. “I promise you Miguel you better had beat them to a bloody pulp for giving you this black eye.”

“You know I did.” He says with a smirk. You lead him back to where your family is and you make him a plate.

••••

After watching Miguel interact with your family for a few hours you felt relaxed. “Baby cakes, come help me with this pan.” You head into the kitchen with your grandmother and she lifts up a pan for you to bring outside.

“No one is gonna take him from you, you don’t have to stare too hard.” Your grandmother teases. “It’s just, he seems so relaxed like he’s met them before.”

“Isn’t that a good thing? Miguel just fits in with the rest of them. And don’t think I haven’t seen the way that man watches you. He stares at you as if you’re his entire universe.” You look back at Miguel and see him playing with Oliver.

“I say by the end of this year you two will be married and expecting.”

“Grandma!”

“Girl don’t grandma me. There is no way that man is going to settle with being your boyfriend. A man like that ought to be a husband.” You sigh and continue to watch Miguel play with Oliver.

As you watch him you get an odd thought. In the thought you see Miguel getting down on one knee and he’s proposing to you. You look down at your hand and you swear you see a ring. When you blink the ring was gone.

You feel dizzy and you almost trip. But you put the pan down and you catch yourself. “You okay baby cakes?” You nod. “I’m okay, I just need some water.” She gets you some water and you look back outside to see Miguel staring back at you.

What the hell was that?

•••

You were sitting on the back porch with Erica and Jerry watching the older folks dance to old school jams. Monica was playing spades with your aunties and Miguel was playing with the kids. “I think this cookout was perfect.” You announced. “Got that right, my stomach is full all I need is a man to cuddle with.”

“Jerry then why fuck are you looking at me?” Erica says narrowing her eyes at him. “Because with those broad shoulders you look like a man.”

“Oh bitch those are fighting words.” They get up ready to play fight but your grandmother gives them the look. “Behave yourselves.” She calls to them. “Yes Mrs. Valentine.” They say in unison as they walk over to grab some more drinks.

You sit back and look up at the stars, feeling happy. “Is that seat taken?” You look over to see Miguel and you smile at him. “Come.” You motion him over and he sits between your legs. “Did you have fun today, mi Corazón?”

“I did actually. And my family loves you. Especially Ollie. He doesn’t take to strangers well but he warmed up to you just fine.”

“I’m glad they like me. Hopefully next year….” He stops talking and you wait for him to continue but he stands up. “Come dance with me.” You take his hand and Stand by me by Prince Royce plays.

“You trust me?” He asks as he sees you’re nervous. “Yes.” You answer him without hesitation. Miguel then places his hand on your lower back and he tells you to follow his lead but don’t watch his feet.

You two move together and you still feel nervous. “Close your eyes and think of a happy place, amor.” He whispers in your ear. You shut your eyes and think for a moment.

When you have the happy place, you move to the beat of the song and Miguel guides your hips. You open your eyes and he was smiling at you as he sang the song to you. You smile so wide, it’s shocking that your face didn’t split in half.

Miguel spins you around and then dips you. As he pulls you back to him, you can’t help but feel your family watching the two of you. You do a move you didn’t know you could do, but it feels like a reflex.

Miguel lets you go and you dance by yourself, moving your long skirt to the beat of the music. You look at him and move your hips as you go to him. To you Miguel was the only thing that mattered to you in this very moment. When you finally go to him the song ends.

“I love you.” You say without hesitation. You then realized what you said and you start to take it back. “Yo tambien te quiero mi amor.” Miguel says with love in his eyes. You hear your family in the background cheering you two on but that doesn’t matter. You get on your tippy toes and you kiss him. He holds you and kisses you back as your family hoots and hollers at the two of you.

Yes this night was perfect…

After you had dropped Jerry and Monica off at their place, you and Erica were walking back into your apartment, with Miguel following behind you.

“How about I spend the night at your place for a change? It’ll give Erica a break from hearing us.” You say as you lean against the door frame. “I’d like that actually. But before you come over let me just go clear up some stuff.” Miguel kisses your lips several times, which makes you laugh. “Baby, go.” You push him back and he takes a small step back. “I love you, Tommie.”

“I love you too, Miguel.” He walks into his apartment and you walk into yours. You sigh like a love sick school girl and bring your leftover plate to the kitchen. When you enter you see Erica standing there reading something.

“What’s that?” You ask putting your plate in the fridge. She turns to you and pretends she wasn’t reading something. “Huh? Oh nothing.” You give her a look. “E, what is that?” You ask again. She sighs and hands you the paper. You read it and it’s about Miguel.

However there is barely anything on the paper. No mentions of his family. No mentions of his birth place. It mentions an ex or two but they had little to no information on Miguel.

“This is a good thing right? He has a clean record.” You try to be optimistic but Erica gives you a sad look. “T, my cousin is the best on getting dirt on anyone. But from what I read, Miguel is a total stranger. Just who have you been dating for the few months?”

You feel a knot of anxiety at the pit of your stomach as you wonder for yourself. “I’ll be right back.” You march out of your apartment and you knock on Miguel’s door.

He answers it after your third knock. “Amor I was just about to come get-what’s wrong?” You enter his place and you take a deep breathe.

“Miguel, be honest with me.” You say to him. “Of course, amor. I’ll always be honest with you.” You give him the paper and he looks it over. He looks up at you in confusion. “You had someone watching me? Why?”

“Because Miguel, even though we’ve been together for months, I really don’t know who you are. And there’s more. When you got hurt back at the restaurant, you had gotten cut badly and I know you did because your blood was on my hands. But a few hours later you were with me and you didn’t have a scratch on you. When I ask about where you grew up you say in Nueva York but you don’t tell me the location. You haven’t told me how you have those fangs and when I try to ask you about your past you change the subject.”

“Tommie, I promise I’ll tell you when the time is righ-”

“No! Tell me now! You show up late to things I invite you to and all you can do is say I’m sorry! What are you hiding from me!”

“You aren’t ready to know!”

“Fine! If it’s going to be like that then maybe we should take a break.”

“No don’t-don’t leave me.” You hear Miguel speak but you already have your hand in the door knob. You don’t want to leave but you need to know why he is acting this way.

He grabs you from behind and you feel his grip tighten on you. “I don’t want you to leave me, when you find out the truth.” You close your eyes and turn with your face in his chest.

“Please, Miguel. Just tell me the truth.” You open your eyes and see those sad hazel eyes looking down at you.

He lets you go and he takes several steps back.

“I should start from the beginning. You know about my work. How I am a scientist and I dabble in gene splicing.”

You suddenly don’t like where this story is going.

“Well, about three years ago, I was working with someone I thought I could trust. He had made many promises to me and I believed every last one of them. However he was dabbling in pharmaceuticals and had released it to the poor part of the public. He had created this…drug called rapture. If you have too much of it you can become addicted to it. I got wind of this and I didn’t want to be part of his company anymore so I told him that I was leaving. He didn’t like that. And I should’ve been smart enough to know he wasn’t going to let me leave so easily. So he had invited me out for drinks and he kept on giving me drinks. But in those drinks he had laced them with ten times the dosage of rapture and I was instantly addicted to the stuff. He told me that if he couldn’t keep me then he was going to ruin me. But with the knowledge I had with my research. I knew how I could break the addiction. I had done the tests on multiple animals, so why wouldn’t it work on a human subject?”

“Miguel, what did you splice your genes with?” You ask with a shake in your voice. He crouches for a second and in a blink he was on the ceiling, crawling around.

