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#but I haven’t listened to it since I was like 15
wewontbesleeping · 1 year
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booked plane tickets to Seattle and my first thought was Hello Seattle by Owl City, who I was obsessed with for a very short period of time around 2008, and it’s just. Amazing what things stick around in that noggin
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quenxi · 2 months
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realized i have free will and put on a pierce the veil album
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iconoplastic · 1 year
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Been dealing with some annoying shit this past week but I’ve still been decently productive and next week I’m going to see live music for the first time since before covid started
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Making the switch over to Spotify (thanks to my friend who got me a premium subscription as a Christmas present <3) and so I’m going through all my old music and feeling nostalgic
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rhaenella · 6 months
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CL16 | Is It Over Now? | pt.4
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pairing: charles leclerc x singer!reader
genre: social media au
summary: you and charles have been everyone's fave couple on the grid, but when you somewhat unexpectedly break up, you turn to songwriting to cope with the pain
face claim: léon
a/n: all songs mentioned are by léon and some of taylor’s from the vault. also a massive thank you to my part time french teacher @xeresmalfoy for helping out and checking my grammar ❤️
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part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7
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Liked by taylorswift, selenagomez and 1,131,489 others
y/n: Your reaction to Is It Over Now? has been nothing short of incredible. I feel your love 🤍 And that’s why I decided to give some of that love back to you. Besides my new music video, we’ve been secretly rehearsing for a special little something… 
It’s been a busy couple of weeks but I’m very excited to announce that I will be playing three small, intimate “one night only” shows in London (7/11), Paris (7/12) and New York City (7/15) next week. I can’t wait to see some of you there, let’s make it a good one x
🔗 Link to tickets in my bio!
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sophiet: Yasss girl🔥see ya next week😘
Liked by y/n
landonorris: Surely friends will get a discount, no?
y/n: Hmm… we’ll see
yourmanager: No.
user7: i can’t waittttt!!!!!! see you in new york 😍❤️
user8: y/n really said i’m gonna use my pain and turn it into a creative outlet and i think that’s so beautiful and inspiring ♥️
user9: I CANT BELIEVE I MANAGED TO GET TICKETS
user10: omggg you’re so lucky they sold out so fast
user11: yeah i was too late :(((
user10: hopefully y/n will do a bigger tour🤞🤞
y/n: Sooooonnnnn 🤫
user10: OMFG
3 July
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Liked by user23, user29 and 43,119 others
wagsf1update: Pierre, Kika, Charles and Maddy attend day eight of Wimbledon!
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user23: charles and pierre look so gooddd 😍😍😍
user24: clone is cloning
user25: the way charles was only really talking to pierre during the game
user26: maddy and charles look so happy and in love in those pictures……. NOT
user27: so far i haven’t seen either of them smile in each other’s presence 
10 July
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y/n’s story
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Seen by alex_albon, kellypiquet and 3,979,114 others
11 July
landonorris’ story
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Seen by y/n, danielricciardo and 3,788,531 others
11 July
danielricciardo’s story
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Seen by landonorris, alex_albon and 3,244,091 others
11 July
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landonorris’ story
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Seen by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55 and 3,743,160 others
11 July
danielricciardo’s story
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11 July
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alex_albon: Our professional opinion: this new up an coming artist was not too bad 🧐 (and fun fact: her post-concert cravings are REAL)
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y/n: Omg Alex…
y/n: DID YOU HAVE TO POST THAT PICTURE
alex_albon: Yes
danielricciardo: Starving performer devours a burger 🍔 by alex.jpg
lilymhe: I told alex not to do it but he never listens to me
alex_albon: I can’t help that’s what she looks like when she eats
carlossainz55: This is true, I’ve witnessed this myself
y/n: I hate all of you
maxverstappen1: But secretly you still love us
y/n: Careful champ, there’s a fine line between love and hate
landonorris: Go on, please hate them so I will get all the love since I’m the only one here taking the banger pics
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12 July
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y/n: London was an absolute dream. Thank you for an unforgettable night❣️à demain Paris 🇫🇷
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user18: absolute dream? ABSOLUTE FIRE ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥
user19: BEST. NIGHT. EVER.
user20: it was emotional but oh so fucking powerful
user21: say don’t go is my new favorite song, i love it so much 😭❤️
Liked by y/n
user21: you were spectacular!!!!! please come back soon 
user22: j'ai hâte de vous voir demain, j'attends de vous voir en live depuis des années!!🙊💕 
Liked by y/n
12 July
It was late. Way past midnight. Maddy had already gone to bed a few hours ago. But Charles was still up, slouched on the couch in his five-star suite, a frown edged deep into his forehead.
He silently scrolled through his social media, switching from Twitter to Instagram to Twitter and back to Instagram again. You'd just posted new photos of your show in London tonight, looking as beautiful as ever.
The stage was where Charles knew you felt most comfortable, somewhere you weren’t scared to open up your heart and be vulnerable. The atmosphere you were able to create during your concerts couldn’t be put into words. It was truly something one of a kind. The way you effortlessly connected with the audience… it always left him speechless and usually with a wide, beaming smile.
In other words, he would never tire of watching you perform.
Charles had always been proud of you. And still, as he sat there reading through the thousands of posts by your fans and even some by his colleagues, he couldn’t help but feel that same sense of pride swell inside of him. 
Though, that pride was mostly overshadowed by a feeling of intense guilt. Guilt that kept nagging at him ever since the moment you’d packed your bags and left his apartment with tears running down your cheeks. His heart clenched painfully as Charles thought back to that particular day. It was his fault. All of it. He had been stupid. No, beyond stupid. It had started out as a drunken mistake. But you can’t make a drunken mistake twice, let alone thrice. 
When you’d found out and had confronted Charles, he hadn’t denied it. And in that moment, he’d witnessed that last bit of hope you’d stubbornly clung to, shatter before his eyes. Along with your heart and your trust. 
As the reality of the situation had slowly dawned on him, he’d gone completely numb. Charles had wanted to fight for you harder, but he hadn’t. If he had, his current situation could’ve possibly been entirely different. Your new song—which he had already listened to three times—made that perfectly clear.
But he had decided on another path. A decision that resulted from losing the love of his life by his own hand. Did it make any sense? To choose to stay with the girl he’d betrayed you with? In his loneliness it had made some weird type of sense. Because if there was one thing Charles couldn’t handle well, it was being alone. And boy, he’d never felt more alone than when you’d closed that door behind you, making him believe there was no longer hope for a future together.
Now, all he wanted was to focus on moving on and stick to his decision to be with Maddy. Was he in denial about his true feelings and the pain he tried to bury deep inside of himself? Perhaps. Probably.
Charles was still mindlessly scrolling when Maddy emerged from the bedroom, leaning against the wall studiously. He hadn’t even heard her until she cleared her throat, speaking to him softly but with a tinge of annoyance. 
“Charles, are you finally coming to bed?”
“Ouais, je serai là dans une minute,” he answered absentmindedly.
Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute.
She rolled her eyes. “How often do I have to tell you: speak English. I’ve no clue what you’re saying.”
“Mhm, désolé…” 
Charles paused, quickly looking up as he realised his mistake. 
“Seriously,” Maddy scoffed.
He winced at her irritated look. There was no denying Maddy had a temper, her moods changing as quick as lightning. The countless fights Charles and her had had in the past few months were enough proof of that.
“Sorry,” he tried again.
She huffed, stomping away in the direction of the suite’s bedroom, harshly closing the door behind her.
He rubbed his temple, sighing. He was just tired. And speaking in his native tongue when he was tired or upset was something he did without thinking. 
Years ago, you’d quickly figured that out as well. However, you never judged him for it. No, you were understanding, trying to acquaint yourself with his language to understand him better. To be there for him. In the end, you knew him so well that you could almost always accurately read him, the language barrier between you no longer an issue. Not that it had ever been one in the first place.
He thought back to one of the tweets he’d read before Maddy had come barging in. 
‘Charles made the biggest mistake of his life. I hope he realizes it.’
He squeezed his eyes shut, letting his head lull back against the couch’s headrest. And just like he’d done ever since that fateful day, he willed all of his doubts, guilt, and pain into a neat little box, unable to face them. Charles sighed again, pushing himself to his feet, wearily following in Maddy’s footsteps towards their shared bedroom. But as his hand hovered over the door handle, one single truth echoed through him, unwavering.
Oui, he thought. Je le comprends. 
Yes. I do realize it.
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Tags: @sukisheadlights @eviethetheatrefreak @blueflorals @kiskso @dessxoxsworld @treehouse-mouse @dangeroustacoalienbiscuit @clown-fc @stopeatread @vanishingcherry @bb-swift @leclercdream @scenesofobx
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nereidprinc3ss · 3 months
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hii i love love how u write spencer omds🥸
uhh i was wondering if you could write sth based off the song “we’ll never have sex” by leith ross? pls dont feel pressured to write this btw😭😭😭 hope ur having a good day lovely💗💗
hello my love i have no self control so this is extremely long and plotty but i love this song and i hope that this is any good at all crying emoji (i'm on a laptop LOL) enjoy!!
warnings/tags: angst/fluff, fem!reader, negative self-talk from reader, mentions of past sexual coercion/feeling used, mentions of past excessive drinking to combat social anxiety, ive been watching a lot of new girl lately and i think it shows, SO FRIENDS TO LOVERS, happy ending
You weren’t expecting to end up on Spencer Reid’s worn-leather couch at two in the morning, clutching a chipped mug of coffee in your hands as you listen to the sounds of the city from the street below. But there you are, sitting with your legs folded under you, in your favorite dress and first date-night makeup (now bleeding and smudged from all the crying.) And realizing that despite considering him one of your closest friends, you haven’t been to his apartment in a long time. There are, of course, good reasons for that—but you try to push those from your mind. 
“I’m really sorry about this,” you sigh, staring at your warped reflection in the glassy black surface of your coffee. Spencer is coming out of the small kitchen, now bearing his own cup. 
“Please, stop apologizing.” 
You glance up, tentatively studying him from behind the safety of your mug. While he may not have been asleep when you knocked on his door ten minutes ago, lachrymose and barely verbal, he must have been getting ready for bed. He’s clad in patterned pajama pants, mismatched socks, and an FBI crewneck that is just big enough to reveal the collar of the tee-shirt underneath. He’s already taken out his contacts, and you were startled by the reminder that he also has glasses. 
“So...” he begins, bringing you back to the present moment, “we don't have to talk about anything, if you don’t want to, but...” 
You sigh, watching coffee bubbles swirl like stars in a galaxy. 
“It’s fine. Honestly, I’m kind of embarrassed. I didn’t really think, I just... ended up here.” 
“Yeah... where did you come from?” he laughs quietly. “Not that I’m complaining. But I recall you not living super close by.” 
“No, no. I was actually on a date. Kind of.” 
“Ah.” There’s a beat of silence, and ostensibly Spencer is waiting for you to say more, but instead you take a sip from your mug. “At two in the morning?” You nod dully, staring at the labyrinthine pattern of the Persian rug.  
“I’m taking it that it wasn’t a very good date...?” 
A whoosh of air escapes from your puffed cheeks. 
“No it was not. Not by the end, anyway. It actually started really well, which made it even more disappointing when he...” you laugh, but there’s not much humor in it. “Well, when he kicked me out of his car on a street corner because I didn’t want to sleep with him.” 
You don’t look to see Spencer’s reaction—only take another long, baleful sip of coffee and ignore the heavy silence.  
“I’m really sorry. You... you deserve so much better than that.” 
An attempt at a jaded scoff from you falls flat. 
“Yeah, well. Tell that to the last three white house interns I’ve gone on dates with. It’s the same thing every time.” 
“Have you considered going on fewer dates with white house interns...?” The nervous humor is a thin veil over genuine critique. You shrug, biting the inside of your cheek. 
“It’s not just them. Every single guy I’ve liked since I was 15 has been like this. Even my past relationships, I felt like I was almost... tricked into, you know? I mean, these guys, they act all understanding and willing to take it slow or whatever, until you’re in a relationship, and suddenly they’re guilt tripping you so hard and making you feel so obligated to...” you catch yourself just in time, glancing up at Spencer. You’re not sure what to make of his expression. The drawn brow and slightly squinted eyes trained so intently on you could be sympathy, or anger, or pity, or apathy—you look away, not sure you even want to know what he’s thinking. “Sorry. You don’t need to hear all about that. Basically romance is exhausting and since I’ll clearly be single forever I’m considering running away to join a nunnery.” 
When he doesn’t respond for too long, you look back up quizically. 
“I’m not sure you know what romance actually is,” he says as soon as your gaze meets his, like the eye-contact activated some kind of hair-trigger in his vocal box. 
You blink, lowering the coffee cup to your lap. 
Says Spencer Reid? 
“...sorry?” 
He flushes, stammering to clarify himself. 
“I just meant—I—I know I’m not exactly fighting women off with a stick—” he interrupts himself with a self-conscious (adorable) laugh— “but... but I have been in love, at least once.”  
“Maeve,” you say, gently—trying to shove down bitter guilt as you remember how jealous you’d been when Spencer had first told you about her. “I remember.” 
He swallows and nods. 
“We never even met—we just talked. All the time. I had no idea what she looked like. But it didn’t matter at all. Because I knew her, and I loved her. Maybe things would have gone further if I hadn’t been calling her from public phone booths, but that wasn’t the most important thing to either of us. We were still in love.” You try to shut out the sharp ache in your chest. Being jealous of the way he speaks about a dead woman is so wrong.  
“What I’m trying to say is that romance isn’t solely about sex, or even physical appearance. It sounds to me like you’ve been with a lot of men who don’t understand that. And it would be such a shame for you to write romance off in general before you even get to experience it. You are... an extraordinary woman. You’re funny, and intelligent, and kind, and so capable of being loved. One day, someone is going to see beyond your pulchritude and prove that to you. I hope you let them try.” 
More tears blur the pattern on the rug, pooling in the rims of your eyes before spilling down your cheeks in fast, fat drops. Shakily you set the cup down, resting your elbows on your knees and hiding your face in your hands. You sniff once. Twice. Shake your head quickly, attempting to wipe the tears away without further smearing your makeup everywhere. 
“Shit, I’m sorry,” Spencer breathes, leaning forward but obviously unsure how to comfort you. “Please don’t cry, I wasn’t--I was trying to do the opposite of this.” 
“No, I’m sorry! You didn’t have to—you didn’t—I’m sorry. That was way too nice.” 
But you're not crying because he was nice.  
Someone will love you, but not me. That’s all you can hear. 
His voice is a mere whisper when he next speaks. 
“I meant every word.” 
You take a shuddering breath, allowing yourself a moment of reprieve behind the peaceful black of your eyelids. You can’t be looking at his face when you say what you’re about to say. 
“I had a crush on you for the longest time, you know.” 
Ringing silence. But it doesn’t last as long as you’d imagined. It’s not as world ending. 
“Had?” 
The little smile in his voice is like a fist around your heart. 
“Yeah. You know what changed?” 
“What’s that?” 
Absolutely nothing. 
“Every time I got super drunk and started hitting on you, you’d just drive me home. And I did it a lot. Like, for months. But you were such a gentleman. It drove me fucking crazy. So eventually I figured you just didn’t like me and I gave up.” 
Another stretch of silence. A breeze comes in from the open window, fluttering the curtains and cooling the tears on your face. His response is sad when it finally comes. 
“You thought I didn’t like you because I didn’t try to take advantage of you when you were drunk?” 
