Tumgik
#that i want the link to be attached to it juST NEVER WORKS
raph-x-reader-logs · 2 days
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Masterlist
I would like to preface this with a disclaimer that I do not own TMNT and I am not a writer! This is a collection of all the Raphael writings I can find, so it would be easier to binge-read for my favorite turtle.
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Directions:
This is fairly simple and straightforward, but I'll add some directions just in case!
The master list is split into different iterations, genres, points of view, and then reader types. If the section gets too long (which I'm expecting they will) a new page will be created and linked on this post.
Each link will take you exactly where you want to go within this blog! This exempts the posts with a cut in them, those links will take you directly to the blog where the story is posted.
As for AO3 links, if the story has multiple chapters, it will take you to the "Entire Work" version so you can binge the whole fic.
Rules:
I am open to any suggestions or submissions! HOWEVER, within this Masterlist, you will not find the following:
OC x Raph
Canon x Raph
TCEST x Raph
Now that all of that stuff is out of the way; Enjoy!! :D -Pinto🌱
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Fluff
NSFW
Angst
Just Friends by @theyhavetakenovermylife , 2POV, fem! reader, NSFW too, Summary: Raph has trouble juggling his mission and his feelings for you.
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Fluff
NSFW
Angst
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Fluff
Focus by @pebblestar , 2POV, gn!reader, Summary: Raph helps you focus, whether he likes it or not.
NSFW
Angst
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Fluff
NSFW
Angst
Acceptance by RubyRaspberry , AO3, 2POV, Hurt and Comfort, fem!reader, Summary: The Nightwatcher's made it his personal mission to knock every thug in New York into the dirt, all while keeping his vigilante identity a secret from both the public and his own family. He liked to think the gig was going pretty well, at least until he met you and his entire world turned upside down. Problem is, he's growing far too attached to his new best friend as lies beget more lies... and you've still never seen his real face behind the mask. Yeah, he's royally screwed.
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Fluff
NSFW
Angst
A Reasonable Turtle by @thejudiciousneurotic , 2POV, gn!reader, Yandere, Summary: Raphael wasn't an unreasonable turtle—at least that's what he told himself with each hit of his fists, relentlessly beating the man who dared to try to take you from him.
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Fluff
Raph with S/O who has particular sleeping habits by @novasintheroom , 2POV, gn!reader, hc format
Spring Fever by @dontlookatmytmntcollection , 3POV, fem!reader , suggestive ending, Summary: Raph is upset you have to go into work.
Raphs Karma pt 1 / pt 2 / pt 3 by @tmntxreader-fics , 2POV, gn!reader, Summary: You leave your best friend Raphael for school and return a few years later to a tank of a turtle. Will you be able to hide your feelings from him?
Bad Child by @tmntxreader-fics , 2POV, gn!reader, slight angst, Summary: Birds of a feather flock together. Who knew that being the dejected/temperamental sibling of the family would make you an unlikely ‘friend’?
Getting Stitched Up by @moxfirefly , 2POV, fem!reader, Summary: You bandage Raph up after a fight.
First Kiss by @yorshie , 2POV, gn!reader, Summary: Raph is a stubborn man. You can be stubborn too.
No Good, Very Bad Day by @pink-bandana-writes , 2POV, fem!reader, Summary: You've been stressed and he wants to help you feel better.
A Nervous First Kiss by @captainofthedauntless , 2POV, gn!reader, Summary: Raphael really wants to kiss you, but he's nervous about it.
Gym Buddies by @eveandtheturtles , 2POV, gn!reader, Summary: You made the mistake of New Years Resolutions with a friend and got ditched. Raph lets some things slip!
Tender Moments by @cowabungacafe , 2POV, gn!reader, Summary: Raph thinks you're absolutely adorable.
Quiet Connection by @cowabungacafe , 2POV, gn!reader, Summary: "Putting their foreheads together and just being content with each other's presence"
Homecoming Comfort by @cowabungacafe , 2POV, gn!reader, Summary: "Those nights when they come home late and see you asleep on the couch and they come, pick you up and tuck you into bed with a kiss on your forehead"
NSFW
Hey, Beautiful by @avery73 , 2POV, fem!reader, Summary: Waking up in the middle of the night in his embrace really gets you going... He sees no problem with this.
That's Starting to Get Annoying by @moxfirefly , 2POV, fem!reader , Summary: Raph wants to spend time with you, but your phone keeps ringing.
They're Gonna Hear Us by @moxfirefly , 2POV, fem!reader, Summary:"They're gonna hear us." "Then I guess you better be quiet."
Raph Watches You From the Rooftop by @moxfirefly , 2POV, fem!reader, Summary: "I can make you feel better than that pathetic toy"
Ya’ Can Repay Me In The Mornin' by @vintagereigns , 3POV, fem!reader, Summary: Raph helps you get nice and relaxed before bed.
Oh Shit.. by @moxfirefly , 2POV, fem!reader, Summary: "I think the condom just broke.."
Begging by @raphsgrl , 2POV, fem!reader, Summary: A short oneshot of some spicy time with Raph.
To Leave a Mark by @oozedninjas , 2POV, fem!reader, Summary: "Mark me. Mark me so everyone knows who I belong to."“You’re mine”
Angst
Let's Trick or Treat! by @thejudiciousneurotic , 2POV, fem!reader, Angst with some Fluff, Summary: “I love you; I swear I do, but we're not wearing matching costumes”
Yellow Light by @justalotoffanfiction , 2POV, fem!reader, Angst with Fluff, Hurt and Comfort, Summary: Inspired by the song Inventor's Daughter by the Branches. Reader meets Raph for the first time and isn't scared away by him.
Be You by @moxfirefly , 2POV, fem!reader, Hurt and Comfort, Summary: Raph helps you through some doubts you have.
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Fluff
Cuddle Headcanons by @mysticovo , 2POV, fem!reader
He's Too Nervous to Ask You Out by @scaredycatqlt , 2POV, masc!reader, hc format
You Don't Scare Me by @tmntfixationxreader , 2POV, fem!reader, Summary: Raph misunderstands your shyness toward him as fear.
Self Conscious Sleepover by @tmntfixationxreader , 2POV, gn!reader, Summary: Raph doesn't want you to see his retainer during your sleepover together.
NSFW
Gentle by @fishstixloser , 2POV, gn!reader , Summary: You spend some quality time with Raph while he's brumating.
Angst
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Fluff
Miss Me? by @theyhavetakenovermylife , 2POV , fem!reader , Summary: Raphael is in Gotham and you miss him.
NSFW
The Night Before by @theyhavetakenovermylife , 2POV , fem!reader, Summary: The events of the night before Raphael leaves for Gotham.
Angst
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Fluff
Angst
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Fluff
NSFW
How The Movie Night Went by @theyhavetakenovermylife , 2POV , fem!reader, Summary: Things get a little steamy during movie night with Raphie.
Angst
This absolutely is NOT all of them. I'm steadily working through the tag again, so I'll be updating this frequently (as frequently as my life will permit lol).
Again! If you have a fic in mind and you don't see it here, please submit it! I'd love to add it to this list!
Last Updated: 27 March 2024
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shirtshawaiian · 1 year
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Mr Everart is helping me find my gun (Link to video)
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honeyed-cherries · 2 years
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TW MISCARRIAGE/STILLBORN
i just read one of the worst posts i’ve seen on the internet in a long ass time. it was some reddit post about an 18 year old boy who was relieved that his girlfriend had a stillborn (he says it was a miscarriage but at 24 weeks and after it’s a stillborn. his girlfriend was 25 weeks). the post itself isn’t the problem (well it is but the lesser problem), the problem is all the comments who a struggle to offer a crumb of compassion to this poor girl who was forced to deliver a dead baby who she loved. 90% of the comments were accusing her of being stupid to want a child at 18, accusing her of cheater and/or tampering with condoms or just blatantly saying she was never pregnant. HUH?!??!????!!!?? this poor girl is being ripped to shreds by absolute strangers and discussed on the internet by her boyfriend (who btw is making this post because he doesn’t know how to break up with her) while she is grieving a loss that many cannot even imagine. i hate the internet. i am crying real tears for this girl and i pray that she’s able to find some semblance of peace.
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sn0wbat · 2 years
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do you have a masterpost for your glowan stuff?
not yet! i can make one fairly easily though.
Giant infodump - details and lore! crimson and i have intended to rewrite the whole thing in the past, but never really got around to it yet. besides some minor details, it is still fairly accurate.
Tumblr ask tag - asks i've answered about glowans over the years. keep in that most of the earliest info may be wildly out of date.
Towertrapped - the fanventure, which hasn't updated in a Long Time as my mind has mostly focused on another thing the past few years. at this point i'm starting to doubt i'll ever finish it. please forgive me.
~Glowans - deviantart group page! it's just as dead as deviantart itself is, but we still accept submissions :-)
Towertrapped discord - small discord community! mostly a quiet server these days, but definitely feel free to come hang out.
Avinara  - toyhou.se world group! a few years old, and i totally forgot to announce it back when i made it, so it's a little quiet, but.... absolutely feel free to include your glowans, and maybe even wake up the forum that's there. roleplay? talk to others? have fun. sorry it's on toyhouse though, i know it's difficult to get an account there :/
i may update this list with more links later. hope this is good enough for now!
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wettestnjaay · 3 months
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Love your stranger things work!! 🤤😍
PLEASE MAKE A MARVEL OR SPIDERMAN TWT LINKS PLZ 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻
MERRY CHRISTMAS 2 YOU ALL <3 !
MARVEL - PORN LINKS !
VOL. 1 - [ MALE ~ !PART1 ]
NEW TAGLIST | REQUEST | WATTPAD
SEND REQUESTS &MAKE SURE TO DO THE TAGLIST !!
INCLUDES: Thor Odinson, Peter Parker { TOM & ANDREW }, Steve Rogers `Captain America, Tony Stark `Iron Man, Dr. Stephen Strange, Loki Laufeyson, Eddie Brock/Vemon, Bucky Barnes, Bruce Banner/Hulk (MORE IF REQUESTED)
WARNING: these are links that contain porn, sexual activities.. so be aware.
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——
↣ THOR ODINSON
THOR feels like heaven when u ride him .
THOR loves it when you worship him to beyonce <3 !
THOR pounds inside of u in the closet next to the meeting room .
THOR like some wild shii, and ur just here for it .
↣ PETER PARKER
PETER always wanted to eat you out, and you finally let him .
PETER1 & PETER2 both came too help u release some stress .
PETER doesn't like u teasing him at school, so he fucks u at home.. long and hard
PETER failed his mission, and needs you .
↣ STEVE ROGERS
STEVE loves it when you use him as your person dildo .
STEVE loves ur special halloween costume he even fucks u in it .
STEVE is madly in love with your tight little pussy, he wants to cum inside u and fill u all the way up all the time .
STEVE can fuck you all night long, he doesn't care.. he js needs you wants u and has to feel ur insides, he wants your legs shaking and everything inside of u.
↣ TONY STARK
TONY will fuck you anywhere in the avengers hq, he doesn't give a fuck .
TONY will never let u bath in peace, u have to be full of his cock .
TONY special bday present, he's been dying for this .
TONY breeds you full, not letting a single one of his kids fall out of ur prefect pussy hole .
↣ DR. STEPHEN STRANGE
DR. STRANGE find u in the kitchen and place u on to his dick .
DR. STRANGE loves the feeling of their cum spill inside of u .
DR. STRANGE wants u to jerk him off and keep eye contact .
DR. STRANGE can't keep his hands off of u when ur riding him sooo good .
↣ EDDIE BROCK / VEMON
EDDIE is a real softy when your on top of him .
EDDIE randomly pops in at your apartment and fucks u brainless standing up .
EDDIE & VEMON always take care of u, ur their little baby and fuck toy .
EDDIE/VEMON has u bouncing babbling and more on his dick .
↣ LOKI LAUFEYSON
LOKI has been mad all day, & what's better than release all his anger out on u ?
LOKI always wants it raw, as soon as u wait up, as soon as your home.. anywhere.
LOKI thinks he should start punishing you more after this .
LOKI has to fill u up with his cum before leaving on a mission .
↣ BUCKY BARNES
BUCKY has attachment issue.. he has to show u that he loves u and he has to be close by u, he has to b deep inside u .
BUCKY does not play with it comes to creampies and backshots .
BUCKY doesn't think u can handle him, so u show him u can .
BUCKY will never stop breeding u, ur gonna b his little momma someday .
↣ BRUCE BANNER / HULK
BRUCE always lets u take control, because your is prefect girl ^^ .
HULKS dick straight in ur cunt, over and over and over .
BRUCE wants u bouncing on his dick while natasha watches and help .
BRUCE gets a promotion and wants u to make u happy .
| SORRY FOR NOT POSTING, I'VE BEEN REALLY BUSY BUT IM HERE NOW, AND ILL B FEEDIN U PUMPKINS <3.
~ BE PREPARED FOR A LOT OF P LINKS BECAUASE I HAVE A COMPLE OF REQUESTS FOR THEM, AND FEEL FREE TO REQUEST ONE OF ANY FANDOM !!
` ILL START THE TAGLIST SOON IT JS MAKES ME NERVOUS FOR SOME REASON !
IF ANY MISTAKES OR ERRORS PLEASE LET ME KNOW !
©️ trustynjaay
1K notes · View notes
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You Missed My Heart: PART 1
PART 1 LINK      |      PART 2 LINK      |   PART 3 LINK
Description: Miguel had died months ago. At least, my universe’s Miguel had died. Maybe I should have noticed when I could feel him touching me in my dreams, but grief is a hell of a thing. That is, until I woke up in a house that looked just like mine, but somehow different. 
Miguel had taken me from my universe and put me in one where he could relive his past, whether I liked it or not. 
Word Count: 11,107  Author’s Note: I wrote this instead of doing my college work, but I also didn’t proofread. Hopefully there aren’t too many typos! I’ll probably add more chapters in the following days/weeks Content Warning: smut, mild breeding kink, reader is being held against their will, Miguel being manipulative and an ass, bit of angst (I mean his wife and child are dead so yeah)
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          Minors DNI! Story is below the cut
The dream was hazy. Miguel sighed as he began to inch toward the edge of the mattress, drifting out of the shared embrace that we had slept in. Arms and legs untangled from one another as he drifted away from me.
I reached my hand outward, catching onto his hand before he could slip away for good. “I need to go to work.” He whispered, his voice husky and warm from sleep. But, despite his protest, he lay back down beside me. “Don’t go.” I said. My hands worked their way through the darkness, moving to curl around his broad shoulders. I wanted to hold him. I wanted to feel his strong heartbeat against my chest and listen to him breathe one more time. It didn’t matter that this wasn’t real. I didn’t care that this was now a soft and distorted memory; this was all I had left of him. I had convinced myself weeks ago that if I dreamed of him enough, it would almost be like he wasn’t gone. “I have to. Alchemax is unveiling a new project today and I have to be there.” He leaned in, brushing the tip of his nose against mine. His breath was warm, working as a perfect antagonist for the frigid air of our bedroom. “Please Miguel.” I begged. He cut me off by pressing his lips against mine. The kiss was languid and wet. Our bodies were still naked from the previous night’s activities as he rolled on top of me. “Miguel…” I whispered. “Please don’t leave me.” “I’m not going anywhere.” He said. His lips slipped off of mine as he lowered his face, moving so that his mouth could graze the shell of my ear. There, he whispered the one thing I thought I would never hear again. “I love you…”
Something brushed the side of my face, pulling me from my dream. I jerked upward, searching for what had caused it. But I couldn’t see through the pitch black of the bedroom. In the darkness, I was so sure that I could smell him. He had been dead for months, but his scent still lingered in the walls and all of the soft places in the house. It was to the point that I was terrified of moving or washing anything; if I did, that last piece of him would vanish forever.
Hot tears slid down my face.
I had been crying again. But that had become such a common occurrence that I couldn’t even be surprised. Tears slid down my neck, soaking into the collar of Miguel’s Alchemax t-shirt that had been worn thin. Crying had become an every night thing since the funeral. Maybe if I could understand what the hell even happened to him, then I could be okay. But there had been no information about any of it. I had been told there was an accident at work and that there was nothing that could have been done to save him. But the term accident meant so many different things.
I lifted my hand to my cheek to wipe away the next batch of tears. But, as my fingers brushed my skin, I couldn’t help but notice the distinct warmth on that side of my face.
Had someone been here?
Had the gentle brush been entirely in my head?
I swallowed hard as my eyes searched the darkness. “Miguel?” I asked. But there was no answer. The delusional part of me wanted to hear him stir inside of the bathroom that attached to the bedroom. I slid my hand outward, searching through the sheets that would always remain cold.
The black out curtains that covered my window blocked out any light from the city. The only light in the room was from the small machine that Miguel had set up in the corner. I was never sure what exactly it did, but it always gave off a pale blue glow.
I glanced around the room, seeing that the pictures were all still lying face down on the dresser and bookshelves.
Nothing was different. He was still dead, and I was still alone.
I swallowed hard as I reached for the bottle of sleeping pills that sat on the bedside table. I had gotten them after stepping off one of the curbs in Nueva York without looking. But, before anything could happen, a man had grabbed me, jerking me out of the way seconds before my body had the chance to collide with the car that was racing down the street. Maybe if I hadn’t been so exhausted, then I would have thought before I walked.
The pills were my only chance at getting any rest these days. I unscrewed the top of the bottle, dropped one of the white pills into my hand, and then replaced the white plastic lid. I discarded the bottle onto the nightstand and then popped the pill in my mouth.
I just needed to go to sleep. If I could sleep, then I could see him again.
I leaned back against the sheets, watching the walls of the hallway through the open door of our bedroom. If I hadn’t known better, I could have sworn to God that I saw a faint orange and pink glow dance against the walls before being consumed by darkness.
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No dreams came. My vision was dark, trapping me in a dreamless darkness. The pills always made my body heavy with sleep; it was almost impossible to open my eyes when I was like this. I didn’t see him in my dreams, but I could hear him. His voice was faint, speaking in delicate murmurs.
Fingers brushed against the skin of my face as he pushed several of my curls behind my ears. It was something he had always done, especially when I was sitting on the couch beside him. I had always wondered if he did it so that he could see my face or if it was just his way of getting my attention. But I guess that didn’t matter now.
I flinched at the reminder.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you. I’m here.” Miguel whispered. He pressed a gentle kiss against my forehead. I felt the bed move under me, sinking on the edge as he sat down. “I’m gonna keep you safe.”
“You need to drop this.” A soft female voice said. Her voice was no more than a whisper.
“I can’t do that.” Miguel’s voice was firm; he had already made up his mind.
“Miguel, you’re torturing her. Just leave her alone.” The delicate voice pleaded. Behind my eyelids, I saw pink and honey color light flash. “Give her time. Let her mourn then let her move on. Maybe she could be happy. She could get married and have a good life.”
