#beep beep has mutuals

[beepbeepdespair]

a summary of my bugsnax thoughts at the moment (NO SPOILERS PLEASE) featuring @emiwith2braincells

[beepathan]

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

[pucksandpower]

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

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.

[lilacgaby]

i guess i'm stuck forever by the glue,

oh, and you.

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.

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.

[kingtomura]

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!

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.

[thefreakandthehair]

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.”

[beepbeepdespair]

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

[beepbeepdespair]

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 :)

[calumfmu]

all in your head, but I want nonfiction.

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.’

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.

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.

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

[wroteclassicaly]

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.

[monarchberrysblog]

📄 — xx.emo_boy.exe (early y2k au)

now presenting…

⛓️🩷 kinktober | week three → dry humping and mutual masturbation

🖤 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 📀

Dedicated to @opaloharas and @miguelhugger2099, to my cuties. Thank you for the inspo and y'all deserve some mandarinas 🍊

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.)

“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.

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.

tag list:

@hyjionie @zaunsin @kavimoo @keiva1000

[joelmillerisapunk]

Beach Daddy V. Stay

daddy!joel miller x f!reader

series masterlist • masterlist

wordcount: 15,628

summary: You find yourself caught in a whirlwind of passion and scandal with Joel, while a mysterious blackmailer threatens to expose your secret romance. And other drama.

warnings: 18+, age gap, just the tip unprotected 👀, dramaaaa, sweet bby Reggie 😘

notes: But that gif (from pinterest tysm to Whomever the Creator is) is exactly how Joel looks when he steps out of his car, searching. ty @saradika-graphics as always for the divider

Standing in his bedroom, after your confession to him about Todd being your ex, Joel kisses you.

He's gentle at first. Then, before you know it, you're locked together, his tongue gently teasing you to open your mouth until your lips part, and he pushes between your lips with an urgency that has your skin tingling and your core lighting on fire. His fingers set the skin of your cheek ablaze.

Your heart drums in your chest at the anticipation in the air at your closeness. You are so close that you can almost feel the sharp edges of his stubble that has dusted his face as the day grows to a close. Releasing your lips, he whispers, “I can't imagine not knowing you, darlin'.” His breath is warm against your lips. The small vibrations send waves of energy through your entire body. Goosebumps prickle your arms. The sweet smell of cinnamon on his breath, and his sandalwood cologne, mingle perfectly together.

The sensation is too much for you to bear, so you close your eyes, letting Joel take over, as you try desperately to etch every second of the moment into your memory. “I can't imagine not knowing you either, Joel,” you say breathlessly, your eyelashes fluttering with anticipation.

He presses his lips softly to yours, the heat of your lips combining. The warmth spreads through your entire body, even to your bare feet against the cold tile floor. As softly as it started, you want to feel the pressure of his strong arms around you, crushing you against his muscled torso. You lean into Joel's chest, his muscles so tight they are unmoving. He responds to you by sliding his hand up your back and pressing you to him. His lips match the sudden intensity, and you part yours, and he pulls your bottom lip between his. You hold back a moan as he softly bites your bottom lip, but you can't help your hand making their way into Joel's hair. As your fingers slip through the softness of his perfectly styled locks, the scent of sandalwood intensifies.

Before you can register the change, Joel's hand, which had started out on the side of your face, is cradling under your butt, and Joel pulls you even closer to him. You feel the thumping of his chest as your body rests against his, and you deepen your kiss. You can feel the hardness of him between your legs and pull yourself closer, unable to keep your body from satisfying your craving for him.

Time feels as though it stands still as Joel holds you to him, your hands lost in his hair. Just as quickly as it had all started, the moment shatters. His cell phone beeping is deafening against the silence of the room and breaks you out of your entangled trance. Your feet hit the floor, the cold tile shocking you back to reality. You both stand there for a moment, breathing hard, your hearts racing as you try to come back to reality.

“Darlin', I am so sorry. I lost control of myself for a second,” Joel says. 

You wish he'd lose control more often.

You touch your hand to your mouth, where his lips had just been. You ache at the absence of him. He runs his hands through his already mussed hair and takes a few steps back from you. “That's okay,” you say, trying desperately to catch your breath. It takes all you have not to run back into his arms. Doesn't he sense that the feeling is mutual? You want him just as badly as he wants you. Maybe more so.

“Let me turn this off so we can talk-” Joel's face falls as he takes his phone from his pocket and reads the text message on the screen.

“Is everything okay?” you ask, watching the worry lines reappear between Joel's eyebrows.

“I’m so sorry. I have to deal with this,” he says, swiping his finger across the screen.

“I will leave you to it,” you say, walking toward the door. You need to be alone to understand what has just happened between you anyway.

What have you just done with your friend's dad?

“We will talk about this, about us, I promise,” Joel says, looking longingly into your eyes before turning back to his phone. “Bruce, what did you find out?” Joel says into the phone. That is your cue to leave.

You silently pick up your shoes next to the door and slip out into the hallway. You close the door softly, silently clicking the latch into place. You lean against Joel's door, listening to his muffled voice as he talks on the phone. Even through the door, you can tell that whatever the news is, it isn't good. Laughter sounds at the opposite end of the hall. Knowing what it would look like to come out of Joel's room, shoes in hand, you retreat away from his room and the approaching voices. The last thing you need is for Sarah to think you have slept with her father. 

Your feet patter against the marble flooring in the hallway. You consider going back to your room, but you know you won't be able to sleep after the kisses you've just shared with Joel. You feel like you need to make an appearance back at the party before Sarah notices your absence at the same time that her father is gone. However, you can't seem to catch your breath, so you walk as slowly as possible back to the kitchen. You stand for a long time, watching people laughing, dancing, and raising their drinks in silent speeches you can't hear. Your mind is still too caught up in what has happened with Joel.

Eventually, you open one of the kitchen doors to the back patio, and the engagement party is still in full swing. Clearly, no one has noticed Joel and you heading into the house together. You are thankful for that, at least. You should've known you wouldn't be missed by this crowd. You spot Todd with Sarah and make sure you are out of their eyesight quickly. You grab a glass of champagne and lean against the wall by the pool looking out at the ocean. It feels like you can still feel the tingle of Joel's lips against yours. You feel good, despite the toxic situation with Todd. Joel is clearly as attracted to you as you are to him. You replay your kiss over and over in your mind. You still can't believe it's happened. Finally.

But then, what does this all mean? You still have so many questions…

You finish your drink and set the empty glass on a table, turning to walk toward the kitchen when you hear someone yell.

“Cannonball!”

A man with long brown hair splashes into the infinity pool, soaking you in the process. You watch the ripples disturb the surface of the pool and water spill out the edges. You leave quickly, before the man reemerges and retreat back inside as a wave of laughter hits your back.

“Is this whole trip taking every opportunity to slap me in the face?” you mumble to yourself, taking off your heels again as you head for the stairs. You leave a dripping trail of water all the way to your room. You can't help but remember walking into AmoreBelle in a similar state when Joel had bought you the dress in the first place.

You hang your cocktail dress to dry in the shower, hoping that it isn't ruined. Maybe you will send it to the dry cleaners when you return to New York. You have no idea how to care for a dress so nice. You know if you try to clean it yourself, you are sure to ruin it.  The smell of chlorine that clings to your skin nudges you toward the pedestal bathtub at the far end of the bathroom. You turn on the tap and let the steam from the hot water fill the room. You grab a glass of water and turn on some music. Slipping inside the warm embrace of the water, you are instantly taken back to the heat of Joel's body pressed to yours. Your lips press delicately against his. The feel of your body wound tightly around his. The way he smelled. He was intoxicating. You can't believe you've just kissed Joel. You've thought about it a few dozen times, always talking yourself out of it because he is your friend's father, but no amount of imagination could compare to those few blissful minutes. He was so much more than you'd imagined.

A text flashes on your phone, which you've set on a towel next to the tub. You dry your hands and pick up your phone to find a text from Lin waiting for you.

Lin: There was a last-minute cancellation on a flight out tomorrow. Do you want us to change your booking for you? I can still meet you at the airport to pick you up. Let us know ASAP.

This afternoon you would have texted Lin back instantly, begging for her to get you on the soonest flight out of here. However, that was before your shared moment with Joel. Even with Todd being here and constantly trying to get you to sleep with him, you don't know if you want to leave. “What would he think if I jetted off the day after we kissed?” you ask the ceiling of the bathroom.

You sink lower, covering half of your face in the warm water. The water has completely cooled when you've finally made up your mind. You drain it out of the tub, and with pruny fingers, type out a response to Lin.

You: I need one more day. Something big happened. I will explain everything when I get back. See you in two days.

You can't leave yet. You've just let Joel know how much he's come to mean to you. How can you leave now? You've wanted this for longer than you've let yourself admit. You've wanted this since the first time you saw him. You have to see Joel one more time before you leave. If you leave now, you'll never know what might happen between you. You're not willing to risk that, not to escape Todd or Sarah's wealthy friends. You have to talk to Joel; you have to know what this is.

"Bruce. What did you find out?" Joel asks the head of his security team, his voice betraying none of the turmoil he feels inside.

"We have reason to believe that Blaine knows your current location in the Bahamas, sir," Bruce's voice echoes on the other end of the phone.

Joel looks up when the door clicks shut; you've slipped away during his eagerness to call Bruce. He feels like a complete ass. He kissed you, and then, mere seconds later, he was on the phone, his attention elsewhere.

