#Bank of Manhattan Building

[newyorkthegoldenage]

Jack Reilly, intrepid photographer, precariously perches on the 72nd floor of the 74-story Bank of Manhattan tower (then the world's tallest building), which was under construction, November 13, 1929. In the distance, the tallest structure is the Woolworth Building.

Photo: Bettmann Archive/Getty Images/Fine Art America

[rabbitcruiser]

Doors, Gates and Windows (No. 82)

Film Center Building, NYC

Deutsche Bank Center, NYC

Lefcourt Normandie Building, NYC

Hearst Tower, NYC (two pics)

COVA Building, NYC

781 Fifth Avenue, NYC

1860 Broadway, NYC (two pics)

former Barbizon-Plaza Hotel, NYC

[visit-new-york]

Evening at 78 Bank Street

Evening at 78 Bank Street

[aiiaiiiyo]

[fixfoto]

Shot Long Island City, view from restaurant Blend on the Water : 45-40 Center Boulevard.

[incognito7dcv]

❤

[witchywithwhiskey]

tempting fate in the CEO's office

pairing: father's business rival CEO!bucky barnes x female reader

summary: you visit your boyfriend in his office to show off your new lingerie, and you end up playing a reckless game when he hast to join a conference call—a call that your father will be on.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, piv sex, creampie, cockwarming, dry humping, little bit of come play, light teasing, choking, light bdsm, semi-public sex, sex with the risk of being caught, exhibitionism, dirty talk, light degradation, praise kink, pet names (darling), unspecified age gap, fluff, established relationship

word count: 6,300ish

a/n: ok! this took me ages because i started writing it before moving and it was difficult to get back into it, but i'm pretty happy with how it turned out all things considered. this chapter is set in bucky's office because that was what won the poll i posted. it was fun to write, and i already started writing the next chapter, so i hope y'all enjoy!!

tempting fate in the park (part 1)

tempting fate on the terrace (part 2)

tempting fate in the CEO's office (part 3)

You’d done a lot of reckless things in your life—like wearing a dress with nothing underneath it to the park, or starting a secret relationship with your father’s biggest business rival—but walking into the busy lower Manhattan office building of CEO Bucky Barnes wearing nothing but a set of lingerie, a long trenchcoat and heels had to top the list.

Still, you didn’t feel any trepidation. Not even as the bottom hem of your jacket fluttered around your thighs, threatening to give anyone in the lobby a peak at the lacy undergarments you’d worn specifically for Bucky. But, though every step was a potential disaster—because if you did flash someone in the lobby your most intimate bits, it would surely get back to your father—you didn’t falter. 

The points of your heels clicked confidently against the marble floor of the lobby and a fearless smile curled your lips. You were having fun with your reckless behavior. Excitement and desire fizzled in your belly, making you feel like you were walking on air as you crossed the floor to the elevator bank that would take you up to the C-suite offices, where you knew Bucky would be.

While you rode the elevator, you couldn’t help but think about how Bucky would react when you walked into his office wearing only lingerie and a jacket. You could easily picture the way he’d look at you—his brilliant blue eyes darkening and his mouth curling into a smirk. And you couldn’t wait to tell him that he was the one to buy you the matching set. 

He’d given you his black Amex and told you to buy something pretty for yourself, despite the fact that you had plenty of money from your parents. You were your father’s daughter, after all, and he’s given you a generous allowance, even as an adult. But Bucky had insisted you spend his money for a change—so you decided you were going to insist he appreciate the pretty lingerie he’d paid for…while it was on your body.

Your smile deepened as the elevator doors slid open soundlessly and you walked into the lobby of the company’s C-suite, giddy excitement thrumming through your body. You couldn’t wait to see Bucky’s reaction to your outfit, but even more than that, you were excited to see your boyfriend.

It still felt a little strange to think of Bucky as your boyfriend. You’d known him as nothing more than your father’s hot business rival for so long, and your relationship was still so new and covert. Neither of you had told anyone about it yet. Everyone in both your circles of friends knew each other, and they all knew your father, so it was too risky. 

But Bucky was your boyfriend, and that knowledge made your heart beat faster in your chest, your smile widening even further.

You were still wearing your slightly goofy smile when you walked up to the desk where Bucky’s secretary sat. She was an older woman with kind eyes, and when you gave your name, recognition dawned in her expression. Her face creased with delicate crinkles as she offered you a genuine smile and waved you into Bucky’s office. 

As you were walking past, she made a comment that Bucky had given her strict orders to always allow you into his office. Your goofy, happy smile got even goofier and happier at that bit of information, and you pushed through the door into Bucky’s office.

The first thing that struck you about the space was how warm and cozy it felt despite the fact that two full walls were taken up by floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking New York City. The whole of Manhattan sprawled out at Bucky’s feet, and you couldn’t help but understand the city’s desire to do so. In your experience, being at Bucky’s feet was an enjoyable place to be.

You bit back a smirk as you looked around the office, taking in the dark wooden furnishings and gold accents. There were plush rugs beneath a small seating area off to one side and another under Bucky’s big desk, giving the space a homey feel that reminded you of his penthouse apartment. The office was professional, but it managed to feel like Bucky, and you couldn’t help but smile at that.

When you turned your attention to the CEO, you found him watching you as you took in his office for the first time. His blue eyes were sparkling and he had a pleased expression on his face.

“Darling,” Bucky rumbled as a greeting, a smile curling the corners of his mouth. 

He looked so handsome, wearing a slate gray suit with a black shirt beneath, the colors contrasting with his golden skin and dark brown beard. His blue eyes were two stars in the sky, and his mouth was a charming curve that made you ache to kiss him. 

When you didn’t respond—because you were too wrapped up in appreciating the attractiveness of your boyfriend—Bucky leaned back in his leather office chair. His eyes stayed fixed on you, his chin tilting up, and you couldn’t help but think he looked like a king lording over his court.

It made you want to kneel.

Instead, you murmured his name with a smile, “Jamie,” and strolled over to his desk, one hand playing with the belt of your jacket that was keeping it cinched around your waist. “I’m not interrupting, am I?” you asked innocently as you walked around his desk and stepped between his spread legs, your sassy smile making it clear you didn’t care if you were.

Bucky only seemed happy to see you, pushing closer in his chair so his hands could slip around the backs of your bare thighs, making you shiver as he murmured, “Never.” 

His head was tilted back a bit to meet your eyes, and his gaze was impossibly soft as he stared at you, making you feel hot and flustered all over—particularly between your thighs. To steady yourself, you slid your arms around his shoulders and ducked down to drop a kiss to his lips, smiling at the slight rasp of his beard. He tasted like coffee.

“Did you have a nice shopping trip?” Bucky asked, his voice quiet and warm in a way that made you want to melt into him. Your fingers idly played with the soft brown hair at the nape of his neck and his smile turned a little mischievous as he asked, “Did you buy yourself something pretty like I asked?” 

Impossibly, you’d forgotten the outfit you’d worn into Bucky’s office, but his question reminded you of the lacy lingerie that was hidden beneath your jacket. You smiled like the cat that got the cream and nodded at your boyfriend, fluttering your lashes at him as you asked a question of your own. 

“Do you want to see, Jamie?” You leaned back and played with the ends of the belt keeping your jacket tied tight around your body, enjoying the way Bucky’s eyes dipped curiously down to your hands. 

His gaze heated, a grin spreading across his face as he slid his hands up from your thighs to your belt. He paused before untying it, flicking his eyes up to yours. When you nodded, Bucky slowly undid the knot, his fingers brushing against your bare skin as he parted the jacket to see what you’d been hiding.

The sharp breath Bucky sucked in when he saw the pretty lingerie you wore, your curves swathed in lace that he’d paid for, was immensely satisfying. Bucky pushed the trenchcoat off your shoulders and let it fall to pool at your feet while his eyes roved over your body like they couldn’t get enough. 

Then his hands seemed to be everywhere—brushing against the sides of your breasts, smoothing over the curve of your waist, groping your plush hips. He touch you greedily as his eyes seemed to devour your appearance, taking in the way the lingerie clung to your body, the way it framed your breasts and barely covered your mound. 

The blue of his eyes had darkened to the color of the ocean by the time he returned his gaze to yours. All he said was, “Darling,” his voice little more than gravel, as if he was overcome by the sight of you in your new matching set. Your breath caught in your throat at the emotion swirling in Bucky’s eyes. “You’re gorgeous,” he rasped. 

A pleased heat spread through your chest, warming your cheeks, and you smiled happily at the sincerity in Bucky’s words. “Thank you, Jamie,” you murmured, ducking down to press another quick kiss to your boyfriend’s lips. 

But Bucky caught you around the back of your neck, murmuring, “C’mere,” before reeling you back in and deepening the kiss. He kissed you thoroughly, his hands sliding down your body to the backs of your thighs, and then he was pulling you into his lap, your knees on either side of his legs so you were straddling him in his leather chair.

So much of your bare skin brushed against Bucky’s suit, and though the fabric was soft, it was a reminder of how little clothing you were wearing. You shivered when Bucky’s fingers traced down your spine, pressing you flush to his chest, the lace of your lingerie teasing your nipples deliciously so that you whimpered into his mouth. 

By the time Bucky pulled away, your lips were swollen from his kisses and the wetness gathering between your thighs had dripped into your panties. When you squirmed on Bucky’s lap, rubbing your chest against his and enjoying the electric shocks of pleasure to your nipples, you felt his bulge press against your lace-covered core. You couldn’t help the little whine that escaped when you rubbed against the hot, hard length of him.

“Jamie,” you mewled, rocking against Bucky’s bulge, not caring in the least that his secretary was sitting just outside the office door. All that mattered was the way Bucky’s cock twitched when you whimpered his name.