“Pretty much.” You smile ruefully, fingertips still pressed over your eyes. “God, listen to me. No wonder I get treated like garbage.” 
“Stop. Don’t talk about yourself like that. Did you hear anything I just said?” 
You sniff, looking to the ceiling. 
“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. It was really sweet.” 
More silence. 
“But you don’t believe it.” 
A bitter laugh poisons the air around you. 
“I don’t know.  I’m kind of tired of waiting for someone to prove it to me. Just for once, I want someone to be interested in me beyond having sex in the back of their fucking... Range Rover, or whatever. Like, maybe all that stuff you said is true, but there’s no evidence to support it, and I know logically you’re probably right but I can’t help wondering if... if I’m the outlier. Maybe there just isn’t someone for me like that. Maybe I’m just gonna be the sex in the back of the Range Rover girl forever.” 
A noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob forces itself from your throat and you bury your face in your hands again, shaking your head. 
“Wow, I am so sorry,” you say a little too loudly, “I did not mean to be this honest tonight. Did you spike my coffee?” 
“You are not the outlier,” Spencer whispers.  
You sniff, lifting your head haltingly to look at him. 
“What?” 
His voice shakes slightly as he speaks. 
“You said you can’t help wondering if you’re the outlier, and maybe there just isn’t someone for you like that. That’s not true.” 
“Spencer, those are just words. You can’t possibly know that. Statistical probabilities don’t count.” 
“That’s... that’s not how I know.” 
Your heart drops as you study his face.  
No. 
Surely he’s not saying what you think he’s saying. 
Surely he wouldn’t do this to you after you’ve just told him everything you told him. You have been harboring feelings for him for years. Since you met. He can’t just spring this on you one night because you’re a little bummed out. If he felt the same, you would have found out a long time ago; he had ample opportunity to tell you. There was a period of months where you practically threw yourself all over him at every chance you got, and he did nothing. So this... this is just cruel—something you’ve never known Spencer Reid to be. 
You stand up, trembling slightly with rage and grief and humiliation. 
“Don’t do that. Don’t say things that you don’t mean just to make me feel better.” 
“What are you doing? Don’t--” 
You scoop up your purse, trying to get to the front door as fast as your gelatinous legs will allow. More tears are streaming down your face now and you don’t need him to see what he’s done to you—to see how much you care what he thinks. 
“It’s fine. Thanks for the coffee, I’ll see you around—” 
A hand around your wrist stops you in your tracks 
“Stop. Just... please give me a second to talk, okay?” 
With nothing left to give, you turn to him. 
“Don’t be mean, Spencer. Don’t act like you liked me too. That makes me feel... so much worse.” 
He takes a deep, shaky breath, as if steeling himself. Tawny eyes bore into your soul, and you realize that there is so much sheer nervous energy radiating off of him it’s infectious. Your heart begins to pound as he speaks. 
“I’m not doing that. I’m being an idiot, because you just told me that you don’t feel that way about me anymore but... but I do. And I have to tell you now because for six months I tortured myself wondering why you would flirt with me so much when you were hammered and then act like nothing happened the next day. There were so many times I almost told you how I felt but I didn’t and now I am because even if it ruins our friendship you need to know that somebody... that I wanted to be that person for you. I still do.” 
Your heart is like an unmoored zeppelin in your chest, bumping against your esophagus and threatening to either burst or jump out of your mouth. You take your chances, whispering so quietly it’s almost inaudible. 
“You... you like me?” 
“Yes,” Spencer sighs. “I have liked you for a very long time. And I’m sorry—” 
Whatever ridiculous thing he was going to apologize for, you don’t give him the chance. Instead you launch yourself at him, capturing his lips in a kiss that feels so much better than it’d ever been in your fantasies because it’s real. You hear his sharp intake of breath, but it only takes a second for him to respond, cradling your face in his hands like you’re the entire world. For a moment, time bends. Years of longing, of buried dreams crash into the present in a brilliant, dazzling explosion.
And then, as quickly as it started, he pulls away. The absence of his touch is like a vacuum, so much worse now that you know exactly how it feels to have his lips on yours, even if it was only for a few seconds. How the hell did you live like that for so long? How are you supposed to live like that ever again?
“You’re not thinking clearly,” he breathes, tilting his head back toward the ceiling like he’s barely holding onto his self control. “You just want someone to comfort you, I’m not going to take advantage of you when you’re in an emotionally vulnerable state and confided in me which is manufacturing a false sense of attachment—” 
You grab his wrists, which still graze your jaw.
“Spencer, stop intellectualizing for thirty seconds. I promise you I am thinking clearly.” 
“You said you used to like me, past tense—” 
“Yeah, I did. Do you believe every single murderer who says he didn’t do it?” 
“No, but—” 
“Have you ever heard the phrase; a drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts?” 
“Of course I have.” 
“Then what more could you possibly need to be convinced that I really like you? I already kissed you! What is stopping you?” 
Another deep breath is taken by him that seems to suck all the air out of the quiet room. Briefly, you wonder if you’ve made a terrible, terrible mistake. If you really do like him so much more than he could ever like you.  
Until he looks back down, eyes so golden-brown in the dim light, so kind and full of affectionate concern as he carefully assesses every square centimeter of your face, looking for... well, you’re not exactly sure what. It’s like he’s extracting every thought from your head, turning them over like sun-warmed stones until he finds what he’s looking for. He smooths his hands over your hair, brushing strands away from your teary face. Finally, after what feels like an eternity of holding your breath, he speaks. 
“I just want you to believe what I believe about you. But I don’t want you to have to rely on me or anyone else for your own self-worth.” 
“Well, don’t you think very highly of yourself,” you tease with a sniffle. He laughs—it's quiet, but his smile is so bright without even trying that suddenly you can’t remember why you’ve ever been sad. The small miracle of his laughter makes you feel so light, and you realize it has nothing to do with the way he makes you feel about yourself. It has everything to do with who he is. 
Once the giggles die down, you tentatively mirror his hold on your face. 
“Spencer, I don’t like you because you like me. I’ve liked you for an embarrassingly long time. I liked you enough that I gave myself a severe hangover at least once a week for three months just so I could have an excuse to flirt shamelessly with you.” 
A half-sad smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, and he gently swipes under your eyes. 
“You never had to do that. I would have welcomed your sober brazen flirting with open arms.” 
“Well... do you believe me?” you plead. His amber eyes shine. 
“I do.” 
“Will you kiss me?” 
“If that’s what you want.” 
You nod, rising on your toes to meet him halfway. 
When your lips meet again, it is sweet, and honest, and slow, and deep. Still, there is no desperation--no race to an imagined finish line, no clash of teeth and pawing hands. It is a kiss for the sake of it—as if it were the greatest intimacy. Not a precursor to sharing a bed, but something bigger than that in and of its own. Something just as worthy and important. For the first time, you think you’re beginning to understand romance. And while you wouldn’t mind if things did escalate, you also know that Spencer knows that’s not what matters right now. Because he actually understands you—he actually cares. He will wait until you understand that you mean so much more than that to him.
To that end, he pulls away, gently supplanting his absence with a kiss to the corner of your mouth. 
“It would be polite of me to offer you a ride home, wouldn’t it?” he whispers, like it’s the last thing he wants to do. You bite the inside of your cheek, coming up with reasons not to go. One ridiculous one arises from the depths of your memory that you know he won’t be able to say no to. 
“Or... I could stay here, and we could watch one of those nerdy foreign films you’re always talking about?” 
A slow, perfect, high-watt smile blossoms on his face, and you know you’ve said exactly the right thing. 
“Nerdy? Oh, my darling girl... Soviet-era filmography is far from nerdy. небесная машина will completely defy what you thought you knew about the life of an average Russian villager in the 1950’s.” 
“Oh, good. Because I’ve really been meaning to change the way I think about the average 1950’s Russian villager,” you smile, already closing in to kiss him again. 
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epilogue
Three hours later, you’re crying because the life of the average Russian villager in the 1950’s was so much worse than you’d previously thought. 
“It was good, right?” Spencer asks as the credits roll over a bleak snowy sepia landscape, leaning back to get a better look at you. You sit up from where you’d been leaning against him, furiously wiping your eyes. 
“It was terrible! Why didn’t you tell me that everyone except the kid dies in the end?!” 
“Because that’s the whole point of the movie!” he laughs, pulling you back into him. “I’m sorry. I probably should have explained how depressing this entire era of film was outside of the US.” 
“And also how long the movies were. I was not prepared for how many five minute long clips of empty fields there were going to be.” 
“You’re right,” he ammends, wrapping his arms around you in a way that gives you butterflies and makes you sleepy at the same time. “Next time we can watch whatever you want to watch.” 
Time passes like that—you in his arms, watching weak light slowly flood the room with half-lidded eyes and listening to the sounds of the city waking up from the street below, underscoring the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Thoughts float by like leaves on the ever-flowing current of your mind, and you’re happy to let them pass until one in particular catches your attention. 
“Spencer?” 
He hums, like he’d been deep in his own proverbial river of thought. 
“What does pulchritude mean?” 
It takes him a split second to remember the bit of conversation from earlier to which you are referring, but when he does, he chuckles, running his hand over your messy hair. 
“Don’t worry about it.” 
And so you let it float away. 
709 notes · View notes
httpsuniverse · 10 months
Text
babe [ lando norris ]
[ 𝗣𝗔𝗜𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗦 ] — lando norris x reader . ⊹ ✶ ㄔ 🫂 °.   *
[ 𝗗𝗘𝗧𝗔𝗜𝗟𝗦 & 𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦 ] — angst, some hate comments . ⊹ ✶ ㄔ ℹ️ °.   *
࣪˖ 💭 .. 𝗘𝗬𝗔’𝗦 𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘𝗦 ⌕ another one from the drafts! enjoy <3
this work is purely fictional. names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. © httpsuniverse, 2023. do not steal, repost in other platforms, translate and/or claim this work as your own.
f1wags
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16,920 likes
f1wags y/n’s ig story update today! it seems as though lando norris is officially off the market as the 2020 season comes to an end, congratulations to the happy couple! 🥳❤️
view all 1,839 comments
user what omg
user from childhood bestie to fiancée 🥹 dang when’s it my turn!!!
user i just woke up wtf !!! congratulations mum and dad landonorris yourusername
december 15, 2020
yourusername
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liked by landonorris, carlossainz55, charles_leclerc and others
yourusername how can i ever say no to that face 😟 you’re making our childhood dream come true 💘
view all 599 comments
user lando lmao 👉🏻🫦👈🏻
f1 congratulations, y/n and lando!
mclaren congratulations 🫡💒
yourbffsig omg bestie!! 😻 congrats, i love you both!!
yourusername you’re coming back home for our wedding 😤 i’m not taking no for an answer
yourbffsig as if i’m gonna say no!! 😤
december 16, 2020
landonorris
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liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, alex_albon and others
landonorris promoted from boyfriend to fiancé! you can never get rid of me now, y/n y/l/n 😜 i love you!
view all 2,842 comments
maxfewtrell remember when you told me you were determined to make her a norris?
yourusername ugh hes so obsessed w me 🙄
maxfewtrell yeah it’s annoying 🤢
landonorris i hate you both, give me back the ring yourusername i unpropose to you
yourusername 😽😽
december 16, 2020
landonorris and yourusername
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liked by danielricciardo, carlossainz55, yourbffsig and 1,392,942 others
landonorris two years ago, we exchanged our vows on valentine’s 💗 happy valentine’s and 2nd anniversary, my hot, beautiful wife. to more adventures and years to us 🥂 i love you.
view all 21,839 comments
yourusername happy anniversary to us, my love!!
landonorris i’m still obsessed with you
yourusername when are you not baby 🤭
yourbffsig ugh u two disgust me but stay in love ig
user i still can’t believe lando is really off the market for two years now 😔
yourmomsig stay in love, you two!! 🤍
user will we be expecting baby norris this year? if no, why not 😭
yourusername no plans for baby norris yet! me and lando are children ourselves 😂
— ❤️ by landonorris
user dinks, my fav dinks.
user can u adopt me instead
february 14, 2023
f1wags
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10,729 likes
f1wags we haven’t had a glimpse of y/n in the paddock the past few races, so here’s some throwback pictures with husband, lando norris! 🤍
view all 189 comments
user i miss her :(
user so i’m not going CRAZY for noticing that she hasn’t been to any races this season...
user maybe she’s pregnant or something
user nahh impossible, y/n herself said that they don’t have any plans for baby norris yet.
user right.. that could only be the plausible reason why she’s not attending races 🙄
user maybe she’s just busy with work, she has a career herself
user no bc think about it.. it’s already round 10 and we haven’t seen her since bahrain, not even during testing 💀
user well, silverstone’s up next. let’s just hope she’s there for lando’s home race
user we can just hope
july 02, 2023
f1gossip
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5,930 likes
f1gossip y/n’s now deleted ig story today. wonder what’s happening between the young couple? 🤔
view all 193 comments
user NO WHAT
user I JUST WOEK UP WHAT IS THIS DRAMA
user MAYBE ITS JUST NOTHING PLS MAYBE SHES JIST LISTENING TO MUSIC I MEAN IT’S TAYLOR !!!! WJO DOESN’T LISTEN TO TAYLOR
user ...me... i don’t listen to taylor 😬
user what rhe heck u have to listen NOW
user miss maam r u ok yourusername
user not on silverstone weekend 😭
july 07, 2023
yourusername
el nido, palawan
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liked by yourbffsig, yourmomsig and others
yourusername let the sea set you free
view all 749 comments
user miss maam we miss u around the paddock PLS COME BACK
user omg she got a tattoo 🥹 it looks so pretty
yourbffsig i hope you enjoyed your stay with me 🥺
yourusername duh, ofc!! was the most fun month of my life 💗 see you in bali ;)
yourbffsig OMG YES see you in a week, enjoy your remaining days in el nido 😽 love you and take care!!
yourmomsig my beautiful daughter, i love you whatever happens 🤍 glas you’re enjoying philippines x
yourusername aaaa love and miss you mum 🥹 be back soon <3
yoursistersig what about me 😒
yourusername stfu you’re literally coming to bali with me
yoursistersig oh yea lol
user the comments from y/n’s friends and family are scaring me (kinda)
user have u noticed that lando hasn’t commented anything or even leave a like ... i miss his obsessed hubby comments
user plus her last ig story 😓
user oh god pls dont do this to me
user are yall thinking what im thinking...?
user whatever you’re thinking, pls keep it to yourself PLS I CANNOT DO THIS.
user so... you’re m.i.a in silverstone?
july 08, 2023
landonorris
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liked by f1, oscarpiastri, mclaren, lewishamilton and 1,613,093 others
landonorris p2 and a 🏆 at my home race!!!!! ❤️ you guys are crazyyyyyyyyyy 💙
view all 9,441 comments
mclaren proud 🇬🇧🇬🇧🇬🇧
masonmount congrats brother!
maxfewtrell absolute scenes, proud brother 🧡
user no signs of y/n here ... 🤔
user ikr like where tf is she
user haven’t seen her since the beginning of this silly season
user she’s out there weeping while her husband’s winning 😹
yourusername
bali, indonesia
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liked by yourbffsig, yourmomsig, f1wags and 153,920 others
yourusername crazy how time flies when you’re being yourself; careless and free 🍃
view all 490 comments
yourbffsig love the glow these days! miss you terribly 💔
yourusername don’t be dramatic, you’ll be here in a few days 😛
yourbffsig 🙄 let me be dramatic pls
user uh excuse me maam, you have some races to attend to?
user she’s not really obligated to attend lol let her live her life.
user uh she has a husband who she needs to support? duh? besides, whose money do you think she’s spending?
user y/n earns her own money, she has her own business even before she and lando tied the knot. she has a degree for that, icydk.
user all this time i thought she was a sahw lmfao
user the username of her business is literally on her bio, in case you haven’t seen it :)
yoursistersig love how you look in the first picture 😂 wearing shades because you cried all night?
yourusername i was drunk, in my defense.
yoursistersig yeah, you’re one drunk crier 😂
yourusername quit exposing me please 🥲
user no “congrats lando!”? no “p2 baby!!”? none? ok
user no cuz i rly thought she’d at least say congrats 😐
user imagine securing a podium on ur home race and ur wife cant congratulate u lmao sad life for lando norris
user i hope you’re ignoring the hate comments and healing, y/n ❤️ your peace of mind comes first over everything
user she knew what she was getting into when she married lando, she should be tough enough to read the comments 😂
f1wags
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12,420 likes
f1wags updates on lando & y/n! seems like their fairytale love story is over which is why we haven’t seen y/n lately every race weekend!
view all 3,826 comments
user um what
user not them 💔
user omg i feel bad for y/n
user everything probably took a toll on her mental health
user i hope she’s healing and resting, also i hope she’s not pressuring herself on healing :(
user from strangers to childhood besties to lovers to strangers again :/
user damn this hit hard
user dont do this to me please.
user i knew the caption on her last post meant something 😭
2K notes · View notes
azsazz · 3 months
Text
Midnight Muse (Part 21)
Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]
Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.
