#beep beep has mutuals
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beepbeepdespair · 1 year ago
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TRICK OR TREAT!!!
OMG HI SORRY IM LATE ok this is the only cool picture i have but TREAT here is a picture of my friend's dog his name is harold :)
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thewrldlooksred · 28 days ago
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HEYYYYY DOES ANYONE HAVE GOOD BOOK RECCOMMENDATIONS.....
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ive been wanting desperately to find some good ones Especially psychological horror if possible :3 not limited to horror though!!
i dont have many Read examples cause ive been too busy to dig into them till now :( but umm!!! house of leaves has already been grabbed + will be read soon, same with some junji ito collections, and a few other ones i grabbed because the summary was interesting (echo by thomas olde heuvelt, the horror was good but it had some iffy bits + from below by darcy coates, which i havent read yet!)
again if its not horror and its just a book u enjoy ill still look into it :3 just looking for starting points ehehe!!!!
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beepathan · 2 years ago
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everyone should listen to hell lazy psychology. dont look at the source material just listen to the song and watch the mv when it comes out
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pucksandpower · 5 months ago
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Black Widow
Toto Wolff x black widow!Reader
Summary: Lewis Hamilton and George Russell are convinced you’re trying to kill their team principal, and, to be fair, you do have a trail of seven dead extremely wealthy husbands behind you … but it’s not what they think, you promise
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The soft beep of medical equipment provides a rhythmic backdrop as you sit beside the ornate mahogany bed, your manicured fingers intertwined with those of your latest husband, Reginald Worthington III.
At 89 years old, Reggie, as you affectionately call him, is by far your oldest conquest yet. His wrinkled face, now gaunt from months of illness, still manages a weak smile as he gazes at you.
“My darling,” Reggie wheezes, his voice barely above a whisper, “I hope you know how much joy you’ve brought to these final months of mine.”
You lean in, your silky hair cascading over your shoulder as you press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Oh, Reggie. The pleasure has been all mine.”
It’s not entirely a lie. While you don’t love Reggie — or any of your previous husbands, for that matter — you’ve grown fond of the old codger. He’s certainly been the most amusing of your elderly spouses.
Reggie’s eyes twinkle with mischief, a ghost of the rakish playboy he must have been in his youth. “Now, now, my dear. We both know this has been a mutually beneficial arrangement. But I do hope I’ve provided some entertainment along the way.”
You can’t help but chuckle. “You’ve been a delight, darling. Truly.”
As if on cue, Reggie is seized by a coughing fit. You quickly grab a glass of water from the bedside table, helping him take small sips until the spasms subside. When he catches his breath, he fixes you with a serious look.
“Y/N, there’s something I need to tell you. About the will.”
Your heart skips a beat, but you keep your face carefully neutral. “Reggie, please. We don’t need to discuss such morbid topics.”
He waves a dismissive hand. “Nonsense. We both know why you’re here, and it’s not to admire the wallpaper. Now listen, because this is important.”
You lean in closer, curiosity piqued despite yourself.
Reggie’s voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. “In addition to the usual — the houses, the cars, the offshore accounts — I’m leaving you my stake in the Mercedes Formula 1 team.”
Your eyes widen in genuine surprise. “The racing team? Reggie, I had no idea you were involved with-”
He cuts you off with a wheezy laugh. “Oh, my dear. There’s so much you don’t know about me. Did you think I made my fortune selling denture cream?”
You can’t help but smile. “Well, I did wonder about all those trophies in your study.”
“Remnants of a misspent youth,” Reggie says with a wistful sigh. “But this, this is my crowning achievement. A 33% stake in one of the most successful F1 teams in history.”
Your mind reels at the implications. This is far beyond anything you’d anticipated when you’d set your sights on Reginald Worthington III.
“Reggie, I ... I don’t know what to say.”
He pats your hand affectionately. “You don’t have to say anything, my dear. Just promise me you’ll make the most of it. I’ve always admired your ambition. It reminds me of myself at your age.”
You lean back in your chair, studying the old man before you. In that moment, you feel a surge of genuine affection for him.
“I promise, Reggie. I’ll make you proud.”
He nods, satisfied. “Good. Now, tell me about the others. I want to know how I measure up to my predecessors.”
You laugh, shaking your head in amazement. “Are you sure? It’s quite a list.”
Reggie’s eyes sparkle with interest. “My dear, I’m on my deathbed. Regale me with tales of your conquests.”
With a theatrical sigh, you begin. “Well, if you insist. Let’s see ... first, there was Harold.”
“Ah, the virgin husband,” Reggie interrupts with a knowing nod.
You raise an eyebrow. “And how did you know that?”
He winks. “I have my sources. Go on.”
“Right. Well, Harold was a sweet man. A bit naive, perhaps, but genuinely kind. He left me his tech startup. It wasn’t worth much at the time, but I sold it for a tidy sum a year later.”
Reggie nods approvingly. “Smart move. Who was next?”
“After Harold came George. He was ... intense. A retired army general with a penchant for war stories and expensive scotch. Left me his collection of rare military memorabilia.”
“Fascinating,” Reggie murmurs. “And the others?”
You tick them off on your fingers. “Let’s see ... there was Joaquin, the passionate Spanish chef. He left me his Michelin-starred restaurants. Then came Dmitri, the Russian oligarch. That was ... an experience.”
Reggie chuckles. “I bet it was. What did he leave you?”
“A series of shell companies and a rather gaudy yacht. I sold the yacht, kept the companies.” You pause, lost in thought for a moment. “After Dmitri was William, the British lord. Lovely man, terrible teeth. Left me his crumbling estate and title.”
“So you’re technically a lady now?” Reggie asks, amused.
You nod. “Lady Y/N, at your service. Though I don’t use the title much. It tends to raise questions.”
“Understandable. And the last one before me?”
Your expression softens slightly. “Ah, that was Hiroshi. Japanese tech mogul. Brilliant mind, but so lonely. I think I was the first real companionship he’d had in years.”
Reggie studies you carefully. “You were fond of him.”
You nod, a bit surprised by the lump in your throat. “I was. He ... he understood me, I think. More than the others.”
There’s a moment of silence as Reggie processes this information. Finally, he speaks. “And what did Hiroshi leave you?”
You smile wryly. “His AI research company. It’s been ... interesting, to say the least.”
Reggie nods slowly. “Quite a collection you’ve amassed, my dear. But tell me, what drives you? Surely it’s not just the money.”
You’re taken aback by the question. No one has ever asked you that before. You take a moment to gather your thoughts.
“I suppose ... it’s the challenge of it all. The thrill of reinventing myself with each new husband, of navigating these complex worlds they inhabit. And yes, the wealth is nice, but it’s more about what I can do with it.”
Reggie leans forward, intrigued. “And what is it you want to do?”
You pause, realizing you’ve never really articulated this to anyone before. “I want to make a difference. Real, lasting change. These men, they’ve all built empires in their own ways, but they’ve been limited by their own mortality. I don’t have those limitations yet. I can take what they’ve given me and create something ... more.”
Reggie’s eyes light up with understanding. “Ah, now I see why I was drawn to you. You’re not just a pretty face or a clever mind. You’re a visionary.”
You feel a flush of pride at his words. “I try to be. Each husband has taught me something new, given me tools I never had before. Harold showed me the potential of technology. George taught me strategy. Joaquin, the importance of passion in one’s work. Dmitri, how to navigate the murky waters of international business. William gave me a glimpse into old-world power structures. And Hiroshi ... well, he opened my eyes to the future.”
Reggie nods slowly. “And what have I taught you, I wonder?”
You smile softly. “Patience, Reggie. The long game. And the value of a good sense of humor in the face of adversity.”
He chuckles weakly. “Well, I’m glad I could contribute something to your education. Now, about this F1 team ...”
You lean in, eager to hear more. “Yes?”
“It’s more than just a racing team, you know. It’s a pinnacle of engineering, a testament to human ingenuity and the constant push for improvement. I think you’ll find it fits quite well with your ambitions.”
You nod slowly, mind already racing with possibilities. “I can see that. The technology, the global platform, the prestige ...”
Reggie grins. “Exactly. And who knows? Maybe you’ll find husband number eight in the paddock.”
You laugh, shaking your head. “Oh, Reggie. Always thinking ahead, aren’t you?”
He winks. “Someone has to. Now, promise me one thing.”
“Anything,” you say, and you’re surprised to find you mean it.
“When you’re accepting that championship trophy — because I know you will — wear something fabulous. Give those stuffy old men in the paddock something to talk about.”
You can’t help but grin. “Oh, don’t worry. I intend to shake things up a bit.”
Reggie nods approvingly. “That’s my girl. Now, I think I need to rest for a bit. But don’t go far. I want to hear all about your plans for world domination when I wake up.”
As you watch Reggie drift off to sleep, you can’t help but feel a mix of emotions. Sadness at the impending loss of this charming old rogue, excitement at the unexpected opportunity he’s given you, and a renewed sense of purpose.
You glance at your reflection in the ornate mirror across the room. Lady Y/N Y/L/N, soon-to-be racing magnate. It has a nice ring to it.
As you settle back into your chair, you begin to plan your next moves. The motorsport world won’t know what hit it.
***
The sleek boardroom of the Mercedes-AMG Petronas F1 Team headquarters buzzes with hushed conversation. Around the polished mahogany table, team executives and board members huddle in small groups, their voices low and urgent.
Toto catches snippets of conversation as he reviews his notes for the meeting.
“Did you hear? She’s actually coming today,” whispers Bradley, the team’s financial officer.
Sarah, head of marketing, leans in. “I can’t believe Reginald left her his stake. What was he thinking?”
“Probably wasn’t thinking with his head, if you know what I mean,” chuckles Thomas, the technical director.
Toto clears his throat, silencing the gossip. “Let’s keep things professional, shall we? We have important matters to discuss today.”
As if on cue, the boardroom door swings open. The room falls into an immediate, almost eerie silence as you stride in, turning heads with every click of your Manolo Blahnik heels against the polished floor.
Toto finds himself holding his breath, caught off guard by your presence. He’s seen photos, of course, but they didn’t do you justice. Your tailored Armani suit exudes power and confidence, while your eyes scan the room with a shrewd intelligence that sends a shiver down his spine.
You take your seat at the far end of the table, directly opposite Toto. “Good morning, everyone. I hope I’m not late.”
Your voice, smooth as silk with a hint of amusement, breaks the spell. The room erupts into a flurry of awkward greetings and nervous coughs.
Toto clears his throat again, trying to regain control of the situation. “Not at all. We were just about to begin. Welcome, Lady Worthington. We’re honored to have you join us today.”
You smile, a dazzling display that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Please, call me Y/N. We’re all colleagues here, after all.”
Toto nods, fighting to keep his composure. “Of course, Y/N. Shall we begin with the agenda?”
As the meeting progresses, Toto finds himself increasingly distracted. He’s used to being the most commanding presence in any room, but your arrival has shifted the dynamic entirely. Every time you speak, offering insights or asking pointed questions, the rest of the board seems to hold its breath.
“I’ve been reviewing our sustainability initiatives,” you say during a lull in the conversation. “While I applaud our efforts so far, I believe we could be doing more. Formula 1 has an unique platform to drive innovation in green technologies. We should be leading the charge, not just following along.”
Bradley shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “With all due respect, Lady- I mean, Y/N, implementing new sustainability measures could be quite costly. We need to consider the bottom line.”
You lean forward, fixing Bradley with an intense gaze. “And what about the cost of falling behind? Of being seen as out of touch with the concerns of younger fans? Sometimes, you have to spend money to make money.”
Toto finds himself nodding in agreement before he even realizes it. “Y/N raises an excellent point. Perhaps we should form a task force to explore more aggressive sustainability options.”
You flash him a grateful smile, and Toto feels his heart skip a beat. He quickly looks down at his notes, trying to regain his composure.
As the meeting continues, you consistently challenge the status quo, pushing for bolder strategies and innovative approaches. Toto watches in fascination as you deftly navigate the complex dynamics of the board, alternating between charm and steel as the situation demands.
During a discussion about driver development, you interject again. “I’ve been looking into our junior driver program, and I think we’re missing opportunities. We’re too focused on traditional racing backgrounds. What about sim racers? Or scouting karters from developing countries? We could be tapping into a whole new pool of talent.”
Sarah, the marketing head, perks up at this. “That’s ... actually a brilliant idea. It could really broaden our appeal, especially in emerging markets.”
You nod appreciatively. “Exactly. And imagine the stories we could tell. The sim racer who became an F1 champion or the kid from a small village who rose to the top of motorsport. That’s the kind of narrative that builds brand loyalty and inspires the next generation of fans.”
Toto finds himself leaning forward, completely engrossed. “I love this direction. Y/N, would you be willing to work with Sarah to develop a proposal for expanding our driver search?”
“Of course,” you reply with a smile that makes Toto’s pulse quicken. “I’d be delighted.”
As the meeting winds down, Toto realizes that the entire dynamic of the board has shifted. The initial wariness towards you has given way to a mixture of respect and curiosity. Even those who seemed most skeptical at the start are now hanging on your every word.
“Well,” Toto says, glancing at his watch, “I think that concludes our agenda for today. Unless anyone has any other matters to discuss?”
The room is silent for a moment before you speak up. “Actually, if I may, I’d like to address the elephant in the room.”
A tense hush falls over the gathering. Toto holds his breath, unsure of what’s coming next.
You stand, your posture relaxed but commanding. “I’m aware of the rumors and speculation surrounding my ... personal life. I want to assure all of you that my presence here is purely professional. I’m not here to cause drama or upheaval. I’m here because I believe in the potential of this team and this sport. I hope that over time, you’ll come to judge me based on my contributions, not on gossip or hearsay.”
The sincerity in your voice is palpable, and Toto can see the effect it has on the room. Shoulders relax, expressions soften. There’s a collective exhale, as if a weight has been lifted.
“Thank you for your honesty,” Toto says, standing as well. “I think I speak for everyone when I say we look forward to working with you and seeing what fresh perspectives you can bring to the team.”
There’s a murmur of agreement around the table. As the meeting officially adjourns, people begin to gather their things and file out of the room. Toto notices that several board members linger, clearly hoping to have a word with you. He feels an unexpected twinge of jealousy.
Before he can second-guess himself, Toto makes his way around the table to where you’re chatting with Sarah about the junior driver program idea.
“Excuse me,” he says, feeling uncharacteristically nervous. “Y/N, I was wondering if I could have a word?”
You turn to him with a smile that makes his heart race. “Of course. What can I do for you?”
He takes a deep breath, acutely aware of the curious glances from the remaining board members. “I was impressed by your insights today. I think there’s a lot we could discuss further about the future direction of the team. Would you perhaps be interested in continuing this conversation over dinner?”
A hush falls over the remaining occupants of the room. Toto can practically feel the weight of their stares, but he keeps his eyes fixed on you.
You raise an eyebrow, a mix of surprise and amusement playing across your features. “Dinner? My, my, Toto. Aren’t you afraid of me? I do have quite the reputation, you know.”
There’s a challenge in your voice, but also a hint of vulnerability that catches Toto off guard. He realizes that beneath your confident exterior, you’re testing him, gauging his true intentions.
Toto meets your gaze steadily, his voice low but firm. “I don’t put much stock in rumors. I prefer to form my own opinions based on what I see and experience. And what I’ve seen today is a brilliant, passionate individual who could be a tremendous asset to this team. That’s the person I’m interested in getting to know better.”
The room seems to hold its breath, waiting for your response. You study Toto for a long moment, your expression unreadable. Then, slowly, a genuine smile spreads across your face.
“Well, in that case, I’d be delighted to have dinner with you. Shall we say eight o’clock?”
Toto feels a rush of relief and excitement. “Eight o’clock sounds perfect. I know just the place.”
As you gather your things and prepare to leave, Toto can’t help but feel like he’s standing on the precipice of something monumental. He’s built his career on calculated risks, on seeing potential where others see danger. Looking at you, he knows that this might be the biggest gamble of his life.
But as you turn to give him one last smile before exiting the boardroom, Toto is certain of one thing: it’s a risk he’s more than willing to take.
***
The Monaco Grand Prix paddock buzzes with excitement, a hive of activity as teams prepare for the most glamorous race on the Formula 1 calendar. Lewis Hamilton and George Russell huddle in a quiet corner of the Mercedes garage, their voices low and urgent.
“I’m telling you, mate, something’s not right,” George insists, his eyes darting around to ensure they’re not overheard. “Have you seen the way Toto’s been acting lately? It’s like he’s under some kind of spell.”
Lewis nods grimly, his usual pre-race focus replaced by concern. “I know what you mean. Ever since she came into the picture, it’s like he’s a different person. Always distracted, making decisions that don’t quite add up.”
“Exactly!” George exclaims, then quickly lowers his voice again. “And have you noticed how she’s always around now? At every meeting, every strategy session. It’s like she’s trying to learn all our secrets.”
Lewis furrows his brow, deep in thought. “You don’t think ... I mean, surely she wouldn’t actually try to ...”
“Kill him?” George finishes, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know, mate. But look at her track record. Seven husbands, all dead within months of marrying her. And now she’s got her claws into Toto.”
As if summoned by their conversation, you appear at the entrance of the garage, Toto at your side. The team principal’s hand rests comfortably on the small of your back as he leads you through the bustling workspace.
Lewis and George fall silent, watching intently as you make your way towards them. Your designer sundress and oversized sunglasses scream understated elegance, but to the two drivers, you might as well be wearing a black widow’s web.
“Good morning,” Toto calls out cheerfully. “Ready for qualifying?”
Lewis forces a smile, his eyes never leaving you. “Morning, Toto. Yeah, we were just discussing strategy.”
You step forward, flashing a dazzling smile. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything important. I’m still learning all the intricacies of race weekends.”
George clears his throat, trying to keep his voice steady. “Not at all. We were just finishing up.”
Toto beams, looking from you to his drivers with pride. “Isn’t it wonderful having Y/N here? She’s already brought so many fresh ideas to the team. I don’t know how we managed without her.”
You laugh, a sound that sends chills down Lewis and George’s spines. “Oh, darling, you’re exaggerating. I’m sure these boys were doing just fine before I came along.”
As you speak, your hand reaches up to smooth Toto’s collar, a gesture that seems innocent enough but makes both drivers tense.
Lewis clears his throat. “Actually, Toto, could we have a quick word? About the, uh, tire strategy?”
Toto looks surprised but nods. “Of course. Y/N, would you mind giving us a moment?”
“Not at all,” you reply smoothly. “I’ll just go chat with the mechanics. I’m fascinated by all this technology.”
As you saunter away, Lewis and George exchange a meaningful glance. This is their chance.
“Toto,” Lewis begins, choosing his words carefully. “We’re a bit concerned. About you, actually.”
Toto’s brow furrows in confusion. “Concerned? What do you mean?”
George jumps in, his words tumbling out in a rush. “It’s just that ... well, things have been different since you started seeing her. And given her history ...”
“Her history?” Toto repeats, his voice taking on an edge. “What exactly are you implying?”
Lewis takes a deep breath. “Toto, we care about you. And we can’t help but notice that Y/N’s previous partners have all met with ... unfortunate ends.”
For a moment, Toto just stares at them, his expression unreadable. Then, to their surprise, he bursts out laughing.
“Oh, boys,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “I appreciate your concern, truly. But I assure you, it’s misplaced. Y/N has been nothing but a positive influence on both me and the team.”
George persists, his voice urgent. “But Toto, you have to admit, the pattern is alarming. Seven husbands, all dead within months of marriage. And now she’s here, learning all about our team, our strategies ...”
Toto’s amusement fades, replaced by a stern look. “That’s enough. I understand you’re worried, but I won’t have you spreading baseless rumors. Y/N is here because she’s a part-owner of this team and because I invited her. End of discussion.”
As Toto walks away, Lewis and George share a look of dismay.
“He’s in too deep,” Lewis mutters. “We need to do something.”
George nods grimly. “We can’t let her hurt him. Or the team. We need a plan.”
Throughout the day, as qualifying unfolds, Lewis and George find themselves constantly distracted. Every time they catch a glimpse of you in the garage or on the pit wall, their imaginations run wild.
During a brief break between sessions, they overhear a snippet of conversation between you and one of the engineers.
“So, if something were to go wrong with the car during the race,” you’re saying, “what would be the most catastrophic point of failure?”
The engineer launches into a detailed explanation of various mechanical vulnerabilities, unaware of the horrified looks on the drivers’ faces.
“She’s gathering intel,” George whispers to Lewis. “Probably planning some sort of accident for Toto.”
Lewis nods, his jaw set with determination. “We need to warn him again. Make him see reason.”
But their attempts to get Toto alone prove futile. You seem to be constantly by his side, your hand on his arm, whispering in his ear. To an outsider, it might look like the actions of a loving girlfriend, but to Lewis and George, every gesture seems calculated and sinister.
As the day wears on, their paranoia grows. They start seeing threats everywhere. When you hand Toto a bottle of water, they’re convinced it’s poisoned. When you suggest he take a look at something in the back of the garage, they’re sure you’re luring him away to do him harm.
Finally, as the sun begins to set over the Monaco harbor, they decide they can’t wait any longer. They need to confront you directly.
They find you alone in the hospitality area, reviewing some papers. As they approach, you look up with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.
“Lewis, George,” you greet them warmly. “Excellent qualifying today. You must be pleased.”
Lewis takes a deep breath, steeling himself. “Cut the act. We know what you’re up to.”
Your expression doesn’t change, but something flickers in your eyes. “I’m not sure I understand. What exactly am I up to?”