“Lyla, I’m not sure if you know this, but telling me that my wife is going to fuck someone else and that that’s why I should let her go has the exact opposite effect.”
“Let her be happy.” The girl pleaded.
“She should have died. I’m saving her.”
“Miguel, please let her go. Please, I really-” I heard him click something, making the second voice fall silent.
Warm arms slipped under my legs as I was overwhelmed by the smell of Miguel.
My Miguel.
He smelled faintly of cologne, sweat, and something else. He pulled me into his arms, laying my body against his strong chest. I felt him grab a heavy arm and place it on his shoulder. Beneath my fingers, I felt a weird material cover his skin.
What the hell?
I tried to open my eyes, but I couldn’t force myself out of the dream. The medication weighed me down, anchoring me into this strange haze.
Miguel bounced me in his arms a couple of times. I groaned, feeling him stand up. One of the blankets caught on my foot, tugging on my tired body. Miguel gently tossed the blanket onto the bed, offering a few more gentle bounces to my body as he started to walk.
“You’re going to be so happy.” He whispered. Miguel pressed a second kiss against my skin.
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Blinding light came streaming through the window. I winced, lifting my hand to shield my eyes. I lay there for a moment before a thought occurred to me.
When was the last time I had been awakened by sunlight?
Miguel had always worked such random hours that we had hung thick blackout curtains over the window so that we had a chance at getting some sleep.
“What?” I pushed myself up in the bed, feeling my t-shirt drop down to cover the soft skin of my stomach. But the left side was caught on something, keeping that side of my abdomen exposed. I glanced down to see a thick bracelet that had been attached to my wrist. I pulled the shirt off of the bracelet, allowing it to fall and give me some sense of modesty as I glared at the contraption.
What the hell was this thing?
I glanced around, searching for some idea as to what was going on.
The only clue was a bright orange post-it note that had been pressed onto the bedside table. It was sitting between a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin. Plucking the note off of the table, I quickly began to read it.
‘Please don’t be scared. I’ll be back soon. Take this for your head. It will take a bit to get used to all of this.’ It had been signed with a name that immediately made me shutter.
Miguel.
No. No. No.
Did I die?
Or did I finally go insane?
I pushed myself out of the bed, searching for some clue as to what the hell was going on. This was my bedroom. At least, it looked like it was. The closet was the same, the bookshelves were the same, even the weird off-blue shade that Miguel had picked for the walls was the exact same.
It was then that something caught my eye. All of the pictures were sitting upright. I could see our mutual smiles behind the glass. They were photos of us on dates, photos of us at the weird events that Alchemax held, and even some of the more intimate photos we had taken of us in bed with our bodies barely covered by the thin ocean of sheets.
I stepped forward, moving toward the closet. I jerked one of Miguel’s button-ups off of the hanger and inspected it. The spot where he had spilled wine on the cuff was missing. Instead, the material was bleach white.
This was wrong. This was all wrong.
Everything was familiar, but still foreign somehow. There were sheets that were the same color but didn’t have soft faded patches that had been acquired from stains during love making. There were clothes that I remembered wearing, but they didn’t have the small tears or stains in them. Everything was put together from memory, but it wasn’t my memory.
If I didn’t look too closely at it, it could almost be perfect.
Slowly, I stepped forward. As I moved toward the dresser, I stopped. In my home, my real home, there was a creak in the floorboard. Miguel had spent an entire weekend trying to fix it after we had moved in, but it was all in vain.
Maybe I was just paranoid. That was the only solution.
I leaned backward, then forward again in an attempt to get the floor to creak.
A deafening silence filled the room.
I reached down and pulled at the bracelet. It was heavy on my arm. I slipped my fingers under the band, attempting to pry it off of me. But it was no use. It had been secured at the base, making it impossible to remove.
Then, I did the only thing I could think of.
I ran.
I bolted from the bedroom, moving down the hallway. When I reached the stairs, I took them two by two. Frankly, I was amazed that I didn’t slip and break my neck. But fear is a hell of a motivator. I sprinted through the living room, searching for the front door of our house. I threw open the front door and rushed outside, ignoring the fact that I wore only a thin t-shirt and underwear.
I needed to get the hell out of there; I didn’t care about being modest at this point.
It was Nueva York; the buildings were the same, so was the noise. Sounds of construction, traffic, children playing, and music blasting filled the air. But, I couldn’t help but notice the main thing that was missing: no people or vehicles.
“Hello?” I called.
But I was all alone.
“Hello?” I screamed.
Something grabbed my hand, jerking me backwards. I stumbled but was caught before I could collide with the pavement. Strong arms curled around my waist and hauled me upward. I flailed my arms and kicked out my legs in an attempt to get free, but it was no use. The figure turned around and began to carry me back to the house as if I was nothing more than a doll. “You weren’t supposed to leave the house.”
I knew that voice. It was the one that haunted my dreams and filled my every ‘what-if.’
Miguel.
“What the fuck?” I screamed.
“Stop trying to fight me.” His voice was flat. I glanced behind me to look at him. He wasn’t my Miguel. His eyes flickered somewhere between chocolate brown and blood red. The muscles on his shoulders were more defined and the line between his eyebrows was deeper. But maybe that was because of the dark scowl that he wore as he carried me up the small steps of the brownstone.
When he stepped inside of the house, he threw me onto the hardwood floor. As my head hit the floor, he reached behind him and flipped the deadbolt.
That was to make sure that I didn’t try and escape again.
Miguel wasn’t dressed how I was used to. My Miguel always wore some kind of standard, normal clothes. Nicer clothes for work, soft pants, and sweatshirts at home. But this man, the imposter, wore a red and blue costume that stretched over his hard muscles and accentuated his domineering frame.
“You were supposed to wait. I said I would be back soon.”
“Who the hell are you?” I twisted my body so that I was sitting up on the hardwood floor. I pulled my legs close to my body, attempting to hide my thin underwear from him.
“You’re joking right?” He asked. He stood over me, inspecting me with a look of both confusion and disappointment.
“No, I’m not. And what the hell did you put on my arm?” I shook my wrist, trying to loosen the device.
“Stop trying to take it off. If you do, you’ll die. Unless that’s what you’re hoping for.” He said as he studied me. I froze.
“What?”
“It keeps you alive in this universe. You’re not from here; you don’t belong here, so if you take that off, you’ll glitch until you die.”
I glanced around the room, taking in all of the little imperfections. The room was wrong, reminding me that I was in some kind of strange prison.
“What is all of this?” I asked. Miguel stared at me at if the answer was so obvious.
“It’s our home.”
“No… no, it isn’t.” I said. “What did you do to me?” I pushed myself off of the floor. As I did, I pulled at the bottom of the t-shirt. The man stared at me, his eyes dancing between the terrified look on my face at the pale skin of my naked legs. As his eyes drank me in, I could see them turning to a deeper shade of red.
“Who are you?” I asked. He let out a dark chuckle. As he did, I couldn’t help but notice that sharp white fangs that protruded from his mouth.
“Sweetheart…”
“Don’t call me that.” I said. He rolled his eyes.
“Look, I’ve been very sweet to you. But now you’re starting to piss me off.” His voice was sharper this time. He moved toward me and I stepped back.
“Why do you look like him?” I asked. He knew exactly what I meant.
“Because I am him… in a way.”
“I don’t understand.” I said. He once again tried to fill the distance between the two of us. I stepped backward, feeling my back hit the side of the couch. “You died… he died.”
“In your universe, yes. Please call me Miguel. I know this may be new to you, but I am your husband, just a different version of him. I mean you no harm.” The dull ache from being thrown on the floor said differently. “I did all of this because I love you.”
“You don’t know me.” I said. I slid my hands against the side of the couch in an attempt to find something to cling to. He let out a dry laugh.
“That’s where you’re wrong. I know you in every single universe. I’ve known more versions of you than you can imagine. Versions where you live, versions where you die. So, in a way, I know you better than you even know yourself.”
“If you knew me so well, then you would know Miguel and I never married.”
“Purely semantics. Besides, that’s something that I fully intend on correcting.”
“You’re insane.” I said.
“Don’t fucking call me that. You have no idea how hard I worked to fix everything for you; how hard I worked to make sure that everything would be perfect.”
“Miguel, where the fuck am I?” I demanded. “And I don’t want you to keep saying I’m home. This isn’t my home. Where am I?”
“You could be a little bit more grateful. You should have died.” He said. “You weren’t supposed to be pulled out of the way of a car and you were.”
Anger flashed through me. Just looking at him filled me with a mixture of rage and sadness that mixed together in a sludge that did nothing but make me want scream at him. “I’m supposed to be dead? You’re dead! I went to your funeral! There’s a goddamn sign in the Alchemax lobby for you.” My throat burned and my eyes stung with tears. “Was that all some kind of sick lie?”
“No, your Miguel did die.” His voice was matter of fact- almost cold. It was as if he had said this all a million times before. Hell, for all I knew, he had. Maybe this was some kind of sick game he liked to play. “But, that’s no matter. I’m here now. I made a little pocket universe for you; where you can live and where you being here won’t affect anything. You can stay here with me, and things will be exactly as they should be.” I glanced at the locked door behind him. “You being here won’t affect any other universe and it keeps you out of your own, making sure that all of the canon events happen exactly as they should. The canon is safe and you get to live. Two birds, one stone.” He was so proud of himself.
“Do I have a choice in staying with you?”
His face twitched at my question. “I’ve watched you cry for him at night. I’ve heard you scream and beg for him to come back. You wear his clothes and listen to his music and talk to yourself like he’s still there. For God’s sake, I’ve watched you touch yourself to pictures of him. I just assumed you would have had a warmer reception to me.”
“You had no right to spy on me.” I winced, remembering the feeling of my face being touched in my sleep. He had been there, watching me as I mourned. Besides, there was something in the way he emphases a warmer reception. He was hoping I would immediately adore him and drag him into the bedroom to screw until I couldn’t walk straight. He wanted us to immediately slip into some weird little habit where I pretended to be his loving wife. He said I died in other universes. Was I his replacement, just as he hoped to be mine?
Miguel sucked on his teeth before he stepped forward.
Without thinking, I twisted my body around and bolted toward the kitchen. I had no idea where I was even going; I just wanted to be away from him.
I got about five steps away before he reached outward and grabbed me. This time, his hold was harder. His arms crushed themselves against my body as he lifted me upward and began to carry me toward the stairs. This time, he was holding me so tight that I was sure he was going to break my ribs.
“You’re hurting me.” I gasped.
“Then stop trying to leave me.” He said. “You’re not going to get far and you’re just going to end up hurting yourself.”
He carried me up the stairs, his eyes dark red in the dim light. He carried me to the bedroom at the end of the hall. When he reached the room, he looked down at me.
“Say you love me.” It was a second chance. I paused for a moment, trying to find a way to fake sincerity.
He wasn’t my Miguel. He wasn’t my angel who I curled up with on the couch or who insisted on making me listen to old music that nobody but him would ever like. This man didn’t have that gentleness about him; he wasn’t sweet or loving.
“I love you.” I tried. I knew I sounded like I was faking it.
“At least I know you’re a shitty actress.” He muttered. He dropped me on the floor of the bedroom and then stepped outside before I had a chance to make another getaway. He slammed the door shut.
“Miguel, please let me out.”
“Ah, now you want to be nice to me.” He mocked.
“You kidnapped me. I’m sorry if I’m not the person you were hoping for. If you want someone better, just get a different me from some other place. I’m sure the universe is just littered with them.”
“I saved you. Your universe would have collapsed if it weren’t for me. I offered you the chance to live in a different place, where none of that can ever hurt you and you hate me for it. You want to be pissed? Be my guest. But in time, you’ll love me. I know you will. You always do.”
“Yeah, Miguel, it doesn’t feel like you’re giving me a choice in the matter.” I said. “Why can’t you just find another girl? Anyone else?”
“It has to be you. Because it always is, no matter what. Every time, we end up together so I can’t just grab some random person. Besides, there aren’t too many of you who aren’t already with some version of me. Stealing wives from other versions of me just sounds wrong.”
Yeah, that would be the wrong part. Not the whole kidnapping thing. He keeps flipping between lunatic and romantic who is waxing poetic about our deep love. Maybe I would have been charmed if I had actually known this man. Plus, there was something weird about the way he said it. Had he considered it? How did he find widows versus wives?
“Miguel, sweetheart, how about you let me out of here and then we can find some kind of arrangement that we both like?”
He rolled his eyes as he locked the door from the outside. “When you decide to be the version of you that I know and love, then we can talk.”
Bastard.
I kicked the door, but I knew it was useless. He was already walking away from the door. In the distance, I heard his voice as he began to speak to someone else.
“Lyla, I’m a little busy right now.”
“It’s urgent.” She said.
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It was hours before he came back. I didn’t hear him when he was stepping toward the door. I only heard him when he unlocked the door and let out a low sigh.
“I brought you dinner. It’s in the kitchen. I expect you to eat dinner with me tonight.” He said.
“Thank you.” I squeaked out. I hadn’t eaten since the night before. I was starving. Besides, if this was his idea at a peace offering, who was I to reject. He obviously didn’t want to return me to my real home. Maybe I should just get used to this. “I’ll be down in a minute. I want to clean up a little bit.” I said.
“I’ll get everything ready.” He said. With that, I heard him step away from the door of the bedroom. At least he was receptive to me needing a moment, rather than dragging me downstairs to eat right now.
I sighed to myself as I pushed myself off of the bed. I couldn’t just wear a t-shirt and underwear. I already looked like an absolute mess. My face was swollen from crying and my curls had turned into a frizzy mess from being manhandled so many times in the last twenty-four hours.
My best bet was a shower to calm me down and hopefully take away some of the puffy redness around my eyes and nose. I didn’t want him to see that I had sobbed when I was alone; he may have carted me around in my underwear, but I still had my dignity.
There was a small bathroom attached to the room. It was one that I was familiar with. It was exactly like the one at my house; there weren’t any superficial tweaks that he had made. At least, none that I could see upon first inspection.
I quickly showered, scrubbing my body gently as I went. As I slid a loofah along the sides of my body, I winced. Dark bruises were starting to blossom across my ribs from where he had squeezed as he carried me.
Damn it, that hurt!
I winced as I washed my body, careful not to aggravate any new sore spots that I had gotten. I then washed my hair, making sure that it was nice and clean.
Stepping out of the tub, I realized that I hadn’t grabbed a towel. I was sure that he would put them where I always did. After all, that was really the only place for them in the bathroom. I quickly ducked down and pulled open the door to the bathroom cabinet. The towels had been stacked on one side, random trinkets and things he had brought for me rested on the other. I snatched a towel from the pile as I eyed the objects.
They were the usual fair, mixed in with a few oddballs. Tampons, deodorant, razors, women���s shaving cream, a perfume that I wore pretty often, a couple of bottles of hand and body lotion, a toothbrush, toothpaste, an eyelash curler, a new tube of mascara, hair gel, and a dozen or so other hair things. I sighed and quickly added several of the things to the counter. I needed to brush my teeth and do my hair. As I stacked those things on the counter, I couldn’t help but notice that there were more things resting against the very back of the shelf. Against the wall sat two small pink boxes that were still in their clear wrapping from the drugstore. I frowned as I pulled them forward, moving them closer so that I could see them. The first was a new box of pregnancy tests. I shook the box; sure enough, it actually contained what it said it did. Part of me expected the box to be a decoy and to either be empty or filled with something outwardly sinister, like a camera. Why did he buy me pregnancy tests? I flipped the second box over and was greeted by a bulk box of ovulation test strips, meant to check for when I was ovulating. I winced equally at both of the packages. I quickly shoved them back into the cabinet and closed the door.
Part of me wanted to know why those were what he chose to buy me; the other part was scared to know the answer.
I quickly stood up and began to dry off. It was a short time between when I finished showering and when I stepped out into the bedroom, my hair styled with my curls down, my teeth brushed, and my skin dried of any excess water.
Stepping to the closet, I noticed that all of the dresses in the closet were too formal. Most of the clothes that I typically wore were missing. No t-shirts, jeans, or even standard pajamas. Damn it, Miguel. I quickly walked over to the dresser and opened the bottom drawer.
Based on what was there, my best bet was the baby pink nightie that lay on the top of the pile of clothes. It was obviously new; a tag was still attached to the spaghetti strap and frankly, I had never seen it before, so I figured that it was something he had picked out himself.
I pulled the dress on, wincing when it stopped several inches above my knees. I pulled on a pair of underwear and then snagged a grey cardigan from the closet in an attempt to have a chance at being warm.
What I was wearing was closer to lingerie than actual clothing, but that didn’t seem to matter at this point. He had dragged me around twice in my underwear, on top of the fact that he said he had watched me touch myself to him. My face burned at that thought.
Besides, if he was right and we were always together, then none of this would be new to him. But maybe it would make him be nicer to me if he thought I was being nicer to him.
I stepped through the hallway, careful not to lose my footing in the dim light. As I went, I couldn’t help but notice one of the more glaring differences between my universe and this was. The door to the room that rested next to the bedroom wasn’t stained with its dark russet shade. He had painted this door yellow. That was clearly a recent change; the air still smelled heavily of paint. But why the hell had he painted it in the first place? Maybe he was used to it being a different color and was perfecting it to fit his little fantasy.
I made my way downstairs. He was sitting in the small breakfast nook that rested in the kitchen. He had set out the white plates and arranged the food so that I had easy access to everything. As I rounded the corner, he glanced upward. Something stirred in his dark eyes, but he didn’t say anything. Miguel was sitting at the table, pushing around an eggroll with a plastic fork. He had changed out of his standard red and blue spider suit into an old sweatshirt and flannel pajama pants.
Lucky bastard.
He looked tired. He had a dark stain of blood on his left cheek and I was sure that it wasn’t his. I didn’t want to think about whether or not the owner of that blood was still alive, because I knew there was a good chance they weren’t. I watched him for a moment before I stepped away from the table. He frowned, watching me closely. I was sure he was watching to verify that I didn’t make another run for it. I quickly pulled a washcloth out of one of the lower cabinets by the sink and then turned on the faucet. Once the water ran warm, I wet the rag, wrung it out so that it wasn’t dripping, and then I turned off the water.
I stepped back into the small dining area. “Miguel.” I said in an attempt to get his attention. His tired eyes drifted up to meet mine. The eyes that were once a burning red were now a warm brown. They were almost the shade of coffee. He watched me with such an intensity that it made my face turn a dark maroon. I was sure that he noticed, but he didn’t remark on it.
I leaned down slightly, moving so that my standing height could line up with his sitting size. God, he was so damn tall. “Miguel, here. You have blood on your face.” He reached up to take the cloth but was surprised when I gently pressed the warm material to his face. “Just hold still for a second.” I whispered. For a moment, I couldn’t help but wonder if he had changed out of his suit for comfort or if it was just as coated in blood as his face was. The idea made me shudder internally.