You fall flat on your ass and he taps his smart watch that was on his wrist. With strange technology, you watch as a suit molds to his body. He then lands in front of you and you gasp.

“You’re Spide-there’s not fucking way you’re him!” He taps his watch and his mask recedes from his face. “Amor, I am Spider-man. That’s why I’ve been late to a lot of your get togethers. I’ve been well you know.” You blink several times and just stare at him.

Miguel reaches out to touch you but you flinch from his claws. He jerks his hand back. “I apologize, but just know I would never hurt you.” His claws molds back into his fingertips and you slowly stand up. “I should go.” You blurt out. “Wait, Tommie I can understand that this is a shock to you.”

“No, this is more than a shock and I’m about to have a panic attack. Are the walls closing in?” You feel dizzy and he holds you up. But you move from his touch. “Amor, you don’t look to good.”

You feel like you’re about to throw up but you keep it together. “I need to get out of here.”

“But you said you wouldn’t leave.” You can hear the panic in his tone and you want to understand but the panic attack is stronger than your logical mind.

“Miguel, I’m sorry. I have to go.” You manage to open the door and leave his apartment in a rush. “I love you.” You hear him say after you. Before you knew it you were crying as you slammed your apartment door behind you.

“Tommie! What’s wrong?” Erica yells after you. But you ignore her and run to your room. You dive under the covers and you scream into your pillow.

You felt overwhelmed, anxious, and most of all hurt, because if he could hide something that big from you, then what else could he hiding?

The skeletons in his closet were just too much to handle.

••••

You’ve never done drugs before but if you did, then you’d be having withdrawals. You knew he was watching you because there were traces of him around you. When you were at work, you’d see finger prints on the outside of your window.

When you left your apartment, you could smell his scent by the door.

You’d dream about being in his arms, and this was driving you crazy.

Just go back to him!

Your brain was screaming.

But your body was hesitating. Why?

It was after work and you were staying in for the night. Milo was no where to be found and you were sitting there watching Anastasia. Technically the movie was watching you.

You were staring outside, thinking about Miguel. Wondering if he was okay. “This is stupid, you can just go over there and talk to him, Tommie.” You tell yourself. In your mind, you were already at his apartment, telling him how sorry you were for acting the way you did.

You look at your phone and you see he hasn’t messaged you in the past week.

The phone goes both ways. His words ring in your head and you decide to message him.

I’m sorry for the way I acted, I guess it all just became a lot for me to handle. I guess you were right when you said I wasn’t ready.

You erase that and type again.

I was stupid, will you forgive me?

You erase that message as well.

BABY PLEASSSSE!

You roll your eyes and erase that.

As you go to type something better, Miguel’s name pops up on your call screen. You answer it immediately. “Hi…” You breathe into the phone. “Hi, mi corazón. I didn’t think you’d pick up.”

“I didn’t think you’d call. Listen I’m so sorry for the way I acted. You told me something very important and I treated it very childish.”

“No, amor. I should have told you sooner. I apologize.”

“How about we both apologize, and you come over because I’m lonely and Milo is hiding.” Miguel gives a husky laugh. “I will come to you in a se-” You hear a loud crash in the background and you sit up. “Miguel! Miguel are you alright? Answer me!”

“I’ll call you right ba-“ The phone goes dead and you quickly turn to the news. So far nothing had popped up. That’s good news right? That means it’s nothing major. You try to tell yourself.

Dread hits your chest when you see a 'this just in' headline across the screen.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, as you can tell there has been a prison outbreak on the upper west side. Some of the inmates have taken over the jail and a few have escaped….huh? He’s here?”

You see in the far background, Miguel was was swinging into the prison and you were at the edge of your seat.

“Miguel, please be safe. Please be sa-” You see what looks like lights flashing in the prison and you think the worse.

“Baby, please be safe. I need you to be safe.” You pray as you continue to watch the footage.

“A source has said that the escaped prisoners have been located. They were encased in webbing. And-” The news reporter goes silent and nods.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I am happy to inform you that, Spider-Man has gotten the situation under control. I repeat, Spider-Man has gotten the situation under control. The warden as well as staff are all safe and there are no casualties.”

You let out a breathe you didn’t know you were holding and jump when you feel Milo’s little paws on your toes.

“Milo! He did it! My boyfriend did it! Oh my god, I’m dating a super hero! I’m dating Spider-Man! Wait I shouldn’t say that too loud.” You jump up and down with happiness and you give Milo a big kiss on his head then set him back down as you go and take a quick shower before Miguel comes over.

•••

You were freshly showered and wearing a silver night gown as well as a grey headscarf. As you sat in your room with your lap top adding clothes to your cart. You swear you’re going to buy the stuff this time. You then hear a tap to your window.

You look over and you see him, hanging upside down. “Miguel!” You hiss as you run over and open the window down him. He crawls inside and he lands on his feet, towering over you.

His suit recedes off of him and he was your Miguel. “Hola hermosa.” He keeps still and you take a step forward. “Hi, you did good out there.” You say as you place your hands on his chest. He takes them and he kisses them. “That is my other job, amor. I hope you can understand that, if you still want to be together that is who you’ll be with as well.”

You give a sad smile. “I can handle that, though I’ll probably worry about you ten times more than I usually do. And what do you mean if? I still want this to work, you’re not getting rid of me Miguel.” He smiles and he leans down kissing you.

He then rests his head against yours. “Good, because keeping an eye on you has been torture for me. Always being close but never being with you. That hurts me more than getting punched in the face by Vulture.”

“So that’s who punched you? God I heard about him, doesn’t he…eat people?” He nods and he gently moves the lace strap off of your shoulder. “Is this new?” He asks.

“I got this a while ago, I figured you’d like it….” You’ve definitely said that before but when? “I do like it…I’ve missed you. I know it’s only been a week but I’ve missed being this close.” Miguel cups your face and he kisses you deeply.

You’ve missed this as well. His taste, his touch. God you’ve missed this man and your body was finally getting its dose of dopamine.

You break from the kiss first. “Promise me, that you’ll make sure you’re safe out there.” Miguel eyes saddens but you shake your head. “Please promise me.” He sighs and nods. “I promise, amor.” You kiss him and he lifts you up off of the floor bridal style and he places you on the bed.

“Te necesito, I need you so badly it hurts.” Miguel strips off his shirt and tosses it somewhere in your room. You help him with his pants as he kicks off his shoes.

Once he is completely naked, he helps you out of your night gown. You lay back down as Miguel lays on top of you and kisses your neck. “Tell me about your day, amor. I’ve missed your voice.” He whispers against your right breast.

He sucks that breast and you run your fingers through his hair and moan softly. “Today…was tough because I missed you…” You get distracted by the way his tongue rolls over your nipples but you get back into focus in telling him about your day.

“….but I…mmm, I got a lot of work done. I…oh please keep doing that. I checked the calendar and I’m due for a va…vacation, Miguel I can’t keep talking when you lick me like t-” You cut yourself off as watch Miguel crawl back between your legs.

“Fair enough, amor. Then I’ll tell you about my day. But first.” Miguel moves so both of you are laying side by side, but you’re in front of him and he has your leg partly lifted up.

“My day was miserable because I didn’t wake up under you this morning.” Miguel says as he slowly slides inside of you. You arch your back and touch his face as you feel your walls mold around his dick. “Eres tan apretada mi amor. So tight. Mmm, I had saved a woman from being robbed. I made sure…I made sure I kept an eye on you at work, oh shit, make it tighter for me, Tommie. I had lunch on the Statue of Liberty’s crown and I saved a prison from being taken over. But you know what made the day worth it?” He asks as he keeps his slow pace.