George steps forward, his voice low and intense. “We know about your husbands. All seven of them. And we’re not going to let you add Toto to that list.”
For a moment, you just stare at them, your face unreadable. Then, to their surprise, you burst out laughing.
“Oh,” you chuckle, shaking your head. “Is that what this is all about? You think I’m here to kill Toto?”
Lewis and George exchange confused glances, thrown off by your reaction.
You lean in, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Let me tell you a little secret. Those men? They were all terminally ill when I married them. It was a business arrangement, pure and simple. They got to spend their last months with a young, beautiful wife, and I got their fortunes. No foul play involved.”
The drivers stare at you, speechless. You continue, your tone becoming more serious.
“As for Toto, well, that’s different. For the first time in my life, I’ve found someone I genuinely care for. Someone who sees me for who I am, not just what I can offer. I’m not here to hurt him or the team. I’m here because I want to be part of something meaningful.”
Lewis and George exchange uncertain glances, their convictions shaken.
“But ... all the questions about the car, the team strategies ...” George begins.
You roll your eyes, a hint of amusement in your voice. “I’m a part-owner of this team now, remember? Of course I’m trying to learn everything I can. How else can I contribute?”
As the truth of your words sinks in, Lewis and George begin to feel a creeping sense of embarrassment. They’ve let their imaginations and preconceptions run wild, seeing threats where there were none.
“I ... we ...” Lewis stammers, struggling to find the right words.
You hold up a hand, stopping him. “It’s alright. I understand. My reputation precedes me, and you were just looking out for Toto. I can respect that.”
George rubs the back of his neck, sheepish. “We may have gotten a bit carried away. I’m sorry.”
You smile, and this time it reaches your eyes. “Apology accepted. Now, what do you say we put this behind us and focus on winning tomorrow’s race?”
As if on cue, Toto appears, looking between the three of you with curiosity. “Everything alright here?”
You stand, moving to his side and slipping your arm through his. “Everything’s perfect, darling. In fact, I think Lewis and George were just about to share some ideas they had for the race strategy. Weren’t you, boys?”
Lewis and George nod, grateful for the out you’ve given them. As they launch into a discussion about tire management and overtaking opportunities, they can’t help but marvel at how wrong they’ve been.
Watching you interact with Toto, they see not a black widow spinning her web, but a woman genuinely in love, bringing out the best in their team principal. They realize that sometimes, people can surprise you. And sometimes, the most unexpected additions to a team can be the most valuable.
***
The soft glow of chandeliers bathes the exclusive Monégasque restaurant in warm light, casting elegant shadows across the faces of Monaco’s elite. Grigori Volkov, a grizzled veteran of the Russian underworld, sips his vodka, his weathered face a mask of careful neutrality as he surveys the room.
His eyes narrow as they land on a familiar figure across the crowded dining area. It can’t be, he thinks, leaning forward for a better look. But there’s no mistaking that face, those eyes that have haunted his dreams and nightmares for years.
You.
Grigori watches as you laugh, your hand resting lightly on the arm of a tall, distinguished-looking man. He recognizes him vaguely. But what catches Grigori off guard is the easy intimacy between you, the matching wedding bands glinting in the low light.
For a moment, Grigori considers slipping out unnoticed. But curiosity gets the better of him. He signals the waiter, ordering another round of drinks to be sent to your table.
As the waiter approaches with the drinks, Grigori sees your posture stiffen slightly, your eyes scanning the room until they lock onto his. He raises his glass in a small salute, a wry smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
You lean in, whispering something to Toto. The man looks surprised but nods, and together you make your way towards Grigori’s table.
“Grigori,” you greet him, your voice a mix of warmth and wariness. “It’s been a long time.”
Grigori stands, bowing slightly. “Indeed it has, my dear. You’re looking well. And who might this be?”
Toto extends his hand, his grip firm. “Toto Wolff. And you are?”
“An old friend of your wife’s,” Grigori replies smoothly, noting the flicker of surprise in Toto’s eyes at the word ’wife’. “Grigori Volkov. I knew Y/N back in her Russian days.”
You gesture to the empty chairs. “May we join you?”
Grigori nods, waving expansively. “Please, be my guests.”
As you settle in, Grigori can’t help but study Toto more closely. He’s younger than expected, vital and alert. Not at all what he’d imagined for your latest conquest.
“So, Toto,” Grigori begins, his accent thick with amusement, “how long have you and our dear Y/N been married?”
Toto smiles, his hand finding yours on the table. “Just over two years now. Best decision I ever made.”
Grigori’s eyebrows shoot up. “Two years? My, my. That’s quite impressive.”
You shoot him a warning look, but Toto just looks confused. “I’m not sure I follow. Why is that impressive?”
Grigori chuckles, taking a long sip of his vodka. “Oh, forgive me. I just meant that Y/N here has always been something of a ... how do you say ... free spirit? Never one to be tied down for long.”
You interject quickly, “People change, Grigori. I’ve found what I was looking for.”
Grigori nods, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Indeed they do. And what of your ... other interests? The ones you inherited from dear Dmitri?”
Toto’s brow furrows. “Dmitri? I’m afraid I don’t know much about Y/N’s ex-husbands.”
“Ex-husbands?” Grigori repeats, feigning surprise. “Oh, but Dmitri was special, wasn’t he? After all, not every day one inherits a slice of the Bratva.”
The color drains from Toto’s face as he turns to you. “The Bratva? As in, the Russian mob?”
You sigh, shooting Grigori a glare that could freeze vodka. “It’s complicated, darling. And very much in the past.”
Grigori leans back, thoroughly enjoying the drama unfolding before him. “Oh, come now, Y/N. Surely your husband deserves to know the truth? About your colorful past, your string of deceased husbands, your unexpected rise to power in certain ... shall we say, unofficial circles?”
Toto looks between you and Grigori, his expression a mix of confusion and growing concern. “Y/N, what is he talking about?”
You take a deep breath, squeezing Toto’s hand. “Toto, there are parts of my past I haven’t told you about. Not because I wanted to keep secrets, but because I wanted to leave that life behind.”
Grigori interjects, his voice dripping with false sympathy. “Oh, but my dear, can one ever truly leave such a life behind? Especially when one has risen to such ... prominent positions?”
Toto’s eyes narrow as he looks at Grigori. “And what exactly is your role in all this?”
Grigori smiles, all teeth and no warmth. “Let’s just say I’m an old associate of Dmitri’s. And by extension, of Y/N’s. Though I must admit, I’m surprised to see you still among the living, Mr. Wolff. Our dear Y/N has quite a reputation, you know.”
You slam your hand on the table, your voice low and dangerous. “Enough, Grigori. That’s not who I am anymore.”
Grigori holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Of course, of course. I meant no offense. I’m merely ... surprised. After all, your previous husbands weren’t quite so fortunate. Or so young and vigorous.”
Toto’s jaw clenches, his eyes darting between you and Grigori. “I think it’s time we left.”
As you stand to leave, Grigori calls out, “Oh, but we’ve only just begun to catch up. There’s so much your husband doesn’t know, Y/N. About the power you wield, the empire you inherited. Don’t you think he deserves to know the truth about the woman he married?”
You turn back, your eyes flashing with a mix of anger and something deeper, more dangerous. “The truth, Grigori, is that I left that life behind. I found something real, something worth living for. And if you or anyone else tries to drag me back into that world, you’ll regret it.”
Grigori leans forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Is that a threat, my dear?”
You smile, cold and sharp. “Consider it a friendly warning. From one old friend to another.”
As you and Toto walk away, Grigori can’t help but feel a shiver run down his spine. He’d forgotten, in the years since you’d left Russia, just how formidable you could be.
He watches as you and Toto have an intense, whispered conversation by the exit. To his surprise, instead of storming out, Toto nods, takes your hand, and leads you back to Grigori’s table.
“Mr. Volkov,” Toto says, his voice steady and controlled, “I think it’s time we had an honest conversation. About Y/N’s past, about your ... association, and about how we move forward from here.”
Grigori raises an eyebrow, impressed despite himself. “Well, well. It seems you’ve found yourself a man with a spine, Y/N. Very well, let’s talk.”
As the three of you settle back into your seats, Grigori can’t help but feel a grudging respect for Toto. Most men would have run for the hills by now, but here he is, ready to face the truth head-on.
“So,” Grigori begins, pouring fresh vodka for all of you, “where shall we start? With Dmitri? With the Bratva? Or perhaps with the mysterious deaths of Y/N’s previous husbands?”
Toto takes a sip of vodka, his eyes never leaving Grigori’s. “Let’s start with the truth. All of it.”
You sigh, your hand finding Toto’s under the table. “Alright. Dmitri was my fifth husband. He was a high-ranking member of the Bratva, and when he died, I inherited his position and his connections.”
Grigori nods approvingly. “She’s being modest. Y/N didn’t just inherit Dmitri’s position — she expanded it. Forged new alliances, eliminated rivals. She became a force to be reckoned with in our world.”
Toto looks at you, his expression unreadable. “And the other husbands?”
You meet his gaze steadily. “They were all older men, all terminally ill. It was a business arrangement. They got to spend their last months with a young wife, and I got their fortunes. No foul play, I swear.”
Grigori chuckles. “Oh, come now. There were rumors, whispers of poison, of accidents arranged just so ...”
You whirl on him, your eyes flashing. “Rumors started by people like you. People who couldn’t believe a woman could gain power without resorting to murder.”
Toto squeezes your hand, his voice gentle. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”
You turn back to him, your expression softening. “Because I wanted to leave it all behind. When I met you, I saw a chance at a real life, a real relationship. I didn’t want my past to taint that.”
Grigori watches this exchange with growing fascination. He’s never seen you like this — vulnerable, open, genuinely in love. It’s... unsettling.
“And now?” He asks, unable to keep the curiosity from his voice. “What becomes of your empire, Y/N? Your power? Your connections?”
You straighten, your voice firm. “I’ve been systematically dismantling it all. Using the resources to fund legitimate businesses, charitable foundations. I’m out. For good.”
Grigori leans back, genuinely surprised. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You’re really walking away from it all.”
Toto speaks up, his voice steady. “We’re building something new together. Something honest, something we can be proud of.”
Grigori studies them both for a long moment, then throws back the last of his vodka. “Well, I’ll be damned. You’ve actually done it. You’ve found a way out.”
You nod, a small smile playing at your lips. “I have. And I’d appreciate it if you’d spread the word. Y/N Wolff is retired. Permanently.”
Grigori stands, straightening his jacket. “Consider it done, my dear. But know this — there will always be those who remember who you were, what you were capable of. Be careful.”
As he turns to leave, Toto calls out, “Mr. Volkov?”
Grigori pauses, looking back. “Yes?”
Toto’s voice is calm, but there’s steel beneath the surface. “If anyone from Y/N’s past tries to cause trouble for us, they’ll have to deal with me. And I assure you, I can be just as formidable as my wife when necessary.”
Grigori studies Toto for a moment, then breaks into a broad grin. “I believe you, Mr. Wolff. I really do. Take care of her, won’t you? She’s one of a kind.”
As Grigori walks away, he can’t help but shake his head in amazement. You, the Black Widow of the Bratva, settled down and in love. Will wonders never cease?
He glances back one last time to see you and Toto deep in conversation, your hands intertwined on the table. There’s an openness to your expression that he’s never seen before, a vulnerability that speaks volumes.
For the first time in years, Grigori feels a twinge of envy. Not for your power or your wealth, but for the genuine connection you seem to have found. As he steps out into the cool Monaco night, he wonders if perhaps it’s time for him to consider a change of his own.
After all, if the infamous Y/N can find redemption and true love, maybe there’s hope for an old dog like him yet.
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rafescvntyclubgf · 2 months ago
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𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮𝔂𝓼𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓫𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓼
𝙽𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚢 𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬
𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝔼𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥: 𝕊𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕥 𝕃𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕊𝕦𝕘𝕒𝕣
𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚝!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙱𝚎𝚜𝚝𝙵𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛
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warnings: pet names, swearing, mutual pining, kissing, friends to lovers, fluffy, unprotected p in v, fingering, praise, teasing, soft!rafe, handjob, finger sucking, cum tasting, ownership (“you're mine”; said sweetly).
📖 All of my asks got deleted 💕😭 so I'm not sure who requested this, but thank you! The premise is that you and Rafe have been best friends for a while, and your relationship has become more romantic, blurring the lines between.
Masterlist
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Reader’s POV:
Vanilla and cinnamon waft through the kitchen, mixing with the string lights' warm, cozy glow. Christmas music softly plays from the living room TV, drowned out by the sounds of his laughter and yours.
Rafe was entirely too distracting and far too charming. “You sure you know what you’re doin’, sweetheart?” He teases as he leans back into the counter with that frat boy smile. His blue eyes sparkle mischievously— tousled chestnut hair falling along his forehead, so perfectly undone it’s almost unfair.
“Stop,” you laugh as you shoot him a look. “‘Course I know what I’m doing… Unlike you, Mr. ‘How does the microwave work, again? Can’t get this fuckin’ thing to start.’”
His mouth falls open in disgust as he pushes off the counter, walking to your side, bumping you with his elbow playfully. He stays close, the brush of his skin against yours sending electricity through you.
“That was one time,” he whispers playfully.
You shake your head and bite your lip as you feel the warmth of his words so close. It's closer than he usually gets, making your heart flutter. “You’re hopeless-”
”Hopelessly handsome. M’fuckin’ sexy,” he rasps as his fingers find your sides, tickling you. You scurry away, but he grabs you, pulling you back in. “Admit it,” he grins. Your cheeks burn hot from your smile, crumbling under his beautiful gaze.
The two of you have been dancing around this for weeks: flirty texts, late-night drunk phone calls that stretched out until the sun came up, lingering touches just like this. It was intoxicating and maddening.
"You’re alright," you whisper, watching the corners of his lips curl into a smile.
“Yeah?” He breathes as he moves in closer. “Could say the same about you.”
Beep.
The timer goes off, shattering the tension for the moment. You pull away reluctantly, grabbing the oven mit as your racing heart starts to slow. “Umm…” You giggle nervously. “Can you roll that out for me?”
You gesture toward the rolling pin, and Rafe nods, hanging his head slightly to conceal his smile. "Yes, ma'am," he drawls with that rich southern charm.
He walks past you, a large hand brushing against the small of your back as he makes his way to the sugar cookie dough and pin. You inhale slightly at the contact between you, making him look back with a smile.
The two of you work beside each other for a little longer—silence fills the space for the first time all night. But his heavy gaze speaks volumes as you catch him stealing glances out of the corner of your eye.
“All done,” he beams, looking down at his work proudly, the cream-colored dough spread out on the counter perfectly. You step away from your place, setting down the frosting knife before looking up at him. “Good?”
“Look at you,” you coo.
His eyes fall to your lips; mouth tugging into a quick, sly smile.
“Are you okay?” You ask softly.
“Yeah, baby,” your stomach falls as that name leaves his lips so easily that he doesn’t even notice it himself. Rafe lifts his hand, brushing his thumb against your mouth. “Got a little somethin’ on your lip. You’ve been lickin’ the spoon or what?” He hums, his voice thick and sweet like honey. He draws his thumb between his lips, sucking down as your heart thuds in your chest.
You step closer, your body drawing to Rafe like a magnet. “You’re makin’ this really hard,” he mumbles as his baby blue eyes rest on yours. “You know that, right?”
You swallow hard—your mind, a mix of emotions. “You aren’t exactly making this easy either,” you whisper.
He smiles at your words, making your knees feel weak. “What if I don’t want easy,” he asks as he cups your soft cheek in his big hand, and you tilt into his touch. "You're beautiful, princess," he mumbles, his voice reverent. "Just perfect." You turn your cheek slightly, feeling slightly nervous, but he uses his finger to draw you back in, guiding your eyes to his. “You are."
“Thank you.”
“I don't know how long I've wanted to tell you that—it's been a while. So long… too long. I just didn't wanna fuck this up.”
“You’re my best friend,” you whisper, and he looks down at you, his smile falling slightly.
“You’re my best friend, too,” he assures.
“I don't want easy either-” Before you can say anymore, you close the gap, pressing your lips against his, soft and sweet, ramping up fast. A deep groan rumbles in Rafe’s throat— kiss deepening, his hands sliding around your waist, pulling you into his muscular chest, hearts banging against each other, the taste of sugar lingering on his soft lips.
He pulls back for a moment, your airy laugh mingling with his as your excitement bubbles up in your chest.
“Fuck, princess,” he sighs blissfully, cupping your cheeks in his ringed hands, pressing his forehead against yours.
Beep.
The timer breaks you up, and he sighs, letting you go for the moment. You step toward the oven, your head dizzy with thoughts of Rafe and what had just happened as you replace a sheet of cookies with the next item, carefully selecting the brownies to give yourself a little more time in between. You reach up, pushing the numbers, selecting thirty minutes.
Rafe bites his lips to hinder his smile, catching the boost in time from the last, watching you divert from your cooking schedule to get a little more time with him, or so he hopes.
"Should we… Umm. Should we do something while we wait?” You ask as you nod toward the living room.
“Yeah, baby,” he responds quickly, racing against the clock. He clears his throat, catching himself acting too hurriedly. “… You wanna watch a movie or somethin’ while we wait?”
The two of you walk over to the couch, crashing down on the top before pulling up Netflix. Your body feels awkward after what happened, knowing you could get away with more, trying not to go too far, just in case. You replay the kiss in your mind again and again as you look through the movie titles, not concentrating as you should, but between those thoughts and Rafe’s glances, it’s hard to focus.
”That one?” He asks gently, not looking at the screen but at you, just wanting you to pick something.
You smile and nod, selecting the movie, but it instantly fades to the background.
You inch closer, your arm touching his, the heat of your skin brushing gently. Rafe turns toward you slightly. Your head finds his shoulder; Rafe’s muscular arm stretching wide before wrapping it around your body.
He pulls you nearer, needing you close—his soft breaths syncing with yours. You reach your hand out, resting it on his thigh. Time starts to blur as the touches become bolder: tracing skin, wandering fingers, soft hums at deeper pressure, desperate touches dipping under clothes.
Beep.
You draw a resounding breath, pushing it out slowly; the air between the two of you, charged with sexual tension.
Moving quicker than usual, you pull the brownies out of the oven, carefully selecting the next: the cinnamon bread, giving you even more time.
A smile slips your lips as you look back into the living room, catching Rafe peering over the couch— caught in a moment of excitement, seeing the time himself.
You walk into the living room, feeling the anticipation rise as you get closer. Rafe sits up on the couch, and right when you get close enough, he grabs for you, pulling you on top. He wastes no time pressing his lips against yours, unwilling to take that risk again. 
The kiss is divine—deeper than before, more urgent than ever. You rest your hands on his chest, moving lower and lower as your pulse quickens. Rafe moans against your lips, sending a surge of need straight through you.
Your fingers curl under the bottom of his shirt, tugging at it slightly, and he takes his cue, pulling it off between passionate kisses. His big fingers reach up, thumbing at the buttons of your blouse, popping them open as his lips move with yours.
Reaching your hands behind your back, you unclasp your bra before he can even ask, making him moan hungrily against your lips. He buries his face in his chest, nuzzling into your sensitive skin.
Rafe takes your nipple between his plump lips, swirling and sucking as your head falls back.
He pulls away; his eyes half-lidded, pupils blown with lust. “Don’t stop,” you plead, your voice hoarse and needy.
“Tell me what you want, baby,” he hums as he wraps you a little tighter in his arms, kissing along your neck. Your head falls to the side, giving him better access to you skin.
“I want you…” You whisper. “All of you. Please,” you plead.
”Right here?” He asks. You feel Rafe smile against your neck before his hand drifts under your skirt, fingers brushing against the soaked lace of your panties.
“Right here,” you whisper as you rest your hand against his pants, cupping his big, hard bulge in your hand, whimpering against his lips at his size alone.
“And what do you want right here?” He asks with a teasing edge, making you smile dreamily, thinking back to how many times you yearned for this moment, imagining this is exactly how he would act. He wants to hear it…
”I want you to fuck me, Rafe… I need you,” you slip your hand into his pants as he pushes your panties to the side.
You capture his tongue between your lips, sucking as you wrap your fingers around his thick dick. Rafe groans deeply—the pads of his rough fingers start circling your aching clit. “I wanna fuck you, princess,” he smiles as his fingers trace your soaked slit too, teasing your entrance. “I wanna push my cock deep,” he mimics his word with a thrust of his hand, fucking two long fingers in your tight hole, making you gasp. “I want you to cream all over my cock, princess. I wanna make you feel so, so good,” he hums between kisses as he curls his fingers inside you, making your toes do the same.
“Shit,” you pant as he drags his fingers across you g-spot again and again. You tug on his long cock, pulling to the tip, making him bite down on your lip as you smudge his precum over his swollen head.
"Rafe, please,” you whimper, craving more.
”You don’t wanna cum on my fingers, pretty?” He rasps, his smirk heard in his low, deep tone.
“I wanna cum on your cock… Please. I haven't…”
Rafe slows his movements slightly, tilting his forehead against yours, breathing quickly. “You’ve never cum before?” He asks, his voice laced with lust and curiosity.
“Not like that-”
“I’d be the first?” He asks hastily, and you nod your head ‘yes.’ "Fuck…” He mumbles under his breath, his voice raw with desire and need.
Before you can think, he rolls you to your back, pushing your skirt around your waist and your panties down your thighs. Rafe rises on his knees, tugging his pants down, releasing his long, hard cock.