I gently wiped away the dried blood, folding the cloth as I went so that I didn’t rub old blood against his face. When I reached the hollow of his cheek, I slipped one hand under his strong jaw and had him tilt his face to the side in an attempt to give me a better angle. He closed his eyes, giving in to the gentle touch.
He was touch starved. I could tell by the way his breathing slowed and the hairs on his arm stood on end. He wasn’t used to being touched; not anymore. Not in any way that offered any kind of tenderness.
“There you go. All clean.” I said. He opened his eyes and he nodded. His eyes then dipped downward toward my dress.
“Nice outfit.”
“It would appear that most of my actual clothing is gone. So, I have plenty of clothing for the bustling city life outside and I have plenty of lingerie, but everything else is a bit sparse.”
A smile pulled at his lips with my comment. Then, he nodded. “I’ll bring you your clothes from your home universe.”
“Thank you.” I said. Miguel leaned forward and grabbed a container of orange chicken.
He had ordered us Chinese food. It was something that I couldn’t help but note was the same as we had had on our first date. I glanced at the label and confirmed that it was the same restaurant and everything. We had eaten there the night we had first met. We had dipped out of a party at Alchemax early. I hadn’t wanted to be there, but my father had worked there for so many years that it almost felt like an obligation. When I had turned to leave too fast, I knocked wine all over Miguel, but he hadn’t seemed to mind.
“Are you okay?” This Miguel asked. I quickly nodded as I was pulled from the distant memory.
“I am. Thank you for dinner.” I pushed a small amount of food onto my plate and then returned the container to the center of the table.
“You need to eat; really eat.” He said. His brown eyes danced over my face as he searched for something in my gaze. He was hoping to find some kind of love there; a familiarity or affection that I could offer him.
“I feel sick.”
“That’s just because you aren’t used to being in a different universe. Consider it like jet lag. You’ll get used to it in a few days.” He noticed when I didn’t move to eat. I stared into space, feeling my previous convictions about being sweet to him begin to slip away. “I could always make you eat.” He said.
“You wouldn’t do that.” I muttered. He let out a low sigh and then returned to his food. He wasn’t going to argue with me. Or maybe I was right; maybe there were some things he wouldn’t be willing to do to me. But he had walked in sporting horror-movie levels of blood on his skin. So, who knows?
“Is there anything that’s bothering you?” He asked. “You can always ask me.”
“Are you going to lock me up in my room again if you don’t like the question?” I asked. He didn’t respond.
Tread lightly, I guess.
“Why do you look different than my Miguel?”
“I’m Spiderman. Your Miguel wasn’t. He was close, but he didn’t quite get there before…” His voice faded off. He was trying to be sensitive to me, in his own fucked up way. Or maybe his own narcissism wouldn’t allow him to talk about his failures, even in a different universe.
“Do all Spidermen look like you?” I asked.
“Are they all so devastatingly handsome? Afraid not, sweetheart. They don’t usually look the same. Hell, they can look like anything. I found one that’s literally a cartoon pig. But appearances aside, they can mostly do the same things: climb walls, shoot webs, the whole lot.”
“Ah.” I said. “Do they all have the…” I tapped my finger to my teeth, motioning for the fangs that protruded anytime he spoke. He shrugged.
“That seems to be a thing entirely unique to me.”
Did I sense a bit of insecurity there?
He furrowed his brow as he turned his attention to the dinner plate. Damn it, now I felt bad.
Why the hell did I feel bad for hurting his feelings? He kidnapped me and had dragged me around like a rag doll. But I couldn’t ignore the guilt that started to brew inside of me.
I sighed as I moved closer to him. Even if he was my captor, I couldn’t help but see him as the man who I still loved. Even if that ended at the physical resemblance. I slid to the edge of my chair and reached my arm out for his face. My fingers slid against the rough stubble of his jaw, tracing the side of his face for a moment. He leaned his head to the side, moving into my touch.
“I’m sorry.” I whispered. He nodded, lifting a hand upward. He laid his fingers on top of mine, holding my hand there against his skin. God, he was burning up. Did he always feel like this? Maybe he was actually sick. My Miguel never ran this warm. Or maybe it was just a side-effect of the spider bite. I didn’t understand any of that well enough to question it and I sure as hell wasn’t going to ask about it.
Suddenly, something clattered to the ground in the kitchen, making me jump. I pulled my hand back from his face, feeling the reality of the situation settle in. I slid my hand back into my lap, watching as his eyes lingered on for entirely too long. His brown eyes swam with a deep want. He wanted me to keep touching him.
Maybe sleeping with him would knock him out of this lovesick spell. Or maybe it would only make it worse. He stared at me, moony eyed and desperate. He was Miguel, even if he wasn’t my version of him. Maybe he could genuinely love me, even if only in his own fucked up way.
“If you loved him so deeply, do you think you could ever love me the same way?” He asked.
“Miguel…” I said. His face twitched slightly. I couldn’t say no; maybe I could, eventually. Or maybe he would become crueler, and I would hate him every second of my life. I didn’t know what to tell him. He leaned back in his chair, his face twisting in an attempt to conceal a deep pain.
Change the conversation quick. Change it before the night could descend in chaos with either us screaming at one another or him locking me in the room again. Or maybe he would just send me back to my own universe to die. After all, if he couldn’t get what he wanted from me, then there was no use in keeping me here.
He made a low noise and then returned to eating, never saying anything about how I had dismissed him.
“Why did you paint the door in the hallway?” I asked. He paused, trying to think up an answer. Then, he swallowed his dinner and shook his head.
“Just decided that it looked better that way.”
“But why? What was wrong with the original color?”
“Does it really bother you that much that I changed one thing?” He asked. His voice had an edge to it now. I clearly was not supposed to ask about the door. But why? It was just a damn door.
“No, but it’s weird that that is the one thing you decided to change. I figured that there was probably a reason.” He rolled his eyes as he took another big bite of food.
“Can’t you just be happy? Most people would overjoyed if they had the opportunity that you do.”
“Yes, I’m quite sure that most people would just love to be stolen from their bed by their boyfriend’s psycho twin. Frankly, that’s every woman’s dream.” My voice was dripping with so much sarcasm that he rolled his eyes. “How long are you planning on keeping this up? This isn’t the Truman Show. You can’t just keep me locked up here for the rest of my life so that you can get your kicks spying on me. And I’m not going to act out some fifties sitcom for you.”
“You don’t have to. I just want you to be… you. Or, as close to it as possible.” He said. As close to me as possible… the words rattled around in my head for a moment.
“You want me to be her.” His face twitched. “I lost him and you lost someone who looks exactly like me.”
Dear God, that was exactly it. All of my suspicions were correct. I was supposed to play house with him, while pretending to be a very specific version of myself that he had once loved. I had to be the perfect version of his wife; the one who doted on and loved him, or else this was all for nothing.
“Have you ever read The Great Gatsby?” I asked. He stared at me, his gaze littered with something.
“Tread lightly, sweetheart.”
“The book is about a man who tries to relive his past. He is so sure that repeating everything and making little adjustments will fix his world.” I swallowed hard, trying to make sure he understood what I was saying. I wasn’t his toy; I wasn’t meant to be wound up to perform for him. “Miguel, you can’t fix things by redoing them. People die. You have to let them go. If your wife died, you need to let her go.”
“I don’t hear you saying that about him.” He sneered.
“That’s because I didn’t kidnap you. I was willing to let you… to let him go.” All of the terms were confusing. This man looked like my Miguel, but he wasn’t. He was a different version of him, which I guess could also make him him, just a different kind. God, I was confusing myself.
“That’s bullshit. I know you want him back. I can see it in your eyes. I can see it in the way you look at me.”
“I think what you’re seeing is a mixture of fear and your own reflection.”
“You love me.” He said.
“I don’t know you, Miguel. I don’t know who you are. I know who you look like, but that doesn’t really help your situation.” I paused for a long moment. “How did she die?” I asked. He shook his head.
“That’s none of your fucking business.” He snapped. I flinched at his words.
“I have the right to know how she died.”
“No, you don’t. You don’t even know how your own husband died and you think you have the right to pry into my life.” With that, he pushed himself up from the table.
He tossed the plate into the sink and it shattered against the metal of the basin. I heard him swear in Spanish under his breath. He was pissed but he hadn’t meant to do that. Maybe that was just an every day occurrence with spider strength.
He began to head to the archway that separated the kitchen from the rest of the house. As he stepped, I heard him swearing under his breath. I also heard my name several times.
“Miguel, where are you going?” I asked.
“You hate me so much, maybe it would be better if I wasn’t around.”
“Miguel, where are you going?” I repeated. He muttered more words under his breath. I watched as he pushed several buttons on the sides of his wrist device. He flipped a top piece on the metal bracelet.
“Lyla-“ he started.
“What are you doing?” I asked. I pushed myself up from the table, following him as he left the kitchen. He didn’t reply. I rounded the corner, following as he stepped into the living room. Upon entering, I was nearly blinded by a massive orange and pink hole that swirled and twisted in the center of the room. With every step he took, he drifted closer to it.
So, that was how he managed to leave and then come back. If what he wore on his wrist was capable of doing it, I wondered if mine was, too. No, surely not. The intent was to keep me here; giving me an opportunity to escape would defeat the entire purpose. He said that if I took it off, I would die. I had no choice but to believe him on that front.
“Miguel.” Still no answer. “Where are you going?” He stepped toward the portal without a sound.
“Miguel, where the hell are you going?” I repeated.
He rolled his eyes as he glanced down at the device on his wrist.
“If you leave, what the hell am I supposed to do? There aren’t any people outside. I’m going to have to guess that all of the buildings are empty. Are you coming back? Am I going to starve to death? What if I get hurt? What if I fall down the stairs and die? When the hell are you coming back? How am I supposed to contact you?” The words fell out of my mouth so fast that I didn’t have the chance to consider if these were stupid questions.
“That’s what you’re worried about?” He scoffed. But he didn’t offer me any kind of actual answer.  
“Miguel, you said you were my husband. You can’t just abandon me.” He flinched, but he still did not turn around. “Please…” I begged. If he left, I was stranded. At least with him here, I was guaranteed human contact and sustenance.
“Miguel, I need you.” I said. As the words left my mouth, I did the only thing I could think of to get his attention. I slid my hand up to the cardigan and quickly slipped it off of my shoulders. He didn’t seem to notice or care when it dropped to the ground below me. I then reached upward and grabbed onto the thin spaghetti straps of the pink nightgown. Without hesitation, I pulled them over either shoulder, allowing the gown to slide entirely off my body and pool onto the floor at my feet.
“Miguel.” I repeated. This time, my voice was no louder than a whisper. That was enough to get his attention. Or maybe he had heard the dress gather on the floor at my feet. I swallowed hard, feeling the cold bite at my bare skin. I was standing almost naked in the middle of the living room, wearing only a thin pair of underwear that offered very little coverage.
Miguel glanced backward. His eyes caught expanse of my bare skin and I swore I saw him smile.
“Don’t leave.” I said. I lifted my hands and crossed my arms. It was a force of habit. I felt so exposed like this. Though, I quickly lowered my hands, knowing that getting his attention was my best chance at him staying.
He turned around to face me. “Please say something, Miguel.” I whispered. The longer I went without a reaction, the more I started to feel like an idiot for this. Maybe I had just made myself look stupid in front of him. Or, better yet, maybe this was something his wife wouldn’t have done; maybe this would make him send me back home to die.
He slunk forward, a predator approaching prey. I saw the portal swirl into a smaller and smaller hole in the universe. Then, it closed, leaving us alone in the dim light of the living room.
Miguel moved so that he was only a few inches in front of me. The material of his shirt grazed my naked skin, making me wince. The shirt was too rough against my goosebump littered flesh. He stared down at me. As he did, his eyes turned from warm brown to a deep red again.
His palm drifted up to cup my cheek. His skin burned to the touch. I swallowed hard, feeling his fingers stroke the side of my face. It was almost as if he was petting me; like I was a toy for him to play with. He leaned down. His lips grazed the shell of my ear as he whispered, “Let me know if I hurt you.”
“Huh?” He pressed his mouth against mine, hard. His lips were warm as he began to work them, moving them so that they forced my mouth open. I moaned, overwhelmed by it all. As his lips slid against mine, I was sure that I would be bruised tomorrow.
A fang brushed my bottom lip, making me gasp. “Gentle, Miguel.” I whispered.
“Sorry.” His warm breath covered my face. He smelled intoxicating. He straightened his stance, moving away from me. When he pulled away, I let out an audible whimper.
God, please tell me I didn’t genuinely want him. I swallowed hard, feeling myself getting slick between my thighs. I was sure that if he looked, he would see a spot forming in my underwear.
I wanted to hold him. I tried to grab his shoulders, but our heights were too off. He was too tall for me to grab hold of. I pushed myself onto my tippy toes, but even that wasn’t enough. I was still too short for him. Miguel noticed this and leaned downward, allowing me to curl my arms around his strong shoulders.
“That’s my girl.” He slipped his hands down and curled his fingers around my bare thighs. He jerked my body upward. I curled my legs around his hips. He was already getting hard, causing his pajama bottoms to strain.
Miguel stepped forward, carrying me up the stairs. I knew where we were going: the bedroom. I pressed a gentle kiss against his cheek. Even in the dark, I could tell he smiled.
He was getting exactly what he had wanted. But I couldn’t bring myself to make it all stop. I wanted him. I had craved him for so long and here he was. He wasn’t my Miguel, but maybe he wouldn’t die. He was stronger than my Miguel. Maybe that would allow him to stick around.
He twisted the door handle, leaving deep dents in the shape of his fingers in the cold metal. He was trying his hardest to be gentle with me, but I knew it was a battle he would most likely lose.
He tossed me on the bed, throwing me just a tad too hard. I landed on the opposite side of the mattress, groaning as my head almost collided with the wooden headboard. “Miguel.”
“I know, I know.” He teased. He flipped his hand over, shooting a fine web that caught my ankle. “Come here, sweetheart.” He rolled the webbing around his fingers, pulling it tight. I gasped, feeling my body sliding across the sheets. He dragged me down to the edge of the bed.
“Miguel!” I squealed. He smirked as he pressed his knees into the bed, pulling me so that I was only a few inches away from him. He pulled the web off my skin, making sure that it didn’t hurt me.
“Do you do that a lot?” I asked.
“As often as you, sweetheart. Next time, I can web you to the headboard.” My face flashed bright red. He chuckled.
Miguel reached down and grabbed the bottom of his sweatshirt. He hauled it upward, pulling it over his head before discarding it on the floor. Taut muscles danced under his skin. Every inch of him was bound in hard muscle, covered in perfect skin.
He leaned forward and pressed a kiss against my knee. His fingers wandered up my thighs, feeling my bare skin. He pushed his other hand into the mattress.
“Miguel, please.”
“Please what?” He asked. I took his free hand in mine and guided it up to my chest. He moaned, offering a soft squeeze.
Miquel scrambled up to my chest. He caught my nipple in his mouth and moaned, licking the sensitive skin as he sucked. His fingers kneaded my other breast, stopping every once in a while to offer the hard peak a gentle pinch.
I brushed my fingers through his dark hair. He smiled against my skin, releasing my nipple from his mouth. “What?” I asked.
“Let me know if I’m too rough with you.” With that he slinked down to the warm skin of my thighs. He traced his lips across the bare skin. As he went, he opened his lips to gently suck and kiss the bare flesh. Every so often I would feel a burst of pain that lasted no longer than a second. He mumbled something against my skin. I pushed myself up onto my elbows, moving so that I could see what he was doing.
Another sharp pain shot through my left thigh as he buried his face in my skin. Miguel glanced upward, feeling my eyes on him. His fangs had nipped my bare skin, making me yelp. “I’ll be more gentle.” His voice was warm and weighted with lust.
He slipped upward and slid his fingers under the waist of my panties. He bit the material with his teeth. I heard him snip the material and rolled my eyes.
“You can’t do that to all of my clothes. I barely have any to begin with.”
“I’ll buy you whatever you want.” He pressed a warm kiss against my bare hip. Then, he moved to the other side. He repeated the same action, slicing through the material using his fangs. He placed a kiss on that side, as well.
“You’re such a showoff.”
“Am not.”
“You could have just pulled them off of me the normal way.” I fought back a laugh.
“I can bench press a city bus. I don’t need to showoff to you. Besides, learn to have some sense of romance.” He threw the remains of the panties onto the floor. He immediately pressed a soft kiss against the mound that had been covered by my underwear.  
He was extremely careful when he shifted downward. But the dull ache on the skin of my thighs where he had bit made me want to make my only request. “Hey, no teeth.”
“Funny, that’s what I always tell you.” He muttered. I rolled my eyes. “Lay back and hush up.”
“You’re so damn bossy.” I shifted on the mattress, spreading my legs wider for him. He placed his hand across my folds and gently spread them to expose my clit. He flicked his tongue across my clit. “Fuck, Miguel.” I lifted my hips off the bed, moving closer to his face.
He started to work, flicking his tongue over my clit as the index finger on his free hand traced my opened. He collected my wetness on his finger, sliding it around to make sure that I was good to go. Then, he slipped in his middle and index finger, sinking in until his knuckles touched my pussy.
I moaned, feeling his tongue work its magic.
Fuck, he was good at this.
He curled his fingers inside of me, brushing my sweet spot. I grabbed the back of his head, feeling his head bob under my palm as he licked.
Then, something occurred to me. He knew every inch of my body because he had fucked me thousands of times in the past. Even if it wasn’t me, it was a girl who was exactly like me. Maybe I was just that predicable. Or maybe he was just that good.
He picked up his speed, lapping between my folds as I curled my fingers in his hair. I was close and he could feel it. He could feel the twitches and miniatures spasms on his tongue as he worked. “Miguel, I’m close!” I whimpered.
He licked faster. Suddenly, pleasure shot through me, filling me with a white-hot heat. I moaned, spasming around his fingers as I came undone.
Miguel whispered something into my thigh as he pushed himself off the bed. Then, he pulled down his pajama bottoms, allowing for his cock to spring upward. It smacked against his lower stomach, heavy and decorated with a dark vein that ran along the underside. He kicked his pants off into the floor and then crawled on top of me.
He pressed a soft kiss on my lips. I could taste myself on his lips.
“This may hurt at first. I won’t move until you’re ready.” He said. He reached down between us. I watched as he grabbed his dick, stroked himself twice, and then lined himself up with my entrance. Without another word, he slid inside, making me gasp. I curled my legs around his hips, pulling him in deep as possible. “That’s my girl.”
I was overwhelmed with a stretching sensation. Arms rested on either side of my head as he stayed in place, waiting for me. After a moment, I leaned forward and kissed him, giving him the go ahead. One hand drifted up to my face. He caressed my cheek and his lips glided against mine.
He drew his hips back, sliding nearly all the way out. Then, thrusted upward, hitting deep inside of me. I gasped into his mouth. “I forgot how tight you are.” He murmured, his words slurring together.