"Sir?" Bruce's voice pulls Joel back to the present.

"I'm sorry, Bruce. What did you say?"

"We are worried about your security measures in the Bahamas. You have no one with you from the team. Please tell me you have been activating the security system we had installed."

Joel has completely forgotten about the security system in the rush of preparing for Sarah's engagement party. He'll have to remember to set that after they get off the phone.

"How do you know that Blaine knows where we are?" Joel asks, his mind already racing with the implications.

Seconds later, his phone buzzes against his ear. Joel puts Bruce on speaker so that he can read the incoming messages. He's sent him multiple screenshots of Sarah's social media pages. There are at least ten posts in the last three days, all pictures of her on the beach or lounging out on the yacht. In the last message is a picture of the Bahama beach house with the caption "Engagement Party at Daddy's!"

"Shit," Joel mutters under his breath.

"She has been documenting her every move, and in turn, documenting yours as well."

"I should have known she would be posting. She never stops."

"It would be wise, sir, to advise your daughter to stop posting, at least for the time being."

"That, unfortunately, won’t happen. Sarah has made social media her career. She will never agree to stop posting."

"Even if it is putting you and your entire family at risk?"

"She doesn't know about Blaine, and it's going to stay that way," Joel says bluntly.

"Of course, sir."

"What do you suggest I do?" Joel asks, his mind already half-focused on finding you.

"Is it possible to head to a new destination? We may have caught this early enough that you can leave before Blaine finds a way to get to the Bahamas."

"I’ll see what I can do. I likely won't be able to make that kind of arrangement, though. I have a house full of guests at the moment."

"I understand, sir. Should I send a few members of my team to you?"

"I really don't think that is necessary," Joel says, hating the idea of having any of his bodyguards follow him everywhere while he's on vacation. He gets enough of that at home. He also selfishly knows that he and you likely wouldn't get another moment alone if he agreed.

"I wish you'd let us send someone out just to watch the perimeter at least," Bruce says with a sigh. "I'm just a call away if you change your mind. I'll have some of my men on standby."

"Thank you, Bruce. I will let you know." Joel hangs up the phone and resumes pacing his bedroom. It feels excruciatingly empty after you left. He starts to make his way towards the door to go and find you when his phone rings again.

"Alester," he says, answering the call.

"Good evening, sir. I am so sorry to bother you during your daughter's engagement party," Alester says.

"Alester, you know I am never too busy to talk to you," Joel says with a laugh. No one knows better than Alester just how much of a lie that is. He is always too busy.

"I just got off the phone with the security team. Have you talked with Bruce yet?"

"Yes, I actually just got off the phone with him."

"Oh, good, then you probably know more than I do. I just wanted to call and assure you that your accounts have all been secured. I also went over your father's will again with a fine tooth comb, and it is just as I expected, airtight."

"Thank you, Alester. That brings me a lot of peace of mind."

"Just be careful, Joel. It sounds like Blaine will stop at nothing to bring down the Millers."

"Honestly, it would be a waste for him to come here. I have nothing on me of any value to him. He would be smarter to wait until I am back in New York. If he does show up here, there is nothing he can take from me."

"Just be careful, sir. If Blaine realizes that he won't be able to get money, he will likely go after something else."

"What could he possibly go after, other than my money?" Joel asks, curious as to what Alester is referring to.

"Your reputation," Alester says with obvious anxiety in his voice.

"You make a good point, Alester. This is exactly why I depend on you so much. I will be on high alert."

"Take care, Joel."

Joel hangs up the phone and tosses it onto his bed, not wanting to deal with anything more for the rest of the night. The soft thump of the phone on the mattress breaks the silence of the very empty room.

The realization that you had left, and that he had let you, hits him in the stomach. Joel places his palms over his eyes, and the first thing that comes to mind is you and your kiss. The memory of your eyelids as they delicately fluttered shut right before his lips met yours. He can almost feel the heat of your body pressed up against his and the perfect curve of your ass as he pulled you up to him. He needs to find you. You'd told him your truth about Todd, and now it was his turn to tell you his truth. He needs to explain that it was his bastard brother who ruined their moment.

Your touch must have addled his brain; it was the only logical explanation he could find as to why he would let you walk out of his room. How could he have let you walk away, especially after a kiss like that? Joel is desperate to find you and makes his way out of his room and down the hallway, even knowing his hair is in a state of disarray. He can't waste time fixing it; he also doesn't want to mess with your handiwork.

He makes his way back to the party, hoping that you had come back there. He scans the sea of drunken people, searching for you. A flash of red gets his hopes up, but they quickly fall as the woman turns around. The red-haired woman does not hold a candle to you.

"Daddy!" Sarah squeals, catching sight of him.

"Sarah, sweetheart. Are you having a nice time?" Joel says as he tries to seem as interested as he can. Even though he is desperate to cut the conversation short and find you. He knows the longer he lets their moment pass, the harder it will be to get it back.

"It is absolutely amazing, Daddy. Have you tried the Sarah lemon drop?" she asks, but she shoves a drink into his hand, not waiting for his response. The next thing he knows she is hitting the side of his glass with a fork, getting the crowd's attention. "My Daddy, who was sweet enough to throw this amazing party for me and my fiance, would like to give a speech in our honor," Sarah says, her voice raised to the entire crowd.

Nothing quite like being put on the spot. However, Joel knows that if Sarah wants it, she will stop at nothing to get it. He can't help but wonder if his daughter had purposely set her sights on Todd, knowing he was not single. Sadly, he knows better than to think she isn't capable of such a thing.

"Thank you, Sarah, for that wonderful introduction. I would like to welcome you all to my home and thank you for taking the time to celebrate my beautiful daughter and her future husband," Joel says, holding his glass up to the couple, and the crowd follows, raising their drinks too. He can't think of anything complimentary to say about Todd, so he decides to focus on the good aspects of his daughter's character. However, that proves to be more difficult than he had originally thought. "Sarah has always known how to get exactly what she wants." Shit, that sounded harsh. "So I know that because she has put her heart into having a happy marriage, that is exactly what will happen for her. I wish all the best to my one and only daughter." The crowd claps at the wrap-up of his speech, and Joel hopes he has pulled it off without upsetting Sarah.

"Thank you, Daddy!" Sarah says, pecking a small kiss on his cheek. He guesses he hadn't blundered too badly.

"Where is Todd?" Joel asks Sarah, surprised to see that he is not by her side.

"Oh, I'm not sure. I've been having so much fun, I lost track of him," Sarah says with a shrug, not seeming worried.

"Well, let me know if you need anything, sweetheart, but I think I’m going to turn in for the night. I'm not young enough to keep up with you and your friends."

"One more thing before you go. We need to discuss the budget for my wedding. I need to contact this wedding dress designer if I am going to get one of their dresses in time, but it is a fifty-thousand dollar deposit to hold my spot."

Not wanting to get into a conversation about wedding budgets when he desperately needs to find you, Joel tells Sarah, "Whatever you need, honey."

Sarah squeals her usual high-pitched, bird-scaring squeak, "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"

"We can discuss the details later," Joel says and walks back inside. He looks around and is relieved that the house seems to be empty, so he makes his way up to the second floor and your door.

He knocks quietly, but there is no response.

"Damn it," Joel says, fearing you are ignoring him on purpose.

He presses his ear to the door and hears running water, and he guesses that you are taking a bath. He wishes he could be in there with you, feeling your naked body against his. He sighs and pulls out a piece of gum, popping it in his mouth and pulling a pen out of the inside pocket of his jacket.

On the small bit of hope that you aren't ignoring him but simply can't hear him, Joel writes a note on the gum wrapper and slips it under your door.

I can't stop thinking about you or that kiss. I will find you tomorrow, so we can talk.

-J.

You wake up on top of the king-sized bed in your cotton robe, having apparently fallen asleep right after getting out of the tub the night before. You didn't even make it under the covers. Your stomach growls, prompting you to get up and pull yourself together.

After applying some light makeup, you select a strappy sundress from your new vacation wardrobe and head for the door. Your bare feet come into contact with a slip of paper someone has slid under your door at some point during the night. Even without recognizing the neat handwriting from his previous note, you know it's from Joel. You can't help but smile at the thought of being on his mind. You carefully place the note with the other and the small pink seashell before making your way down to the kitchen.

The house is completely silent; everyone is probably still in bed, nursing a hangover. You're glad that you'll get to spend the morning by yourself. It gives you plenty of time to wrap your head around your own feelings. You quietly navigate the kitchen and make yourself an omelet. It feels nice to fend for yourself for a meal rather than having it brought to you on a silver platter. While some aspects of this life are extremely appealing, there's something fulfilling about making your own meal. You plate the omelet and find a quiet spot on the patio to watch the waves as you enjoy your breakfast in silence. As you take the last bite, you hear a clatter of moving dishes behind you, signaling that others are up, so you leave your plate and walk towards the private beach. You've already explored your way down toward the gazebo, so you decide to venture in the opposite direction instead. The chirps of birds are your only company on your walk down the beach, and slowly the sand leads you to a secluded cove surrounded by pine trees and rocky ledges.

The water is still and so clear you can see the schools of brightly colored fish swimming beneath the surface. You wade into the water to your ankles, but on a whim, you take a quick look around to make sure you're alone before slipping the dress from your shoulders and throwing it onto the dry sand, followed by your lace bra and panties. You slip slowly under the water's surface, and the fish scatter around you. You swim lazily through the water, daydreaming about Joel. You can't wait to talk to him later, and hopefully to kiss him again.