Warnings: N/A
Word Count: 3,850
[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Part 16] [Part 17] [Part 18] [Part 19] [Part 20] [Masterlist]
_________________________________________
You haven’t spoken to Azriel since the morning you woke up in his bed alone.
Which, granted, has only been one day.  
You’d spent the rest of your Sunday confused, rerunning the previous night over and over and over again until your head hurt with it. You thought that you and Azriel had started anew, if the passionate sex you’d shared the night before was anything to go by. But when you woke, the sheets beside you hadn’t even been warm and the note he’d left you seemed scrawled in haste, like he’d barely had the courtesy to do so on his way out the door.
Something important came up, I’m sorry. I’ll explain later. Please don’t be mad, princess. I’m coming back to you. —Az
He’d left his number but you’d left the comfort of his bed, slipping back into your dress and collecting your things before doing the ultimate walk of shame next door. Really, it’s much worse than the last time you’d snuck out of his apartment. You’d been hungover then, caring mostly about not throwing up in the hall or waking Azriel, but by the silence of the apartment as you made your way out, there was no need for you to be quiet.
It left you only with the aching between your thighs and the mottled bruises painting your skin purple.
That night was better than a dream. You would’ve never thought that you and Azriel could work past the lingering feud you’d started the year with, and you hadn’t realized how draining your constant grudge had been. It turns out that getting over yourself and under him had been the best thing that could’ve happened for your relationship.
His touch burns your skin long after you’ve showered him off. You can still feel him between your legs, fingers dug into the meat of your thighs as he held you still for his taking. The feeling of his lips, his tongue brushing yours, everything that he’d done to you last night, clinging to your very being as if he’d tattooed himself across every inch of your skin.
Maybe you should’ve listened to his note. You could have easily stayed in his bed all day, with how comfortable it is, but as the minutes trickled by, the paranoia set in, eating at you until you’d had to flee.
Feyre hadn’t asked any questions when you slipped into her room after your shower. She’d welcomed you with open arms, a sad look in her eyes as if she knew exactly what happened. And maybe she did; maybe she heard you like you heard her, but you hadn’t cared, only snuggled up to your best friend's side as she put a movie on her laptop for the both of you to watch.
She knew you would tell her in good time.
It hadn’t stopped Azriel from blowing up your phone. He must’ve stolen your number from Rhsyand or Cassian, or perhaps he even told them what happened because message after message after message lit up your notifications, pleading for you to answer your phone like an incessant alarm.
Princess…it’s Az. Where did you go?
Do you want some waffles? There might still be some ice cream left before Cassian finishes it all, but with the spoon he’s found, it won’t last long.
Can I please explain? 
And finally: 
I can hear your phone buzzing through the wall. Please answer me.
You hadn’t replied to those, nor any of the ones that followed. You half expected him to come knocking at your door, but Feyre had noticed your poor mood and told Rhys that the two of you were having a girl’s day and not to bother either of you.
You could’ve both kissed and been upset with her for that.
You wanted that explanation from Azriel, but you also wanted him to fight for it. Let him come knocking, let him ask you in person to explain. Who finally gets the girl and leaves her to wake up alone? Especially after all of the things Azriel had admitted to you…
Monday morning is much the same. You’d successfully avoided seeing Azriel on your way to campus, and as much as you tried focusing on your drawing course, none of the shapes you were drawing turned into anything great.
You’d expected it to be bliss, to get your mind off of every little nitpicky thing you keep thinking about from that night. Feyre and Lucien’s presence helped some, but when the class quieted  down for a drawing exercise and you were left alone with your thoughts once again, they naturally drifted back to yesterday morning. Maybe you had misread Azriel’s intentions and he was only looking for a one night stand. You did make the first move, afterall. 
It was all a jumbled mess in your head that could only make sense if Azriel explained it. And now you’re once again thinking that you should have stayed…or at least texted him back.
“You okay, (Y/N)?” Lucien asks, startling you from your thoughts. The tip of your charcoal cracks against your drawing pad and you frown, staring at the black chalky marks on your fingers. You frown, shoving the immediate thought of Azriel from your head and tilt your head up to meet Lucien’s concerned gaze.
You offer him a forced smile. “Yeah, sorry, I was zoning out a bit. I’m fine.” You hadn’t realized that class ended and everyone is packing up their things. Feyre’s over by the drawers, stowing her pad in the one you share. Lucien doesn’t look like he believes you, but he stays silent while you hastily pack your supplies away, grimacing at the drawing you’d been working on. 
You don’t check your phone. You’d already woken up to multiple messages from Azriel this morning, asking to walk you to class and explain. Luckily, you hadn’t run into him on your way out the door, tearing down the staircase with a confused Feyre trying to keep up.
Lucien and Feyre are talking about where you should all head to lunch when the three of you leave the building. Alis had announced another assignment, and the premise already hangs heavy on your shoulders. The instructions were left loose enough that you have once again no idea what you’re going to draw for it. It’s infuriating, how everyone else just seems to know immediately what they’re wanting to create when it takes you weeks to figure it out, and then when you do, you’re changing your mind again and again, worried that nothing is good enough.
You run smack into Lucien’s back while you’re lost in your thoughts. Your friends are three steps out the door and your nose stings from where you’d hit it against your friend. Lucien hardly even seems to notice, his mouth set in a straight line and he and Feyre stare directly ahead. 
At Azriel, who’s leaning up against the railing. He looks so nervous it’s almost as if he doesn’t even go to this school; doesn’t walk into the same buildings or around the same campus. His thumb is tucked into the strap of his backpack slung over his shoulder, and the other is stuffed into the pocket of his leather jacket. His black hair is tousled but not from the wind, from the amount of times he’s nervously run his fingers through it.
You watch his golden eyes flick over Feyre and Lucien, darkening as they rove over your copper haired friend while you step out from behind him. He instantly finds your gaze and they soften, and then he’s pushing off from the railing and making his way towards you. Your face heats because this is the last place you thought Azriel would corner you. In public.
“Hey, Azriel,” Feyre greets, glancing over at you. You shake your head softly but keep your gaze pinned to Azriel who strides closer like he no longer has a care in the world. It’s a front and you know it.
Azriel nods politely, but he doesn’t break your stare. “(Y/N), can we talk for a minute?”
You feel Feyre’s confused blue eyes burning into your skin. The way that she slides her phone from her pocket like she’s trying not to make any sudden movements is not missed by you nor Azriel, but neither of you seem to care that she’s seconds away from messaging Rhys about this. You wonder if he knows, if Azriel had admitted anything to his roommates about you, about the night you shared together. 
Lucien is tense, shoulders coiled tight. He’s almost glaring at Azriel but it doesn’t faze the onyx haired boy in the least, like he’s a speck of dust on his shoulder. Nothing can deter Azriel, of this you know. Somehow, he’s just as stubborn as you are, and the soft look in his eyes, pleading with you, makes your stomach twist.
“Sure,” you find yourself agreeing. You turn to your friend so you don’t have to witness the relief on his face. “I’ll catch up with you guys later. And I’ll see you in Art History, Fey.”
“You better,” your best friend mutters, already tapping away at her phone. She drags Lucien by the sleeve because he doesn’t seem inclined to leave you alone with Azriel despite you agreeing to speak with him. Azriel looks like he’s going to bare his teeth at the boy. “Come on, Luc.”
You start down the stairs of the building, going the opposite direction from your friends. You can feel Lucein’s sun and moon eyes on you as you walk, but you don’t turn around to look. 
Azriel catches up to you in two great strides. You don’t know where you’re going, fine with waltzing around campus while you talk. You might need to text Feyre to bring you something to eat during class, because you’re getting hungry for lunch.
“I don’t like him,” Azriel mutters, and you can tell by the tight grip he has on the straps of his backpack.
“I don’t think you like anyone,” you respond, not unkindly, but it’s not a friendly remark either. It’s strange almost, to be seen with him in public not only after your public feud, but the night you’d spent together as well. It feels like a dirty little secret has come to light, and you don’t like it.
Azriel glances at you sidelong, but you refuse to meet his gaze. “I like you.”
You snort because he doesn’t even know you, not really. “You didn’t even like me two days ago, Azriel,” you start but he’s already shaking his head in disagreement, denying your accusations. “And with the way you up and left me in your room, I’m thinking there’s still a possibility that you don’t even like me now.”
He stops you with a gentle hand on your elbow, turning you to face him. You stumble at the suddenness of the move and it puts you a step closer to him than you’d like. His grip on your arm isn’t firm or demanding, it’s a soft caress that matches the pleading look in his honeyed eyes.
“Please,” he murmurs, and you can see just how much your avoidance has been bothering him. His fingers tremble along your arms and when you look down at them he pulls away, nervously tucking them into the pocket of his hoodie. It makes something in your chest crack a little. “I can explain.”
“Explain, then,” you answer simply.
Azriel shifts on his feet, glancing around. There are students milling about and you should probably keep walking or at least move out of the way, lest the both of you get mowed down by someone late to class or a biker. “Here?” 
You quirk a brow.
He sighs a little, exasperated. “Can I take you somewhere? How about lunch?” 
You study him. It’s clear that he wants to explain to you, and he looks just as stressed out about the situation as you are. And you really do want to hear what he has to say for himself, if his reason for leaving you is forgivable…
“Fine,” you relent, and his shoulders drop a notch. “But I have class this afternoon and I can’t be late.”
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
Rita’s is the kind of place that you walk past and don’t go in. 
The outside is a smidge better than decrepit, with its peeling paint and uneven sidewalk. There’s graffiti on the side of the building, tags you can hardly ready with how curvy and obnoxious the letters look. One of the windows has a shade, but it’s hanging by a thread and looks more like a hazard than not, and the rest of the windows are bare, sunlight pouring into the yellowing casement. You wouldn’t even know the place is open with its rusted neon sign so broken and sad. 
But Azriel guides you in through the door with a hand on the small of your back and you blame the shiver that travels up your spine on the blast of cold air that hits you in the face when you step over the threshold.
Maybe you’ve been a little harsh on its exterior appearance because the inside is tidy. The air smells like greasy burgers and crunchy fries, and there’s a shiny jukebox in the corner playing an oldies song you think you’ve heard at one of Cassian’s parties once. Well, you heard it through the wall when the entirety of said party belted it at the top of their lungs and not even your headphones could block out the noise.
There’s an older man sitting at the counter and a girl who looks to be about your age behind the counter. She’s smacking her gum and doodling on her order pad, a half abandoned milkshake melting in the red cup beside her. She doesn’t even look up when Azriel leads you towards a booth, and you slide in opposite him with furrowed brows.
“What’s wrong?” He asks you, nervousness flicking through his eyes. He hesitates to sit down, awaiting your response.
“Nothing,” you assure him with a soft smile you don’t feel is genuine. “I didn’t even know this place was here, really.”
Azriel all but slumps onto the electric blue seat, eyes sparkling with delight. Your heart rate picks up at the sight of the little grin he offers you. It’s nice to see this side of him, happy and relaxed, in his element. 
You wonder how he looks when he’s concentrated on a drawing, or a tattoo.
He’s got them covered up with his leather jacket today, though the tips of those coiling shadows around his collar bones peek out from the neckline of his black t-shirt and you think about how much you were coiled around each other the other night, skin to skin.
Your cheeks heat with the memory, and you look down at your lap.
“It’s great,” Azriel explains, slipping out of his jacket. You wish you had paid more attention to the artwork marking his skin the night you spent together but there hadn’t been much time to with the way you were all over each other, and he wasn’t around when you woke up. “Been coming here since freshman year.” 
You’re about to respond when the waitress you’d seen arrives, slapping two menu’s down on the funky patterned table. You startle with the motion and shift uncomfortably when Azriel all but glares at the girl. She doesn’t seem to care though, flipping her stark white hair over her shoulder with a sneer.
Her brown eyes flit over you like you’re a piece of her chewed gum stuck under the table, then leans her hip against the edge of the table, flipping her order pad open. “I already know what you want,” he says haughtily to Azriel, and then those piercing brown eyes are on you, pinning you to your seat like it’s a trap from Saw. “What will you be having?” 
“I, um, I’m not sure yet,” you stutter awkwardly, because you’re confused. Who is this and why is Azriel acting like this is normal? “I need to look at the menu.” 
She rolls her eyes and the silence that ensues makes your face grow hot, sweat bead at your hairline. She crosses her arms over her chest, popping a bubble with her gum, and it’s as if she’s waiting for you to look at the menu and decide right now. You send a pleading look to Azriel whose jaw is ticking with annoyance.
“Give us a minute, will you, Cresseida? And let Rita know I’m here. Thanks.” 
With another eye roll and an annoyed “Whatever,” Cresseida all but stomps away from your table. Your eyes trail her until she’s around the counter and pushing through the swinging doors to the kitchen.
“She seems…lovely,” you mutter, fingering the corner of the menu where it’s bent. “Seems like the kind of place you would’ve taken me when we didn’t like each other,” you tack on, squinting at the small font. Why are there so many items on the menu?
“I’m sorry about her,” Azriel blurts, and you think this is the first time you’ve ever seen him blush. It’s unfairly adorable. He offers you a hand, face up, and you can’t resist that look in his eyes, how he’s offering you his scarred hand instead of hiding it. With a short huff, you place your palm on his and he immediately intertwines your fingers, holding tight. It makes you blush. “She’s always been cranky,” he peers over his shoulder like she might be standing right behind him. “I promise, Rita is much nicer.”
You give him a forced smile because honestly, you’re not sure what else to say to that. You’re not even sure you’re all that hungry anymore, with Cresseida’s off putting attitude and the nerves that are gnawing on your stomach from the talk you’re about to have with Azriel.
You busy yourself with looking at the menu. There are way too many options and not enough time to decide because a short, stocky woman is trapezing her way around the countertop and towards your table, her eyes glowing with joy.