Precum drips off his throbbing tip, landing your soft skin; rolling warmly down your inner thigh making goosebumps flair across your bare skin.
He looks down at you desperately, but you already know what he wants to ask. “I wanna feel you, Rafe,” you whisper as your fingers swirl, circling your puffy clit, making your thighs draw in, as you keep yourself on edge.
“Yeah?” He asks as he tilts down, spreading your thighs again, stroking his fat cock as he lowers himself to your lips. “You want me to fill up this perfect pussy, princess?” Your heart races as his filthy words fall from his lips—just like you guessed they would.
“… Please, baby,” you whimper, lips brushing against his as he rubs his fat tip along your slit, bumping your fingers, making you move your hand away—a look in his eyes letting you know he was going to take care of you. “I want to feel you dripping out of me.”
He moans at your words, and you gasp as he circles his head around your clit, eyes rolling back in your head. “You’re gonna, baby… All night. Alright?”
Rafe grabs your wrist, slipping your slight fingers in his mouth, tasting your pussy on his tongue for the first time. He sucks down, eyes rolling back, groaning around your digits. “So fuckin’ sweet,” he pants. “I’m gonna get you off with my mouth later… You ever done that before?”
“No…” You pant.
“Holy shit… I’m gonna make you feel so good, okay? I'm gonna be all you need, I promise,” Rafe whispers as he presses his big cock against your entrance, your lips falling open from the stretch already. "Are we doing this, baby?”
“Yes-” You whisper, pulling his lips to yours as he thrusts inside. You moan against his mouth, never feeling so full.
“Fuck, baby,” he groans as he bottoms you out; your warm, wet cunt wrapping around him tight.
He tips his hips upward, stretching you out even more, making you cry pitifully against his mouth. “Shit,” you whine as tears pool at the corners of your eyes.
”Baby, mpfhhh…” He grunts as he pulls back, looking at you. “Feels good?”
You nod quickly as tears of pleasure and happiness tumble down your cheek, lip tucked between your teeth. “So fucking good… More, baby. Please…”
”Yeah, sweetheart?” He asks as he drags out, letting you feel every curve and vein, brushing your tears off your face with his thumbs. “How do you want it?”
“Fast…” You whisper. “… Deep. Fuck me deep, Rafe.”
“Yeah, princess?” He asks as he starts to move, picking up the pace. “That’s how you like it?”
“Mhmm,” you respire, barely pressing the words past your lips before they get caught up in a moan. Rafe ramps up the pace, pounding you into the couch, burying you to the hilt.
Your arms wrap around him tight, nails clawing into his tanned skin, scratching down his back as his skin claps against yours.
He grunts with each thrust, the muscles in his jaw strained, trying his best to hold back his finish as you get closer to yours, wanting desperately to cum with you.
“Rafe…” You whine as you look at the slight space between your bodies, watching your sloppy cunt take every inch—Rafe’s dick pulls out each time, slicked with your wetness. “M’gonna cum.” He angles his hip, just like he had at the start, making your eyes cross slightly before fluttering shut.
”Look at me, baby. Come on,” he whispers lovingly, letting his thumb brush along your bottom lip just like it had in the kitchen earlier, that soft touch contrasting the slamming of his body against yours.
“I’m gonna-“
“Holy shit…” He moans as your pussy tightens around him, your body cumming harder than it ever has before, taking him with it. Rafe moans your name as his hips stutter, muscles flexing as he floods you with his sticky release.
He pulls back just enough to look down at you underneath him— his soft lips claiming yours tenderly as your bodies soften against eachother.
You breathe a deep sigh of relief as he kisses the corner of your lips, then your cheek, working to your neck before tucking himself close.
Rafe’s rich cologne mixes with the warm smell of sex and the sugary sweetness around you. The sharp beep of the timer startles you both, breaking you out of your spell.
He doesn’t let go—helping you back into your clothes before walking to the kitchen. Rafe leans back into the counter as you walk toward the oven, your heart racing still.
“Not quite yet,” you giggle, pushing the three words past your lips through nerves, giving the bread a little more time.
You turn toward Rafe, and he smiles down at you. The silence between you isn’t uncomfortable, your words you’re both dying to say on the tips of your tongues, makes the tension and excitement between you even sweeter.
“Co’mere,” he whispers as he reaches out his hand, pulling you toward him. Your body relaxes in his— the pounding of your heart in your head slows and softens, leaving behind the gentle melody of the music playing.
You lay your head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat fall as you sway to the music together. The lights are low—just a twinkle above. Rafe rests his chin on your head, taking a deep, needed breath. “Are you okay, princess?” He asks sweetly.
“I am,” you smile. “That was amazing.”
Rafe’s muscles soften; his uncertainty melting away at your words. "You’re amazing," he hums, just over a whisper. You lift your eyes to Rafe’s, watching them glimmer as he looks down at you in adoration and disbelief like he still can’t believe that this happened himself. “I need to ask you somethin’…”
”Okay,” you whisper as your pounding heart muddles the sound of the music again.
"Everything I said before… I meant that. I don’t wanna keep pretending like we’re just friends. I’m done fakin’ it,” his voice lulls with emotion as he tries his best to control his feelings before speaking again. “Especially after that…”
“That was perfect,” you smile, giving him a little more assurance.
“Be mine. Officially. I want this— You and me. Alright? Just… Fuck— Just say ‘yes’.” Rafe’s vulnerability almost brings you to tears; his confidence shattered completely as he waits for you to speak, hoping for your heart.
You look up at him, pulling him a little closer, letting your soft lips brush against his, breathing a sigh of solace as you whisper the words you've always wanted to say.
"I’m yours.”
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lilacgaby · 4 months ago
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i guess i'm stuck forever by the glue,
oh, and you.
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pairing: spiderman!megumi x reader
synopsisꨄ: you and megumi have been on and off for a while, one situation to another has you two webbed together. not like either of you mind. wc: 3k
tags: fem!reader, cursing, fighting, use of she/her, drinking, yuuji is the goat, suggestive (kissing(???)), fluff, pet names, college!au, megumi has a lip piercing. yeah.
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as megumi swung back from a night full of work, greeting his roommate yuuji with a fist bump and an exhausted smile as he pulled up his mask, he laid down on his bed exhausted.
his black webbed suit now discarded by the bed as he stared up to the ceiling of his room. his chest heaving slightly as he put an arm over his eyes, blocking out all light so he could sleep for a couple hours before it all began at nine.
not.
he had classes today, classes he dreaded for one reason. you.
something happened between you that should've never been given a single thought, never should've been conceived even in his mind.
he'd kissed you. and that was putting it lightly.
it was at some random college party he'd been convinced to go to by yuuji, he had been taking down cans of cheap beer mindlessly, the bottle now a bit crushed in his hand as he saw you walk in.
fitted dress, hugging you so right. jewelry shining in the dim light of the party, but this place was forgotten as his eyes settled on you. and yours in him.
a lot of the party was a blur in his mind, events playing together and becoming one because the only thing he kept focused on was you.
he thinks you drank a lot too, he can't quite remember. his hand slaps over his eyes in frustration, because the one part he thinks he'll never forget plays in his head on repeat.
your lips on his, you on his lap as his hand held you against him. you were on a bed, how did you get there? he didn't know but didn't care. his hand tilting your head slightly, with the feeling of your hands in his hair. the piercing on his lip rubbing almost addictively painful against yours, his tongue almost slipping in your mouth until–
todo. his stupid upperclassman barged in, a comically loud gasp coming from his lips as he yelled, “megumi and [name] are making out in here!”
safe to say you jumped off of him pretty quick, his hands ripped off your waist as he stood to attention, you shoving past him as you left. megumi shot an annoyed glare as he walked past him, only for yuuji to laugh in his face as he settled back onto the couch of the living room.
“what?” megumi grunted, he was already annoyed, he didn't need yuuji laughing at him right now.
“it's just..” yuuji pointed a finger to his face, before cracking an impossibly wider smile. “you have lipstick all over your face megumi.”
after throwing a pillow at yuuji’s face, he went home.
but you've been on his mind ever since, and he didn't know what to do about it.
you've been ‘friends’ for a while, only because of mutual relations between your other friends. but you'd always had this weird connection between you two. sharing wired headphones during school trips, lending a shoulder to sleep on, studying together.
he'd hate to think it'd be lost just because of a drunken— no it wasn't an accident. far from it. but he just wished he talked to you before it got that far.
with a groan, he shoves his head into a pillow, letting out a muffled scream.
he finally felt his thoughts calm down, his eyes closing as he fell asleep..
and awoke to the beeping of his alarm clock. he threw a web at it and stuck it to the wall. this was going to be annoying.
you seemed to be just as awkward as he was about this whole ordeal, fingers playing with each other as you avoided eye contact with him at all cost.
not like he fared any better, anytime he tried to start up conversation with you, his eyes would fall to your lips and make him flush red.
just two hopeless idiots.
class ended with no words spoken between you two and a voice screaming at him to do something. anything.
but he didn't, and you were already gone. he sighed before packing up and heading back to the dorm.
yuuji had become sort of like his intelligence.. though it wasn't the best idea megumi ever had, he was good hearted about it at least.
as megumi snacked on a bunny-shaped popsicle, yuuji looked shocked to see him. he looked at him blankly before starting, “i didn't think you'd be here.”
megumi squinted, “why wouldn't i be in my own house?”
“because doc oc attacked by one of the school dorms?”
a moment of silence passed, the bunny now miserably dripping down the drain forgotten, as megumi ran to put his suit on. “lead with that shit, idiot!”
he zipped out the window of his room, yuuji yelled out behind him, “dorm 5-C!”
megumi swung quickly, the black and white suit making him stand out in the broad daylight as he sped over there. landing a kick on the face of the man controlling the robotic suit, before landing perfectly on the top of the dorm.
“hey freak. don't you have anything better to do?” he mocked, before webbing down one of their arms.
“oh, nice of you to finally show up, spiderman.” the man spoke, attempting to grab him but slamming his hand down onto the building instead. “so slow, what if i'd killed someone already?”
“you think you're that good?” he sped over to land a kick on the main body of the mission, making the man keel over.
“no, i know so.” the man retorted, before slamming down three arms at once. he missed megumi entirely, but one section of the dorm was now completely cut off.
‘crap’. megumi thought, before attaching a string of web to the man's neck. “can you be more considerate next time?” before he could swat it off, a wave of venom passed through his neck, paralyzing him.
megumi, after breathing a sigh of relief, quickly did a once-over of the damaged area. swinging by only to see you, standing at the broken off chunk of what must've been your room with a horrified look.
you stared blankly at the outside, an odd look on your face. the boba that you stopped to get at the cafe now dropped on the floor.
megumi rushed over to you, moving you from the dangerous edge as he instinctively asked, “[name]! are you okay?”
you looked at him, tilting your head in confusion as he held you close. “..spider-man? why do you know my name?”
shit.
“uhh. i.. know one of your friends? he spoke of you once.”
“really? who?”
“um.. oops.. his name must of slipped my mind.”
“oh?”
“just– listen, you've got to find someone to stay with. sorry about this, but your dorm is wrecked.”
it seemed to get your attention off the topic for a second you looking over and mentally crying at all your lost things. “aw man, my stuff.”
he finally let you out his embrace so you could start calling up people to let you stay with them. “um.. i'm really sorry about this [name].”
“it's not your fault spider-man,” you said while texting, “i probably would be dead if you didn't come when you did. so thank you.”
you gave him a polite smile, before he nodded and swung off.
he finally made it back to his dorm, slumping over at his desk, changing quickly so he could just be done.
he walked out his room, sweatpants hung low as he went to go get another bunny popsicle, only for this one to meet the same fate as its predecessor when he saw you walk in with yuuji.
“hey megumi!” yuuji waved, his eyes wide as if to signal something.
“she's gonna be staying here, since her dorm was ruined by a villain. isn't that horrible?”
“why are you being weird?”
“i'm not?”
megumi stood jaw slack at the implications of living with you, his face flushed before he let out a small. “okay.”
weeks living with you weren't bad. you were a good roommate, you'd clean, do your part of the dishes, hang out as you three, it was all good.
he'd let you borrow his clothes, his sweatshirts and pants became you new style. since his fight with that villain had left you without any clothes.
everything had been fine, you'd even hung out in his room one on one once, lazing about as you laid on the silken sheets, not knowing how you were affecting him.
one day, an altercation with some random villain had left him bleeding from the stomach, stumbling as he walked in. he only managed to make it to the living room, before falling onto the floor. he didn't have his suit on thankfully, he had been caught off guard and had to fight without it, but he'd never missed the slight protection it gave him until now.
you saw him, keeled over on the floor, and rushed to his side. “megumi? what's–” you let a sharp gasp escape your lips at the sight of the blood puddle under him. you flipped him over as gentle as you could, pulling up his shirt and running to find a kit.
you didn't think you'd ever need to use your sewing skills for skin, but you were weaving the needle in and out of the huge wound with precision, ignoring the tears burning at you eyes.
you didn't know what was going on with him, why'd he'd leave at random hours throughout the night and come back bruised every time. but you couldn't find it in yourself to ask.
now you wish you did.
“megumi?” he was out cold, face still as you poked his cheek gently. you dabbed at his wound, cleaning it up before getting yuuji to help him into his bed.
he woke up alone, his wounds even from the months before having been taken care of. when he walked in to the kitchen, only to have you grab his hand.
“megumi.”
“ah. [name].” his eyes were wide as he stared at your grip on him. “what.. what do you do when you go out? you come back all.. bruised and stuff.”
crap.
“i.. i can't tell you.”
you gripped his hand tighter at that, before letting go completely. “‘kay. but,” you held up a finger to his face. “i'll take care of your injuries everyday.”
his eyes widened impossibly, before a small smile overcame his face. “yeah? sounds good.”
that's how he found himself, every night with your hand tending anything that ailed him. you'd make jokes about what you think he was out doing, beating up underclassmen or whatnot. until.. he left his mask in plain vision once.
“hey, why do you have spider-man's mask in here?”
his breath hitched, eye catching the object that fell out of the closet he shoved it in.
“uh.. i'm.. spider-man's friend?” he mentally face palmed.
“oh!” you said, eyes brightening. “now i get it! wouldn't you believe it if i said that i met spider-man when my dorm like.. got destroyed?”
“yeah. uh– he told me.”
“oh! he said he had a friend, i didn't know it was you!”
“yeah i help him. research and stuff, get caught in the aftermath a lot.”
“that makes sense. you're so cool megumi.”
he flushed, becoming hyper aware of your hands on his.
“yeah, whatever.”
your almost nightly ritual was only cut off by a party your friend was throwing. you were so excited, not having gone to one since your dorm room was destroyed.
until you needed someone to help zip up your dress. with your friends half an hour away, you wrapped a towel around yourself and knocked on megumi’s door.
“yo–” whatever he was going to say got caught in his breath at this sight of you, clad in a towel.
“hey megumi. can you help me real quick?”
he ripped his eyes off of you momentarily, before averting his eyes and gesturing for you to come in.
he almost freaked out when you dropped the towel, only to see a gorgeous dress underneath. “can you zip me up? i can't reach.”
he sucked in a deep breath, before putting a thumbs up.
with shaky hands he zipped up your dress, instinctively you turned around. “how do i look?”
he couldn't voice his words, but as you saw the gulp that came over him, you knew you looked good. with a pat on the back and a, “see you there!” you set off.
and you found yourself in the same position as the last time, except he was on top of you, your hands pulling him closer as your legs wrapped around him. same bed too, not that it mattered.
you felt the same pressure from his piercing from last time, you two weren't nearly as drunk as then though. it was bruising your lip, you two were breathless, his hands moved, about to hold your face when–
his phone rang. you both jumped, but when he saw who it was he knew he had to answer. it was yuuji, and he wouldn't have called if it wasn't important. “sorry.” is all he said before he went outside.
he always kept his suit near him, so he slipped it on and went to the site where it was reported doc oc would be. being he escaped prison and all.
you were upset and angry in all senses of the word. you stormed out into the streets, the cold biting your skin as you stomped away. only to find yourself… entangled in an iron hand.
“spider-man likes you, right?” a man asked, warped voice behind you. “stay still and i won't hurt you. too bad.”
you were dragged, silent as to not upset this strange man. he settled over a random building, holding you over an edge.
“stay quiet 'til he gets here, i don't wanna hear you scream.”
—-
all the information had been wrong, doc had been on the complete opposite side of the city. with a screaming yuuji in his ear, he now knew the villain held you in his grasp. great.
the guy was shaking you around over the edge, the one you were tumbling over mentally was now physical as the far distance to the bottom loomed under you.
his heart sped up at the sight of you, he made his presence known. “hey, how'd you escape from the psych ward?”
“it was confinement, and i don't owe you any answer spider-man! you'll let me beat you down or– or i'll throw your girlfriend off this roof.” the villain shook you slightly, making you yelp.
“you won't be doing anything.”
“oh, yes i will.”
the arm with you encircled in it raised, he sped over to web the base of his body to the ground, kicking the control in with his leg.
the dome surrounding the villains body shattered, leaving a shaking man in its wake.
“d-don't hurt me! or i'll–”
a punch by the side of his head shut him up. “put her down, before i put you down.”
“i– i can't! that arm is broken! t-the whole panel is!”
he looked and sure enough he was right, the control buttons were electrified and tweaking.
he scoffed. “stay here, actually.” he webbed him down, with a little venom just to be safe.
he walked calmly on top of the arm, seeing the relief form on your lips bruised from him.
“hey pretty.” he said, not knowing where the sudden confidence came from.
“spider-man! thank god.” you breathed a sigh. “yeah, don't thank me yet.” he muttered. “you have to trust me [name]. can you do that for me?” he asked, looking right at you as he stood over the only thing keeping you alive.
“i mean.. yeah.”
“okay then. you're going to fall. but i'm going to catch you, okay?”
you nodded, closing your eyes. “okay. don't worry, i got you.”
before you knew it you were falling, you screamed obviously, because you stupidly opened your eyes to the cars moving below. the lights blinding as you fell closer and closer, until you were suddenly in the embrace of him.
“are you okay?” he asked, looking at your face of pure shock at the feeling of being swung around. “yeah, now that you're here! this is so cool!” he smiled, the fabric of his mask wrinkling as he took you to your unknowingly shared home, though he took the long route.
he was a bit too happy when he dropped you off at your window, antsy as you finally settled in. “thank you, spidey.”
“ah, it's nothing. just doing my job you know?” he smirked, you nodded. you tilted you head slightly as you moved towards him, heart in your throat as you put your hand under the neck of his mask, lifting it up just to reveal his lips.
“what, you trying to pay me for my trouble?” he genuinely didn't know why he was acting on his impulses so much around you, maybe it was the freedom of being spiderman. but you didn't mind as you kissed him. sparks flew, almost literally.
a lightbulb went off in your head, you gasped when you felt the metal of his piercing nudge against the sensitive bruise on your lip from earlier.
no way. “megumi?”
he froze, before a small, “hi?” escaped him.
you pulled off his mask, green eyes greeting you and a messy bunch of hair that you have no idea how it fit being revealed. all you could do was laugh, before planting another kiss on his lips.
“you're so dumb. but i guess i am too, huh?”
a smile overcame his lips, matching yours as he let out a small laugh too.
“guess we are.”
the night ended with you two in each others arms, him speaking on his experiences as spider-man and you questioning him on it. his hands now playing with your hair.
“name slipped your mind huh?” you joked, reminiscing on your first conversation with spider-man.
“tch, shut up.” he grumbled, before silencing you with a kiss. he physically didn't want to be far from you anymore, he held you even closer. even if you poked fun at him.
a webbed seal of fate tied you two together, a web woven by cupid themself.
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kingtomura · 11 months ago
Text
Arcade
Summary: There's nothing worse than getting ditched by your so-called friends on a Friday night. Well, maybe the asshole complaining about your skills at the arcade has that beat. Tomura Shigaraki knows how to make one hell of a first impression. word count: 8.5k Part three to Good Girl and Bloodline Content: Tomura Shigaraki x female reader, quirkless AU, fluff, angst, virginity loss, virginity kink, corruption kink, mutual masturbation, vaginal fingering, oral (f! receiving), praise, strict parents, toxic parents, smut with plot, protected sex, piv, overstim, tomura talks you through it, if you know what i mean, reader is kinda bad at games sry, mdni crossposted to ao3 | Part 4 is here!
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You meet him on a Friday.
The mall is crowded and filled to the brim with groups of friends, chattering, laughing – wondering what to get into for the night. You’re just trying to find your group. They said that they would meet you here almost an hour ago, but no one has shown up. 
Bitterly you kick the small rock in front of you, officially accepting the fact that you had been ditched and decide it’s too early to go home. It’s a Friday night for pete’s sake. You walk aimlessly through the mall, only pausing when the noises of video game lasers and hyper dance music flood your ears. 
The arcade. Of course you could kill some time there, people go there alone all the time. No one would think you were out of place and effectively ditched. 
You make your choice, beelining for the upgraded rendition of Pac Man and slipping in a coin to start it. 
The excitement was short lived as you remembered that the game isn’t as easy as you remembered. Whatever, you take your leave and try for a game you hadn’t played before. Something simple with muted colors. It’s fun, but a little difficult. You find yourself getting lost in it, the sounds drowning out the bustling of the arcade.
You huff as you lose another round and reach down, ready to drop a coin and start up again when you hear an annoyed groan coming from behind.
“Can I help you?” You ask, giving the guy a once over. He wore all black with ashen hair and ruby red eyes that shone with annoyance.