"You're braver than you look."

You jump and move to cover yourself before realizing who it is. Joel stands on the beach watching you tread water, clearly enjoying the view.

"What are you doing here? I thought I was alone," you say, trying your best to hide yourself under the water.

"I saw footsteps in the sand on the beach; I assumed you would be the only one up already. So I took a chance and followed them. I didn't expect to find you like this, though," Joel says with a small laugh and a mischievous grin.

He turns around to give you privacy, likely thinking you'll get out of the water and get dressed. Instead, you swim up to where he stands at the edge of the water and splash him. He leaps forward and turns around again, a smile finding his lips.

"Are you going to be brave?" you taunt, not knowing what's gotten into you that day. You swim backward, daring him to come after you.

Joel slowly unbuttons his shirt and slips off his perfectly fitting shorts until he's standing there with nothing on but the wind at his back. You can't help but stare at him standing naked on the shore. He follows you into the water, although less gracefully.

"What did you want to talk about?" you ask as Joel stops a few feet from you, treading water. It's hard to keep your eyes on his face and not let them wander down to his manhood.

"I wanted to apologize for the way I ruined last night," Joel says.

"What do you mean ruined? I was just hoping everything was alright. I saw the worry on your face. Something big must have happened."

"Wow, I did not expect you to react that way. What do you mean you could see the worry on my face? Am I that transparent?"

"No, I don't think you are transparent. I just noticed the crease you get between your eyebrows when you're worried. You got the same one when you were asking me about my past with…" You trail off, not wanting to bring up your ex at this moment. Joel takes the cue and does not push the matter any further, gracefully changing the subject.

"I'm glad I didn't ruin everything," Joel says softly, looking at you. He looks at you with unadulterated desire.

"Why is that?" you ask.

"Because if I did, I wouldn't be able to kiss you again."

Joel smiles and inches closer to you in the water. You can't help but notice his eyes roaming up and down your body.

"Should we, though?"

"Do you have a reason we shouldn't?" Joel asks, the crease between his eyebrows appearing again. He stops just short of touching you, but you feel like you can still feel him. The current between you is electric.

"What about Sarah?" you say, trying to keep control of yourself. Just being this close to him, naked, makes you feel breathless and excited.

“You only need to worry about what you want. It shouldn't matter to Sarah what happens between us, and if it does, I will handle it."

You take a deep breath and look at Joel's questioning eyes. You know he's right. You always worry more about other people's happiness than your own. At some point, you're going to have to choose you. Aubrey and Lin have sent so many text messages telling you to go for it with Joel. They obviously don't think it's a problem to date Sarah's dad. So why should you?

"I want you to kiss me again," you say shyly. "I want… more. I want you."

Joel closes the distance between you and pulls you into him. Your naked bodies connect under the water, and the smoothness of your skin together electrifies the water around you. The softness from the kiss the night before has all but faded into the passionate urgency of your kisses in the water. You wrap your legs around his waist, loving the way your bare bodies feel against each other.

Joel moves from kissing your mouth to kissing down your neck. You can feel his desire, hard against your leg, and you can't deny that you want him just as badly.

"Are you sure you want this?" Joel pants between kisses on your neck, moving back up toward your mouth.

"Yes, Joel, don't stop." you moan in a breathless whisper.

"Do you still want more?" His voice catches in his throat, and you can hear the longing in each word.

"Yes," you whisper into Joel's ear before biting it gently.

Just as you start to feel him slipping inside you, a tree branch cracks, snapping your attention to a man holding a camera pointed directly at you. You grab onto Joel and say urgently, "Joel, there's a man taking pictures of us!"

Joel turns his head, clearly seeing the man with the camera. "Shit! Stay behind me. I'll get you out of this."

Joel uses his body to cover yours, and you bury your face into his neck, praying the man hasn't already gotten a picture of your face. Joel swims for a group of rocks, hiding you both behind them.

"You stay right here, and I will go handle this," Joel says.

You latch onto one of the rocks, and Joel, sliding on his shorts, takes off in the cameraman's direction. They both disappear from your view in the dense vegetation and palm trees. Hot tears stream down your face, mixing with the salt water. You swim over to the beach and slip your dress back on before the cameraman can return. The fabric clings to your still-wet body, a feeling you absolutely hate. However, the feeling of safety the dress brings you is worth being uncomfortable. How could you have forgotten that Joel is not only your friend's dad but he is also, in his own right, a famous businessman? It's easy to forget that the man is worth billions because he is so kind and generous, especially toward you. As your heart slows, your stomach rolls with dread. That man was likely with a magazine that would publish those pictures for the entire world to see. Pictures of you about to have sex with Sarah's dad. You can already imagine the headlines and articles that would follow the scandalous pictures. There would be no way to face Sarah after she saw pictures of you naked and kissing her father. If your identity got out, you could possibly lose your spot at Harvard, and you could kiss the job at the law firm goodbye too.

You finish getting dressed and then walk back to the mansion on your own, knowing you can't face Joel after the trouble you've just caused. You'll lock yourself in your room until you can sneak away to your flight tomorrow.

You keep looking over your shoulder and scanning the surrounding areas for people as you walk back. Once in your room, you lean your back against the door. You and Joel had almost had sex. You smile to yourself, no longer trying to deny how good he makes you feel. The thought of facing him after this scares you, but you desperately want to finish what you've started. You slide your dress off and get in the shower to wash off the sand, then snuggle into the robe Joel gave you, drinking in his scent. You just wish things could have ended differently between Joel and you. If that was the only time you were ever going to be in his arms, you don't want it to be tainted by the intruder with the camera. You want to remember the two of you together, wrapped in each other's arms, focusing on how amazing you make each other feel. Hot tears slide down your cheeks. You'd known this was a bad idea, that you shouldn't get involved with your friend's dad, even if Sarah wasn't the nicest person, even if she was unknowingly marrying your ex.

Going home can't erase what you've already done, but it can prevent anything worse from happening. You'll miss Joel, but leaving is for the best. You know that now - for certain.

Your eyes burn from all the crying you did the night before. You've spent the whole day in your room, and you've barely slept, worrying about how many magazines will have the picture of you and Joel on the cover tomorrow and thinking about your decision to leave. You just hope you'll be able to make it home before the media catches hold of the story. You want to be as far away from Sarah as possible when she gets ahold of the picture.

You text Lin, telling her to confirm the flight for the next day, and you wonder how you'll even get there. Flying commercial means you can't use the private airstrip. Maybe Reggie will be able to help you. Or Brenna. Now more than ever, you want to escape this vacation. You've gone to the bathroom and started the shower, filling the room with steam, when you hear urgent knocking on your door. Your heart sinks, knowing Joel would never knock so frantically on your door; the only other person it could be is Sarah. She must have already seen the picture. You turn off the shower and wrap yourself in your robe before taking your death march to the door. You swing it open to find Sarah standing there with mascara-stained tears running down each cheek.

"Hey," Sarah sobs and cups her mouth with one of her hands.

"Sarah, I am…" But before you can start apologizing, Sarah wraps you in a hug and starts crying into your shoulder. You stand there, stunned and confused.

You figure Sarah has come up here to kick you out of her father's house and end your friendship. After a few seconds, you wrap your arms around her and pat her back.

"Sarah, what is going on?" you ask, still confused but selfishly relieved.

"I caught Todd with another woman last night!" Sarah gasps, her body shaking with sobs.

"Oh, Sarah," you say in a sympathetic tone. You want to call Todd every horrible name you can think of, but you know that won't help right now. That comes later in the breakup, as you're all too familiar with because of Todd. 

You pull back from Sarah, and with your arm around her shoulder, lead her to one of the small couches in the room's sitting area. You pull out your phone and send a quick text to the maid, Brenna.

You: SOS! Sarah is having a breakdown in my room. Could you have someone send up some coffee (for me) and tissues (for Sarah)?

Brenna: On it! I'll be there soon. Hang in there.

"Who are you texting? I need your undivided attention right now!" Sarah says, shooting you a dirty look.

"I texted one of the maids; I'm having her bring up some stuff for you," you say, trying to stay calm at Sarah's outburst at you. It's probably just because she's so upset.

"Oh, that's fine, I guess."

"Sarah, tell me what happened," you say.

"Last night, Todd didn't come back to our room. I was worried about him, so I started looking through the entire house for him. I couldn't find him anywhere, so I went outside, figuring he might have gone for a walk on the beach to calm down after our fight."

"What did you two fight about?"

"Well, the first day we got here, I picked up his phone while he was in the shower, and he had a text from an unknown number. The text said, 'I miss you.'"

"Sarah, that could have been from someone in his family," you say. You can't believe you're standing up for Todd. You know exactly the kind of man he is, but seeing Sarah so upset makes you want to protect her feelings.

"That's what I figured until he got out of the shower. He saw me holding his phone and got super defensive about it. Last night, I brought it up again because we never actually got to the bottom of it because he distracted me by biting my…"

"Anyway!" you interrupt, not wanting to hear where that story is going to go.

"Anyway, we fought about it again last night. He told me I was being paranoid," Sarah says with a big sniff.