My hands slid down his muscled back as he started to fuck himself into me. All the while, he kept his mouth on mine. I could feel his heart beating against my chest as he worked.
“Miguel…” I moaned, rocking my hips against him. I could feel my lower stomach tightening.
Suddenly, he whispered my name. It was so gentle that it was almost unsettling, considering the circumstances. I glanced up to meet his gaze. But as my eyes met his, he dipped downward. He buried his face in the curve of my neck so that I couldn’t see his eyes.
“Miguel, what’s wrong?”
He rutted his hips upward, burying himself as deep as possible. I gasped, digging my nails into his back. Despite how hard I had sunk them in, they didn’t break the skin. He was indestructible… at least, physically. I slid one hand across the skin of his back, moving to his dark hair. I could have sworn I heard him murmuring something into my neck. I could feel his lips moving against my skin, offering some kind of low prayer. But to who?
“Miguel…” He pulled his hips back again and then quickly slid inside of me again, grinding his hips against me to get a reaction. I gasped, tightening my hold on his hair.
“Say you love me.” His voice was dreamy, and his words slurred from pleasure.
“What?” I asked. It caught me off guard.
“Say it.”
“I love you.” I felt his hips still their movements. He was weighing the authenticity of my words. After a moment, he lifted his head from my neck.
“Say it again.” His eyes peered into mine. He was searching for something in my stare.
“I love you.”
“Good girl.” With that, he continued to beat into me, groaning when I would tense around him.
We were both close. I could tell by the chorus of whimpers and moans that were filling the room. That familiar tightening in my stomach was close to coming entirely undone.
He pivoted his hips, hitting the perfect spot inside of me. Miguel stared down at my features. He wanted something very specific from me before he finished. He ground his hips, making me gasp.
Fucking hell, Miguel.
With that, I felt myself come undone. Pleasure shot through me, making me clamp down on his dick. He grunted, never stopping his movements. “Miguel, I love you!” He groaned at my words. He kept hitting deep inside of me, making sure to grind himself against me every couple of thrusts.
His orgasm overtook him. He groaned my name as he gave one final thrust, hitting deep. I felt his body tense under my hands.
Slowly, we both came down from our highs. We were dragged back to the reality of the bedroom. The day had faded into night, leaving us in darkness.
He had finished inside of me. I could feel a deep warmth inside of my stomach. I also felt a distinct wetness that was hard to ignore. I sighed, relaxing into the mattress. I unhooked my legs, waiting for him to slide out of me. But, instead, he reached behind him and closed my legs again.
“No…” He murmured. Then, he leaned down and pressed a kiss against my lips. In this position, I could feel his heartbeat against my chest. It was so intimate; so loving. Maybe he really did see me as his wife. He pressed another gentle kiss against my mouth. I closed my eyes, giving into the softness of the moment.
“You have to do something for me.” He said. I opened my eyes to look at him.
“Okay.”
“I want you to love me like you loved him. I want you to look at me like I’m your hero and that I’m special.” He inhaled sharply before he reached forward to brush one of my curls off of my forehead. “I want you to care if I die.”
I nodded. What other option was there? I was trapped in his little universe; it’s not like I could ever leave or be with anyone else. Besides, we were still literally connected at the hip.
After what felt like an eternity, he slid out of me. He leaned back on the balls of his feet to inspect me. I immediately closed my legs, though that did little good. He reached forward and grabbed my knees, prying my thighs apart. Warm cum dribbled out of me, coating the naked skin of my upper thighs.
He smirked at his handy work before pushing himself off of the bed. He disappeared into the bathroom for a moment, turning on the faucet and grabbing a towel from the cabinet.
It was then that something occurred to me. “Miguel, I’m not on birth control.” I said. He nodded, acting as if I had just told him about the weather. He stepped out of the bathroom holding a damp washcloth. “Miguel.”
“What, sweetheart?” I stared at him, feeling my mind begin to race. He climbed onto the bed, moving to where I was laying. He sat down between my thighs and gently began to clean the remains of him off of my skin.
“You didn’t… you didn’t use a condom and I’m not on birth control.” I said. I could feel my heart beginning to race. Why wasn’t this bothering him in the same way?
“You’re my wife.” He said as he wiped my skin.
“Miguel.” I repeated. I wanted him to react.
“What are you wanting me to say?”
“Anything.” I said. I wanted some kind of actual reaction.
“Things are exactly as they need to be. Whatever happens, happens.”
“That’s not an answer.” I said.
“Maybe you need to learn to be happy with what you’re already working with.” He finished cleaning me up and then walked to the bathroom. He had made sure to only clean the skin outside of my body. He didn’t try to remove any of the fluid inside of me, despite how much there was.
He came back to the bed and quickly climbed in. “You should get some sleep.” He said. I stared at him, searching for some idea about what he was thinking. He offered a soft smile in return.
Was he fucking with me?
Did he really love me or was he just using me as a quick screw?
Did he actually want me to be his wife… or was this some fucked up mind game of his?
He leaned back against the pillows and then lifted his hand. He curled a finger toward him, motioning for me to come. “I’m not a dog.” I muttered.
“Then be a good girl and do as I ask.” He reached forward and gently grabbed my body. He slid me closer to him, moving me so that my head lay against his bare chest.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“Afraid so.” He said. He placed one hand on my shoulder and the other on my side. He slid his fingers up and down either side of my body, taking in every soft dip and curve. Every so often he would lean down and kiss the top of my head.
I couldn’t help but notice the way that his fingers traced over my lower stomach. He looked wistful as he traced the soft skin. I squirmed, feeling insecure.
“Stop wiggling and get some sleep.”
“Then stop feeling me up.”
“I’m not feeling you up. I’m trying to be nice to you.” He murmured against the top of my head. He pressed another kiss against my hair.
“You’re an ass.” I muttered. I rolled his eyes as he continued to pet my bare skin. His heartbeat played in my ear.
As I began to drift off to sleep, I felt him begin to play with my frizzed curls. He would coil a stand of hair around his finger and then let it go, satisfied with the soft curl that had formed.
It was something that my Miguel liked to do, as well.
Maybe they weren’t all that different.
I heard his strong heartbeat against my ear as I faded away from the room.
Before I fell asleep, Miguel pressed a gentle kiss against my forehead. “Please don’t leave me.” He whispered.
I love you...
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thatonebabybat · 4 months
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Being Masc & Goth
This blog usually isn't fashion-focused, but I was thinking about alt fashion and how it's sometimes a struggle to figure out how to style things in a masc way if you're interested in darkalt fashion, but you don't want to go too casual or basic with it. So I thought I'd throw together some tips, link some DIYs, and maybe throw in a few moodboards. I want to preface this with one thing: You do NOT have to adhere to traditional gender roles. Fuck anyone who tells you that you do. If you're a guy and you want to get into alt fashion don't let anyone tell you that you can't pull off a skirt or a dress or a strappy top. Literally the whole point of being alt is Doing Whatever The Hell You Want Forever. However, not everyone feels comfortable in that (I made this post because I'm transmasc and sometimes the long gothic dresses make me dysphoric), and not everyone is safe to do that ( as much as it sucks ass, if you live in a conservative area sometimes it can be genuinely dangerous for guys to wear makeup and dresses in public, and your safety should always come first), so I thought I'd lay out some tips on how to dress alt and masc from my own experience. I'm still learning so feel free to leave your own advice in the replies or reblogs! General Styling Tips: - Jackets. Jackets, jackets, jackets. Something about a big jacket always seems to give an outfit a more masc energy, and adding a cool jacket to an outfit can be a great way to elevate it and add some extra visual interest. I like black blazers, leather jackets, and black denim jackets in particular, but vests (formal menswear ones or more casual denim or leather ones) can work well too, especially in hot weather. - Any basic black pair of jeans will look 100x more alt if you loosely attach some chains to the pockets or belt loops. Also, pants with wider legs tend to look more masc than tighter fits. not sure why. Slacks can also be a really good and underrated option. - If you want to find good headwear, cool sunglasses have never failed me. You may be able to take some inspiration from Ouji fashion as well, but that's just my personal taste. - If you have a basic piece around, you can add pins, patches, safety pins, etc for a more casual look, or if you're going for something more formal, trims and lace details and embroidery can really add interest and elegance to it. (if you can't sew, you can order iron-on embroidered patches online or find them in craft stores that'll do the trick just fine.) This can take your pair of slacks or plain black blazer and turn it into a piece of formal gothic menswear you can make a staple of your wardrobe. - Find inspiration in your favorite goth artists. There's a lot of really cool goth music out there and a lot of those bands get really innovative with their looks! Figure out what you like about their style and try incorporating a few things in, it's fun! - If you have an alt wardrobe already but it just seems like something's missing or it could use some interest, try switching up the silhouettes or adding an extra layer! Seriously, don't be scared of playing with textures and sleeve shapes! I see a lot of dudes who just wear a band tee and a pair of jeans all the time, and there's absolutely nothing wrong with that, that can be a great look! But I think a lot of dudes just genuinely think that that's their only option and that everything else just "wasn't made for them" and that makes me a little sad. shred up some shirts and layer them, wear some bell sleeves, throw some extra safety pins or studs on, have fun! No one said masc fashion couldn't be fun. Unisex/Masc DIY Videos I Found:
youtube
youtube
youtube
youtube
youtube
youtube
... And Some Inspiration!
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[These are all goth music artists, I wrote the band/artist names in small text on the images that were not already watermarked for those who are curious]
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luvit · 4 months
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(gn!reader, mdni 18+)
pt. 1 of the situationship!ghost has y'all in a chokehold. but i think it's time to finally wrangle yourself out of there. 'cept he doesn't take too kindly to that. sucks 🤷‍♀️
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situationship!ghost who has blatantly told you many times before that you meant nothing to him besides a good fuck. how he'd text all his friends immediately, all his other links in front of you, and take calls so he could leave the room right after cumming in you so when he gets back you can be gone and he doesn't have to deal with you.
he treats you so badly and the only time he actually speaks to you is to ask if you want to come over to his, says his bed is feeling cold and lonely. even though he practically kicks you out and you have to beg him to cuddle for what he lets to be an hour. only says nice things to you when he's balls deep inside of you, going on and on about how you're the only one who can make him cum like that. when you squeeze him so tightly it's like you're made for him, you're made to just take it.
but every time you try to ask him to be something more he just shuts you down and tells you it's never gonna happen, why would you even think that? that if you're so attached to him he should just go on to his next favorite fuck. will lowkey insult you to another one of his hookups, texting that they ride him better than you do. or a different one knows how to use their hands. or how another one sounds better when he can make them cum so nicely. it's insulting. you're pretty sure he's doesn't mean all of that. why else would he keep you around. maybe he's just trying to mess with you... right?
all of your friends that you tell and ask for advice basically rip you one apart. telling you to get your head out of your ass because you keep hurting yourself trying to wait for a guy who won't give you the time unless he needs something to stick his cock into. they confiscate your phone every time you have the urge to call him up late at night, or when you're high or drunk and craving him again, they try to set you up with so many other people who are better. or at least give you a placeholder in the meantime.
all you could think about was what he was thinking when you stopped texting him, but your friends all had to show you your own receipts on that you carried 90% of the conversation, even the ones where you asked to link up. he would just initiate by asking for pics or during what you used to call a "very good week" was when he asked for you to come over twice or even three times. but then your friend's plans started working when they said if you wanted to meet someone then they could introduce you to somebody.
and it works, because for the first time you're not worrying about texting him. in fact, it hurts but makes you feel a little better when he doesn't contact you for a couple weeks. and you're meeting new people and going out on dates that you've never gone on with ghost. you get to chat with people can get flirted with! it's so different and you're being treated so well, courted so nicely. and when the long awaited "what u up to?" text dings on your phone?
it's like you finally flushed out the rest of your feelings towards ghost when you send a "busy" text back. you don't even reply to the measly one letter acknowledgement he sends you as you get ready for another date with someone you've been liking a lot lately. they make you feel everything that ghost doesn't. and all the good things ghost made you feel, your date does better.
you think that's the end of it because another couple of weeks go by and you're practically starting a new relationship. and when you're cuddling with your new date, ghost sends a text asking for you to come over. and you scoff and tell him you're not interested. you date takes your phone and snaps a picture for you to send as well, hoping ghost will get the message. kind of irks you when he asks if they can fuck you better than him. to which he gets his answer later when there's a picture of a sight ghost has seen a million times. the sight of you cumming. but the difference this time is that you're smiling.
ghost just stares at his phone for a second and thinks "hm, good for you." but doesn't realize how much it affects him until later on. from what used to be calling you up sometimes first, sometimes if his second or third option didn't reply and you were the next choice, he finds himself thinking more and more about you. and the lack of you.
suddenly starts thinking and trying to track when you switched up. when you started seeing this someone new. someone who's not him. did you also have a roster of people besides him? when he didn't answer you on purpose, did you jump to the next person like he would do? he shouldn't be thinking too hard about it. but he is.
he doesn't fault you for deciding to cut it off with him. but he starts going over all the what if's. especially when he sees you out and about, can hear your laugh when you're shopping with your new partner. can hear your voice. can hear how different you were compared to with him. he starts scrolling through all your old texts, starts thinking about when you'd try to start conversation with him after he fucked you. that you still had energy to try to talk to him, to get to know him.
and how he can't stop thinking about how you were the only person to give him the time of day aside from being a quick and good dicking down. maybe he did miss the way you'd text him all these random things or give him little voice memos. leaving some of your belongings in his home so you'd have an excuse to come back and see him even though you didn't want to get into his bed.
he's created a little pile of your things: a shirt you left over, some bracelet and ring, and even a toothbrush you brought once. he thinks he should return it to you, an excuse to see you again. the whole time he's trying to think of what he'd say to you though. he'll keep scrolling through your social media pages and starts seeing new photos pop up of you smiling and going out on dates with someone he thinks has a really punchable face. grits his teeth when he sees stories of you having a lazy day in bed together, thinks about all the times he kept you in his bed. chalks it up to him missing being able to bury himself deep inside you. but can't truly tell anyone that he's just extremely jealous he let you slip through your fingers.
thinks he finally has his chance to talk to you again when he tries to go to the club to snag a new fuck buddy, get his mind of you. but when you're there and having the time of your life on the dance floor? he thinks it must be destiny, another shot for him to maybe clear it up. maybe bend you over the bathroom sink like he did the first time you two met and started linking up. but then when he starts making his way through the crowd, he sees who's you're dancing on. he sees the way you turn to wrap your arms around a familiar neck. he sees the way you just look so happy.
and when he sees you giggling and being pushed into the bathroom by your partner, all he can think is, "damn. i messed up."
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do not edit or reupload my works elsewhere (reblogs welcome!)
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myfictionaldreams · 6 months
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Day 11: Exhibitionism/Voyeurism - Winter Soldier
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Summary: Home alone, you think it's safe to have some 'special time', but unbeknown to you, he's there, always watching and admiring.
Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, dubious content, stalker!winter soldier, masturbation, sex toys, loneliness, exhibitionism, voyeurism
masterlist 📚 
kinktober masterlist😈 
AO3 Link 
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Being the adoptive daughter of the infamous Alexander Pierce wasn’t always as exciting and full of potential danger as you’d expect. For the most part, you are confined to your heavily guarded home 24 hours a day, seven days a week. Despite being an adult and wanting to live your own life, your father deemed it too dangerous that you could be captured and used for ransom.
Throughout your life, you’d never even seen one second of action or risk, and some would say that just means your father has protected you to the best of his abilities. There is a point, however, where you need something exciting in your life even though there are only limited ways to get any thrill.
This usually occurred when you were home alone, like tonight. Bored out of your mind whilst watching the TV attached to the wall in the living room, your dad walked past, clicking a button on his phone before tying his show lace. Glancing at the time on your phone, you assumed he was going to work, considering it was so late; you knew better than to ask him what was wrong to demand his time.
Walking over, your dad briefly paused to lean down and kiss your forehead, pretending he cared, but there was nothing Alexander Pierce truly loved more than Hydra. He didn’t even need to say that he was leaving as your dad prepared to leave, assuming you had caught on to his gathering of stuff that he would be going, but before he could step out of the door, you shouted in his direction, “Am I expecting company tonight?”
Your Dad knew who you were referring to. The Winter Soldier. The assassin whom you’d met on numerous occasions tended to turn up unannounced to your home in search of your father to debrief or receive new orders, so you made sure to ask regarding his whereabouts so that you could be prepared for a midnight visit.
“No, he’s a couple of states away on a mission and not due to be back for another few days. I’ll lock up on my way out; don’t wait up for me”. Without another look or even an ‘I love you’, Alexander Pierce left out of the front door, and the sound of the shutters around the windows started to descend, and the thick locks on all doors clicked into place.
You were locked in, and as soon as the metal stopped creaking and you knew your dad’s car had driven off, you sighed in sweet relief at finally being home alone. It was almost like an automatic reaction for your body to become horny as soon as you were locked in, knowing that no one would interrupt and you had free reign to do whatever you pleased, which would always be masturbation.
Turning up the TV loud so you could hear it from your bedroom and not feel as alone, you changed your clothing to just an oversized shirt and nothing more, selecting which vibrator you wanted from the box beneath your bed. Today was going to be the purple bullet vibrator and then returned to the living room.
This was one of the only places where you could feel any sort of rebellion or thrill. Yes, you could and do masturbate in your bedroom just like anyone else would, but being able to do it in technically a public space gave you little bursts of adrenaline. If your father returned home, you’d be able to hear the security system unlocking, but it was also an area that was supposed to be where everyone gathered and had family time. This didn’t refer to your home, though, as you were the only person to use the living area as your father was either in his office, the gym or not home at all.
Lying down on the soft couch, your head nestling into the decorative pillow, you tried to focus your mind into the horny zone. The excitement you anticipated hit you in your gut as you lifted your shirt until it rested over your collarbones to reveal your nude body.
As the chilled breeze ghosted over your skin, it caused a ripple effect of goosebumps to shiver over you, nipples hardening, which sparked pleasure to build in your abdomen and moisture to slick at your entrance. Closing your eyes, your fingers teased over your breasts, imagining they were someone else's hands, exploring the fresh and finding where you were most sensitive.
Pinching your nipples gently, you released a soft sigh as another hand drifted down to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. Biting your lip, your knees separated to allow your fingers to collect some of the juices that had leaked from your hole and then spread it over your clit, massaging the bundle of nerves in circles.
You were entirely in the zone, feeling increasingly more aroused with breathy moans and whimpers escaping your open mouth each second. This was your favourite place to be, hot and bothered, getting yourself off to feel your cunt pulsing around two of your fingers.
Then you were pressing the vibrator against your clit with two fingers delved into your warmth, curling and pressing on the spot that had your back arching and breaths hitching.
Everything was building, like an orchestra reaching its crescendo, approaching the peak of no return and complete euphoria. Then, the sensation rushed over you. Not the pleasant orgasmic blissful shiver but a haunting, the hairs standing on end over your arms and the back of your neck with unease. It felt like someone was watching you, but that wasn’t the case; the building was locked down, and the security cameras didn't point in this direction.