“Yeah, you could find another game to suck at.” He scoffs, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.
Irritating. 
You take the challenge. “Oh yeah? Well let's see you try it then, since it’s so easy.”
He shrugs, brushing by you and inserting his own coin into the machine, the beeps of the game starting up and filling tension between you. 
This guy… was good at the game — as much as you hated to admit it. He blew through the enemies with little to no trouble and easily passed your place in the game. Ending it all with one final blow to the boss and snagging the new high score right before your eyes. 
To say you were embarrassed was a little less than an understatement, but you wouldn’t let him know that. So, you double down, brows furrowed and standing proud. 
The mystery man turns back to you, carmine eyes gleaming in triumph over his easy win. “See? You suck.”
You bristle at his blunt insult and bite back. “Yeah, well I only tried this game today! You think you're so good, why don’t you try to beat me at a game I'm good at.”
He looks you over, eyes dragging from your head to the converse on your feet, before turning back around towards the game and dropping another coin into it. 
“No thanks.” 
This asshole… you don’t know why you're fighting this battle, you don't even know this man! But it would be a lie if you didn’t think it was entertaining —- in an annoying way, of course. 
But you take your loss and give up, moving on to the next game. It is something silly and bright, but also difficult. It's easy to get lost in and you find yourself aggressively tapping the buttons, inevitably losing the game and huffing off to find the next one. 
You choose a first person shooter this time. Originally a two player game, but you play on your own — taking down zombie after zombie as you try (and fail) to progress to the next stage. 
You groan as the game over screen mocks you for what feels like the thousandth time that night and fight to keep from banging your head against the screen in frustration. 
“You’re doing it wrong,” a low voice speaks from behind you and you can already feel your anger flaring. “It’s all in the aim.”
“Yeah, well, what do you know?” You ask bitterly, watching as the same asshole from before puts a coin in and starts the game up again. 
He makes it look so easy, getting headshot after headshot as he easily advances to the next rounds. There was a moment you swore he would lose as a mob of zombies crowded him, but he hit a flammable container in the background, causing an explosion and killing all of the zombies. 
The winning screen lit up his pale cheeks in a red hue, giving him a faux flush of color making the butterflies in your stomach go wild. 
You can’t bite back your sigh of defeat this time, the losing streak getting to you. “Did you come over here just to show off? I can do without that, thank you.”
He only shakes his head, putting in another coin and starting the game up again. You stare blankly as he hits the two player button and hands you a gun. 
“No, let me show you why you’re not winning.” It's spoken like you asked him for advice and you know damn well you didn’t, but you take the gun anyway because you had no reason not to.
Muttering a taut fine and gearing yourself up for more humiliation, you stand tall and hold the plastic gun up to the screen, ready to shoot incoming enemies.
You jolt when you feel the guy come up behind you, placing his hands over yours and moving them so that you have a better grip on the weapon. 
It was so quick and so natural your cheeks began heating for a reason completely different from your earlier embarrassment. 
He was so warm, his hands were warm and calloused and you could feel the heat of his body radiating onto your back as he invaded your personal space to show you how to hold the plastic gun. 
Your heart hammered against your chest but you forced yourself to keep your eyes forward and face neutral. 
It was much easier said than done, you realize as he leans in, his soft hair tickling your ear as he spoke, guiding you through the mini tutorial of how to shoot the zombies. 
Everything he said went in one ear and out the other as you could only focus on the low vibrato of his voice, explaining as his fingers ghosted over yours, casually helping you shoot. 
The smell of fresh linen and what you could assume was citrus shampoo flooding your nose, making you dizzy as you struggled to listen. You wanted nothing more than to lean back into this stranger, fully feel the warmth of his chest against your back and run your fingers through his soft locks. But you didn’t. 
You will yourself to focus on the sounds of the game and his technique, knowing that you will probably be playing the game soon and didn’t want to look silly if your skill remained the same.
Unfortunately, he pulled away sooner rather than later, taking all of his extra warmth and citrus scent with him. 
“Do you get it now?” He asks, rasp in his voice having genuine curiosity and you nod, ready to try your luck at the game now.
It seems like his tutoring wasn’t in vain and you both pull out a win, scoring high enough to place your names on the screen. 
You can’t hide your excitement from your first win of the night, turning to your new companion as he looked over the other high scores on the board.
“So, what’s your name?” You ask, riding the high of the win and letting the confidence of it guide you. “Because I don't think it would be DustKing like your high score says.”
He gives a small laugh, something tiny and barely there – a mere blow of air through his nose — and looks at you. Those carmine eyes send heat rushing to your cheeks again and spreading to the tips of your ears. 
“Tomura.” Is all he gives and you nod, giving him your name and turning back to the arcade game again. 
“Wanna give it another try?” You offer, and he gives you a small smile back, dropping a coin into the machine and starting up another round. 
“Sure.”
And suddenly, being ditched on a Friday night by your so-called friends isn’t so bad.
—---------------------
The next time you meet Tomura, it is on a saturday afternoon.
The arcade is already bustling with people and the noise almost makes you turn on your heels and walk away. But you don't, instead white hair and dark clothes catch your eye and your feet move before your mind can catch up with the actions. 
“Hey!” You greet, a little too chipper and a little too close. 
Tomura looks down at you, eyes dropping to your shirt and then back up again. You weren't sure if he had been checking you out or trying to size you up. It makes you falter a bit as he goes back to his game, effectively ignoring you.
The behavior is odd, but you try not to let it bother you. The last time you met the both of you played the silly zombie game until the arcade closed — there was no way he didn’t remember who you were.
You feel a little out of place and the tiniest bit hurt as you take a step back, ready to find any other distraction in the arcade to erase this from your brain. 
“Um, okay, bye then—” You start, but you’re cut off by Tomura’s groan. He lost the game and it's difficult to hold back the laughter.
“God, you’re such a distraction. You made me lose!” He barks, riling you up.
Your brows furrow in frustration, you’ve barely said two words to the guy. “How did I make you lose? I just got here!”
“Yeah, and you're being all distracting, with your little shirt and your jeans. What do you want?” 
What the hell was that supposed to mean? The statement is lost on you as your anger takes the forefront. “Don’t blame me because you’re off your game today.”
“I will blame you, because it’s your fault.”
“Whatever, Tomura. Since you’re done losing at this game, why don't you try one you;ll need real skill to play?” you challenge and hope he takes the bait, the irritated narrowing of his eyes shows that he will and you bury your giddiness inside.
“Fine, I'll try it.”
Tomura loses. Bad. And you can't stop the tears from crowding your eyes as you laugh at his misfortune. 
“No, why did you rush out so fast?” You hear Tomura’s low growl of annoyance and continue, “This is not that kind of game! Slow and steady wins the race, you know.” 
Wiping the tear from your eye, you try again, dropping a coin and gearing up for the next round while Tomura sits beside you, seething. The game starts up again and it's bright and inviting. You strategically tap at the buttons, ensuring that your duck character can make it across the street safely. 
It's only when you hear the splash of the fallen duck next to yours that you break out into laughter once more, accidently tapping the button and sending your duck into the open road, ending the game for you both. 
“This game is rigged!” Tomura protests, frustration palpable and scowl deep on his face. 
You only shrug, knowing it's not an easy game, “Well, I'm sure you’d say that about any game you aren't good at.” 
“That's a lie.” He states. Blunt and firm. This guy… He’s so rude, but so cute. You want to bite him.
“It's not,” You keep your voice light as you tease, not wanting to push him too far. “You don’t have patience so of course you would lose.” 
“I could beat you at other games.”
This piques your interest, brows flying up. “Oh, yeah? Like what?” 
He shrugs, irritation all but dissipated. “Mario Kart. 200cc. It takes patience and it’s not rigged.” 
You take the bait, fingers twitching in anticipation, “Sure, but look where we are. There is no Mario Kart here.” 
The look tomura gives you makes you wonder if you’d asked if the sky were blue. “I have Mario Kart at my house. Stop by and I'll kick your ass at it.”
You are stubborn, and decide fine. If he wants to be cocky, then you could bring him down a notch. “Alright, let's go and we'll see.” 
He nods and you both take off, leaving the noise and excitement of the arcade behind.
Tomura was not lying when he said Mario Kart required patience. 
You were currently in his room, on his bed as you try and fail to correct your character's position on the race track. You were stuck against a wall and slowly turning the opposite way, meanwhile, the other karts whip past your character — mocking while you firmly sat in dead last. 
The small laugh Tomura gives is enough to send you into a rage. Standing up, you grip the controller with force, twisting and turning with it as if it would give you more control over your character. It did not. 
“Oh, come on!” You shout.
“You have to use your brakes at this speed.” Tomura supplies, his character crossing the finish line and cheering at its win. 
Your frustration is blinding because once again, those large, warm hands were covering yours, Tomura’s low voice filled with amusement as he guided your character to the finish line. 
Embarrassment wasn’t enough for what you were feeling. Not only did you talk shit and lose, but you needed help from him again. 
He pulls away and you fleetingly think it’s too soon, watching as Tomura grabs his own controller and flips through the options. “We could try a slower cc. 200cc is brutal to newer players.”
“You knew that and you still let me play it?” He clearly set you up, you bitterly realize as you sit next to him on the bed, watching the screen.
“Yeah, for all I know you could have been a prodigy. You weren't though, so it’s nothing I have to worry about.” 
“Hey!” You scold, smacking his arm and grabbing the controller. “Fine. Let's do 50cc and see how good you are.”
Tomura shrugs, plucking the item from your hand and getting more comfortable. “Sure, but don’t think slower races will mean you’re better.” 
The next race goes about the same as the first one, but at least this time your character sticks to the road and you’ve even placed higher this time. Eighth place! Take that. 
“Impressive,” Tomura drags, voice stripped of malice and insults. It was a small feat, but still better than twelfth place. 
It's hard to keep your excitement down, a stark contrast to Tomura’s reserved demeanor. You’ve only met him recently but he's already perfected the way to get your feathers ruffled and rile you up. 
“Yeah, well I'm going to buy the game and practice on my own. Just wait, you’ll be in last place soon.” You had the gaming console, but never this game. It wouldn’t be too steep of an investment. 
Tomura hums, pondering a moment before responding, “You could always just come over and practice. No need to waste the money when I have it.”
His words make you pause, slowly realizing where you are and who you're with. Some guy you met at the arcade — in his home, in his room, playing video games. How did that happen so fast? Your parents would kill you.
“I guess.” You look around, suddenly wanting to find anything else to focus on that isn’t the man beside you. Now that you think about it, you’ve never really been alone with another guy before. Especially not in his room. Sure, you had all kinds of male friends, but never any this close. It made you… nervous. And warm. 
Very warm. Something that spread from the pits of your abdomen and crawled its way back up into your cheeks. 
You hoped Tomura wouldn't notice your blush and searched your brain for any way to get out of this situation. 
But then he was speaking again and god, was his voice always this low?
“Do you want to go another round?”
“Huh?” You stammer, looking over and it was a mistake because you were forced to notice how close you two were sitting, on his bed of all places. You shake the thoughts from your head, “y-yeah, we should play another round.”
You reach for the controller and Tomura stops you, grabbing your chin, forcing you to look him in the eyes. 
“Hey, what's your problem?” Blunt. Rude. Fucking cute. 
It's settled. You hate this man. 
His brows furrowed as he moved closer, examining your face as if he could peer into your mind with his eyes alone. It made you want to shrink away, but that would only make his observation worse.
“Are you... getting nervous?” Your eyes widen at the words and you pull away completely, shaking your head, 
“No! Of course not.” You cross your arms in a huff and absently wonder if you could take your leave now. 
“You are,” he decides, a slow grin creeping across his face, “Why?” 
You're sure the ground will open up and swallow you whole if you just wish hard enough for it. Maybe then Tomura would back up out of your personal space and shut up.
“I'm not nervous.” You bluff, praying he won’t see through you. 
“I know why.” 
You brace yourself for mortification. 
“It’s because you know you’re going to lose.” 
He has that smug smile on his face and it hits you. 
He has no idea. Tomura doesn’t get it — he thinks you’re upset about the game and not the fact that you can smell the citrus of his shampoo and see the flecks of black in his red eyes. 
God, maybe he’s an idiot. 
You want to kiss him. 
“Don’t be nervous,” he assures, giving you a little smile and grabbing the controller again, “I’ll walk you through it.”
There was something about Tomura’s choice of words that made you think maybe, just maybe, he had a little more of an idea about your mood than he let on. You press your thighs together, praying it was subtle, and mentally push away the arousal you began to feel at his low tone of voice. 
“Sure.”
The next round you both play goes the same as the others. Tomura winning and you barely breaking the top ten. Your frustration was becoming palpable as it no longer was fun to see your character cry at the end of the match. 
“We don't have to play anymore.” You look over at Tomura’s words and he’s stretching, eyes closing at the movement. You can't help but notice the sliver of his exposed abdomen as he reaches up. 
You get a glimpse of his lithe figure and feel your mind begin to wonder what the rest looks like, but cut your thoughts short as he adjusts and meets your eyes again.  
You should get out of here before you embarrass yourself.
“Where are you going?” Tomura questioned, the minute you stood to leave.
“Um, home? It’s getting late.”
“Not that late. C’mon, it’s a Saturday. You have somewhere to be or something?” He’s getting up and you can only assume it's to get another game. You are correct because he turns to show you the case and it’s of a white goose. “This game is more fun.”
You look at the time on your phone and shrug. He's right, it's not that late — there should be no harm in staying a little longer.
So you do.
And it’s worth it as you both watch two geese in the game with excellent teamwork terrorize a farmer.
“Okay, you distract him and I’ll take his hat.” You were on a mission and Tomura indulged you, making his goose honk while yours swooped in, effectively stealing the hat and allowing you both to progress to the next level.
“Hah! I knew that would work.” You feel elated as you watch the geese move on, waddling across the screen and into the next area, “And you’re not so bad yourself, for a goose.” 
Tomura huffs a laugh, shallow and light before turning to you, “I carried you that round, but okay.”
You haven't known each other long, but he already knows his way around getting you riled up. 
The comment makes you turn so that you are better positioned on his bed, one leg still hanging off the end of it while trying not to puff your cheeks. You would be fighting a losing battle if he saw how riled up you were.
“Hey, I’m the one who told you where the picnic blanket was!”
“Okay? And who brought everything to the blanket?” he leaned forward, invading your space and challenging.
You didn’t back down, both of you so close, almost nose to nose. “You. but only after I found everything.”
The distance between the two of you was slim, and the air was heated, his crimson eyes looked down at you with that smug smirk on his lips and you wanted to bite him.
Or kiss him.
Whichever came first. 
Tomura followed your line of sight and it only made his smug expression worse, if that were even possible — yet neither of you backed away. His lips parted like he was on the edge of saying something, but was cut off by the peppy chime of your phone’s ringtone. 
That seemed to dissipate some of the tension between you two as it caused you to back away and scramble to find your phone on his bed. 
Once you’ve gotten it and answered, there’s the familiar voice of your mother on the other end, worrying about where you are and questioning when you would be home, standard practice for her. After many reassuring yeses and “i’ll be there soon”’s you are finally free of the call, now knowing that you have to wrap this up and head out. 
“Who was that?” Tomura questioned and his voice seems loud in the quiet of the room. 
You turn back to him and his eyes are waiting, expecting. He’s not doing anything but looking at you and it still feels like he can see all of you, as if you’re naked and bare, exposed completely. 
“My mom.” You can’t help the small shrug of your shoulders, feeling a little embarrassed at how uncool it could look to have your parents keep tabs on you all the time.
“Aww,” Tomura coos, and it's said more like an afterthought, something to fill the air as he leaned forward — finally, finally closing the distance between you both and kissing your lips. 
It shocks you as you feel the soft cotton his duvet hit your back, Tomura’s lips still pressed to yours as he pushed you down. They were rough but so warm, just like the rest of him, and your hand seeks his hair, finally indulging in the urge you’ve had to touch it since you’ve met him. 
He groans when you give it a tug and you whimper when he bites your lip a little too hard. It drives you crazy and Tomura wastes no time in deepening the kiss, his tongue swiping over yours as his hands slide up your shirt. You let out a gasp  when he cups your breast, taking a sensitive nub between his forefinger and thumb. The feeling has you mewling into his mouth and arousal soaking your panties. 
It doesn’t take much to get you riled up, especially since the furthest you’ve ever gone with a guy is a kiss here and there. 
Tomura crowds your senses as he hovers over you, caging you below him as he sits between your spread legs. Your heart races as you keep your eyes squeezed shut, you don’t know how far you’re going to go, but you definitely did not think you would be losing your virginity today. 
He pulls away, lifting his shirt up and over his head, tossing it somewhere on the floor of the room. You waste no time taking in the new sight of his exposed chest, desperate to reach your hands out to touch. 
But Tomura was back down again before you had a chance to, his mouth making its way down your jaw and neck leaving kisses and licks in its wake. It’s sensitive, especially when Tomura sucks right on a particular spot on your neck, making you cry out. 
“D-don’t leave a mark.” You stutter, words nearly lost to the pleasure. 
“Why not?” The warmth of his tongue licking the area he’d just sucked on was making you shiver. 
Your hands were gripping his shoulder, desperate for any kind of grounding. “Because my parents. They would k-kill me.”
Tomura hums, seeming to take your concern into consideration before pulling away. You’re worried you’ve blown it and ruined the mood, but he just tugs at your shirt. 
“Get this off.” 
You can feel the heat on your face, from the kissing, but now you feel it burn more as you gaze at the man above you. The words make you stall, process what's going on — what you should do. 
No one’s seen you without a shirt, especially not in this situation, but honestly? Who cares. You’re an adult, you can and will make your own choices. 
There’s no one else in this room but you and Tomura, so when you sit up to remove your shirt and bra, catching Tomura’s eyes scan your newly exposed body, you can’t help but smile at the chill of excitement that dances down your spine. 
It makes your heart flutter so you pull him back into a kiss and back down onto the bed, fisting your hands in his ashen locks again and savoring the groans he made. 
Tomura makes his way down again, taking your right breast into his mouth and tweaking the nipple of your other with his free hand. The sensations are overwhelming and you moan, arching your back and trying with all you had to pull Tomura closer. 
He obliged by lowering his hips and grinding down against you, the press of his erection against your clothed cunt drives you wild. Tomura comes back up, claiming your mouth again and he is demanding as he deepens the kiss, giving you everything you wanted and more. 
You wanted to take it further, needed to take it further, but you weren’t sure how to progress from making out. Telling Tomura you were a virgin would probably make things awkward and you were going to lose it if everything ended here.
Tomura pulls away to look at you, flushed and red while you ponder what to do with your hand placement. You decide to wrap them around Tomura’s neck, pulling him close enough that he rests his forehead on yours. 
Your breaths intertwine as you both stare at each other in a daze. 
“What?” He asks first, breathless and curious. 
You cut your eyes to the side, hoping your scoff came off as unconcerned instead of wildly nervous, “Nothing! Nothing..”
Your tone is not lost on Tomura as he narrows his eyes, gears turning in his head and piercing gaze seemingly looking through you and into your deepest thoughts. “Why are you being shy like a virgin?”
The way you purse your lips gives you away and you do everything to avoid his gaze, which is hard when you’re both so close to each other. 
“Oh my god, you are.” There’s a whimsy excitement in his voice and suddenly, embarrassment is creeping its way back into your mind, “why didn’t you say so?” 
You look up as Tomura pulls back, his smile open wide on his face, ill hidden elation buzzing in his words. 
There’s your innate need to defend yourself and your honor rising up again and you can’t stop yourself. So what if you’re a blushing virgin. “Yeah, so? Aren’t you?” 
His shoulders give a small shrug, “Maybe.” 
Then he’s down again, lips next to your ear as his hands trailed down your waist, leaning goosebumps in their wake. 
“Have you ever made yourself cum before?” He asks and you can feel his smile against your ear.
Embarrassment has officially taken the forefront of your mind as you weakly shake your head no, “I’ve tried, but when I get close the feeling goes away.” Might as well be honest since it can’t get more vulnerable than this.
Tomura hums, one hand reaching to take your hand in his, “I could show you how, if you want.”
You feel his hand drag yours lower, down your body and to the hem of your pants and stop, waiting for a response. It feels like your nerves are in overdrive and you writhe below him in anticipation, nodding your head, “P-please.”
Tomura pulls away, taking his warmth with him as he reaches down to unbutton your pants, removing them and leaving your panties. 
“You’re soaked.” He muses, causing you to whine in anticipation. “Show me how you do it.”
And you do, slipping your hand under your panties and biting back a moan as your middle finger rubbed circles on your clit. You were dripping wet so your fingers glide easily and the feeling makes your eyes close. 
It's a song and dance you are familiar with in the heated nights of your bedroom. Trying and failing to make yourself cum because you’ve read about it, it’s supposed to feel good, but you just can't get there. 
Tomura watches on, absently palming his erection and watching you touch yourself. As much as he wanted to reach down and help you out, there was something about seeing you whine and writhe in his bed that made his brain wild. 
You were getting close and you knew because there was that familiar sensation of heat pooling in your lower belly, it was a pressure that got more and more intense as you chased after it, but every time, your hands would get tired and you would lose it. And with the momentum gone, you lose the orgasm. 
Your furrowed brows went from aroused to frustrated within the span of a second as, once again you’ve unintentionally denied yourself release. 
“Fuck,” Tomura breaths, hand now fully in his sweat pants as his breathing picks up, “you were close.”
