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jellyfishsthings · 8 months ago

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Nerves and Stolen Kisses

I have been toying with the idea of writing a fic about him for quite sometime and after last weekend I just had to. Estelle ( Ollie's rumoured gf is mentioned here but it is a fake relationship for PR reasons.) Also Paul Aron has a gf... friends to lovers trope.

Shoutout to @httpiastri for the inspiration

The Saudi Arabian Grand Prix was fast approaching. And Ollie was a jumble of nerves and excitement as usual. Since the early hour of the day, he opened the curtains letting the sun into the room and you groaned into the pillow.

“Wakey wakey, sleepyhead. Come on, we have a whole day ahead of us.”

“No, you do. I don't know why I came.”

“Because I am your bestest friend and I paid for your ticket and let you stay with me.”

“Both of which are for your benefit.”

“Come on….”

“Fine.” You say with a dejected sigh as you get up and you both get ready for the day. David, Ollie's dad was already waiting for you and you headed towards the paddock.

Everything was a frenzy and was passing by so quickly. As Ollie got into the garage and got ready for the quali you headed towards the stands trying to find Cassie, Paul's long-term girlfriend. Throughout the years you have formed a unique friendship. She was the only one who knew about your crush on Ollie and she teased you endlessly about it. Ollie and you had been best friends for the better part of your life, joint to the hip, having endless sleepovers, even if Dad didn't approve.

It was an endless nightmare being close enough to get a taste of all the what ifs, but never experiencing them.

“Do you and your lover boy share a room, huh?”

“It's not like that and you know it, Cassandra.”

“Yeah, it hurts, doesn't it?”

“So much. You have no idea. Yesterday I couldn't sleep and as the hours passed, he came closer and closer. He ended up holding me in his sleep. And I felt so bad because of Estelle. I know that they aren't really together and it's for PR, but still, I feel awful because technically I am the other woman… and she is just so nice and sweet. Never overstepping, I think she knows.”

We both stay quiet after that as the session continues.

“You know… whatever the case. You both love each other, platonically or not.”

“Yeah, I know.” I say as I watch the times set by all the drivers, Ollie having the fastest one yet.

“Looks like your man is on pole.”

We both make our way through the paddock, trying to pass the roaring sea of fans and we hand out already-signed autographs to anyone who asks for them. When we finally arrive, we part ways, before making promises about having dinner together at a restaurant Cassie wanted to try. And I head towards the Prema garage finding two beaming Bearmans, hugging.

“Hey Bear. Did you drive fast enough?” You call at him. And he grins like an idiot before swooping you into a tight hug spinning you. His laughter echoes in your ears as he sets you down.

“Yeah I drove fast enough, you minx.”

“Good. Now let's go. We are having dinner with Paul and Cassie in four hours and I want to see the city.”

“Give me five minutes to change and we are good to go.”

The afternoon is spent visiting local stores, trying to communicate in scrappy English and making terrible puns with products or street names. When they finally head to the restaurant their sides hurt from laughing. Dinner passed by as quickly as it came. As everyone says, time flies by when you are with the people you love.

Just as they open the door for their hotel room, Ollie flops in the bed as you head towards your computer and open it as hoards of emails and messages appear on the screen. Great more deadlines and essays to write until the end of the week.

“Leave it. We can pretend that we have nothing to do and watch a movie or local TV and try to understand what the hell is going on.”

“Thanks Bear. But I can't, as tempting as your offer is. Go to sleep, I will join you soon.”

And so you sit in front of your computer, ending essay after essay, sending them on time, until your eyes hurt from the pale blue light. The bed seems more welcoming than ever before as Ollie starfishes the entire length of it and his soft snores fill the empty space. Yeah, maybe it's time to call it a day.

An awful sound echoes in the room and eventually wakes you.

“I swear if it's one more ad I will jump from the window.” You grumble into your pillow as you steal the blankets and turn yourself into a burrito.

Ollie hisses as he opens his phone only to find a ton of messages and many missed calls from Ferrari. He dials Fred back as he moves towards the bathroom, trying to let you steal a few more minutes of much needed sleep.

When he emerges back in the room he sits down in front of you, his back supported on the bed.

“Ols, what's going on?”

“Carlos has an appendix”

“Oh no. Is he having surgery?”

“Yeah.” He says softly. “They want me to replace him.”

“What?” At that you are fully awake. Your hair is a netted nest and you look at him in shock. He looks at you, you his best friend who would look like a mess to anyone else but to him you look like the most beautiful and amazing creature in the world. Your mere presence has a more calming effect on him than anything else. If it weren't for you, he would have already lost his mind. “How? When? I…”

“We need to get to the paddock, if I don't want to miss FP3. I will wake up Dad and break the news to him.”

Soon after you enter the paddock and thousands of reporters try to get a better look at Ollie, flashing their cameras at you and bombarding you with questions as you make your way to the Ferrari garage and mechanics steal Ollie from you and David as they set to work quickly. David looks pale and sick as he paces into the garage trying to control his nerves through the FP3 and the Quali. When Ollie finally got off the car when he scored the 11th place, missing Q2 only by 3 hundreds of a second, you knew that this was it. He was finally shining like the bright star he was. He had done more than enough, his raw talent showing with barely one hour to get used to the car. And as mechanics and reporters closed around him. You couldn't help but feel like you didn't belong here. Where did you fit in? The reality hit you and it hit you hard. You hid in the back corners of the garage, eyes glued to the screen as everyone passed by without acknowledging you. You would happily hide in the shadows where he shined but this world wasn't meant for you. The anxiety was picking up at you, eating you alive from the inside.

And when Ollie got too close to the wall, your heart stopped beating. He was driving a car that was twice as fast and twice as dangerous than his normal F2 car. It was too much. The sound, the danger, everything really. Breathing suddenly seemed so hard and you needed a way out. As you hide behind the garage you call the one person who could understand. Terri picks up in the second ring her soft voice already calming you.

“Hey love. Is everything alright?”

“How do you do it? How can you stand back and do nothing?”

“You love him, don't you sweetheart?”

“I thought it was obvious.”

“Well … no I always hoped but… whatever the case, to answer your question you simply do it, you just have to. A driver needs his support system and you are it for him. You are his forever person, whether that is romantically or not. He needs to be near you and as much nervous as you are, so is he. Without you he would be lost, believe me I know my son. And I can bet you that as much as your heart breaks right now, you are also immensely proud.”

“Of course I am. But where do I fit in, in this world.”

“Right beside him, love.”

“Thanks Terri. Please call David. I think he is losing his mind and he is sick with worry.” You say chuckling before saying your goodbyes and head back towards the garage. The session is already over and Ollie is nowhere in sight.

Ollie plays with the power button of his phone trying to calm down but to no avail. The lock screen is a photo of the two of you. It was last summer both your skins flushed and hair slightly wet and tangled. You both smile at the camera and your eyes look bright with happiness. He feels slightly lighter but he knows that there is an impending panic attack and so he turns to the one person who could help him in this situation.

"I got your text," you say, tiptoeing inside and shutting the door behind you, careful to not make any loud sounds to scare him. "How are you doing?”

Ollie is sitting on a massaging table, elbows on top of his legs and head resting in his hands. His eyes are stuck on the floor, his silence is defeaning. When he still doesn't answer, your heart rate picks up. Is something really wrong?

You make your way over to him, hands finding his cheeks and softly tilting him up to look at you – and you swear you've never seen him look this wrecked before. Not after his worst crashes, not when he lost the rookie championship last year, not when he was cheated out from the Formula 3 championship. Once again, you've entered completely new territory, and your heart breaks at the sight.

"Ollie, talk to me," you plead, holding back the tears that starts to form on your eyes and threatento spill. It's so painful to look into his eyes, but you can't back down. Not now, not when he needs you this much.

"I'm-" his voice cracks but he shakes his head, clearing his throat. "I'm so nervous, I don't know what to do."

It's like he's oozing anxiety, and his heavy sigh is like a stab in your chest. Ollie, your usually so calm and collected best friend is probably going crazy over this – you know him well enough by now to understand that he's definitely freaking out even more on the inside than what he shows or tells. He is a messy jumble of nerves.

"I get that. One hundred per cent. But.." your thumbs begin to stroke over the skin of his cheeks, along his jaw, and then finally across his eyebrows, to which his eyes flutter closed. "This is your dream. It's been your dream since forever, and now you finally have the chance.”

"And it's not just any car, it's a Ferrari. Do you realize how cool that is? Do you realize how many people would kill for an opportunity like this?" You smile at the sight of him with his eyes still shut, eyelashes resting atop his cheeks, messy fringe covering his forehead. Even like this, at his most stressed state, he's completely gorgeous, not that you would ever tell him that. "You would've killed for an opportunity like this just 24 hours ago."

"But what if I ruin it?" His voice is barely above a whisper when he speaks, shoulders slumping forward. "What if I go out there and I'm shit, and then they realize what a big mistake they've made by even putting me in the academy? What if-"

"It won't happen." His eyelids slowly open and he looks up at you, seemingly not even the slightest upset that you cut him off. "You're too good to do that. You'll get in that car and it will feel like your second home, just like it always does."

Finally, a small smile makes its way onto his lips. It's only been a few minutes since you came in, but he seems much more relaxed now, leaning into your touch completely. "I'll try my best to make you proud."

“I'm always proud of you, you mufflehead.”

A laugh bubbles from his chest and he stands up from the table, opening his arms wide and pulling you in for a tight hug. His heart is still beating louder than a drum in his chest when your ear is pressed up against it, and you're almost worried it will jump out any second now. But his breaths are much more controlled now, and his mind seems much lighter. And soon enough his heartbeat slows to normal.

“I bet that in twenty four hours not only will you finish the race, you will score points and beat Max Verstappen.”

“Let's not get ahead of ourselves” he says chuckling. “God, my neck is killing me.”

“Sit down. I've got you.” And so you start massaging his neck. It's stiff and hard under your hands and he lets a small groan as you untangle one of the knots that were quite painful. After a few minutes he is putty in your hands, his eyes closed, trusting you completely and feeling at ease for the first time in the past two days.

True to your world, Ollie crosses the finish line in seventh place, having gained points in his debut. But the one thing that kept him calm through the process was the thought that she was waiting for him in the cool down room. When the race finishes and drives the car back home he jumps from his seat and he can't get fast enough to her. People around him are praising him and congratulating him but they all fall to deaf eyes.

When he finally gets into the room to change into new fireproofs, she is patiently waiting for him. Her eyes are a little misty and her face flushed.

“I told you.”

“I didn't beat Max.”

“Still.”

She closes in on him and her hands are thrown around his neck, he reciprocates the hug immediately as his heart beat finally slows down. They doth draw away after a while only for him to dive back into her and kiss her firmly on the lips. Shock petrifies her and when he stops, he places his forehead on top of hers. He is a flustered mess and he is mumbling apologies, before she reconnects their lips.

For the following hours Ollie sports a shit-eating grin on his face. Everyone thinks that it is because of his amazing performance and not for kissing the girl that held his heart captive since they were five years old.

#ollie bearman #ollie bearman imagine #ollie bearman x reader #ollie bearman x you #ollie bearman x female reader #oliver bearman #oliver bearman x reader #oliver bearman imagine #formula 1 #formula 2

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santacoppelia · 1 year ago

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Putting the Meta in "Metatron"

(couldn't resist the pun, sorry)

Ok, this has been tickling my brain for a while. I've been thinking about how The Metatron designed his role and discourse specifically to manipulate Aziraphale into the end result we saw in the last minutes of S2. I become obsessed with it because… well, I'm a bit obsessive, but also because there were many really smart writing decisions that I loved (even when I despise The Metatron exactly for the same reasons. Hate the character, love the writer). If you haven't watched Good Omens Season 2, this is the moment to stop reading. Come back later!

We already know that in Book Omens, the role of Gabriel in the ending was occupied by The Metatron. Of course, the series introduced us to Gabriel and we won a lot by that, but I feel that the origins of The Metatron should be considered for any of this. He is not a "sweet old man": he was the one in charge of seeing over the operation of Armageddon; not just a stickler of rules, but the main promoter for it.

However, when he appears in the series finale, we first are primed to almost pass him by. He is in the line for buying coffee, using clothes that are:

obviously not tailored (almost ill fitted)

in dark tones

looking worn and wrinkled

This seems so important to me! All the angels we have seen are so proud of their aspect, wear clear (white or off white) clothes, pressed, impeccable (even Muriel), even when they visit the Earth (which we have already seen on S1 with all the visits to the bookshop). The Metatron chose a worn, comfortable attire, instead. This is a humanized look, something that fools all the angels but which would warm up someone very specific, can you guess?