“What baby?” You moan as he keeps going in and out of you. “Being here with you. Being with you in this moment…being deep inside of you.” He slows down and he kisses your neck. You lean your head back against him and you feel his fangs gently trace the veins down your throat.

“I love you, I love you so much, Tommie.” He moans as he grips your hips and goes a bit harder with his thrusts but he keeps a slow pace.

“I love you too. I love you too, baby.” You moan out breathlessly. You lift your legs a bit more and feel him go deeper inside of you. You feel him reach down and rub slow circles around your clit and you let out a groan. “Baby, go faster. Please go faster.” You moan out.

“No, no, no, amor. You can take it at this pace. I know you can. I haven’t had this pussy in a week, fuck, I’m going to savor this pretty pussy for a while. But you can take it right? You can take daddy’s dick.” You go stupid for a second and forget how to speak as he keeps the same pace.

The pace he’s going was making a slow and hard build up for you, which made you grip your walls around him. Miguel grips your throat and kisses you deep. “You know exactly what you’re doing with this little pussy. If you keep that up, I’m going to come, amor.” Miguel moans as he starts to pick up the pace. “Please do, please come deep inside of me.” You moan out as he switches positions.

He was now on top of you and he was gripping your headboard as he did deep strokes. You place your hands on his chest and you reach up to pull him close to you. You tug at his bottom lip and your nails finds a way to his back.

Miguel starts to pick up the pace, causing the bed to shake. You start breathing heavy as you feel yourself about to climax. “Ven por mí, princesa. Come for me.” He thrusts harder and you start to stutter out his name. “I’m coming, I’m coming.” You groan as your walls pulse around him. Your nails dig deep into his back and he grabs a hold of you and he does two last stroke before he pumps you full.

You both still as you both come down from the climax high. He stays inside of you and he balances on his elbows. “You are amazing. Tan asombrosa.” You smile and kiss his lips. “You’re the amazing one. You are a super hero. I bet you’ve saved a lot of people.”

That comment made him frown.

He slides out of you causing the both of you to gasp. He then lays beside you and you turn to your side. “What’s wrong?” You ask him as you run a finger over a scar you hadn’t noticed before.

He gently moves your hand from his chest and he holds it. “My job, is just like anyone else’s who has to deal with the public. I have good days and I have bad days. In your eyes I am this amazing person, but amor. There will be days that I will come home to you and I’ll have to have let someone die. This job isn’t full of rewards.”

“Do you want to talk about it? I figured you don’t have anyone to talk to about this.” You offer. “You don’t have to amor. I don’t want to bring you such sadness.”

You sit up and sit criss cross. “Miguel, I have my sad days. Just like you. If there is one thing I can tell you is that, I understand loss. I love my grandparents, I do. But I’ll never have my dad walk me down the aisle. I’ll never have my mom guide me into motherhood. It took a few years of therapy and counseling to tell me that it wasn’t my fault that they passed. Even though I thought it was….” You look down at your fingers and let out a breath you know you’ve been holding since your were thirteen.

“…I was so angry with my parents. Over a missed event, over some play I don’t remember. But I remember that I was angry with them because they told me they wouldn’t be home in time to be with me. I went to bed angry. But when I woke up, my grandparents had told me the news. I felt that because I went to bed angry it was my fault that they were gone. I had so much…anger inside of me. That I had came to hate myself. And you know what they said when you’re an intelligent person. You tend to know how to do dangerous things.”

You look up at Miguel and you close your eyes. “My grandfather found me and I was rushed to the hospital. They had pumped my stomach and I got lectured that my parents wouldn’t have wanted me to take my own life. And I’m not telling you this for sympathy. No, I’m telling you this because I know what it’s like to have bad days, and I was happy later on when I had someone to talk to about it. So, Miguel let me be that person for you. Don’t bottle it up, if you have a bad super hero day then tell me. If you need a hug then my arms are always opened for you.” Miguel sits up and he pulls you into his arms.

“Thank you, Tommie. This helps.” He kisses your temple and you let a yawn escape. “Let’s get some rest.” You nod and grab the sheets and pull it over the two of you.

Miguel pulls you on top of him and you let your head rest on his chest. “Baby, what spider did you splice yourself with?” You ask feeling sleepy.

You feel him stroke a hand against your shoulder and he looks down at you. “If I tell you, you’ll have nightmares. Just know that it isn’t deadly. Well it’s only deadly when threatened.” He gives a soft chuckle and you rub your face into his chest. “Good night.” You whisper as you take a deep breathe and fall asleep in Miguel’s arms…

Previously, Next

#miguel o'hara #watsittoyah #along came a spider 2099 #along came a spider #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x tommie valentine #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x black reader #tommie valentine #spiderman 2099 #spiderman #spiderman 2099 smut #across the spiderverse #spiderman smut #oscar issac smut #oscar issac hernandez estrada

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ciaonicole85 · 24 days

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Part 6: What Then?

It's over kids! The longest and final chapter is done. Chris Storer & Co. are probably going to put our beloveds through it in S3, but until then let's enjoy our low-key angst and romance. Post Season 2, Canon-Compliant, swoony, girly, fluffy. A happy-ending obviously.

After 10 years of grinding himself into dust Carm’s body began to surrender. About a month after The Bear’s opening, he came down with a cold that turned into a low-grade fever, a bitter cough with lime green mucus, night sweats, and mind-numbing exhaustion. After two days Sydney and Fak showed up to his apartment and dragged him to the emergency room. It was pneumonia and dehydration. The young male doctor muttered that his lungs sounded just like his father’s, a 40-year smoker. Yes, pneumonia was the primary reason, but a man Carmy’s age should be in better shape. He was out of commission for a whole week. The regret of letting down The Bear crew so soon after the Friends and Family fiasco motivated him to make a couple changes. First, he allowed himself only one emergency cigarette a day, which he needed less and less. Second, he went outside on Mondays, when the restaurant was closed. If the temperature was over 30℉, he took the train or walked to a park. His favorites were Humboldt and the Garfield Park Conservatory. Today he had come to the latter with his sketchbook and pencils in his backpack. Since the renovation he had continued drawing.

As he went towards to his favorite bench, he noticed a slender woman walking ahead of him. Her height, long swishing braids and jacket were identical to Syd’s. He compulsively began jogging towards her. Before he could call out her name, the woman pounced on a tall lanky man in front of her, wrapping her arms around his waist. Carmen had the sensation of being pushed off a diving board unexpectedly, his stomach pitching forward, unable to breathe much less scream before slamming into the water like a brick. The man turned and picked up Sydney up, planting a kiss on her mouth. He spun her around and…she wasn’t Syd. Thank God.

Carm made his way to the bench and hunched over, his head in his hands. She wasn’t Syd he recanted over and over until the feeling of relief gave way to self-reproach. This time it wasn’t her, but one day it would be. Would he be able to live with that? Uncle Jimmy’s warning not to be an overthinking manichino flashed in his mind. It was time to do something. He took out his sketchpad and began thumbing through it, an idea beginning to take shape. Hopefully, it wouldn’t scare Syd away.

The following Monday Sydney was in her cousin’s salon getting her entire life. Her microbraids were taken out, her hair was washed, deep conditioned, her scalp massaged, and now she was getting box braids put in. They were accented with delicate gold hair cuffs. She drowsed in the chair, with an almost empty to-go container of jollof rice in her lap, as her cousin and another hair stylist quietly discussed the latest season of Love is Blind.