“I know!” You whine, unsure what to do now, but Tomura has a few things in mind. He pulls his hand from his pants, not wanting to ruin his own orgasm and hooks his fingers on both sides of your panties, pulling them down and tossing them to the side. 
You were fully exposed and the only thing keeping you from pressing your thighs together and holding your dignity close was Tomura between them. 
You wish he wouldn’t look so much, but he does, drinking up the sight of your exposed cunt and licking his lips. You’re about to call him out of it before he dips back down, capturing your lips in his and it distracts you. 
It distracts you so well that the press of his thumb over your slick nub makes you cry out, the pleasure sudden and better than you imagined. Tomura devours your moans, rubbing slow circles onto your clit and easily picking up where you left off. Your hands find purchase on his back and your toes curl at the sensation. 
He had just started, but it was just right and you couldn’t stop yourself from arching your back, desperate for more and overwhelmed by the stimulation. 
“T-tomu..” You moan as you feel the horizon of warmth again and bury your face into his neck.
“Yeah,” his lips are by your ear again and you close your eyes, fully focusing on the feeling of his thumb working your clit and his low voice in your ear, “Just let go for me.”
And it all hits you, pussy pulsing in pleasure as you come undone, your cries muffled by your face in his shoulder. It feels like the end of a long marathon as the bliss spreads through your body like a warm blanket. 
You could only lie there as Tomura pulled away, kissing your sternum and all the way down until he was at eye level with your cunt. The action confuses you because he had just made you cum so why was he..? 
“What are you doing?” You ask, confusion muting the buzz in your head. 
His eyes meet yours, mischievous glint in them sending the butterflies in your stomach wild. “We’re not done yet.” 
And before you could question the man further he dips down, warm and wet tongue meeting your slit and diving into your slick entrance. The action makes you jolt, keening at the sensation and thighs reflexively closing against Tomura’s head. This action only spurred him on further as he lapped and dipped his deceptively long tongue in and out of your wet entrance, sticky slick walls clamping down on him as he sloppily ate you out. 
He was relentless as he drove your pleasure up the wall — blowing your previous orgasm out of the water with this new sensation. 
“Fuck, tomu — fuck its..!” You can’t form a coherent sentence because the pleasure was only building and building, giving your brain no time to catch up with your words. Your hands immediately found purchase in his hair, the soft ashen locks grounding you as he continued his actions, unbothered by your tight grip. 
Tomura decided to move up, licking his way from your hole to your clit, the overstimulated bud was next on tomura’s list as he lapped and kissed your bundle of nerves. 
The actions make you cry out, mind muddled as your body tries to figure out if you want to be closer or further away from the sensations. You don't have much time to reach a conclusion either as Tomura sucks your clit and your second orgasm of the night quickly builds up and spills over, making your back arch from the bed and your legs shake in pleasure. 
It feels like your mind is completely blank as tomura gives your cunt a final lap and your clit one last kiss before returning to meet your eyes again. 
You were face to face now and watching him grin down at you, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had made a deal with the devil himself as your mind swam in the pleasure radiating throughout your body. It all felt surreal, and your eyes naturally closed, enjoying the feeling of your second climax. 
“Aw, don’t tap out on me now, I haven’t even given you the final boss yet,” you hear Tomura coo, finally moving to remove his sweatpants and boxers and oh— 
You watch his cock bob between his legs and panic internally as you wonder how the hell that would fit inside of you. 
It’s like Tomura could read your mind, because his laugh brings you back to the present, “don't worry about it, promise it’ll fit.” 
You don't know if you should trust him on that, but you do — mentally preparing yourself as Tomura leans over you and into the drawer of his bedside nightstand. He pulls out a square foiled packet and it’s in that moment you realize – no, he was not a virgin and only humoring you. 
You don't have much time to dwell on it though because in no time he has the condom on and is lining himself up with your entrance. 
The nerves are making themselves known as the reality of your situation starts to set in. The thoughts don’t flood your mind for long because Tomura takes your chin in his hand, demanding your undivided attention as he slowly pressed into your cunt. 
The pressure of the stretch makes you whimper and your eyes reflexively close, but he was only getting started. It was the somewhat soothing feeling of Tomura’s thumb stroking your cheek that kept you grounded and able to withstand more of the stretch. 
Little by little, Tomura pushed on, guiding you with his words and reassuring you that it wouldn’t hurt for long. He was right up against your ear, the familiar smell of his shampoo bringing you comfort as your bodies intertwined. 
“That it,” he guided, voice low and hips still as he bottomed out. You felt so full. It was a sensation you’ve never imagined and could only whine as tomura started to pull back. “I’m gonna move now.” 
Even though the pain was there in the initial thrusts, there was also the feeling of dull pleasure, slowly growing and growing until the previous pain had all but gone away and now you were floating in ecstasy as Tomura’s thrusts began to speed up.
You gripped at his forearms as he gained momentum, hips rocking into yours and making you moan.
“You like that?” he husked, lips brushing your throat as his hips snapped forward and hit a particularly sensitive spot inside. 
“F-fuck, again, do that again,” you cry and Tomura focuses his attention right where you want him to. The feeling is euphoric as you feel a different kind of coil tightening in your lower abdomen. A feeling that makes your toes curl and your thighs tense and it's hit again and again. 
Tomura lets out a low groan, his own pace becoming unsteady as time went on. “You’re so tight..” he murmured, reveling in the feeling of your slick walls clamping down on him, “‘s like you’re sucking me in.” 
You’re nearing the end again, you can feel it, but you don't want to be. This all felt so good. “Tomu, I-I’m—”
Tomura cuts you off, pulling away to look you in the eyes, his ruby red gaze was hypnotizing. “Just let go, I’ve got you.” 
And you do, that’s all it takes for you to tip over — mind rushing in bliss as your heart fluttered at his words. 
You felt this orgasm deep in your bones, the overwhelming feeling of clarity and contentment settling within you as you were now along for the ride, enjoying Tomura’s increasing erratic pace while he chased his own orgasm. 
“Oh, fuck—” he pants, following behind you with his own climax. His eyes were squeezed shut as he rode it out, slowing to a stop and dropping his head onto your shoulder. 
The heavy breaths between you were the only sounds in the room as you stare at his ceiling — noticing the faded out green stars above. So faint you were sure they had been placed there years and years ago. It brings a warmth to your chest, something new among your many new feelings you’ve felt today. 
“Next weekend,” Tomura starts, still sounding a bit winded as he pulls out — and you wince at the soreness, the pain not really something you were prepared for — and lays next to you, “Next weekend we’ll rematch in Mario kart. I’ll help you get better.”
You smile, the buzzing excitement making you flush, “Okay, let’s do it.”
The next morning is one that leaves you with a forming pit in your belly. It is a Sunday morning, and Sundays are the day’s your family loves to enjoy a homemade breakfast and sit together at the table like a loving family. 
And they were loving! Loving and observant.
You felt as if your parents knew. Like they knew where you had been yesterday — somehow seeing through your foolproof lie of hanging out with an old school friend, but things were quiet. 
Everything on this Sunday morning had been proceeding as normal. Your parents were sitting across from you, none the wiser and laughing about a show they watched last night while you were out. 
It did not feel real. It felt like there was something you were missing, as if they were omnipotent and knew your every move. Knew that you were no longer their shining star child, that you had been up to things that were everything but innocent. 
You feel the same, physically. Maybe a little sore from how rough Tomura had gotten, but other than that, normal.
“Sweetheart,” your father’s voice calls you, cutting through your paranoia, “could you pass me the syrup, please.”
And you do, maybe with too much haste, but he does not comment on it. Instead he just pours the sugary liquid onto his pancakes and continues. “So your mother and I were thinking,”
Oh, god. They knew.
“We know you’re taking a semester off, but if you aren't happy with that college, we could look into other’s for you.”
Your shoulders relax. It’s just college talk, again. That was talk you could handle. 
“Um, yeah. That’s okay with me. I could always use more options.”
Your father smiles, “That’s our girl. Always so flexible with her options. We know it takes a lot of strength to take a break, but you did. We’re so proud of you.” 
The smile that graces your face is pitiful and filled with guilt that you prayed was not obvious. They really saw the best in you, no matter how suffocating they were. so it’s only right you follow the path that they lay out for you. 
“Our girl could never do any wrong,” your mother chimes in, chipper and full of admiration, “you’re just so smart.”
You only nod, now trying to tune them out as they go back and forth, discussing possible college they believed would be best for you. 
It really makes you wonder just how far that love and pride stretched when their angel of a daughter strays against what they expect of you.
—-------------------------
And not even six months later that same love and adoration is tested, put on the line and shown bare as your enraged parents look down at you. 
The same parents who doted on you about how much you made them smile. You who had made them so proud and apparently brought them so much joy. 
It’s suffocating as you sit right back on the very same couch where it all started, listening to a lecture from your mother about the woes and pains of having such a disobedient unruly child. 
Even though you’re an adult. 
Even though you can make your own decisions about your life. 
It’s maddening having to listen to your once so meek and complacent mother go on and on about how she would have never snuck around with some boy she’s only known for a few months. How she would never lie to her parents about her whereabouts and how it’s just unheard of that you would turn your location off. 
You shake your head, they wouldn’t understand. Your father wouldn’t even look at you. “Mom, please..” you start, wanting to offer anything to break up the nonstop lecture. 
“I just don’t understand!” Her voice is so high it’s nearly a yell, and your mother makes it a point to never yell. “He’s just a man! Why would you put yourself and your future at risk for some guy?”
“He’s not just some guy.” You mumble and curse yourself for trying, they would never see it your way. 
There is a buzz from the phone in your pocket and you habitually grab for it, pulling it from its place and you are not given a chance to check the notification before your mother snatches the device from your hand. 
“And no phone! This damn phone is the root of all your problems in the first place.”
Disbelief mars your features as the constant drilling catches up with you. “You can’t do that!”
She only folds her arms across her chest, head tilted in challenge, “I can’t? Watch me. You’re lucky we haven’t put you on the street yet with how irresponsible you’ve been.” 
It’s hard to understand what’s so irresponsible about taking birth control and practicing being safe. But you knew it was deeper than that. It was deeper than the boy and it was more than sex. 
They hated the lack of control they had over you and how it waned with every passing day.
“So, what, was this guy supposed to be the love of your life? Someone you would just run away with and expect to support you?”
Your mother’s voice grates on your ears and you just wish for this conversation to be over, you want this entire thing to be over and done with. “I don’t know. Maybe.” The defeat is evident in your voice and you shrug. “Can I go now?” 
They are beating a dead horse at this point and you’re over it. 
To your surprise, no one stops you as you rise, allowing you to take your leave before the tears clouding your vision could fall. 
The defeat you feel is deep and you can’t even muster the energy to slam your door shut, opting for a quieter close. The fragile click of your door was so soft and it felt as if you were made of glass. To slam the door would only make you shatter into a million pieces onto your bedroom floor. 
How foolish of you to think there could ever be a world where you had autonomy in a house filled with hawks. 
Your bed greets you with its cozy warmth and you allow yourself to fall apart there, letting out all of your despair and frustration into your pillow and leaving the pieces of your soul to be picked up in the morning. 
It’s been a week. 
A long, boring, drawn-out week. 
You are without your phone, without wifi and without your parents car — so you couldn’t go anywhere if you tried. 
It’s been a long week of nothing, not even from Tomura. You assume he can put two and two together and figure out something has gone wrong. The thought brings you a little peace, but not for long. 
You barely leave your room and barely say two words to your parents. The isolation is… lonely. 
Even if you went out to the living room to watch television, you run the risk of running into one of your parents — and you can really do without another lecture. The only thing on your mind this past week has been Tomura. What was he doing? Did he pick up on your silence? Last time he showed up at your house, but that’s not happening this time around. 
You sit up from your bed, realizing that sitting around rotting away would drive you mad, and look to your window. The sun was setting and dusting the rest of the world in pretty orange and pink hues. It would be nightfall soon, and you don't think you could spend another night in this room, alone. 
So, against all better judgment, you open your window, look back to listen for any suspicious footsteps — the lack thereof giving you the greenlight — and climb out of your window, stumbling on to the ground as you try to regain your footing from the drop.
You weren't sure where your feet were taking you, but you didn't care, the feeling of fresh air against your cheeks was all you really needed for a clear head.
Your feet lead you to the mall, the start of all your problems and the beginning of your independence. 
It felt strange, seeing all kinds of happy faces throughout the mall. Blissfully unaware of their freedoms and enjoying their night. The jarring feeling pushes your feet to the familiar route, flashing colors and blaring music of the arcade greeting you. 
It’s comforting, in a way. But you didn’t bring any money. You didn't bring anything but what you were wearing so you could only look around, watching friends and couples alike laugh together. 
There's an area near the back of the arcade with tall barstools and empty tables. You decide to take a seat there and sulk on your own. At least you were no longer trapped in your room, forced to watch your four walls while the days passed you by.
You were in a daze, tracing the brown lines on the wooden table with your eyes, until someone interrupted you by sitting right next to you. You turn to face the culprit, less than friendly words on your tongue and ready to let whoever have a piece of your mind. 
But you stop in your tracks as ruby red eyes look down at you. 
Tomura. 
He was here, next to you and your heart fluttered at the realization. 
“What’s your problem?” He joked, rasp in his voice comforting to your ears. 
You don’t stop yourself from pulling him into a hug, his black hoodie soft and familiar. “How did you know I was here?” You mumble into the fabric and miraculously Tomura understands you.
“I didn’t.” The admission causes you to pull back, looking up at him through your long lashes. “None of my calls or texts went through, and I tried to stop by but your dad was suspiciously outside.” He brings a hand to your head, brushing your hair back and giving you a small smile. “I still like coming here, so I did. Something to pass the time. Ironically, I saw you walk by. 
You hum, fighting the pout that wanted to make its way onto your face. “They took my phone. They took everything, even the birth control pills. I can’t keep living like this, Tomura.”
“I know.” He responds, soothing your nerves even with his presence. “I can get you another phone.”
The suggestion only makes you shake your head, it doesn’t tackle the real underlying issue. 
“It doesn’t matter. It’s only a matter of time before they find that too. We’ve seen that they aren’t above going through my things. It’s hell. I can’t do it anymore.”
This seems to make Tomura ponder, taking your words in and running them through his mind for a solution. His expression is fixed when he looks back at you. 
“Then don’t.”
“What?” 
“Don’t go back home.” He elaborates, “Come stay with me. My place is big enough, it shouldn’t matter.”
You are shaking your head before you realize, pulling away from him with a stern look. “No, no I can't do that. I can’t impose on you like that.”
Tomura gives you a halfhearted glare. “It’s not imposing if I'm offering. They’re assholes, and I'm usually home alone anyway. Well, besides Kurogiri.” He leans in, pressing his forehead to yours, “C’mon, just go home tonight, pack a bag and then meet me here tomorrow. Can you do that?” 
There was no other option you would want more so you nod, giving a short okay as Tomura presses his lips to yours. 
It's set — by this time tomorrow you will be free.
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beepbeepdespair · 11 months ago
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thank you for the tag <3 this is gonna be difficult lmao
1. i like my hair, both the colour and the waves that suddenly showed up a while ago and never left lmao
2. i like my height, people seem to think it's pretty cool so that's nice
3. i like my taste in music, been complimented on it lately and i love that <33333
4. i like my eyelashes, they're huge which can get in the way sometimes but i enjoy batting them cutely
5. aaaaand i like my creativeness. particularly songwriting and scrapbooking :)
tagging @stealerofthe2ndbraincell no pressure tho
Once you get this, you have to say five things you like about yourself, publicly. Then you have to send this to ten of your favourite followers (non-negotiable, positivity is cool~) 🌈🌈
Awe ty
1. I like how math isn’t hard for me like at all. I’m 2 years ahead than the rest of my age group
2. I like being able to draw and make up silly little characters and then discovering them years later
3. I like my eye color lol
4. I like that my friends are open with me so ig I’m trustworthy lol
5. I like that I know my limits ig
:3
@sparrow-the-tired-lesbian @hopeless-gay-shipper @kaylinalexanderbooks @flintoaster @samsayswhatever @t00obsessed @kylacxie @flowersbian @theplasticwalmartbag2 @ooooooh
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beepbeepdespair · 2 years ago
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btw sorry if i mispelt anything in the previous ask, i did not reread it before i sent it (just like im doing to this ask)
do not worry my friend, misspellings are the spice of life. the more wrong they are, the better. and also i think you spelt everything right lmao
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thefreakandthehair · 6 months ago
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unplug it (please)
written for ‘plug’ | wc: 437 | rated: m | tags: hospital setting, post-canon fix-it, mutual pining, love confession, requited feelings, fluff, humor, confident steve harrington, eddie munson has a crush on steve harrington (and the machines he’s hooked up to blow his secret) @steddiemicrofic
When Eddie woke up a week after becoming demobat bait, he thought the worst was behind him.
He thought wrong.
It was easy enough early in his recovery to pass his rapid pulse off as a reaction to, well, everything, but that excuse didn't work anymore. At least not on Steve, who happens to be the reason for his humiliating problem.
Like clockwork, Steve entered Eddie’s room with a warm smile.
“Back already?” Eddie asked.
“Not getting rid of me that easy,” Steve teased and plopped down into the hard chair with nothing but a skinny blue cushion for comfort.
I could do better than that chair, he thought. I’d give Steve a great place to sit.
Bee-beep. Bee-bee-beep. Beep.
If he was able to bend down, he’d unplug the fucking machine. It’s embarrassing.
“Your heart’s still doing that? I told Laura!”
Laura’s the worst, but Eddie can’t jeopardize someone else's job just because he’s a coward. Maybe that’s why he said what he said next.
“It's because of you,” he muttered, realizing belatedly how that sounded when he saw Steve’s smile fall.
“Not like that! Fuck. Steve, I’m a weak man and you’re… you. You threatened to have your mom pull her funding from the hospital if they didn’t really try to save me. You carried me out of Mordor! How was I supposed to not fall in love with you after that? I hate that monitor, blowing all of my secrets.”
Eddie’s confession hung heavy in the silence, broken only by the erratic beeping of the monitor, as Steve sat forward with his elbows on his knees. He cleared his throat, and scratched the tip of his nose.
“Did I hear that right?”
“Yep.” Eddie could lie. He could walk it all back, but he didn’t want to be a runner anymore.
“Great, so do you wanna wait until you get out of here for a first date, or should I bring the first date to you?” Steve muses. “I think Laura might give me shit for trying to light a candle in here with the sprinklers.”
“Are you serious?”
“You think you’re the only weak man in this room? You bled through my jacket and I had to wash your blood off my shoulders.” Steve shrugged, one corner of lips just barely upturned. “I almost lost you. I’m not taking that chance again.”
“When you put it like that, I don’t wanna wait.”
“Good."
Eddie’s heart monitor skipped beats, racing as Steve leaned closer, his lips just barely touching his cheek in a soft, innocent kiss.
"Get ready to be wined and dined, Munson.”
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calumfmu · 7 months ago
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all in your head, but I want nonfiction.
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You knew who you married to at this point, you really couldn't be mad at him for handling his affairs overseas. He was responsible for everything and more you could've wanted. Everything except his time.
You were the woman of the house, responsible for the affairs over here. And the tattooed man lingering in the yard was the perfect thing to start with.
or; Steddie x reader. (business man!Steve, worker!Eddie, stay at home wife!reader) cw: 18+, mdni, pure smut, unprotected sex, p in v, oral (female and male receiving), fingering, back shots (yes pls), creampie, nipple sucking, threesome, mutual masturbation, slight hair pulling kink, use of the nickname Stevie, brief mentions of alcoholism and drug abuse, (7.7k+ words of pure smut)
It was three months this time, he had been gone. Six total, if you didn't count the two weeks that he was home in between trips. You were really starting to miss your husband, craving his presence, beginning to feel the emptiness of the house you were in.
"Greece is good this time of year," Steve commented, face blurred on the FaceTime call. You hummed, swirling the glass of Cabernet in your hand.
"Yeah, I wouldn't know," you teased, smacking your tongue against your teeth. A quirk of his eyebrow thrown in your direction, the screen lagging slightly as his mouth moved before the words could come out. You often did this, poked fun at the situation, but as of late, the truth has started to leak through the cracks of your words.
"Babe, you know I have to-"
And in that second, the call ended in three abrupt beeps, 'Called Failed' appearing in his place. With a sigh, you threw your phone aside, used to this type of instance occurring. As much money as your husband made, you could barely get the time to speak to him during this time of the year, his service always being the worst or calls being rushed or interruptions always happening.
You knew who you married at this point, you really couldn't be mad at him for handling his affairs overseas. He was responsible for the roof of the mansion over your head, making you a stay at home wife, supplying you with everything you could ever want without even having to voice that. Everything except his time. In the mean time, you’ve buried your time with drinking, book clubs on top of book clubs, expensive dinners alone, and loads of ogling at the men in town you could look at, but not touch.
Seeing your husband, touching your husband only a total of three times in the past half year was an aching feeling, loneliness creeping in at the worst times of the day. Time passed so slowly, it was hard to imagine even seeing him again some days.
You started at the window, gripping the wine glass at your hand as you reached for the decanter perched on the window sill. The sound of the alcohol pouring into the glass filled the room, your wandering eyes searching through the yard for anything to entertain you.
Bingo.
A tall man, curly hair long and pulled back into a bun. Short sleeved, white shirt tight against his frame as he paraded through the grass, boots stopping every now and then as he glanced at the plants in the garden. Your brow furrowed as the confusion set in, wondering who this man was in your yard and yet so interested in learning who he is.