Just in time, a knock sounds on your door, and you rush to get it. Brenna carries in a tray with a pot of coffee, two mugs, some expensive-looking tissues, and a box of chocolates. That Brenna is a smart one. You quietly thank her, and she nods, smiling at you as if to say, 'good luck.' You hand Sarah a tissue, and she dabs at her dripping nose.

"I'm sorry. Look at me; I'm a mess."

"Don't worry about it, Sarah; we can get you cleaned up after you feel better."

You pour a cup of coffee and hand it to Sarah. "What did you say when he told you you were being paranoid?" you ask.

"I told him I had every right to be paranoid with the way he was acting, but then I took it too far and said I should have known he would cheat again."

"What?!" You're about to take a sip of your own coffee, but you hold it frozen in midair.

"Oh, he hasn't cheated on me before," Sarah says, not understanding why her statement shocks you.

"He had some girlfriend when we met, and it took him a while after we started sleeping together for him to end it finally. Anyway, so I went outside to look for him and found him rolling around in the sand with some girl."

"You can't be serious," you say, and the edges of your vision turn red.

"I am serious; I was horrified. She wasn't even that pretty! You could totally tell her boobs were fake."

"No, Sarah, not that, you knew he had a girlfriend, and you hooked up with him anyway?"

"I am not the bad guy here; that slut on the beach is! Whose friend are you anyway?" Sarah says angrily.

"I thought you were my friend, Sarah." The words are coming out of your mouth before you can stop them. "It was me that Todd was cheating on!" you yell, letting the secret finally slip out.

Sarah stares at you in disbelief and then starts laughing. "Todd would never date someone like you," she says, still giggling through her tears.

It seems like she really thinks you're telling a joke, but her responding by putting you down is infuriating. "What the hell is that supposed to mean, Sarah? We dated for three years, so he must have been attracted to me at one point," you say defensively.

"I know you are trying to cheer me up, girl, but I need real advice right now, not just laughs."

"I am not lying to you, Sarah," you say and pull out your phone, swiping through countless pictures of Todd and you when you were happy, or at least when you thought you were happy. You show Sarah a picture of Todd and you at a coffee shop in New York, and Todd is kissing you on the cheek.

"Oh, my God -"

"I told you, Sarah, we really did date for three years. Todd is a cheater. Trust me, I know breakups are hard, but you are going to be so much better off without him."

"I never said anything about breaking up with him," Sarah says. You're surprised that she's now the one being defensive.

"Sarah, you just caught him fucking with another woman, and you're going to stay with him."

"I am not leaving him for a little slip-up," she responds. Your mouth drops open. You can't believe that she considers cheating just a slip-up. "I can't believe Todd would stoop so low." Sarah stands and looks out the windows after glancing at you with contempt.

"Exactly what I was saying. He isn't worth it." You say, relieved that Sarah is coming around.

"No, I can't believe he stooped so low by dating you. He is completely out of your league." Sarah turns to look at you; anger etched in her features.

"Ouch, Sarah. I know you’re hurting, but I am just trying to help. You don't have to take your anger at Todd out on me," you say.

"Well, you're not helping. You are a complete embarrassment. I don't need a reminder of my fiance's poor judgment hanging around. I think it would be best if you left. You've been such a bummer the whole time anyway."

"Get out of my room," you say in a low voice. It takes everything you have not to scream at her. Your hands are trembling with anger.

"This is my dad's house. You are the one who needs to leave," she crosses her arms as though she's planning on waiting for you to pack your bags.

You stand up and glare daggers at her. "Get the fuck out of my room!"

"Fine, but I want you gone. I don't want to see you ever again!" Sarah quickly makes her way across the room.

"The feeling is mutual!" you shout, and Sarah slams the door closed. The tears start flowing again. You've cried on this trip more than you have in your entire college career, except for maybe when Todd first cheated on you, and that was really saying something. You're going to need some serious therapy for what was supposed to be a relaxing vacation.

You go back to the shower and let the water wash away the tears. You get out and are surprised that Sarah has not sent her mother upstairs to attempt to kick you out. You throw on a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt. Then, you wheel your suitcase out of the closet and throw it onto your bed. With a lack of energy, you shove everything you have with you into the empty container haphazardly.

You take one last look around the beautiful bedroom and out at the amazing view of the ocean. It's a shame that you didn't get to enjoy the balcony off of your bedroom. This entire vacation ended up being more trouble than it was worth, except for Joel. You would have done it all over again, just to spend more time with him.

You slip his two notes into your back pocket and hold the little pink shell in your palm, not wanting to let go. Not wanting to let Joel go. You set the little pink shell back on the nightstand. You hope he'll find it and know what he meant to you on this trip.

The wheels of your suitcase get stuck in the gravel at the end of the driveway. You sigh and pull harder, having no idea how you're going to get to the airport from here. The suitcase is too heavy; it's crammed full of all the clothes Joel bought for you.

You realize you haven't thought your escape plan through. You didn't want to do the messy goodbyes with anyone in the house, and you figured you would be able to find a taxi eventually, but your first priority is to get as far away from the mansion as possible.

However, it seems you're going to be stuck at the end of the driveway forever.

The crunching gravel surprises you, and you turn around; just as a black Cadillac pulls up in front of you. The window rolls down, and you're relieved to see Reggie sitting in the driver's seat.

“What are you doing?” Reggie asks you as he takes off his sunglasses. He looks so confused at you standing there, suitcase stuck in the rocks.

“Um. I'm trying to get to the airport. I have a flight in a couple of hours,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. You don't want to tell him the truth, but you figure it's better to be upfront with him. Besides, he's one of the few people at the house you know for certain you can trust. And  he obviously has a car.

“Did you plan on walking all the way there?” he asks through the window.

“Maybe not my best idea,” you say and look back at the mansion. You hope no one is watching. You have to have the record for the worst escape attempt. “I was hoping to catch a cab or something, but I'm guessing this isn't the best place for that.” You look around and don't see or hear another vehicle.

Reggie gets out of the car and comes around to you. He grabs your bag without another word and puts it in the trunk. He returns to open the passenger door for you. “Well, I'm not letting you walk. Get in; I'll drive you,” Reggie says with a crestfallen smile.

You hesitate, not sure what his expression is meant to convey. Should you just try your luck with a cab after all?

Seeing your lack of commitment, Reggie grabs your hand to help you into the car. Finally accepting the situation, you slide into the passenger seat and feel your body sink into the expensive leather. You're starting to understand how people could get used to this amount of luxury in their daily lives. But you can't get used to it–you're leaving. Who knows when you might experience this type of lifestyle again? Not until you earn it for yourself as a lawyer, most likely.

Reggie closes the door behind you and returns to the driver's side, and starts down the narrow, winding driveway. You can't help but look back for one last time at the colonial-style mansion. In a few days, you're sure it will feel like a dream that you were ever here at all. “Why didn't you just ask for a ride to the airport? Joel would have sent for a car; he probably would have even driven you himself.” Reggie's tone is more questioning than it would've been if he didn't have a hint that something was going on between Joel and you.

“I didn't want to bother anyone.” That's the truth–more or less.

“You couldn't possibly bother anyone.”

You sit in silence as you pass rows of beautiful mansions along the shore. You keep seeing Reggie glance at you out of the corner of his eye. You know he's wondering why you're leaving so hastily. As you drive further inland, the mansions get smaller and smaller until they turn into charming bungalows. Each bungalow is painted in a pop of color.

“When you say you didn't want to bother anyone, you really meant you didn't want to say goodbye, didn't you?”

“How did you know?” you ask, surprised he's picked up on that.

“You seem upset, and the fact that you were so ready to leave that you were going to drag your suitcase all the way to the airport. I just put two and two together.”

“You're right; I didn't want to say goodbye.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Reggie asks, looking over at you directly this time as you come to a stop at an intersection.

“Not really. Sarah and I just got into a fight. She told me she wanted me out of the house.”

“Oh, I thought it might have something to do with you and Joel,” Reggie says as the car accelerates again.

You don't know how to respond to Reggie, so you opt to say nothing instead. The truth is, you don't know how to say goodbye to Joel after all that's happened. How do you thank someone for a beautiful vacation, stolen moments of happiness, and a whirlwind romance while also apologizing for causing a scandal? You ride the rest of the short drive without talking more. You're thankful that Reggie doesn't press you for more answers. And you find you can't stop daydreaming about Joel. You want to kiss him again and finish what you'd started in the water that day. You know you shouldn't, and that you probably won't get the chance. But that doesn't stop the longing one bit.

You pull up to the airport, which is tiny. You guessed you should have expected it to be small, considering you're on an island. Reggie gets out and gets your bag for you. You stand awkwardly on the sidewalk next to the car. “Thank you for driving me, and thank you for being a friend to me,” you say as Reggie hands you the handle of your bag.

“I hope you really mean that. I would consider myself lucky to be counted as one of your friends.”

You lean over and give Reggie a small hug, “I really mean it, Reggie.”

He grabs your hand before you pull away, leaving a business card in your palm. “Please reach out if you need anything from me. We will all be back in New York again in a few weeks. I would love to see you when we make it back,” he says, with a puppy dog look in his eyes.

You nod and put Reggie's business card in your back pocket, next to Joel's notes. You give Reggie a small wave and turn away from him as you walk into the airport. Why couldn't you have fallen for someone like Reggie? That would have made the whole trip a lot less complicated.