“Azriel, what brings you back so soon? Oh—and who is this lovely lady?” Her eyes fall across your intertwined fingers and she fails to stifle the beaming grin that appears on her red lips. You can tell that she’s a gem by appearance alone, but also in the way that she looks at Azriel, like he’s the son she’s never had. You can’t help but to smile at her. Her round face is flush with a permanent blush and she looks like the kind of woman you’d love to hug.
“Rita, this is (Y/N). (Y/N), this is Rita, the owner of Rita’s Diner.”
“Very nice to meet you,” you greet eagerly, trying to pull your hand away from Azriel’s to shake her hand. He doesn’t let go, and smirks at the glare you shoot his way.
“(Y/N) as in…” Rita trails off, flicking a glance at Azriel. You narrow your eyes at him, curious as to what he’s told her about you. She continues, “As in your girlfriend, Azriel?”
You almost splutter, cheeks going red hot at her insinuation.
Azriel doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest, admiring the color to your cheeks and the shock in your eyes. “Not yet.”
Not yet. 
But maybe soon, when he finally explains himself.
Rita winks at him and you really want to bury your face in the menu right now.
“What can I get for you, darlin’?” Rita asks, her voice sweet as cherry pie.
“I don’t know, there are so many options…” you trail off, sending a pleading look towards Azriel. “Almost too many to choose from.”
Rita’s chest swells with pride and Azriel snickers.
“Cass prefers the pancakes,” he supplies, “But I think the waffles are better.”
“Pancakes, it is,” you beam, handing Rita back the menu. Azriel glares playfully and Rita seems positively overjoyed as she makes her way back to the kitchen.
Your smiles fade with Rita’s cheerful attitude and it’s all too soon that you’re aware you’re holding Azriel’s hand and he still hasn’t explained. You look at him and he’s already sighing. There are dark circles under his eyes that you hadn’t noticed before, and you can tell that he hadn’t slept well last night either.
Azriel strokes a thumb across your knuckles and your tense shoulders ease a bit. The embarrassment you’d felt when you woken up alone in his bed has simmered with his eagerness to explain to you what happened that morning, but you’re still feeling a bit tender about it, especially when you see the pained look on Azriel’s face.
Whatever had happened hadn’t been good.
And you feel like a fool when he answers your question lingering between the both of you. 
“The reason I wasn’t there that morning was because my father was in town. He came to see me.” 
You try to swallow back the sudden rage boiling up from your stomach. The man who’d let his step-sons burn Azriel’s hands. The one who doesn’t want him to follow his dreams, his passions, when he clearly has the skill to do something amazing with them. The one who didn’t even visit him that night of the incident.
You squeeze his hand and Azriel seems to relax, understanding your forgiveness. Your throat is still tight when you respond, forcing the word out. “Okay…”
It gives him room to continue, even though Azriel looks like he’d rather face Cresseida’s wrath again.
“He found interest in purchasing and renovating our apartment building.” 
You blink, not sure you’ve heard him correctly. “What?” You tack on, defensively. “Why?”
Azriel shrugs. To keep me in fucking check. He sighs as if the tremendous weight on his shoulders is two seconds away from crushing him completely. You don’t like that frown on his face and you don’t like his father.
“He thinks it’s a good investment opportunity, I guess.”
You don’t like the sound of this one bit, and Azriel agrees with you.
“And if he does buy it?”
Azriel shakes his head sadly, “No more neighbors.” 
You didn’t think the thought of not being his next door neighbor would hit you so hard. Your chest aches with the idea of it, no longer sharing a wall. Even though you despised it at the beginning, you’ve gotten used to and even like the fact that you share a wall now.
Rita comes back and sets a plate of hot pancakes in front of you and a stack of blueberry waffles in front of Azriel. Everything smells delicious and your mouth waters at the sight of the thick pat of butter melting its way across the top of your breakfast.
She places a milkshake between you and Azriel, and there’s no missing the two neon colored straws sticking out of the top. You blush, thanking her.
She winks in response. “Enjoy, you two.”
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
MM Taglist Part 1: @justvibbinghere @nickishadow139 @going-through-shit @honeycriess @natashachelsea @thisisew @kennedy-brooke @cat-or-kitten @sourapplex @magical-mischief-makers @reiincarnatiion @ccucumbers @secret-ly-here @throneofsmut @cami26cami @torchbearerkyle @a-frog-with-a-laptop @sevikas-whore @endless-worldss @vellichor01 @bangtans-jagiya @kalulakunundrum @pinksmellslikelove @sakurafrost3-blog @imxnotxhere @bookishbroadwaybish @justdreamstars @i-am-infinite @whichwitchisthebitch @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @sia-r @ssmay123 @blackthrongirl @haivenhoule @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @bloodicka @wilmalovegood @jw83 @acourtofbatboydreams @hannzoaks @judig92 @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @ilikefictionalmen @harrystylesfan2686 @dr4g0ngirl
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hxneyhxrts · 1 year
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Switzerland || James “Bucky” Barnes
warning: smut, unprotected sex, impact play (rough), explicit language, degradation, maybe dacryphilia
“Give me a fucking break, Y/N,” Bucky groaned.
Two hours.
They had been bickering for two hours.
It had started with a mission. A quick rendezvous for some data Sam had requested from a sister agency overseas. Y/N had figured it might be nice to get out and travel a bit.
Wrong.
“Give you a break? James, we are in Sweden! Sweden. The rendezvous was supposed to be in Switzerland. I mean, you have to understand why this is frustrating!”
“I messed up! Would you relax?”
Bucky slid the keycard into their hotel door, shouldering his way in. It was a last minute booking, since they hadn’t meant to be here in the first place. Thanks to James.
Bucky cursed under his breath, and Y/N peeked over his shoulder to see what was wrong.
Sick.
“Oh great. You booked a room with one bed. Awesome,” Y/N snarked. She shook her head in disappointment. “You know, I should’ve probably taken over booking and planning when you landed us in the wrong fucking country, but it seems I haven’t learned my lesson yet.”
“Would you just fucking drop it? I said I was sorry!” Bucky bit out.
Y/N scowled. “Sorry doesn’t fix the fact that we’re in fucking Sweden, James. Someone has to explain this to-”
“Stop calling me that.”
She paused mid-sentence. “Calling you what?”
Bucky heaved a sigh. “James. You can be mad at me, but please just… stop calling me that. You never call me that.”
All the fight left her then. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself a moment of quiet to calm down.
“I’m gonna take a shower. Don’t wait up.”
----------------------------------
The hot water did little to relax Y/N’s nerves, but she was clean. And if she took an extra 15 minutes to just stand there and enjoy the quiet, well that was her business.
But she couldn’t stay there forever. She knew a fight sat unfinished on the other side of the door, and the longer she stayed in the quiet of the bathroom, the longer she pushed off a resolution.
So with a sigh, she pushed back the shower curtain and fumbled for her towel. She spent much longer than necessary drying off, avoiding the inevitable while she could.
Once her skin was thoroughly dry (and beginning to pink in the spots she had rubbed too much), she gave in to the gnawing in her stomach. She reached for her pajamas with a sigh, mentally going over how to diffuse the fight that waited for her.
Her hand met the empty countertop.
Y/N’s brows furrowed. She spun around, surveying the bathroom for her clothes.
Nothing.
Because this was supposed to be a day trip.
You don’t pack pajamas for a day trip.
Y/N wanted to scream. Because of course this would be happening. Her shit show day had reached its dirty grimy claws into the evening.
Her annoyance reared its head again, and she had to keep herself from storming out and shouting at Bucky once more for getting them in this predicament.
But she bit her tongue, and cracked the door just a sliver. “Bucky?”
Shuffling. Then, “Yeah?”
Her cheeks were already burning from embarrassment. “I didn’t bring pajamas. Do you mind calling down to the front desk and asking for a robe or something?”
“Y/N, it’s like nine o’clock. The receptionist has probably gone home by now.”
Her irritation flared. “Can you just check? The only other option is putting on the clothes I wore today and they’re filthy.”
She heard an annoyed curse and more movement. Then a metal hand was sliding in the gap in the door, a t-shirt hanging from its fingers.
“Here,” came a grunt through the wood.
A flush crept down Y/N’s chest. “I don’t-”
“Would you stop fucking arguing for once, and just take it?”
“I still don’t have any pants!”
“It’s a long shirt, you won’t need them! Just put it on and fucking relax.”
The sheer command in his voice would have been enough to make her listen, nevermind the fact that Bucky had always had her wrapped around his finger. So with a huff that sounded more pathetic than grumpy, she snatched the shirt and slammed the door.
The shirt was quintessential Bucky. Plain, dark, simple. It hung just past her hips, a bit too short to be considered decent.
“I knew it,” she growled. But there was no use in pouting about it now. It was clean and comfortable (and warm).
It took every ounce of security (and maybe insanity) to open the door and walk out. She refused to look at Bucky, but she could still feel his eyes like a physical weight on her body. After several rather awkward seconds, he cleared his throat.
“I’m not sleeping on the floor. So either you make yourself cozy down there, or we’re splitting the bed.”
Not even two minutes in, and he had found her last nerve. Found it, poked at it, sank his teeth into it, shredded it. “I’m not sleeping on the floor.”
“Well I guess that settles it.”
What a shit day.
With a pout, Y/N pushed her way under the duvet, taking notice of how small the bed seemed to feel with Bucky in it. Her thigh brushed his and she bit back her gasp.
“Are you wearing pants?”
“No. Neither are you. Leave me alone and go to sleep.”
Y/N rolled her eyes and curled under the blankets. She had almost dozed off when a sharp tug on the covers disrupted her. “Do you mind?”
“You’re hogging all the blankets. Do you mind?” Bucky hissed.
And just to piss him off more, Y/N yanked the blankets enough to leave him exposed to the chill in the air.
“Are you serious? What are you, 5?”
“Do we really want to start talking about ages, you old fuck?”
Bucky groaned and reached for the bedside lamp, bathing the room in darkness. “Fine. Whatever. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
The peace in the room settled and remained for maybe five minutes.
Until…
“Would you stop pouting?”
Y/N threw her hands up incredulously. “I’m not pouting!”
“Yes. You are.”
“How would you even know?”
“I can just tell. It’s irritating me. Now stop,” Bucky spat.
“That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”
Y/N’s not sure how it happened, or what set it off exactly. But Bucky had gripped the back of her neck and pulled her face to hover above his too quickly for her to prepare, her hands falling to his chest to balance herself. Bucky’s fingers dug into the nape of her neck with a bruising grip, and he soon brought his metal ones up to grab her jaw.
“Enough,” he growled.
With her head caged between his hands, she had no room to move, let alone reply. It wasn’t necessary though, as Bucky pushed through, his tone turning razor sharp.
“Enough with the pouting. Enough with the disobedience. Enough with the smart ass comments. Enough with calling me ‘James’. Enough. I’ve had enough. You can’t seem to help yourself from being a pain in my ass. I’m over it. Everyone else wants to kiss your ass, I’m not gonna do that. I want-”
He stopped. His teeth bared and gritted.
So it came as a shock when his lips crashed into hers with a force so staggering, she would’ve fell back if not for his hands holding her in place.
The kiss was urgent. Desperate. It was teeth, and tongues, and lips, and spit, and lust. Y/N struggled to catch her breath, but feared breaking away to break whatever spell had fallen over them.
“Such a fucking waste,” Bucky groaned. “A mouth like this, and all you do is pout and whine with it.”
The hand on the back of her neck slid up to her hair, and with a yank he had her throat bared where he sat up to meet it. His teeth nipped at her neck, roughly biting at the skin there. Y/N threw her head back in ecstasy, biting back a moan that threatened to slip.
A warm trickle slid down her neck.
Y/N pushed Bucky off by the shoulders, her hands flying to her neck. “Am I-” she stuttered. “Am I bleeding?”
“That should be the least of your worries right now.”
And before she could protest, he had pinned her on her back. “I am going to fuck you hard enough that you feel me every time you sit down. Every time you mouth off. Every time you touch yourself,” he continued, kissing a trail down her stomach. “I am going to ruin you.”
That didn’t sound so terrible.
The moment Bucky put his mouth on her, her eyes rolled to the back of her head. This had to be some sort of punishment. To be laid out in front of someone she despised and fall apart like this. Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, small gasps managing to escape.
“You can do better than that,” Bucky urged.
And yes. She could. When his tongue did a particularly sinful circle around her clit, the whine that left her cut through the air loud enough that she briefly thought of whoever might be in the room next door. But when Bucky repeated the action, drawing another series of whimpers from her, she found she didn’t care.
A groan sounded, and the vibrations from it rang through her core. “Just like that,” Bucky gasped.
His mouth returned with a vengeance, licking and sucking at her like a man starved. She couldn’t have held her mewls and whimpers to herself if she tried, embarrassment be damned.
“Please,” she gasped. “I’m gonna-”
“No.”
Bucky pulled back at once, and her core throbbed at the loss of contact. Y/N sat up on her elbows, poised to protest.
“There’s that pout again.”
And yes, she was pouting.
But who could blame her?
“If I see that pout again, I’m knocking it off your fucking face.”
She immediately sobered and set her mouth straight.
Bucky smiled. “Good girl.”
Fuck.
Y/N keened high in her throat, the sound leaving without her intending it to. A flush crept up her cheeks.
Bucky’s grin looked like it might split his cheeks.
“Oh?” he teased. “Did you like that?”
His hands snaked up her waist, pushing his shirt higher on her torso, inches of skin creeping out bit by bit. His fingers, both flesh and metal burned her skin as they trailed up her sides. She gasped as his hands finally cupped her breasts.
“You like being told how good you are? You like being my good girl?”
Y/N whined, her hands moving to grab at Bucky’s wrists. Something to anchor her, she supposed.
Or just an excuse to touch him.
“You want me to tell you how pretty you look like this? Spread out and whining for me? Wearing my shirt?”
It was becoming too much: the way his hands grabbed at her skin, the way his breath fanned over her face, the words he was speaking.
“Please,” she begged.
“Use your words.”
“Fuck, please,” she tried. “I need you.”
Bucky smirked. “Where? Where do you need me?”
This was torture. She had seen the worst of humanity. She had fought the worst of humanity. But this was pure, unadulterated punishment.
And she loved it.
“Please,” she rasped.
Bucky chuckled, a sound that raked down her nerves. “Only because you asked so nicely.”
He plunged two metal fingers deep in her core, the cold biting into the lining of her walls. It stung, but it was wonderful.
“God,” Y/N gasped, a newfound sense of euphoria washing over her.
“You feel so soft,” Bucky rasped, kissing the space between her breasts with a tenderness that was unlike him.
It was too much. The cool steel of his fingers stung and her whimpering was fueled by the way they curled inside her.
“I knew you’d like this,” Bucky rasped. His hand pushed harder, deeper, until he was stroking just out of reach of where she really wanted him. “I always thought you’d be responsive, but this…” Another kiss. “This is better than I could have ever imagined.”
“Bucky,” Y/N moaned.
He paused. His lips hovered just above her nipple and his fingers stilled inside her. “Fuck, say it again.”
And so she did.
“Bucky.”
“Fuck, good girl,” he groaned, plunging back in with a renewed vigor. “You’re getting me all wet, baby. Look how pretty you look taking my fingers. Already whining, and I’ve barely touched you.” He dove in for her mouth this time, lips borderline bruising. He spoke against her mouth in a tone that sent heat rushing through her. “I can’t wait to see what you do with my cock in you.”
“I’m gonna-”
“No you’re not,” he growled, pulling his fingers away. Y/N groaned, but was cut short by a hand at her throat.
“Enough. Whining. I won’t tell you again,” Bucky hissed.