After making quite a complicated coffee order (with sort of an affable and nervous energy), he makes a question that Crowley had already primed for us when asking Nina about the name of the coffee: having a "predictable" alternative and an unpredictable one.

This creates an interesting parallel with the next scene: Michael is discussing the possibility of erasing Aziraphale from The Book of Life (a punishment even worse than Holy Water on demons, because not having existed at all, EVER is definitely worse than having existed and ceased to exist at some point) when The Metatron arrives, interrupts the moment and signals having brought coffee. Yup, an amicable gesture, but also a "not death" offering that he shows clearly to everyone (even when Michael or Uriel do not understand or care for it. It wasn't meant for them). He even dismisses what Michael was saying as "utter balderdash" and a "complete piffle", which are the kind of outdated terms we have heard Aziraphale use commonly. So, The Metatron has put up this show for a specific audience of one.

The next moment on the script has Metatron asking Crowley for the clarification of his identity. Up to this moment, every angel has been ignoring the sprawled demon in the corner while discussing how to punish Aziraphale… But The Metatron defers to the most unlikely person in the room, and the only one who will push any buttons on Aziraphale: Crowley. After that, Aziraphale can recognize him, and Metatron dismisses the "bad angels" (using Aziraphale's S1 epithet) with another "catchy old phrase", "spit spot", while keeping Muriel at the back and implying that there is a possibility to "check after" if those "bad angels" have done anything wrong.

Up to this moment, he has played it perfectly. The only moment when he loses it is when he calls Muriel "the dim one", which she ignores… probably because that's the usual way they get talked to in Heaven. I'm not sure if Aziraphale or Crowley cared for that small interaction, but it is there for us (the audience) to notice it: the sympathy the character might elicit is built and sought, but he is not that nice.

After that, comes "the chinwag" and the offer of the coffee: the unnecessarily complicated order. It is not Aziraphale's cup of tea (literally), but it is so specific that it creates some semblance of being thought with care, and has a "hefty jigger" of syrup (again with the funny old words). And, as Aziraphale recognizes, it is "very nice!" (as The Metatron "jolly hoped so"), and The Metatron approves of him drinking it by admitting he has "ingested things in my time, you know?". This interaction is absolutely designed to build a bridge of understanding. The Metatron probably knew that the first response he would get was a "no", so he tailored his connection specifically to "mirror" Aziraphale: love of tasty human treats he has also consumed, funny old words like the ones he loves, a very human, worn, well-loved look. That was the bait for "the stroll": the moment when Aziraphale and Crowley get separated, because The Metatron knew that being close to Crowley, Aziraphale would have an hypervigilant soundboard to check the sense of what he was going to get offered. That's what the nasty look The Metatron gives to Crowley while leaving the bookshop builds (and it gets pinpointed by the music, if you were about to miss it).

The next thing we listen from The Metatron is "You don't have to answer immediately, take all the time you need" in such a friendly manner… we can see Aziraphale doubting a little, and then comes the suggestion: "go and tell your friend the good news!". This sounds like encouragement, but is "the reel". He already knows how Crowley would react, and is expecting it (we can infer it by his final reaction after going back for Aziraphale after the break up, but let's not get ahead of ourselves shall we?). He even can work up Muriel to take care of the bookshop while waiting for the catch.

What did he planted in Aziraphale's mind? Well, let's listen to the story he has to tell:

"I don't think he's as bad a fellow… I might have misjudged him!" — not strange in Aziraphale to have such a generous spirit while judging people. He's in a… partnership? relationship? somethingship? with a demon! So maybe first impressions aren't that reliable anyway. The Metatron made an excellent job with this, too.

"Michael was not the obvious candidate, it was me!" — This idea is interesting. Michael has been the stickler, the rule follower, even the snitch. They have been rewarded and recognized by that. Putting Aziraphale before Michael in the line of succession is a way of recognizing not only him, but his system of values, which has always been at odds with the main archangels (even when it was never an open fight).

"Leader, honest, don't tell people what they want to hear" — All these are generic compliments. The Metatron hasn't been that aware of Aziraphale, but are in line with what would have been said of any "rebel leader". They come into context with the next phrase.

"That's why Gabriel came to you, I imagine…" — I'm pretty sure The Metatron didn't imagine this, ha. He is probably imagining that the "institutional problem" is coalescing behind his back, and trying to keep friends close, but enemies closer… while dividing and conquering. If Gabriel rebelled, and then went searching for Aziraphale (and Crowley, they are and item and he knows it), that might mean a true risk for his status quo and future plans.

Heaven has great plans and important projects for you — this is to sweeten the pot: the hefty jigger of almond syrup. You will be able to make changes! You can make a difference from the inside! Working for an old man who feels strangely familiar! And who recognizes your point of view! That sounds like the best job offer of the world, really.

Those, however, are not the main messages (they are still building good will with Aziraphale); they are thought out to build the last, and more important one:

Heaven is well aware of your "de facto partnership" with Crowley…

It would be considered irregular if you wanted to work with him again…

You, and you alone, can bring him to Heaven and restore his full angelic status, so you could keep working together (in very important projects).

Here is the catch. He brought the coffee so he could "offer him coffee", but the implications are quite clear: if you want to continue having a partnership with Crowley, you two must come to Heaven. Anything else would be considered irregular, put them in a worst risk, and maybe, just maybe, make them "institutional enemies". Heaven is more efficient chasing enemies, and they have The Book of Life as a menace.

We already know how scared Aziraphale has always been about upsetting Heaven, but he has learned to "disconnect" from it through the usual "they don't notice". The Metatron came to tell him "I did notice, and it has come back to bite you". The implied counterpart to the offer is "you can always get death". Or even worse, nonexistence (we have already imagined the angst of having one of them condemned to that fate, haven't we?)

When The Metatron arrives, just after seeing Crowley leave the bookshop, distraught, he casually asks "How did he take it?", but he already knows. That was his plan all along: making them break up with an offer Aziraphale could not refuse, but Crowley could not accept. That's why he even takes the license to slightly badmouth Crowley: "Always did want to go his own way, always asking damn fool questions, too". He also arrive with the solution to the only objection Aziraphale would have: Muriel, the happy innocent angel that he received with so much warmth and kindness, is given the opportunity to stay on Earth, taking care of the bookshop. The only thing he would have liked to take with him is not a thing, and has become impossible.

If God is playing poker in a dark room and always smiling, The Metatron is playing chess, and he is quite good at it (that's why he loves everything to be predictable). He is menacing our pieces, and broke our hearts in the process… But I'm pretty sure he is underestimating his opponents. His awful remark of Muriel being "dim"; saying that Crowley "asks damn fool questions", and even believing that Aziraphale is just a softie that can be played like a pipe… That's why telling him the project is "The Second Coming" was an absolute gift for us as an audience, and it prefigures the downfall that is coming — the one Aziraphale, now with nothing to lose, started cooking in his head during that elevator ride (those couple of minutes that Michael Sheen gifted to all of us: the shock, the pain, the fury, and that grin in the end, with the eyes in a completely different emotion). Remember that Aziraphale is intelligent, but also fierce. Guildernstern commited a similar mistake in Hamlet, and it didn't go well:

"Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me! You would play upon me, you would seem to know my stops, you would pluck out the heart of my mystery, you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass, and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ, yet cannot you make it speak. 'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me."

I'm so excited to learn how this is going to unfold!! Because our heroes have always been very enthusiastic at creating plans together, failed miserably at executing them, and even then succeeding… But now they are apart, more frustrated and the stakes are even higher. Excellent scenario for a third act!

*exits, pursued by a bear*

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #good omens spoilers #aziraphale #ineffable spouses #ineffable divorce #narrative analysis #character analysis #the metatron #and a casual Hamlet quote #just because I love Hamlet

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madschiavelique · 1 year ago

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𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 (𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨'𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

summary : miguel didn't like very much the way you left him all horny for you in the toilets during the unexpected mission, so once the anomalies have all been maintained, he decides to teach you proper manners

content warnings : SMUT (18+) minors dni, lots of tension, soft!dom miguel, quick boob job, cunnilingus, "it's too big", pnv sex, miguel teaches reader magic words, so much kissing i swear, no use of Y/N, biting, mention of scars (from fights, miguel's) - let me know if i forgot any !! word count : 7,7k

note : i'm sorry i took SO LONG writing this baby, but here it is (and not yet proofread but i couldn't wait hehehe). the end is corny i AM SORRY but it was already long and this is to keep a pretty open. thank u all so much for ur support !! we passed the 400 subscribers today and i'm literally jumping to the ceiling of happiness. this is the last part of the 4shot, i hope you liked it <33 i was super inspired by Shameless by The Weeknd (one of my favourite songs hehehe). enough of me talking, love u guys !!

the previous parts : 1 - love bite 2 - late night training 3 - unexpected mission

tag list : @marit332 @coralineyouareinterribledanger @sunnyx07 @mamamiriamxo @l3laze @amy180801 @gojos-goth-gf @readingfan @cheezit-luv3rr @scaleniusrm @cowboyharrryy

Miguel hadn't followed you, so you decided to lure the creature back by calling out to it:

"You're really terrible at hide-and-seek, you know that?”

Suddenly, it turned towards you and charged at you as you leapt into the air to keep it at bay, at least long enough for Miguel to finish... what he had to do. The sound of his breathless voice replayed in your head, the heat in your cheeks rising. You propelled yourself silently up to a floor above, observing the behaviour of the dough.

The feel of his fangs on the skin of your neck, his tender kisses on your cheeks, the hard feel of his erection against your thigh as his claws pressed into the skin of it...

"Oh my god you're going to be the end of him!" exclaimed a small voice beside you.

The anomaly turned towards it at the same time as you: Lyla.

"Lyla?" you choked out, swivelling your head just in time to avoid the anomaly that had climbed extraordinarily nimbly to your floor.

"His pulse quickened, his body heat increased and his muscles contracted amazingly hard!" she chirped as you mimed shutting up or lowering her voice, but she wasn't listening and you started darting from floor to floor as she continued "You've got him completely wrapped around your finger! No pun intended."

"Please Lyla, keep it down!" you begged her, feeling like a huge red tomato as you blushed and above all hoping not to be chased away by this abomination.

"Oopsie," she smiled, placing a hand over her mouth.

The anomaly swung a ball of paste at you, and you narrowly avoided it as it crashed and exploded with power, splattering you as it went, a large drop smearing across your suit.

"I didn't know you had access to... all this," you muttered breathlessly as you ran down a corridor to get away from the unspeakable thing. "It doesn't matter... Yes, it does matter actually, how come?"

"Don't be angry, you've just given me what little fun I'm allowed to have," she said with a pout, "you know, programme life isn't always fun."

Out of breath, you let out a sigh that relaxed your shoulders with its depth. You shook your head for a moment.

"Well, we'll talk about it later, can you identify this for me?" you asked breathlessly, silently, as you spooned some of the substance and held it up to a small metal support on your watch, which lit up when you dropped a little on it.

"My pleasure, sugar," she said with a quick clap. "Hmm, that looks like a basic bread dough mixture to me. Flour, water, salt, yeast, not forgetting the anomaly gene, otherwise it wouldn't be any fun."

"It's true that I'm bursting with laughter," you say, putting both hands on your hips, still trying to catch your breath. You looked at her for a moment, biting the inside of your cheek, hesitating before asking, "Is Miguel... Done?"

"Yep, he's on his way," she said, giving you an amused wink, and you couldn't help but let a little laugh slip from your nose.

"Right," you said, clearing your throat so the anomaly could hear, "I'm going to lure this thing towards the exit!" You could hear the oily, slimy sounds coming in your direction, turning to Lyla one last time to ask: "Make sure you send Miguel my location, okay?" you said as you started to trot off.

"Already done!" she replied, blowing you a kiss which she pressed onto her hand before disappearing in a cloud of pixels.

You ran on, stammering aloud to keep the beast at your heels: " Come this way! You know, I think you'd really like rock, I've got two friends who play really well, I think you'd love to meet them!"

The pile rumbled behind you. You leapt into the air, grabbing the glass dome and hanging upside down, standing with your arms crossed over your chest.

"No, really, I think you'd like it. Oh well! You've got a head that could listen to metal, plus you've got exactly the right mouth shape to sing it, you know."

It was rumbling from the ground, right underneath you.

Then, just above you, you felt a tap on the thin glass roof, and when you looked up, you saw Miguel. It was a funny sight, the way you were standing made it look like you were reflecting yourselves in a mirror.