After going through security, you look at the time on your phone; you have a whole hour to fill before your flight leaves, and there isn't much to do in such a tiny airport. You slip a crumpled bill into the vending machine and select a lemon-lime soda. It isn't quite the same as getting a latte from an airport cafe, but it will have to do. You select a hard plastic chair next to the terminal and pull out your phone to wait.

You: I made it to the airport! It is absolutely tiny. I have about an hour until my flight leaves, and then three more on the plane. I can't wait to be back home.

Lin: I will be there to pick you up when you land.

Aubrey: We can't wait to see you!

You: I owe you both so much for this. I am taking you two out for drinks as soon as I sleep off this nightmare of a vacation.

Lin: You could pay me back by packing the rest of my stuff in the apartment.

You: Lin, we are moving in less than two weeks! Get on it!

Aubrey: I have been telling her that the entire time you've been gone, but she decided that binging rom-coms is a better use of her time.

Lin: I still think my logic is sound.

You: Save some of those rom-coms for when I get back. I need something to ball my eyes out over.

Aubrey: What happened with Joel? Did things end badly?

You: Beyond badly. I don't want to get into it over text, so I will tell you both all about it when I land.

Lin: I am so sorry girl. I'll make a stop for some ice cream before I come to get you.

Aubrey: Does this require more than ice cream? Maybe Margaritas?

You: I love you two so much! I can't wait to see you. It looks like they are finally going to let me board the plane. I will see you both soon.

You hand the flight attendant your ticket, and she directs you to your seat. You get settled in by the window and gaze out at the scene of swaying palm trees and the blue ocean in the distance. Part of you wishes you could have stayed and enjoyed a few more days in this gorgeous place. You likely wouldn't have the time or money to come back in a long time.

Your phone vibrates against the seat; you expect a last-minute text from Lin or Aubrey, but an unknown number flashes across your screen. Is it Joel? Has he finally found out you left without saying a proper goodbye? You open the message to find the picture of Joel and you in the cove. Your heart stops beating against your chest. You zoom in and are slightly relieved that your face is more than half covered by your hair. It would be hard for someone who didn't know you to find your identity with this picture. However, anyone who was with you on the yacht would know exactly whose vibrant-colored hair was in the picture. Sarah would know immediately what had happened, well, technically almost happened, between her dad and you.

“Ma'am, I am going to have to ask you to turn your phone off for the duration of the flight,” the flight attendant says as she walks down the center aisle.

“Of course,” you respond in a shaky voice.

You hold the power button and watch the screen go black, taking the picture into blackness. You wish it would disappear altogether, but you know it will be there as soon as you turn your phone back on.

“Is this your first time flying?” the flight attendant asks. She must have mistaken your shock for a fear of flying.

“Yes,” you offer meekly, not wanting to explain.

“Well, don't worry. Everything will be okay. We will be back on the ground before you know it.”

“Everything will not be okay,” you mumble as she walks away.

—

Joel rolls over in bed; the glare of the sun from the window streams across his face, pulling him from some much-needed sleep. He can't stop thinking about what had happened with you on the beach. He wants to talk to you, to see if you're okay, but he hasn't seen you since the incident. His mind goes over it, reliving every aspect in vivid color....

"Joel, there's a man taking pictures of us!" you had squealed.

He had turned his head, and sure enough, a man was standing on the rocky outcrop hanging over the cove. "Shit! Stay behind me, you. I'll get you out of this," he had said, protectively shifting your body behind his. You had buried your face in his neck, and he could feel your nervous heartbeat against his chest. He had been so foolish to pull you into this mess. He knew instinctively that this was Blaine's doing.

He should have accepted the extra security when Bruce suggested it.

He had swum for a group of rocks as fast as he could. His summer spent in the ocean made him a stronger swimmer than usual, thankfully. He had reached for the rocks and strategically placed you behind them, out of the cameraman's view. He could see the fear on your face as you grabbed onto one of the smaller rocks. "You stay right here, and I will go handle this," he had said. You had nodded weakly at him, and he had swum hard for the beach.

He had looked up and saw the photographer frantically packing up his tripod and camera equipment. Had he been waiting for them? How could he have possibly known about this secluded spot? He must have been following him and set up his equipment after watching him strip down on the beach. He had grabbed his clothes and made a beeline for the thick vegetation below the man. He had thrown on his clothes haphazardly before starting to climb up the rocks. Once he had reached the top, the dust was barely settling. The man must have run for it when he realized Joel was coming after him. He had debated on going back for you, but he figured he was not far behind the photographer. He could do more damage control if he caught up with him. Men are easily persuaded by money, and he knew with a big enough bribe, he could buy the pictures back. The only problem was he would have had to find the man first. The man's footprints had been plain to see in the sandy earth, so he had taken off running after him. Eventually, the sand had faded into a dirt road. He had been scared he'd lost him when he noticed fresh tire tracks in the dirt; the guy must have taken off fast to leave such obvious divots in the ground. He had followed the tire tracks, but when the dirt connected with the main road, he had lost him. Not ready to give up, he had spent hours searching the surrounding area and asking the few people he had run into if they had seen someone speed out of the area. He had gotten nothing. The guy was a ghost.

When he had returned to the cove, it was illuminated by the stars, and you were long gone. He had returned to the house well after dark; he hadn't wanted to wake you up, so he had returned to his own room, where he showered off the mud and the grime. As soon as he hit the bed, he had fallen into a deep sleep, completely exhausted from the unsuccessful chase. His body still feels sluggish this morning, but he forces himself to get up; he needs to check on you to make sure you're alright. He doesn't know how he's going to break it to you that he hadn't been able to track down the man with the camera.

He grabs his phone off of the nightstand, surprised to see that he has slept late into the afternoon. He has several messages and emails that need his attention. He opens his messages and has an image from an unknown number; he already knows the picture he will see before he opens it. But he opens it anyway. He has to see exactly how bad the situation is. He is relieved that your face is covered by your hair and that you are hidden behind his body. That will help protect you. He can handle a little public scrutiny, but it could be career-ending for you if the public got ahold of your name. He types out a quick message, seething with every letter he types into the phone.

Joel: What the fuck do you want?

Unknown: One million or this picture will be sent to every gossip tabloid.

Joel: Do you really want to play that game with me? I know it is you, Blaine. You are going down a very dangerous path.

Unknown: I need the money, or the picture will be leaked at midnight. I think it is you that is playing a dangerous game, Joel.

Joel: Leak the picture, Blaine. You are not worth my time.

Unknown: Are you willing to risk your reputation over a measly million dollars?

Joel: I can take a little hit on my reputation. If I give you what you want, you will just come back for more. That is the nature of leeches.

Unknown: If I am a leech, what does that make you? You think about no one but yourself, but what about the girl? Can she handle the scandal? What will it do to her life?

Joel: Even the FBI wouldn't be able to figure out her identity from this picture. Maybe next time, you should splurge on a better photographer. It is amazing to me that you can't even get blackmail right.

Unknown: I know exactly who the girl is. My guess is that I know more about her than you do. How else would I know that she left on a plane earlier today? She must be so ready to be back at home. I guess she wanted to be as far away from you as possible before the picture is leaked.

Joel: You know nothing.

Unknown: Play tough all you want Joel, but those you care about will be the ones to get hurt. Get me the money, or else.

He slams his phone back down on the nightstand. There is no way Blaine knows who you are, but a sinking pit in his stomach makes him rush from his room and up the stairs. The walk to your room seems longer than ever before. He just needs to see your face.

When he gets to your room, the door stands open. His stomach drops; the room is empty… You are nowhere in sight, the bed is made, and the room looks barren despite the perfectly styled decor. He rushes into the bathroom, hoping to find some sign that you haven't really left, only to find it empty as well. The closet is also empty of all of your clothing, and your suitcase is gone.

You truly have left.

He sinks onto your empty bed, his head in his hands, trying to accept the situation and figure out what he had done wrong. He glances over to the nightstand and realizes you have left something, possibly on purpose. The only thing left in the room is a small pink shell set on your bedside table. He picks it up, rubbing the smooth side against his thumb. Where had you picked this up? It must have been significant enough that you felt the need to keep it. He slips the small shell into his pocket. He should have gone after you instead of the guy taking pictures, but now he can't help but wonder if you even wanted him to.

“Sir?"

The voice shakes him from his thoughts, drawing him back to reality. Reggie is standing in the doorway, a somber expression on his face as he rocks gently from side to side, as if contemplating how to tell him something.

“Yes, Reggie? Is there something I can do for you?" His voice sounds exhausted even to his own ear. He hopes that whatever Reggie has to say doesn't have anything to do with work. That is the last thing on his mind at the moment.

“No, I was actually coming to tell you I just got back from dropping her off at the airport. I ran into her when I was driving back from picking up a few things at the store for the chefs this morning. She was dragging her suitcase through the gravel at the end of the drive."

His heart crumbles again at hearing the confirmation that you are really gone. You've left–without a word. “Thank you for making sure she got to the airport. Did she say why she was leaving?"

“She didn't give me much detail. She looked really upset, though. She mentioned fighting with Sarah. I have no idea what they fought about, but a couple of the maids said they heard Sarah screaming at someone early this morning. No one really thought much of it; they just figured she was yelling at a member of the staff."

It certainly wouldn't be unusual for Sarah to scream at a staff member–or her friend for that matter. “That girl needs a reality check," he says with a loud sigh.