He tightened his grip around her throat, and her vision immediately blurred. Bucky smirked. “Good.”
Then he was inspecting his fingers, watching the way her essence dripped down the metal of his hand. Another groan.
“Open,” he commanded. Y/N’s lips parted, her tongue darting out eagerly. Bucky slid two metal fingers into her waiting mouth, pushing them back far enough to brush the back of her throat. Her eyes watered as she gagged, but she kept her mouth open all the same.
“So pretty.”
It was intoxicating, the taste of herself on the tang of metal, and she greedily lapped at his digits while he thrusted them past her lips. She had just started to lose herself when he pulled his fingers away.
His now spit-slick metal hand dug into the flesh on her ass when he had managed to (easily) manhandle her onto her front, leaving her gasping into the pillow at the sting. Her scorching flesh burned hotter against the cool brush of vibranium. Y/N’s entire body was on fire, made worse by the intensity and heat of Bucky’s gaze sliding over her skin. She was still lost in that feeling when she jumped against the sheets with a whimper, Bucky’s hand soothing over the now sore spot he had left after striking the flesh underneath.
“That one was for snapping at me all day,” he taunted, a smirk evident in his voice as he raised his hand again. Y/N braced herself for the strike, but still cried out when it landed. “And that, is for calling me ‘James’,” he growled out.
She was panting, breath ragged and sharp in her lungs. “You-” she gasped out as his fingers drew lazy circles over the marks he had left on her ass. “You can’t-”
“I can,” he hissed, wrenching her head back by her hair. “And you’re going to take everything I give you.”
Any sane person would’ve refused. Kicked him off of them with a snide comment and gone to bed, maybe even pretending this never happened to salvage any scrap of dignity left after everything that had happened.
“Got it?” Bucky growled with another tug to her hair.
“Yes, sir,” she groaned back.
The older man sighed contentedly, releasing his grip on her hair and dragging both hands down her spine slowly. “I think you’ve had enough spanking for now.”
A small surge of something close to panic roared through her, panic at losing this feeling, and the sting she could still feel on her ass.
“No!” Y/N gasped out before she could stop herself, too far gone to feel the bite of embarrassment at her words. Bucky’s hands stilled on her hips, and his fingers flexed against her skin.
“No?”
“Please,” she nearly whispered. “Please keep going.”
Silence hung, low and heavy around them for several moments. Had it not been for the weight of his hands still on her, Y/N would’ve thought he left.
Then, a groan, low and guttural, like the sound was being punched out of him. Bucky’s hand slid around the front of her neck, the heat of his flesh seeping into her throat. His grip was tight enough to pull her head up, but just barely. Suddenly, his mouth was right next to her ear, tone low and threatening, much like one he used when speaking to their targets.
“This is your last chance to tell me to cool off before I ruin you,” he bit out.
It was as good of a warning as she was gonna get, Y/N knew from their time together on missions, seeing the “Winter Soldier” firsthand. A sick thrill ran through her blood.
“Please,” she insisted.
A resounding ‘smack’ rang through the air as Bucky brought down his other hand against her ass, metal impacting soft skin. Y/N arched back against him, simultaneously running from and chasing the feeling.
More smacks followed, each one worse than the last. Her resolve was crumbling beneath her with each blow. Sensing her drop, Bucky smoothed both hands over her abused cheeks with a smirk.
“What happened to begging? Hm?” he taunted, digging his fingers into her already bruising skin just to see her hiss and try to pull away.
“Please,” she slurred against the pillow.
Bucky laughed, a mean and cruel sound. “Is that all you know how to say now? Have I already fucked you that stupid? I’ve barely touched you sweet girl.”
Y/N’s head was reeling, an emotional whiplash pounding at her temples as he mocked her and soothed the bite all in one breath.
“I need you inside me. Need to feel you,” she whimpered out, writhing as his hands pressed her further into the mattress.
Bucky muttered a sharp ‘fuck’ under his breath, before recomposing himself. She could hear the shuffle of him ridding himself of his pants, and she held her breath when she felt the rigid line of him press against her already sore ass.
Y/N keened high in her throat and pressed her hips back into his harder. Bucky pulled back just barely, teasing her.
“You sure about this?”
And maybe it was the gentle note of sincerity staining his voice that made her head swim, but Y/N found her breath catching once again.
“Please,” she insisted again.
And then Bucky was pressing into her slowly, inch by torturous inch, until he was seated all the way to the hilt with a strangled moan. Words failed Y/N as she felt the head of his cock pressing into the deepest and most intimate part of her, already leaving her aching in his wake.
Bucky dug his fingers into her flesh, pulling her back against him to sink into her even further. It was overwhelming, the way he filled every space within her, leaving her no room to even breathe. He was unlike any other partner she had ever had, and Y/N had the sick feeling she may never be satisfied with anyone else. She wrapped her fingers around the smooth metal of Bucky’s wrist, dragging his hand up to settle around her throat once more. The older man’s grip stayed loose where it rested against the skin of her neck as he let out a shallow breath.
“Don’t,” he panted. “Don’t do that. I don’t think I can be gentle with you if we start that.”
It was sick, so sick, the thrill that thrummed through her veins at the thought of Bucky, the Winter Soldier, stringing her out and using her body in that brutal way that only he could.
It was that same thrill (and slight mania) that sent her over the edge of insanity (and stupidity).
“Is that so?,” she gritted out with as much teasing in her voice as she could. She felt him tense behind her, deadly quiet and still as he waited for her to continue. “Or are you just worried you won’t have enough bite to match your bark?”
It was the wrong thing to say.
Bucky’s fingers tightened around her throat to the point of it being painful, her breathing slowing to almost a stand still. His hot breath ran across her ears as he leaned in to whisper, “I’m going to enjoy every fucking second of this.”
The pace he set was immediately brutal, leaving no time for her to adjust to the sheer size and force of him. The sharp curve of hip bones dug into her ass almost painfully with every thrust as he filled her to the hilt. Words failed her completely, nothing but wanton moans stuttering out between her ragged breathing. Normally, she’d have the sense to be embarrassed about her volume altogether, but this was not the same run-of-the-mill hookups she was used to. This was untamed and raw and torturous.
Another moan slipped between her rough-bitten lips, and then Bucky was slipping his grip up to her chin and cheeks to grab her face hard and turn her head painfully to meet his wild eyes.
“Shut the fuck up,” he hissed, pushing her face away again before dropping his hand against the flesh of her bottom once again, leaving a sting in its wake.
His manhandling only made that pit in her stomach worse, and Y/N clenched her jaw to stifle the whimpers free flowing from her mouth. It only seemed to spur the soldier behind her even more.
His cock was dragging against her walls sinfully, and she wondered if she had ever felt this full before. Or if she’d ever feel this full again.
“You want everyone in this goddamn hotel to hear you?” Bucky ground out when yet another pathetic sound escaped her. He pulled his hips back just enough to slip out of her before yanking her up by the arm to roll her over onto her back. The intimacy of facing him as he dismantled her piece by piece was overwhelming, and Y/N nearly cowered away from the heat of his stare as it roved over exposed form, but Bucky was quickly slipping his cock back into her and she was keening once again.
Bucky’s hand reared back quickly, and Y/N braced herself for the slap to fall against her ass, but gasped when the strike landed across her cheek. Tears immediately welled up in her eyes at the burn, but the moan that tore from her throat betrayed her arousal at the impact.
The older man towering over her laughed, a full and mocking sound that made her want to simultaneously sink back and chase the cadence of it. His tone was nothing short of taunting when he sneered at her. “You’re getting off on this.”
Her cheeks burned again, this time from shame instead of smacking, and she pulled into herself just barely. It was humiliating to be this vulnerable in front of him, but the thrill of him seeing every dirty part of her and fueling all of it gave her a sick sort of satisfaction.
“You like when I get rough with you, pretty girl? You like it when I treat you like the whore you are?” he crooned, a gentle hand smoothing down her cheek as his thrusts picked up even more. That same hand gripped her cheeks hard enough to make her lips pucker, a smile pulling up at his lips as her pupils blew out. “My little whore. All mine.”
Mine.
Y/N whined, that knot tightening even further. “Please,” she gasped out for what felt like the hundredth time.
Bucky smirked. “Please, what? What is it, baby?”
Any other day, his teasing would’ve earned him a lashing from her, but she only found it more and more enticing now. “I need to cum,” she panted, on the verge of tears. “Please let me cum.”
She could see the effect her begging had on him, his eyes darkening considerably. “I don’t know-”
A choked sob broke from her chest, a single tear rolling down her cheek hotly. It was all too much, and she had the feeling she’d combust if he didn’t grant her relief. “Please,” she begged once again, more desperate now.
“Fuck,” Bucky gritted out between clenched teeth, eyes zeroing in on the path of the tear staining her cheek. “Cum for me, sweet girl.”
She could have wept as the wave of euphoria swept over her, pulling her under fast and hard and wracking through her body with an intensity she had never felt before. She clenched around Bucky’s shaft like a vice, and she felt him twitch before he was spilling into her with mutters of “all mine”. His thrusting continued as she rode out her high and even long after it had passed, making her whine at the sensitivity. He only pulled out when she weakly shoved at his shoulder, too overstimulated to take much more.
They were both panting as they stared at each other, and Y/N said a silent thank you to whoever could hear her that Bucky looked just as wrecked as she felt. He pulled away from her quicker than she would have liked and retreated to the bathroom. She heard the faucet turn and on and off before he reemerged with a wet rag. Her face flushed as he nudged her knees open and made to wipe at his seed dripping out of her before she stopped him with a hand to the wrist.
He leveled her with a look that made her toes curl, that same bit of dominance she had seen firsthand creeping into the expression. “I was just inside you, and now you’re trying to keep me from cleaning you up?” Y/N swallowed, still too embarrassed to let him take care of her like this. Bucky scoffed, and his voice turned stern. “Move your hand. Now.”
And even though they were done with whatever had just happened between them, Y/N found herself obeying the order. Her partner took care to clean her up gently before tossing the rag aside in the small pile of dirty linens they had accumulated. He slid into bed next to her, lifting the sheets slightly before pulling her into him with a strong, muscle chorded arm. Silence hung around them for a moment.
“Should we talk about this?” she whispered, afraid that speaking any louder would shatter the calm.
“No,” Bucky replied simply, sinking a stone in her heart before he continued. “You need to rest right now. Talking can wait until you’ve slept.”
It was a sweet sentiment, but Y/N didn’t want to leave things unchecked just because she needed rest (even if sleep was tugging at her eyelids heavily). “Are you sure? Maybe we should-”
“It wasn’t a suggestion, you’re going to sleep,” he insisted, pulling her in tighter and tempting her with his warmth.
She gave in with a playful huff, burrowing into his chest with a private smile. It felt natural, to be with him like this.
But Bucky Barnes always has to ruin her good mood.
“Who knew bossing you around was all it took to get you to shut up.”
She rolled her eyes, even as a laugh crept up her throat. “Don’t get used to it.”
Y/N felt the smile he buried in her hair as he pecked the crown of her head.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
note: i’m not aiming for accuracy, im aiming for a good time
3K notes · View notes
crljhnn · 1 year
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Math tutor
Pairing: Rodrick Heffley x fem!Reader
Summary: Rodrick is continuously unsuccessful in asking you out, so when he finds out that you are now tutoring his younger brother he decides to use this to his advantage. The only problem, Greg doesn't play along.
No physical description of the reader; No use of y/n
Word count: 2.6k
Warnings: None
>Posted on AO3 as well<
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“So that means x equals 9.” The answer comes out more like a question.
You've been tutoring Greg for about three weeks now and he finally, for the first time since starting this school year, seems to understand what is going on during math class.
“Yes, that’s right!”
“Really?”
While Greg wasn’t the first Heffley you ever tutored, he was the first to actually listen to what you said and process your explanations.
A few years ago you were taking the same math class as his older brother Rodrick who, back then, quite literally begged you to give him some tutoring lessons. While you didn’t like the idea of spending extra time at school to teach someone math, him apparently being so desperate for help, tugged at your heartstrings, making you give in.
On top of that, him being kind of cute and your teeny-tiny crush on him helped convince you as well. However, this adoration you harbored for about three months at that point, died about 5 minutes into your session.
He was barely paying attention to what you were saying, focusing more on drumming his pencils on the edge of the desk while humming along, using every breath you took to change the subject, mostly telling you about this little band of his. The straw that broke the camels back was when he dared to ask why you wanted to end the session only 15 minutes in, following it up with a „That was fun, let’s study together again soon!“.
Since you felt rather disrespected by that, you haven’t really spoken to him since. The highest form of communication was a forced smile when he would greet you in the hallway. You don’t have any common classes anymore.
However, your fiasco concerning Rodricks tutoring lessons didn’t stop his mom from asking you to tutor her younger son who, unsurprisingly, was falling behind in math as well. The significant difference this time was, that you were being paid. So even if Greg turned out to be just as uninterested in what you were saying as his older brother, it wouldn’t be a complete waste of time, at least for you.
That’s how you ended up in the local library every Monday and Wednesday for the last few weeks, explaining math to the younger brother of your former crush.
Today was different though. Since the library had to close down for a week, because of renovations, you decided to meet at the Heffleys house instead.
The last thing Rodrick expected, when he went downstairs to raid the fridge for snacks, was finding his crush of 3 years sitting in his living room.
Having his eyes fixed on you, he misses the last step, causing him to stumble, managing in the last second to grasp the railing to stop himself from face-planting. The result was him reaching the end of the stairs with a loud crash.
“You surely know how to make a remarkable entrance.”
“Haha yeah, hi.” He nervously scratches the back of his head “What are you… hah… what are you doing here?” ‘Stay cool Rodrick, you got this!’
“What does it look like? She’s tutoring me dumbass” The oldest Heffley son honestly didn’t even realize his younger brothers presence until he spoke up.
“Ah cool, so uhm good luck?” With another awkward laugh, he turns around and runs back upstairs.
Back in his room, he begins to panic, if he would have known that you were here he would have prepared better. But he’s sure he can still wing it.
First of all, he’s calling the band over for practice, I mean, he has his own band, chicks dig that.
He has it all planned out in his head, he will put on nice clothes, a nice perfume, and maybe even a bit of eyeliner as well, surely you’re into that. Then he’s gonna go downstairs, let his band in, and have a little jamming session with the boys.
Then there are two possible ways how the plan could continue to play out.
Possibility one, you hear his band playing from the living room and are so impressed that you just have to go and get a closer look. After that, he is going to invite you to sit in on practice for a bit longer. At the end of the session mesmerized will be an understatement to describe your state of mind and you won’t even have to think about it twice when he finally asks you out on a date.
The second possible outcome of you hearing him play is that you, while amazed, are still too shy to come up to him, so he will take a little break to get himself something to drink. Like one of those movie cliches, he’s gonna come in all sweaty, taking a sip of water and then emptying the rest of the bottle over his face and body to ‚cool himself down. Women find that hot, right? You definitely won’t be able to take your eyes off of him then.
While he is daydreaming about you drooling over him, he simultaneously digs through his closet, trying to find this one specific band shirt, that he bought after overhearing you gushing about their newest album. At the same time as he finds it, he hears his friends pull up, making him change in record speed while leaving his room to go back downstairs.
“Oh my god thank you for finally changing your shirt, the last one was smelling disgusting after you’ve been wearing it for like two weeks straight.” Greg had picked up on Rodricks crush on his tutor instantly, quickly deciding that using this new information to mess with him is the best form of revenge for the years of torture his brother put him through.