"Oh, hi there," you smiled behind your mask, taking on a slight intonation as if you hadn't been the cause of his delay. "Did everything go well?"

He let out a desperate sigh, the red glasses on his suit narrowing, before simply saying:

"Something unexpected came up, it was very... frustrating. But I'll wait."

I'll wait. The very word made you gulp.

"Observations?" he asked, jerking his chin in the direction of the anomaly just below you.

"It's dough, we'd just have to find something to bake it with," you suggested.

Outside there was a loud bang: the lorry Gwen and Hobie had been chasing had started to roll over, and the anomaly, just as alert as you and Miguel, leapt towards the first bay window to get out.

Gwen and Hobie seemed to have managed to deal with their anomaly, the truck was completely dented, sideways, and luckily for you, the oil from the truck was starting to spread on the ground. You got out, Miguel following to examine the situation. All it needed was a spark...

"I'll try to coat it with a bit of oil, find a lighter, a box of matches, whatever," he warned, before dashing off towards the pile of dough.

You looked around, and there, as luck would have it, was a convenience store. You leapt towards it. Managing to light a lighter with your costume on would be complicated, so you managed to find a box of matches, rushing towards the street again.

Miguel kept jumping up and down to coat the anomaly, and when he finally saw you coming, he shouted: "Light it up.

So you grabbed a match, struck it against the side of the box and threw it into the oil. You stepped aside and ran further to avoid taking any damage from the fire. It immediately licked at the anomaly, which let out horrible, high-pitched screams as the paste on its body cooked and smoked, turning golden and thinning little by little.

And so, you launched the multidimensional cell that had been given to you, and finally imprisoned the anomaly.

"I think 'the more the merrier' is a phrase I like less and less," said Gwen as you catalogued the anomalies.

"Are you kidding me? This was so much fun," said Peter. "It was like doing MMA!"

"Speak for yourself, we took care of the Magic Bus driver," Hobie huffed.

"I think Gordon Ramsey would be proud of our muffin," you agreed.

"You have to admit it smelled good," confirmed Pavitr.

Everything had gone well, Gwen had finished her exam period and you were all filling in your reports. Everything was going well, and everyone was pretty relaxed, except maybe you.

It was a pretty nasty trick you played on Miguel, leaving him like that, so close to the climax, and then leaving. And somewhere in there, you feared and waited impatiently for what was to come.

You couldn't help glancing at him from time to time. He seemed to be concentrating, but sometimes you could feel his gaze on you, insistent. You found him incredibly calm, and maybe it was just because he hid it well, but just to see him lose a little of that control, you managed to brush past him for a moment when no one was looking, your knuckles deliberately brushing his thigh before joining the others. Pretending to be interested in their conversation, you couldn't help but glance over at Miguel.

Death stare was probably the closest you could come to defining the look he was giving you at that moment, and a shiver of dread ran down your spine as you swallowed. He seemed to chew the inside of his cheek for a moment, trying to act as if nothing had happened.

You weren't going to get out of this alive, or entirely.

"Well, I don't know about you, but the lack of sleep knocked me out, so I'm going to bed, see you later!" said Gwen before leaving.

"Same here, see ya," said Hobie.

And successively, the only ones left were Peter, Miguel and you.

He waited patiently, with you beside him, until Peter had finished his report and, like all the others before him, had gone to sleep. The seconds seemed to stretch out painfully, every movement and possibility accentuated by the wait. Miguel seemed tense, and you had no idea whether Peter could feel it from his side too, but you could feel your skin tingling with anticipation.

Every moment, every second tickled your mind and body like tiny needles, Miguel's gaze resting insistently on yours.

"Well, that's not all, but I think we've all got better things to do than hang around making a report," Peter yawned. "Good night, sleep well."

Oh, it won't be sleep.

He then waved goodbye one last time, turning his back to you as he headed for the exit. Miguel turned to look at you, taking a deep breath as he tilted his head back to look at you from an even higher angle.

The footsteps echoed around the room, fading away little by little as Miguel's eyes turned red, yours watching them and stifling a gasp. He took a single step closer, no more, but it was enough to intimidate you and for you to take a step backwards.

It was when the door finally closed behind Peter that he grabbed you powerfully around the waist and pinned you down on one of the desks, causing you to squeal in surprise as you widened your eyes for a moment, blinking frantically. In less time than it took to say 'empanada' Miguel had you completely under control, immobilising you faster than poison and more powerfully than a pair of handcuffs.

His nose wrinkled slightly.

"Did you enjoy your little act?" he asked, his tone extraordinarily calm, which made him all the more menacing. "Leaving me like that without finishing what you'd started?"

Your heart was racing, and suddenly just meeting his gaze seemed too powerful to maintain eye contact, so you turned your head to the side. Was it simply because you were embarrassed by your own little prank, or was it just that the intensity of his eyes on yours was too much? But Miguel wasn't going to have it any other way, so with one of his hands he grabbed your jaw and redirected it so that you were facing him.

"It's very rude not to look into someone's eyes when they're talking to you, you know that," he whispered, moving a little closer. "We're going to have to correct that, and teach you polite forms of address."

And you couldn't argue with that, because right now it wasn't a choice you had to make.

"Speaking of politeness, I realise that you haven't used any magic words so far for our little encounters," he said, his thumb pressing and digging into the skin of your cheek.

He moved a little closer, tilting his head to one side as you felt his nose brush against yours, moving a little closer still to feel his lips brush against yours, the simple touch of them sending little electric currents of excitement through you...

But nothing, he just grazed his lips against yours, not moving any further, but not backing away either. Your breaths collided softly, his eyes still fixed on yours with insistence.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked, his voice composed and contained, as you tried to free yourself a little from the hold his hand had on your jaw, to no avail.

His lips, so close to yours and yet so far away, gave you electrifying sensations, but you wanted more. You wanted the two of you to kiss, for your lips to become one again, for you to be able to offer him the body's 'I love you'.

So you tried to move a little closer, meeting his lips to satisfy your desire, no, your need. But he pulled back slightly, causing you to sigh in disappointment. No, you'd have to tell him.

"Kiss me," you whispered, your voice small but audible, as if you were pouring your desire into his plump lips.

A smile, the stretch of his lips pulling them a little further away from yours.

"Where," the question sounding more like a command.

His thumb eased a little in its pressure and caressed the skin of your cheek for a moment before sliding across your chin, settling just below your bottom lip.

"There," you replied, your desperation for more contact growing stronger by the second as the only thought on your mind was his kisses.

You wanted to taste that rainy, woody flavour on his lips again, and feel them assault your body with kisses.

"Only there?" he questioned, provoking your cravings even more as your impatience was felt almost painfully.

It didn't seem fair, he seemed to possess incredible composure and cold-blood as your veins pulsed through your body like lava flowing from the volcano of your heart.

The little game Miguel was playing with you almost felt like a little revenge. Could you blame him? He wanted all this as much as you did, but he liked balance, he liked things to be even, and he was making you pay for the advance you'd dared to take from him.

His thumb pressed against your plump lip, his skin barely brushing against it, and it felt like a thread sticking out with no way of pulling on it.

"Yes- No!" you moaned, feeling like a child who was denied a sweet treat, unable to hide your longing for more as his touch confused you, "everywhere."

His lips were parted, as close as ever, his warm breath spilling over yours. His thumb had moved up the curve of your lips to press against the volume of her, his eyes fixed on it.

"I didn't hear that properly," he said, his eyes returning to yours.

Their carmine colour reflected your face: eyebrows slanted back, eyes almost watery, his thumb resting on your lips as he continued to caress it mathematically to elicit a reaction from you.

You tried to squirm away for a moment, but Miguel's hand on your waist held you in place with incredible ease.

He raised an eyebrow, obviously your attempt was in vain, he hadn't started hand-to-hand training the day before like you had, he'd been an ace at physical power and combat for much longer, so of course he could immobilise you in less than no time and much less delicately if the mood took him.

His lips brushed yours a little closer, and you could almost feel them completely. But this tiny glimpse of heaven wasn't granted to you, and you whimpered for a moment before finally just saying:

"Kiss me," you whined, "please."

His eyes crinkled with his smile.

"Mira que buena."

He finally kissed you, and it was like you had taken cotton candy in your mouth and as it melted you could feel all the little crystals of sugar that were hidden by the fluffiness of the sweet, a moan of relief vibrating from your lips against his lips.

Millions of tiny sparkles crackled under your skin, rising to the surface like champagne bubbles as Miguel cupped your face and kissed you. He took your lips as if you were holding the air that allowed him to breathe, his hand going round your side to slip under your back, pressing against your pelvis to bring it close to his.

He bit your lower lip lightly before pulling away, his half-closed eyes looking into yours again. His hand came to caress your cheekbone gently, with a tenderness that was almost unlike anything he had ever offered you before.

"Tell me more about these desires you mentioned.”

Your breath caught slightly, and you suddenly felt your face heat up fiercely, as if you were leaning over the hearth of a fireplace, its fire licking your face and your being from afar. You swallowed, formulating out loud your desires, all those thoughts you'd had about him even after your meeting at the Conditioning Centre and what had happened in the cabin, seemed difficult.

"Come on, don't be scared," he murmured before leaning over to kiss your forehead gently, offering you soft, sweet words to help you get the burning out of your soul.

All those thoughts you'd had, those warm nights during that week when you'd imagined the feel of his fingers, his lips, the sweet words that interested you as he searched inside you to expose you to him emotionally, all of them could be said, especially the one that was vibrating immensely inside you at the moment.

"I want... I want you to..."

You had the impression that the words you were about to say would be like throwing a tiny stone into still water, like stepping on ice and feeling it crack, like throwing alcohol into the fireplace that was warming you up.

The hand that was resting on your cheek ran down your neck, brushing your chest as it slid to your hip and slid all the way down to your thigh, stopping in its descent at that very spot, his hand gripping it.

"Hmm?" he asked, his humming vibrating against the skin of your cheek and tickling you.

You bit the inside of your lip, your teeth pressing into your flesh and trapping some of the wet skin against your bottom teeth. You released this clutch with a gasp as your voice dropped to a whisper when you whispered :

"I want you to fuck me."

His eyes crinkled as he smiled, an eyebrow raised, his proud grin stretching across his cheek as his lip parted wide enough to reveal his fangs. He came to kiss your cheek, his soft lips caressing it as his lashes offered you butterfly kisses.

His grip on your thigh softened, his thumb making circular movements against your covered skin as a warm cloud began to form in your lower belly.

"Say that again," he said, his breath landing on your neck as his thumb began to move slightly up your inner thigh.

You tilted your head back, closing your eyes as the simple sensation of his fingers on your body caressed you sublimely, a sigh of ease slipping from your lips. Miguel then took the opportunity to kiss the corner of your jaw, laying a trail of kisses that mixed sweetness and hunger, kissing and biting your skin. He lowered his lips a little further down your neck and kissed you lazily, the coolness of his lips meeting the fire burning at the back of your head. His lips reached a sensitive corner, causing you to let out a moan.

You moistened your lips, your cheeks burning as Miguel's fingers traced the sensitive skin of your thigh and his other hand rested on the small of your back, close to the cloud of heat.

And he expected you, with all these delicious distractions, to be able to string a sentence together properly and clearly. So you tried to speak louder, swallowing before saying:

"I want you to fuck me."

His lips came away from your neck, just brushing your ear before coming back to face you. The red of his eyes was deep, hungry, but above all attentive to your every move, which made him even more intimidating. His lips were so close to yours that you could feel them moving close to your skin as he spoke.

"There must be something with my hear because I can't hear properly what you said," he said, his tone a little less contained than he had managed to convey before, less composed, "say it louder."

His fingers continued their trajectory, very close to you, to where your desires came from, the knot in your lower abdomen tightening even though he never reached the spot. So this was the intense despair he'd felt earlier? The pain of his desire overcoming his thought and logic in the simple hope that he would be touched to turn the pain into sweetness?

You tried to move your hips a little, in the simple hope that he might go further, touch you, but he steadied you in an instant with his hand on your back, making you let out a little cry of longing.

You bit the inside of your cheek, your gaze meeting his for a moment, and you saw it in the reflection of his eyes: the breadth of your desire spreading through your whole body.

You breathed in, gathering your strength and thoughts to say, "I want you to-"

His hand went up your back to the nape of your neck and traced up and down your spine, your body undulating uncontrollably as you concluded with a strangled sigh:

"Fuck me, please."

His carmine eyes watched you through his long black lashes, a proud sneer stretching his lips, your request seemed to have pleased him greatly.

If you had something to ask him, you might as well ask him politely. He tilted his head to one side, the light illuminating his jaw over his massive shoulder, it was so sharp it could have cut glass. Did he have any idea of the hold he had over you?