He truly is embarrassed to find out that his daughter had yelled at his staff members so frequently that it was considered perfectly normal. He will have to rein her in before she does some real damage. He also needs to find out what she had said to you to make you leave. He suddenly feels exhausted at the thought of having to confront his daughter. Getting blackmailed by his deranged, bastard half-brother is enough for one day.

“Thank you, Reggie. Will you call my housekeeper at the New York home and let her know to prepare for my arrival please?"

Reggie raises his eyebrows slightly but then nods. “Of course, sir. When should I tell her we will arrive?"

“Tell her we will be there tomorrow. I don't want to stay here any longer than I have to." His mind is made up, which does make him feel slightly better about the situation.

Reggie nods and leaves him alone with his thoughts.

So you really did leave. The fact that Blaine knew you left means he was having you followed. If he went to see you, he would lead Blaine right to you. His only option is to act as though you didn't matter to him. The only way to keep you safe is to keep his distance. He wouldn't go after you. Not until after he tracked Blaine down.

—

"You need to tell him," Aubrey insists, her arms folded firmly across her chest. Ever since she learned about the blackmail, she's been your guardian angel, fiercely protective.

"But we're both in that photo," you protest, the heat rising to your cheeks as you recall the day. "I was the one who stripped down and dove into the water first. I have no idea what came over me. Joel showed up, and before I knew it, I was daring him to join me. We got... carried away."

Lin's eyes narrow with a playful grin. "Are you blushing? What do you mean by 'carried away'?" she pries, her curiosity piqued.

You chuckle nervously, the memory flooding back. "Well, I haven't told you this, but we almost went all the way in the water that day." It's time to come clean with your friends.

"Oh my god, you're just spilling this now?" Lin exclaims, her excitement bubbling over.

"I've been trying to push it out of my mind, but I can't stop thinking about Joel," you confess, your thoughts drifting to him despite your best efforts.

Aubrey swats Lin's arm, a reminder of the gravity of the situation. "This is serious, Lin. It's not the time for jokes."

"I just don't get why he hasn't sent a security team or something! He's loaded, right? He needs to step up and take responsibility," you say, still shaken from being tailed by a mysterious man from your gym – likely the same one behind the blackmail.

"He has just as much at stake as I do," you add, collapsing onto the worn-out sofa, the weight of the situation pressing down on you.

You're still catching your breath from the encounter, wondering if giving in would only make things worse for Joel. Who could be so intent on hurting him that they'd resort to blackmail and stalking?

"Does he, though? He's got his fortune to shield him," Aubrey counters.

"He might not even know what's happening," you say in Joel's defense.

"Then you need to fill him in," Lin interjects, her tone firm.

"I know I do, but I'm not sure how to reach out to him," you admit. You wish you could just call him, arrange to meet somewhere in the city. But you never got his number, figuring you'd never need it – he was always just a short walk away. And now, it's too late.

"Could you ask Sarah for his number?" Aubrey suggests.

"Even if I wanted to talk to her after our huge fight, I doubt she'd respond," you say, the bridge between you and Sarah burnt to ashes.

Lin, ever the problem-solver, pulls out her phone and quickly types away. Moments later, she hands it to you, displaying a picture of a towering skyscraper with a New York address.

"This is his office. Just go in and talk to him," Lin urges, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Also, I can't resist – was he a good kisser?"

Aubrey laughs, smacking Lin on the shoulder, while your smile and the telltale blush give away your answer.

—

The Express Air building looms over you, an imposing figure against the city skyline. You watch as men and women in sharp suits hurry in and out of the grand entrance, their importance echoing in the rhythm of their steps. Inside, the opulence of white marble floors and black elevators leaves you feeling out of place. The lobby buzzes with the sound of stilettos and the murmur of conversations, all bouncing off the high ceilings in a symphony of business.

You quickly retreat to the far side of the lobby, where a black letterboard announces Joel's office on the top floor. The elevator button glows under your touch, the wait for the doors to open feeling like an eternity. The elevator fills, and you try to blend into the background, your heart pounding as you ascend. When the last of your fellow passengers disembark, you finally breathe, rehearsing your speech to Joel in your head. Despite the dire news you carry, there's a flicker of excitement at the thought of seeing him again. You hope he'll forgive your sudden departure – without an explanation, without a goodbye. Perhaps he's missed you as much as you've missed him. The elevator dings, signaling your arrival. You step out with newfound confidence, only to have it crushed by the receptionist's icy gaze.

"Are you lost?" she asks, her tone dripping with condescension. She's the epitome of a high-fashion model, her tight black dress clinging to her like a second skin.

You approach her desk, trying to maintain your composure. "I'm here to see Mr. Miller. Is he available?"

Her cold smile sends a chill down your spine. "Desperate women come up here all the time, hoping to catch a glimpse of Mr. Miller. At least they dress the part. You, on the other hand..."

You bristle at her words but press on. "I've met Mr. Miller before. It's urgent that I speak with him."

She rolls her eyes, the picture of impatience. "If you knew him, you'd have an appointment. Mr. Miller's schedule is booked for months. I can't let just anyone see him without one. It's how we keep out the crazies." Her gaze rakes over you, the unspoken implication hanging in the air.

You take a deep breath, steadying your voice. "Please, this is time-sensitive. I really need to see him today."

"It's always 'time-sensitive,'" she mocks, turning back to her computer. "I can call security if you can't find your way out."

Your hands clench into fists, the anger threatening to spill over. But you know losing your temper will only hasten your exit.

"May I leave a note for him, then? It'll be his choice to respond," you say, the words barely above a whisper.

With an exaggerated sigh, she slides a piece of notepaper and a pen toward you. You scribble a quick message, careful not to reveal too much:

Joel, I'm being contacted about our swim in the cove. We need to talk.

You add your name and number, then hesitate before adding a postscript in tiny letters.

P.S. I'm sorry I didn't say goodbye.

You slide the note back to her, your heart sinking as you press the elevator call button. When you glance back, the receptionist is watching you, a smug smile playing on her lips. You rush out of the building, head down, the paranoia of being watched still gnawing at you. You can only hope the receptionist will deliver your message to Joel. For all you know, it could be lining a trash can by now. As the elevator descends and you step back onto the street, you're left with a sense of helplessness. What will you do if Joel doesn't reach out soon?

—

"Bruce, please tell me you have some good news," Joel says into his phone.

He walks out onto the balcony of his penthouse, taking in the New York skyline. The city's energy is palpable, but after Blaine's attempts at blackmail, the presence of his security team is a constant reminder of the danger lurking in the shadows. His penthouse, a sanctuary of solitude, is one of the few places where he can find a moment's peace, though even here, the security team maintains a vigilant watch from the lobby below.

"I am afraid it is not good news, sir. We have reason to believe that Blaine is indeed back in New York. What is surprising is that my security team followed him into a neighborhood far from both your penthouse and your offices," Bruce informs him.

Instantly, Joel's thoughts leap to you. The only logical explanation is that Blaine is attempting to use you to get in contact with him. "Shit," he mutters under his breath.

"Do you know where he would be headed, sir?" Bruce inquires.

"I believe he is trying to use a woman to get to me," Joel says, giving Bruce your name. "She was on the yacht with us for part of the vacation. We became involved, and she got caught in Blaine's crossfire."

"Is she the one in the picture?"

"Yes, she is, Bruce. I’ve been trying to find a way to contact her for the past week with no luck. She likely wants nothing to do with me after getting caught up in this mess. However, I would like to have some of the team watching out for her. Would you let me know if you can find her most recent address or a way for me to contact her?"

Joel has reached out to you multiple times over social media, the only link he has to you, but each message has gone unanswered. He isn't sure if you're purposely avoiding responding to them or if you just haven't seen them. You are the complete opposite of his daughter, who lives her entire life on social media.

"Of course. I will let you know when I find something, sir," Bruce assures him.

"Thank you, Bruce. I don't know what I would do without you having my back," Joel expresses, knowing full well that Bruce is not one for effusive praise.

Bruce offers a small cough of acknowledgment, and the line goes dead. Bruce doesn't know how to take compliments well, but Joel wants him to understand how much he values him, even if it makes him uncomfortable to hear it. A knock sounds on Joel's door just as he steps back inside from the balcony. He opens it reluctantly, already mourning the loss of his solitude as Marnie, his ex, barges in uninvited.

"Marnie, what are you doing here?" he asks, though he knows the answer will likely disrupt the calm he's sought.

"I needed to go over the budget for Sarah's wedding before I start finalizing the plans," she says, making herself at home on his brown leather sofa.

He takes a seat across from her, the tension already building as he rubs his temples. Dealing with Marnie, especially when it comes to money, is a surefire way to trigger a migraine. "Just let me know what my portion of the wedding is, and I will pay for it. I am not in the mood to discuss the cost of linen tablecloths and reams of silk with you," he says, closing his eyes in an attempt to ward off the impending headache. As he continues to rub his temples, he hopes she'll take the hint and leave. But Marnie is nothing if not persistent, especially when she's on the hunt for more funds. He often reflects on how lucky he was that her late husband dealt with her more frequently than he ever had to.

"Well, you are in a mood, aren't you? I figured you would want to have more involvement in your only daughter's wedding," she says with a dramatic sigh.

"I already said I would pay my share of whatever Sarah wants. She doesn't want my opinion on the actual details of the wedding, and neither do you," he retorts, weary of the conversation.

"Well, that is fair enough," she concedes with another sigh, as if the weight of the world rests on her shoulders.