Your eyes opened on instinct, and fear, horror and dread pulsed through your stomach as you screamed, closing your legs and rushing to stand and cover your body with your shirt. Your knees buckled from the lasting effects of getting yourself off, but you clung to the arm of the couch whilst trying to turn off the vibrator.
It felt like your heart had moved to your throat, with the fear of throwing up and passing out at the same time taking over as you stared unblinking at the man currently sitting in the armchair next to the couch you’d been masturbating on. He was sitting as still as a statute, head to toe, in his tactical gear, even the mask.
“Soldier?” your voice reverberates off the walls you’ve shouted that loud. All it earned you was a tilt of his head to the side, but he didn’t say a single word, so you continued to shout, even though you knew you should have remained calm around someone as dangerous as him. “What the fuck are you doing here? You should have knocked or- something! How did you even get in here?!”
He simply sat there, staring at you with deep blue eyes, his long hair framing his face, his deadly hands resting on the arms of the chair, acting casually like he hadn’t just been sitting there as you feverishly masturbated naked in front of him. The more time passed, the worse your tremors became, almost like you were vibrating with anxiety.
It wasn’t uncommon for the Winter Soldier to not knock when he came to the house however usually your father was present or he’d been anticipated but for him to somehow get in when the house was on lockdown and not be expected, it had you on edge.
“Why didn’t you announce yourself, Soldier?” you tried to sound confident and not fearful, but your voice cracked on the last word, which gave away your anxiety. Your thoughts were going around and around in your head; how long had he been there? How did you not even hear him walking into the room?
The Assets head tilted to the other right, his eyes remaining focused only on your face as he finally began to talk in his low, drawled voice, “Why did you stop?”
Your eyes widened in shock briefly before trying to regain control, “What did you say?”
“You don’t usually stop. Why did you stop now?”
Your heart seemed to stop at this question. Swallowing the thick glob of spit in your mouth, you asked, “What do you mean usually? Have... have you seen me doing this before?”
He nods slowly, and you want to vomit immediately. Closing your eyes briefly, you tried to take a deep breath, hoping it would give you some composure. Maybe this was karma working her evil magic on you, you had decided, for having a kink with being caught, which is why you masturbated in the living room. Why on earth were you now upset when you’d actually been caught?
Sighing and rubbing both hands over your face, ignoring that they were still slightly wet from earlier, you tried to explain to the assassin, “You know, it’s not normal to watch people during intimate times like this. You’re supposed to announce yourself or something”.
“But you look at peace when you do it”, he says in the same emotionless voice. His words catch you off guard, but he continues, “You didn’t finish today like you usually do”.
The way he spoke about what you were doing, you weren’t even sure he knew what it was or the consequences of your actions. You knew his history, who he was and how they controlled him. Did he even know what sex was with all the times his mind had been wiped? He wasn’t acting like a creep, even if he had snuck in to watch you masturbate and clearly had watched it several times before. If he was going to hurt you, he would have done so by now, so tentatively, you sat back onto the couch, still pulling the bottom of your shirt lower over your legs and hiding the vibrator beneath your thigh.
“I didn’t finish like the other times because I didn’t know you were watching; it can make people uncomfortable knowing someone is watching them”.
“Does it make you uncomfortable that you know I’m watching?” his tone lowered with the question he was asking.
“Yes! I don’t want people to watch me do this, and what if my Dad finds out? What if you tell him what I’ve been doing?”
Bucky finally showed some emotion as he frowned in confusion, “Why would I tell your father about this? It has nothing to do with the mission? I like watching you because you seem to enjoy it; isn’t that a good thing?”
He seemed so innocent in his questioning. “Just so I’m getting this right, are you expecting me to continue?” The soldier nods yes in an answer as you release a long breath. “If I say no, will you kill me?” This time, he shakes his head, giving you the answer no, which did little to alleviate the nerves catapulting through you.
Standing up from the couch whilst clutching the vibrator, you rushed towards your bedroom, intending to hide the sex toy and lock yourself in so that you didn’t have to sit looking at the soldier anymore. However, as you stood before the door, you thought it over more. If he’d been watching you all of this time, then what’s the difference with him being here now? He could overpower you any time he wanted, and he didn't want any pleasure back; otherwise, he would have made advances before.
This whole situation came about because you liked the thought of being watched or caught, so why were you running away from that scenario? Having made up your mind, you returned to the living room, where the Soldier hadn’t moved even a strand of hair since you’d left in a hurry.
Sitting back on the couch, your eyes remained everywhere but on him. In fact, as you led back down, you closed your eyes with the hopes that not being able to see him would help to calm the pounding of your nervous heart.
Your nipples were still hard, so you pressed on them through your shirt with trembling fingers, not quite believing you were in this situation. The wetness from your earlier escapades was still evident over your thighs, which you sept firmly closed. Biting your lower lip until it hurt, you kept stimulating your nipples by rubbing the peaks around in circles before pinching them to elicit more of a reaction between your legs.
It worked after a couple of minutes as your muscles lost the tension and melted into the cushions further. Eventually, your thighs were spreading as you tried to only think about that orgasm that had been so very close to pleasuring your body but had quickly disappeared from the soldier's appearance.
With your legs now parted and cunt on full displaying, facing the Asset at the end of the couch, you turned the vibrator on, deciding to go straight for the toy this time rather than playing around first. Pressing the device just above your clit, you released a breathy moan, thighs shaking with the increased delight.
This time, your body heated to the point of sweat, and your face hot to the touch because no matter how much you tried to think of anything else, it always came back to the man sitting near you. With your hips jolting and rolling to push against the vibrator, your fingers moved the shirt further up your stomach, revealing your navel and breasts so you could rub and play with them without restriction.
Then, to both your horror and delight, the Winter Solider flashed into your mind, but this time, it was him hovering above you, using his gloved hands to press against your nipples. Your moans increased in volume, back arching with this thought as you begged your mind to continue this naughty thought.
Releasing your breast, your hand trailed down your body, tickling the delicate skin before dipping past your clit and two fingers into your drenched cunt. You were sure he had thicker fingers than you, but the thought of him between your legs, curling them right into that beautiful spot, his other hand holding the vibrator to your clit, had you whithering around on the couch.
Your pussy clenched harshly around your fingers, trying to draw them deeper, needing their fullness. You weren’t sure when it was, but at some point, your eyes opened so that you could look directly at the man in question, who still had failed to move from his seat in the armchair. You weren’t looking at his body thought; you were looking at those sparking blue eyes partially hidden beneath his hair as they continued to look at just your face like he only wanted to see the pleasure you displayed rather than just touching yourself.
“Oh god”, you groan aloud to these thoughts, legs spreading further open and half-flopping off the couch as you curl your fingers faster and harder. You wished it was his fingers touching you, getting you off and bringing you close to the point of orgasming. The vibrator stroked back and forth against your throbbing clit, and that was all the additional stimulation you needed to reach your peak.
Your eyes finally closed once more as you came hard, body shaking and curling in on yourself with each pulse of your pussy around your fingers. You hadn’t orgasmed that hard in months, so it took you a couple of minutes to try and catch your breath and come out of the buzzing created by the euphoria. 
Now what? You thought whilst turning off the vibrator entirely and leaving the two of you in complete silence. The assassins still hadn’t moved, and for a brief second, you thought of his arousal. Could he even be turned on? Was that a function the scientists allowed him to keep while brainwashed? Was he watching you enough to turn him on?
The thought was swiftly pushed out of your mind as you realised he was the fucking Winter Soldier, the highest-trained assassin who was also 70+ years old; this was probably last on his list of things to be worried about. Sitting up whilst covering your body with your t-shirt once more, you struggled to think what to say or do.
“Do you want me to call my Dad to tell him you’re here for a debrief?” From the corner of your eye, the Asset nodded. You stood to take the call in your bedroom, but as you stood, your eyes briefly looked at him more clearly and noticed that he very evidently had an erection with the way his tactical gear was tented at the crotch. For some reason, this made you feel relieved that he had been turned on by what you saw, and it wasn’t just a one-way situation.
Standing and walking into your bedroom, you collapsed onto the bed with your phone raised to your ear.
Your dad answered immediately with a stern tone, “Yes?”
“Uh hey, Dad, just to let you know, the Soldier’s here”.
“What?” came Alexander Pierces’ concerned voice through the mobile.
“Yeah, he just turned up a couple of minutes ago in the living room”.
“Well, tell him to get back to the compound. I won’t be home tonight, so he needs to come here”.
Finishing the conversation with him, you stood to tell the Soldier his orders but found him nowhere in the building, not in the living room, kitchen or even by the front door. He had simply vanished, and what's more, the alarm was still in place, which meant he had a way of getting in and out of your home without triggering the alarm, which you were sure if it terrified or excited you.
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My Heart is Yours
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Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader
Words: 6.3k
Warnings: extreme fluff, maybe a tiny bit of angst? tension? this is just very fluffy because he needs it
Synopsis: It's Simon's birthday and somethings changed between you two...
Link to The Roommate Series Masterlist
You are currently reading part 2 of “The Roommate Series”
You were up earlier than normal two days in a row but this time you had woken up on your own. Usually on the weekends you slept in, enjoying the fact that you didn't have to go to class or do work, dozing in and out of sleep as you listened to your roommate go through his morning before you joined him. However, this weekend was different than most and it was hard for you to want to stay in bed.
For one, Simon was home. You have gone through many weekends without him, so when he was here it was hard for you to justify staying in bed when you wanted to spend time with him. You learned very quickly that you could never take the time spent with him for granted, not when he might be called back into work randomly and then you’d be left alone again. 
Truthfully it was a double edge sword. The more time you spent with him the harder it was to watch him leave but that was the price to pay when you let yourself get attached to a man who disappeared for months.
Another reason was because it was Simon’s birthday.
You were honestly more excited about it than he was. To him, his birthday was just another day but to you it was a day to make things right, to make things better from the vague stories he gave you about the way he grew up.
It was also a chance to have fun with him and to just relax. You didn’t pass up on those opportunities.
You had plans for dinner before you both got drunk off whiskey and any other alcohol you had in your fridge to watch movies. You also still had to make him a cake but more importantly you still had to wrap the gift you had gotten him.
The door to your room was closed but you still glanced at it as if Simon would appear out of thin air before you pulled his gift out from underneath your bed. 
In your hand was a travel sized joke book, one that had the really bad puns and dad jokes in it but it was the only thing that you could think of to get him that he would actually use. Even if you knew a lot about your roommate, he was difficult to shop for because he had everything he already needed and never thought about what he wanted.
“Just tell me something to get you!” You begged as you both walked through the aisles of the grocery store yesterday.
“I don’t want anything.” He shrugged and you huffed. 
“If you don’t tell me I’m going to get you something you won’t like.”
“I’m sure I’ll live.”
Simon would never tell you but it really didn't matter what you got him for his birthday. He would like whatever you got him because if it was something from you he’d cherish it until he died.
You opened the front of the book to make sure the birthday card you got him was still in there before you heard Simon walk past your room. You somehow had woken up before him and you listened to him shut the door to the bathroom before you let out a short breath.
You put the book back underneath your bed and got dressed. You tried to curb your excitement and instead worked through your head to come up with a plan to get him out of the apartment.
Even though he knew what you had planned you still wanted to act as if it was a surprise.
You left your room once you were dressed and made your way to the bathroom, noting that the door was cracked open for you. It was part of the routine you both had set up when he was home and happened to be in the bathroom when you had to get ready for class.
“Happy birthday!” You swung the door open and stood in the doorway with a grin.
Simon was brushing his teeth but gave you a grunt that sounded like a ‘thank you’. He seemed to have just woken up; his blond hair was tousled from sleep and he stared at you with bleary eyes. He was also still in his pajamas which consisted of just sweatpants since the man was practically a space heater and couldn’t wear a shirt to sleep. 
His entire upper body was covered in scars that you were sure had stories to them. It was uncommon for you to see them but sometimes you got a glimpse which struck something deep within your chest. However, right now you were just happy that he truly didn’t have any new scars. 
There was something strangely domestic about the sight of him brushing his teeth while you stood watching him. It felt like something that was meant to be, something that was natural to the apartment and to you both. It warmed your chest, softening the grin as it settled into you again that he was truly back home.
“I see you slept well.” You said and he didn’t have the heart to disagree. “Feel any older?”
“Pass.” He grumbled after he spit into the sink and washed out the fluoride with water.
You giggled and watched him begin to wash his face, unbothered by your presence. You were still running through ideas in your head about how to get rid of him for a few hours before you decided to play the safe route.
“What’re your plans today?” You wondered, trying to not sound suspicious.
“Get drunk and watch movies.” He reminded you and you hummed in response.
“You mean you don’t have anything else planned?”
He turned the water off and patted his face dry with a towel, turning to you with a suspicious look in his eyes when he was finished. It only worsened when you gave him a smile and he let out a long sigh from his chest. 
“You want me out of the flat.” He stated and you decided that it was time to be truthful.
“Just for a few hours.” You gave him a sheepish smile when he sent you an annoyed look. “It’d do you good to go out.”
“I went out yesterday.”
A soft huff left your mouth as you watched him hang the towel back up and he raised his eyebrows expectantly. You knew that it would’ve been hard to get him out the apartment, he was a homebody who practically confined himself to four walls when he was home. It never bothered you but right now you wished he at least had the motivation to go outside.
“You could go visit your friends?” You suggested even though in your entire time living with him you’d never seen or heard about him having any.
“No.” He didn’t hesitate and you sent him a look.
“At least think about it, geez.”
Simon smiled, it was small but it brightened your mood immensely, as he ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to tame it. It had gotten longer since he was gone, the longest you had seen it, and he pulled on a few of the strands to test the length. He didn’t look bad with it that long in your opinion but you assumed by the way he was staring at it through the mirror with intense concentration that he wanted it to be a shorter length. 
“I can pay for your haircut.”
“I prefer cutting my own hair.”
You groaned from his difficultness, not annoyed but you had hoped this would go easier. You weren’t sure if he was doing it on purpose to toy with you or if he genuinely didn’t want to leave the apartment. In hindsight, you couldn’t really blame him since he had gotten back yesterday and most likely just wanted to sit around and enjoy not having to be at his job.
Simon made his way over to you and leaned against the doorframe, his tired eyes staring down at you with confusion as he crossed his arms. Up this close, it was really hard to deny just how big he was and it took everything in you to not stare super long at him.
He seemed to have gained more muscle since you had last seen him and yet he hadn’t thinned down much either. Whatever he did for his job made him physically fit and you wondered if that was the reason why he always ate so much.
Not that you were complaining.
His eyes softened as you made eye contact and they bounced around your face as he leaned forward ever so slightly, making it so there was only a few inches between the two of you.
You were prepared for him to stare at you for a long time before he spoke.
“Why do you want to surprise me if I know what you’re doing?” He wondered and continued to stare at you as if he could read your mind.
“You don’t know everything.” You teased and his eyebrows knitted together. “Like the gift I got you.”
Simon’s eyes widened slightly and he stood up, causing you to bite back a few giggles. He tried to hide his excitement but you could see it in the way his eyes had brightened and his usual serious face had gotten happier just at the mention of a gift. 
It was cute, you couldn’t help but look at him with a warm chest as it was almost like looking at a kid who was just told they’d get ice cream.
“You got me something?” He sounded surprised it made you smile more.
“Mhm.” You nodded and he seemingly held his breath in anticipation. “But you’re not allowed to have it until after we have cake.”
You watched him deflate with slight disappointment before his eyes shot over to your room. You immediately knew what he was thinking about and you sent him a warning look that you hoped would deter him from even daring to search through your room for his gift.
Even if the dinner and the cake wasn’t a surprise, you wanted to keep his present a secret because you were honestly a little worried it wasn’t good enough and you still wanted to have the time to be able to potentially get something different for him.
“Okay, let’s compromise.” You said, trying to get him to forget about the gift, and continued when he looked back at you. “After lunch you leave while I make the cake and then you can come back once I start making dinner.”
Simon thought it over for a moment before he nodded. 
“I’ll help you make dinner.” He added but you shook your head.
“You’re not supposed to help, it’s your birthday.”
“It’s my birthday so I get to do what I want.”
You gasped and stared at him with shock, watching as a triumphant smile stretched across his face. Of course he would figure out a way to use your own arbitrary rules against you for his benefit. You were honestly surprised he hadn’t thought to do it earlier but maybe he was waiting for the right opportunity to catch you off guard.
He was smart, too smart to fall for you silly rules and play along with you.
You pursed your lips together as he looked down at you. You pretended to be offended, giving him a fake glare that couldn’t even be mistaken for anger as you fought back a smile.
“Oh, you think you’re so clever.” You poked him on the chest and watched him tense up slightly before he leaned more into your space.
“I do.”
You scoffed, shaking your head slightly as you placed your hands on your hips. You narrowed your eyes at him, watching as amusement twinkled in his eyes. You focused hard on them, knowing that if you didn’t you would be too enticed by the fact that you could smell the fresh mint on his breath that made you dare to think about what it would be like to press a kiss to his lips in this moment. How you could easily take his face into your hands and run your fingers across the blond stubble on his cheeks, tracing every scar that peppered his otherwise clear skin. 
Instead you looked into his dark brown eyes, finding that you were practically swallowed up in the color of bitter coffee and earth. A void of hidden emotions and an exhaustion that seemed to always plague him yet there was comfort within them expanse of darkness. There was warmth that blanketed you as you stared into his eyes, a sense of safety and stability that you couldn’t find anywhere else, only within the confines of the man who stood in front of you.
It was almost too much, too intense to be looking into his eyes like this. Normally you couldn’t do it for longer than a few seconds but doing so now made you feel almost dizzy, like he was taking the air from your lungs for himself.
And yet couldn’t get enough of him. He could be melded inside of you, his entire soul could be mixed with yours and it still wouldn’t be enough.
“Fine.” You cleared your throat when you noticed that your voice was shaking slightly. “You can help but just remind yourself that it’s your birthday.”
“Fine.” He playfully rolled his eyes before he gently pushed you back. “Go. I need to take a shower.”
“You brush your teeth before a shower? Weirdo.”
Simon sent you a look, still with the hint of playfulness, before he shut the door and it was as if you could breathe again. You stared at the door, taking in the moment you just had with him before the shower turning on shook you out of your thoughts.
You glanced at the door one more time before you moved towards the kitchen to make some breakfast.
~
Shooting whiskey has never been easy for you. The brown liquid burned your throat and settled in your chest long enough to give you an unpleasant shiver throughout your entire body. It was hard to keep back the water in your eyes and the cough as you downed a shot, chasing that funny feeling that made the world spin and everything a lot less stressful.
You had your own drink but you couldn’t deny Simon when he offered the last three shots of whiskey to you, finding that he could be persuasive when he wanted to be.