"Muy bien, bien hecho, muñeca," he murmured before kissing you again, gently.

His kiss was demanding, hungry, eager for your lips to be captured by his. Your hands, until now too afraid to touch anything or attempt any gesture, were tempted by the need to touch him in turn. They came to rest on his face, cupping it as he devoured your mouth relentlessly, his kiss a mixture of thirst, craving and the occasional sensation of his canines scratching your skin.

His thumb had moved up to your groin, deliberately avoiding and brushing very close to the part you'd been dreaming of him touching. Both his hands were now on your hips, gripping them to draw them to his.

And the electrifying sensation of his erection meeting in a single touch the excitement of your cunt that had grown inside you caused you both to moan together.

Your hand snaked through his hair, his sighs of comfort rushing into the depths of your body, blowing on the already burning fire inside you making it blaze and shine. His pelvis had begun to undulate against yours, the friction he was exerting against your covered flesh, against your throbbing clit, sending sparks throughout your body.

"Coño," he let out between kisses, one of his hands gripping your hip a little tighter to pull you closer to him and hold you in place while the other moved up your body like ivy on a statue, pressing against the back of your neck so that you were even closer. He wanted to eliminate any space between you, and you wanted it just as much, arching your body to his touch.

The kiss went from gentle to passionate, from passionate to hungry, and from hungry to needing more. Your tongues exchanged a waltz, and the next moment Miguel was back at your neck as your hand rested on his hip.

You needed more closeness, more of everything, but less clothing. He pulled you in again, straightening you up so that you ended up sitting on the desk, both your mouths still dancing.

He placed both hands firmly under your thighs, ready to lift you up.

"Hang on," he whispered between two kisses.

Without missing a beat you wrapped your legs around his waist, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck as he lifted you with incredible ease, heading for a door at the back of the room: Miguel's quarters.

To avoid being bothered by anything during his precious, absent sleep, Miguel didn't belong to any of the dormitories, sleeping in secluded quarters. One of his hands came up to grip one of your buttocks, grasping it with his full hand and kneading it, a little hum of pleasure vibrating from your lips against his as you nibbled on it. You kissed his cheek, tracing his jaw with your wet skin.

As he depixelised his hand from his suit and placed it on the digital recognition pad, you gently kissed his neck, a rumble rising in his throat, a mixture of threat and plea for patience. But how could you still be patient? It was impossible, you were each other's tinder box and lighter.

As soon as the airlock opened, he came to kiss you dangerously, not tiring for a moment of the sensation of your lips caught between his. He walked quickly and eagerly, his erratic breathing colliding with your warm skin.

You rounded a corner, and the familiar sensation of a mattress under your back met you almost brutally. You were out of breath, lying back, looking at Miguel.

He stood there, looking down at you. His hair was dishevelled from the passage of your hands, his eyes shining like two rubies in the half-light, watching you hungrily. He towered over you, dominating you with his size and power. You shuddered, because at the moment he looked like a predator facing the prey he was about to devour.

He chuckled, moving closer as he put one knee on the mattress, one of his hands coming to rest beside your head, leaning gently over you, crawling up to spread your thighs as his face came level with yours.

And it was with the sensitivity that only lips possess that he whispered to you:

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this," his mouth hungrily came to reclaim yours, his other hand sliding up your waist to reach your hip and hold it in place as he consumed you.

You were in his grip, entranced, trapped in the web of desire he had woven in your mind, every thread of which you touched bringing the spider back to its prey.

His hand came up to your head and nestled under the nape of your neck, looking for the zip to take off your suit. You helped him, pressing a little harder against his lips in your kisses as you raised your head to help him pull it off.

He found it, and you could feel with what composure he was pulling it. You knew perfectly well that if it had only been up to him, your suit would have been ripped to shreds and it would have been impossible to reassemble it properly and put it back together in one piece. But he was holding back, with difficulty.

The sensation of all those little metal teeth coming loose against your back and letting your abundantly heated skin breathe sent tingles through each of your ribs and down your spine, your back arching all the more at the sensation. Maybe having absolutely nothing under your costume could be complicated in certain situations, but it had never been as practical or as pleasant as it was right now. And Miguel seemed to agree.

His hand came to pull at the fabric, exposing your shoulder, and feeling his fingers run over it made you shiver. He continued to pull gently, your chest meeting the cool air until your breasts were bare.

He broke away from your lips for a moment, watching your skin like a flame and its enchanted dance. And you were burning, your whole body aflame with his touch, his kisses, his eyes. You couldn't undress him on your side, his costume knew no beginning or end other than pixels, and you found that profoundly unfair.

Then, very gently, his hand came to hover over your skin. It barely grazed, not even touching it, passing over the roundness of your shoulder, following your collarbone up to your cheek. He placed his hand on it, and it was as if your body was a diamond, every facet of which was illuminated by the light from his hand.

"Tan linda," he whispered, nestling back into the crook of your neck, kissing the warm, tender skin there. His kisses trailed down to your collarbone, sucking on your skin from time to time to reveal violet and pink flowers.

You hummed with delight under his touch, your body lighting up and glowing a little more with every touch of his lips against your skin. They came to rest between the valley of your breasts, his red eyes meeting yours as, while one of his hands pulled a little harder on the part of your suit that was still in place, his own suit began to depixel as he straightened up to face you.

Lips parted, you watched his body reveal itself, his tanned torso sculpted like a god. But above all, you couldn't help letting your eyes wander along the countless scars that marked his body.

Various shapes were mixed in, cuts, burns, strange, sinuous lines, all marking the traces of past dangers. And he had survived them all.

Gently, your hand came to rest on his cheek, pressing against your touch and kissing your palm as you let your fingers move down his torso. You let your fingertips trace a scar, caressing it gently, Miguel's breath shuddering against your skin for a moment.

Your breath caught in your throat as his bare hand grazed the skin of one of your tits, his thumb gently tracing the bouncing skin. His lips moved down the ridge of your breasts, kissing the soft, tender skin of it.

He looked into your eyes as he stuck out his tongue and ran it over your nipple slowly, the warmth of his saliva and the roughness of his muscle sending all sorts of little stars into your body.

It was as if your flesh was bare soil, and with his hands he brought forth flowers of many colours and intoxicating scents that enchanted you, making you drunk with his touch and the colours he painted under your skin.

His tongue traced the separation between your skin and your nipple, his hand resting on the other, pressing it gently between his large fingers. Then he kissed it gently, sucking lightly as his teeth grazed the sensitive skin. And as the moans multiplied between your lips, he stopped, a smile stretching his lips as his hand dripped down your waist and clutched the rest of your costume.

As he pulled it off, in a slow motion, he kissed his way down your belly, letting buds of caress blossom on your body. Reaching below your navel, he exchanged a glance with you, seeking approval.

As a simple response, you raised your hips, and he gently pulled the rest of the costume down, his bare fingers brushing your buttocks and thighs as he pulled until you were covered by nothing but your panties.

One of his hands grabbed your thigh, the other settled on your waist, lazily tracing your skin until it reached your groin, stopping there, drawing indescribable patterns as the fire in your lower belly heated up.

He stayed there, eyes riveted on yours, his other hand moving slightly up your inner thighs but not reaching your core either. The tingles it sent through your being were delicious, but you were getting impatient. Your pussy was almost starting to ache from the lack of touch and contact.

"Lower..." you murmured, your desires taking possession of your body, your reason silenced.

He tilted his head to one side, and the same words you'd said to him earlier in the bathroom came back to you:

"Say that again."

A grunt of frustration rattled against your teeth. Your own cards had just been used against you in your own game, and you had no say in the matter. His fingers continued to draw as if nothing had happened, sometimes reaching for half a second a little lower than where they were staying. You needed more.

"Touch me lower," you said, looking into his red eyes, which raised an eyebrow as if to say 'aren't you forgetting something?', so you punctuated your sentence with a little "please."

He smiled, dark, his tongue passing over his canine and his lip as he ran his fingers between your skin and the elastic of your panties, pulling the latter so that only the air, his hands and his warm breath covered you.

His fingers returned to your now naked groin, and he gently traced your skin, finally coming to touch your cunt, a sigh of respite taking hold of your chest as he gently passed a single finger between your lips.

"Hmm?" he hummed, raising his fingers to the height of his head, observing the sticky substance that glued to his skin, "would you look at that." Evidence of your arousal was placed before your eyes, "Am I the reason you're so wet ?"

Your head tucked into your shoulders, your cheeks heating intensely as he smiled wider.

"Tengo suerte," he murmured as his finger returned to your entrance, coating itself in more of your wetness as his thumb settled on your clit, making slow, hypnotic circular movements that tightened the knot in your lower abdomen.

Your hands clutched the sheets as you drew in a shaky breath, but he reached down and guided one of them to his hair, which you grabbed without hesitation.

"Like it when I touch you there?" he asked, echoing the words you had said to him in the cabin.

"Mhm," you agreed, unable to formulate a coherent sentence, inhaling more air as he pushed in his first finger.

His hands were big, his fingers thick, and he manipulated them all to perfection. His finger was streching you out, undulating to awaken exceptional sensations in you.

"How does that feel?" he asked, his tone composed and almost teasing in the way he asked you things.

"Good," you assented as he inserted a second finger, causing you to gasp out a moan, your eyelids closing of their own accord.

His fingers worked you out, curving up to touch the spot that made you see stars.

"Keeps your eyes on me," he whispered as his head lowered against your cunt, his hot breath falling against your damp skin, "I want you to see me."

With difficulty you complied, and he brought his tongue against your pussy, a moan of pleasure rising from your throat. The sensation of his hot, wet tongue licking your clit made your whole body burn.

Your hand gripped his hair more firmly, needing something to anchor it so that you didn't succumb entirely to all your vices. Miguel groaned at this gesture, and the sensation of his vibrant voice on your sensitive skin almost made you come in an instant.

Your pelvis moved of its own accord, and Miguel immediately grabbed it to immobilise you, his fingers and tongue working together to make you moan even more.

The sight reminded you immensely of the bullet incident: his eyes reddened, his tongue and lips resting on you while your fingers were knotted in his hair.

You were beginning to feel as if you were flying away, but it was at that precise moment that Miguel stopped, pulling his fingers out and his mouth away. You whimpered, a whiney complaint filling your mouth as you laid your head back in disappointment on the pillow, Miguel moving up to your face.

"I just wanted to make sure you'd know what it feels like."

The torment was unbearable, and you bit your lips for fear that, on the instant, you might send an insult into his face.

"Oh," he said, raising an eyebrow, "did I make you mad?"

His tone seemed almost condescending, addressing you as if you were a child. He brought his face close to yours, his eyes falling on your lips.

"Want me to fuck you, querida?" he questioned, his lips brushing yours "want me to fill you up with my cock?"

You looked up at him through your eyelashes, simply nodding in response as his simple words managed to make your hair stand on end.

"Use your words," he said simply.

"Yes," you said, beginning to learn from his lessons, trying to find more strength in your voice, "fuck me, please."

He nodded, proud.

"Good," he said, bringing his two fingers, still covered with yourself, close to your lips, "open up."

Timidly, you parted your lips.

"Wider," he ordered in a calm voice.

You obeyed, and soon felt his moist fingers on your tongue. You licked them, his eyes watching with great interest. They were thick and having them both in your mouth wasn't easy, but by relaxing your jaw you eventually managed to suck them off properly, your eyes returning to his, feverish with desire.

Without further ado, he removed his fingers from your mouth and came to kiss your lips, hungry. The entre-met you had offered him wasn't enough, and he was fasting from it to be able to taste all the other parts of you that were still untouched by his lips.

His naked erection pressed against your cunt, and your hips undulated against the sensation as you let out an excited moan against his lips, your walls closing in on nothing.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he splayed his hand across your lower back, undoing the kiss to press his forehead against yours. He adjusted his cock in front of your entrance, coating himself in your juices, and just by that gesture and the memory of your hands, you knew it would be too much.

"Miguel it's," you breathed softly against him, "it's too big. I'll never-" but he cut you off.

"I'm sure you can take it, muñeca," he murmured softly, kissing your cheek.

He returned to kiss your lips, then asked before doing anything else:

"Ready?"

You inhaled softly, your eyes plunging into the red of his, before murmuring against his lips:

"Ready."

He nodded, coming to kiss you chastely before lining up his cock and thrusting in. A moan slipped from your lips, he was big, way too big.

"Shh," he soothed, kissing your temple, "you're tense cariño, breathe through your nose."