You tapped on the window loudly, knuckles rapping against the pane of the glass as you tried getting his attention.
“Hey!” You called, waving your arm in the air in between knocks.
The man in your yard heard something, his own face turning up as he looked around himself. His eyes searched the grass area before glancing up, settling on your figure displayed through the glass.
“What are you doing?” You shouted, aware that there wasn’t a chance he heard what you were saying. To confirm your suspicions, his hand rose to shield his eyes, the sun glaring down at him as he stared up at you.
He mouthed something, shrugging his shoulders as the two of you held eye contact.
“What are you-” You cut yourself off with a huff, turning on one heel to march downstairs, intent on swearing up a storm, telling him to get off of your property before your husband has something to say about it. And even if the likelihood of getting said husband even on the phone was low, this stranger truly didn’t have to know.
The silk robe you wore flowed in the air as you made yourself way down the stairs, one hand still gripping your wine glass, the other pinching it closed, lounge wear not exactly appropriate for the interaction you were about to have. The four minutes it took you to trek through the house and out the door had you praying he had disappeared, become a figment of your imagination by now.
Double doors swinging open, you stepped out onto the porch, your own hand raising above your eyebrows to block out the UV rays.
To your luck (or despair), he was still there, crouched down as he looked at the array of sprinkler systems.
“What are you doing?” You accused, stepping out further of the house as he shot up in your direction. Surprise was written all over his face, deep lines appearing on his forehead.
“Hi, ma’am, I’m—”
“You have about three seconds to get off of my property,” you tightened the robe around your chest, noticing the way his eyes dipped to explore the expanse of your chest shown.
“Ma’am, I’m—”
“My husband’s going to be home any moment,” A lie. And you both knew it by the way his eyes squinted a little. You doubled down. The wine was starting to take effect. “And he’ll have you arrested. We know the chief.”
An amused smirk passed on his face, smugness oozing from his features. He waited a beat, eyes twinkling with humor.
“Are you finished?”
Your mouth dropped open, shock written all your face. The mocking, you definitely weren’t used to it. You hated to lean into the spoiled stay at home wife trope, but you were used to people folding at you, kissing your ass based on the family that you happened to marry into.
“Excuse m—”
“I’m friends with Steve,” he spit out, smiling even wider at the wide eyes you gave him. “Eddie. Pleasure to meet your acquaintance.”
His hand shot out to shake yours, dropping slowly as you just stared down at it. You could drop the act now, realizing that this man had to have been telling the truth. You hadn’t heard anyone call your husband by his first name in years, ‘Harrington’ being the only calling card.
You took a sip of the dark alcohol in your grasp, glancing away from him as you rested a hand on your hip. His eyes chose to linger over your body, cleavage exposed through your lounge wear. Huffing, you pulled the cover up closed once more, warmth tinging your cheeks.
“And your business here is? If you knew Steve, you would know he doesn’t just invite friends over.”
“Oh, uhm,” Eddie took a step closer to you, standing side to side as he began to point over the yard. You suddenly noticed the clipboard and phone in his other hand. “I’m the new groundsman, taking over the landscaping, plans for the new yard, the whole lot.”
Ah. That did sound somewhat familiar, mentioned somewhere between the bottles of Dom Perignon you and your best friend shared the other week over a FaceTime call with Steve.
He turned towards you again, his eyes wandering for the thousandth time. You couldn’t tell if the heat was making your robe slip a little looser or if the wine was truly getting to you.
“You must be the wife,” Eddie smiled, toothy grin settling over his face as he held eye contact. In the length of this interaction, the sun has began to dip lower in the sky. You got a good look at him, not seeing any obvious similarities on how he would be friends with your husband, in any universe. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Define a lot,” another sip of your wine down the hatch. The double pour was nearly gone by now.
“Woman of the house.” He took a step closer to you, pushing the clipboard down in front of him. “Takes care of things for Stevie over here.” The tone of his voice shifted. “Could get terribly lonely sometimes.”
The concept of looking and not touching was getting a little harder for you. Gasping, you turned towards the house, downing the last of your beverage.
“I’m going to get more.”
You took a few steps towards the house before briefly turning your body to him. He was watching your movements, head tilted to the side slightly as he stared down at the sway of your hips.
“Are you coming or not?”
He was quick on his feet, tracking you on your heels as the two of you made your way up the grand entrance. The coolness of the house, covered in marble and white instantly taming the heat taking over your body. Eddie let out a low whistle, his neck craning up to stare at the high ceilings, chandelier hanging above the entry way. Everything about the place was pristine and huge, money screaming even the gloss of paint covering from the walls.
The sound of his boots were loud following your bare feet, making his way into the kitchen behind you.
“Nice one, Steve,” Eddie laughed to himself, shaking his head. You went over to the wine rack on one end of the kitchen, ripping off a bottle without even glancing at the label. Another crystal glass followed, you placing it in front of the man before you.
His finger was running along the marble countertops, his eyes wide as he studied the detail. Just as you went to pour a glass for him, his hand shot out.
“Oh no, hun. I can’t do wine,” he rushed, a smile on his face. You ignored the nickname, hand paused as the bottle was tilted in the air. Staring up at him, your face was emotionless.
“Sober?”
He opened his mouth to speak, cutting himself off with a laugh. “Not exactly. Just makes me… a little reckless,” he finished, placing the clipboard down on the counter.
A smirk of your own crossed your lips before you poured the glass anyways, sliding it over to him once a hefty serving was in front of you. He shook his head as he reached for it despite his own words, swallowing down a gulp.
The two of you stood in silence, devious looks in your eyes. You let your eyes wander over him, taking in the white shirt he wore, how it hugged him just right. It felt wrong, thinking of your husband’s friend like this. It had been so long since any type of male interaction, you couldn’t help but feel tempted.
“Babe?”
You jumped where you stood, your topped off glass fumbling in your fingertips. Your best friend appearing around the corner, her loafers sounding out through the corridors.
“Robin, Jesus Christ—”
She stopped just as she rounded the corner, eyes darting in between the two of you. The look she gave you made you speechless, her all knowing eyes saying everything she needed to.
“And you are…?”
Eddie put down his glass, a glance thrown in your direction once more before he took a few steps towards Robin. She squared up her shoulders, amusement on her face.
“Leaving,” he smiled, passing her. You and the other girl in the room watched him making his way over to the main corridor. He turned to you one last time before disappearing. “Mrs. Harrington, it was a pleasure, hun.”
He disappeared, a wink thrown in your direction. Your breath caught in your throat at his last move, shaky hands bringing the glass of alcohol to your lips.
“Hun??” Robin questioned once the front door slammed behind him. She came to your side, eyebrows raised behind her wispy bangs. “Hun!”
Rolling your eyes, you pushed the fingers away from you as she pulled on the hem of your robe.
“Rob—please.”
“Uh uh, babe. We’re going to talk about this,” she laughed, taking the glass from your fingertips. She took her own swig, grimacing at the bitter taste.
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
A dead pan look covered her. “All I’m saying is Harrington better watch out. He’s got some competition.”
You laughed bitterly at her words, taking a seat at one of the bar chairs. It was cool against your exposed legs, the heat from the moment finally drifting from them.
“Well, Harrington,” you mocked the last name she used, the both of you realizing if anyone had the right to call him Steve, it was her. “Was the one who hired him, new house job or whatever.”
“Consider that a gift,” she shrugged, laughing loudly as you shoved her shoulder. Heat pooled at your cheeks (and between your legs).
“Robin!”
“I’m just saying! He probably put an ad in the paper or something: Lonely Housewife Looking to Fuck.”
You dropped your head in your hands, laughter bubbling out at her words. She couldn’t get more ridiculous than this. A gasp left your mouth, your eyes peaking between the spaces of your fingers as you looked at her.
She was looking at the clipboard he had forgotten, a scrap of paper on top of the various items.
“I’d dust off the cobwebs, babe,” she giggled, sliding over the board to you. You peaked down at what was written, your heart racing at the scribble next to his number.
‘For the lonely wife. We could talk business. xx Eddie.’
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It had gotten interesting the last few weeks, the second story window becoming your favorite spot to watch Eddie work in the yard. The sweltering heat was your best friend behind the AC of your home, choosing to enjoy the way Eddie looked in the Indiana heat. Tight tank tops, tattoos exposed, hair pulled to the back of his head with loose curls framing his face.
He barked off orders to his crew, always cracking jokes with them, teeth bared in a grin. He was clearly a joy to be around, spreading humor to even you from yards away.
It was a cat and mouse game you could call it, Eddie clearly showing off his muscles and sex appeal while you played the other side, risking just how little of clothing you could get away with inside the comfort of your own home. You passed in front of windows, dropping the shoulders of your silk robes as you pretended to get distracted, bending over to grab ‘forgotten’ items on the floor.
You knew he knew what you were doing. He was aware of it the entire time, his own smiles thrown in your direction as you began to push your limits of what could be acceptable for looking, and not touching.
The shrill ringing of the FaceTime call brought you out of your observations, Steve’s contact appearing on screen. You slid open the call, smiling brightly when his face appeared, styled hair, button down open, exposing that silver chain and his chest full of hair.
“There’s my handsome boy,” you beamed, blowing a kiss to the screen. Steve smiled brightly, pressing his lips to the camera.
“And my beautiful wife,” he cooed, holding up the camera wide to give you a view of him. He was on a coast somewhere, Mediterranean. The view was beautiful, waves crashing as the sun was nearly gone from the sky.
“What are you up to, my love?”
You glanced out the window at Eddie, noticing his crew was gone. He stood alone in the center of the yard, taking a look at the landscaping design prints.
“Just… relaxing,” you let the camera show you resting against the window seat in your room, lingerie on display. The camera only showed a flash of your cleavage before you brought the camera back up, a shy, yet devious look on your face.
“What do y—oh.”
It was quick, the way Steve moved. Your phone screen showed a blur of Steve’s clothing, the sound of his footsteps, and the sliding of a glass door before he was shown again on the screen, his hair fanning out on a pillow on a bed.
“Tell me more.”
From the angle, you could tell that Steve had began to touch himself at the thought of you. You showed more of yourself, manicured hand beginning to run down your chest, trailing down your stomach to rest on the front of your panties.
It had been months since you last did this over the phone, the timing always so wrong or one of you not in the mood or always something.
“Thinking of you, Steve.”
It couldn’t be a lie if you were omitting part of the truth. He didn’t need to know you were thinking about Eddie as well.
“Fuck.”
The phone dropped against his chest, showing black before he picked it up again, a flushed look on his face. You giggled slightly, spreading your legs against the window bench as you showed more of yourself. Your hand slipped down the front of your underwear, teasing slightly as you ran the pads of your fingertips against your clit.
“Wish I was there with you, baby,” Steve sighed, eyes closed as slick noise began to be heard through the phone. You brushed your clit harder, whimpering as you thought of your husband touching himself to the thought of you.
Glancing out the window, Eddie was still distracted, back turned towards you. Your eyes squeezed shut as you dipped a finger lower, entering yourself.
“I miss you so much, Steve,” a whine left your throat. He let out a shuddered moan.
“You miss me, baby?”
Nodding, you pushed in another finger, the sound of your own slick filling your eyes. Pleasure began to course through you, an ache settling at your core.
“What do you miss the most?”
His tooth was dug into his bottom lip, a fucked out look on his face from his own hand. You could only imagine how he was feeling, achingly hard across the world from his wife who just looked so tempting.
“I miss your—fuck Steve—I miss your cock,” a whimper fell from you, your chest heaving as your fingers crooked against that spot deep inside you. You weren’t going to last long, this feeling had been building inside you for weeks.
“Oh my G—”
Steve’s side of the phone fell once again, a loud groan heard before the call dropped, the dial tone loud in the room. Tears pricked in your eyes as you tossed your phone to the side, leaning your head against the window as you looked down in the yard once more, fingers moving swiftly in and out of your wetness.
You had an audience now.
Eddie was staring up at you, look of shock on his face as he held the plans in his hand. A look from him alone was all you needed before coming, pussy throbbing around your digits, legs squeezing shut.
It was the most intense orgasm you had in a while, your body tensing up with release as pleasure washed over you. It took a moment before you came to, fingers leaving your core as you brushed once, twice more over your clit, riding out the feeling.
You didn’t have the nerve to look outside again, shame washing over you as you realized what had just happened.
Phone ringing once again, your shaky hand reached over the grab it, answering it to see Steve, face flushed and lip bitten red on the other end.
“I’m sorry, baby—This fucking service over here, I’m sorry,” he rushed, eyes apologetic. That puppy dog look you fell for was staring at you, grainy as his phone struggled to keep up. “Did you—”
You barely nodded, eyes hooded while you came down from your high.
“Babe, it’s okay.”
“No, I just—I’m sorry.”
“Steve,” he cut off his rambling as you gave him a stern look. You really did run things around the Harrington home. “I’m okay, really.”
“I love you.”
You smiled, blowing him another kiss. “I love you t-”
A male’s voice called from his end of the phone, immediately distracting both you and your husband. Sighing, you knew what was coming.
His face was sincere as he turned back to you, lips fixed in a pout.
“I gotta—”
You waved him off, sitting up slightly as you closed the silk around your frame. “Yeah, yeah, go handle business, Harrington.”
That’s why he loved you. No matter how much this truly did affect you, and how much you wished you could have more than a 10 minute call, you always were so supportive. He did support the lifestyle that you always dreamed of, even if it did come with certain circumstances that weren’t ideal.
“I love you, baby.” He moved to hang up the phone, pausing before ending the call. “Tell Ed I said hey, by the way.”
You swore your heart stopped beating in that moment as he left.
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You had resorted to staying inside, avoiding Eddie and his crew that occupied your lawns during the day hours. The deep insides of your home without windows facing them became your isolation points. It was everything and more for you to avoid him, guilt creeping into the pit of your stomach.
You'd even gone as far as avoiding Robin and her prying eyes. She had known something was going on with you, felt it deep in her soul. That woman knew you like the back of her hand, could recognize every shift of emotion you'd experience, knew something had gone down between the two of you even if touching wasn't necessarily involved.
("Is there something wrong, babe? You've barely touched your Pomerol." The eye roll you gave her could win awards.)
It was like something shifted in the air, grey clouds pulling in and thunder rumbling so hard, you could feel it in your chest. The next time you happened to pass in front of the foyer window you had seen that Eddie and his crew were quickly gone, not expecting the change in weather events.
Relaxation began to sag its relief at your shoulders, no longer feeling like a prisoner in your own home. It was a long time coming, you hadn't felt this much relief in your system since that after that Hargrove heir you briefly dated back in '06.
A knock pulled you out of your thoughts, Robin's image immediately popping up into your mind. It was probably time for her to finally confront you, bring Steve into it somehow and blame the Benzos for acting the way you had been lately. (It had nothing to do with it.)
You threw open the door, the weight of it slightly swinging your body. Your eyes didn't meet the person at first, an infamous eye roll already on the verge, "Rob, I don’t want to t—Oh."
It was Eddie in all his glory, T-shirt glued to his body from the rain that began to pour, curls beginning to hang loosely from the bun he wore, cheeks red and flushed. He breathed heavy upon seeing you, a smile ghosting his lips.
"Hi, hun," his voice was low, a slight hint of something in it.
You didn't know what to say, glancing behind you as if there was anyone to catch you for even thinking terrible thoughts. His eyes followed yours.
"Well, can I come in?"
"Oh." You swung the door a little wider, cringing at the way his work boots tracked in water from outside.
He shook out his hair like a dog, the droplets dampening you from afar. You didn't have the nerve to say anything to him, gobsmacked from the fact he was in front of you like a Greek God, beautiful as ever, but tempting in the worst way possible.
"I got stuck outside... truck wouldn't start," he explained, looking around the house as if it were the first time that he was in here. The realization of the scene in front of you finally caught up, you rushing to action to try and be the welcoming host that you always were.
"I think... here, come, Steve should have something you could change into," you said, beginning to lead him upstairs. You stopped at the base of the spiral staircase, pointing at his boots. "You better not."
He beamed at your words, quirking his eyebrow at you as if you said the funniest thing ever. Toeing them off quietly, he then followed your lead to your upstairs bedroom. He stared at you all while doing it, the tension in the room growing even at the thought of him undressing even slightly.
The track there felt like you were walking the green mile, Eddie close behind you as you lead him to the walk-in closet. He was silent, the only sounds of his breathing giving him away.
Back to him, you opened the panel hiding Steve's lounging clothes, rows of white and creme and pastel materials appearing. You felt his presence behind you, something like a predator creeping on its prey.
"I think he's—what are you, a size f—" Your breath hitched on your throat as you felt his fingers touch your forearms, guiding your hands down from the clothing.
His lips brushed the cartilage of your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. Tilting your head to the side, your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of him finally touching you.
His hand trailed up your arm, snaking around your exposed neck, a light kiss being pressed to the skin in front of your ear. You leaned your head back against him, a cut off groan leaving you as you relished in this moment.
"I've been waiting on this, hun," He whispered, reaching one hand down to your waist to pull you flush against him.
You gasped at the feeling of him against your backside, his body just as firm as you expected. The other hand cupped against the bottom of your chin, tilting your head back even further so his lips could press into the junction of your neck.
"You've looked so good," he continued. "So tempting."
Your hands reached up to grab at his arm, your ass pushing even further into him. He walked backwards with you in his grasp, falling against the large ottoman in the center of the closet. It was big enough to seat the two of you, his large frame sprawled in the center of it while you sat petite in his lap, legs on either side of his, back pressed into his chest.
"I can't believe Stevie leaves you here. All alone. So vulnerable."
A whimper left your mouth as he leaned back slightly, pulling you with him. The hand that was once around your waist snaked down to your front, dipping down into the front of your silk sleep shorts.
"Eddie." You whimpered, his name coming out in a choke as he ghosted over your clit.
He was teasing in his movements, bringing you right to the precipice of pleasure. The second he got close to pressing down firm and just right, he would remove his touch, only to ghost down lower to tease your dampening hole.
"What do you need?"
You groaned, spreading your legs further as he continued in his movements. Knowing exactly what he wanted, you wanted to refuse to give in, refuse to have yourself beg for him. But it had been months after all, the only human touch you'd experience was from yourself.
"I need you."
It was a quiet whine into the room, almost inaudible behind the heavy breathing. That one word was all that he needed, his hand fully pressing into your cunt, swirling your clit in a way that had your head spinning.
The choked sob that left your mouth earned a groan of his own, loud and just as wanting as your own. Your head was leaned back against him, your neck exposed, mouth wide open and turned towards the ceiling.
Eddie's mouth was sucking and licking along your neck, his heavy breathing tickling at your spine as he dipped a finger to press into you, thumb circling your clit. The digit stretched you wide, wetness pooling down onto his hand.
"You get this wet just for me?"
Your hips were grinding against his hand, wanting more from him as he finger fucked you.
"Eddie please."
"I know, hun, I know." He removed his hand from you, standing you up and off his lap. You whimpered at the loss of contact, squeezing your legs together as he was sprawled in front of you.
He reached his hands towards you, stopping at the hem of your tank top to pull it up and over you, exposing your naked breasts to him. A glimmer of arousal appeared in his eyes, his teeth dug into his bottom lip as he stared at your chest, hand reaching up to cup at the globes. Leaning up, he took one nipple into his mouth from his seated position, licking and sucking at the hardened nub.
It was like you found yourself in heaven, sudden pleasure finding you all at once. Tangling your fingers in his hair, you pulled him into your chest even further, whining at the contact of his mouth on your skin.
He traded onto the other nipple, squeezing the abandoned one between his fingers. He moaned in between the loud sucking, making a show of how much he loved the taste of you.
Pulling away, his fingers found the hem of your shorts. The material pooled down at your feet, your stark nakedness becoming apparent in the giant room against his clothed body.
He drank you in, his eyes roaming your body as you stood in front of him.
"You're so fucking beautiful," he groaned, shaking his head in disbelief.
He reached down to his pants, unbuttoning the jeans and sliding down the zipper ever so slowly. It was torture, watching him undress himself, the slide of his jeans down his legs, dropping down to his ankles with his boxers to follow.
He pulled his shirt over his head, spreading his legs wide as he leaned back on the ottoman. His cock was fully free, springing to full attention as he took a hold of it. Dropping your eyes down to ogle at the sheer beauty of it, head dripping wet with precum, long and thick with a vein running down the middle.
Eddie smirked at your fascination, ushering you closer to him with the curve of his finger.
You took a seat on his lap, legs caging him in as you settled over his cock, head pressing at your entrance. As he pressed in slightly, your eyes bulged slightly, realizing that in no way you were not prepared for his size.
His lips pursed into a shushing motion, "Shh, hun, it's okay."
He guided your hips down onto him, pressing deep into you. The feeling of his cock split you wide open, a strained moan pouring out of you. Your fingers wrapped around his neck, gripping at him to ease the stretch you were feeling.
Giving you only a second of breathing time, he gripped at your waist, urging you up and down on his shaft, thrusting into you shallowly.
He hit you deep, hitting every spot you forgot was inside of you, pleasure creeping through your body.
"F-fuck Eddie," your moans were load in the room, the sound of his balls hitting against your ass growing louder as he became more brutal in his movement.
Pulling you against him, he slotted his lips with yours, harshly nipping at the skin, sinking his teeth into your lips, sucking your tongue into his mouth. You were lost in the pleasure, soaking wet around him as he fucked into you.
His fingers were splayed across your hips, dipping onto the curve of your ass as you bounced on his cock. Your orgasm was approaching quick, a lot quicker than you had imagined.