“Ugh shut up.” He turns to you “He’s lying you know. I change my clothes an appropriate amount of times. I actually just got ready for band practice. You remember me telling you about my band right? The boys are gonna be here any minute now.” He tries to be casual by leaning against the railing of the stairs but ends up stumbling instead.
“Yeah, I remember,” You don’t seem too happy about it though “But why do you have your shirt on backwards?”
Rodricks head snaps down. Fuck. Greg giggles. An awkward silence follows.
He's saved by the doorbell ringing, followed by the other Löded Diaper members walking in.
“Hi bro!”
“Yo Rodrick!”
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Why do you have your shirt on backwards?”
This time it’s you who giggles.
Sensing how embarrassed their band founder is, the boys take pity on him and rush him away.
After Rodrick explained his plan to his friends, resulting in him getting hyped up by them, they played for a while. After about 30 minutes he concludes that you won’t make the first move, which brings him to execute plan B of his strategy: to take matters into his own hands.
“You got this man!” He jogs back towards the living room, expecting to find you and his younger brother still studying but instead, he is greeted with Greg sitting in front of the tv playing video games.
“Oh is your tutoring session over already?” He tries to sound unbordered but fails horribly.
“Yeah you know I found it really hard to concentrate with this loud music, so we cut today short.” Greg grins up at the oldest Heffley child.
“Listen up you little shit-” he doesn’t finish his sentence. Maybe he could use Gregs help for his own benefit since you always seem to flee when he tries to make a move. It was the same a few years ago.
He had it all planned out back then as well. First, he was gonna ask you out for a study date, well that didn’t quite work out and it ended up more like a tutoring session. However, the result was that you two were spending some alone time together, so you could say that he roughly reached his initial goal. At least he counted it as a success.
Then Rodrick was going to make you fall for him. And how was he gonna do that? By impressing you of course. And what is the best way to impress a girl? Being in a band! Easy.
Well, that didn’t work out, driving you away even further. So maybe he could use his younger brother to get some inside info on what you like in men and what makes you fall for them.
Rodrick is fast to lay out his new plan to Greg.
“And why would I assist you with that? What is in it for me?” As expected, he is not exactly keen on helping his older brother out. So threatening it is.
“Cause if you don’t, you will regret it.” Greg is about to refuse again when he gets an idea. This would be the perfect way to get revenge on Rodrick. He is just gonna spin around everything you say and make his older brother ruin every chance he's ever had with you.
“Alright fine, I’ll do it.”
“Okay spit it out!” You and Greg are seated at your usual table at the library “You haven’t been able to sit still since you got here, what’s wrong?”
“I have a question.” He is not looking at you.
“Okay shoot!”
Greg has been thinking about how to interrogate you about your type without raising suspicions since the day he agreed to help Rodrick. “So there is this girl I kind of like and I wanted to ask you for advice. If a guy would want to go out with you, what would he need to do to stir your interest?”
“Well, every girl is different so-”
“Yeah but what about you?”
That confuses you a bit, but Greg asking you for girl advice was cute enough for you to not overanalyze it further.
“Well me personally, I like sweet and considerate guys,…”
“So what did she say?!” Rodrick was waiting for his younger brother at the front door, attacking him with questions as soon as he was close enough to hear.
“Calm down! So first of all she said, that she likes assholes you know, just your typical badboy!”
“…you know, the kind of guy who listens to what you have to say and really values your opinion. I want someone who actually hears what I say and shows that he is interested in me as a person...”
“She wants someone who is just a natural leader, an alpha, someone who makes decisions for her and shows dominance by interrupting her frequently. Also don’t seem too eager, she said she finds that overwhelming and just too much. Play it cool, act like you don’t care.”
“… so that means I also prefer deeper compliments, not just about my looks. Of course, it's nice to be called pretty every once in a while, but there is nothing worse than a guy repeatedly telling you how attractive you are, without ever appreciating anything else about you! Like is that the only thing about me that you like, my looks?…”
“She also likes to be complimented about her looks a lot, the more the better. Don’t even bother with any other kinds of compliments. ”
“… And lastly, never compliment a woman by putting other women down. The whole ‘Oh you're just not like other girls’ thing is deeply rooted in misogyny. It’s never a flattering compliment when it's only working because you are putting someone else down.”
“And lastly, she wants to feel special, you know, the best compliments include a comparison, for example, tell her how she is prettier than other women!”
Rodrick was hastily writing everything down.
“Thank you so much, I owe you!”
“No problem”
While you forgot about Gregs weird behavior as soon as you go back to explaining math, you are reminded of it again later, when he asks you to have your next session at his house, without giving an actual reason.
The weirdness reached its peak when he, shortly after you arrived at his house the next week, excused himself to quote ‘Look for, uh… you know,… a thing? That’s in my room’, then went to the bathroom instead, and ‘coincidentally’ as soon as he left his older brother showed up.
“Heyyy what’s up?” Rodrick mentally revises the list he learned by heart last night.
‘Be an asshole’ he kicks your water bottle that was standing next to you, “Oops…”
“Rodrick what the fu-”
‘Show dominance’
“Pick it up!”
“Excuse me? What is wrong wit-”,
‘Act like you don’t care’
“Quit talking like I care about what you have to say, what was your name again?”
“Wh- We both know that you know my name, what the fu-”,
‘Compliment her looks’
“You’re hot!”
And lastly, ‘Make her feel special by comparing her to other women’
“Especially compared to the other girls at school”.
A perfect delivery. He did everything that Greg told him to do. But why did you seem so angry? You looked like you were ready to swing at him.
That’s when he saw it. His shitty little brother was watching the interaction through the slightly opened bathroom door, holding a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. When he catches Rodricks eye he slams the door shut.
“I’m gonna kill you!” He is sprinting towards the room his brother is hiding in, banging his fists against the door.
“What the fuck is going on?” You haven’t been so confused in a long time. That’s when it clicked for you too. That’s why Greg was acting so weird, that’s why he asked about YOUR dating preferences specifically. He asked for advice for Rodrick but must have messed with his brother, based on the older ones reaction.
“Rodrick, were you trying to hit on me?” Your voice is heavily laced with disbelief.
The boy stopped his obnoxious assault on the door.
“Did it work?”
You barely hold in your laugh. “Sure.”
“Wait really?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
Your smile is kinder now, finding this side of Rodrick, where he is eager to appeal to you, really endearing. Shit, are your feelings for him coming back? You definitely were completely over your crush before, so how did he so easily wrap you around his finger again?
“I would have never guessed that you out of all people were into me, you know, after the little stunt you pulled a while ago.”
“What do you mean?” Rodrick is confused, when did he do something that made you believe that he wasn’t interested in you?
“Our tutoring session? When you completely disrespected me by not even listening to me after you were the one to ask for help.”
“I was listening to you! It's just hard to concentrate when you are so… you! And your voice is so…” Wow he just has this way with words “And I didn't intend for it to be actually studying when I ask you. I just wanted an excuse to hang out with you, maybe impress you a bit, my band being the impressive part by the way, and then later ask you out on a date.” He scratches the back of his head sheepishly.
“And this little scene that played out just now, I guess that was Gregs doing?”
“Yes, since it didn’t work out the last two times I tried to get you to go out with me, I thought this was the best way to do it.”
Oh, your crush was definitely back, and bigger than ever at that.
“Well you never actually asked me out, maybe that would have been enough.”
“Really?”
“I don’t know, guess you have to ask to find out.”
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johnsgunbelt · 4 months
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I am back again.
*rubbing my hands while sending you a sweet sweet ask*
Fem reader that takes Ghost to meet her Family even when they're Hella toxic, always berating her, judging her, making her feel as if she's not good enough.
When they see the behemoth of a man who has her back and won't hesitate to break theirs, they all scatter away with their tails tucked beneath them.
Major satisfaction for both Ghost and his sweet woman.
Please make it angst and have badass boyfriend Ghosty save the day.🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺
Family Issues - Simon 'Ghost' Riley
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Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Hurt/Comfort,Angst,Fluff
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It was no secret you hated your family. Your sister always tried to hit on every boyfriend you introduced, Your mom was emotionally abusive, and your father? Rarely around.
So when Ghost asked to meet your family you froze up and didn’t know what to say, of course he noticed. He asked why you looked upset and you sat him down on your couch.
“Well listen…My family isn’t uhm, functional and I just don’t think it’ll go the way you're expecting. I have no problem introducing you but you’re not gonna like it.” “Sweetie, trust me I won’t judge you for your family I know how you feel about ‘em.”
You smiled and rubbed your thumb over his hand. “Okay, I’ll call to see what day we can go over.” 
You called around an hour later and sat outside on your porch smoking a cigarette. Your mother picked up, “What.” “Hello to you too, listen I have a boyfriend of a couple of years and he wants to meet you guys.” “Whatever, Saturday 5:00 I’ll make dinner.” “Great, love you.” But she hung up on you before she could even hear you say “Love you.” You put out your cigarette and just sighed.
You told Ghost and he marked it on the calendar and the day came before you even knew it. You sighed as you got ready to go over. And he decided to wear his mask but he did dress decently to go over. He waited for you by the front door as he saw you putting on some shoes. He smiled and gave you loads of compliments.
The drive was around 15 minutes and when you knocked on the front door your sister opened it and practically shoved you inside just to get closer to Ghost.
“Hey I’m Samantha, you can call me Sam-” “Ghost. I think I’ll just call you Samantha.” She rolled her eyes and he just walked in and made sure you were okay. He never introduced himself as Ghost unless he wanted to intimidate or he didn’t like the person, you assumed he didn’t like your sister.
You lead him over to the dining room table and sat down next to him
You both waited for your mother to come sit with you guys before you ate and she came in around 2 minutes later with your father and your sister.
“Hm, You must be the unfortunate one. I’m her Mother just call me Teressa though and this is her Father, Michael.” He shook both of their hands. Now mind you they didn’t get a good look at how tall he was or how buff he was. Hell they haven’t seen his face.
“So what unfortunate events lead you to meet my shithole of a daughter?” Your mom asked nonchalantly and you took a deep breath and began to get some food.
“Not unfortunate at all, In fact she’s a catch. Met her at a bookstore.” Your sister scoffed and looked at Ghost and tried to rub up on him and he glared at her.
“A catch? She’s a lazy pile of shit. Nothing special about this one.” Your father spoke up and then you just stood up to excuse yourself to the porch outside. And your sister was still trying to hit on Ghost but he was just not having it.
“You’re all fucking pieces of shit, Samantha has been trying to seduce me since I got here and she’s fucking hideous! You’re a mother, act like it, or don’t even bother trying to reach out at all. And you..How could you talk about your own DAUGHTER like that? You’re a horrible excuse for a father.”
Samantha ran off to her room teary eyed and it seemed like your father stood up to intimidate Ghost but he was 5'9 and Ghost is 6'4 and he stood up after your father. He immediately sat down and just kicked him out as your own mother started to cry as well.
Ghost walked out and found you giggling because you heard him sticking up for you and he took you to the car and drove you both to an ice cream place to calm down after the events that took place.
You were so grateful for him, and he couldn’t live without you. So it’s a win-win situation. You love him and he loves you…Just not your family.
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I LOVED MAKING THIS AHHH!! Your requests never fail to impress me:)!
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geraldmariaivo · 2 years
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I recently saw a DP/DC post about Jason being Danny’s bio dad, and I want to spit out my own idea of it:
1) Jason doesn’t know he has a kid. He’ done a lot of shady things and met a lot of shady people, and you can’t tell me he remembers every night of it.
2) Danny knows he’s adopted, he just doesn’t care.  3) Danny suddenly has to care one day because of Ghost Prince legality reasons where he needs his parent/gaurdian to sign something important because he’s a child, and Clockwork refuses to. Obviously he can’t bring this to Jack&Maddie, and Jazz isn’t old enough to sign either, so he tries to find his biological parents to maybe only slightly bully this hapless civilian into signing a piece of paper that says Danny *can* sign things, and then fuck off. 
4) Danny sets off to find his bio-parents only to find that his mother is dead and not a ghost, and his father is somewhere in Gotham. Which is where the Bats are. 
5) With a bit of help from his court and Wulf, Danny scours the city to find whoever the hell this “Jason” is, because just knowing his first name clarifies very little in a city like Gotham.
6) A few of the court physicians accompanies this search party because they’re headed to Gotham, and there’s no telling what kind of bullshit will happen, even if there’s no ecto-weaponry within a hundred miles.
7) One of the oldest physicians encounters Red Hood, and is immediately revolted by the nasty-ass ectoplasm they haven’t seen since Pariah was locked up the first time. Naturally their first impulse is to get this absolutely wretched ectoplasm out of this human as soon as possible.
8) Jason, naturally, doesn’t trust this glowing green person who makes the Pit writhe and try to get away. As such, he makes getting any kind of ghostly medical attention as difficult as possible.
9) Medic #1 gives up doing it solo, and conscripts the other medical personnel to help them effectively pin Jason (now out of costume) down while they filter out the nasty shit and replace it with clean ectoplasm from the Realms so his body doesn’t go through shock from suddenly having no ectoplasm.
10) Jason is still riled up and suspicious as hell, but he does notice that the Pit isn’t really there anymore. There’s still something there, but it’s not the constant anger he’s learned to live with. It’s calm, almost peaceful, actually. It takes all of two seconds listening to them giving out instructions to realize that they’re behaving like actual, good doctors giving out real medical advice. They repeat themselves when needed, and make sure to go over the whole of their instructions thrice to make sure he knows what they’re saying. It’s incredibly weird for Jason, but if drinking this weird not-pit-water stuff once a week or if he’s craving it from this weird glowing container is what keeps the Pit from bothering him 24/7, then so be it.
11) Jason asks what the actual fuck these people are doing here, because Metas generally know to stay away from Gotham.
12) They explain that they’re ghosts, and that they’re with a search party looking for a man with the first name Jason, and is likely to have black hair, blue eyes, or both.
13) Jason immediately puts together that they’re looking for him, because he knows his life well enough that he knows there’s no hope that the Jason they’re looking for is some random civilian who happens to have black hair and blue eyes.
14) Jason asks why they want to find this man, and if they have a way to confirm whether or not the person they find is actually the person they’re looking for. He nearly has a stroke when they say that they need him to sign some important thing because his son -which, WHAT?!?! When did he have one of those?!?!?!- is the High Prince of the Infinite Realms, whatever the fuck that means, but can’t sign official documents into law since he’s a minor.
15) Jason, against his better judgement, tells them his name, and says it’s possible that he’s the Jason they’ve been looking for.
16) He is right.
17) Jason has to grapple with the fact that he not only had a son he didn’t know about, but the son also died before he could meet the kid, and then apparently became the prince of the dead. 
18) Somewhere in this time, Danny (as Phantom) finds out about the nasty Lazarus water from his physicians, and tells Jason that Amity Park is a place where he can find much better ectoplasm if the man needs it for health reasons, and that he just needs to contact the right people. Preferably one of the local vigilantes rather than the Drs. Fenton.
Timeskip (how far depends on what you want to do in the meantime)
19) Red Hood goes to Amity park on Bat business. This is where Danny and Jason each find out about the clusterfuck that is the other’s life.
20) Shenanigans.