Both of you sat on the couch in front of the tv, some kind of movie that Simon hadn’t seen was playing in the background but it had been quickly abandoned after the last few shots. Instead of watching, both of you were preoccupied with each other, talking about everything that you could. 
Well, you were doing most of the talking in between shots and sips of a mixed drink while Simon listened. He sipped on his second glass of whiskey but would occasionally join you for a shot when he felt like he was behind you with how drunk you already were.
He wasn’t sure if it was because he was taking it slow and you weren’t or because he was a heavy drinker, but he definitely knew you were having more fun during his birthday than he was. He was too focused on you to really care anyway. You took up the room, demanding his attention and he happily gave it to you without hesitation or protest.
You took another shot, your vision of the world already spinning but you were having too much fun to really notice, and shivered once more. The effects of the alcohol weren't enough to take the bitter taste away just yet.
A smile pulled at the corner of Simon’s lips and he scoffed, getting your attention as you sent him a look through watery eyes.
“Lightweight.” He teased as he took another sip, completely unbothered.
“Shut up, you’re not even drunk.” You slurred and set the shot glass down on the coffee table. “You’re like a mountain.”
“I’m drunk.”
You gave him a suspicious look, one that was over exaggerated due to how drunk you were but it made him smile more nonetheless. 
That should’ve been enough for you to know that he was drunk, since he didn’t give out big cheesy smiles like you did. His cheeks were dusted pink and his tired eyes hungry just a little bit heavier, a haze over them as he stared at you with a dopey look as if he couldn’t quite understand what you were saying but he hung onto every word. He looked content, there wasn’t an ounce of stress left even in his usual tense shoulders as his body subconsciously leaned towards yours, almost as if he was hovering over you.
You were sure you looked just as drunk as he did, if not more, and yet he looked at you with bright eyes that bounced around your face often.
“You are!” You laughed and he attempted to hide the smile behind his hand. “Can’t hold your liquor that good.”
“Better than you.” He took another sip and you playfully cussed him out.
You ran a hand over your face and glanced around the room, noting that it had gotten dark outside. Your eyebrows knitted together and you wondered how long it had been since you both sat down after dinner to watch movies, thinking that only an hour or two had passed until you checked the time on your phone.
“Shit! We haven’t done cake yet.” You exclaimed when you saw that it was close to midnight.
“So?” Simon raised an eyebrow as you shot up from your spot on the couch.
“You have to have cake on your birthday.”
You tried your best to not stumble into the kitchen, failing at doing so but thankfully you didn’t fall flat on your face. You were extra careful when getting the cake out of the fridge despite the fact that you were in a rush, making sure that when you placed it on the counter to put the candles on, nothing was in the way. 
It was a small cake since you knew that Simon probably would only eat a few slices from it over the week before he was over the sweetness. On top of the icing, almost perfectly written since you were adamant to make it look pretty even though you knew he wouldn’t care, were the words “Happy Birthday Simon”. You placed a few candles around the words, making sure they wouldn’t touch the letters before you carried it into the living room.
You were focused on keeping the cake balanced, not noticing the way Simon’s eyes had softened greatly when you walked into the room and set it in front of him.
“I need your lighter.” You opened your palm urgently.
“You’re gonna burn yourself.” Simon protested with a serious look on his face but you waved him off.
“I won’t! Hurry before it turns midnight.”
Simon hesitantly dug his lighter out of his pocket and handed it to you, watching you intently as you lit the candles, making sure that if you burned yourself he would quickly get you to a sink. However you handed him back the lighter without harming yourself and positioned the cake in front of him properly.
You sat down beside him, your knees touching as you looked between him and the cake. A giddy feeling sprung up in your stomach and you wiggled in your spot excitedly watching Simon’s reaction carefully with clasped hands.
He stared down at the cake with soft eyes, the light from the small flames reflecting in them. They weren’t sad, but you noticed that there was a hint of something more melancholic hidden within his eyes that wasn’t there before until he read the writing. He pulled his hands into his lap almost as if he wasn’t sure what he should do before he hesitantly glanced your way.
You gave him a warm smile, one that signified that whatever he was thinking or feeling was okay, hoping that you didn’t go too far.
“Happy birthday, Simon.” You said softly and scooted close enough that now your thighs were touching.
Simon didn’t say anything but he continued to stare at you, eyes a range of emotion as they bounced around your face, stopping for a moment to look at your lips, until you gestured towards the cake.
“Make a wish.”
He rolled his eyes, a soft huff of amusement leaving his nose before he turned towards the cake and blew out the candles. A small smile pulled at his lips when you cheered and he watched as you stood up from the couch a lot more gracefully this time.
“Want a piece or do I have to eat this all on my own?” You teased and he nodded.
“Not a big one.”
You got plates and quickly cut a small piece out for him and for you. You waited for him to take a bite of it first, almost holding your breath as if this was the very moment that would break your entire ego about your baking skills.
Simon took a small bite of the cake and his eyes shut immediately.
“Fucking hell…” He muttered and your stomach sunk.
“What? Is it bad?” You asked him urgently as you gripped your plate so tight your fingers went sore.
“It’s good, really fucking good what did you put in this?”
Your eyes widened slightly and you felt your chest warm as you watched him eat the piece on his plate faster. You were sure if it was the alcohol making him like the sweetness but as soon as he finished the piece he had he went for another one. 
You smiled to yourself, taking a bit out of the cake on your plate. You hummed at the amazing flavors and felt proud of yourself as you eyed Simon.
“My undying desire to celebrate your birthday.”
“Piss off.”
You laughed, leaning into him enough to where you could hear him chuckle under his breath. The giddy feeling inside of you grew and you didn’t dare ignore it as you found yourself enjoying the closeness that you so rarely got with Simon, pushing yourself into his arm just a little more as you finished your piece of the cake.
Your chest warmed more when he leaned against you as if he liked the contact as well and your head fell to his shoulder, a content sigh leaving your chest as you reveled in his warmth. You noticed that he seemed to have gotten hot due to the alcohol and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, causing your eyes to jump down to the tattoo on his arm.
It was rare that you saw it since he often wore long sleeves and when he didn’t you never got a good look at it. You assumed that he didn’t want you to see it since every time you asked or he noticed you were staring at it, he would cover it up. Now, with the way you were sitting against him, he couldn’t see that you were staring at the ink unless he turned to look at you.
His tattoo was a lot more intricate than you had first thought, especially now as your eyes traced over the details in the ink designs. You knew he had a thing for skulls, since the mask he wore around you was the lower jaw of one, so it didn’t surprise you when you saw the skulls littered within the other designs. What did come as a surprise to you was that most of the tattoo was war imagery.
Guns, dog tags, a tank, and a literal military soldier etched into his skin made it less a coincidence and more a deliberate design. It made your eyebrows knit together and you fought the urge to grab his arm to look closer.
Was he military? The more you thought about it, the more it started to make sense with the evidence that you had. Going away for months, the guns, the paranoia and depressive episodes, the wounds, all of it paired with his tattoo made it seem obvious and yet there was one issue.
If he was military, then why didn’t he tell you?
It made you curious and yet wary of the answer. Truly, you didn’t want to know, not when he was so adamant to keep it from you, as if knowing would be something that you would regret. 
Besides, someone in his family could be military and despite your reservations about them from your limited knowledge, you weren’t going to be upset if he got a tattoo for them in their memory.
Simon seemed to have noticed that you were staring at it and he placed his large hand over it, covering it from your view and snapping you out of your daze. He looked down at you, his eyes the same as always except you could see that serious look in them, the one demanded you to not ask questions.
“You still have that gift for me or do I need to do somethin’ else for it?” He wondered and you smiled.
“Wait here.” You handed him your plate before you got up and rushed to your room.
You grabbed the joke book from under your bed and made sure that the wrapping was intact. You went to walk out of your room but hesitated a pit growing in your stomach as you stared down at the silly birthday wrapping paper.
Were you really about to give a guy who might be military a joke book? Suddenly you felt foolish, as if you had been caught doing something that you shouldn’t have and you debated on whether you should pretend it got damaged to get something different. It would save you the embarrassment of giving him a stupid book but it would probably disappoint him in the process. 
You could unwrap it and give him the card instead, but that would nearly be almost more of a let down than the actual gift.
A huff left you and tapped your fingers against the wrapping paper.
You should’ve just gotten him a generic gift that most men get, like a bottle opener or a pocket knife. At least that way he wouldn’t have been too disappointed.
“Still there?” Simon called out and your heart jumped to your throat.
“Yeah, couldn't find it for a sec.” You lied and took a deep breath before you stepped out of your room. 
If you got this over with then at least you could get him a different one later. You could always tell him it was a gag gift in an attempt to save yourself too much embarrassment but you felt that somehow Simon would see right through your lie.
You walked into the living room, holding the book close to you as if it were something precious and sat down further away from him this time, noticing that he always had pulled his sleeves down. You glanced up at him to see that he had the excited look in his eyes like he had earlier in the morning which made you even more nervous.
“You didn’t tell me what you wanted so if it’s bad, I’m sorry.” You prefaced and watched as he raised an eyebrow.
“You’re overthinking this.” He tried to assure you with his usual deadpan tone.
“Maybe…just don’t laugh if it’s that bad.”
“I won’t.”
You hesitantly outstretched the gift for him and watched as he gently took it from your hands. You chewed on your lip as you watched him inspect the wrapping on it before he began to tear it off, causing you to grip the couch underneath you. You were practically burning holes into his face when he finally took all of the wrapping off and looked at the cover of the book.
Simon's eyes lit up and it helped calm some of your nerves. 
“I wasn’t sure what you were allowed to have when you’re gone but I got it travel sized.” You explained and he glanced at you with a twinkle in his eyes.
“You like my jokes that much?” He seemed amused by the idea and when you nodded, he huffed a laugh.
“There’s a card in the front.”
Simon pulled the card out, a simple card with a dinosaur on the front that had “ur old” written on the front, and sent you a quick glare that made you snicker. He opened the card and raised an eyebrow at the twenty pounds that fell onto his lap.
“Nobody likes cards without money.” You shrugged and he picked up the note to inspect it. “Use it to get cigarettes or something pretty.”
“Something pretty.” He repeated with amusement. “Think a I need a pop of color?”
“It’d do you good I think.”
He grunted and looked at the card, his face falling when his eyes landed on the polaroid that was taped on the inside and the writing that was scrawled onto the blank space of the card. His sudden change in his expression made you fidget with your fingers as you remembered the photo.
It was a rare photo of you and Simon together, one that you pretty much had to force him to take with you since he seemed to be allergic to any kind of camera. You promised him that it was just for you since you wanted to at least document that you were friends with him somehow. You ended up making two copies and thought it was fitting for him to have one since he was your friend after all.
“I forgot I put that in there…” You mumbled but trailed off as you realized he most likely wasn’t listening.
Simon read the words on the card over and over again, his eyes jumping from them to the polaroid as if he couldn’t understand what he was seeing. His shoulders had tensed up and his free hand clutched the banknote so tight that it crumpled in his grasp. 
By now you were worried that you had either overstepped or completely failed with the gift giving. You were disheartened, your throat tightening up just a bit as you tried to come up with something to say to alleviate the situation.
“You can ignore what’s on the card, I wrote it when you were gone.” Your eyes were glued to his face to see his reaction.
Simon’s eyes darted to you and you shrunk underneath his intense gaze. He was breathing ever so slightly harder, enough for you to notice, and his eyes hazy yet there was something deep hidden within them, something that made a shiver go down your spine. His gaze was too much but you still couldn’t look away as much as you wanted to, as if looking away from him would cause more trouble.
He haphazardly put the card down and before you could react, took your face into his hands and kissed you on the corner of the mouth.
You froze. Your eyes were wide and your heart was in your ears as your mind raced a million times a minute, trying to figure out if what just happened was real and if he truly meant to kiss you there. All the while Simon stared at you with similar shock, almost as if he didn’t mean for it to happen at all.
Was he going for your cheek and missed? Was he going for your lips and missed? Did he actually just kiss you or was it a really drunk hug?
You were panicking, your already shot nerves mixing with the alcohol created a strange feeling in your stomach that urged you to attempt to kiss him back. 
However, much to your dismay, he quickly pulled away from you before you could even have your lips connected. Heat immediately washed over you and you nearly ran out of the room as you scooted away from him, completely unable to look him in the eyes now as you felt the need to sink into the couch and never appear again.
You misread the situation, the alcohol had gotten you, the horrible, stupid liquid turned your brain to mush and made you too impulsive. You wanted to die, you wanted to do anything to get rid of the embarrassment you felt that you went to leave before Simon grabbed onto your wrist.
“Don’t.” He pulled you back down and kept hold of your wrist. “Look at me.”
You couldn’t make yourself look at him even if you wanted to. The thought of having to stare at his intense eye right now made you feel sick to your stomach. You just wanted to hide in your room until both of you decided that this never happened and that your friendship wasn’t ruined by a misunderstanding. 
“Please.” 
One word, soft and desperate, had you turning your entire body towards him immediately. You hesitated for a moment before you looked into his eyes, the comforting brown dowsing some of your nerves as he drank up your face, the intensity still there but held back by the fact that his face was red and he eyes broke from yours multiple times.
He looked just as embarrassed as you felt.
You were about to apologize when he cut you off.
“Not like this.” He swallowed hard and stared deep into your eyes hoping that you would understand what he meant without him having to say it out loud.
It took you a moment to realize and most of the embarrassment fading as his eyes darted away from yours. You stared down at his hand around your wrist, his hot skin against yours prickle with goosebumps before you eyes widened. If he doesn’t want to kiss you now that means he wants to kiss you later which means he’s thought about kissing you.
You felt dizzy at the thought and you could hardly think straight as it was. You couldn’t think about the implications of the words he said right now, not when you were stumbling drunk and close to a heart attack due to this very awkward situation that he admittedly put you both in. 
“Oh.”
That’s all you could think to say. A meek ‘oh’ as if that was enough to convey the feelings and thoughts raging inside of you that would surely clear the air if you said them yet you couldn’t find the words to do so. But right now maybe that wasn’t what you both needed.
No, right now you needed to ease the situation so you could think about this later with a clear mind and without screwing it up more.
“Tell me a joke.” You said, your voice still small, and he looked at you with confusion. “Tell me a joke, Simon.”
Simon let go of your wrist and turned away from you. He gave you one last glance before he picked up the joke book and flipped through the pages, taking his time to read through the lines which filled the room with awkward silence that mixed with the random movie on the TV. 
He took a deep breath and cleared his throat.
“What do you call a prisoner going down the stairs?” He asked and you knitted your eyebrow with confusion. He didn’t look up from the book when you didn’t answer but he nodded. “Condescending.”
“Oh man.” You scoffed, cringing at the horrible joke but finding it hard to not laugh all the same.
You fought against a smile that threatened to appear on your face and you made eye contact with Simon as he glanced at you. You watched as his shoulder relaxed slightly and he looked back down at the book in his hands, eyes skimming the words like mad.
“A book fell on my head today. I’ve only got my shelf to blame.”
“Ugh! Horrible.”
You couldn’t hold back your laughter now or the smile as the alcohol made it so much easier for the jokes to make you happy. You scooted closer to him and he turned his body towards you, his eyes still looking at you hesitantly, almost as if he was asking you permission to keep going or to even look at you, but he couldn’t help but smile as well. 
“What kind of murderer has fiber?” He asked and you shook your head. 
“I’m going to regret this aren’t I?” You waited for him to continue as you prematurely cringed from the bad joke that was about to grace your ears.
“A cereal killer.”
You made a disgusted sound but laughed and rested your forehead against his shoulder. You expected him to nudge you off but he didn’t and instead you heard him let out a quick sigh of relief before he flipped through the book again.
Simon rattled off a few more jokes, each of them making you laugh and taking the tension out of the air until both of you were settled against each other on the couch as if nothing had happened. He pressed his shoulder against yours as he closed the book and stared up at the ceiling. 
The movie took up the silence as you both sat there for a moment.
You looked up at him and he looked down at you when he saw you move from the corner of his eye. You took in his scars again and the way that they seemed more prominent from his red cheeks, looking into his eyes to see that they still had the tired look in them before you spoke.
“How drunk are you?” You wondered and he blinked.
“Not drunk enough to forget this.” He admitted, knowing exactly the reason why you asked him.
You nodded, knowing that you were the same. Even if you were more drunk than you were right now sure that you would remember something like this and yet the thought didn’t scare you. As embarrassing as it was, you didn’t want to forget it.
“Good.”
Link to Part 3
A/N: This feels messy but honestly I can't go back and restart so I hope it's okay. Also Idk how the UK money system works so just imagine what I put is correct and not wrong lol
EDIT: I forgot to put the tags sorry!! @msecho19
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uyuforu · 2 months
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Uyu's Astrological Observations III
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₊˚⊹♡ It's so easy to recognize Aquarius placements on instagram, just look at James Deen's Instagram. You will instantly understand why.
₊˚⊹♡ I realized that Saturn in 7H Solar Return Chart is also about limits in relationships, and in this case you could find it hard to find someone else than your crush that year for example. Or your ex. No one seems better. If you are in a relationship, you could find that you are literally only interested in them. Which is a good thing!
₊˚⊹♡ Vertex in 7H in a Solar Return can be a sign of meeting someone that will become very important in your life.
₊˚⊹♡ The more I see people's SR Charts, the more I see many people of different age getting married between 2026-2028. (why?)
₊˚⊹♡ My Juno is in Scorpio 2H 26° (Taurus house & degree), my FS's Juno is also in Scorpio, and he is Taurus rising. His Juno is also in 2H and 2° (both Taurus placements). My Groom is in my 10H, and my FS's Groom falls in his 10H too. My FS's Briede is in Gemini, and my Briede is in my 3H. It also conjuncts my Moon.
₊˚⊹♡ Scorpio placements NEVER forget, and they can hold grudges forever. My grandma has a Scorpio stellium, she has been deceived by a friend when she was a child, and decided to NEVER again trust people too much. She never got a best friend because it.
₊˚⊹♡ The moon persona chart can really tell you about stuff you never realized or stuff you never wanted to accept about yourself.
₊˚⊹♡ Moon/ Cancer/ or Moon influences over the 7H= marrying someone younger than you, or marrying at a young age
₊˚⊹♡ Some people's Juno and Groom/ Briede happen to be the same person, but not for everyone. Juno represents your ideal partner, it has more of a spiritual link and destiny vibe. Some people marry someone they don't have any soul attachment to.
₊˚⊹♡ Saturn/ Capricorn/ or Saturn influences over the 7H= marrying someone older than you, or marrying when you are older.
₊˚⊹♡ Men attracted to women often have their Briede PC looking identical to their wife's Natal Chart.
₊˚⊹♡ My Parents had Vertex in the 5H Composite, and they had a baby (me)
₊˚⊹♡ But they also had Briede and Groom in 3H, they were indeed engaged but never married. And their 7H is empty.