So you followed his instructions, trying to relax as much as possible as your nails on his back began to dig into his flesh. Your breath was coming in shaky gasps, your teeth sinking into your lip as Miguel whispered:

"You're doing so well," his hands gently caressing your arched back and thigh.

His voice relaxed you, your breathing a little more settled as he thrust deeper, stretching you out. He kissed your forehead tenderly, brushing the tiny tear from the corner of your eye with his lips.

"Just like that," he groaned, finally managing to fill you completely, "look at you taking me so well.

He kissed your lips gently, caressing the skin of your side. He kissed your cheek, then the side of your neck, sucking in one more mark.

Full, that's how you felt. He stretched you out fully, filling every inch of your being, meeting the warm cloud as he kissed you to contrast the sensation. And soon enough, you relaxed a little more.

"Are you ready for me to move?" he murmured, his thumb resting on your cheek.

As a simple response, breathing softly, you moved your hips on him. He smiled, kissing your lips softly as he pulled back slightly to push into you again, a shaky breath mingling with a moan that he swallowed from your lips.

His tongue came to meet yours, curling around it, sucking it between his lips tenderly as he took a slow rhythm to get you used to him.

He sprinkled kisses across your face, sloppy ones running over your warm naked skin, inevitably coming back to your neck, nibbling lightly. He traced your collarbone with his lips, running along it until he reached your shoulder, where the rounded skin was bitten and a moan was torn from your lips.

His hand came to take your arm, kissing the skin gently as he raised it, straightening slightly to manipulate and kiss it better.

His lips came to linger on the inner skin of your arms, depositing his lips gently as he traced that softened area, his pelvis taking on a slightly faster rhythm.

After the little treatment he'd given you, you weren't going to last long, so you let yourself be carried and touched by his adoring lips.

His tongue traced the skin on the inside of your wrist, his teeth grazing the separation between your hand and it. He came to kiss your palm, then delicately placed his lips on each of your knuckles before pressing it against his cheek.

Your thumb caressed it, and he surrendered to your touch. He then guided it to the side of your head, his fingers nestling in the crack of yours until your hands were intertwined.

"Qué guapa," he breathed.

His rhythm quickened, and you could feel the knot in your belly gradually tightening as Miguel's thrusting in and out of you became sublime, and the sounds you were making multiplied as he hit all the right spots.

Your fingers tightened on Miguel's hand as your other reached down his back to grip his arm, squeezing hard as you felt you were going to come.

"Miguel," you sobbed as he returned to kiss your lips, "I'm close."

It was a miracle you managed to get those few words right. The hand that wasn't intertwined with yours came to cup your face before moving down your body to grab your hip, a deep sigh escaping from his throat.

And you felt his canine gently bite your lip as the knot burst in your lower belly and a moan echoed in your throat. It was like a bolt of lightning striking against metal, spreading out in a powerful electric shock in your entire body as the pleasure beat like a second heart. Miguel's voice growled against your skin as you closed around him spasmodically, your nails clawing at his arm.

You twitched, Miguel kissing your forehead, your eyelids, your nose, your lips. You were slowly coming down from your clouds, the sensations you had gradually fading.

"Tan buena..." he whispered, close to your lips, "but I'm not done with you yet.”

His fingers loosened from yours as he grabbed your arms with both hands to pull you against him and straighten you up. He was sitting, still inside you, making you sit on top of him, facing him.

One of his hands grabbed one of your buttocks, guiding you to move back and forth on him, while his other was on your back, caressing it.

He came to attack your lips again, the sound of your two bodies meeting clapping in the air as you felt completely disorientated by the pleasure. The speed with which he entered you was exceptional, and the sensations he triggered were even more so.

His lips moved over the back of your neck, then settled on your shoulder, his breathing becoming more and more jerky.

You tilted your head back, your voice interspersed with the feeling of him pounding you, the heat in your belly not entirely gone and tightening again.

Then the hand that had been resting on your back slipped between your two bodies and caressed your clit, your breath catching as you felt the cloud spread once more to the small of your back.

Miguel's voice grew less hushed as his rhythm quickened, his fingers working your clit with speed as you felt the climax building up again.

And all at once, you felt his fangs penetrate your beloved as he gave a powerful thrust, and you both came. The earth stopped spinning as you felt like you'd been sent miles above the clouds, both your bodies warm against each other, both of you breathless.

Everything seemed soft, floating, an inner peace had taken hold of both of you as you came down from this peak of pleasure.

He held you against him gently, running his tongue over the two slits he'd made in your skin. He pulled out of you, placing you so gently and carefully on the mattress that it was as if he had a spider's web in his hands.

You snuggled up to him, and he pulled the blanket over you as he kissed you again.

You felt safe here, cuddled in his huge arms that wrapped around you, his hands caressing your body with pure adoration and softness.

You kissed his chest, on one of his scars, and he breathed a profound sigh.

"How did you know?" he whispered.

The end of his question never came, but it was simple: how did you know I wanted to be kissed here? Probably no one had ever touched him this way, here, like that.

"There's nothing like tenderness to soothe the scars." you smiled.

He breathed out, his eyes had returned to their natural brown. He pressed you a little closer to him, his eyes locked in yours. Blue words are the ones you say with your eyes, when your lips are too tired.

"Maybe we'll have to find a name for this pseudo-friendship?" he smiled, the little chat you'd had on the first mission coming back to you as you smiled and kissed him sweetly.

"Why when we already have two letters?" you replied, placing your hand on his cheek, kissing your palm as his hand caressed your waist.

"Two letters?" he asked, curious.

"Yeah," you confirmed, your voice becoming a whisper, "us."

He gave you a candid, sincere smile before kissing your lips softly.

"Yes," he nodded, "we could make a great us, muñeca."

Us, two letters, a whole world.

#madschiavelique ⟢ ݁ ˖‧˚₊ ☁︎#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel x reader #astv x reader #miguel ohara #miguel x you #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel x y/n #miguel spiderman #miguel astv #smut #Spotify

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oceantornadoo · 8 months ago

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Please I just want to say I LOVE YOU AND YOUR WORK HUHBBDEUBYUVTYVTUOVY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! If you could come up with anything more on the Simon Riley Cut-bulk-the-bird-said-she-liked-me-big-thing I will be your servant forever.

tw: body talk (i headcanon simon as someone who shops in the big & tall section so i think his clothes would fit the body type of every reader. if you shop in that same section, imagine him being MORE bigger and taller than you. mans is 6'4 fr)

(a few months later)

simon almost ripped the shirt off his body in frustration. another piece of clothing he had outgrown. he added it to the pile of clothes that he couldn't fit anymore. sleeves too tight, stomach pushing out the fabric. sure he was still in shape, could pass the military physical easily, but he was no longer the lean 22-year-old he once was, muscles now hidden under layers of fat. and he hated it.

there was a knock at the door. still a little pissed off, he opened it with more force than necessary, grunting out "what." before even looking down at who knocked. just his luck, it was you, the one person he tried to be nice to.

"what's got you so grumpy?" you smiled up at him, all sugar and spice. you loved simon's growls, the social anxiety and introvertedness he hid under irritation. it just made it more valuable whenever he laughed at one of your god-awful puns or let you lay on his shoulder. you were never second-guessing if he liked you, mostly because he hated everyone else.

"sorry, didn't see it was you. was jus' doing some spring cleaning." you laughed, a tinkling sound that transitioned into a snort. he loved your insane laughter, a real sound of joy. you peered around his large torso and spotted the pile of clothes on his bed. "doing a big donation, simon?" it was always a punch to the gut to hear his name come out of your mouth, laced with sarcasm and cheek. ever since he told you you could say it in private with him a month ago, you never stopped using it. "somethin' like that. clothes piss me off." you huffed, pushing past him easily as he let you into his room. he closed the door behind you, trying to calm his heart rate as he saw you, here, in his space. like you were his too.

"what did the poor fabric do to you?" you sorted through the clothes, seeing nothing wrong with most. they were all practical clothes, but none had noticeable holes or wear. he mumbled something, too low for you to catch it. "say that again?" he scratched his head and looked away, almost meek. "said they don't fit." ah, there was the problem. "that's okay. just means your muscles are too big." you tried to give a compliment, anything to get rid of the storms in his eyes. "nah. 've gotten fat." you put the shirt you were holding down with force, stomping over to where he had now taken a seat at his spare chair. you stepped between his legs, which opened easily for you. you gripped his chin and turned it towards you, forcing eye contact. "so what? just means you've been eating well, simon. nothing wrong with that."

he looked down, almost reminding you of a kicked puppy. "you don't care?" you weren't dating, yet, but you two had some sort of a romantic understanding. some acknowledgement of there being more, an exclusive connection between you two. "no. i like my men big. like when you can throw me around." he barked out a laugh, surprised at your admission. you smiled back, satisfied. getting a laugh out of him was 80% of the battle. "and these clothes are still good for something." his eyes were on you again, questioning.

you walked back to the bed, full of confidence now. turning to face him, you slowly grabbed the hem of your shirt, untucking it from your tactical pants. he wasn't wearing his mask, so you could see his mouth physically drop at the action. ever so slowly, you raised your arms, bringing your shirt with you. you tossed the shirt aside, standing in front of him with only your bra and pants on. his eyes were dark with desire and he made a move to stand up, but you commanded him with a sharp "sit." like a loyal guard dog, he lowered himself back into his chair, complete captivated.

turning back to the bed, you grabbed one of his outgrown sweatshirts and put it on. it smelled like him, that masculine scent tinged with the cologne he sometimes wore. "see?" you gestured to the sweatshirt, too big on you. "you just gave me a bunch of free clothes." he grunted, still fixated on the sweatshirt. his lack of response made you nervous. "what?" you asked. "give us a spin." you spun slowly, trying not to smile too much. god, the things this man does to you.

"'like seeing my last name on you."

now whose jaw was dropping?

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #fluff #ghost call of duty #tornadothoughts #big boy season #big boy simon #this man could throw ME around weiuhrobsfiehrbf

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hbyrde36 · 3 months ago

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Silver Linings

Written for the @steddiemicrofic prompt ‘plug’

AO3 | Rated: G | WC: 437 | CW: Hospital, Near death injury | Tags: Post season 4, Canon divergent - Eddie lives, Pre-relationship, First kiss

“Eddie?”

Eddie eased open blurry eyes as a voice spoke softly somewhere above, the beeping and whirring of machines and sharp smell of industrial cleaners filling his nose telling him exactly where he was.

Handy, since he couldn't seem to move or speak just yet to ask.

“I knew it.” The voice went on as something warm enveloped Eddie’s hand. “They wanted to pull the plug, but I told those assholes you wouldn’t give up so easy.”

The quiet, soothing tone was so familiar, yet it wasn’t until Eddie blinked away the fog and forced himself to focus on the hovering face that he realized who it was.

He was a little paler than Eddie remembered, with heavy bags under his eyes and a healthy amount of stubble adorning his chin, but still the most beautiful boy he’d ever seen in real life.

A wonderful sight to be greeted with after…

Eddie didn’t want to think about it too hard, but remembered enough that it was easy to put the pieces together. Hovering near death he’d passed out in Dustin’s arms, but by some miracle he’d made it out.

And he was pretty sure he was looking his miracle dead in the eyes, no pun intended, right now.

Steve had been sitting at his bedside for a while, Eddie realized, hazy memories of the other boy talking to him in the dark fighting their way to the surface.

“I—we almost lost you.”

Steve's eyes shimmered, a hint of tears that Eddie desperately hoped wouldn’t fall when all he could do was watch, even if he didn’t understand what was happening. Sure they’d grown inexplicably close while fighting for their lives, and Eddie was crushing hard, but since when did Steve Harrington cry over him?

Unless…

Eddie didn’t believe in much except good luck and bad luck, that what you give is what you get, and so on, but sometimes, when things got tough, he liked to think it was a pre-payment to the Universe.

As Eddie gazed up into gorgeous hazel eyes, focused on the comforting weight of Steve’s hand in his, he thought maybe, after the worst week of his life, he was due for some big karmic payback.

It would be days before Eddie could talk, longer still before he would get out of that bed and relearn how to walk but Steve didn’t seem to mind. He was there for every moment, good and bad.

And on the day Eddie was finally released, when Steve took him in his arms and kissed him in celebration, he knew he was right.

Great things were coming.