“Sydney babe, would you ever go on Love is Blind?” her cousin, Ashley, asked in a louder tone.

Syd startled and rubbed her eyes.

“Never. That’s insane.”

“I got a message on IG that it’s coming to Chicago. You live and breathe your job so when are you going to meet somebody? Maybe your soulmate is in one of those pods!”

“Why don’t you apply then? You could find “love” and get more exposure for the salon.”

“Same for you and your restaurant ma’am, but I have a man.”

“Since when?”

“Since three months ago. His name is David, he’s a chemical engineer and the son of you know, Ms. Jumoke, she goes to the African church on Mackinaw…St. Paul.”

“Yeah, I remember her. Her sister used to watch me when my dad worked nights.”

“Anyways, back to you. Are you dating anyone, or should I send you the show application?”

“I don’t think love is blind. Have you seen the people they cast? Nobody too unfortunate-looking gets on. It’s so shallow.”

“Ha! You’re one to talk. You have a very distinct type…white boys with tats and muscles.”

“Ashley, there’s been two of them. Like, that’s not a pattern.”

“No, three! This boss, no “partner”, of yours, had Sydney written over him. The family never sees you anymore.”

“I came to lunch at uncle and auntie’s last month! Besides, opening a new business is like having a kid. You know this.”

“Sure, but when I had dinner at your restaurant and you introduced us, he complimented you for five minutes and then followed you to the kitchen like a whipped puppy.”

Sydney grinned biting her lower lip and covered her eyes. Her cousin stopped braiding and hugged her.

“Aww…my baby cousin is finally going to get some!”

“ASHLEY!” Sydney groaned pushing off her cousin’s arms.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop, but I am happy for you. He is sexy. That neck is thicker than a tree stump.”

Sydney who had just taken a sip of her sweet tea, spat it out all over the mirror.

“That’s on you, Ashley!” she choked out between laughing and coughing.

When she was able to contain herself, she tried to reel her cousin back in. Talking about romantic potential with Carmy gave her too much pleasure. If he was content with the status quo she didn’t want to get her hopes up.

“Nothing really is going on. We’re business partners and we’re pretty good friends and it’s probably best we keep it that way.”

“Yes, and he gave you an equal share in the restaurant out of the friendly kindness of his heart.”

“You know, I think he would do that, because I’ve put in so much work, but it did feel like it was something more, at least his Uncle Cicero or Jimmy seemed to think so.”

“Girl, watch out. His sister and an uncle like you!? Would you take his last name, hyphenate, or keep Adamu?”

“Ugh, I’m not going there with you! Shouldn’t you be done with my hair by now?”

“If you want it done right it’ll be 2 more hours. If you don’t…30 minutes?”

“Fine, take your time but please let me sleep.”

Sydney closed her eyes, admiring her self-control. She hadn’t told Ashley that Carmy asked her to come by The Bear this evening. He was reworking a few old dishes. The invite was made at the end of the night a few days ago while they were turning off the lights. She said yes as they pulled down the last switch and she couldn’t see his expression, but she heard him exhale loudly as if he feared she’d decline. Sometimes they meet up on Mondays to network with vendors or collaborate on menu ideas, so this wasn’t out of the ordinary. However, she intuited he was hiding something again like when he and Nat surprised her with a share in the restaurant. This time she didn’t pester him for details, knowing that it was probably worth waiting for.

When Syd arrived home at 3:00 pm she could’ve folded laundry and watched an episode of Psych, but she decided to pretend this was a date; well, like she was preparing for a date. It was a long time since her last. She had entered the Convent of Failed Dreams after Sheridan. Then The Beef/The Bear became her world. The light blue cuffed jeans and stripped white and mint green button-down shirt she was wearing was more than appropriate for a food brainstorming session. However, Carmy’s mysterious attitude might be concealing more great news. She might as well look good when and if he had some.

She took a luxuriously long shower, shaved, and rubbed in her mandarin-scented body oil. Then she entered slowly sifted through her closet considering a red jumpsuit, or just nicer jeans and a blouse when her eyes fell on her marigold-colored shirt dress. It was knee length, comfortable, but chic and the color made her complexion pop. She paired it with a brown and gold oval buckle belt and brown flats because she might be standing in the kitchen for hours. After a short struggle she decided to keep the top two buttons of her shirt dress open. It was only a collar bone, not cleavage. Then she considered makeup. She hated wearing a lot of it; her skin felt suffocated with foundation. She did her brows, applied mascara, a little mineral powder, a smidge of highlighter on her cheekbones, and finished with the Fenty “Hot Choclit” gloss bomb her cousin had given her as part of a set for Christmas. Her new braids with the gold cuffs made the look even better and Sydney couldn’t help admiring herself more than usual in her floor-length mirror. She felt so delicious that she ordered an Uber rather than sit on the train. She would take it later or maybe Carm would give her a ride home.

Just before she could lock the door Emmanuel came up the stairwell, his face lighting up.

“My baby girl, you are stunning! Where are you headed?”

“Thanks, daddy. I’m just going to the restaurant. Felt like dressing up for once.”

“So, is it a staff meeting?”

“No, just working on some recipes. I gotta go. My Uber’s waiting.”

Emmanuel leaned against the door and nodded with a sly smile.

“Oh okay, I see. Tell Carmen I said hello. Have fun!”

Sydney’s eyes widened and she ran down the stairs waving goodbye. Her voice couldn’t be trusted.

When the car arrived at the restaurant, the sky was overcast, the evening darker than usual for the time of year. She let herself in and observed the layout. The lights were low, and the back center booth was set for dinner, with a single table candlelit. She could see Carmy in the kitchen already sautéing something. She was headed towards him when he looked up, seeing her through the window and rushed to meet her in the front.

“Syd don’t-” he began before he was immobilized by the vision before him.

Sydney was similarly taken with him and marveled at how often they were of the same mind. Carm was wearing a crisp button-down blue shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, the shirt tucked into dark navy pants, and he had gotten a haircut. Somehow it made his eyes stand out more. The sides were moderately tapered, his hair on top remained almost as long as before, and one of his rogue curls was damp against his forehead. He was perspiring, apparently having been cooking for a while.

“Nice haircut”, “You look amazing” they began at the same time and laughed nervously.

Carmy started again, beating his trusty spoon against his palm.

“So, the food is almost done. Just have a seat over there and I’ll be right out.”

Sydney nodded, a little confused and excited for this change of plans. She sat in the booth and noticed the speakers were playing The Teskey Brothers’ “Take My Heart.” She leaned back and closed her eyes letting the lyrics wash over her, her emotions stirring with that sweet ache.

“Take the time to notice what you really need, 

You’ll find it’s a little more simple, than what you thought before,

But I can say for certain that I’ve got more than I ever had before,

By remembering the little things that make my heart warm.

So take my heart and cut it into two,

After all the only thing missing from me was you,

You’re all I want, you’re all I need, you’re the air I breathe,

Cause after all the only thing missing from me was you.”

“Hey, are you good?” Carmy asked approaching the booth with their plates.

Sydney sat up and cleared her throat.

“Yes, I’m good. I really like that song. Reminds me of-“

“Otis Redding?”

“Yeah.”

Carm carefully placed the plates on the table.

“Well, speaking of throwbacks, I made-”

“Pork confit with onions and rhubarb!”

“Yes, and after we’ll have Milk and Honey.