He lets the silence hang in the air, a temporary respite from the inevitable conflict. But his patience wears thin, and he finally breaks the silence. "Was there something else you wanted to discuss, Marnie?"

"Well, now that you ask, yes, there is a small matter I wanted to discuss with you," she says, her eyes gleaming with anticipation.

He sits up, bracing himself for whatever she's about to drop on him. Of course, she doesn't get straight to the point, and he's forced to coax it out of her. "And what is the small matter?" he asks, trying to keep the irritation from his voice.

"Sarah's trust."

"Yes? As we have already discussed, Sarah has a trust set up by the Miller family," he says, already dreading where this conversation is headed.

Marnie has a history of making poor financial decisions, so he's been meticulous in setting up Sarah's trust to prevent her from accessing it prematurely. He's always held out hope that Sarah would mature and learn to manage her finances responsibly. But deep down, he knows that's probably just wishful thinking.

"Well, since she is getting married, I think she would benefit from receiving it now," Marnie says with a confidence that worries him.

"The trust is set up so that she won’t be able to access the funds until she turns twenty-five," he says firmly, having had similar discussions with her in the past.

"She has to wait until she is twenty-five to receive what is rightfully hers?" Marnie asks, as if this is news to her.

"Yes, that’s how the trust is structured. That way, she's mature enough to handle that amount of money," he explains, though he knows Marnie is more interested in the money than in Sarah's maturity.

"That is all fine in theory, but that puts her in a difficult position right now," she continues, her voice tinged with a sense of urgency.

"How so? Todd seems fully capable of supporting her. He has a good standing in his father's company," he responds, already sensing where this is going.

"That is true, but I was just talking with Todd, and he had his eye on a penthouse on the upper east side that is a bit out of his price range. It would be the perfect starter home for them, and I would hate to see them deprived."

Alarm bells ring in his head as soon as Marnie mentions Todd. The man has his sights set on Sarah's trust fund before they're even married. Given how Todd has treated you, Joel can't say he's surprised. "I see. Does Sarah know about this penthouse?" he asks, already suspecting the answer.

"Of course not. Todd wants to surprise her with it as a wedding gift," she says, as if the idea of a surprise penthouse is perfectly reasonable.

"I will change the terms of Sarah's trust fund on one condition," he says, looking Marnie directly in the eyes to convey the seriousness of his words.

"What is that?" she asks, her eyes widening with hope.

"Todd signs a prenup. Everything that Sarah pays for will remain in Sarah's name alone. He will not have access to any of her trust fund money."

"You are being ridiculous, Joel. A healthy marriage can't operate like a business transaction."

"Those are my terms. If Todd doesn't like it, they don't have to get married at all," he states with finality.

"You would really take away your daughter's one chance at happiness over something as trivial as money?!" Marnie screeches, her true colors shining through.

He can't help but find it ironic that she calls money trivial, given how often she comes to him for financial help. "If money is so trivial, then Todd should have no problem signing a prenup," he counters.

He has serious doubts that Todd is Sarah's one chance at happiness. In fact, the more he gets to know Todd, the more he's convinced that Todd will only bring Sarah misery. He would have liked to discuss this with Sarah, but he knows that once she sets her mind on something, there's no changing it.

"I can't believe you would be so selfish! You are going to ruin the surprise of the penthouse completely, and that will cast a horrible shadow over the entire wedding. You are going to ruin everything for Sarah. She has had enough to deal with in her life by losing one father figure. Now you are going to break her heart all over again!" Marnie spits out, her words laced with venom.

He's used to her throwing her late husband in his face to manipulate him into doing what she wants. She always portrays Sarah as the victim, conveniently forgetting that it was her own actions that kept Sarah from knowing her real father for the first ten years of her life. The guilt used to work on him, but he's since seen through her manipulations. "Those are my terms, Marnie. You are not going to back me into a corner. If this was truly important to Sarah, she could come to discuss it with me. But I’m not making any changes to her trust because you and her fiance are conspiring together."

His phone, which he had placed on the sofa cushion beside him, vibrates, pulling his attention away from Marnie's theatrics. A call from Bruce lights up the screen. "Excuse me, Marnie; I have to take this," he says, picking up his phone with a sense of relief at the interruption. 

He steps back out onto the balcony, closing the door firmly behind him. The last thing he needs is for Marnie to overhear anything about Blaine. She paces back and forth in his living room, visibly fuming from their conversation. "Bruce, what news do you have?"

"Sir, I just got word that a woman matching the young lady's description just left your office. Apparently, she talked with the receptionist about needing to speak with you. The receptionist called security right after she left."

"Thank you, Bruce," he says, his mind already racing with thoughts of you.

He sends a text to his assistant to send the car around, and he prepares to leave, his resolve hardening. 

"Where the hell do you think you are going? We are not finished here," Marnie yells after him.

"Yes, we are, Marnie. I expect you to leave before I get back. I will give orders to my security team downstairs to forcibly remove you if you refuse."

He leaves her standing there, her jaw dropped in shock.

He is not going to lose you again.

—

Joel's driver pulls up to the front of the Express Air Building, and he immediately jumps out to scan the crowd for you.

He lives only a few blocks away from the office, and he left as soon as he'd gotten word that you had been to his office. If he's lucky, maybe he'll catch you before you leave. He stands in the middle of the crowded sidewalk and scans the surrounding street; just across the street, he catches a glimpse of hair that looks just like yours. His heart skips at the chance that it might be you.

His designer dress shoes slap the pavement hard as he tries to make up the distance between you and him. He does his best to avoid a collision with the other pedestrians as he runs, but he knows he's doing a poor job of it, hearing the mutters of frustration in his wake. Despite knowing he's being rude, he pushes himself harder as the gap between you and him starts to lessen. He's halfway down the block from you when he sees your tiny arm shoot up, hailing a taxi. He knows he has to reach you before one of them stops to pick you up. He's ten feet from you when a bright yellow car pulls up in front of you, and you open the back door.

"Stop!" he yells as he races toward you.

You bend your head to enter the cab, and he grabs your wrist just in time.

"Excuse me!" you respond, turning to face him.

"Please, I need to talk to you," he says, out of breath from the chase.

"I am not who you think I am!" the woman says as his eyes finally land on her face. Clearly, not you.

"Shit. I am so sorry, ma'am," he apologizes, releasing her wrist immediately.

"You should be," the woman chides him as she yanks her wrist from his hand and slams the cab door shut.

He makes the long walk back to the entrance of Express Air, catching his breath along the way. He silently gets into an elevator, ignoring the buzz of his employees, numbly answering some of their greetings with a slight nod. Luckily, many of the employees are too busy to notice their boss sulking through the lobby and hallways. The elevator pings at the top floor, and he takes a step out into the waiting room of his office.

He notices at that moment that he's scuffed his shoes in the chase for the 'not you' woman. There goes a perfectly good pair of five-thousand-dollar shoes.

"Good Morning, sir," his receptionist Tabitha says as the elevator doors close behind him.

"Tabitha," he answers with a small nod. He's still angry with her for calling security on you, but he won't get the information he needs from her if he starts scolding her right away, so he holds off.

"Can I get you anything, sir? I wasn't sure if you were coming in today," she says.

"No, that’s quite alright. I wasn't planning on coming in today. Did anyone come by for a meeting with me today?" he asks, hoping she'll tell him about you stopping by.

"No one of any importance, sir," Tabitha says with a seductive smile as she grabs a water bottle from the mini fridge under the reception desk. She cracks the seal and hands it to him.

He takes a mental note that Tabitha is purposely not telling him that you had come looking for him, which he knows from the explanation she had given the security guard. He figures that might be a sign he needs a new receptionist. He takes the water bottle from Tabitha's outstretched hand, maintaining his stern exterior.

"Are you sure? I expected a visit from an old acquaintance. She was supposed to stop by today," he says with a calculating stare.

"Oh, we did have someone stop by," Tabitha says, fidgeting slightly under his gaze. "I didn't catch her name, though."

"Did you happen to 'catch' what she stopped by for?" he asks.

"She said something about knowing you personally, but I highly doubted it with the way she was dressed. I don't think you would stoop so low as to mix with someone who dressed so - common," she says, her voice dripping with disdain.

"What did she look like?" he asks, feeling anger rise up at her judgmental attitude.

Tabitha takes this as an invitation to further mock you to him, as if he had asked her for more of her petty gossip. "Oh, you would not believe the state of her shoes. These ugly brown clunky things. I cannot believe someone would ever leave the store with something so awful!" Tabitha squeaks with delight.

"No, Tabitha. I do’nt care what she was wearing. Why on earth would you think I was so shallow as to only care about the clothes on a person's back?" he says, his irritation clear.

Tabitha looks as though he has physically smacked her. She looks away from him without saying a word and slides a note from underneath her keyboard. She holds it in her hand and nearly flicks it at him.

"She left this note," her flirty tone has completely changed, and he can tell she's trying very hard to keep her voice professional.

"Thank you, Tabitha," he says as he takes the note from her. He walks into his office and closes the glass doors behind him.

He carefully flips over the note in his hand.

Joel, I am being contacted about swimming in the cove. We need to talk.

-P.S. I am sorry I didn't say goodbye.

You had signed the bottom of the note and left your phone number next to your loopy signature. He pulls out his phone and dials your number.