“Darling,” Bucky groaned, pleasure soaking his tone—but there was a warning in his voice, too. When his hands grabbed your hips, he didn’t urge you on like you expected. He forced you to stop. You whined pitifully, leaning back to catch your boyfriend’s eye and pouting up at him. “I’m due on a call any minute,” he explained, a regretful look on his face.

You knew you should leave him to it. Bucky was a busy man, after all, and he needed to work—especially if he was going to buy you more expensive lingerie—which you hoped he would considering his reaction to seeing you in your new matching set. You knew it was still early in the afternoon and you should be content with the few moments you’d stolen of his time already.

But your reckless impulses were too loud to ignore, so instead of sliding off Bucky’s lap and putting your jacket back on, you pressed closer, your soft tits trapped against his hard chest. Your lips brushed the shell of Bucky’s ear as you leaned in, making him shudder beneath you.

“Why does that mean we have to stop?” you asked in a soft, sultry tone. Rolling your hips slowly, you rocked your lace-covered core against your boyfriend’s hard cock in a decadent drag that had both of you letting out little groans. “I’m all dressed up in the pretty lingerie you bought for me, why don’t you let me sit on your lap during your call.” 

You nipped at Bucky’s ear before pressing a kiss to his neck just beneath it, enjoying the rumble in his chest as he bit back a moan. 

“And since I’m on your lap, why don’t you let me keep your cock warm in my pussy—‘m so warm and wet for you, Jamie, and I promise I’ll be so quiet while you’re on your call.” 

Bucky chuckled, both of you knowing full well that you were lying, but he didn’t call you out on it like you expected. Instead, he went a different route, surprising you. 

“Are you sure, darling?” he purred, pressing a suckling kiss to the side of your neck that had your head tilting to the side to give him more access. You were so consumed by how good his soft mouth and rough beard felt against your skin that you almost missed his next words. “Every major CEO in the city is going to be on this call—including your father.”

You froze on Bucky’s lap, not even his mouth working against your neck distracting you from what he’d said. Despite your good sense—at least, what little was left of it with Bucky’s bulge pressing between your thighs—you knew you shouldn’t be thinking about tempting fate in a CEO’s office while he was on a call with your father and all their colleagues. But… Well, you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t enjoy the thrill the the idea gave you.

And it was that side of you that prompted you to purr in your boyfriend’s ear, “I’m sure, Jamie,” as you melted back against his chest. A wicked smirk curled your lips as you issued a challenge to the CEO, “In fact, I’m sure that if one of us is going to give us away to my father, it won’t be me.”  

The chuckle Bucky let out was practically sinister, and your hips squirmed reflexively, grinding your wet slit against his hard cock through your clothes. You managed to hold back the soft moan that wanted to escape, and you were proud of yourself. But then Bucky issued a challenge of his own that had you scurrying.

“Well, then, you’ve got about five minutes to get my cock out, darling,” Bucky said, sounding like he relished giving you a deadline and making you hurry. “Or your sweet moans as I’m stretching out that tight little hole of yours are bound to give you away in an instant.”

Desire flushed hot through your body as you scrambled to reach between your bodies and undo Bucky’s pants. He leaned back in his chair and held your gaze, his blue eyes darkening when you pulled down his zipper, both of you smiling at each other. Reaching into his slacks, you pulled Bucky’s cock free, giving him a quick, appreciative stroke and nearly purring at the velvet-wrapped steel in your hand. 

“Hurry, darling,” Bucky drawled, an unrepentant smirk curling his mouth as his eyes went hooded. “Only a few minutes left before I join this call with your father.”

As you lined yourself up with Bucky’s cock, he reached for the phone on his desk. The robotic musical notes of his fingers dialing felt like a ticking clock and your heart beat faster in your chest. Hooking a finger around the lace covering your dripping slit, you pulled your panties to the side so you could sink down on your boyfriend’s hard length.

A loud, filthy moan squeezed free from your lungs, your head tipping back in bliss as you impaled yourself on Bucky’s perfect cock. It felt as exquisite as it always did, Bucky’s thick girth stretching out your tight little hole as he slid inside you. Your moan turned into a high keening sound as you pushed down further on him, the sound filling his office.

The rumble of Bucky’s laughter teased your ears, but as you lifted yourself up only to slide down further on his stiff length, the sound dissolved into a low groan. Lifting your head, you locked eyes with Bucky while you lowered yourself down on the final few inches of his cock, both of you watching each other as your expressions contorted in pleasure. It felt divine to share the moment with Bucky, and it was made all the sweeter with the impending call dangling over your heads.

Your boyfriend wrapped his hand around the front of your throat and reeled you in for a hot, messy kiss, shoving his tongue in your mouth and taking possession of you in a matter of seconds. His lips were demanding, his tongue forceful, and it made all thoughts flee from your mind. You were desire incarnate and you were consumed by the feeling of Bucky inside you, around you, everywhere.

By the time Bucky pulled away, you were panting for more, your hips rocking impatiently on his cock. But Bucky pressed a steadying hand to your lower back, urging you to still, and then he tapped a button on the phone on his desk, his voice drifting past your ear and sounding exactly as he normally did.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” Bucky rumbled smoothly, sounding every bit like the polished CEO that he was. Meanwhile, you pressed your mouth against Bucky’s neck to muffle the heavy breaths that you were still dragging in, willing your heart to slow down from its excited pace. 

But as you calmed, you were able to take stock of your predicament. You were seated on Bucky’s lap, his cock buried in your cunt while you wore nothing more than lingerie and he was still dressed mostly in his suit. To make matters more complicated, he’d just joined a conference call that your father would also be on. You’d perhaps gone far past tempting fate in the CEO’s office, but you couldn’t bring yourself to regret the decisions that had led you to that moment.

Not when there was some fun to be had with your boyfriend. 

While the men on the call greeted each other and talked about their latest golf games, the state of the new Yankees season, and their families—in that order—you focused entirely on Bucky. Looping your arms tighter around his shoulders, you tucked your face into the crook of his neck. Your mouth found the pulse point at the side of his throat, just above the collar of his shirt, and you began sucking softly on the spot that you knew would drive him wild before long.

But then your father’s voice sounded from the speaker on Bucky’s phone—the all too familiar sound of him apologizing for being late—and your entire body clenched tight with surprise and more than a little deviant thrill. When your pussy clutched Bucky’s cock hard, it wrung a strangled sound from the boyfriend your father had no idea you had.

“Y’alright there, Barnes?” your father asked jovially, a tiny hint of the ire he actually felt toward his fellow CEO in his tone. Your father may have hated Bucky, but he knew how to keep up appearances. Mostly.

However, if he ever found out about your relationship with Bucky… You shuddered to think about it.

“Yeah,” your boyfriend responded easily, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your lower back that had you relaxing in his arms. “Just some whiskey down the wrong pipe.”

You bit your lip to suppress the urge to make a snarky remark about taking his cock down your pipe and instead listened as the men on the call all chuckled good-naturedly. Your father’s jocular tone cut through the din as it subsided.

“Hope you’re not getting sick, Barnes,” he said, sounding friendly enough. But there was an undercurrent of malice in his words that made it sound like he was actually hoping for the opposite. Then, as you wondered whether everyone on the call could hear the antagonism in your father’s voice, he dropped all pretenses as he commented, “Though I suppose you don’t have to worry about a girlfriend or wife nagging you to get some rest.” He paused for a moment, like he was relishing his next jab. “You can just call one of your bimbos to take care of you, maybe they’ll take pity on you and give you a discount on their hourly rate.” 

It took every ounce of your self-control not to groan at your father’s comment, but it seemed at least some of the other CEOs on the call didn’t have as tight a grip on their willpower. Frustrated huffs and annoyed groans sounded from the speaker, and you could’ve sworn you hear someone mutter, “Not this again.”

You nearly snorted at the comment, but kept quiet, kissing Bucky’s neck in reassurance that you didn’t take your father’s words to heart. The decision to keep your relationship a secret from your father was one you’d made together, and you knew those kinds of comments were par for the course for Bucky. After all, he was a hot, rich and presumedly single CEO. Of course your father would make an insinuation that he paid for sex. 

But Bucky wasn’t ruffled in the slightest by your father’s dig. If anything, he sank deeper into his plush leather office chair, one of his hands resting possessively against your lower back. Your lips curled and you smirked against Bucky’s neck, nuzzling into him as you felt his cock shift inside you. You squeezed him with your inner walls and he let out a nearly silent snort before responding to your father.

“Don’t worry about me, chief,” he drawled, a little bit of patronizing humor in his tone, especially when he used the nickname to mock your father. “I’m well taken care of.” Bucky’s hand smoothed up and down your spine, making you purr softly in his ear. You could hear the pleased smile in his tone as he went on. “By the way, how’s the family?”

You nearly choked on a laugh, biting down on Bucky’s shoulder through his jacket and shirt to muffle the sound, as your father grumbled and grudgingly muttered, “They’re fine, Barnes, thank you for asking.” His voice was so stiff, and he was so clearly disappointed Bucky hadn’t risen to his bait, that he was clearly trying to save face in front of all the other CEOs. 

You smirked to yourself, leaning up so you could murmur in Bucky’s ear, “Mm, some of us are much better than fine.” Your voice was barely a whisper so you knew the men on the call wouldn’t hear, but Bucky squeezed your hip in warning, which only made you snicker softly. In retaliation, you clenched your pussy around his cock, making your boyfriend grunt quietly.

Bucky’s other hand wrapped around your throat and he gently pushed you back until you were able to see his face. You’d half expected him to be glaring at you for trying to get him to make a noise that would get the attention of the call, but you should’ve known your boyfriend better—he was just as reckless as you. 