Permanent taglist(open): @penny00dreadful @pearynice @hitlikehammers @bookworm0690 @wonderland-girl143-blog

@goodolefashionedloverboi @themagicalari @awkwardgravity1 @rocknrollsalad

#steddie fanfic #steddiemicrofic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #stranger things #steve x eddie #steve harrington/eddie munson #steddie fic

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starboye · 13 days ago

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Kinktober Day 31

starring: james mcavoy x male reader

request: James mcavoy fic where James is reader’s dad best friend and he is coming over to stay for the summer reader and James don’t really get along at first. But one night James comes out the shower while reader is still awake and James ends up fucking him and eating him out hard and has him worship James body through scent and kissing etc

warnings: smut, cursing, slightly rough sex, cumming untouched, pervy james, sweat kink, unprotected sex, creampie, ass eating, cum eating, slight muscle worship

directors note: HAPPY HALLOWEEN i hope you get a lot of candy or pass out a lot of candy and you better watch some scary movies tonight 🎃👻🍬🦇💀🧡

it's not that you hated james, it's just that he really just wasn't your kind of guy, when he came around he would always get you in a head look and mess up your hair or just 'jokingly' bully you and your dad never said anything to him about it, he just told you that's how james plays.

now he had to stay at your house for the whole summer after something happend with his house, i think it was something about he has renovations going on at his house, him staying in the guest room wasn't any better seeing as it was right next to your room and the walls were pretty thin so you would have to be extra quiet sometimes.

but god you had to admit when he was here he was so sexy, especially when he offered to mow the lawn and he was outside shirtless pushing the mower, sweat dripping down his muscles and abs looking like a greek god, when he came back inside you tried your hardest to hide the boner in your pants but it was kinda hard (pun intended) since it was painfully up right.

you thought james didn't see it until later that night when you thought everyone else in the house was asleep and came out of your room, accidentally bumping into a james who just got out of the shower, his arm subconsciously finding your waist out of pure instinct "oh shit sorry" you go to push off him but your hands couldn't move, to stuck feeling his chest and pecs.

seeing your infatuation with his body he picks you up by your thighs and take you back to your room "your dad's sleep right" he smirks above you pulling at the hem of your shorts "mhm" you nod and he takes the rest of your clothes off along with his towel revealing his girthy cock to you, whimpering at the sight of it making him even more eager to fuck you.

your legs instantly wrap around his waist "you want this cock bad huh" he chuckles and you nod up at him, his shoves his fingers into your mouth, wiping all around it before pulling the soaking things back out and bringing them to your hole, shoving one in then two then three and working them in and out of your to open you up nice and well for him before pulling them back out.

he looks down at you as he pushes his full length into you, your eyes widening in shock at the thickness of his dick, you were pretty shocked to think you were fucking your dads bestfriend but if it meant getting fuked by such a good cock you could give less than two fucks about it being wrong.

his hips start to snap into your ass, his tip hitting your gummy wall again and again, it was a little painful but it felt so good to stop, all you could do was let out little moan, small enough to be heard but not loud enough for your dad to hear and come see what the ruckus was "i saw that boner in your pants earlier today, such a pervy little guy" he taunts you as if he wasn't in his bestfriends sons ass right now.

"shut up please and just fuck me" you whine tightening you grip on his arms as he went harder into you "mmm fuck im cumming" you moan spurting your load all over your chest, head dropping back into the pillow a little dazed as james kept going "cumming without even jerking off? how much more of a perv could you be" he smiles and leans down to kiss you, his tongue maneuvering into your mouth and exploring it, his slightly sweaty scent was filling the room faster and faster with the mix of heat between you two.

your legs starting to go weak around his waist but still strong enough to keep him in you as he came, cum shooting up your ass as he bit back loud groans, pulling out of your messy hole he immediately went down to your ass and licked at it "push it out" he demands and you do so, pushing the load out your hole which he catches on his tongue and slurps up.

beginning to eat you out to get the rest of it, cleaning you up a little more around the hole before standing up "i take it this is gonna be a regular thing" you asks catching your breath "come to my room when your dad falls asleep and it will be" he responds putting the towel back on and walking out.

taglist:@mailmango @spermeboy @ghostking4m @gayaristocrat @addictedtomalepits @staarb0y @crispysoup318 @its-ares @gargoylesworld09 @kadenvatsune @fuckshft @wompwomp-1mh3re

#james mcavoy #james mcavoy x reader #james mcavoy x male reader #x male reader #x male y/n #gay smut #x male smut #x male #gay #male reader #bottom male reader #james mcavoy smut #james mcavoy x you #james mcavoy x y/n #kinktober

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peachsukii · 8 months ago

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What if reader was a new classmate and months went by before bakugou even noticed them? Maybe noticed them for the first time while training one day or something and he became infatuated with reader (NSFW please! I <3 your writing!)

oooooh this is a great prompt, thank you for sending it in!! and thank you so much, it makes my day when someone compliments my writing! 🔥✨

Cruel Compulsions

『 ♡ 』 k.bakugo x fem!reader ꒰ senior year of UA | aged to 18 | infatuated & pining bakugo ꒱ ⇢ as a new transfer from a neighboring hero academy to UA, class 3A welcomes you with open arms. you fit in with the class seamlessly, with the exception of one person - katsuki bakugo. he doesn't give you the time of day, ignoring you any chance he gets since he views you as an "outsider." at least, that's what he projects and not how he truly feels.

꒰ tags & warnings ꒱ 18+ MDNI Smut; masturbation, dirty/lewd thoughts, wet dreams, first-time handjob, first kiss (bakugo) | obsessively infatuated, mutual pining, hidden feelings, avoidant but horny bakugo, mean/aggressive toward reader's attention, awkward confession, sexually-forward and comfortable reader, friends to friends with benefits, fluffy ending ꒰ cross posted to ao3 | wc; ~2.4k ꒱ -`✧ katsuki bakugo masterlist

Bakugo's in the school locker room after the day's training sessions, left forearm against the wall of the shower to hold himself upright with his head hung under the water's stream. His mind is swimming in a sea of dirty thoughts as his right hand fists his dick - your body floating in the aforementioned sea.

He couldn't help it, you're gorgeous and beautiful spank bank material without even trying.

───

You surprised everyone when UA announced your transfer so late in the hero course. He immediately had judgements before meeting you. How did you manage to transfer during senior year from another academy? Would you need special privileges to catch up to the classes' progress? You were probably some rich bitch who had daddy's money buy your spot in the program.

That all crumbled the moment you walked through the door of class 3As homeroom, Aizawa introducing you to the class on a random Wednesday in the summer.

"Treat her with respect. She's a top student from her previous academy and can kick just as much ass as the rest of you."

Bakugo's heart stuttered in his chest, hypnotized by the way your bare thighs complimented the uniform skirt you're forced to wear. Your button up didn't leave much to the imagination in terms of your luscious figure, the front buttons ever so slightly strained over your chest to contain your breasts. His face was hot as he ogled you, unknowingly drinking in your features to commit them to memory. The feeling was foreign as he'd never been so attracted, let alone infatuated, with anyone.

It had been months since your transfer and Bakugo couldn't bring himself to have a conversation with you without wanting to explode, no pun intended. His palms would drip with sweat, ready to ignite at the slightest touch if you asked him a question or greeted him in passing. He'd gotten into the habit of averting his gaze, turning his back to you or simply removing himself from your space if you got too close.

"Don't worry about him," Midoriya commented regularly about his best friend's behavior towards you. "He's not much of a people person. He'll warm up to you when he's ready!"

Months of endless wet dreams, steamy thoughts and longing stares. Wherever you went, you clouded his vision and blocked out the rest of the world. He didn't understand why he was so enamored with you. He just...was. He kept telling himself it wasn't an obsession, just a stupid ass crush that will pass with time.

News flash - it didn't.

He - the Katsuki Bakugo - didn't have the courage to ask you out.

───

The training period was at the end of the school day, thankfully, and most of the others preferred to head back to their dorms to shower, leaving Bakugo alone in the locker room. He was free to moan and groan in peace, the steam of the hot water only adding to his shameless delight.

"Nngh, it's...not...fair," he moans to himself, barely above a whisper. His grip tightens around his cock, hand slipping and sliding at a brutal pace, eyes screwed shut to watch the raunchy movie play in his mind. Your lying in his bed, remnants of sweat from sparring across your bare tits and stomach. Your UA track jacket is splayed beneath you, the only other article of clothing being a pair of pink lace panties covering your center.

Why pink? He didn't know, you just seemed like the kind of girl to wear lacy underwear - well, he wished you were the type of girl who wore sexy panties, especially if it was just for him.

Your lips were parted in anticipation, flush creeping up your chest and neck as it settled across your cheeks.

"Katsuki, please...," you begged, fluttering your eyes up at him. It didn't take much for him to crumble, swiping your panties to the side and thrusting deep into your soaked pussy.

Like clockwork, Bakugo explodes, covering his hand in spend before getting to imagine fucking you. He can never make it to touching you in any of his dreams, you're always just out of reach or he finishes, cutting the scenario short. He rinses the evidence down the drain and turns the water temperature ice cold.

───

The next day, Bakugo sluggishly made his way to homeroom, running a few minutes later than usual. He rounded the corner on the third floor when he practically bumps into you, startling himself.

"Oh! Morning Bakugo, how are you?" you ask, a pleasant smile gracing your lips. He stares at them, assuming you'd just applied lip gloss with the way they shine under the hallway lights.

"Fine." Bakugo turns his eyes to the floor, stuffing his hands into his pockets nervously. There's a pause between the conversation and his first instinct is to shove past you and bolt for homeroom, but he doesn't.

"Can I ask you something?" you say as you grab his forearm to take him away from the stairwell. He recoils at your touch, ripping his arm from your grasp.

"Sorry, I shouldn't...forget it."

You're turning to head down the hallway when his anxiety quiets for a split second, allowing him to speak to you for the first time in months.

"No, wait...'m sorry. What is it?"

Bakugo's eyes haven't left the tiles on the floor, but something is telling him what you wanted to ask was important. You don't turn to face him when your shoulders droop.

"You're always running from or actively avoiding me. Did I do something wrong?" There's a sadness in your voice that makes his heart drop into his stomach. He was an asshole for not thinking how his actions would affect you, too focused on running away like a fucking coward instead of treating you like a person.

"No. You didn't do anythin' wrong," he mumbles, tapping his foot restlessly.

"Then why the hell can you not even stand to be around me?! You're the only person in the whole class who acts like I have the plague."

'Shit, shit, fuck! What do I even say?' Bakugo thinks to himself, thoughts racing to find some kind of excuse. The words bubble up in his throat faster than he can stop them from spilling out.

"It's 'cause I like you!"

Uh oh.

You whip your whole body around to face him, eyes wide with an eyebrow cocked in confusion. "...What?"

His mind is screaming 'run!,' but his body won't move.

Shaking your head, you start to laugh, relishing in the ridiculousness of the situation. He liked you, but had a case of the "eww cooties!" bullshit? Oh, if only you knew.

"I'm not gonna talk about this here, I'll come by your dorm after classes today. Okay?"

Bakugo finally meets your gaze, gritting his teeth to prevent any other unwanted confessions. "...'kay."

You give him a wave and head off toward the 3A homeroom down the hall, leaving him with his thoughts.

───

After class, you keep your promise and head to the fourth floor of the dormitories to Bakugo's room. One tap of your knuckles and the door swings open.

"Hey, still free to talk?" You ask, giving him a second chance to shoo you away.

"Yeah, come in." It was taking everything in him not to dart into the hallway and run until he couldn't anymore. He shuts the door behind you quietly. The latch barely clicks when he feels your hand on his bicep, your grip catching him off guard and causing him to stumble into the wall. Your body is suddenly in his personal bubble, chest pressed against his when your lips crash on to his.

'Is this really fucking happening?'

A surprised groan escapes Bakugo between the kiss, his hands flexing at his sides to keep himself together. He can feel the excess sweat begin to stain his palms.

You pull back with a smack of your lips. "Better?"

His mind was completely blank while simultaneously running at mach speed. How do you look so...stunning, all the time? He could feel the stickiness of your lip gloss on his lips - it tasted better than he imagined it would, a faint cherry flavor dancing on his tongue.

"Earth to Bakugooo!" you call, waving a hand in front of his face.

Bakugo violently shivers, his nerves catching up with the emotions flowing through his whole body.

'Don't be a fucking coward, Katsuki. Just do it!' He screams internally, urging himself to make a goddamn move.

"Oh shit, was that your first kiss?!" you yell, not able to fathom that he had never been kissed. "I'm sorry, I assumed -"

He grabs the back of your head, diving in to capture your lips once more. Time slows to a crawl as Bakugo maps out every inch of your mouth, savoring every second of the moment. Your lips are much softer and plush than he dreamed they would be, and if you weren't holding on to him, he was convinced he'd float away into the stratosphere. You can feel the sweat on his palms drip against the nape of your neck, but it doesn’t bother you. It’s warm, a honey-like consistency seeping into the fabric of your uniform.

He breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against your own.

"I would have assumed someone as hot as yourself would have a body count by now," you tease, tracing a light circle over his exposed collarbone.

"Shut up," he whispers shakily. "Was never interested in that shit."

"Fair enough, but right now, your body is telling me a different story."

You let your hand trail down his body, brushing against his clothed erection. Bakugo's entire body stiffens, all the muscles in his body turning to stone at the featherlight touch of your fingers.

"Tell me to stop and I will."

"No."

The answer is immediate, a growl swallowed by your mouths colliding once again. Your fingers trace the outline of the tent in his slacks a second time before mindlessly fumbling with his belt. His hands are occupied with grabbing your hair and waist to pull you as close as possible, all precaution on his side melting like putty in your hands. The adrenaline rush of it all was fueling the fire churning in his guts, practically high off your affection and you’ve barely touched him.

The belt clasp flops to each side as you maneuver your way through the buttons and zipper expertly.

'How the fuck is this happening right now?'

Your hand swiftly pulls at his slacks, enough to allow room to squeeze through the waistband of his boxers, your delicate fingers wrapping around his dick. It's throbbing, painfully so, and burning hot to the touch. Between sloppy kisses, Bakugo gasps as if it’s his last breath on earth, trembling beneath your palm. You thumb over the tip, using the pre-spend to glide your hand over his shaft. The moan that is coaxed out of him is deep and voracious, hungry for more of your touch. A lightning bolt strikes through your core, his ecstasy fueling your own desire as you continue to clash tongues with him.

“Your moans are so fucking hot, Katsuki,” you pant between kisses. “Way hotter than I ever dreamed they’d be.”

Oh god, you used his name. You’ve never said it before. And the first he’s hearing it is…like this? Bakugo’s rocketing toward orgasm at the thought of potentially hearing it again.

And again. And again.

Sparks are flying in his abdomen, an entire Fourth of July fireworks show erupting as he squirms beneath you. He’s interchangeably moaning and whining into your mouth, shuddering uncontrollably.

“Fuck, ‘m-mmph!”

He attempts to silence himself as he spills out all over your hand and in his boxers, endless ropes of white pouring out of him. You remove your hand from his pants, placing a peck to his cheek and walking into his bathroom.

What. The. Fuck!?

Bakugo’s in the afterglow of his orgasm, awestruck as he slouched against the wall trying to catch his breath. His chest heaved and thighs quivered - the fact that he was still standing was a miracle.

───

The two of you sat in silence on his bed, waiting for the other to start the conversation. He took a deep breath, turning to face you with blushing cheeks.

“I…never, fuck, sorry. I’m fuckin’ nervous,” Bakugo begins to explain, trying to compose himself. You tenderly slip your fingers in his, intertwining them in an awkward hold. It calms his nerves enough to continue.

“I didn’t understand this feelin’ at all. You show up outta nowhere and…knocked me on my ass. I’ve never experienced anythin’ like this and I…didn’t handle it well.”

“It’s alright, water under the bridge. For the record, I always thought you were hot,” you giggle, shooting him a wink. “You just kept running and didn’t let me hit on you.”

Of course Bakugo was his own worst enemy in this situation. He could see that clearly now as opposed to his previous blindness by a fierce case of infatuation. He smirked, finally letting his walls come down - brick by brick.

“I settled for kissing Kaminari one night instead.”

Your comment makes him choke on his own spit, sputtering out, “Y’kissed Dunceface?! When?!”

That gets you cackling, removing your hand from his as you fall back onto his bed. You’re holding your sides while Bakugo’s crossing his arms, nose to the ceiling at your reaction.

“Hah! It was months ago and only once. He cried after.”

Now he’s laughing, breaking his stoic facade. He’s somewhat taken aback by his own laughter, silently acknowledging how easy communicating with you turned out to be. You return to sitting upright and sigh.

“I’m sorry, too, for jumping you like that. We don’t have to talk about it, either.”

Bakugo fidgets with the hem of the comforter on his bed. “I said I didn’t want ya to stop, so don’t apologize.”

You smile, a rosy tint appearing on the apples of your cheeks. “I like you, Katsuki. I’m okay with doing this - no labels, fast or slow - while we get to know each other. No pressure, though. We could never talk again if that’s what you wanted.”

“I obviously like you too, idiot. Just be patient with me. ‘S all I ask of ya.”

“Deal!”

Bakugo leans over and kisses you, soft and slow, a way of him saying thank you. He’s unabashedly on cloud nine, glowing with newfound confidence, all thanks to you.

Did that stop his raunchy and taunting wet dreams in the coming months? Not even a little. He just has a better solution to his growing salacious appetite - you.

⋆ ˚ʚɞ — thank you again @bakubae-by for the prompt! 😊 tags; @slayfics

#bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo smut #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x you #katsuki bakugou x reader #my hero academia smut #bakugo fluff #katsuki bakugo #bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugo #☆.from the stars #☆.rei writes

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hardlyinteresting · 2 months ago

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Lemon drops

Jake Seresin x reader

Nights at The Hard Deck just got a lot more interesting.

Warnings: alcohol consumption, The reader is referred to as she/her, with no physical description, (please let me know if you'd like me to tag anything please), I grew up in an Army household so some of my Navy knowledge may be slightly off base (no pun intended)

This one-shot will exist in the same universe as other one-shots I have planned. But, they can all be read entirely independently.

Word count: 1.3K

Masterlist | talk to me about Jake and Tyler

Friday nights at The Hard Deck are always busy. Sailors and pilots all stopping by on their way home from base eager to let loose, that's to be expected. What he's not expecting is to walk in on a bachelorette party in full swing.

In a Navy town, it's not completely unheard of for last-minute bachelor and bachelorette parties to fill the local dives, but the larger-than-normal crowd and the young woman dancing on one of the tables has Jake rolling his shoulders back before he settles into the night. He'd been looking for a chill vibe, a cold beer and a few rounds at the pool table. But, he won't complain about a night of flirting, he fancies his odds in a room full of jealous bridesmaids and tag chasers.

Rooster and Coyote seem to have gotten a head start if the empty glasses, or the girls they're helping line up shots at the pool table are any indicator.

Leaning against the bar Jake waits patiently for Penny to finish making a tray of shots. Lemon-coloured liquid poured from the silver shaker he's so rarely seen used at The Hard Deck, into sugar-rimmed 1 oz glasses. His eyes follow the tray over to the crowd of already tipsy ladies all dressed up to celebrate the blonde in her “bride” sash and tiara. But his attention lingers on the woman who laughs brightly as she raises the tiny glass for a toast.

“To the bride! I think I speak for everyone when I say that we love you so much, and we're all so excited for this next chapter of your life!” The rest of the party cheers in response, “Now, let's get drunk and start drinking something that's not just sugar”

She's quick to down the lemon drop shot, quickly licking the drip that rolls down the back of her hand. She's sun-kissed and glowing even under the dim overhead lights. She must be from the area, not just passing through. The music is loud and the bar chatter is louder, and she's stunning as she moves her hips to the sound stepping down from the table. She's licked away the sugar rim on the glass by the time she makes it through the crowd to lean at the bar next to him. It's only when Penny sets a beer in front of him that he realizes he's been staring at the mystery girl.

She's even cuter up close. And for the first time in a long time, he's speechless. Several recycled one-liners rattle around inside his head, but not a single one feels like it's worth the breath. Something about the way she moves through the room, either unaware or intentionally disinterested as several other patrons turn their heads to look her way, tells him she'll have no trouble shooting him down. Regretfully, it only makes him more intrigued.

And as if she couldn't get sweeter, the scent of her perfume or her shampoo, or the hell if he knows knocks him back. Brown sugar and vanilla. Of course, she smells like sugar. He scolds himself as he replays the image of her pink-tongued and unctuous in her attempt to clean the syrupy glaze dripping across the back of her hand. He may be a self-proclaimed flirt and widely identified playboy but he does do his best to be a gentleman. Despite his attempts to think of church surgeons, or his mother's lectures, geography lessons, or complex aerodynamics, he knows it will be ages before he's able to completely erase the surprising saccharine bar room sight from his mind.

“Whiskey, please,” she asks Penny, “and thank you for making those shots”.

“For you girls it's no problem,” Penny insists, sliding the glass of whisky across the bar.

If he bothered to look up he'd catch her raking her own eyes across his form, paying attention to read his name badge, and trace his pins in an attempt to keep herself from ogling his broad shoulders, and strong arms. The khaki uniform does him all sorts of favours. Penny gives her a knowing smirk as she slides the whiskey across the bar.

Unashamed, his eyes follow the intriguing girl back across the room lingering too long on the back pockets of her little denim shorts.

He's no stranger to wooing pretty girls in bars. He won't brag, but he's got an admirable success rate when it comes to finding a partner for the evening (and he's never heard any complaints). But, something about this girl is different. She's not just pretty, but she's stunning in a girl-next-door kind of way that damn near knocks him off his feet. The way she talks with her friends, and laughs without hesitation has a smile forming on his own face and he feels like a damn idiot for watching her from across the room. She pays no mind to any of the pilots or other patrons who mosey over to shoot their shot with her and the rest of her party, but she accepts every challenge that comes her way at the dartboard and the pool table.

“What's wrong hangman? Cat got your tongue?” Penny laughs, “I was sure you were going to try to chat her up”.

The truth is for the first time in a long time he feels like he might be out of his depth. Like a schoolboy with a crush on the new girl in class.

“The night is still young,” he shrugs.

But the night flies by, he drinks his beers, and laughs with his own friends, makes his own bets, but never crosses the room.

She buys her own drinks, and corrals her drunk friends safely into the backs of taxi cabs, calling out for them to text her when they get home. And when closing time rolls around she settles her tab and says goodbye to Penny with a hug, and a reminder that she'll see her later.

Jake goes home alone, the thought of the sugar sweet girl on his mind.

When he returns to The Hard Deck next it's a week later. He saunters in with a grin. a bet with Rooster and Phoenix waiting to be won at the pool table, and an ice cold beer with his name on it calling for him.

He heads to the bar first, leaning waiting to be served when he smells the hauntingly familiar smell of vanilla sugar. He's damn near certain his heart stops when she turns around behind the counter, a megawatt smile on her when she says, “hey, what can I get you?”

“Whiskey. Neat. Thanks Sugar,” the name rips off his tongue before he can stop it.

“Coming right up hot shot,” she laughs.

“It's ‘Hangman’, actually. But you can call me Jake”.

She hums, setting his glass in front of him, “you were in here last week, weren't you”?”

“Sure was,” he confirms, allowing himself to memorize the way she leans back against the middle counter, her arms crossed; so calm and so cool. He suddenly feels the need to swallow hard, his cheeks warming under her directed gaze.

“You won a lot of money off of my friends,” he offers when she says nothing else.

She shrugs, “it's a habit I can't seem to break”.

He hopes she never does. Watching Payback and Coyote empty their wallets had been the highlight of his week.

“Well, maybe when your shifts over, you can come and try your luck with tonight's crowd, Sugar,” Jake offers. It's a feeble attempt at flirtation compared to his usual routine, but none of his words seem to be coming out right, his mind going blank each time he looks at her in her jeans and white tank top. Thoughts of lemon drop shots, short shorts, and table dancing fill his mind. Suddenly he's 13 again, asking a girl to the school dance with a racing heart.

“I'm here ‘til closing,” she tells him, saving him from his spiral. She sorts her station and wipe down the bar top, “but don't worry, I'll be able to watch you show off from over here”.

And with that she gone again, moving down the bar to help another customer.

Nights at The Hard Deck sure just got a lot more interesting.

#jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman x reader #jake seresin #jake seresin fic #Pour me another drink

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sinkovia · 10 months ago

Text

Regretful bets

Simon Riley x Fem!Reader

Fluff with light angst

You gaze at the picture of your late parents, a bittersweet reminder of how far you've come. It's been alittle over a year since you joined the task force, and you can't help but feel a sense of pride wash over you. Although you didn't have your family anymore, you'd found a new one within the task force. In the rec room, a small celebration was underway, the team reveling in the success of their recent mission.

The guys decided to buy some drinks and engage in a game of pool. You sat on the couch, focused on some paperwork when Ghost took a seat next to you and handed you a drink.

"Supposed to be celebrating, love, not buried in paperwork," his words and close proximity making your heart flutter. You've held an interest in Ghost since you joined the task force, but you never tried to pursue it, believing he wasn't the type for relationships.