"You wanna cum for me, babe?" He mouthed against you, lips not leaving yours as your vision began to fog.
The curve of his cock hit your spongey wall repeatedly, urging completion suddenly. Your body began to tense up, legs shaking as you approached your high, cock-drunk on this feeling.
"Eds, I'm go—"
Your orgasm washed over you, tensing your spine as he fucked you through it, clit throbbing as it brushed that thatch of hair as the base of his cock. He was quick to follow, pulling out just in time to come over you, painting white over the bottom of your stomach.
It was messy, dripping over the two of you as the come down approached you. You took a moment, breathing deeply as your eyes briefly shut, head falling against his shoulder while you relaxed into him.
He was breathless, wrapping his arms around you to settle into your lap.
"I've been waiting on this a while," he admitted, sighing deep into your neck. You nodded at his words, agreeing, yet speechless for the mind-blowing orgasm you had just experienced.
He leaned back, pressing a small kiss to your mouth before looking into your eyes, head leaning against your own.
"Round two? I could use a shower."
He laughed at your words, shock evident in his eyes at your boldness, but jumping at the opportunity, throwing your body over his shoulder like you weighed nothing.
As the dreary weather settled outside, you couldn't be more thankful for the turn of events. There was a long night ahead of you.
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The morning light crept through the drawn curtains, your naked body sprawled out against the white sheets. Drawing slowly into consciousness, you rubbed the sleep from your eyes, reaching beside you.
The bed was cold, Eddie's figure obviously missing from your side for who knows how long.
Memories of last night came flooding back to you, the positions that he had you in bringing out the soreness in your body. There were visions of you propped up against the shower wall, your legs thrown over his shoulders, pressed to your chest, orgasm after orgasm pulled from you, until you couldn't give any more.
Draping the bed sheet around your naked body, you sat up in bed, perking up at the smell of fresh coffee brewing. There was a skip in his step as you heard him coming down the hall, energy coming back to you as you imagined what was to come, breakfast in bed, getting bent in between courses.
Your smile dropped from your face as you saw him, large cup in hand as he made his way into the room. Steve.
His perfectly styled brown hair, that charming smile as he stared at you, raising his eyebrows as he saw you relaxed in bed. Your nakedness seemed like a lot, even in the privacy of your own shared bedroom.
"There's my girl," he smiled, placing the mug down on the bedside table before leaning over to press a kiss to your forehead. Your hand subconsciously came up to cover the side of your neck, dark purple bruises had to have been there from the events of last night.
"S-Steve, what are you doing here?"
He fake pouted, a scoff leaving his mouth. "Three months, and that's all you got?"
The sudden realization that your husband was right here hit you, a smile crossing your features as you wrapped your arms around him. He collapsed on top of you, laughing loudly as you attacked him with kisses, your lips covering every inch of skin that you could find.
"Relax, relax," he cackled, pressing his own kisses to you in between attacks.
Pulling away, he took a good look at you, the most loving smile covering his face. Guilt found you, pooling deep in your chest and the pit of your stomach. Your loving husband, being away to support you, only to come home and find his wife in this position, a classic case of infidelity.
"Steve," your voice fell short as you stared into his auburn eyes. His brow furrowed, his thumb coming up to swipe at your eyebrow, smoothing the crinkled skin.
"What's wrong, baby?"
"I just—" Cue the dramatics. Tears began to well in your eyes as you processed the situation, he didn't deserve this. There was nothing he could do to calm you down, the hitching of your breath in your throat, the choked sob leaving your mouth as you struggled over the words to say.
"Did you miss me that much?"
You choked even harder at his words, pulling you into his arms as your vision became blurry. It was getting even worse for you.
"Baby..." There was a warning tone in his words, his patience growing thin as you wouldn't let up. You brought yourself together, hiccuping slightly as you stared up into his eyes. Your mouth opened and closed, the words to say leaving you.
You didn't need to say anything as his eyes finally decided to trail lower than your face, noticing the dark bruises forming along the side of your neck. His eyebrows raised slightly as the rest of his face remained emotionless, his thumb tracing over the skin.
"I don't know what to say," you said, hanging your head away from him. You couldn't look him in the eyes as he studied the hickies left behind from Eddie.
"I see you got my present," he whispered, running the pad of his finger over your neck.
Your head shot up to look at him, eyes wide and confused.
"You-what are you...? Steve—what?" You didn't know what to say to him, confused on what was even happening right now. He was so stoic, you couldn't read him. His eyes found yours, humor in his eyes.
"Eddie. My present."
There was a moment of silence as you processed his words, memories of the past few weeks knowing the mentioned man passing through your mind. Realization hit you, knowing that this man in front of you was so calculated, everything had to have been him.
"Why didn't you say anything!" You wanted to kill him, but wanted to kiss him at the same time.
"It was supposed to be a surprise," he shrugged, smirking at you as relief crossed over your face. You wiped the hot tears that had streaked your cheeks, embarrassed of the thought you could even betray him.
"How did you even—are you sure this wasn't a test I just failed?"
He laughed at your words, shaking his head as he pressed a kiss to your temple. "I promise, baby."
You sighed in relief as he kissed you, fingers underneath your chin to pull you closer into him. Kissing this man felt like a dream that would've never came true, a surprise of your life time brought to its fullest extent.
His mouth was as soft as you remembered, taste as sweet as the last time. All those months of anticipation were worth the wait, feeling like it was truly nothing.
He leaned over your body, pressing you down into the mattress as the sheet began to fall away from your body. With your fingers pulling open the button down he wore, his chest became exposed, firm muscle rippling underneath your touch.
"You beat me to it, Stevie."
A gasp left you as you pulled away from your husband, head craning towards the door. Eddie stood in the frame, white bath towel draped loosely over his hips, hair dripping wet from a shower. He took in the sight of the two of you tangled on the bed, Steve's shirt hanging half off of him, the sheet gone from your body.
Glancing up at the man above you, you saw the smirk he was giving Eddie, canines exposed. It was like you were looking at someone completely different from the man you've known for years, an evil, sexually driven person in front of you.
"You going to stand there, Munson or...?"
With a smirk of his own, he was headed over to you two, towel dropping from his body. His cock was already hard and heavy between his legs, dripping with anticipation as he threw himself on the bed. Immediately, his hands found your body, headed straight towards your hard nipples with his mouth quick to follow.
A strangled moan escaped you as the shock settled over, Steve leaning up on his knees to get rid of his pants.
The belt was thrown across the room, his eyes not leaving the two of you once as he undressed.
"Wait—" You breathed, pushing Eddie off of you. The two men stared down at you, scared of your next move, that you would end whatever this was right now. You looked towards Steve, eyebrows raised. "Are you okay with this?"
Steve's eyebrows raised as he glanced in between the two of you, his hand pulling his dick out of his boxers, pushed down to his thigh. Your eyes dropped down to take view, mouth watering at the sight.
"Let's just say... we have a history of sharing."
He winked at Eddie before diving between your legs, nose immediately pressed to your cunt. You didn't have time to even think about what he said, figuring that it was a topic to explore at a much later time.
His tongue quickly found your clit, circling the nub before licking up the length of your slit. Your thighs squeezed the side of his head, a whine filling the room as Eddie sat up to stare at the show. His own hand tangled in Steve's mane, pulling him closer to you as he sopped you up. The groan he let out vibrated against your core, urging another wave of wetness out of you.
"F-fuck Ste-"
You couldn't even get the words out as his finger pressed at your hole, pushing in a single digit. It curled against your wall, pressing into your pleasure point. Your head was thrown back into the pillows against the headboard, white hot pleasure tingling at your spine.
Eddie leaned down to lick at your nipple, eyes intently watching Steve suck at your cunt, chin growing more wet from your juices.
"Baby-please-"
He nodded, glancing up to make eye contact with the two of you. Not moving, he inserted another finger into you, moving at a faster pace. You whimpered even louder, spreading your legs wider to get him deeper inside of you.
"You want to share?" Eddie laughed, sitting up to stroke at his hard cock. A pearl of white beaded at the tip, squeezed out by the cuff of his hand.
Steve smirked around your clit, pulling away at the retort as he pulled you up to meet him. Turning you around, you were maneuvered to your hands and knees, ass pressed into the air. He ran the head of his cock against your hole, dragging it up over your ass and back down to your cunt, pressing at the sensitive hole.
Hissing at the feeling, you were still sore from the multiple rounds you went with Eddie the previous night.
"You had her all night, 's my turn, Munson," Steve breathed, pressing to the hilt in a smooth motion. The two of you groaned as he fully pressed into you. He paused in his movements, hand pressed to the small of your back as you both adjusted.
Eddie shrugged, moving in front of you with his legs splayed wide open, hand stroking his shaft.
You knew what to do, leaning down onto your elbows to take the head of his cock into your mouth, sucking at it. His hand gripped the back of your head, pushing you down farther than you expected. The gag that left your mouth filled the room, catching Steve off guard as his hips stuttered inside of you.
"Watch it," he hissed, pausing only slightly before pulling out and pressing back in all the way. His cock had a curve in it, damn near pressing into your cervix as he fucked you.
Eddie was smirking, hand still on your head as you began to bob your head up and down, hollowing your cheeks.
You were so filled on both ends, you were seeing stars. Both men in your presence were making you feel like you had lost it, the heavy alcohol consumption over the past few months maybe had really gotten to you.
Your hand trailed off of Eddie's dick, dropping down to cup at his balls, rolling them between your fingers. Eddie's head fell against the headboard, his hips stuttering as you took him into your mouth.
With every thrust of Steve's hips, you were rocked into the tattooed man in front of you, choking down further and further. It was all becoming a little too much, both holes being filled beyond your limits.
"Just like that, baby, fuck," Steve moaned, hand inching up your spine to rest at the top of your spine. He leaned over, forcing your legs a little wider so his cock pressed even further into you. His hand found the base of your neck, pushing your head even further onto Eddie.
The motion had Eddie groaning, hips suddenly spilling as he came, warm liquid spurting down your throat. It had you choking, pulling off of him in time for it to spill out of your mouth, dripping back down onto him. The entire moment was so dirty, so filthy, it caused a chain reaction, Steve pressing into you once, twice more before cumming deep.
You pulsed around him, squeezing tight as your own orgasm took over you. For a split moment, you think you passed out, vision blurring, going black briefly before you came to, laying down on your stomach, legs shaking.
Your hand came to wipe at your eyes, tears pooling at the corners from the high you just experienced. There was no way you were coming down from this, the purest form of pleasure you think you'd ever experienced.
Eddie was leaning against the headboard, cock swelling down after his spend, his hand running over your skin as you leaned against his thigh. Steve was half way on you, his own breath catching from the high.
"You okay there, hun?"
Eddie's voice was raspy, his eyes wandering over you and your husband. Nodding, you threw him a shaky thumbs up, not finding the words to even utter a syllable.
Steve laughed, running his hand over your spine. It found the base of your spine, squeezing the globe of your ass.
"I think she will be after a few more rounds."
nothing more. all I have to say on this. hope you guys enjoyed this lengthy piece of pure smut. lol xx
masterlist. <3
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monstertreden · 25 days ago
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◡̈⋆🅷🅸(●’◡’●)ノ!! saw that requests for writing is open, so I would like to politely and gladly request this 🤍
mutual pining with optimus prime and human fem reader!! and if possible, the timeline in the bumblebee film (2018) please. optimus is confused about the blossoming feelings he has for reader and seeks help from bumblebee since he has been on earth longer and assumes he knows better haha!! bumblebee is like his wingman :3c
sorry for yapping, but this is my request please and thank you 🥹🫶🏻 have a good one!!! <33
☁︎ RAINY DAYS ☁︎
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-Reader: FEM reader  -TW: none -Character: Optimus Prime (Transformers 2018 movie) -Summary: Optimus develops a quiet, protective affection for a human companion, treasuring their moments together. -Word count : 1453 -A/N: Ahhh this was so cutee!! I've tried my best, anon! :) It took me a bit to polish this one just trying to catch Optimus character better :3, hope you like it! . . . I love big robots.
The Prime stood in quiet contemplation, his optics flickering with the weight of his thoughts. Today the "Autobots base" was noiseless, except for the only sound in the room that came from a small TV. Its screen casted a faint glow, as his loyal companion, Bumblebee, zapped through various channels, each displaying what he presumed was human entertainment. The great leader of the Autobots had faced countless battles and made decisions that shaped the fate of Earth itself. Yet, now, he was confronted with a challenge that left him uncertain… his growing affection for a human.
He turned his helm towards Bumblebee, who was still tinkering with a small rectangular device, undoubtedly another human invention. The scout's dexterous servos moved with precision, his curiosity for human culture evident in every motion. That curiosity he had for humans was something else, Bumblebee had always been adept at understanding humans, particularly one individual who had become dear to the scout’s spark, a connection Optimus couldn’t quite wrap his helm around.
"Bumblebee, my dear friend." Optimus's voice rumbled inside the shed, to which the scout beeped in acknowledgement, blue optics lifting from the small device he held. For all his wisdom and experience, Optimus found the nuances of such personal connections… elusive, particularly when it came to matters involving a certain earth native. "I find myself in need of your counsel…” his voice steady but laced with an uncharacteristic hesitance. “…might I ask, how does one get acquainted with an earthling?”
Bumblebee's optics brightened with amusement. Lately, he had seen the Prime’s subtle shifts once he got closer to their human friend. To see the unshakeable pillar of their team, a leader who rarely wavered, seeking guidance on something as deeply personal as affection, from him! Knowing full well that too much teasing could get him grounded, once again, by the big boss, he suppressed a teasing comment.  
Shifting between radio stations, Bumblebee spoke "—that’s it!—might as well spend quality time with her—boss!”
The idea of approaching a human affectionately weighed heavily on Optimus. Deep down he was lost in thought, the alliance between humans and Autobots came first. However, this particular human had earned his respect, and gradually, he found himself warming up to her presence.
It was unexpected…
Ever attuned to his leader's demeanour nuances, Bumblebee softened his  veiled teasing, followed by his next suggestion “---You all go for--- a Joy Ride!---”
Racing with a pick-up truck? That would be too risky, perhaps even impractical. His alt mode was functional, built for resilience and reliability, not for speed or flashiness, neither a sports car nor a sleek vehicle.  It was a step he could take, though at his own pace.
"I thank you, dear friend" Optimus said, a note of gratitude in his voice. "Your insight is... most valuable."
.ᐟ.ᐟ
The sky had darkened, thick clouds gathering as a gentle rain began to fall. Subsequentially, the steady rhythm of the droplets intensified, each drop falling heavier than before. Amid the relentless rain, another sound broke through the downpour. It was the distinctive hum of an engine, accompanied by the sharp, glowing brilliance of the four headlights piercing through the rain. The pickup truck stood resolutely by the side of the road, its metallic frame shimmering as droplets clung to its surface.
The truck had been waiting patiently for an indeterminate time as then, through the haze of rain she appeared, huddled under a small red umbrella. Illuminated by the soft glow of a streetlamp, Optimus watched as she approached, her steps careful on the slick pavement. Once she reached his side, the door unlocked with a quiet click, inviting her inside. “Finally—” trembling, she climbed into the passenger seat, the door closing firmly behind her.
Inside, she was enveloped by the warmth of the front seats, a stark contrast to the cool rain outside. She set her umbrella aside and leaned back in the seat, with a contented sigh. "Thanks a lot for picking me up, Optimus" her voice resonated in his spark “I’m terribly sorry, I hope I didn’t make you wait too long under this damn rain! I swear, my weather said it was going to be cloudy...totally not this??”
"It is no trouble," Optimus replied, his voice a gentle rumble through the speakers. “I wouldn't want you walking in this kind of weather, you might get hurt. Never hesitate to give me a call, little one.”
Soon enough the engine started, and they drove in comfortable silence, the rain creating a soothing backdrop. Optimus found solace in these quiet moments, the presence of his human companion filling the space with an unspoken connection. He relished the opportunity to simply be near her, to share in the simplicity of the moment. This was his kind of “Joy ride”, a serene, intimate experience far removed from the high-energy adventures Bumblebee often took part in.
As they neared her home, the glow of streetlights casting soft halos on the rain-slicked road, she turned slightly, her gaze thoughtful. "You know," she began "I’ve always appreciated how you make time for me. It means a lot."
Optimus's spark swelled with an emotion that, despite his longevity and vast experience since he first came online, he was still learning to fully understand. "Your companionship brings me a sense of peace," he admitted, the sincerity in his tone unmistakable. "It is a privilege to be a part of your world."
Her hand reached out, soft fingers brushing against the dashboard in a gesture of affection. “And it's a privilege to have you in mine, truly"  she whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the engine. She knew he could hear her, loud and clear, even if he didn’t respond immediately. There was a quiet understanding between them, one that was broken by his warm voice, drawing her attention.
“Would you like to hear some stories, my little friend?”
.ᐟ.ᐟ
An hour had passed, her eyelids grew heavy and she found herself lulled by the light sway of the truck. It was a rare moment of peace in a world often filled with chaos. Here, cradled in the safety of Optimus Prime, she allowed herself to drift into a peaceful slumber, trusting completely in the steadfast guardian who was carrying her home.
“---This brings many memories in my circuit” Optimus mused softly “The first steps we Autobots took on your lively, vibrant planet. It’s a bittersweet feeling, filled with nostalgia…” His words trailed off as he realized she had succumbed to sleep, her form gently resting against the cushion seat. “oh…” His words had continued longer than he intended. She had fallen asleep, her head resting against the cushioned seat.
His engine hummed quietly as he turned the corner by her house. With a slow, deliberate movement, the Prime transformed. His massive frame shifted awkwardly, yet he was careful enough to avoid any disruption.
With utmost care, his servos extended towards her,  cradling her sleeping form. She stirred slightly but did not wake, her trust in him evident in her relaxed posture. As if in the hands of someone who would never harm her.
Attentive optics caught sight of the slightly open window. Soon, Optimus approached it, parting it with a click, careful not to make a sound. The rain had all but ceased, leaving the night air cool and fresh. With ultimate precision, he laid her down on her bed, tucking the blanket around her in a gesture that felt almost human. He lingered for a moment, his optics soft, his gaze filled with a tenderness that reflected his deep sense of protectiveness. She was safe here, in the comfort of her own room, sheltered from the outside world.
He stood there for a moment, his optics soft as he gazed at her peaceful expression. "Goodnight," he whispered, his voice a deep murmur. "May the stars always guide you."
.ᐟ.ᐟ
As he quietly stepped back from the window, miraculously avoiding breaking the glass, the Prime remained near her backyard, his massive form casting a shadow over the wall of her house. The soft hum of his systems settled into a quiet vigil, ensuring her safety throughout the night. There Optimus found solace in the knowledge that, for now, as long as he was with her, she would be safe and sound. With the Autobots' base under control, he decided to linger near her home, keeping a watchful optic on her,  a silent but devoted promise of protection and care.
The faint light of the stars reflected in his optics as the night enveloped him while he transformed back into his vehicle mode.
Tomorrow would be another day.
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wroteclassicaly · 8 months ago
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18+
Warnings: Language, past trauma, mentions wounds, ptsd, anxiety, panic, fluff, mentions hurt/comfort, and smut. Plus sized reader. NSFW!
A/N: I missed Eddie. I’m feeling quite down on my body type, so I kind of wrote this with my own body size in mind ❤️
~*~
Eddie Munson always said he didn’t care. Didn’t want to be a boyfriend. Wasn’t pissed off if girls didn’t cling onto him after their brief time together (usually late nights, quiet places). If they don’t want the freak, why would the freaky freak want them? Fuck love, it’s just a facade.
At least, that’s what he used to say until he met you in the Spring of 86. You were involved in Henderson’s little banded family unit, constantly being talked about even before Eddie saw you. He was a bit perturbed already. If you were close to Wheeler and Harrington, you were probably a snob. Quite the contrary, as Eddie remembers clearly, watching you quiet from the sidelines as he’d been told monsters were real, but not cool dragons or slayers — just a teenage girl with mind powers.
Gentle, but rough. You dove in before Wheeler to save Harrington, you jumped back into that disgusting hole in the floor to try and help wake Nancy up, and when it came down to battle? You wore your outfit without fear, and silently had reached for Eddie’s hand on the way to everyone’s stations, squeezing. He’d seen that face before, your vacant expression, a false smile you attempted when you were not in thought. You weren’t okay, but you had been trying to make it that way for everyone else.
And it wasn’t, not for a long time. Not after you lost, he died, Carver died, and Mayfield went into a coma. A fight occurred in Hawkins before he was brought back, one that Eddie still sees in your eyes when the sun goes down and it’s quiet in the trailer, sans the beeping of the smoke alarm. Sometimes you just bring him impossibly closer, that he isn’t sure whose body heat is causing him to perspire. And others, you wake up in his arms, pulling him on top, clinging to his neck, your lips panting pleas into his mouth that ask for help.
Mutual scars, tragedy, blame, regrets, trauma, you helping his recovery, his process, even when he wasn’t so nice, that he wished he’d stayed gone. It’s all there, things that he feels safe only sharing with you. His marked body, one he is comfortable letting only you feel, see. He isn’t sure when it happened, really. But he knows now, especially looking at you beside him, your necklaces hanging around your neck, their charms dangling between your breasts, one leg propped, the other flat, lying open, evidence of the previous half hour shining between your thighs, and he’s propped on his palm, blowing out the last of his cigarette smoke, stubbing out the end.