Instead of a glare, Bucky’s expression was one of amusement, his blue eyes dancing with mischief and his mouth curved into a smirk that you wanted to lick right off his face. “You’re playing with fire, darling,” Bucky mouthed, but there was no real warning in his words. If anything, it made you want to try harder to get him to make a sound that would get the attention of the other CEOs.

As the business part of the conference call finally began, Bucky made a show of settling back into his chair, reclining his head and giving you a challenging look. An impish smile curled your lips and you rolled your hips. You watched Bucky’s eyes droop in pleasure, his mouth falling open on a silent moan, and a shiver raced down your spine as you began riding his cock. 

You’d intended to torture him by slowly rising up and sinking back down on his hard length, but your boyfriend looked too delicious just sitting there with that smirk on his face. You ducked forward, flicking your tongue against the corner of his mouth, biting back a moan as you tasted him. His beard rasped against your tongue and a burning need flared to life in your chest. You trailed your mouth along his jaw, biting into his beard like you wanted to devour him whole. 

All the while, you rocked your hips as fast as you dared, which wan’t nearly fast enough. Bucky felt good inside you, but your every movement, your every breath was restrained. It made everything hotter, but it also meant you couldn’t truly let yourself give in to the pleasure of him. 

You needed more, you needed Bucky to fuck you. 

Whimpering into Bucky’s beard to muffle the sound, you whined his name in the quietest voice you could manage, “Jamie.” 

Bucky’s hand slipped around the front of your throat, his fingers digging into the sides in a way that made you clench around his cock, your lips parting in a silent moan. Pressing his mouth to your ear, he growled, “Hush, darling, or do you want me to make you be quiet?”

It took you the briefest of seconds to answer his question, your hips bouncing on his lap as you chanted, “Make me, sir, make me.”

“Perfect, filthy girl,” Bucky rumbled in your ear moments before he was standing up and laying you down on his desk as soundlessly as possible. 

All the men on the conference call heard were the rustling of papers, which you knew wouldn’t be out of place, and you had to bite your lip to stop from giggling. Your head was close to the speaker phone and you glanced at it before looking back at Bucky, a challenge in the way you narrowed your eyes and smirked at him. 

Your boyfriend grinned and mouthed the words, “Be quiet, darling,” before pressing a finger to his lips. Then he pulled his hips back and slammed forward, burying his cock in your slick cunt so forcefully, you had to slap both your hands over your mouth to stop from moaning. 

Between one breath and the next, Bucky’s hand was around your throat, pinning you to the hard wooden desk beneath you, his fingers squeezing into the sides of your neck and cutting off all any sound that could even think to dare escaping your lips. Your eyes popped open and you stared up at your boyfriend, spreading your legs wide so he could push deeper into your cunt, the tip of his cock grinding against a spot inside you that made you gush with arousal.

Your face was slack with pleasure, your mouth hanging open as you sucked in tiny, silent breaths, your eyes heavy-lidded as you kept your gaze fixed on Bucky above you. He felt so good inside you, so perfect, his hand around your throat choking you and heightening every sensation in your body.

When you heard Bucky’s name come through the phone, you nearly wailed in protest that someone would try to steal your boyfriend’s attention from you. But Bucky never relented, never stopped fucking you or choking you, slowly pushing you toward your release while he responded to the men on the phone with an even voice. You were too far gone to pay attention to what was being said, but Bucky seemed to know what he was saying, so you left him to it and instead focused on the unrelenting pleasure of his cock.

Eventually, you registered that Bucky was offering his farewells to the CEOs on the other end of the line, and you realized the conference call was coming to an end. If you’d been able to make any sound, you would’ve squeaked happily. Bucky reached across your body and hung up the phone. 

Then your boyfriend was curling over you, his face close to yours, his expression twisting into one of depraved delight as he started pounding into you harder, faster, fucking you ruthlessly on his desk. 

“Did you enjoy that, darling?” he growled, the arousal in his voice making him sound even more gravelly than normal. “Did you enjoy getting fucked on my desk while every CEO in New York City—including your father, who hates me—was on the phone?”

Bucky’s hand around your throat relented enough for you to speak, but you didn’t have any words left in your brain. Not when you could hear the wet sounds of your cunt while he fucked you. All you could do was moan, long and loud, the sound swirling around the two of you and filling the massive space of the luxurious office.

“You’re a temptress, the filthiest fucking girl I’ve ever met,” Bucky rasped, dragging his mouth along your jaw and nipping at your skin as he fucked you harder, grinding against your clit with every thrust. “You’re fucking perfect—you were so good for me, darling, taking my cock so well and staying so quiet for me.”

“Jamie,” you whined, carding your fingers through his soft brown hair and tugging his mouth to yours for a messy kiss. “Jamie, Jamie, Jamie,” you babbled into his mouth, sucking on his tongue and driving him to pound into you relentlessly while you whimpered at how good it felt to finally make some noise. 

“I know, I know,” Bucky rumbled in a warm, pleased tone, and you felt him smirk against your cheek. “My cock feels so good in your tight cunt, doesn’t it, darling?” He rocked into you, hitting that spot inside you and grinding against your clit at the same time, making you cry out sharply. “Yeah, I thought so,” he said, chuckling huskily in your ear. 

If it didn’t feel so good, you might’ve hit him, but the pleasure coiling tight in your body had you too wound up to care. Thankfully, your boyfriend had no interest in making you wait to come. In fact, he was eager for it as well.

“Mm, you’ve been so good for me,” Bucky rumbled, keeping up that impossibly perfect pace of his thrusts. “Come on my cock, darling, want to feel you milking me with your perfect pussy.”

His words washed over you at the same moment that he thrust deep inside and you were helpless to resist the pleasure. Your release crashed over you, Bucky’s hand squeezing your throat in time to choke off the scream that wanted to be let loose. Instead, your mouth opened wide on the silent sound and your body clenched tight, your back arching up off the desk as wave after wave of pleasure consumed you. 

“That’s it, darling, fuck,” Bucky growled, fucking you through your release, his voice going tight as your cunt clenched down hard on his cock. “Gonna come deep in this perfect pussy, and send you home with my come dripping into your new panties,” he rumbled, his thrusts turning wild as he rutted into your still fluttering core. “You’re gonna wait for me in my penthouse, and when I get home, I’m fucking you again in your pretty new lingerie. Gonna show you how much I love seeing you covered in lace and dripping my come.”

Impossibly, your deeply satisifed body tightened in excitement at your boyfriend’s words, and you suddenly couldn’t wait for what he promised. The fact that you’d never been to his penthouse without him was the furthest thing from your mind in that moment. 

“Jamie,” you cried softly before you pulled him down for another kiss. Your legs wrapped around the backs of his thighs and you held him inside you so he could only grind into your cunt. The sounds your bodies made were lewd and obscene, but they were drowned out by the pleasured moans coming from your mouths as you devoured each other.

A moment later, Bucky wrenched free from your mouth as he came with a loud groan. His cock twitched inside you while he filled you up with his warm, sticky come, and all you could do was smile dazedly. Your bodies writhed together as you eked out as much pleasure from your releases as possible, your mouths finding each other again and kissing to muffle your whimpers and groans. 

Together, you caught your breath, and finally settled. Bucky pulled back to stare down at you, a pleased smirk curling one side of his mouth. Then he leaned down, capturing your lips in a slow, lazy kiss. You grabbed his face and held him close, kissing the hell out of him while his cock softened inside you.

As you continued making out on your CEO boyfriend’s desk, you heard Bucky open and close a drawer. But it wasn’t until he pulled away and held up a key that you saw what he’d procured from the drawer. You stared at the little scrap of metal, the magnitude of what it meant making you suddenly uncertain. 

You gave Bucky a questioning look. He smiled affectionately down at you, brushing a kiss to your cheek before explaining. 

“It’s a key to my penthouse,” he said, his voice soft and gentle. “I want you to have it.”

Your eyes widened when he confirmed your suspicions, and though you wanted to reach for the key, you held back. “Are you sure, Jamie?” you asked, trying and failing to hide the waver in your voice. You tried to cover it up by barreling on, “We haven’t even told anyone we’re together.” When Bucky just watched you patiently, you tried for a joke. “What about all your bimbos?”

As soon as the words were past your lips, you wanted to take them back, and you slapped a hand over you mouth as if you could actually stuff the question back into your mouth. It shamed you that you’d repeated your father’s dig at Bucky, but before you could apologize, your boyfriend was carefully prying your hand away from your mouth so he could press a sweet kiss to your lips.

“You and I both know there never have, and never will be any bimbos in my life,” Bucky murmured, pressing his forehead to yours. He was so close, you had to close your eyes, which was a relief because there were suddenly tears swimming in them. “You also know that we decide how we want our relationship to move forward and when we want to tell our families.” He let out a soft exhale. “If you want to tell them before we take this step, just say the word, darling.”

With your eyes closed and Bucky’s warm skin pressing against yours, his familiar and comforting scent filling your nose, you let yourself think about it. You knew you’d have to tell your father about your relationship with Bucky eventually. After all, every time you pictured your future, he was a part of it. But you weren’t quite ready yet. You were still having too much fun with just you and Bucky knowing about your relationship.

“Not yet,” you said, your voice barely a whisper. 

“OK,” he said before giving you a reassuring kiss. “Will you take the key?”

You gave Bucky’s question the thought it deserved and realized you liked the idea of having a key to his place. There were nights when you couldn’t see him because you’d already gone home to your brownstone in Brooklyn before he’d gotten out of a late meeting. If you had a key to his place—and carte blanche from his secretary to go into his office—then you could see him whenever you wanted.

You liked that idea. You liked that idea a lot. 

But, because you were you, you couldn’t give Bucky a simple answer. So instead, you said, “I don’t really have a lot of pockets in this outfit.” 