Sydney bit the inside of her mouth trying to absorb what seemed to be happening. Carm muttered something about getting their drinks and went to the bar for their club sodas. Sydney remained mute, not knowing if she should ask him what this meant now or let it play out. “Don’t get ahead of yourself”, she admonished her heart.

He returned to the booth with their drinks and encouraged her to start, rubbing his chin as she put the first bite in her mouth.

“That’s it Carmy. Maybe even better than the first time,” Syd purred the pork melting on her tongue and some of her anxiety with it.

He blushed and began eating too.

“It is pretty good. Eleven Madison Park taught me a lot.”

The meal was mostly silent except for the occasional ejaculation over some element of the dish. Carmy couldn’t help gazing at Syd, taking in each detail, and rejoicing in the whole. The dip above her collar bone that rose and fell whenever she swallowed, made his head swim. Her lovely face was absolutely regal framed by her new box braids. Syd’s brown skin glowed in the candlelight and a heavenly citrus scent emanated from her. Whenever her eyes caught his obvious staring, he was too filled with gratitude to look away. Sydney’s eyes were soft and filled with kindness for this dear, lovestruck man. He looked helpless. In moments like this she remembered her capacity to build or obliterate him at will. “Go with the flow” she reminded herself.

After they finished the main, Carmy took their plates and returned, with dessert, Milk and Honey. Syd lit up at the sight and when she tried it a wave of surprise flitted across her face.

"Is that mango? I didn't taste it at first, but then it like...bloomed at the back. Wow!"

"I thought it could use a Sydney twist. You always grab the mango lollipops off Sug's desk."

She resumed eating her dessert. Carm noticed everything about her. She'd played the Teskey Brothers, once or twice while they cleaned after a service, comparing them to Otis.

The Milk and Honey was devoured too soon and just as she wondered what else was on the agenda, Carmy took their bowls and returned with a package tied with twine. He set it in front of her, hands trembling, and sat a little further away than before. Syd perceiving his anxiety didn't raise any questions. She untied the string, removed the wrapping paper, revealing a red leather hand-bound notebook. The cover was engraved with her initials. On the first page was one of Carmy's drawings. It was a curbside view of The Bear. Several lined pages followed, then a drawing of the grapes in bone marrow broth. This alternating of lined pages and his pictures continued throughout the thick notebook. There were more pictures of their recipes, the various designs of her head scarves, and some were of her in different attitudes. In one she was leading expo with the confidence of Napoleon, and another was a portrait, her chin leaning on her hand, with a faraway expression in her large brown eyes. There were several others, so perceptive that Sydney felt naked. Adored. The final picture was surreal. It was a profile of Carmy's head the entirety of which was filled with Sydney wearing a hopeful smile and the scarf and shirt she'd worn her first day at The Beef.

She couldn't stop looking at it, her index finger tracing the lines.

"Sy-d" Carmen croaked his voice thick.

Breaking.

She looked up to find red-brimmed blue eyes searching hers.

"Come here" she breathed and no sooner than she blinked he was at her side.

"Syd" he tried again. Hyperventilating.

"Say more", she gently commanded smoothing his hair back before taking his hand in her lap.

This disarmed him, and he grinned in surprise. That was his line.

"Okay."

Breathe

"I want you Syd. I want to be with you.”

Breathe

“I want to do everything with you or not at all."

Then for the first time he wanted to say the words that had been a weapon for most of his life. They either were forced on him or yanked from him. His mother thought those words meant meekly submitting to her abuse. For Mikey it was cutting him off, so he wasn't exposed to his self-destruction. He never got to say it all. Claire believed it was part of a script. If he would only play his role and ignore who they were underneath, those words would become true enough.

Now, he had a new idea about those words, and they were wrapped up in this beautiful, talented, funny, tender, generous, stubborn, loyal, woman. His friend.

Suddenly they didn't hurt. He continued leaning to rest his forehead on hers.

"I love you."

Sydney blinked slowly as if in a trance, tears dropping to their joined hands.

Carm didn't move, but his face was filled with concern.

'Syd, are you-" he started to ask. Then he was spinning.

Sydney kissed him.

His neurons habitually used to process grief, anxiety, and small doses of happiness, trembled with the unusual amount of joy coursing through him.

Sydney was delirious. Her only thought was, he loves me.

Carmy couldn't close his eyes. The curve of her soft cheek so near his made him want to cry.

Then he did, for Sydney said,

"I love you, too."

#the bear #Please schedule an intervention if I post any more fics this weekend #sydcarmy #sydney x carmy #carmy x sydney #sydney adamu #fan fiction #syd adamu #carmy berzatto #carmy the bear #carmen berzatto #sappy #slow burn

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sissa-arrows · 6 months

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The imam of the Great Mosque of Paris asked for proof of the 1200 antisemitic attacks since October 7th. The same day he was summoned back on TV to apologize for saying that… because asking for proof is denying the existence of antisemitism.

Except this is complete bullshit. Without denying antisemitism this is 100% legitimate for a simple reason. They keep on mentioning 1200 attacks since October 7th but they count Free Palestine tags as an attack. Fuck apartheid is also counted as an attack. And somehow writing “Fuck antisemitism” is antisemitic. They also count blue David stars tagged in Paris to support Israel (Zionist are paying people to do it) as antisemitic attacks. A comedian joking about Netanyahu being “Hitler without foreskin” is also an antisemitic attack in France.

The ONLY thing that was broadcasted and would qualify as an attack was a Jewish woman who got stabbed except it’s starting to look like the RER D 2004 “attack”. The Police and doctors are suspecting that it was a self inflicted wound and that the woman is lying.

In a country that refuse to count attacking an older North African man and telling him “Dirty Arab I’m going to cut you into pieces and send you to Jerusalem” as racist but count “Fuck antisemitism” as antisemitic it is 100% legitimate to want to know what are the 1200 attacks they keep mentioning. Especially when those attacks are weaponized to make targeting North Africans legitimate and when we are blamed for every attack without proof (Zionists paying a white non muslim couple to tag blue David star was pinned in Muslims for days even AFTER the couple was caught)

Note: The 2004 RER D “attack” is something I will never forget. It’s one of my earliest memories of “oh so they hate me because I’m Algerian and Muslim”

January 2004 a woman is found crying on a bench with cuts on her body, antisemitic slurs and Nazis symbols written on her belly and arms as well as her hair cut. She explains that she is Jewish and that she was attacked in the subway by a group of North African men. She says they tried to steal her stroller for one of their sisters that they took her handbag and when they saw where she lived they said “An Ashkenazi Jew? You guys are rich…” All politicians and medias immediately jumped on it hated on North Africans for the rise of antisemitism. Started claiming that North African/Algerians were bringing the “conflict between Palestine and Israel” in France. I was 9 and it was really horrific because I knew that what happened was unacceptable but I also felt that they were using it to hate on us Muslims. Then the media kinda stopped talking about it and this story stayed in the back of my mind for years just a memory. A couple months ago a song from a French Algerian rapper was suggested to me. I listened to it and it was about this story. Except the song said it was fake… so I looked it up and found out that the reason the story died down in the media is that 2-3 days after it came out the investigation proved that it was all fake. The surveillance camera showed that the woman never got in the subway neither did any group looking like the one she described, they found the knife and pen that were used on the woman’s body in her own apartment and when faced with the evidences she admitted that the story was fake she did the cuts and writing herself with the help of her partner… like 29 years old me learning that one of the things that made 9 years old me realize how much the country where I was born hates me was based on a white woman lying and because in her lie Arabs were antisemitic savages people believed her and went with it…

#france #islamophobia #french islamophobia #antisemitism #colonialism

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qqueenofhades · 1 year

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Do you think Barack Obama was a good president?