"I know, I just wanted to finish up, get it out of the way. These reports for the last mission have been kicking my ass." You took a sip of your drink.

"I can help you with it if you'd like."

You hesitated, surprised by his offer. "Oh no, it's okay. I know you have your own report to do."

Ghost leaned a bit closer to you, "I've already finished mine. I can teach you a thing or two about getting them done faster."

"Really? I mean, yeah, I'd appreciate that."

"Maybe we can meet over dinner?"

Your mind raced as you processed his words. Was this a friendly gesture or something more? "These files can't leave the base," you reminded him.

"Right, I forgot. Well, we can get dinner and then work on the report after. How does that sound, love?"

Your face heated up, and you stammered out a response, "That sounds good."

"It's a date then. I'll come get you tomorrow at 8." Ghost got up and left the rec room, leaving you in a state of utter disbelief. You rushed to your room and squeezed your pillow, excitement and anticipation swirling inside you.

Ghost took you to a cozy restaurant in town, and over dinner, you discovered his love for telling awful puns. Surprisingly, you found them funny, and the lighthearted atmosphere made the evening even more enjoyable. After your meal, you pulled him to a small traveling carnival nearby where you both played games and he won you a few plushies. As you made your way back to the base, you stood in front of your door.

"We never got to the report," you mentioned with a laugh.

"Maybe we can do them after lunch tomorrow?" Ghost was leaning against the doorframe, he was close, his arm casually resting on the frame above you. You smile as your eyes met his. Breath caught when he lifted his balaclava, leaning in to plant a sweet, soft kiss on your lips, his smile lingering as he pulled away.

"How does that sound, love?"

You smiled as you turned around to unlock your door, looking back for a moment. "I'll see you tomorrow at 4," you said, noticing the wide smile on his face before closing the door, leaving you to get ready for bed. You lay there, smiling, thinking about how sweet he was, nothing like you'd initially imagined. A week later, Ghost officially asked you out, and you had been dating since. A month in a half passed and you couldn't be happier.

You often stayed up late with him, soothing his insomnia, running your fingers through his hair until he fell asleep, making tea for him in the mornings. Many nights, you'd stay up together, talking until you saw the sunrise. You were always there for him. You were walking to price's office when you saw graves walking out of it. He smiled as he approached you.

"Sargeant I was just looking for you." you furrowed your brows a bit in confusion, why would graves be looking for you.

"Is everything okay sir?"

"Price tells me that you're one of his best shots with a sniper."

You blushed slightly, proud of Price's words. "He flatters me," a smile gracing your face.

Graves was quick to get to the point, "I want you to join my Shadow Company."

Your smile faded, and you hesitated, "What? I mean thank you for the offer sir but I can't. I'm part of 141. This is my home. I've built a family here."

Graves looked disappointed but still gave you a nod, placing his hand on your shoulder. "Well, the offer is still open if you change your mind. We leave tomorrow morning."

You and ghost just slept together for the first time since you started dating. You lay on his chest, tracing small circles on his chest while he combed his fingers through your hair. Your stomach grumbled, and you shifted your head to look at Ghost, who appeared lost in thought, staring at the ceiling.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Ghost's eyes met yours as he kissed your forehead. "I'm okay love, just hungry."

"Me too. Want to get some takeout for us?"

"Yeah, let me get dressed."

You grabbed one of Ghost's shirts, throwing it on as you watched him get dressed. He gave you a kiss before heading out. Your eyes go to his wallet on your night stand and you throw on a pair of sweats before running after him. Ghost was walking down the hallway when he bumped into Soap.

"Listen Johnny, about the bet-" Soap laughed, handing over the money from his wallet.

"Bloodly hell Ghost, you finally slept with her? You were cutting it close. You had a week left." Soap was still laughing when he glanced behind Ghost and cursed under his breath, quickly walking away. Ghost slowly turned around and furrowed his brows when he saw you.

"Fuck, Y/n, it's not what you think,"

"You were only with me for a bet?" Tears welled in your eyes as you looked up at him.

"Love, please let me explain." He took a step closer, but you stepped back.

"Don't call me that. Just answer the fucking question." Your voice trembled with anger and disbelief.

Ghost's eyes were desperate as he tried to explain, "No– I mean, yes, Johnny bet me 200 if I could sleep with you within two months, but I swear to you that—"

"200 dollars? That's what I was worth? Everything I did for you was worth throwing it all away for 200 dollars?" You threw his wallet at his chest.

"Y/n please, I love—"

"I hate you." Tears streamed down your face as you turned away. Ghost reached out to grab your hand, attempting to stop you from walking away.

"Don't fucking touch me. I don't ever want to see you again."

You walked away, and Ghost stood there, watching your retreating figure until you disappeared around the corner. His gaze fell to his wallet on the floor, and a polaroid of you two together slipped out. He picked it up, looking at your face, you were both in the middle of laughing when price had taken the picture. The realization of his mistake hit him like a truck.

"Fuck."

You began packing you things, throwing them all in your duffle bag. You picked up the small seal plushy that ghost had won for you on your first date. You leave it on the bed with all of the pictures you had of him next to it. You walk down the hallway and make your way over to graves temporary office. You gently knock before opening the door. You see him gathering some papes and his gaze meets yours. He sees the puffiness in your eyes.

"Is everything okay Y/n?"

"If your offer is still open I would like to join your company." Graves is thrown off by your eagerness as earlier today you had told him you couldnt. He didnt question it, he smiled and handed you patch.

"We leave in an hour." you nod and walk out of his office.

The weight of regret bore down on Ghost, a heavy burden he couldn't shake as he thought back on the time you had spent together. Somewhere along the line he stopped pretending. Somewhere along the line he had fallen in love with you. He should have told Soap the deal was off a long time ago, he should have never taken the bet in the first place. He made a promise to himself to talk to you tomorrow; he didn't want to approach you while you were still so angry.

But that night was sleepless for Ghost. The absence of your presence in his bed left it feeling colder...emptier. When morning arrived, he mustered the courage to approach your door, knocking gently. No answer. He knocked again, and still, you didn't respond. He called out your name, pleading, but the silence was deafening.

Concern gnawed at his insides and slowly he twisted the doorknob. His heart sank as the door opened fully, revealing your empty room. His eyes fell upon the plushie and polaroids on your bed.

No. No, no, no. He refused to believe you were gone.

Panicking, he rushed into Price's office without knocking. Price’s brows furrow in confusion as Ghost asked, "Where is she?"

"She didn't tell you? She joined Graves' shadow company. She left with them this morning."

Ghost slumped on Price's couch, feeling like his heart had been torn out. You had left the task force, the place you had worked so hard to be a part of, all because of him. Regret and guilt washed over him as he realized the enormity of his mistake. You made him happy, and you both could have had a happy life together. He sat there, wondering what might have been if he had only made different choices.

Two years later...

You were inside alejandros base when you heard graves yelling and gun shots in the garage. You made your way out and froze in your tracks when you saw Graves zip tying alejandros hands together.

What the fuck is happening?

A bullet whizzed past your face, grazing your cheek, leaving a stinging sensation in its wake. You turned to see Ghost pointing a gun at you from behind a vehicle. Time seemed to slow as your eyes locked onto his, a mix of surprise and recognition in his gaze. His eyes grew wide as they trailed over your face. For a moment, you both remained frozen in place. But before either of you could react, two shadows tackled Ghost, ziptying his hands behind his back. Your eyes never left him as they dragged him and Alejandro into the base

What. The. Fuck.

You walk up to Graves as he's calling for his men to chase after soap who ran away.

"Whats happening?" He smiled patting your shoulder.

"It's nothing, go back inside and make sure our shadows get them to their cells."

You turned around quickly walking towards Alejandro's cell block, you didn't know why graves betrayed the 141. You had just been working with them.

You had asked Graves if he could put you on comms as you didnt want to see them in person. Thankfully you never had to directly talk to Ghost. Two years had passed but the ache was still as present as ever. You watched as they threw Ghost into the cell, shutting it behind him. He was being treated in a manner that should have left you feeling satisfied, but instead, a sense of unease gnawed at you. You couldn't help but be bothered by the way they threw him in the cell. As the days passed, you found yourself unable to resist the urge to walk by his cell, day after day, a silent presence in his world.

What the hell were you doing?

You walked past his cell door when you heard Ghosts voice from the other side.

"Y/n."

You froze in your tracks, how the hell did he know it was you. The doors didn't have windows.

"How did you know?" there was a long pause before he spoke.

"I know the sound of your walk."

Your feet seemed to move of their own accord, taking you to the front of his door. Without a second thought, you unlocked it and stepped inside, closing the door behind you. His eyes were on you as you entered, and in those moments, you felt an overwhelming sense of longing. You tried your best to maintain a cold demeanor, but your eyes, you knew, were betraying you. In those lingering gazes, you both shared a deep longing, a silent acknowledgment of the feelings that still lingered between you.

"You're so beautiful."

"Did soap bet you 20 to say that?" his eyes went from yours to the ground as the words left your lips.

"Y/n I'm so sorry for what I did to you. I should have never taken the bet. You didn't deserve that."

"You broke my heart Ghost," your voice quivering with the weight of your emotions. "I...I loved you so much, and you didn't even care about me."

Ghost's eyes widen, and he stands up, walking toward you. You instinctively take a step back, and soon, you're backed up against the cell door. He reaches out and cups your face, his taller frame towering over you. You meet his intense gaze with tears in your eyes.

"I loved you so much, I still do," he confesses. Tears streaming down your face, your heartache and longing were laid bare for him to see.

"Liar." You choked out.

Ghost's voice wavered as he tried to explain, "I promise you, after I asked you out, I started to fall for you. I loved you, y/n, with my whole heart. My life was so dull, and I've suffered every day without you by my side since you left. My biggest regret was not telling Soap that the deal was off." You looked up at him, shaking your head as tears continued to fall. His words were filled with regret.

"Ever since you left, the only thing I could think about was the life that we could have had together. The life that slipped away because I was stupid." You buried your face in his chest, overwhelmed with emotion, as you sobbed in his arms. He held you tight, his hand running through your hair.

"I'm so sorry, love," he whispered, his voice heavy with regret.

You pushed your head back slightly to meet his eyes, your own voice trembling with emotion. Not even five minutes with him after two years being apart and you already caved into him.

"Promise me, Promise me that you'll spend the rest of your life making it up to me, and i'll get you out of here."

"Only if you promise to come with me." your brows furrowed and you opened your mouth but ghost cut you off.

"We can fake our deaths, we can get far away from all of this. I dont want to be in a line of work that could easily take you away from me. Two years was hard enough, I couldn't imagine a lifetime without you."

As his words sank in, your mind raced to comprehend his proposal. Ghost wanted to build a life with you, away from the world of shadow companies, the 141, and the constant danger of missions. It was a vision of a peaceful and quiet life, just the two of you in a tranquil home somewhere far away from the chaos you had known. A warm, heartfelt smile spread across your face, and without hesitation, you agreed.

"Okay."

You snuck him out of his cell and made your way over to alejandros, taking out a few shadows along the way. Alejandro nearly smashed your head into the wall but Ghost was quick to let him know that you were helping them escape. Together, you successfully made your way out of the base. Alejandro took the lead, guiding you along the safest route. Finally, you reached a safehouse, and he was about to call Rudy, when ghost stopped him fom making the call.

"We aren't going back." Alejandro looked at him a bit confused, his brows furrowing.

"What do you mean you're not going back?"

"When you see Price again, tell him we were K.I.A trying to get you out," The words hung in the air for a moment, and Alejandro's gaze shifted from Ghost to yours, where he noticed your radiant smile. It became clear to him what was happening, and he nodded in understanding, a smile forming on his own face.

"You can take one of my cars if you need it, I wish the both of you well and thank you for everything you have done for me." Ghost shook Alejandro's hand, and then he took yours, leading you toward his garage.

6 years later...

"Hey! Don't run with a fork; you're going to hurt yourself!" you call out to your 4-year-old child as he dashes around with the utensil. With your 1-year-old in your arms, you watch as Simon swoops in, lifting your 4-year-old off the ground and taking the fork away. You breathe a sigh of relief and smile as you see Simon playfully wrestle with him on the couch.

The both of you have come a long way in the six years since you both ran away and started a life together. Every day you thank yourself for going inside Simon's cell, as your heart swells with happiness at the beautiful family you've built together. He walks over taking the baby from your arms and lifting her up as she laughs. You smile as you watch his radiant smile as he looks up at his daughter. He cradles her in his arms as he leans down and kisses you.

"I love you." He says, and a wide smile graces your features.

"Did soap bet you to say that?."

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