Bucky pulled back and you opened your eyes to find your boyfriend grinning down at you, happiness sparkling in his blue eyes. You watched as those eyes darkened while he tucked the key into your bra. When the cool metal brushed against your nipple, you gasped quietly, your body clenching lightly around his half-hard cock. 

“Your new lingerie is pretty and comes in handy, darling,” Bucky commented lightly, bending down to kiss you as he eased himself from your body. He swallowed your groan, then stood up and smoothed your panties back over your pussy. He stared hungrily at the juncture of your thighs and you wondered if your combined releases were already leaving a wet spot. 

Before you could ask, Bucky shook himself and he turned his focus to helping you up from his desk. He made sure the key stayed securely in your bra, tweaking your nipple in the process, then stooped to grab your jacket. He held it open for you to step into, then tied the belt tightly around your waist. Last, he pulled you in for a kiss.

“I’ll be back this evening,” he murmured against your lips. “Make yourself at home, darling.” His words were nearly a purr and you shivered in delight at just how much you enjoyed hearing them. 

You were excited to spent the rest of the afternoon luxuriating in everything Bucky’s penthouse had to offer—maybe you’d even ask the concierge for some ice cream and cones—but when you pulled away from your boyfriend, you suddenly felt bereft. Your heart panged in your chest and you gave Bucky a bittersweet smile.

“It won’t feel like home until you get there,” you said softly, pushing up onto your tiptoes to kiss him. “So hurry home, Jamie.” 

Bucky’s hands flexed on your hips, like he was struggling to let you go, but finally you eased away from him and his hands dropped to his sides. Reluctantly, you turned and began walking across Bucky’s office. At the door, you paused and looked back. 

Bucky was still staring at you like he didn’t want to let you leave, but you’d both had enough of tempting fate in the CEO’s office for one afternoon. You gave him one last smile and waved, the key to his penthouse warming against your skin as you slipped out. You comforted yourself with the knowledge that you’d get to see Bucky later. 

As you walked past Bucky’s secretary’s empty desk to the elevator, all you could think was that you had a key to your boyfriend’s apartment. You had a key to your boyfriend’s penthouse apartment—and you couldn’t wait for him to come home to you that night.

Maybe, eventually, he’d come home to you every night.

tempting fate in the park (part 1)

tempting fate on the terrace (part 2)

tempting fate in the CEO's office (part 3)

[rabbitcruiser]

Clouds (No. 900)

New York City

[visit-new-york]

Chrysler Building: A Shimmering Icon of Art Deco Elegance

In the heart of Manhattan's bustling skyline, one architectural masterpiece stands tall, capturing the imagination of all who gaze upon it. The Chrysler Building, a shimmering beacon of Art Deco elegance, is not just a skyscraper but a symbol of New York City's enduring spirit and architectural innovation. With its captivating history, exquisite design, and a touch of old-world glamour, the Chrysler Building continues to enchant and captivate, leaving an indelible mark on the Big Apple's iconic skyline.

The Chrysler Building, completed in 1930, was the brainchild of architect William Van Alen. Its distinctive design is a symphony of style, blending Art Deco with influences from the Machine Age. The tower rises to a staggering 1,046 feet, making it one of the tallest buildings in the world at the time of its completion. Its crowning glory, the iconic stainless steel spire, reaches even higher, ultimately soaring to 1,476 feet. This bold architectural choice, combined with the building's tiered setbacks and intricate ornamentation, immediately sets it apart from its contemporaries.

The Chrysler Building's spire is nothing short of a masterpiece. Composed of seven concentric stainless steel arches, it seems to ascend endlessly into the sky, a testament to human ambition and ingenuity. The polished metal glimmers and reflects the ever-changing hues of the New York City skyline, giving the building a dynamic and ethereal quality. The spire's tip is adorned with a spectacular sunburst design, a symbol of hope and optimism that encapsulated the spirit of the Roaring Twenties.

Beneath the shimmering façade, the Chrysler Building holds a treasure trove of architectural marvels. The lobby, in particular, is a breathtaking work of art. A soaring, marble-clad space is adorned with ornate, artful details, including intricate friezes, Egyptian-inspired motifs, and a magnificent ceiling mural by artist Edward Trumbull. The lobby's elegance and opulence transport visitors to a bygone era of sophistication and glamour.

The Chrysler Building's enduring legacy goes beyond its architectural significance. It has played a prominent role in popular culture, making appearances in numerous films, television shows, and works of literature. Its silhouette, unmistakable and timeless, is a symbol of New York City itself, representing both the city's storied past and its ever-evolving future.

Yet, beneath its polished surface and captivating design, the Chrysler Building harbors an air of myth and mystery that adds to its allure. One enduring legend is the tale of a secret spire race between the Chrysler Building and the Bank of Manhattan Trust Building (now known as 40 Wall Street), a nearby skyscraper under construction at the same time. This tale, though perhaps more myth than fact, only deepens the intrigue surrounding this architectural wonder.

The construction of the Chrysler Building was not without its challenges. The architects and builders had to contend with the limitations of 1920s technology, including the absence of modern safety measures and equipment. Nevertheless, the determination and expertise of the builders triumphed over adversity, resulting in an enduring symbol of human achievement.

As we look ahead to the future, the Chrysler Building continues to stand as a symbol of resilience and creativity. While no longer the tallest building in New York City, its timeless elegance and iconic spire remain a source of inspiration for architects, artists, and dreamers alike. Recent renovations and preservation efforts ensure that this shimmering gem will continue to grace the Manhattan skyline for generations to come.

For those who wish to experience the magic of the Chrysler Building firsthand, tours are available to explore its exquisite lobby and learn more about its history and architectural significance. Standing in the shadow of its gleaming spire, visitors can connect with the past, marvel at its beauty, and imagine the countless stories that have unfolded within its walls.

In a city that is constantly changing and reinventing itself, the Chrysler Building remains a steadfast symbol of New York City's enduring spirit, artistic excellence, and architectural innovation. Its shimmering spire reaches for the heavens, while its hidden treasures and legendary history capture the hearts and minds of all who encounter it. As an icon of Art Deco elegance, the Chrysler Building is not just a skyscraper; it's a living testament to the dreams and aspirations of a city that continues to inspire the world. It's a reminder that in the ever-evolving urban jungle of Manhattan, the Chrysler Building's brilliance still shines as brightly as ever, inviting all to partake in its timeless allure.

Chrysler Building -  Next page>

[heartthrobin]

here kitty kitty

miguel o’ hara x gn!reader

wc: 1.2k

warnings: sunshine reader, grumpy miguel, also lovesick miguel, tooth-rotting fluff, kittens :)

an: went to go see ATSV again today and was thinking about my man so i needed to get this out. remember to reblog and comment to support your favourite writers <3

summary: you want a kitten. Miguel doesn’t want to share.

the air on earth 991 was cold.

an icy white blanket draped over the tops of the roofs in Manhattan, broken only by the red streaks whizzing between buildings - the serene snowy landscape interrupted by echoing grunts of fist colliding with metal.

even over your suit, the cold bit into your arms and up between the tendrils of your hair as you free fell down the side of a bank.

“Pav, on your left!” Jessica’s voice echoed down your earpiece.

you spat out a web at the building adjacent, body twisting and turning between the flailing green arms of the Dr Ock that had appeared on this earth where he most definitely did not belong.

a crack rung down the alleyway where Miguel’s foot connected with the anomaly’s jaw. a groan followed quickly after it and metal arms grappled at low hanging ledges, crumbling them beneath monstrous pressure.

“hey Pav,” you called your best friend over the microphone, sing-songing his name. “bet you can’t pin down more tentacles than me?”

“ha,” his voice bounced quickly back. “you are so on!”

you kicked off the edge of the red-brick side of the building, swan diving between flying metal.

thick white webs tangled over the nearest tentacle, your ankle wobbled dangerously beneath you when you landed against slippery ice-bitten tar.

“yn—“ a voice called through your earpiece again. “—stop being reckless. focus on his abdomen, it’s exposed.”

you giggled merrily, stomach swooping when your released a web and arched into a backflip far over Dr Ock’s head. “take a chill pill, Miggy.”

he hated when you called him that at work. preferred when it was shared in the privacy of his bed, when you’d lean lazily over his broad chest and pick at flecks of hair over his forehead.

“you’ll crease that pretty forehead, baby.” you crooned and then grunted, tugging down on the web that you’d managed to tangle around a metal arm.

Pavitr flew past in your peripheral vision. he sent a splatter of web straight at the anomaly’s face: there was a giant roar and the kick of Jessica’s motorcycle.

“para.” Miguel scolded, but you could hear the blush in his voice.

your mouth opened - in the corner of your eye you watched Jessica turn her head away - unleashing a supersonic scream that rippled down over the figure of Otto Octavius. trembling hands came over his ears, a useless attempt at defense, and four tentacles writhed painfully against the grey coloured sky.

Miguel and Pavitr came down in unison towards his exposed cranium.

it all seemed to end within seconds. Dr Ock concealed in the chamber of the portable prison and you panting over the sidewalk.

snow fell gently over the scene, the air unshaken by the violence down in the street. crumbled bits of rock littered car roofs and bodega doormats.

Jessica was leaning against the seat of her now parked motorcycle, Pav was strutting towards your figure and Miguel was edging down the side of the nearest building.

“i took him down so, technically, i won. you owe me a soda.”

Pavitr’s palm closed over your shoulder, warming the spot under his grip. “woah, woah woah. technically, you wouldn’t have done anything if i hadn’t screamed—“

the end of your sentence dissolved, abandoned. on the inner side of the sidewalk, close against the wall of the shut laundromat: you noticed a tiny black figure against the pure white snow.