For the most part, yes. The fact that he got elected in the first place (and in a landslide) was nothing short of miraculous, but those of you on the younger side don't remember just how FUCKING FED UP the entire country was with Dubya and his bullshit. It didn't really matter if you were Democrat or Republican. Everyone hated him, especially when he went out in 2008 by causing a generational economy-crashing cataclysm. For him to go from a 91%+ approval rating just after 9/11, to the low 20s by the time he left office, shows just how sick and tired everyone was with him, and how we fondly (ha) imagined that he would be the worst American president in our lifetime. How very innocent we were.

The fact that Obama, a black guy with the middle name Hussein, who had not even a full term as a US senator as his only real meaningful political experience, could come in there and win is a feeling that honestly is nothing like anything anyone had experienced in politics before. I remember staying up with my family (I was studying abroad in the UK) over phone/Skype until the race was called for Obama around 3am, and one of my classmates ran outside the flat in delirium yelling "OBAMA WON!!!" The pictures of elderly African-Americans just crying their eyes out on that night, and the way they still look at Barack and Michelle now, is special. Yes, of course the reality didn't totally live up to the promise of that moment, but man, for a little while there, it really felt like we had changed the entire paradigms on which this stupid flawed country had been built from the beginning. I can't imagine we'll feel like that again for a long, long time.

Obama managing to save the economy (as noted before, it's a theme that Democratic presidents have to come in and clean up the ungodly mess left by Republicans) and pass the Affordable Care Act, even as watered-down as it was from what he wanted, were two very significant accomplishments. Where he fell short, however, was in his dealings with said Republicans, and obviously not all of this was his fault. Obama was intensely conscious of his position as a political newcomer AND that he was a black guy. The level of racism, vitriol, and sheer ugliness that he (and his family) faced from all quarters was (and is) yeah. We got the Tea Party, the "birthers," and the rest of the radical-right lunatics out in full force, and Obama was aware that he was going to get blamed for everything and then some. He also wanted to think that the Republicans would throw a hissy fit and then get over it and work with him. They didn't. Not for one single day. Not on anything. Just because he was a Democratic black guy. That was all it took, and they stuck to it even as Obama kept reaching for the football and thinking that THIS time, surely they would be reasonable. They weren't. On anything. Ever.

Likewise, the Democrats were caught unprepared by the special election for Ted Kennedy's Massachusetts senate seat, which they lost (taking them from a filibuster-proof 60-seat majority to 59, after which the Republicans accordingly filibustered everything and the Democrats didn't push hard enough to stop them/change the rules). They also seemed to just assume that hey, the country voted for Obama in 2008, they'd clearly do it again in 2010, and they didn't really hype up the ACA or campaign for it or anything like that. So they got shellacked to the tune of 60+ House seats lost in 2010, and then lost the Senate in 2014, allowing Mitch McConnell to flat-out blockade Merrick Garland's SCOTUS nomination (who Obama picked to fill Antonin Scalia's seat) and get away with it. Obama was also not nearly as assertive about nominating judges as Biden has been, though it's also the case that Trump hadn't yet packed the benches with an endless conveyor belt of unqualified uber-conservative hacks. Once again, I think this is a reflection of Obama's overall political inexperience and the fact that he felt he had to "play nice" or get pigeonholed as the "angry black guy," which he then did anyway. So it really was a catch-22.

Online Leftists always like to yelp about "Obama ordering a lot of drone strikes!!!", as if they a) know anything else about American foreign policy, b) are at all interested in criticizing Trump for using EVEN MORE (by like... a lot, and nearly starting WWIII when he killed the Iranian general with one), or c) ever consider the overall ungodly fucking mess that Obama was ALSO left with in Iraq and Afghanistan. I'm not about to defend or agree with that either, but it's disingenuous (as per usual with them) to suggest that that was the only thing Obama did during his presidency and/or that he should be judged on that alone. They also like to pretend that he faced no racism at all, that he could have just "codified Roe vs. Wade and didn't!", that there were no double standards in how he was treated by the press, the political establishment, and the American people, and so on.

So: overall, yes, I think Obama had good intentions and tried to do the right thing. He failed at certain major parts of that, both because of the Republicans and because he didn't have the experience to challenge them or know how to work around them, and because he was in an utterly impossible position. The intense white backlash that gave rise to Trump showed that contrary to what anyone liked to think about Obama's election heralding a "post-racial" era, it was back and more ugly and public than it had been in a long time. It was also surprising that our first black president was a Democrat, and not a Republican shill like Tim Scott and/or Clarence Thomas, who has been allowed to rise in the party only because he faithfully repeats all the maxims of the (white) GOP ruling class. So the sheer strength of Obama Derangement Syndrome, which persists today, has to figure into any appraisals of either what he did or what he could have reasonably been expected to accomplish, and I don't think people get that.

#anonymous #ask #politics for ts

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viadescioism · 7 months

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Praise houses

Praise houses were small, wooden structures used for worship by enslaved people in the American Southeast. They were also known as prayer houses. Praise houses were typically built within plantation complexes. They were often an elder enslaved individual's cabin.

Praise houses were a part of the early history of the Black church. There is evidence of Christian practice and praise houses from before the first organized Black denominations.

In praise houses, enslaved African Americans held religious services, shared news, and settled disputes. Services were typified by singing, prayer, and the "shout," which was a song accompanied by vigorous hand-clapping and dancing. As an act of resistance, congregants would gather in circle to stomp or shout upon the wooden floors, performing what was known as the Ring Shout.

These gatherings were not only religious but also a form of resistance and a means of preserving cultural and spiritual traditions in the face of oppression.

youtube

"The true shouť takes place on Sundays or on 'praise'-nights through the week, and either in the praise-house or some cabin in which a regular religious meeting has been held. Very likely more than half the population of the plantation is gathered together. Let it be the evening, and a light-wood fire burns red before the door to the house and on the hearth.… The benches are pushed back to the wall when the formal meeting is over, and old and young, men and women, sprucely-dressed young men, grotesquely half-clad field hands—the women generally with gay handkerchiefs twisted about their heads and with short skirts, boys with tattered shirts and men's trousers, young girls barefooted—all stand up in the middle of the floor, and when the 'sperichil' is struck up, begin first walking and by-and-by shuffling round, one after the other, in a ring. The foot is hardly taken from the floor, and the progression is mainly due to a jerking, hitching motion, which agitates the entire shouter, and soon brings out streams of perspiration. Sometimes they dance silently, sometimes as they shuffle they sing the chorus of the spiritual, and sometimes the song itself is also sung by the dancers. But more frequently a band, composed of some of the best singers and of tired shouters, stand at the side of the room to 'base' the others, singing the body of the song and clapping their hands together or on the knees. Song and dance are alike extremely energetic, and often, when the shout lasts into the middle of the night, the monotonous thud, thud of the feet prevents sleep within half a mile of the praise-house."

— New York Nation, May 30 , 1867

#black history #spirituality #Christianity #Black Church #religion #Youtube

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kimolisai · 2 months

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Using Bing Create with the prompt: An african american woman reading a book on a bench next to a beautiful leafy lake with a playful tree nearby. Masterfully crafted with brushstrokes and dreamy tones of subtle greens, blues and silvers, serene aesthetic. Alcohol ink art canvas in a quiet forest

#ai artwork #ai generated #ai image #bing create #bing image creator #generative art #melanin poppin #black is beautiful #black girl magic #blktumblr #blkcreatives #blkgirldaily #black tumblr

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totallyshattered · 1 year

Text

5-Star Ride

Alison's plane touched down, and she was so relieved to finally be home!