You’re reading a piece of his work in progress fantasy novel, one based off of things that have happened. You’re lost in his vivid descriptions, captivated by his words, led by the hand that holds his pen. And his enriching, dark eyes, they caving into blown pupils, his ring clad finger trailing down your shoulder, following the curvature into your elbow’s inside. You’re already smiling by the time that he reaches your neck, sucking the flesh into his mouth, trailing wet kisses over your jugular. His arm elongates, easing his creation from your grip to throw aside.
You pretend to huff, and he catches your mouth in a kiss. It’s sloppy, tastes of smoke, but it’s precise, it’s familiar, it’s Eddie. Your fingers slide through his curls, freshly washed, yet frizzed from previous humidity. You tug on his blood stained pick, and he knows your implications, follows your soft look. He has to tilt your chin, shaking his head. “Remember that I’m right here, sweetheart. All of me but one nipple.”
He treasures you by bestowing that trademark Munson smirk, making your brief panic ebb away to pleasure. And you cave you into him, permitting his fingers to slide against your cunt, cupping. It’s a whine in his mouth that gets him to slide an ankle beneath yours, pulling you open for more availability. You could have anyone, you could’ve had something going on with Steve. But it’s Eddie you go to bed with every night, it’s he that you spend hours talking to on the phone when you’re not together, it’s him who holds you when you have a nightmare, and it’s Eddie Munson that you’ve already given your heart to, unbeknownst to him.
He’s falling into your grip, trying to situate himself, amused as he asks. “Already? Can you take it —“
And he goes head over ass, world Olympics type shit when you manage to maneuver him onto his back, unafraid, sat on top him in all over your glory. Your curves overflow, breasts sitting heavy, begging to be touched. You reach behind you, taking him in your hand. He’s nodding like an eager ass, little nerdy beaver. He could giggle right now. Your pupils are blown to the brim of your irises, a look of lavish possessiveness sweeping across him, and holy fuck does he feel sexy.
He doesn’t have to verbalize his consent, his brazen ‘take me now’ appears in the form of his hands reaching for your tits. You groan upon him getting a handful (and Christ, they still won’t fit). It’s a burning stretch, but you slide down his cock in moments, ones that Eddie holds his breath for, only able to gasp when you’re seated fully, sticky and spread around him.
He cares. He cares so much.
You grasp onto his wrists, clenching around him as he gives you two words, “Go, baby.” And then your hands are dropping to dig into his chest, thumbs beneath his chain, in newly grown out hair along his sternum, making scars feel like warrior wounds he’s proud to own.
You look at, leveling off his hands before they can drop from your breasts, pressing down so that he gets the message to grip tighter.
Fuck. He’s in love. He’s in love with you.
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monarchberrysblog · 4 months ago
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📄 — xx.emo_boy.exe (early y2k au)
now presenting…
⛓️🩷 kinktober | week three → dry humping and mutual masturbation
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🖤 emo boy! miguel o’hara x pastel! reader 🖤
🎮 summary: “it may not look like he gets bitches, but honey, that dick was eleven inches.”
🎮 content warning: peeking under the skirt, voyeurism, public sex, mutual masturbation (kinda), dry humping, and switch behavior in both parties (more submissive behavior from Miguel.)
🎮 word count: +1.5k words (something smol)
🎮 author’s notes: I originally posted this last Wednesday, but I didn’t feel satisfied with the story's ending and layout. Take this as an unofficial sorry. And if the ending feels weird, I apologize in advance as well 😖
📀 not proofread 📀
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Dedicated to @opaloharas and @miguelhugger2099, to my cuties. Thank you for the inspo and y'all deserve some mandarinas 🍊
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Regulars. The best or the worst damn thing to exist on the planet.
But for Miguel? Seeing you as a regular in Spencers' always caused a flutter in his stomach. You were a pretty little thing that starkly contrasted in the dim store. The white ribbons in your hair and the pink and purple pastels made you glow. But the kicker?
The thigh highs you always wore.
The nylon material screamed to be ripped and accessible from your plush thighs. Every time you bent over to pick out a shirt or weekly browsing of piercings, he could have sworn that he heard the souls of your thigh highs wanting to be free, but they never ripped.
They either were little bows or fishnets. But your favorites? They were black thigh-highs with big satin bows, matching with your shorts or black skirts. The nylon thigh-high made you look soft, so soft to sleep on, to bite, and to squeeze.
But the little mini-skirts only fed his perverted ego—the tiny bit of fabric barely covered your rear, which caused you to flash anyone who happened to be within your radius accidentally. It has happened so often that he practically memorized your underwear drawer and how much you frequent his job just to look for clothes or piercings.
Being the bigger man, he asks you out. (In which you accept happily after he said he would help you take a couple of pictures for your MySpace.)
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“Could you move to the right?” He mumbles, trying his best to not eye you with how you leaned on the marble headstone. “Should I arch my back?” You quip. Your fingertips graze the cold stone while you pose.
“Nah.” He dismisses, fighting back a blush on his cheeks and hoping the autumn air did him justice to blow the warmth off his cheeks. The digital camera's flash lit up the radius momentarily before the small digital device beeped an obnoxious tone.
“Damn, out of storage.” He huffs and turns the camera downwards, away from you. “Here, let me delete some old pictures.” You jumped off the marble, patting the cold stone and whispering a thank you.
You place a crystal at the foot of the grave and make your way over to Miguel.
He hands you the digital camera before looking around the flat land that is only filled with marble stone or flowers.
“Are we even supposed to be here?” He bites the question, seeing an old couple leave the graveyard, holding onto each other while shuffling away. “Yeah, graveyards used to be known as hangout spots.” You reply and push down on the tiny buttons on the digital device.
“I don't mean to sound like a pussy or whatever, but this place rubs me the wrong way.”
“Don’t worry. They mean no harm. Just respect them and don't step on their graves. I think we got enough pictures…”
He dismisses your statement with a grunt and haphazardly moves his feets towards you instead. He didn't need a heavy stomach after this.
There was no way that this was the cutesy, pastel girl at his job two days ago looking for cat plushies…
“I know it's early to call it a day, but,” You raise your brow and exhale a shaky sigh. “Wanna hang out a little while longer?” You exhaled a nervous chuckle as you fidget with the hem of your skirt, nearly ripping off the lacy frills.
His heart leaped into the back of his throat—the urge to scream a loud yell that was enough to wake up those asleep in the afterlife. “Yeah, sure. It's no big deal.” He answers with a light dismissal and shrugs.
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The dried grass's vibrant orange and red leaves provided a stunning contrast to the color of your hair. The soft earth underneath cushioned you as you lay back, and a giggle escaped your lips. Slowly, he crawled over to you, and with the utmost tenderness, he planted a soft butterfly kiss on your cupid’s bow.
The soft gesture contrasted the careless nature he bumbled about. “This is new.” You quip, reaching up to comb a loose strand of hair away from his face.
As you lean in for the next kiss, the playful smirk on your lips fades away as a surge of sweet warmth envelops you, stealing your focus and drawing you into the moment. Tilting your head slightly, you tenderly press your lips against Miguel, savoring the gentle and innocent connection.
His gentle hands glided along the curves of your body, reveling in the warmth and tenderness as your skin resisted the chill of the cemetery.
His hand hovers the swell of your breasts, itching to ravish your warmth and softness. “You can touch me.” You look up at him through your faux lashes. His fingers were taut like a cadaver. He wanted to touch and ravish you like a seafood boil on a summer day. The goose pimples on his skin trembled and seeped into his core like poison coursing through his veins. “Right.” He exhaled and moved his cramped fingers to squeeze your breast gently.
Warm and soft. He did another squeeze as if he was confirming what he felt was genuine and it wasn't one of his perverted dreams from the night before.
“Your face… are you okay?” Your question plagues the silence. “Yeah, of course. You’re just… soft.”
“Can I take this off?” His eyes gesture at the pastel-pink sweater—his fingers toy with the zipper pull.
You nod adamantly as you squirm closer to him and pull yourself closer. His fingers tremble, but he manages to pull the zipper down. The sight of your simple tank top and hardened nipples peeking through the cotton top.
“Are you sure?” He swallows, ready to back down from the close proximity. “Yeah, go ahead.” You whisper and gently guide his hands back to your figure.
His crimson pools leaked into your honey ones, the contrasting colors mellowing out to one another into one. His mouth latches onto your clothed nipple, gently licking and sucking. His sharpened canine grazed the sensitive skin, earning a shudder from you.
He pulled away, leaving a wet patch against the cotton tank top. The dark color of your areola peeked through, pleading for more attention.
A soft growl escaped before he gently pins you down on the soft patch of grass. Your hand wanders down, snaking into his dark denim. The clothes bulge against your fingertips ignites a fire deep in your core.
A soft groan escapes him. You had him wrapped around your pretty little fingers. Quite literally. He jerks his hips towards your palm, seeking friction to relieve the aching, numbing pain in his lower stomach. “Wait, hold on…” You squirm about and pull your hand away.
Your hands move quickly, removing his chunky belts and disregarding the faux leather. You yank down his jeans to free him from the restraints of his jeans. He softly groans when your fingers gently probe at his tip. The taut, moist skin seeks attention, twitching for contact. Then, your warming palm firmly grasped him and gently began to move up and down his length. It felt as if his body took a screenshot. The sensation ached slowly as his body trembled for a release.
His pleads were soft, afraid of his voice being heard from unseen presence at the flat lands around them. He adjusts himself, and moves his hand down south. The wet slit against his fingertips enables him to gently rub the pads of his fingers at the thin, wet slit on the cloth. His fingers gently pull at the gusset, and finally, his fingers probe at your clit, rubbing the nerves in tight, slow circles. The slow build up caused you to squirm about, ready to coat his fingers.
Soft pants filled the cemetery while your fingers produced more squelching noises from each other’s bodies. “Give me a moment…” You pant, letting go of him and moving your clothed cunt toward the tightening friction of his jeans.
The moist, soft sensation against the bulge softened into him. He melted and adjusted the two of you, gently settling you down onto his hardening arousal. He gently moves his hips, seeking relieving friction to his aching cock. If he could, he could almost imagine the sticky coating of your juices seeping out of your panties and coating his cock. The imagery plagued his mind like a vice as he continued with the gentle motions against your clothed pussy.
The temptation to just slide in…
The sticky fluid snaps him back to reality, effectively staining your already-soaked lacy panties and his boxers. His eyes dart away quickly, and he sits back, getting off of you. The milky fluid contrasted the dark panties, evidence that he left his heavy load on you.
He pulls you close, his exhale trembling into an uneasy vibrato. When he feels your skin tight and cold to the touch, the warmth of his palms rubs against it, creating more goosebumps in their wake.
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tag list:
@hyjionie @zaunsin @kavimoo @keiva1000
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cupidssorbet · 27 days ago
Text
"Over the desk."
⋆₊˚⊹♡ Boss!Miguel O'Hara x Assistant reader.
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Characters included: Miguel O'Hara.
Summary: Your boss has begun to notice the way you stare and the certain things you do when he's around and he's decided to help you out a bit.
⋆₊˚⊹♡ Note: This is inspired by Badjur's assistant audio! :) Also I apologize for this taking FAR LONGER than I meant it too!
Content/Includes: JOI(Jerk off instructions), Jerking off over the phone, Mutual Masturbation, Guided Masturbation, Exhibitionism, Tit worship, Overall body worship,
Enjoy! ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ ✧ and a big thank you for sticking around while I was away!! I plan to write some gravity falls stuff soon to do with everyone’s favorite grunkles since I’ve recently played the dating sim AND have also recently rewatched arcane as well as the S2 eps (again) and plan to write for that too!
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You’d been working for Miguel O’Hara for almost 4 years now, in all those 4 years you’d never been more affected and bothered by a person quite like the way your own BOSS got to you. You could never put your finger on it though, Miguel usually kept to himself and often didn't try to smile or go out of his way like others might have but there was something about him...was it his eyes? his hair? his face? his voice? You just couldn't name it and it was getting to you.
Time when he'd lean over your shoulder, his chest against your back while he looks over the schedule you've prepared, it had your heart beating, your thighs rubbing together just slightly on instinct and your mind running. You prayed every time in hopes that your cheeks weren't cherry red with the way you thought you were burning up inside and out.
However it all came stock piling one day when you noticed he was acting a bit off, towards the middle of the day, then the sound of shoes clicking against the floor until he comes around.
"Call off my meetings for today alright? Just tell'em I've got business to take care of." Miguel states as he flicks through the pages in his hands.
Your surprised by it, caught of guard really, but you agree, "Yes of course I can do that." You nodded turning in your chair, "Thank you, If any of them give you shit for it just tell them I asked for it directly and they can wait." He nods, "I do not want to be disturbed at all." he insists before heading to his office and shutting the door behind him with a 'Click!'
While your clearing his schedule and putting up a little 'do not disturb' on the office door and shutting it, you hear a noise? like a beep then--
You look and the little red light for the intercom on the phone was blinking, before you could open your mouth to say something, "Where would you be without her O'hara." You hear Miguel exhale slightly as he takes a seat in his chair, you want to speak up but he only continues, "Always so diligent, willing to do anything for you.." He trails off, "And so damn beautiful, that fucking body, the things I would do." Miguel groaned out over the line, your face, your sure by now is a tomato, then the sound of a belt coming undone, "I can finally unwind and let off some of this tension." Then a slight groan and 'Oh fuck..' followed.
The only other noise you could make out that had your face heating up was the sound of his hand pumping his cock slowly.."How long was I going to have to wait in that meeting." His chair creaks as he leans back, "Fucking dammit..images of her bent over this desk..couldn't get rid of them." the sound of his pumping speeds up, butterflies erupt in your stomach and heat pools between your legs. "Too damn perfect, that perfect little skirt riding up, on her perfect little body.." there's a slight pant to Miguel's voice, "My perfect little assistant." The sounds of him pumping his cock pick up even more, your thighs squeeze together instinctively.
"God, your so eager to always fill everyone of my requests," when he goes from 'her' to 'you' as if being direct it makes you jump slight, "Wonder how she'd feel if she knew how hard she got me, if she knew that I knew exactly why she stay's after hours, how she'd feel if I knew why she comes to my office so often.." His words trail off.
Your heart is thumping, "I wonder how she would feel that I know she can hear me over the intercome, Right now." Miguel huffs out, you jump, "Me?" You squeak out slightly, "Yes you, your enjoying this aren't you?" there's a slight teasing lilt to his voice as he asks.
"I didn't know--" "Come on, in all the years you have worked with me, worked for me, when have I ever been that careless?" He asked, your quiet, "No, you know me, I'm careful, calculated." There's a gruff, yet needy undertone. "You've been enjoying listening to me stroke this thick, fat cock huh? Sitting there behind your desk, thighs pressed together, am I wrong?" He asked.
You feel your cheeks grow hotter, your thighs press tighter, he's got you read like a book. "I'm extremely thorough and careful with everything I do and..everyone I do." He practically enunciates the last few words and it sends a slight shiver. 'God' he murmurs, the sound of him fisting his cock growing a bit slow paced as he talks, "I'll be honest, I've been watching the way you act and dress a bit more closer than I ever have-- Fuck," He groans out followed by a few other curses.
"God..If only you could see the precum dripping from this fat tip huh?" Miguel out right teases, enjoying the way he can hear you shifting in your chair, "I'm not displeased with your work, not by a long shot, quite impressed, but..I notice the way your thighs clench together when I lean on the wall beside you or when I place these big hands on your desk, wouldn't you love them holding those thighs open.." He trails off and you can't help but shudder.
He's reveling in this with his heavy breathes and curses as he rubs his cock, "I can see the way your breath picks up when I lean over you, and those wandering eyes..Shit.." He breathes out, "I've noticed the way they seem to travel down when I wear these pants, the way they stare a bit longer..gave me a reason to wear them more often." His pumping picks up, you swallow audibly, "The way you can't help but stare at the imprint of my cock, not even hard and yet you keep an eye on this package hm?" His teasing tone despite him sounding breathless is just so audible.
"But I'm not the only one who's been wearing something often, you've noticed my looks with those short pencil skirts you've been wearing.." Your shifting side to side when he says that, heat pooling, "But tell me, is that skirt still nice and snug around those beautiful thighs or have you hiked it up to make room for these beautiful hands between those thighs?" You couldn’t even think and get the words out. He just chuckled into the other line. “Go on hike the skirt nice and high for me..” Miguel’s voice was low and husky.
You swallow thickly before bringing your skirt hem up and up..”Now move those pretty panties aside.” His voice rings through the receiver, your heart is racing as she move them aside, you practically exhale which earns a chuckle from him. “Getting excited are we? We’re barely even there.” He teases.
“Now, listen carefully hm? Part your soft thighs and pull those panties aside..” he instructed and you followed, “Now rub that sweet little clit of yours.” That was more of an order than an instruction that there wasn’t any hesitation on your end because you went right to it.
The thought, not the *knowledge* that your boss could hear you and was actively guiding you, had you gasping and panting as quietly as you could within in seconds, your fingers working your clit in tight circles, lost in your own little world..meanwhile, Miguel was reveling in this, it had him throbbing and aching hearing all the pretty little noises that were coming from you..
His free hand instinctively working his cock in time, “Listen to yourself…Buen dios…Such pretty sounds they are.” Miguel praised and god it got you so damn good. “Fuck I—-I just..” you gasped, it was making his resolve crack, he wanted to tease and mess with you to the point of where you needed it just as bad as he did.
“Go on, slide those fingers in, come on.” He urged, his voice smooth yet deep, it always sent shivers down your spine. You bit your lip, your hands slowly sliding down further, your middle finger first then your ring finger followed, starting a slow rhythm, in..out..the wet sounds that reached your ears were loud to you because of the way your heart had been filling the quietness with it’s beating in your ears but the noise that replaced it would’ve made you blush if you hadn’t already been.
Then, within a couple minutes, you noticed how quiet Miguel had become and thought maybe he’d been put off and then you really listened, quiet grunts & groans reached your ears through the receiver. The soft ‘schlick’ of him pumping his cock felt so loud even if it really wasn’t.
“I can tell your listening, those pants and moans stopped, tell me do you like what you hear?” He asked with a chuckle , low and breathless. “God of course I do,” you practically whined. Miguel clicked his tongue, “Impatient huh?” He teased you again, “At this point yes I am, and it’s becoming unbearable, my fingers aren’t enough!” You huffed exasperated, then all you heard was quiet.
“Mr. O’Hara?” You asked, “Miguel?” Your tone became curious but also worried before the sound of shoes on the flooring echoed and they were fast steps. Approaching your office fast, the gait, the weight of it, added up into your mind as Miguel. Then the door swung open and your assumption was correct. “Not enough? Well let me assist with that.” Miguel’s words came out gruffer than really intended.
You swallowed thickly softly as you removed your fingers, nodding as he approached you, “Look at you, fucking delicious,” he reached down and took your fingers, bringing them to his lips, before taking them in his mouth, a shudder running down your spine.
Then he pulled them out, licking his lips and leaning in..
“Let me satisfy you today.”
PT 1.
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brittle-doughie · 2 months ago
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So, I was looking back at the endings and imagined a scenario where Y/N Cookie dies/crumbled/collapsed while protecting the TCC trio (much like the same fallen pose for Prune Juice).
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In that case, what would the TCC gang feel after their one and only friend fell at the hands of the GCC?
On the other hand, what would the GCC react if they may have went a bit too far to Y/N Cookie?
(Bonus points if any of the cookies in the audience or even the other teams who were out reacted to that as well.)
Funny, since I pictured some endings with Y/N Cookie from these.
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Dead End 1 - The Ride Home [Fail to convince Y/N Cookie to participate]
“I’m sorry, Cookies. The kingdom has long waited for my return back. We can catch up some other time though!”
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Dead End 2 - Broken Formation [Choose to fight then take the potion]
Y/N Cookie opted to go for the source of the light show, when they get the wind knocked out of them at the front and slashed from behind. They could barely make out their attacks before passing out.
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“You…! What were you doing?!”
“It looks like this one strayed too far from their team…”
“Ah..crumbs…”
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Dead End 3 - Pincushion [Protect Kumiho’s group]
“Vampire, get away!”
You took the full brunt of the attacks that were meant for the Shapeshift Squad, feeling the jabs of steel piece your dough. You felt your attacker gasp as you fall down to the ground, jam tinting your vision as it oozes out of your mouth. You can make out Kumiho’s shriek as she ran to you.
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“Y/N COOKIE!”
“You..you were not supposed to…”
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“Come on, don’t just stand there. Get help!”
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Dead End 4 - Mutual Destruction [Reject Pudding A La Mode Cookie]
“What? No, I won’t go with you! You just tried to put my team in danger!”
“…What?”
“You heard me, I’m not going along with a cookie that nearly caused my friends to get hurt!”
“But…I always get sweets! You’re not going anywhere!”
“Says you, I’m going to help my friends. Do better.”
You turn to head back to the group when you felt a grip on your wrist from behind, a strong grip…
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“That…was not sweet AT ALL!”
“What the?! Let go!”
“Never! I…I always get the sweets that I want! And if I can’t have you, NOBODY WILL!”
PALM Cookie suddenly hugged you as her space buns on the sides of her head turn red as a loud beeping sound is heard!
“Activating destruction sequence! 5..4..3”
“WHAT?! GET HER OFF, GET HER OFF!”
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“This is bad, we have to get her off of them!”
“But the countdown is too short, we won’t make it!”
“No! Y/N Cookie!”
“..2…1!”
*BOOM!*
The arena was now blanketed in darkness….
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