“what—Pav look …”

you crunched through the knee high snow towards it, kneeling to scoop up the shivering creature.

two giant yellow eyes blinked down from where you held it up against the dying afternoon light.

“it’s a kitten.” your heart clenched tightly in your chest.

Pavitr reached a hand over, scratching a spot on the creature’s head with a single finger. the cat was barely bigger than a barbie doll. he meowed softly.

you tucked him against your chest, wrapping your arms over his small figure. “are you cold, sweetheart? you wanna come home with us?”

a tiny black tail swished under your arm. Pavitr laughed, “yeah. like Miguel would let that happen.”

you huffed. “that softie? he’s easy to break.”

“let’s get moving. back to HQ.” as if summoned by the mention of his name, Miguel was moving towards the team.

Jessica didn’t need to be asked again and disappeared through a blurry yellow, orange and red portal before Miguel had even fully reached the sidewalk.

the portal floated in place, buzzing and hissing with it’s brightness.

you turned to your boyfriend, black kitten tucked against you. his gaze was focused over his watch, tapping at the little yellow keyboard.

“Miguel.” you whined lowly. his eyes flickered down to you, drifting curiously over to the creature in your arms.

“mhm?” he hummed lowly, cautiously.

“isn’t he cute?” you pressed.

Miguel’s arms fell to his side. his face remained stoney. “yes. very cute.” his words were as interested as his expression. scarcely.

you stepped closer to him, invading his space in a way you knew nobody else ever could. your arms nudged his lower chest.

“he looks kinda like you, baby. all dark hair and big eyes.” as if he knew he was being mentioned, the cat stuck his little head out from the crevice of your arm to look up at the giant looming spider.

“what do you want?” he sighed softly, like he wasn’t absolutely dissolving under your sweet syrupy gaze.

“can’t we take him home?”

“you know we can’t do that.” his hands found his hips.

“he’s cold.” you shuffled forward, pressing up against his figure: jutting out your chin to rest on his warm chest. “he’s shivering, look.”

“that’s too bad for him.”

“are you really so heartless, Miguel?”

Miguel shrugged. lashes fluttering where his eyes were raking up and down your figure.

“yes.” he settled on.

it made you chuckle. your laughter bubbled against his suit, rumbling the kitten in your grasp. “no you’re not. you wouldn’t let me annoy you like this if you were.”

“maybe.” one hand came off his hip, running it’s palm over your sweaty forehead and pushing stray hairs back in place. he leaned down and pressed a warm kiss there. “but that doesn’t mean you’re keeping the cat.”

“aw, you guys are so adorable.” you’d just about forgotten that Pavitr was there. “it’s making me sick.”

Miguel flashed shining white fangs at him, a growl echoing from the depths of his throat.

“yeah, yeah.” Pavitr groaned, sidestepping his boss before disappearing into the portal. “i’ll see you two back at HQ.”

Miguel ushered you away. you set the kitten close to the door of a bakery where warm air was curling out from inside.

he was waiting for you by the portal, hand outstretched.

you took it, bumping into his side with the purest intention of annoying him.

“you gonna get me a cat, Miggy?”

he huffed. “what, so i can fight for your attention in my own apartment? no ways.”

you fell into step beside him through the portal. the headquarters appeared fuzzily into view.

“we’ll see.”

-

it took less than a week of pestering before Miguel arrived home late after work with a tiny black kitten in a box.

you’d kissed him drunk and promised that he’d forever remain your favourite clawed and fanged creature in the apartment.

he didn’t seem to mind too much after that.

to be fair, his lips were too swollen and your tongue was too far down his throat for him to protest anyways.

-

pls comment and reblog! <3

taglist:

@red-hydra @ihavemanyhusbandfandoms @ladybambifae @jimins-vanillaflavoured-cum-blog @koshi-sama @moisttowlett @gavvaiins @niffysboxers @joemamamatheslayerr @thel0v3hashira143 @bonquequehere18492 @crazy-ravioli @prettygirlpattinson @sarapaprikas-blog @novelaaaaaaaa @novadragondoll @homowitch @tamashiiraiden @airachniide @stnao @robinastro

[iemconfused]

some, definitely not all, of my favorite spider-verse bits/details (most if not all of these have been pointed out to me by other people or i’ve seen someplace on the internet, in the interest of giving credit where credit is due):

- “yeah, i think it’s a banksy”

- the foam party coffee shop opening in itsv, then in atsv miles & the spot go to foam party from the car wash bringing in a bunch of soapy foam with them

- miles not knowing what comic con is in both movies

- “sunflower” playing in different languages throughout the spider-verse in atsv

- mayday doing stuff for herself, sometimes with the web-shooter (taking her first chase selfie, hanging upside down & pointing out to gwen, pulling down her beanie (MIND YOU THIS CHILD IS AT MOST 7 MONTHS OLD))

- hobie calling gwen “gwendy” and miles “peter pan”

- how natural and realistic jeff and rio are as parents and as a couple in general

- miles in itsv and jeff in atsv going down the stairs instead of taking a big jump

- just the thinking ahead of ‘BAGEL!’ in itsv

- double meanings and doubling in general in atsv (miles “unless you bake two cakes”, chai tea, naan bread, miles 1610 and miles 42, pav “i can do both”, gwen “i was doing both”, etc)

- miles saying “i’m spider-man, i’m not grounded” when he goes to his room, but hesitating when gwen says “bummer. is spider-man grounded?”

- gwen trans colors :D

- [EDIT: this one isn’t true- it would’ve been cool for storytelling so i’m sad but it’s ok] miles and gwen having the conversation that they did at the williamsburg bank building, which (according to somebody on the internet) is where gwen fell in tasm2

- ALL of the variants in spider society <3

- mumbattan = mumbai + manhattan

- hobie turning different colors around different people

- when people get electrocuted, their nervous systems light up instead of their bones

- peter b taking care of himself before coming back to mj in itsv

- character designs reflecting their voice actors

there are so many more things, especially because it’s been a while since i’ve gone back through itsv. but i love the spider-verse so damn much. it’s wonderful and i have nothing but respect and awe for everyone involved in the creation of it

[sunflowersandsapphires]

An Unfortunate Coincidence

In All The World, Chapter 1.1

Series Masterlist         Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

summary: Frank Castle is just trying to focus on his stakeout and avoid thinking about his past. However, his plans are abandoned when he spots a familiar face approaching your apartment.

warnings: swearing, Frank and Matt being little shits, brief descriptions of Matt's labyrinth of internalized guilt, very short semi-smut scene (as always, MINORS DNI)

a/n: Ahhhh I was so excited to begin this new series that I accidentally wrote almost 7k for it (and it's not even done). Here is the first chapter that accidentally became a three-shot. I really hope you all like it! Please let me know if there's anything you wanna see in this verse!

w/c: 4k

“In all the world, there is no heart for me like yours. In all the world, there is no love for you like mine.” — Maya Angelou

Crouched on the damp gravel roof of some rundown apartment building, Frank tilted his head to stretch the muscles in his neck. After a few hours peering into his scope, it was starting to ache like hell. Roughly pinching the back of his neck between two fingers, he kneaded circles into it, attempting to alleviate the pain without changing his position. It wasn’t an optimal night for thwarting an armed robbery, given the shitty weather and lousy visibility, but he was determined to disband this particular troop once and for all. 

The cocky fuckers had been one step ahead of him for weeks and he’d finally found the next bank they planned to hit—at least, he hoped that would be the case. 

It wasn’t quite raining, but Manhattan was draped with a patchy fog and the condensation was enough to mist Frank’s face as he lay in wait. While the lack of a clear night would help conceal him and his guns, it also meant he had to get much closer to the site than he would have liked. More distance meant more time to pack up before he had cops on his ass. 

This particular location was especially irritating because the angle of his scope ran directly past your apartment. 

Seeing a warm yellow light in the window nearly left him a distracted, guilty mess. You were clearly home from work. Maybe cooking dinner? Or lounging on the couch he’d crashed on more than he wished to admit. He should probably send you a text to let you know he was still alive—but the thought of that made his body go rigid. 

Despite his lacking communication, and your profound exasperation for that specific trait of his, you never seemed to be out of patience for him. You were reliable, compassionate, and far too good for him to fuck up your life more than he already had. You were the only family he had left, and he was determined to keep a far enough distance to keep you safe.

Which is why his line of sight was currently positioned just past the edge of your apartment window—simultaneously shoving all his remorse deep down where it didn’t need to be acknowledged. Taking down a group of dangerous scumbags with a sniper rifle would be hard enough without being plagued with childhood memories and regret.

Normally, repression was a simple solution to this issue—they do say that practice makes perfect after all. However, mental gymnastics can only do so much to combat adrenaline. Hypervigilance had broadened his peripheral vision, his gaze sweeping the horizon automatically like a prowling animal, pupils blown wide as he absorbed every movement around him. Each flicker of a lamp bulb or ripple in the fog made his grip tighten, eyes flitting between the stimuli as if he was watching a ping pong ball bounce between players. Each motion only held his focus for a moment, his subconscious analyzing them for possible threats within a flash of a synapse before his attention returned to the task at hand.

Through the viscous haze draped over the city, another movement captured his interest. A dark form gliding over rooftops, diving over the beams of moonlight scattered across the vapor without a trace. Scoffing lightly, Frank rolled his eyes. Leave it to Red to show off without even knowing he had an audience. Fuckin' prick.

Chuckling to himself at the idea of firing a blank to give Altar Boy a scare, his laughter quickly faded as the Devil of Hell's Kitchen circled around, headed his way. Frank knew the guy had a freaky mechanism that allowed him to navigate without sight, but there was no way he'd picked up on Frank's presence from nearly a dozen blocks away, right? It wasn't likely that his bloodhound nose was THAT good at picking up the scent of gunpowder.