She trudged off the plane, still in the button-down blouse, pencil skirt and heels she'd been wearing in Chicago. In the rush to get out of her hotel room that morning, Alison had forgotten to pack her duffel bag with a change of clothes for the flight. She hadn't realized the mistake until after she checked her suitcase. and the uncomfortable clothes just added to her weariness.

The whole trip had been exhausting. Well, less of a trip, more of a tour. Alison hadn't been home in almost 3 months. She worked as an aide and layout designer to an advertising executive, Mr. Alexander Tennyson, and they'd been doing a cross country campaign for a new pharmaceutical product line.

She’d been transferred under Mr. Tennyson specifically for the campaign and had spent nearly every waking moment of the previous six months with him. He was a tall, Oxford-educated man of African descent with impeccable taste and skill at their business. His deep voice, chiseled features, well-pressed suits, and almost imperial manner had enamored Alison the entire time.

Alison had been at his beck and call, working on the project itself, running errands, getting food, and doing everything Mr. Tennyson and the firm had needed. She’d gotten PAID, but 12-hour days had been the norm, they were in a new city every few days, and then there had been that little incident where she'd gotten drunk and fucked Mr. Tennyson two weeks before the end of the tour.

She shivered, thinking about it. It had been incredible. She'd fantasized about him since she was transferred under him, and when they'd finally hooked up, he was so manly and masterful, he took complete control of the night, and she had let him do things she'd never have dreamed.

But, in the cold light of day, she'd been mortified that she'd given in to her lusts and had rejected him far too harshly the next morning when Mr. Tennyson had tried to broach the subject. The hurt in his eyes haunted her, and the cold deadness that followed had made her cry in her lonely hotel room more than once since.

He hadn't mentioned it again, and he'd remained completely professional, but it was obvious that he was still upset and just going through the motions with her. Alison felt she didn't owe him anything, but she knew she'd handled it wrong and was ignoring all of her feelings from the last half-year.

Deep in her own thoughts, she wandered listlessly to baggage pickup, grabbed her suitcase, and headed to the exit while her regrets and snippets of their passionate night spiraled through her brain.

Not that it mattered anymore, she sighed to herself. He’d probably transfer her away soon now that the job was done.

As she neared the exit, Alison pulled out her phone to set up a ride-share home. She changed accounts to select the corporate account, so she didn't have to go through the pain in the ass of expensing it but was only half paying attention as she swiped through the options.

When she hit submit, her phone buzzed, and the app made a sound she hadn't heard before. She frowned and checked the status. It looked normal, scanning for rides, so she shrugged it off.

She exited the airport and was immediately hit by an icy blast that her light overcoat could not compensate for. Alison shrieked and ducked back into the relative shelter the building offered.

Alison asked one of the porters if she could sit inside and wait, but was told, no, all ride-share clients had to sit in the loading zone. She tried to give him the sad kitty face, but no go.

Finally, she trudged out, found a seat in the ride share waiting area, and hugged her arms around herself, shivering.

Then she waited.

And waited.

Aaaaaannnnd waited until, at some point, she dozed off on the bench despite the brisk wind.

Alison dreamed about Mr. Tennyson. Dreamed about begging forgiveness, dreamed about submitting to him again, and dreamed about servicing his every desire.

Sometime later, she was wrenched from her dreamers sleep by a firm shake.

"Hello, young lass, are you waiting for a ride?" Asked a nondescript, middle-aged man in a bomber jacket and newsboy cap. His voice had a slight brogue that she couldn’t identify in her bewildered state.

Alison shook her head, "...ride? Oh, yes! I'm sorry, I was waiting, and I must have dozed off!"

She tried to stand on shaky legs when the driver scolded her, "Sit down, you daft girl. Stay there and let me do my job."

If she were more awake, she probably would have snapped back, but tired as she was, she obeyed his order.

The driver loaded her bags into a surprisingly nice town car and then opened the door, beckoning her inside. Alison was still a bit shaky when she stood, but she made it into the car before collapsing on the seat.

Oooo, she thought, it was so warm in the car, and the seats were even heated!

Now, wrapped in warmth, her sluggishness returned tenfold, and she smiled slightly as the driver got in and began the trip. He called himself Shane and told her he'd get her to her proper destination.

Shane did the normal driver shtick, asking her questions about herself, her trip, her job, etc. Allison answered the questions far less guarded than she would normally because she felt so warm, so drowsy, that she didn’t think to hold back. She only just managed to stop herself from describing her night with Mr. Tennyson.

Shane wasn't fooled, though. He zeroed in on her sudden silence, “Did something happen between you, and your boss?"

Allison flushed, "Um, that's not really your business, Shane."

"Sir," he corrected sharply.

The directness startled Allison, "Wait, what?"

"You should address men properly when they are leading you," he elaborated condescendingly. "I am leading you to your proper destination, you should address me with respect. You call Mr. Tennyson 'sir' when he directs you, don't you?"

Alison's bleary mind tried to latch onto a coherent response, but all that came out was, "Yes, sir."

"Good girl," he responded smugly.

Alison flushed.

"Now, tell me what happened?"

The story flowed out of Alison. Every detail.

Drinking a few too many cocktails at the client mixer.

Shamelessly making out with Mr. Tennyson after the client called it a night.

Grinding on his bulge on the dance floor.

Being ordered to come to his hotel room and practically creaming herself.

Actually cumming when he'd pulled her head down to suck his huge cock from the passenger seat of the rental.

His hidden fingers buried in her cunt from behind while she desperately tried not to make a sound during the seemingly endless elevator ride to his suite.

Being stripped and servicing him on her knees in the entryway of the room.

Giving and getting licked, sucked, and fucked on every surface in the room and in every position Mr. Tennyson twisted her pliable body into.

Feeling his bare rod fill her unprotected pussy with potent cum at least four times before they’d passed out.

Waking up to being taken and filled again during the night, and then falling asleep with his cock in her mouth when he ordered her to clean it with her mouth.

And finally, the shame, the panic she’d felt the next day, and her subsequent mistreatment of her boss.

Alison was mortified, beyond embarrassed, and almost impossibly turned on as she finished the story.

Shane, smirking, but saying nothing, offered her a drink that looked like a flavored sparkling water.

After that whole train wreck, a drink sounded good to her though she wished it was something stronger. Shouldn’t she be home by now?

The liquid inside was a bright neon pink color, the kind she'd loved as a teen, but had tried to distance herself from as an adult. At that moment, the nostalgic feeling of pink was a comfort instead of an embarrassment.

Alison hesitantly took the bottle, but before she could open it, Shane reached back and grabbed her wrist firmly, but without pain.

"What do you say, girl?" He growled.

Despite her exhaustion, adrenaline spiked through her. Her mind searched for the answer while her eyes were locked with his harsh gaze. Finally, she sputtered out, “Thank you! Uh, sir. Thank you, sir!”

He smiled at her, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Better, but that’s twice. You’d better not forget yourself again on this ride.”

Rattled, Alison finally got the bottle opened and sipped the saccharine liquid, and to her surprise, the drink even tasted pink. She giggled and took another sip, trying to keep her dignity, but just ended up gulping it down, little rivulets of pink escaping her lips dripping on her black coat.

Alison finished the bottle in one long draught and felt a different kind of warmth pour through her. Goosebumps raced down her body as if she was being caressed with slender fingers. She gasped for air at the feeling and then began giggling again.