₊˚⊹♡ My step mother's sun also fall in their 9H, conjuncting Chiron. My dad left my mom for her.
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₊˚⊹♡ If you want to see if it's gonna work out with someone, don't only check basic synastry, composite, etc. But also Persona Chart synastry! For example, check Boda PC Synastry, and see if your weddings are "the same".
₊˚⊹♡ Gemini Sun on Boda Persona Chart could indicate having two weddings (just a theory)
₊˚⊹♡ In my DSC Persona Chart, my FS's Natal sun fall in the 7H in that PC. My DSC PC's Juno is in the 7H too, and so also conjuncting his Natal Sun.
₊˚⊹♡ Let's talk about the Union PC, it's not something very known.
₊˚⊹♡ Uranus in my Union PC is in 9H in Aquarius, and I met my FS online first and then in a foreign country where technology is pretty advanced. It was also a sudden meeting!
₊˚⊹♡ The rising of my Union PC is Gemini 22°, and when I met my FS, our meeting was very organized, and I didn't know if it was a date or not, so I was a bit cold and detached. But we met in a foreign country, and I was speaking in a foreign language (English).
₊˚⊹♡ Groom in my Union PC is in Leo 25° (Aries), and my FS was flirty, and very showing off when we met. It's also in 3H, he was a true rizz. Also conjuncting Venus, he REALLY wanted to seduce me. He went hard, it was so obvious lmao.
₊˚⊹♡ This could also explain why my Briede in this PC is in Capricorn, and I was cold and detached lol. His rizz was a turn off.
₊˚⊹♡ Speaking of synastry in Union PC, my Sun there is in Virgo, and in my FS Union PC, Briede is in Virgo. In his Union PC, his Sun is in Leo, and in my Union PC, Groom is in Leo.
₊˚⊹♡ My FS's rising in Union PC is the same as his NC, and Cancer is over the 4H. We met in his homeland, where he was born.
₊˚⊹♡ Also, his Natal North Node conjunct his North Node in Union PC, meaning the meeting with his FS is part of his destiny.
₊˚⊹♡ Our Union also conjunct each other in Union PC Synastry.
₊˚⊹♡ My Briede in Union PC falls in his 11H, and his Groom in Union PC falls in my 11H. We met online first.
₊˚⊹♡ My father had a pretty intense and sometimes toxic relationship with his ex-wife, my step mother, and her sun was in his 8H, conjuncting Chrion... 😬
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₊˚⊹♡ My father also has Part of Fortune in the 9H and it conjuncts his MC. He travels for work.
₊˚⊹♡ My father had 3 children: my sun falls in his 12H and he was an absent father figure in my life. My brother's sun falls in his 3H, and they tell the same joke, have the same way to talk. They have a lot in common when it comes to topics to discuss. And my sisters's sun fall in his 5H, she is the favorite child.
₊˚⊹♡ My Sun conjunct my mother's Ceres, and she is very protective of me.
₊˚⊹♡ I noticed a lot of people have North Node retrogrades. It usually means they think they are going to struggle to meet their destiny. For example: my FS has scorpio 7H North Node. And he has this thought that he will never marry.
₊˚⊹♡ I don't know much about Astrocartography, but I have been studying it a little recently. I realized that my Sun DC line and North Node DC line falls on the place I met my FS ;-;
₊˚⊹♡ I also checked my FS' Astrocartography and he got his North Node DC on the place we met lol.
₊˚⊹♡ I was Scorpio rising in my SRC of the year a lot of guys wanted to be intimate with me.
₊˚⊹♡ This year SRC I am Leo rising, and I met a lot of guys who happens to have crush on me. It's insane, I feel popular ;-;
₊˚⊹♡ Im not a big fan of Moon conjunct Sun in Synastry, but because it either the best or worst relationship ever. I realized every people who have my moon sign as their sun, we never get along, they hate me while we never truly talked. But, people who have my sun sign as their moon actually annoy me lmao? I guess the sun sign feels threaten by the moon sign embodying their energy?
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scuderiahoney · 26 days
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congrats on 1k lovely!!! your writing just feels so grounded but romantic and it's just such a great combination :) could we get soft prompt "linking arms when walking around together" or "reaching out for the others hand just to hold it" with either charles or lando?? like they always tell each other they are just "friends" and never establish anything further but the reader is just a touchy kind of person with their friends and charles or lando just let them attach themselves to them :3 can't wait for ur next work!!
hi i’m sorry this is so late but i finally wrote it omg!! thank you!!
You’ve always been a touchy person. People have been teasing you about it your whole life. Your friends call you clingy affectionately, your exes have called you suffocating, and others fall somewhere in the middle. You can’t help it, really- when you care about someone, you want to touch them. It makes you feel grounded and safe.
Charles has never seemed to mind. He’s one of a few who never comments on it, never teases you for it, and really, of everyone, he might have the most right to. He’s gone so often throughout the year that when you do get to be around him, you stay glued to his side. You hold his hand at parties, lean against him on couches in living rooms, and hook your arm through his when you take walks together.
He never complains, never even laughs in response. He just squeezes your hand, leans back against you, and tugs your elbow with his to pull you close. It’s no surprise he’s the one you feel most comfortable around, and that maybe you’ve developed a bit of a crush on him.
But you know how these things end. Eventually, he’ll tire of your touchiness. He’ll start to pull away first, start to avoid sitting next to you. It always happens, with everyone you’ve ever wanted to be close with. You know it must be exhausting, keeping up with you.
When he comes home to Monaco for the winter break, you try to tone it down. Your friend had made a comment the weekend before, about how nobody would be able to pry you away from him when he got back, and you’d gone red at the extended teasing from your friends. Maybe they were right. Maybe you should try to be a bit more normal with him. You don’t want to scare him away.
Things are fine for the first few weeks of the break. He’s the same as always, more relaxed in the off season and happy to be home with friends and family. You still spend plenty of time with him, but you try not to hug him for so long, and try to keep a bit more distance. It’s for the best, as much as your chest aches.
Then you’re at his apartment, late after everyone else has left, nursing the last sips of your drink. You’re sitting on the floor, and Charles is laying on the couch behind you. He sets his empty drink down on the table and clears his throat. You tear your eyes away from the movie on the TV and turn to him expectantly.
“You’re being weird,” he says, quietly, almost sounding hurt.
You blink at him, brows furrowed. “What?”
“Normally, you are so…” he huffs, waving his hands around. “You hold my hand, or sit next to me, or- you are-“
“Clingy,” you fill in.
He blinks, then frowns. “No. Clingy is… no. You are just usually closer. You’re far away now.”
You shake your head. “I’m right here.”
Charles huffs, and then he sits up and hooks both of his hands under your arms and pulls. You let out a squeak as he lifts you up onto the couch easily, tucking you into the space between him and the back of it, slotted right against his side. Then he wraps his arms around your middle, as if to say, stay here. You swallow down the tears that threaten to spring up in your eyes.
“Now you are right here,” he says. He brushes a kiss against your hairline and sighs happily. “I have been missing this.”
You shrug, voice quiet when you say, “everyone is always teasing me for being clingy. I was worried I was annoying you.”
He shakes his head against yours, and one of his hands squeezes your hip. “No. I like having you close.”
That brings on a fresh wave of tears. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything. He just rubs his hand against your side as he holds you there, and you melt into the warmth of him. Close. You like it, too.
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clemsnovalak · 2 months
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february 1st // ms47
pairing: mick schumacher x mercedes employee!reader (implied to be something in finance/accounting)
word count: 2512
summary: what was supposed to be a lazy day in with your boyfriend turns out to be a day of shocking news, multiple times over. featuring the man himself sebastian vettel as everyone's favourite advice-giver and what is probably an incredibly inaccurate retelling of what went on in that meeting at mercedes. but that's artistic license babey
warnings: not only is this hardly edited, it is also the product of word vomit and sleep deprivation. also seb tries to be hip and it's so incredibly cringy but i couldnt bring myself to edit it out.
radio check: first fic !!! this is the first piece of writing i've shared on tumblr in...months, probably? anyway sorry in advance for what youre about to read hopefully it'll only get better from here:3
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“Mick?”
“Yes, schatz?” your boyfriend calls out. The coffee machine is running in the background, but it’s not loud enough that it drowns him out. It does make you want a coffee, though.
“They’ve called an emergency meeting at Brackley,” you say, frowning at the email on your phone. “Unless you’ve already been briefed on whatever it is, I think they want us both there.”
Today was the one day a week you could work from home, and since Mick didn’t have any pressing commitments today (for once), you’d decided to have a bit of a lazy day together. You were mostly on top of things anyway, with no deadlines to meet for another week, so you could afford to take it easy for one day.
With less than a month to the first race of the season, the final stages of preparation were in full swing, so getting to spend a morning procrastinating a little was precious. Not today though, apparently, because you’d just received an email from your supervisor that everyone needed to be at the technology centre for an important announcement.
“Do we need to be there in person?” Mick asks, coming into your shared bedroom and handing you a cup of coffee. “Surely there’s an online option.”
You take a sip and shake your head. “Unless you want to ask for a video call link yourself, because there’s nothing attached to the email.”
Mick grimaces and lets out a sigh like Angie does when she’s annoyed—you wouldn’t be surprised if that was something she picked up from him. He turns his attention to your shared wardrobe and puts his hands on his hips, “I guess we should get ready to go now if we want to make it in time. Shall we bike?”
“It would make Seb proud,” you joke.
As you pour out Angie’s breakfast, you can’t shake the sinking feeling in your stomach—whatever the news was going to be, there was no way it was going to be good.
“Toto hasn’t mentioned anything to you, has he? About like layoffs or anything?” you ask Mick as you put on your shoes. He stops searching for your helmets and shakes his head.
“Nothing that would warrant a meeting on such short notice. I’m just as confused as you are. If it were anything finance-related, you’d know about it though, no? That’s your area of expertise.”
You frown again. “I guess you’re right. I haven’t flagged anything and neither has anyone else on my team. It’s just…weird to get an email this urgent when everything’s seemed to be okay lately.”
“Whatever it is, I’m sure Toto and James will have an explanation,” Mick assures you, handing you your helmet and opening the door to leave. “After you, schnuckiputz.”
You give Angie one last pet before heading out. “Never call me that again, oh my god.”
The bike ride to Brackley is nice. It usually is. There aren’t too many cars on the road, the sun is out, and yet you can’t stop feeling like something is about to go horribly wrong. The feeling doesn’t quell when you make it to the technology centre, and everyone seems just as confused as you. Mick, seemingly sensing your heart rate accelerating faster than an RB19 on a straight, takes your hand and squeezes it twice. You squeeze back, trying your best to focus on trying to find someone who might know what’s going on amidst all the chaos.
In the middle of it all are James Allison, Lewis, and Bono, the latter looking slightly nervous as he fiddles with a microphone. 
“Wait, where’s Toto?”
“He’s in Milan,” George says, sidling up to you and your boyfriend. “He didn’t have time to make it back to the UK before calling this meeting, but it’s an important one. Good to see you, by the way, how was your break?”
“George, do you know what’s going on?” Mick asks. 
“So, you see—”
He’s cut off by James tapping on the microphone nervously, Toto appearing projected on the wall. You can see Jack in the background, running around with what look to be diecast F1 cars in each hand. You’ve never seen your team principal look so…confused? Upset? You couldn’t even place the emotion. 
“Thank you all for being here on such short notice,” James begins, “I’m very sorry to inconvenience those of you who were at home today, but we felt this was too important not to deliver in person.”
“And I’m very sorry I can’t be there with you,” Toto adds, “but this all happened too quickly for me to be able to fly back in time. But there’s no point in waiting around and sugar-coating things.”
Now, it’s Lewis’ turn to take the mic. “Hi everyone, hope you’re all having a good day so far. I haven’t exactly prepared well for this moment, so I’ll cut to the chase: this season will be my last here at Mercedes, and I’ve signed a contract with Ferrari for 2025.”
Your jaw drops. You turn to Mick, who’s still listening intently to what Lewis has to say, and then to George, who tries to give you a sympathetic smile. 
The rest of the meeting is a blur, and you find yourself restless until you get back home. Mick looks at you, face full of concern. “Schatz, are you okay?”
“What the fuck,” is all you can manage.
“What the fuck indeed,” he says, guiding you over to the couch. Angie patters over, jumping between the two of you and resting her head on your lap. 
“Can you call Seb?” you ask. Mick raises his eyebrow, confused, but pulls out his phone. On the third ring, Sebastian Vettel picks up the phone.
“Hallo?”
“SEB, HAST DU DIE FUCKING NEWS GEHÖRT?” you yell. You didn’t use the German you’d picked up from Mick much, usually afraid of making some kind of a mistake and embarrassing yourself in front of the native speakers you found yourself hanging out with, but for once it felt right.
“What happened to hello? How are you? How was your weekend?”
“Hi, Seb. Hope you and the family are well. Your ski trip looked like a lot of fun; I hope it was nice and relaxing. Anyway, have you spoken to Lewis at all lately?” Mick asks, considerably calmer than you are right now. He’d spoken to George as you were leaving, who explained that his teammate had activated an exit clause in his contract just the other day. 
Your mind was racing with questions: why now? Why Ferrari? Where would Carlos go?  How would the team dynamic even work between Charles and Lewis? Who was going to replace him?
“About a week ago, why? Oh, did he announce the Ferrari thing today?”
Your jaw drops just as much, if not more, than it did during the initial announcement. “You knew? And you didn’t tell us?”
You can hear the smug smile in Sebastian’s tone, see the shrug he does when he’s being a little shit about something. “Didn’t come up.”
“Okay but…why? How? What the fuck?” you stammer, waving your arms as if the man on the other end of the line can see through the phone.
You look down at Mick’s phone and see that Seb is requesting to switch to a video call. Mick looks at you for confirmation, and, when you nod, accepts. The dark screen is replaced by the face of the overly giddy 30-something-year-old man you call a father figure grinning.
“You see, kids, when I was your age, the big deal transfer of the time was when Lewis moved to Mercedes.”
“He’s acting like we’re toddlers who don’t know our F1 history again,” Mick whispers to you, rolling his eyes.
Between the surprisingly good ability of his phone microphone to pick up on sound and your poorly concealed giggles, you can tell Sebastian heard the comment, but instead of dignifying it with a response he continues on. “I can guarantee you none of us thought it was a good move. Mark and I were giggling like schoolgirls having a sleepover when the news broke, thinking it would be a…how do you call it…a flop? Yes, a flop of a move. Jenson even tried starting a betting pool on how long he’d last until he tried getting out of the contract.”
His lecture is, thankfully, interrupted by two of his actual kids taking over the screen to say hello.
“Is Angie there?” the younger one asks.
“Can we see her?”
Seb lets out a squawk of indignation when the older one takes his phone from him to wave at Angie, who continues to lay unbothered on your lap. She’s never been a big fan of video calls (it hurts Mick’s feelings immensely when he’s away).
“Bienchen, wir führen ein Erwachsenengesprach! Gib mir bitte mein Handy zurück.” 1
“Aber Papa, es ist langweilig! Du sprichst zu viel,” one of them giggles. 2
“She’s right, you know,”  you chime in. “What’s your point with all this?”
Sebastian sighs, but soldiers on with his speech. You can’t see him, “My point is, even then, Lewis made a move we all thought was absolutely crazy and look how that turned out for him! We don’t know what’s going on in his head, but if I’ve learned anything from racing against him all those years, it’s not to underestimate him. I believe this is what you kids mean when you say, ‘let him cook.’”
“Oh, he’s trying to be relatable now,” Mick groans, giving you the phone and putting his face in his hands.
You stew in his words while Seb tries to wrangle his phone back from his kids with promises of buying them ice cream and taking them to the aquarium this weekend.
“I guess you’re right, Seb. At the end of the day, it’s just another driver transfer. But it’s weird.”
“What’s weird is that you’re spending too much time being worried about the fact that Lewis is leaving to even think about the fact that the seat he’s leaving behind is objectively one of the most wanted spots in the sport. Mick, you have an opportunity now to secure a full-time seat in F1 again! Isn’t that exciting!”
Just then, Mick’s phone rings, and your eyes widen at the caller ID.  
“Uh, Seb, can we call you back? Mick’s getting a work call,” you say. Mick’s head shoots up.
Seb smiles on the other end of the line. “Of course. Take care, you two, I’ll talk to you later.”
He hangs up, and the two of you stare at the screen, unmoving. 
“Toto’s calling,” Mick says.
“We should pick up,” you answer.
“We should definitely pick up.”
“Why haven’t we picked up?”
“I’m scared to pick up.”
“We’re too introverted for this,” Mick sighs, taking the phone back and accepting the call. He puts it on speaker, “Hello?”
“Mick, how are you? How’s your girlfriend?”
“Oh, you know, normal Thursday in the Brackley residence. We’re having a bit of a lazy day, we’re on the couch with Angie now that we’re both home from the factory.”
“I’m inconsolable, Toto,” you wail. “I’ve been in such shock Mick had to test my reaction time to make sure I could bike back home safely.”
The timing of this phone call is too perfect. The news of Lewis leaving is fresh—raw, even, you don’t think it’s been confirmed by any socials yet—and now Mick’s getting a call out of nowhere from his team principal on his day off? Your heart swells at the implications, but you hold back on making any assumptions until Toto makes his intentions clear. For all you know, it could be a call that he’s been passed on because they’ve already found someone. One of the juniors, maybe—Fred was insanely talented, and Kimi was a force to be reckoned with. Maybe George would vouch for Alex—but even then, Mick might be a contender to replace him at Williams. But you wanted Mick at Mercedes with you, goddammit.
“Yes, I can imagine. It’s come as a big shock to us all. I was wondering, though, if I might be able to speak with Mick one-on-one?”
Oh. 
Oh.
“Of course, one moment, please,” Mick says. The look he gives you tells you everything you need to know: if you promise not to react audibly to whatever Toto’s about to say until he hangs up, he’ll leave the phone on speaker. You nod vigorously and make the motion of zipping your lips. 
“You’ve been working very hard in the simulator this past season, Mick,” Toto begins, “and your lap times in testing have also been very impressive. I’m not sure we would have improved as much as we did towards the end without your hours testing out new setups.”
“Oh, it’s really no—” you glare at your boyfriend, daring him to put himself down in this moment. “I mean, yes, thank you, I put a lot of time into it.” 
“Which is why I was wondering if you would be interested in a full-time seat?”
For the third time today, you think the lower half of your mouth is going to fall off. You might actually just pass out at this point. But you don’t. You are the personification of cool, calm, and collected.
Mick doesn’t reply immediately, but his eyes have gone wide and you think he’s on the verge of tears. You’d tease him, but if you opened your mouth you’d probably sob too. “Of course, you have plenty of time to decide, but think it over?”
“I’ll, uh…I’ll think about it, yeah. Talk to my manager and stuff, you know. Talk to the family, see what everyone thinks.”