Skin crawling with unease, Frank's fingers traced over the worn handle of the blade tucked in his belt. After a few weeks being blue-balled by low lives, he wasn't necessarily opposed to a rooftop spat with the personification of Catholic Guilt. Fundamental differences aside, the kid could fight. And it wasn't like Frank had a line up of sparring partners these days. He was beginning to feel a bit rusty. 

To his dismay, the glorified-pajama-clad vigilante never reached him. Instead, he leapt onto the roof of a nearby building and began clambering down the fire escape.

With each of Red's steps, Frank's heart rate climbed, his ear drums ringing alongside his pulse. A shudder shot through him as he followed the other man's path, his body suddenly overtaken with malaise as he inched his scope towards the location he'd been trying so hard to ignore.

There was no way.

Red vaulted over a railing and down a story, his graceful trek slowing in pace.

There was no fuckin' way. It was an unfortunate coincidence. A stroke of Frank's continued bad luck, nothing more.

He was on your story now, close enough that Frank could see his haughty smirk, aimed in the direction of the glimmer Frank had successfully avoided all night.

“Keep movin', Red.” Frank muttered, muscles tensing with dread as he watched the masked lawyer hurdle over a balcony with a twist of his body, tactical shoes perching steadily on the edge of your cement outcropping. “No, no, no. Absolutely not, you asshole.”

Basking in the glow of your apartment window, Murdock broke into a roguish grin leaning backwards against the barrier, a few inches of synthetic stone between him and a twenty story fall. A shadow fluttered into Frank's vision, settling comfortably over Murdock's proud stance as a resident approached the terrace.

Sliding the window open with delicate fingers, your torso tilted out of the safety of your apartment, your beaming smile ever-present as Red posed for you. Strutting forward at a snail's pace, Frank could imagine the laugh that tumbled out of your mouth as you snatched him by the wrist and tugged him against the frame of the window. Time had seemingly slowed, Frank fixated on Matt's smug expression as he tipped his face towards yours.

As your lips met, Frank's vision flashed crimson, rage bubbling in his veins. Grinding his teeth furiously, Frank shoved himself out of his crouch, hefting his rifle onto an open canvas bag and stomping off.

“Oh, don't start with me.” You scolded gently as the lightbulb above your stove quivered uncertainly. Swiping a finger over the switch in a dramatic motion, the bulb sparked on the second try, sapping energy from the weak electrical current and illuminating your kitchenette with a soft warm light.

Flexing your sock-covered feet on the prehistoric checkerboard tile, you raised your arms above your head, arching your back into the stretch with a pleased groan. You'd done a lot of sitting today, hunched over stacks of papers scrambling to understand the new curriculum requirements sent out by your district in the humid closet-of-a-classroom you adored.

Pulling out your trusty, slightly crooked frying pan, you held it a few inches above the burner as you cranked the knob. Once the gas had lit properly, you positioned the pan just so and bustled about, readying the ingredients for a simple meal. Smacking the faucet handle, you tapped your foot to the beat of the song playing softly from your cheap speaker, letting the water run clear before rinsing a fistful of veggies in the feeble stream. Some of the produce was tossed straight into the hot oil, the rest you needed to chop first.

Thankfully, you were only making dinner for two, which meant preparation only took a few minutes. Once your vegetables were cooked and your noodles were boiling, you whipped up a simple sauce and brushed your hands together. Now came the tough part–waiting.

Matt's nightly routine typically made it difficult for you to spend the evenings together—not that it bothered you. Your evenings were typically spent shoving handfuls of chips into your mouth as you watched brainless TV or taking short naps to recover from the day. You were happy to continue those habits and feel truly rested when your boyfriend was finished being a hero for the day. This week was an odd one though, with late staff and board meetings pushing your normally-early supper back a few hours.

When you'd originally mentioned this change to Matt, his face had lit up, inspiring a smile of your own. After a minute of your pestering, he'd finally revealed his idea.

“What if I stay at yours this week?” His expression was soft, his attempt at a smug tone failing to conceal the jagged edge of his unvoiced worry that you'd decline, that he was being clingy—two insecurities you'd been steadily chipping away over the course of your eight month relationship.

Nearly tackling him with a hug, you had peppered his face with kisses, making him laugh. “Is that a yes?”

“That sounds perfect, Matty! I'll be dying to see you after sitting at conference tables all day.” You'd lamented, trailing a finger over his chest as it shook with a rumble of a chuckle.

“So you're saying I shouldn't practice my opening arguments for you? Detail the intricacies of mutual acquiescence and how it was displayed by the adverse parties?”

“Despite your attempts to confuse me with made up legal-sounding words,” Hooking your arms around Matt's neck as he laughed, you'd begun swaying slightly, rocking the two of you from side-to-side as you spoke. ”I'd happily listen to you talk about anything, love. You could describe the process of paint drying to me and I'd still enjoy our time together.“

Flushing slightly pink, Matt turned his face away from you with a scoff. ”Hmm, maybe I'll bring some of my old law textbooks by sometime and we can test that theory.“

Curling a finger around his chin, you gently pulled Matt's face back to yours so you could kiss him. “I mean it, Matthew. You can make anything interesting—it's one of your many gifts. And you've worked hard on this case! I'm happy to be your guinea pig.”

And you'd meant every word. Sitting here in front of your stove, you couldn't think of a better way to spend your evening than watching Matt in his element. As you stirred everything together in a pot over a low flame, your mind began to wander. Matt was wonderful, and attractive for many reasons, but the voice he used when addressing a courtroom? The thought of it alone brought heat to your cheeks. He didn't need to worry about keeping your attention, that was for sure.

The light rapping of a knuckle on your balcony window made you jump, your nose crinkling with slight embarrassment as you realized you were no longer alone—and Matt could probably tell where your mind was detouring from behind your fingerprint-smudged window. Scurrying to grant him entry, you couldn't help the excited smile on your face as you shoved the thick glass off of its sill.

Matt looked phenomenal, draped in black woven fabric that was just tight enough to accent his bulging muscles. Lines of off-white rope were coiled around his hands, trailing up his forearms like a thin pair of serpents. Though he was breathing heavily, he was smiling and didn't appear to be bleeding out or gravely injured.

“Am I allowed to come inside, or am I supposed to stand here so you can ogle me all night?” Matt asked gleefully, stretching his hips so his abs swelled against the long sleeve black tee he was wearing.

“Hmm, see I would let you in, but you'd make such a beautiful decoration..” You jested, grin only growing wider as the light from your apartment revealed Matt's blush. You loved watching his cheeks flush pink when you complimented him—his smug exterior faltering as he became slightly bashful. Deciding to cut his hammering heart some slack, you moved on from the praise. ”You're early, love.“

With a deep chuckle, Matt gave a one-armed shrug, striding towards you. ”I had a date.“

Scoffing out a laugh, you reached an arm out of your apartment, the cool outside air curling around your skin and raising the fine hair along it. As water vapor made contact with your skin, the tiniest drops of condensation beaded against your warm flesh. You reached for Matt, who was still a victim of the pitiful rain storm out on your terrace. Fingertips closing around his wrist, you pulled him towards you—other hand coming up to scratch at the base of his scalp when he was within range. “Matthew, we talked about this. You don't need to cut your deviling short to please me. I won't be upset if you—“

Cutting of your gentle chastising with a kiss, Matt knocked his forehead against yours, hands leaving the embrace to cradle your jaw. The dense fibers of the cords around his hands prickled against your skin, a much rougher feeling than the soft fabric of his mask against the bridge of your nose. His breath drifted over your lips as he spoke. “It's been slow. Promise.”

Nuzzling into his touch as his thumb traced over your cheek, your smile softly returned. “Ok, that's good. Hungry?”

As one of Matt's hands slid from your jaw toward your nape, the ropes rolled over your skin, scratching lightly against it. Fingers pushing into your flesh with a tad more heat, Matt smirked—his lips brushing over yours. “Starving.”

Matt nipped lightly at your chin and you stifled a giggle, kissing him sweetly before stepping back into your apartment. “I meant literally, Matt. C'mon, I need some food in me before you pin me down to mark me up.”

Towing Matt through your window with both hands clamped around one of his steady arms, you squealed as he lept over the threshold, gathering you into his arms in one fluid movement. Mashing his face into the side of yours, a low rumble sounded from the back of Matt's throat, as if he was purring. The tip of his nose was chilled, barely covered by the mask as he galavanted around in the unusually cool night air. He nestled you against his chest, burying his nose in your hairline just above your ear.

“I think we both know how much you want me to do just that, sweetheart. Are you sure you want to wait until after dinner?” His teasing voice was pitched down, sounding more like the Devil of Hell's Kitchen than Matt Murdock. A shudder crept down your spine, an exhale falling from your lips at the suggestion.

“Mmmm, I, uh, I thought I was. Now, I'm not so sure.” You murmured, warmth flooding between your thighs as Matt's teeth scraped the shell of your ear.

Chuckling darkly, Matt's hand splayed against the small of your back, his lips planting a kiss on your temple. “We'll have to see where the night takes us then. What did you make? It smells good.”

Matt broke his hold on you, taking a seat at your dinette without even acknowledging how aroused he'd just made you. His ability to trip your brain up with a few well-placed touches was dangerous, dammit.

Blowing out a slightly exasperated breath, you let your hand drift over Matt's shoulders before you lifted the pot from the stove. Using the pair of tongs you'd used to toss the vegetables, you plated two servings of the meal you'd thrown together. “Those peanut noodles you liked so much. I was craving them. But don't worry, I only gave you broccoli and edamame this time.” 