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contlis12 · 8 months
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Male Feedee and Genderless Feeder dark feederism short story
Cole groggily came to feelings his feeder lifting his legs with the straps they had installed in the bedroom after Cole had passed the 550 pound mark and changing and cleaning was becoming more of an issue. Pushing the massive parachute sized white underwear half way up his thighs ready to squeeze them past his sagging hips when they finally got him standing. As his feeder was slipping on his bariatric soft socks over his plump feet Cole asked almost nervously “why are you dressing me already? I haven’t even had my first feeding yet” his feeder just chuckled sweetly. “Oh we are going to do your breakfast out on the couch today, you are going to need the energy you’ll be busy today” they said rubbing lotion into the crevasses of Coles fat struggling to keep him from getting any bed rash or chub rub spending so long in bed and being so unhealthy and massively fat. Coles walk or more accurately waddle to the living room couch was eventful to say the least at one point Cole had broken down in tears begging to go to back to bed and that he couldn’t make it to the couch and had to be taken in his bariatric wheel chair the rest of the way to the couch. “There piggy I know this was hard and you are really cranky from being hungry so I’m going to make sure your belly is aching after this feast and you feel all better baby” and they weren’t exaggerating. Giant bowls heaped to the top with gravy and biscuits, greasy hashbrowns swimming in ketchup, even glazed doughnuts with slices of American cheese melted on the top of them. Coles feeder loved listening to him retch in pain so full his stomach is screaming to expel the food to make room and then greedily scarfing down the next bite making guttural gulping and snorts as he loses control plunging his mouth into the greasy low quality slop he’s been conditioned to love. After what seemed like hours Coles feeder had considered it satisfactory and let the pig stop eating and left in a messy ketchup and gravy covered mess. Grinning they came over and softly rubbed the sagging slab of fat that Coles gut had grown into a huge stretch mark covered waterfall of fat going nearly to his knees. “That’s such a good job piggy, I’m glad you ate plenty so you have the energy to entertain your friends tonight”. 
Coles already thudding heart started racing even faster as his food fogged brain started to realize what his feeder had just said. “Whu-what do you mean?” Cole stammered looking down at his feeder now with their head resting on his stomach looking  sweetly up at him. “Oh I invited your friends out to finally visit with you again, they all missed you so much so I kept up with them for you and set up a surprise visit honey” Coles mouth dropped open as he seen the glint in his feeders eyes as they drank in the absolute shock on his face. “I’m tired of you not giving me my due recognition Cole, you lay in my house pigging out all day eating up my money and you’ve never once told anybody how proud you were to be my piggy and grow for me. You try and hide that body I’ve grown and I’m due some respect and you to be a little more grateful” Cole began to let the words tumble out of his still open mouth “I-I-uh” his feeder puts a finger up to his lips. “Don’t speak because I don’t care, you need to learn how to give in this relationship and you are going to start by letting all your friends see what I’ve grown you into and how happy you are that I was kind enough to pick you for all this affection and time”. Cole hoped this was another role play scenario his feeder, there’s no way that this could be real. “They are going to be here in about 15 minutes or less. They texted me they were close to town towards the end of your breakfast. I was hoping to have you better dressed but there’s no way we could even get you into the bathroom that fast much less cleaned up and I need to welcome everyone in since you can’t open the door or really do anything but sit there and eat ofcourse” Coles eyes widened as he looked down and seen his massive exposed food stained body. His underwear were almost completely swallowed by his cascading waterfall of fat his body had turned into, if you didn’t look close you’d assume him nude. “Please you can’t do this to me! I can’t face people I used to know in this state!” Cole wailed eyes streaming tears that mixed with the ketchup staining his bloated fat puffy cheeks. “Oh I can’t? Okay Cole go walk to the bedroom and get yourself dressed” his feeder said coldly armed crossed smiling. “I can’t! You know I can’t!” His feeder walked over looming over him sitting on the couch “exactly so stop telling me what we are going to do piggy! You are going to learn your place, you are out of control princess!” They said grinning ear to ear at this point. “Now beg me, ask me like a pathetic hog since you’ve ate your manners away with your self control”. “Please I’m sorry can I get cleaned up and clothes” he said angry and totally mentally drained at this point knowing this wasn’t going to stop. “No” his feeder immediately replied “you are going to learn to respect me piggy, but I’ll let you have a shirt”.
Coles three closets friends all pilled out of the van they’d rode in from the airport in. “I can’t believe Coles partner paid for all our tickets here and everything! I mean seriously that guy is lucky to have a partner with those kind of expenses.” Mike said to Kayla “Yeah nice house too, must have been an old couples or something before. There aren’t even steps just a wheel chair ramp”. “I’m just glad to see the guy again, it’s been over two years since he moved out here with them and he barely kept touch. Honestly kind of annoying” Danny said following them up the ramp. “Oh stop Danny, you know how life can be. I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it, at least the old gang is back for a few days!” Kayla said as she rung the door bell on the large oversized double door that seemed way too big for a suburban single level home. Coles feeder answered the door “Hey guys! Hope the flight wasn’t too bad” as they helped them bring everyones bags in. “No not at all, so where’s Cole? I can’t wait to see him!” Kayla said looking at the kitchen that’s as near the entrance to the home. Where those funnels on the wall? Surprising that they are still doing beer bongs at this point but who is Kayla to judge, they all used to party with Cole alot. Coles feeder smiles “oh he’s in the living room watching tv” as she points to the next room. Kayla is the first to walk into the living room and Danny walls face first into her back as she completely stops in her tracks “what the hell Kayla?” He starts to say as he hears Kayla say “Cole? Cole?” And I raspy breathy voice responds “yea hi Kayla” Danny peers around her shoulders to see Cole and nearly drops his jaw on the floor as he accidentally lets a “oh my god” without even realizing he had said it out loud. Looking at what he is told is his old friend he can’t believe it. He wasn’t even sure if the thing melting into that couch was male. Coles huge stretch mark stomach hung obscenely out of the too small shirt his feeder had pulled over his torso that barley even covered his belly button. “Yeah I kind of gained a lot of weight” Cole said staring down at the floor to embarrassed to even meet his friends eyes “uhh yeah you’ve gained some weight” Mike said finally after standing silently behind the other two “are you doing okay buddy?” He said walking towards the pile of fat that spilled off the sagging couch. “Yeah I just have a- I have an eating disorder I think” he said nervously. His feeder stepped into the room behind them “Cole has had some issues in the past we are trying to work on and even spoke about this morning but let’s not worry about that now. You guys are old friends! Sit down please you guys need to catch up!” Coles feeder said putting a hand on Mikes shoulder “he always talked about you guys so much”. The three friends looked at each other concerned before Mike spoke up “ofcourse no need to dwell on this negative stuff I’m just happy we are all together. It’s always good to see old friends”.
The evening had gone well until the pizza Coles feeder had ordered had arrived. His feeder had came in the room with a tv tray and a few boxes of pizza as they started laying slice after slice of pizza in a large dinner bowl. “I got you the extreme pepperoni lovers with extra extra cheese you like honey, I know you are starving. Let me get your ranch” coming in the room with a huge bottle of ranch Coles friends stare in amazement as Coles feeder starts squirting messy cup fulls of ranch all over the pizza that was messily thrown into the bowl
“Now eat fast because you have a lot more to finish babe” they say as they give Coles belly a hard open palmed smack after filling the bowl to the max. “Do you really think he should be eating that?” Mike says as Coles feeder starts walking back to the kitchen. “Excuse me?” Coles feeder says still holding the massive bottle of ranch. “I said do you think he should eat all of that?” Mike said pointing at Cole. “I mean seriously what was that? Look at that pile of cheese and ranch! You are killing him!” Mike says raising his voice.  Kayla puts a hand on his arm “Mike” as he pulls away. “No Kayla it isn’t right! They are killing him and enabling him with this weird fucking fetish! Look at him!”. Danny stands up beside Mike “He’s right Kayla, it’s obvious this is some weird feeder kink thing and they are enabling Cole. This is just as bad as somebody handing an alcoholic beer Kayla.” Coles feeder puts their hands on their hips and surveys them all. “Do you think he doesn’t want this? Coles happier than he has ever been being my feedee” they walk over squirting an even more obscene amounts of ranch on his pizza as they grin at Coles friends “Do you want more piggy?” Coles feeder coos pinching Coles double chin “or maybe your friends are right maybe we should put you on a diet” Cole weakly clutches at his feeders shirt “please feed me I’m so hungry piggy wants more” Coles feeder picks up a messy handful of the ranch covered pizza and holds it up to his nose. In a moment Cole is digging his face into the messy pizza slop making obscene oinking and gasps “feed me please I’m a good piggy grow my belly!” Feeling his feeders fingers push the pizza over his tongue.
Mike huffs in disgust “fine, I’m not being a part of this weird fetish bullshit. Have fun eating yourself to death Cole. I really hope you get some help but I think you are too far gone” as he walks into the entryway grabbing his bag and walking to the street “I’m calling an Uber”. Danny stands without saying anything besides “Bye Cole” and following Mike out to the porch. Kayla walks over absolutely disgusted about what is happening before her “Cole please, we can get you help. You aren’t going to live like this. You aren’t happy, you can’t be” Coles feeder pulls the slop away from his face “what do you think honey ready to leave me and get help?”. Coles eyes roll as he looks at Kayla’s distraught and disgusted face “Piggy needs feeding tube, so hungry” is all Cole moans in response. Coles feeder grins at Kayla “want to help”. Kayla looks at Cole one last time “Fuck you” she says to Coles feeder before looking down at Cole “bye Cole, good luck” before walking out of the front double door to join her friends waiting for their Uber as she wonders if Cole will even be able to fit out of them by the next year.
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yourpsicodelicbitch · 10 months
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Ascendants at different degrees 🦚🦢 pt 3
hii, hope you have a beautiful day✨🧚‍♀️ i don’t have an excuse for my delay post but ty so much for all the support AAAAAAAAA😭❤️
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Alexandra Levasseur
Ascendant at Gemini degree (3°, 15° or 27°)
they’re hyperactive. They have so much to say bc their mind is a work of overthinking. they have A LOT of ideas that they want to put it into words but can be difficult for them. Every type of process takes them longer or feels longer than what others will express, bc while doing it they’re thinking and thinking, it’s a cycle. Their profession could be related to “communicate” if that’s too obvious HAKDBA. but in every manner, that’s their passion, their need. making songs, advising, doesn’t matter what’s the career, the meaning or the need is present. their purpose is to put those ideas into words and those meanings the words own, reach out to more people. As I said in another post, I have a friend that has Gemini degree at his ascendant and breaths music, but I haven’t mentioned other people Ik that doesn’t represent the conventional example: she is a psychologist, she attracts people when she talks and her charisma. But it’s obvious how they struggle to communicate or it’s not easy to make themselves understood. That’s why they prefer to analyze others or to speak up through a non conventional way. I’ve seen that since ever they have difficulties with educational system, they’re too bored and intelligent -hyperactive- to adapt. what others say and how they process it is interesting…
Ascendant at Libra degree (7° or 19°)
their face is symmetrical. they’re pretty good at giving advice, comes naturally to them. they look “put together”, that they have their things to do, their schedule. they’re not direct -with my friend that have libra degree at their ascendant, I have to ask them specific questions with the objective of reading their mind. For example, I ask if they like my outfit and they’re making rare expressions and saying “YeS” with a rare tone, so I ask them “you don’t like it?” and they don’t say something clear-. I have to interpretate more than listening to a clear answer. Taking care of their appearance it’s essential, if they don’t like it, they’ll change -appearance matters-. You’ll see them owning a lot of makeup products but they look or use a “natural” look/makeup -if they use it-. They don’t try to be too “unique” or attract attention in a way that could be seen as unconventional/rare, they follow tendencies that could be seen as basic but for them it’s more than enough. growing up they could have cared too much about what others think. They could have lived or are still living without questioning themselves what are they doing with their lives, not realizing they’re part of a system and that they’re an individual. in other words, they could have had ignored how they were living, they were “vibing” but have never stopped and asked themselves “what am I doing?”. And if they had, they conformed themselves bc they didn’t want a change, to be “accepted”.
Ascendant at Aquarius degree (11° or 23°)
they’re THE bitch. they know their worth. their passion or what calls their heart is to be someone in the society we live, to make a change. people will prejudge and have a wrong idea of them: they’re loners, they’re mean and they only think about themselves, they’re egoists. only bc they don’t try to be as everyone, only bc they’re not people pleasers and they’re true to themselves, doesn’t mean they’re egoists. In reality, all their thoughts end up on the same final: to help the fcking humanity. it sounds cliche, it’s too cringe for them to admit it ⛓️🖤 since their childhood, they have been exposed to information that showed problematics in the world. they process information logically bc their surroundings taught them to, suppressing their emotions. they search for solutions logically, they could suffer for explaining what are their needs without judging themselves. they could be bad at advising bc they’re struggling to even comfort themselves. trough all their life, they have doubts or not an stable self-esteem: god complex. ik its impossible to not mention this phrase for an Aquarius placement: they have had and have difficulties feeling part of a community, to not feel lonely -not alone bc it refers to be “physical by yourself”-. They could be feeling really lonely but they sabotage themselves remaining they don’t have to feel, like a robot. they’re complimented by their style💋 unique
Ascendant at Sagittarius degree (9° or 21°)
they’re chill, they take things as they come -or that’s how they appear-. they’re calm but calm that can take a joke that’s supposed to be offensive and they’re sarcastic about it. it’s like they’re mosquitos around and they have repellent -the best example 🤩-. STILL they’re pretty sensitive. I think they try to be as calm as they seem to not worry their mother/parental figure with all the struggles they’ve had. They tried to be their sunshine: they are but as time passes they converted these behavior on a mask, hiding how they feel really. They vibe. surprisingly, they’re not chaotic or histrionic, it’s like they’re good, like “meh” good BUT sure they have their moments. change my mind, they’re or “calm you should be afraid of it” or they don’t give a shit but in a “dog that needs to be taken for a walk way to waste that energy” -as a sag placement i recognize and reaffirm 🤓☝️ i need to be taken for a walk like the bitch I am, that’s an horrible jk god-. They remind me of a taurus ascendant but they actually don seek comfort and if they do, their whole life is about going out of their comfort zone bc of their drive of wanting to know more. they actually know, even though they’re not scorpios, they know shit and let things happen naturally. in other words, they have acknowledged that if they tell people what’s happening it’s not gonna hit them as how it’ll if they live it. and they’re loyal, they’ll tell their friends or loved ones but they won’t control the situation. their life is about experiencing things instead on basing themselves on other experiences, they want to know and the diversity of perspectives is a whole galaxy to explore for them. again, it’s not about professions, it’s about their passion. people would judge and say “they’re players and blabla” could be right but that’s not the point, they experience to grow and they’re not afraid of not being perfect -and if they’re they try and they’re brave-.
—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•
❀ Based on my personal experience and what I’ve analyzed in my surroundings.
❀ English is not my first language.
❀ I’m not a profesional astrologer, I just love astrology and I’m willing to learn.
Thank youu. baibaiii🫣🫶🏼💋
Do not copy. Please give me credits.
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The Missed Deadline
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Gaz/FReader - virginity pact, childhood besties, explicit consent
AO3 Link
You and Kyle had a pact. Ever since you were teenagers, you pinky promised that if you were still virgins by the time you turned 21, you’d do it together. He’d gone off to war and lost his virginity immediately, but when he comes back to help his mum for the holiday, he learns that you still have yours, and you’re way past your deadline. 
!!! MDNI/18+ NO EXCEPTIONS !!
To anyone who has not yet lost their virginity: THIS IS FICTION AND IT IS NOT A GUIDEBOOK. Fuck responsibly, everyone.