Toto laughs on the other end of the line, and you briefly wonder if he knows you’re still there. Surely not. You’re biting your fist to avoid reacting too loudly until you’re sure Mick’s hung up the phone, but it’s not going well. 
You’re so focused on that, in fact, that you don’t even hear the rest of the conversation. You don’t notice Mick’s talking to you until he’s kneeled down in front of you, and you don’t notice you’re crying until he’s wiping a tear from your cheek. “Schatz, are you okay?”
Immediately, you snap out of it. “Am I okay? Mick, Mickey dearest, love of my life, apple of my eye, my ray of sunshine, holy shit, you might be driving for Mercedes next year and you’re asking me if I’m okay?”
He shifts his gaze down to your knees, and you realize it hasn’t fully sunk in for him yet. You take his hands in yours and squeeze twice; the two of you sit in silence together as he processes the information.
“Oh my god,” he mutters. “What the fuck.”
You grin, feeling a bit like Sebastian over the phone just moments earlier. “What the fuck indeed. I'm so proud of you, liebe.”
Maybe Lewis switching teams wasn’t so bad after all.
translation notes (please lmk if i got anything wrong i translated to the best of my abilities) : 1 bienchen is like. little bee. + we're having an adult conversation! give me my phone back, please.
2 but dad, that's boring. you talk too much.
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bagofshinyrocks · 2 months
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Biting (Affectionately)
Prompt: TF141 with a S/O who affectionately bites them [Requested by @airghostlyfox]
Featuring: TF141 - John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x GN!Reader
Word Count: 0.6k
Warnings: a wee bit suggestive, but nothing nsfw
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John Price
John doesn’t mind all that much (i.e. he finds it endearing, but won’t tell you so). As long as it’s in private. 
When watching TV, he expects for you to curl up with him and start “chewing” on the muscles in his arms. When he’s messing with you, pinching your cheeks and flicking your nose, he expects for you to start nipping at his fingers like a playful dog. When he blocks the doorway and refuses to move, of course you’ll lunge at him and start biting at his face until he has no choice but to move.
But he gets embarrassed if you do it in public view. He’s not sure why. He knows you don’t mean to make him uncomfortable, but he still gets that unpleasant reaction in his abdomen. So you don’t, saving your love-filled chomps for the privacy of your shared home.
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Simon Riley
Simon teases you for it (but still finds it adorable). And like all expressions of your love for each other, it is never in public. Might not even want his teammates to know about or see it, though he’ll feel more comfortable with you and them together over time
I beg you to chew on this man. Shove your head under his hoodie and chew on his abdomen and chest. Push aside his shirt collar and pretend to be a vampire. When you wake up from your nap on the couch to him putting his legs on you, get his fucking calves. 
“No one’s gonna see it, Simon. You dress like a fucking nun.” You kissed the bite on his bicep better. “If anyone sees my teeth marks, it means you’re cheating.”
“Johnny does have pretty eyes,” he teased. Then yelped when you tried to nip his nose.
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Kyle Garrick
Oh boy, oh boy is Kyle a giggling mess when you start biting at him. The hilarity of your mouth wide open as you try to catch his arm. Your happy shout muffled by his skin as you gently pressed your teeth into him.
Bothering him while he’s watching his show, chewing on the slight squish of his cheek like a cow on grass. Biting his hand and fingers when he tries to snag your food. If you nip a little too hard, you immediately kiss and rub it better. Apologizing. Sometimes he yelps just to laugh at your change in demeanor.
After a few weeks of your shenanigans, he decided to fight fire with fire. You absentmindedly handed him some piece of food to try, and instead of taking it with his own hand, his teeth nipped your fingers.
You yelped at the novel feeling. Then pinched his nose with your free hand. He chased after your hands with an open mouth, both of you laughing as he fell on you and gave back to you every single nip and chew you’ve given him over the past few weeks.
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Johnny MacTavish
Discovered: New aspect of physical affection - Biting… press [J] to open journal.
The two of you will lay on the couch or in bed, lazing about on the few days off you share. And your mouth will be attached to the meat of his arm while he looks for something to watch. Once one has been selected, Johnny scratches your back and talks through the whole show.
When your handsome man gets out of the shower, and you tell him that he smells nice and “cute enough to eat”. Give him a little chomp on the chest or back.
When he’s walking around the home shirtless, showing off his physique, bide your time. When he least expects it, get those nips of his. Unfortunately, he will return the favor when you least expect it, but if you are gentle with his, he’ll be gentle to yours.
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Enjoy reading this? Here's a link to my other works! Thanks for reading :-)
Posted: 2024 February 7
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hotvintagepoll · 2 months
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Propaganda
Harry Belafonte (Carmen Jones, Island in the Sun)—one of my favorite things in the world when I'm sad is kicking back and listening to him and Danny Kaye singing "Hava Nagila" together. Or who can forget this man singing the Banana Boat song with the Muppets?? immensely talented, a powerful fighter for civil rights and humanitarian causes his whole life, if you have any remaining doubts PLEASE look at the following pics [clips and pics attached below]
Buster Keaton (The General, The Navigator, Sherlock Jr.)—For me Buster’s hotness comes not just from his physical beauty but in the constant surprise and contradictions of the man, he’s simultaneously delicate/rough, feminine/masculine, confident/vulnerable, 5foot5 pretty face with an unexpectedly deep voice, at first glance you think oh he’s a cute little thing and then he takes his top off and it’s Superman abs underneath. He was intensely shy in social situations but had no hesitation in jumping off the top of a building. He famously never smiled on screen* but he exudes warmth and joy and laughter. He created some of the most beautiful, intelligent movies ever made but refused to acknowledge his own genius and talent as an artist, instead maintaining that all he wanted to do was make people laugh. If he was here in reality competing in this poll he would give it 100% but he would not be at all bothered if he didn’t win. And that’s why he’s the hottest vintage man. A vote for Buster is a vote for all that is good and decent in the world 💕 (*he did smile on camera occasionally despite his own assertions to the contrary 😄)
This is round 4 of the bracket. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage man.
[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]
Buster Keaton propaganda:
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"Just look at his freaking face...."
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This entire Tumblr page was submitted
This post
This video
"And for those who have never heard it, here’s his lovely voice in action: link"
Submitted: Link to Buster Keaton car stunts
Submitted: BK fancam
Submitted: quotes about BK video compilation
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"Ripped body, gorgeous unique face, beautiful personality too"
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youtube
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Harry Belafonte propaganda:
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youtube
"Now let me say this about the songs of the Caribbean - almost all black music is deeply rooted in metaphor. The only way that we could speak to the pain and anguish of our experiences was often through how we codified our stories in the songs that we sang. And when I sing the 'Banana Boat Song,' the song is a work song. It's about men who sweat all day long, and they are underpaid, and they're begging the tallyman to come and give them an honest count - counting the bananas that I've picked, so I can be paid. And sometimes, when they couldn't get money, they'll give them a drink of rum. There's a lyric in the song that says, 'Work all night on a drink of rum.' People sing and delight and dance and love it, but they don't really understand unless they study the song that they're singing a work song, a song of rebellion." -Harry Belafonte
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prettyboykatsuki · 7 months
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oliver talking his partner through it and calling him d**** god your brain is so huge my stomach hurts thinking about this. he’ll never tell you he loves you to your face and tries to fuck you more like he hates you because he doesn’t want to get too attached but as you’re getting close he’s all in your face and your neck, teasing you, biting your ear and softly begging you to tell him how you feel, how it’ll be better for him if you tell d**** just how close you are and how much you need him. takes you over the crest so sweetly, and continues rolling into you, chasing his own. his kisses are nonstop and so overwhelming, and he knows they are but he just really needs to connect with you like this. never the first to say “i love you” but unfortunately (in his opinion) he expresses it in so many other ways. sorry.
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but i crumble completely when you cry | a. oliver
✮ tags ; DADDY KINK, afab + fem!reader, situationship!oliver, hooking up, unresolved romantic tension, p in v, praise, soft sex, it gets emotionally strange, riding, creampies, unprotected sex, under-negotiated kink in a sense though oliver is very careful
✮ wc ; 2.2k (i dont want to talk about it)
✮ a/n ; anon im going to haunt your dreams for putting this absurd image into my head when i dont even go here im crying screaming throwing up ive been thinking about it for hours. hours of my life wasted on this guys dick. upsetting!!!!!
also i do not write this often and do not plan too again any time soon so if ur seeing this and thinking about following me for content like it i would not recommend!!!
✮ synopsis ; you don't trust oliver with your heart or your feelings. nor do you expect anything from him.
but it's hard not to lean into him when he decides to cradle you so gently.
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Your relationship with Oliver is both very ambiguous and very clear.
There's a line drawn, and you both steer clear of crossing it in your interactions. Oliver is fun. He's attractive and charming, a massive flirt but just genuine enough to be interesting.
It helps that he's hot. Physically, he's got an unreal build.
He's an athlete, so he's big. Wide chest and strong arms, thick thighs and the height to top it off. He's 6'3, and he's sexy (and his dick is huge) - and you sleep with him because of that. You don't date him explicitly because he's a womanizer. If you'd met when you were a little younger, a little more naive - you might've tried to dog-train him into being your boyfriend.
Because on top of the immaculate dick, he's fun to be around. He's funny, he drinks well, he's not a scumbag in the ways that turn you off.
You're old enough to know better. You have a career. You're too busy, and too jaded about love to try and fix whatever weird shit he has going on. So even if the two of you harbor some sort of emotional or romantic feelings for each other, you're smart enough to not get invested in those feelings and smart enough to have no expectations.
Oliver is your fun. He's your sneaky link, your weekend off. You come to him to blow off steam. You have rough, fast sex and it's good. Sometimes you chill afterwards, and you'll indulge each other in some physical affection but other times you take your shower and leave. It's a good time, and you know well enough not to ever ask him for any of your emotional needs. You have your therapist and girl friends for that.
Normally, when you're having a rough week - it's prime time to go to him. He'll fuck you a little harder than usual, and sometimes he's nice enough to kiss it better. But it's still, very distinctly, never crossing that boundary.
But some weeks, like this week - shit is bad. Not just stressful bad, but everything in the fucking world that could go wrong, is going wrong bad. It's not the kind of thing you can get over by compartmentalizing and even when you try to do your usual thing it doesn't really work.
You're trying right now - to get over the fucked up week you had. And you're turned on, but somehow - it's still not enough to get you completely out of it.
Oliver pauses mid stroke, in missionary - hetero-chromatic eyes staring you down as your thoughts are somewhere else completely. You don't notice the first time he stops, or the first time he calls you.
And he only gets your attention by cupping your face and making you look at him. You startle as you cast your glance his way.
"What's with you?" He asks, though he's not pissed or anything "Not feelin' it? Want me to stop?"
"No, you don't have too."
"Not what I asked," He chastises, letting go of your face "Not having your full attention is making me go soft,"
This makes you laugh, and Oliver cracks a smile seeing the tension melt off your face if only slightly.
"I'm cool with stopping." He assures. You let your hand reach up to his shoulder.
"It's not like I want to stop, necessarily? Like I wanna do something to get my mind off it and sex feels like the best option, but you know how it goes sometimes," You say, trying your best to avoid the emotional baggage of your words "We can stop though. I'll pay you for your wasted time," You tack the joke on at the end to ease the tension.
You're expecting him to pull out and stop, or maybe challenge himself into fucking you so good that you forget. Something more quintessentially Oliver than what he does do.
He gives you a blank look first, than a laugh that is a touch too sincere for you to be comfortable "That bad of a week?"
You're suddenly in dangerous territory. Somehow, this strange intimacy makes all the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You swallow thickly, the emotions coming over you so quick you end up looking away.
"Yeah. You know. It's fine, but you know."
"Mm," He says. He leans into your space. His breath is warm and his stubble tickles your skin as he whispers in your ear. You feel your breath hitch. And the air feels heavy "Wanna try somethin' else?"
"Like what?"
"A surprise," He says first, and find your stomach tightening. A hollowness in your nerves "Gotta trust me."
"You're scaring me." You joke.
"I'm a sex expert, you know?" Oliver says, humming against your skin "If I can't remedy your little problem with my dick, it's bad for my street cred. My yelp reviews will tank."
"You're such a dumbass."
"Do you trust me?"
You don't know how to answer. Yes, for the most part. Not with everything, but with your pleasure at least. Whatever this is, it doesn't feel the same. But you say yes, anyways. Oliver kisses your jaw in reply, then he pulls out.
He flips position easily. He ends up on his back, then he grabs you to rest on top of him. You're not sure what you're expecting. He holds you by your hips as your sex hovers over his cock. His thumb is rubbing circles into your skin as he sinks you down slowly onto him.
You only stare at him, mouth opening as you feel him stretch you open for a second time.
You're more aware of it this way. He's so thick, and so intrusive - and normally, you're feeling that in hard strokes. Fast and rough, like something knocking into your cervix. But like this, he's hitting a deep angle. You can feel every curve, every inch, as you come down slowly.
He keeps you there. For longer than you'd expect. Just keeps you, settles you, holds you gently. You stare at him as he grabs your hand, locking your fingers. Your first instinct is to panic, or crack a joke - but there's an intense look in his eye that shuts you up.
Uncharacteristically gentle, you find yourself frightened. Oliver's hands reach for you again. They hold your waist and slide up the planes of your body. He holds your tits in his palms and squeezes.
He does this a lot, but there's not usually this much touching. This much foreplay. It's grabby, a deeper pressure. He doesn't...feel you, in the way he is now. You stare at him, and he looks back at you so fondly you feel a strange urge to pretend it never happened.
"Play with your clit," He says, though there's no urgency in his voice.
Deep and smooth, the timbre in it has you shaking. You listen, on auto-pilot as you play with yourself clumsily and build a slow pressure. He just watches.
"C'mere, baby. And don't stop touching yourself."
Another pause. It's not the first time he's called you that. He likes to call you all sorts of things when you're fucking, and baby is one of the few. But not like that. Not like this. He gives you a lazy, self satisfied smile and encourages you by placing a hand on where he can reach on your low back.
You lean down, and Oliver tucks you into his chest. He's warm, and strong - and smells so good, like musk and cologne. Your free hand is on his chest, as he grips your hips and fucks up into you.
"That's it," His voice is pleasant to your ears. It feels funny to you "Just gotta listen to me."
He starts fucking you slowly. It's a familiar feeling, a pleasant stretch that dulls into a euphoric fullness. But it's never been this slow before. Each thrust is slow, and punctual, and so deep you feel yourself gasping. It's not enough to push you over the edge, but it's enough to make your mind feel a little numb.
You think he's going to keep at you like this, maybe edge you to take you out of it. But he doesn't. He keeps his pace.
"Had a hard time this week, didn't you, tough girl?" He mumbles, so low it doesn't feel real. You feel your heart start to race. You feel your throat start to close around something, choking "Did a good job and came to me. Gonna let me take care of it?"
You stumble. You aren't sure what to say, you nod and hope he feels it. He laughs a little. You can't be sure if you're fucking Oliver or not.
You know it's him but he's never been like this. Not once. Not ever.
"Gonna let daddy take care of you?" He says, though it's tentative. Your breath hitches. Something strange overwhelms your senses "Tell me, baby."
"Uhm," Your first reaction is a sense of resistance, an immediate pull away. Not that you hate it but you aren't sure how to adjust. You squirm, but you don't tell him no. You feel like you can't in this state "Uh-uh,"
He keeps surprising you, pressing his lips to yours where you hover over him, tender as he ups the pace of his thrusts.
"That's what I like to hear," He almost sounds proud "You'll hurt your head if you think too much. And I'd be a bad daddy, letting that happen, yeah?"
A vulnerable, foreign sensation drives you to speak "You're not bad in that way."
He laughs "Just in other ways, right?"
You giggle "Uh-huh."
"But not in this one," He repeats, very carefully. He fucks into you harder now, pays extra special attention to you. It's all for you, is what he's saying in a language completely foreign yet somehow so known. One only the two of you will ever know fully, confined in the four walls of this room "Daddy is good at taking care of you like this, so you should let him do just that. Tough girls always need their daddies, hm?"
It's what ends up tipping you up over the edge. You cling to him, succumbing to whatever weird space the two of you have fallen into you. Suspended in this odd sense of comfort that Oliver has thrust you in unannounced.
You don't trust Oliver with a lot, and this is more than what you should ever find yourself giving. In the back of your head you think you should pull away.
But he's comforting. It feels good, and strangely feels safe - and even for all the ways he's awful, you trust he'd never do anything bad to you. Even if it's a blip in the timeline, for now it's what you need. A blurry cross into your emotional needs that translate into your physical ones. Too much and so overwhelming, you hug closer to him and take a deep breath.
"Mm," You let yourself lean into him. Just this once, you promise yourself. "I wanna cum."
"Want it a little harder?"
"Mhm,"
"Then Daddy will give it to you a little harder, yeah? Anything for you." He says, and you try not to think to deeply on what that really means. Because even in this state you know it's not nothing, but you should never pry "Daddy can give you anything you want."
"Yeah?"
He chuckles a little as he fucks into you hard. Fucks into you how you need. You're wet enough, and wondering if you were always so into being doted on. Or if it's just the fact that it's Oliver. Another thing you decide to overlook as you zero in on the sensation of being pistoned from underneath. You're soaking. The room noisy with the sticky noise of Olivers cock penetrating you over and over, skin hitting skin as his hips press against your ass. His grip is bruising but not intentionally, his chest huffed in pleasure.
He's just as close as you are, you know all of his cues. You play with your clit faster, sensitive bud throbbing hard as all the blood rushes south. Your mouth has fallen open as the slow, thick desire coiling and culminating into something cosmic. Something big and heavy, but not too fast. Not a crash landing like you're used to.
But a single weight, the force of a star dropping to Earth. You figure Oliver is the gravity in your universe, holding you down so you don't float too far. You want to cling onto him for much longer.
And somehow, you're inclined to think he would let you.
"Oliver," You say his name as it builds, then decide on something else "Daddy,"
"I'm here, baby," He says back, like it's all he has to say for everything to make sense when nothing about this does "I'm right here. Let go."
So you do. You cum hard, and it comes in long never ending waves. Too much. It makes you collapse in Olivers arms, both arms coming around his neck as he continues to fuck you through the aftermath.
"Gonna," He voices, rasping as his thrusts become sloppy "Shit. Cumming, shit."
He cums with you, cums deep inside like usual and you mewl at the feeling of being filled with hot, sticky seed.
When it's over, you're almost afraid to look at him. When the tensions settled, and his chest goes back to it's steady breaths - you wonder whats going to happen next.
"Wanna stay like this for a while?"
You nod.
"Mm. Sleepy."
"Stay like this, then. I'll wake you in a little."
"So you can kick me out?" You joke, trying to pretend nothing is different. He pauses.
"Just to shower," He whispers, hand resting on your lower back "Sleep."
There's too much to think about. Tomorrow will be strange. You let yourself succumb to your own exhaustion.
"Okay."
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