A few weeks ago, when you’d first found this recipe, Matt had enjoyed it—but only after you’d stopped him from choking down the mushrooms and bok choy mixed into the dish. The poor man was stifling gags as he bit into the vegetables, later explaining that they were on the list of “textures Matt can barely tolerate”. He had apologized profusely, not understanding why you weren’t upset with him for not enjoying the food without alterations. This time, you’d planned ahead. 

Clearly also thinking of your last attempt at this meal, Matt wrinkled his nose with a grimace. “Thank you. I'm sorry to be difficult.”

Rolling your eyes, you slid one of the bowls in front of him, using one finger to delicately lift the mask from the top half of his face. As you peeled the sweaty fabric off of his head, it revealed his mussed hair—the strands sticking out in little tufts after being mashed beneath the cotton for a few hours. You bit your lip to stifle a giggle, bringing your fingers up to smooth the mess. “You're not difficult, you're just human. And you have some impressive helmet-hair tonight.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. I heard this was how the kids were wearing it these days. Am I pulling it off?” He grinned at you, hands landing on your waist as you kicked a leg over his lap to straddle him.

“You look a bit like a newly-hatched chick in an incubator.” You snickered, humming appreciatively as he tightened his grip on you, pulling you flush against his chest.

“Darn. I was hoping to change up my style to something more modern.” Matt quipped, instinctively tilting his head up as you scratched at his overgrown stubble with your nails.

“I never said it looked bad, handsome.” You explained, nose rubbing against his as you moved in for a kiss. “You look as gorgeous as always.”

With a greedy noise, Matt's hands dug into the soft flesh of your stomach. His lips were relaxed, happily letting you slide your tongue between them. His skin was warm with exertion and want, his touches grappling and desperate as he pulled you impossibly closer.

Dropping your arms to rest on his shoulders, you threaded a hand into his hair, tugging lightly at it as he kissed you. Matt moaned softly, his movements halting like a cat who'd been scruffed. You felt a rush of pride as Matt went lax against you. Tipping your weight into him, the force shoved his spine against the back of the chair, the wood creaking in protest.

It hadn't even been a week since you'd last seen him, last felt him–but it was as though he'd been away for years. Each time he held you against him, expression soft with affection, butterflies swarmed your stomach. To the rest of the city, he was a ruthlessly fearsome vigilante. But with you, he showed his underbelly. Trusting you enough to be soft, and to want softness in return. It made you giddy, being one of a chosen few to know the secret truth about Daredevil. And you were immensely fond of the man behind the mask. 

With a gasp, you began to lose your train of thought as the building heat in your core grew uncomfortable. Rocking your hips against Matt, he tensed his thigh as you ground down on it, letting you take what you needed from him. Moaning softly while the friction from Matt’s leg rubbed pleasantly against your clit, you circulated your hips, swinging them upward with the intention of using gravity to help you ride Matt’s statuesque thigh–but the world had other plans.

A pounding knock startled you out of your passionate stupor. Flying backwards in surprise, you collided with the solid wooden edge of your dining table. Grunting quietly at the impact, you swiveled your head towards the door when the banging continued, your heart pumping furiously as your concern built. Matt's hands slipped between you and the injurous furniture, shielding you from worsening the inevitable bruising the sideswipe had caused.

Though his head was cocked, his eyes blankly trailing along your torso, searching for any damage you'd done, he was wearing a resigned expression.

“Who—” You started to ask, but a brusque deep voice called for you through the door.

“I know you're in there.” The cause of the disturbance was no longer a stranger, but that didn't fix the sinking feeling threatening to drag you through the creaky floor.

”One second, Frank.“ You grimaced, swinging yourself off of Matt's lap to open the door.

As your weight lifted off of him, Matt chuckled humorlessly. “Took him long enough.”

Hands flying to your hips as you spun on your heel, you narrowed your eyes at Matt. “You KNEW?”

Shrugging noncommitally, Matt pinched one of the abandoned forks between his fingers, tugging the bowl of noodles closer to him and stabbing the utensil into it. “I had a feeling.”

Scoffing incredulously, you shook your head as he popped a forkful of tepid pasta into his mouth. “How can you look like you're enjoying yourself right now?”

Matt smirked at you. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had the luxury of bearing witness to dinner and a show.” Attacking his dinner ravenously, Matt didn't explain himself further.

Sighing loudly in response to Matt's unprecedented ambivalence, you jogged to the door--opening it to reveal your VERY pissed off cousin. He must've been camped out somewhere for a while, given the rivulets of water dripping off of his face and clothes. The droplets trailed over his scowl, getting tangled in his beard on the way to the ground.

”Hi Frank.“ You greeted politely, arm shooting out to grasp the door frame as he took a deliberate step past you, eyes locked onto Matt's frame in the middle of your apartment. You might've been smaller than both of them, but you weren't feeble. Your well-placed grip held strong against the burly ex-marine, his glare pivoting to bore into you as you stopped him from storming into the apartment.

”Move aside,“ Frank ground out your name, eyes dark with rage.

”And let you bludgeon someone to death in my apartment? I'll pass.“ You snarked, your own anger over Frank's absence and the overwhelming stench of testosterone now shrouding your space coating your words.

Matt scoffed from behind you, making a sound of protest but you held up a single finger on your free hand. ”Don't you dare.“

Matt closed his mouth, turning his attention back to his dinner with a pout.

Nostrils flaring, Frank's chest was still poking into your forearm as he shook his head. ”I can't believe this. Him? C'mon kid, you're smarter than that. You can't shack up with this asshole.“

”I can do whatever I damn well please, Castle. In case you've forgotten over your period of absence, I am an adult who is capable of making her own decisions.“

A muscle in Frank's cheek twitched but he said nothing. Jabbing a finger into his shoulder, you pulled a stern look straight from your bag of teacher tricks, staring him down. ”I will let you through this door to talk but if either of you start brawling in my home, you're out on the street, got it?“

Confidence wavering, Frank's posture relaxed ever so slightly, looking like an attack dog who had been given a hold command--frustrated and miffed, but no longer snarling. He nodded once, stepping back to allow you to retract your arm.

”Matthew?“ You asked over your shoulder, still blocking the doorway as you waited for both parties to agree.

“I'm sorry, sweetheart. What was the question?“ You didn't need to crane your neck to see Matt's proud expression, feigning innocence as he silently challenged Frank from afar.

You and Frank both snorted in disbelief. Frank's lips opened but you beat him to the punch. ”Try again, Murdock.“

With a displeased grumble, Matt muttered his assent. ”Fine.”

Ha. Teacher voice: 1, unruly vigilantes: 0.

Nodding in approval, you finally released your rigid stance, standing on your tiptoes to peck Frank on his damp cheek. “C'mon in. I'll grab you a towel.”

Taglist: @marytheweefrenchie @cheshirecat484 @siampie @gracethyomen @xxdrixx

[capybaracorn]

Land Day: What happened in Palestine in 1976?

Every year on March 30, Palestinians hold protests and vigils and plant olive trees to reaffirm their connection to the land.

(30th of March 2024)

Hundreds of Palestinians in Gaza joined the Land Day protests near the eastern Gaza borders, March 30, 2022 [Abdelhakim Abu Riash/Al Jazeera]

Every year on March 30, Palestinians observe Land Day, or Yom al-Ard, recalling the events of March 30, 1976, when six unarmed Palestinians were killed and more than 100 injured by Israeli forces during protests against Israel’s confiscation of Palestinian land.

How much land did Israel confiscate?

Israel ordered the confiscation of 2,000 hectares (4,942 acres) of land belonging to Palestinian citizens of Israel in the Galilee. These plans were part of Israeli state policy to Judaise Galilee following the creation of the state of Israel.

The confiscated land is roughly the size of 3,000 football pitches or the area from the tip of Manhattan to Central Park in New York, US.

What do Palestinians do on Land Day?

Palestinians, both inside Israel and across the occupied territory, mark this day by holding protests and vigils and planting olive trees to reaffirm their connection to the land. The protests are often met with brutal use of force by Israel.

Um Ahmad al-Banna was wounded in the protests of March of Return and joined Land Day commemorations in Gaza in 2022 [Abdelhakim Abu Riash/Al Jazeera]

Is Israel still seizing land?

Yes, Israel has continued to seize large swaths of Palestinian land, designating them as military zones, state land and other labels.

Most recently, on March 22, 2024, Israel’s Finance Minister Bezalel Smotrich declared Israel was seizing 800 hectares (1,977 acres) in the occupied West Bank, in a move that would facilitate building more illegal settlements.

“While there are those in Israel and in the world who seek to undermine our right to Judea and Samaria and the country in general, we promote settlement through hard work and in a strategic manner all over the country,” Smotrich said, using Biblical names for the area that are commonly heard in Israel.

Settlements – illegal under international law – are Jewish-only communities built on Palestinian land in the occupied West Bank and East Jerusalem.

On March 6, Israel’s settlement-planning authority announced it had approved the construction of some 3,500 new housing units in Maale Adumim, Kedar and Efrat within the occupied West Bank.

From November 1, 2022 to October 31, 2023, Israel has approved at least 24,000 illegal housing units to be built on Palestinian land.

Earlier this month, the United Nations’ High Commissioner for Human Rights Volker Turk said settlements had expanded by a record amount and risked eliminating any possibility of a Palestinian state.

[maevesheart]

stranger danger

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ she-devil (05)

PETER PARKER X FEM!READER

note: shorter one :( im sorry... the next chapter is a long one though ;)

summary: harry's party leaves you crying in the arms of spiderman on the cold streets of manhattan.

WC: 2.2k

TW: cussing, i think thats all...

you were humiliated honestly. to think that you let peter parker do that to you.

make out with you and then leave as if you’re nothing. and to make it even better, he threw in a half-assed apology as if that was better than no apology at all.

you were sad, drunk, and tired, so obviously, you decided you were going to head home.

your head hanging low, you exited the guest bedroom and walked down the hallway, hoping to make a hasty exit, only to be abruptly stopped by georgie.