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You couldn’t believe your eyes. Your neighbor, Mrs. Garrick, had been moving all of her old furniture into storage, prepping for a huge remodel, and now, here he was. He was back. It had been years since you’d seen him. 
“Marco?” You called out from your open bedroom window.
He looked around for a moment, resting after helping move a dresser out of the front door, so you called again,
“Up here!”
He looked up at your window, and his face lit up when he found you. 
“Polo? Bloody hell. It’s you,” his face softened with amused wonder, and he started to take off his leather work gloves, “I’m coming up!”
Kyle moved through your garden in the same way he always had, ever since you were kids. You heard your front door open, and then you listened as his heavy boots trod up the stairs, and finally, you watched the old brass knob to your room turn, pop, and open with a soft creak. 
He stood there in the doorway, one hand still on the knob, frozen in time. Only, he was much older than he should’ve been. 
He should have been 15 again, showing you how to work a two-way radio so you could play recon with him in the fields next to your house. 
He should have been 16, trying to learn how to kiss, telling you and himself that you were just doing it to practice, that it didn’t have to mean anything. 
He should have been 17, sitting on your bed, head in his hands, telling you he’d joined the army and that he didn’t know when he was coming back, but that he had fallen for you and he knew that you couldn’t be together. 
He should’ve been 18, back from basic training, telling you about all of his adventures, asking if you still liked him, making you promise that if you were both still virgins when you turned 21, you’d lose it together. 
But, now, here he was, 22 and staring at you, making you feel like you were still 15, making promises to him that you were never meant to keep. 
“Marco,” you whispered, standing up and reaching out for him.
“Polo,” he whispered back, crossing the room to hold you in his arms. 
He was wearing a tee shirt without its sleeves, sweaty and dirty from moving furniture all day, and he stared down at you like he expected you to kiss him. Remembering himself, he broke the hug and moved back, suddenly aware of his body in your small space.
You went through the little dance you were supposed to do: hi - hi - how are things - how’s school - how’s your mum - blah, blah, blah. It was nothing, and you knew it was nothing, and so did he. So, you stopped. 
“Did you keep your promise, then?” You knew he hadn’t. He was a grown man in the army for fuck’s sake. 
He blushed, and shook his head,
“No, I didn’t. Go a little carried away on leave with the lads once or twice.”
“With the lads, hm?” You teased him.
“No! I mean, it was ladies. But, uh, it was also lads. Sometimes. Uh…Christ,” he rubbed his hands down his face in embarrassment. 
You raised your eyebrows and smiled wide,
“Ah! So, you have been practicing, haven’t you?”
He grinned,
“Yep. Just rehearsing for the big performance. How about you?”
He grabbed a towel from the stack by your closet, knowing where you kept them and put it on the bed so he wouldn’t get your sheets dirty when he sat down on them. The mattress creaked under his weight. You could smell his sweat and laundry detergent. 
You shook your head,
“None for me. Just haven’t found the right one, I guess.”
Kyle gasped,
“You’re past due, Polo. What are we gonna do with you?”
“Throw me out?” You laughed, trying to ease the tension.
The tension did not ease. He was so close to you, and he was staring at you in a new way, studying you like he didn’t know you by heart. 
You reached out to touch his cheek, finding a fresh scar on it where there had not been one before. You felt his skin shudder so gently beneath your touch, and his breathing quickened. You rubbed the scar with your thumb like you would a stain, trying to get it out. Then, he lunged for you, kissing you deeply, so different and so much more sure of himself than he had been at 16, 17, and 18. All of those kisses tasted just like this one though, and the memory of your feelings for him came rushing back, fresh as the day they were borne. 
You remembered when you had decided you were in love with Kyle Garrick. He was about to turn 16, and you and he and a few of his friends had gone down to Brighton beach for the day to celebrate. You’d played Marco Polo in the waves, blind, hands out, feeling for bodies in the current. You were Polo and he was Marco this time, and you were swimming away from him, but a wave caught you and shoved you into him. He had wrapped you in his arms to steady you, and since you were the only girl, he knew it was you. 
He’d lingered on you with his eyes still wrenched shut, rubbing his palms down your body, touching your breasts beneath the water, cupping your ass and touching your belly. You’d lingered on him as well, getting as far as the band of his pants before the next wave hit and broke you apart. You’d swam to shore together, and you didn’t speak for the rest of the day, but you had stared at each other like your life depended on it. Enthralled.
That next evening, while your parents were out at dinner, you’d used the two-way radio to call him over, but you couldn’t help yourself, and you called him “Marco.” When he called you “Polo,” you knew he liked you, and that was enough. 
He broke the kiss, and he whispered into your gasping mouth, 
“I’m sorry, I just… I wanted to… sorry…”
“Are you going to make good on your promise, Marco?” You tested him.
His gaze shot up to find yours, and you got lost in the deep chocolate brown of his wide, bright eyes. He was searching for the jest and finding only earnestness.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I think it should be you. Seems right. You don’t have to… be with me or anything. I get that you have your army thing, and I don’t want to distract you from that, but I —”
“No,” he said, shoving a stake through your heart. Or at least it felt like it. 
“No?” You confirmed, praying you’d heard the simplest word wrong.
“No, I mean, not like this. Tonight. What are you doing tonight?”
“Tonight? Nothing. I was just here helping bring my mum’s things to her sister’s house. She lives there now, and I’m watching their place while I’m on holiday from uni. Didn’t even plan to stay this afternoon, but I can.”
“Tonight, let me take you to Five and Ten,” he stood up suddenly, straightening himself out, looking proper as he could in his mess of work clothes. 
“Why? You don’t have to do all that. Just forget I said —”
“Please. Let me take you. Six o’clock. I’ll drive us.”
So, he did. You wore an old dress from when you were young, and you thanked all the gods that it still fit. He looked much sharper than you in a burgundy suit and a shining tie. He’d become quite fashionable in his adulthood, it seemed.
The food was exquisite, and he ordered expensive wine. Kyle held your door and pulled out your chair, and he even paid for the whole meal. It was magical. You’d only been on a few dates, but this one blew the others way out of the water. 
At the end of the night, you ended up back where you started. The towel was still on the bed. But, now, you were in your dress clothes and he was in his, and you were just as nervous as you were when you were 16. 
“Look,” he said, placing his hands on your shoulders, speaking softly as though you weren’t the only people in the house, “I need you to know that this stops the moment you say it does. If you think, even for a moment, that you need me to stop, all you have to do is say so and it stops. Okay?”
“Okay,” you sounded unsure. 
“Hey,” he took your chin in his hands and lifted your face to his, “We don’t need to do this. I loved… I had a wonderful time tonight, and I’m happy. You’ve made me the happiest man alive. Please don’t say yes just because you think —”
“Kyle,” you dropped his nickname in favor of his real one, needing him to know you were serious, “I want to, if you want to.”
“Bloody hell, I want to,” he groaned. 
It was all a rush, then. He was kissing you, and you were pulling off his coat. He was running his huge hands across your bare back, and you were tugging at his buttons. He was laying you on the bed, and pulling off your heels. You were unzipping him and unzipping you and unfurling into each other like two roses blooming face to face, your petals bending and pushing and mixing and slipping together as you opened and opened and opened to each other. 
Finally, there you were, naked and shaking. He paused, whispering to you,
“Marco?”
You smiled, kissing his full lips to taste your memories again, 
“Polo.” You whispered back. 
He kissed down your neck,
Marco?
Polo.
He took one of your nipples into his mouth and began to suckle from it, pulling the skin and nipping at your taut nub. 
Marco?
Polo.
Traveling down your belly…
Marco?
Polo.
Licking up the side of your navel…
Marco?
Polo.
Burying his nose in your folds and taking in a long, deep breath…
Marco?
Polo.
He plunged his mouth onto you and ate you like he was still hungry, like he hadn’t had dinner, like he’d never tasted anything so good in his whole goddamn life. All of the lapping and the laving and the sucking came to a crescendo again and again. Adding a finger, he began to stretch you open. He was careful with you, too careful. 
“Kyle,” you rubbed his shaved head encouragingly, “Another, babe. Please.”
The groan that came out of his mouth sent powerful vibrations through your body. You felt him add another finger, and the delicious stretch that came from it made your core flood with wet, hot slick. 
“You’re so wet. So good,” he moaned against your lips.
“Will you… please?” You begged, not sure how to ask for what you wanted.
Kyle smiled,
“Still impatient as ever, Polo. You haven’t changed.”
You whined, begging with a twist of your hips and your body. 
“Shh, shh, baby,” he kissed your pussy again, wetting his lips on you, “Gotta open you up for me.”
You arched your back as he sucked on the tight nerves of your clit, pulling an orgasm from you as his fingers pumped inside of you, creating wet noises that filled the quiet room. Your moans and his breaths became your call and his response, and the more you rocked your hips against his jaws, the hungrier he seemed to become. Eventually, his tongue joined his fingers, feeding itself into your clenching hole as a third member, stretching you through your pleasure, readying your body for his intrusion. 
“God,” you reached down to him, searching for a hand to hold, “Oh, my God.”
He grabbed your hand tightly, holding you as you trembled against his mouth.
Finally, he was satisfied, and you were deeply pliant, dripping for him, and you felt the warmth pool inside you. You felt ready. 
He positioned himself between your legs and lay his cock along your pussy lips and up onto your belly, showing you its length. You put your hands on him, touching his hardness. Kyle whimpered, shocking you with the noise he made, steadying himself on your hips, breathing hard. 
“Are you going to put it in me?” You whispered, hearing your voice but not realizing you were saying the words. 
“Yeah, baby, I am,” he promised, “You ready?”
You nodded, watching as he placed his head at your entrance, feeling the pressure he applied as he pushed forward. The first inch or two felt wonderful, but it was nothing out of the ordinary. It wasn’t until he sank deeper into your pussy that you started to feel the pressure he was creating with his girth. It stung, and then, there was a quick release. He slipped forward, no longer impeded, and he caught himself, aware of you and your pain.
He was gasping, trying to hold himself back,
“Are you alright?”
“Yeah, I’m okay,” you pulled him into a long kiss, bending your hips to encourage him.
“Fuck, okay, okay…” he groaned, pushing into you deeper. 
He moved slowly, carefully, and with his gaze pinned to your face, watching for any signs of pain or displeasure. His hand worked your clit for you, building your pleasure as your body experienced this new, full sensation. You felt like you were using muscles within you that you’d never used before. 
Unable to hold himself together, he rested his nose and mouth in the crook of your neck, kissing you, whining for you, telling you a million sweet nothings about how good you were and how you were making him feel. You cradled his head, enjoying all of the sensations he was crafting within you, hanging on every word.  
The way that your body was taking him was painful at first, but the fullness had made up for it. You reveled in the sensation of his cock’s hardness as it parted your walls. You had an implant, and you were looking forward to feeling his come in you.
“Can you go faster?” You asked into his ear, ready for another orgasm and needing his help. 
He looked up at you like you had asked him something impossible, or at least something insane, and he furrowed his brow, cupping your chin in his palm, looking into your eyes to see if you were telling the truth. 
“I can, baby,” he kissed you, sucking your bottom lip between his, licking against your tongue like an invitation.
“Please…” you begged. 
“Mmmnghh,” he cried, forcing his hips to thrust into you with a quicker rhythm, listening to the wet slapping noises it made on your body. 
The bed creaked, and you watched as his whole body contributed to his work. His strong core and huge shoulders helped him rut into you, and you could see the red flush coating his cheeks and neck. His intensity was making you feel like you were static, like you could call down lightning to strike you at any moment.
“Kyle, oh, fuck… you’re making me come. Fuck!” You called out for him, feeling yourself tumbling over the edge from his new speed. 
“You’re making me come,” he growled, staring down at where you were joined together, his huge body tensing like he was trying to hold onto you in a torrential storm, like you would fly away from him if he didn’t hold you tight. 
You tried to hold back, but you clenched down around him, unable to help your reaction. He thrust forward once, and then once more, in a stuttering, slow fashion, and you felt his come pulse into you, hot and sticky. It was subtle, but enjoyable, and you clenched again to draw out another sigh. 
“Fuck, that was… it was perfect. Your pussy is perfect, baby. Holy shit. You held me just right. I’m so sorry, I couldn’t stop it,” he was mumbling, still thrusting in and out of you as he softened, trying his best to calm down. 
You ran your hands across his wide chest,
“Thank you for keeping your promise.”
“Wanna make another one?” He smiled down at you, kissing you as he slid out of your body, turning you over so he could hold you close to him.
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tvgals · 11 months
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‘ I’LL WAIT FOR YOU..’
— e1610! miles morales x miguels daughter! reader
summary — ; your dad killed the anomaly, — plus the so called love of your life — miles morales, years ago. so why is he in your bedroom?
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you hated your father, despised him even. he claimed your boyfriend at the time was an anomaly and the two of you were never supposed to meet, resulting in your father killing him. he killed an innocent, sweet 15 year old boy who just wanted to save his own father. now his mom has no one to turn to. you haven’t spoken to your dad since that faithful day two years ago, no matter how many conversations he tried to start, no matter what he bought you or made for you — you couldn’t bring yourself to talk to him. you kept every sweater, every drawing and every trinket miles ever gave to you, anything to remember him by.
you were walking home from school, you could’ve rode home with your father, but you said no to his offer — not wanting to be in the car with a murderer. you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket and turn it on it was miguel. you answer and wait for him to speak. “y/n?” miguel mumbles into the phone. “huh?” “get home.” his voice is shaky and low — almost out of breath like he’d been running. “why would i listen to you?” you snarl, clutching the phone. “just get here.” you sighed out an “okay.” and walked faster to your house, hoping it wasn’t anything serious and miguel was just being dramatic. you made it just 10 minutes after you and miguel’s phone call and you can feel something off before you even opened the door. you twisted the knob and walked in, silently closing the door behind you. you take off your shoes and walk down the hall, your bedroom door shut. weird. you open it and peek your head into the room, seeing miles sit on your bed. your breath hitches in your throat. this wasn’t real.
“miles?” you whispered out. this wasn’t your miles. you knew it. he looked older, his eyes still holding the same sparkle it did years ago. “oh my god.” you choked out, rushing over to him and pulling him into a hug. “how did you get here?” you ask him, putting his face into your hands and examining it. “i mean, i went through a portal and now i’m here.” miles shrugged as if it was so big deal.
“okay..okay..” you sighed out, as if you were out of breath. this was so…unreal. “stay here. don’t move.” you tell him, walking out the bedroom and closing the door. you close the door and turn around, running into miguel’s chest. shit. “dad! what’re you doing?” you ask nervously, tapping the heel of your foot. you look at miguel’s hand to see a contraption looking somewhat similar to a gun.
“what’s that for?” you ask, clenching your jaw. “i have to get rid of him, y/n.” miguel says, his voice low and intimating. “what? no. you don’t even know what universe he’s from! he just got here!” you plead, tears welling in your eyes as you spoke. “exactly. he could be something dangerous.” miguel tells you, trying to push past you to open the door. “dad, no! please! just give me an hour with him, please!” you begged, tears cascading down your cheeks. “an hour.” miguel agrees. you thank him and open the door, locking it behind you.
“we have to go.” you say to miles hurriedly, taking two bags and stuffing whatever clothes you could find. miles eyes go wide and he lets out an airy chuckle. “wha? i just got here!” miles said, his infamous grin making its way into his face. “i know, i know. just take this and come on. “okay.” miles chuckles nervously. he grabs the bag and follows you out of your window. you didn’t have a plan and neither did miles — all you knew is that you had to get out of there and never turn back.
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