"Have another," Shane ordered her. Part of Alison tried to rebel against being commanded, but the Pink told her to be a good girl and have another.

“Yes sir. Thank you, sir,” said the Pink Ali.

Alison opened the second bottle and began to gulp the oversweet elixir down. The feelings intensified, and she felt the heat surge through her.

It was so hot, and it felt so good, but at the same time, she was so tired, all she could do was moan, giggle, and drift.

Shane’s voice cut through the haze, “Doesn’t it feel good when you do what you’re told?”

“Uh, um, what?” Mumbled Alison. She couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t think.

“I told you to take a drink, you did it, and then you felt good, right you stupid girl?” Asked Shane.

“Yes… but, the drink,” Alison tried to respond. She felt so strange. Were her clothes tighter? Did her tits always bulge out from her shirt like that?

“No,” he cut her off. “You already felt good when you obeyed, didn’t you?”

“…yes”

“And then when you obeyed again, and took another drink, and it felt even better, correct?”

“Yes…”

“So,” the sneering Shane concluded, “It feels good when you obey.”

“Yes.”

“Good girl, good girl.”

Pink Ali beamed. Yes, she was a good girl, she obeyed.

“It’s proper for a stupid lass like you to obey men.”

“No, not… not stupid,” Alison responded.

“Yes, you are stupid,” Shane confirmed, smirking. “You don’t respect men properly, you don’t have any manners and need instructions like a child, and you tell all of your personal business to perfect strangers. Only stupid girls do that.”

“Yes, yes I’m so stupid,” agreed Ali as Alison subsided again.

“You are a stupid girl. Stupid girls obey and respect men. You should always obey and respect men.”

“Yesss…,” Ali was getting stronger. Her skirt felt tight, her panties wedged between her big ass cheeks.

“It feels good to obey, and stupid girls need to obey men. Men like Mr. Tennyson,” continued Shane.

At the mention of Mr. Tennyson, Ali moaned, “Ohh, yessss…”

“It feels good to obey Mr. Tennyson. You always have to obey him like a servant, don’t you?”

Alison clawed her way back, “No… not always… not a servant… just a job…”

“Stupid girl!” Scolded Shane. Alison winced, tried to hold on. “It is your job to do whatever Mr. Tennyson says to do so he can do his work, yes?”

“Uh, uh, yes,” stammered Alison losing her grip.

“If you have to do whatever he tells you all the time, it means you always obey him, and obedience feels good.”

“Yessss,” Ali agreed, she started rubbing her plumping thighs. They were so smooth. Her nails were so cute and pink.

“You obey everything Mr. Tennyson says, obeying him feels good. Servants always obey, it’s their job. You are his servant.”

“I… I am… servant,” Ali wheezed, feeling so good.

“Good girl,” Shane rewarded Ali. Ali beamed, and her fingers slipped into her thong to rub her pussy.

Shane continued, “You are Mr. Tennyson’s servant. You love to obey him. It feels good. It makes your stupid girl cunt drip.”

“YES” Ali gushed, figuratively and literally.

“You take care of all his needs. Whatever he needs, you obey, right?”

Alison made a desperate surge. “No, not… not everything he needs… Not... everything…” She was getting weaker and weaker. It felt so good to let Ali talk. It was easier. Felt so good. Why was she trying so hard?

“Yes, everything,” Shane reinforced. “Remember when you took care of his needs as a man. When he told you to follow, you followed. When he told you to suck, you sucked. When he told you to fuck, you fucked. When he told you to cum, you came.”

“Oh yes! Yes!” Ali groaned happily. She began stroking her other fingers across her cock sucking lips. They felt so good, they felt so much bigger, so much more sensitive, like she had another clit on her lips.

“Heehee, pussy mouth,” Ali giggled.

Shane rolled his eyes and continued, “So, obeying Mr. Tennyson doesn’t just feel good. It makes your pussy wet. Stupid girls like you get wet when they obey strong men like Mr. Tennyson.��

“I… I… “ Alison tried to deny it.

“You obey Mr. Tennyson. Obeying him makes your pussy wet. You are wet for Mr. Tennyson. Say it!”

“I get wet from Mr. Tennyson!” cried Ali, exultantly. Her fingers were buried in her pussy now. She pinched the nipple of one of her massive tits that had finally burst free of her blouse.

“If you obey Mr. Tennyson, and obeying makes you wet, and you do anything for him including taking care of his manly needs, you aren’t just a servant, you’re a slave.”

“Noooooo…,” wailed Alison weakly. There wasn’t much left of her.

“You are a stupid girl who only obeys him. Your only value is serving him and servicing him. You help him do his work. You drain his cock. It’s all you’re good for,” Shane grinned at her in his review mirror, enjoying her transformation. “You are his slave.”

“Yes! Yes, Ali is Mr. Tennyson’s slave!” Ali squealed happily. She wanted to cum so bad. She wanted to cum on Mr. Tennyson’s cock.

“Slaves don’t call their owners by their names,” Shane told her. “What do they call him?”

“Mmmmaasstteeerrrrr!!!” Ali exulted. It seemed Alison was gone.

“Good slave,” said Shane, his job done. “Now, don’t cum until your Master tells you. He would be very angry.”

Ali gasped, “Oh no, I’ll be a good girl, I won’t cum until Master says so!” It was so hard, she was so warm, so wet, so horny, she wanted to cummmm. But she had to obey!

Ali continued to edge, the rest of the world forgotten. She vaguely heard Shane talking, but not to her.

“Yes sir, it’s done. I’ll be there in a few minutes. You should bring a blanket. Mmhm. Mmhm. Yes, Mr. Tennyson, I expect payment on delivery”

Ali heard him say Master’s name! She was going to Master! Shane was so nice to take her to Master!

The car finally pulled up to a gated, modest sized, but elegant house with a well-manicured lawn. The electric gate opened, and Shane pulled in.

All 6’4” of Mr. Alexander Tennyson waited at the bottom of the steps, a blanket slung over his arm.

Shane stopped, got out, and opened the passenger door. The smell of sugar and arousal flowed out. Tennyson smirked at the vision inside. A caricature of his assistant sat, head back, eyes closed, fingers pumping in her cunt, awaiting her new life.

“Come here, Alison,” he ordered.

Ali’s eyes fluttered open, and she set her eyes on Master. She cried out for him and leapt from the car. She embraced him and burst into tears.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry,” the tiny remaining shred of Alison sobbed out. “I love you, Master. I always wanted to be yours!”

Tennyson’s face softened. He bent down, wrapped her in the blanket, and lifted her, holding her close to his chest. He whispered to her, “I know, Alison. I forgive you. I love you, too. Now you’re mine forever.”

Ali fell asleep in his arms as Master carried her into her new home.

----------

Shane picked up all the luggage he had stowed in the car and took it into the house and feeling very smug at another job well done.

The Full-Service package was expensive, but he guaranteed satisfaction.

Shane checked his phone, making sure the wire transfer had gone through. He confirmed it, closed the door, and got back into his car.

Just as he was about to drive off, he felt a buzz at his elbow. It was the bimbo’s phone, still open, and sitting on the completed screen for the ride-share app. She’d never even noticed the destination change or the Full-Service package request. Stupid girl.

He picked up the phone, smiled evilly, and rated the trip 5-stars. Shane always took them where they needed to go.

#mind conditioning #hypnotic sex #breast expansion #ass expansion #bimboization #unprotected sex #snowbunny #My Alli

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