“y/n/n? you alright,” he asks, and you sway. “whoa…” he light-heartedly laughs, placing both his hands on your shoulders to steady you.

“i wanna go home, geo,” you whine, trying to get out of his grasp.

“okay, um, lemme grab my coat,” he reluctantly lets go of you, and you start towards the front door, yanking it open and letting it slam behind you.

you don’t even think about georgie as you get into the evelator, hot stinging tears beginning to brew in your eyes, and a lump forming itself deep in your throat.

you swallow the embarrassment, just wanting to get home and crawl into bed. you want to cry the weekend away and then never think of peter again.

the elevator dings, and you walk out of the lobby into the cold late-winter air of new york city.

the chilly wind nips at your exposed legs and feet, and seeps through the thin sheer material of your dress, goosebumps dotting your skin.

you hurry down the road, the streets the dark and dreary. you never realized how scary it really was at night.

the fact that you left georgie now dawns on you, and you suddenly feel very sober. you spin around, hoping to be met with georgie’s e/c eyes, but when you are met with darkness, internal panic sets in.

you realize that you have no idea where you are. and the sound of footsteps down the alleyway to your left suddenly sound a lot louder.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

20 MINUTES EARLIER

peter ran out of harry’s penthouse, and exited out the nearest window once he was in the hallway.

his mind was at war deciding if this bank robbery was worth leaving you all alone in an empty bedroom, where you clearly wanted more of him.

he groaned, and landed in an empty alleyway, clicking his watch that suddenly engulfed his entire body in his nanotech spidey-suit.

his head tingles, sensing the crime near him. he sighs and jumps off to go find the criminals.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

the whole time he fights, he thinks of you. how much he regrets leaving you.

he knows you’ll be upset, angry even. this could ruin all the progress you two were making.

mr. stark will be so mad at him.

finishing up the mission, he hands the two druggies who decided to rob a bank over to the cops, and heads back to harry’s building, hoping you’re still at the party….. maybe even waiting for him.

a part of him, deep deep down in his heart, knows you left. he knows that he’s disappointed you, and upset you, and that you are not the forgiving type.

as he lightly jogs down the street, getting closer and closer to NW Street, he sees a small, shivering figure walking away from the building he’s headed towards.

he figures it’s just some person leaving the party, but then his super senses kick in and he…. he smells… he smells you.

he panics, not knowing what to do.

does he go up to you and potentially expose his identity? or does he let you walk home alone in the dark and dangerous streets of new york city?

he goes with the latter, figuring your safety is more important than his identity. he has cared for you far too long to worry about silly things like that now.

he can sense the dread in your body as you freeze watching him head towards you.

no, no, no, this was not supposed to go this way.

your eyes go wide, and a screech prepares itself to rip from your throat as the shadow comes to light, revealing itself to be… to be spiderman?

your breath hitches, and you take a step backwards.

if spiderman is supposed to make you feel safe, why are you so fucking scared?

because why would spiderman present himself unless there’s a problem. why would he approach you?

peter takes a few steps forwards, and you take one back, shaking your head.

“what do you want?” you whisper through gritted teeth.

you slip your left hand into your dress, reaching for your phone that’s tucked away somewhere, only to be met with cold everywhere.

of course. you left your phone sitting on harry’s kitchen counter.

dread settles itself in, and you accept your fate.

spiderman is horny or something, and despite him supposedly being good, and friendly, he is going to use you and leave you in a ditch.

the golden girl. billionaire ken griswold’s daughter. it couldn’t get better. the news would go crazy, your father would rage war, and spiderman would go on living his life, no one ever expecting the villain in this story to be him.

you swallow, not wanting to accept the impending doom that swirls in your mind.

you shake your head, mustering up all the courage and strength you have in your extremely drunken state.

peter’s heart drops as you step away from him, clearly terrified of spiderman.

he puts his hands up in surrender and slowly takes a few more steps to you.

you go to move backwards, but your heel gets stuck in a crack in the pavement, and you go barreling backwards.

just as your head is about to make contact with the hard and cold ground, peter in under you, cushioning your fall.

you’re splayed in his lap, his arms tight around your waist, and one of your arms draped around his shoulders.

your lips part, and you stare into his mask, trying to figure out who is under there.

“i won’t hurt you,” peter whispers, you still snug in his lap.

you shake your head, tears pooling in your eyes, your lip trembling, threatening to give you away.

“what’s wrong,” he whispers, brushing a piece of hair out of your eyes, just like he did inside.

that reminds you too much off peter, and you push off spider-man’s lap, to stand up on your own.

you untie one of your heels as spider-man springs up, and hold it in your hand, as a weapon.

like a dainty heel with defeat mighty strong spiderman. it’s worth a try, though.

peter puts his hands up in surrender, showing you that he had no intent of hurting you.

all he wants to do is take you in his arms again and wipe your tears. the tears that are most likely there because of him and his stupid decisions.

“what do you want!” you seethe, waving the magenta heel at his face.

“i’m not going to hurt you, i promise,” he quietly says, watching your arm involuntarily lower the heel.

“i just want to know what’s making you so upset,” he chokes out. it’s eating him inside to think that he’s upset you in any way.

you’re so drunk that you don’t think twice, your arm falling to your side and the tears spilling out, sobs ripping from your chest.

peter’s rushes to you, the suit still on. he’s reluctant to take it off, scared you will be more upset.

his steel covered arms wrap around your small frame, and your hands cover your face, muffling the sound of your heart-wrenching sobs.

peter’s super hearing continues to make the sobs incredibly loud, and he can feel the tears springing at the corner of his eyes.

he’s so angry at himself. he knows he caused this.

“please tell me what’s wrong,” he coos, one hand stroking the back of your head, smoothing down the stray hairs.

“i-i,” you start, struggling to catch your breath.

“he left me.” you cry, voice breaking as you speak. peter pulls you in tighter, feeling the most guilty he’s ever felt.

“i shouldn’t like him as much as i do, but i can’t help it. but he fucking left me!”

you’re drunk, and don’t realize what you’re saying.

the alcohol didn’t affect peter per his enhanced abilities, so he’s sober as ever listening to how he hurt you.

he nods, and you continue, his arms still secure around you.

“i’ve never been so stupid in my life,”

“you’re not stupid,”

“i feel like an idiot.”

“i promise you’re not. and i promise that he is good, and wasn’t trying to hurt you, and that he wanted to stay at harry’s with you” peter realizes too late that this was the wrong thing to say.

you try to pull yourself out of his arms, tired eyes peering into the mask, trying to figure out who’s hiding in there.

“how did you know it was at harry’s?”

“i, uh, well,” peter stammers over his words, internally screaming at himself for giving so much away.

“i swung past earlier, and saw you, uh, through a window,” he makes it up as he goes along. which would’ve been obvious to someone who hadn’t drank as much as you did.

“oh.”

peter swallows, and reluctantly opens his arms. you sigh as you pull yourself away from him, side-eyeing as you slowly back away.

“uh, thanks spiderman, um, i’m going home now…” you start slowly walking, and then break out into a sprint to get home.

peter shakes his head as he watches you run, wishing he wouldn’t have left.

seconds later, he hears a scragged “y/n!” from behind him, turning to met with georgie.

this is really the first time peter has ever seen georgie so close up. he immediately recognizes the similarities between you two.

the deep, soulful y/e/c eyes, the bouncy, shimmering y/h/c hair, and freckles that dot over georgie’s nose and cheeks that are mimicked on your face.

georgie is tall, standing at least at 6’3, towering over peter. peter watches with wide eyes as georgie jogs up to him, wonder twinkling in his eyes.

“yo! spiderman! have you seen my sister, looks just like me, about this tall,” georgie holds his hand up to his shoulder, showing where your head would reach if you were standing next to him.

“yes, she just headed that way,” peter points ahead, georgie giving him a grateful nod before running after you.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

you hugged your arms around your shivering body on the elevator ride up to your penthouse.

you heard georgie run into the lobby just as the elevator doors closed, knowing he was probably right behind you.

the last thing you wanted was georgie’s pestering questions, he would poke and prod you until you gave in, and you really didn’t wanna deal with that while in an emotional state.

the doors chimed, and you sprinted out, kicking your now untied heels off in the wide lobby, bare feet padding against the cold, marble floors.

hayes, the butler, called your name as you ran past him, huffing when you wouldn’t turn around.

your footsteps were light against the grand marble staircase as you sprinted upstairs, and down the left wing to your bedroom.

you slammed the door behind you, locking it, and then letting your back rest against the cold wood.

you slowly slid downwards, letting the hard floor catch your weak body.

you were so tired. emotionally, you wanted to crawl in a hole and never return again, and physically, the alcohol made you feel weak and sick and you hated peter for what he did to you.

you were tiered, and just wanted to sleep.

pushing off the floor, you slowly dragged yourself into your closet, stripped off your clothes, and put on an oversized t shirt that engulfed your whole body.

next was the bathroom, you washed off your smudged makeup and brushed your teeth, trying to get the smell of vodka out of your mouth.

your bed was warm and inviting as you slid into it, the crisp sheets warm against your shivering body.

a small sob escaped your lips and you let yourself quietly cry to sleep. there was nothing wrong with crying at the end of a long day, you know this.

but, of course, peter felt his breaking heart crack into two as he sat outside your window and heard the quiet sobs that you tried to hide.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

[paolo-streito-1264]

Over 3,000 workers who build the Chase Manhattan Bank in New York City pose for a photo. August, 1964.

[rabbitcruiser]

Millionaire Harry Thaw shot and killed prominent architect Stanford White in New York City on June 25, 1906.