—

You sink into the old sofa, the energy drained from you after the encounter with Joel's dreadful receptionist. You've managed to hold back the hot tears threatening to spill over during the entire elevator ride down to the main floor, but those concerns fade into the background as you make your way back to the apartment. You don't want to call Lin for a ride, and you can't justify the expense of a taxi. The walk home is uneventful until you notice a man in a dark hoodie. He doesn't follow you home, thankfully, but his presence is a stark reminder that someone could be watching you. The thought casts a shadow over the rest of your walk.

"So, did you talk to him?" Aubrey peeks out from the kitchen, her face etched with concern. She must have noticed your less-than-enthusiastic flop onto the sofa or perhaps heard a sigh of frustration escape your lips.

"No, he wasn't at his office, so I left a note with his snobby receptionist," you reply, the disappointment evident in your voice.

"Well, I'm sure it's only a matter of time until he calls you and straightens this whole thing out," she says with a smile that's meant to be reassuring.

"Yeah, I'm sure he'll call if the receptionist actually gives him my note. I wouldn't put it past that witch to have tossed it in the trash the moment I turned my back," you say, pulling a throw pillow over your face to shield yourself from the world.

"Why do you say that?" Aubrey asks, her eyes filled with love and concern as she gazes at you.

You lower the pillow just enough to see her. "Aubs, that was the most embarrassing interaction I've ever had. She told me women pull the same stunt all the time to try and get Joel's attention. She treated me like I was some kind of groupie."

"I'm sure it wasn't your most embarrassing interaction. Do you remember when you sat on that foreign exchange student's jacket? You thought he was hitting on you because he couldn't figure out how to tell you he needed you to get up," Aubrey teases, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Aubrey! I asked you not to mention that again! What was I supposed to think when he kept gesturing to me and then pointing to his butt?" you say, feeling a smile tug at the corners of your mouth despite your exasperation.

Aubrey bursts into laughter, nearly wheezing with amusement.

"But you went on for like ten minutes about how you thought he was really nice but didn't see him or his ass in that way. Oh man, the look on that poor confused boy's face," Aubrey says, wiping a small tear from the corner of her eye.

You pull the pillow back over your face, partly to hide your smile at the memory of your earlier embarrassment.

"What are we missing in here?" Lin asks, entering the room from the bedroom and holding a tape gun.

"Oh, we were just remembering the time that you sat on the foreign exchange student's jacket," Aubrey says, trying to stifle a giggle.

"Oh, I never get tired of that story!" Lin exclaims, then begins imitating you, "I agree. You do have a really nice ass, but that doesn't change the fact that I don't think of you like that."

Aubrey's laughter erupts into a snort, which sets Lin off laughing just as hard. You can't help but think about how much you'll miss living with these two. You're taking Lin with you to Harvard, but it won't be the same without Aubrey.

"I'm going to miss this," you say, sitting up on the couch and hugging the pillow in your lap.

"Don't remind me that you guys are leaving. I've already cried about it today," Aubrey admits.

"Yeah, don't make Aubrey cry. You know I get all weird when people cry," Lin adds.

"You're right. I'm sorry, you two. I just feel bad that I've spent the last week moping around the place, not enjoying our time together."

"We understand, girl, especially now that we know about the whole mess with the photographer," Aubrey says.

"What Aubrey said. Anyway, what happened at Express Air? I'm guessing you didn't get a chance to talk to Joel, or we wouldn't be having this conversation right now."

"No, he wasn't at his office. His horrible receptionist made fun of me and would only let me leave a note for him. I don't even know if she'll give it to him, so all I can do now is sit and wait for him to call, but that's probably a long shot."

"I'm sure he'll call, girl," Aubrey says, coming to sit next to you on the couch.

"It's only a matter of time. And if he doesn't, I'll go up to his office and see if that snot-nosed receptionist can say no to me," Lin declares, sitting on your other side.

"Who said she was snot-nosed?" you ask.

"Just a shot in the dark, honestly, but it felt right."

You all laugh together until your phone starts ringing, breaking the momentary levity. You pull it out of your pocket and take a deep breath before answering, hearing a gruff deep voice on the other end, "Darlin'?”

Taglist <3

@lizzie-cakes @ashhlsstuff @puduvallee @theoraekenslover

[sweetimpurity]

❀꫶᳜᳝ᰭ✿⃨ day 31! we've reached the end! ❀꫶᳜᳝ᰭ✿⃨

thank you so much to all my mutuals and readers and my taglist! this has been so much fun and I'm so thankful! hope you have a safe halloween! wc: 1.6k cw: some breathplay, drama, mentions of killing

You’re sitting on the sofa, a bowl of candy and a bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. The phone in your hand waiting. The scary movie playing softly on the tv. Your parents aren’t home. Attending some Halloween party across town. So you’ve got the house to yourself. Looking down at the phone then back up around. At the windows, the front door, everywhere. A chill down your arms, feeling a little anxious, a flutter in your chest. A smile playing on your lips. 

Brrrrring! Brrring! Brrring!

The phone finally rings in your hand, situating yourself on the sofa, sitting up on your knees. The lace cami dress you’re wearing. Easy access, even though you know that’s the whole point of the game. “Hello?” You answer.

“Hello, y/n…” The voice says on the other end. An effect over the tone. 

“Who is this?” You hold back a giggle, clenching the fabric of your lingerie. 

“You know who it is!” He hisses, the phone crackling. “I have one question for you. If you answer it right, I’ll let you live.” 

“And if I don’t get it right?”

There’s a pause. Your excited anxiety is growing. “Then I’m coming inside… and you’re gonna die!” He growls, the voice effect making it sound so foreign. 

“Okay… make it good though babe.” You hum into the phone. “Don’t make it too easy-” 

“I’m not babe, I’m… the killer! And I’m gonna murder you so be quiet!” He says, the usual sassy tone of your boyfriend coming through even with the effect on his voice. You can hear him rustling around on the other end. Maybe it’s the mask you made him wear. Maybe he wrote a script. 

“Okay… um… okay!” He says, getting back on track and putting the scary voice back on. “Your question is… what… is the square root… of thirteen thousand five hundred and twenty seven point nine nine zero one….? 

The line goes silent. You go silent too. What the hell is this nerd talking about? 

“Miguel how am I supposed to know that?-”

“Just answer the question!” 

“Fine um-” You huff. “One hundred and…. I don’t know.” 

“Wrong.” He says in that stupid scary voice again. He’s too cute for this. Making you roll your eyes and sigh. “You got it wrong. You know what that means.” 

“Oh no. What.” You sigh, the fear of it ruined when it’s so obvious he’s a bad actor. 

“You’re gonna die, baby.” He says. Now that actually gave you some chills. And the line goes dead. Silence washes over the house. The phone beeps until you end the call. Sitting in silence. You look around. The silence ringing in your ears. Your heart is beating a little faster. Which door will he come from? Which window will he crawl through? 

“Babe?” You call out into the silence, feeling a little scared now. Now that it’s silent.

“Miguel?” 

You can hear a chair move in the dining room down the hall. Head jerking that way to look. Not seeing anything yet but knowing you heard something. Getting up from the couch and standing in the middle of the living room. Then what sounds like some steps in the kitchen. On the opposite side. He’s everywhere at once. 

You step forward and around the couch, walking to the kitchen door, looking around, maybe he’s hiding behind the fridge? You almost don’t want to check. Again that silence. Deafening. You can hear your heart thumping. 

His hulking form stands right behind you. Dressed in the black shiny cloak you both shopped around for, for this occasion. The white scream mask on his face, tall and broad, and you don’t even know. He stands there silently, watching you as you look into the kitchen. Thinking he’s in there. He’s not. 

You step back, freaked out, knocking right into his form. Flinching and jumping with a gasp, and when you turn back seeing it’s him, the chase is on. “Ahh! Shit!” You can’t help the scream, moving away from him in the door, around the kitchen island. Scared even by the sight of him standing there in the costume. “Don’t run baby… you know how this ends…” He says, his deep voice muffled by the mask. 

You smile, dashing out of the kitchen and he’s right on your trail. “AhhhHH no no no!” You scream when he’s much faster than you. Chasing you into the dining room and around the table, trying to corner you. But you weasel your way around, bolting through the hallway and to the stairs. But he’s fast, whipping around the banister and grabbing onto your ankle, pulling you down so you can’t go up anymore. “Ah!” You gasp, grabbing at the railing trying to pull yourself up. “I got you.” He says, pulling himself up by your leg, big hands wrapping around your thighs and trying to grab onto you. 

“No no no ah wait wait!” You giggle, pulling away and squirming out of his hold, his hands slipping down you and you sprint up the rest of the stairs. Squealing on your way up, being chased by this beast of a man dressed in black. And that mask pushes it all over the edge. “C’mere baby! Don’t you wanna get fucked?” He laughs sadistically, grabbing at you at the top of the stairs, pressing himself against you. But the point is that you have to get away from him as many times as you can. Squirming out of his hold, from the confrontation of that mask nose to nose with you. 

You pull away, stumbling to the floor and crawling across the rug, trying to get away, trying to flee. Crawling as fast as you can through your bedroom doorway. And he walks on in, towering over you, looking down at you like a little bug. “Gotcha.” He mutters. Walking closer. You’re done for. There’s nowhere to run except the door he just closed. 

You back up, still on the floor, looking up at him. “You know what happens now, baby…” He crouches down, the mask really freaking you the fuck out by now. Wide eyes looking at the eyes of his mask. He grabs you by the ankles, pulling you across the floor, lifting you up in one motion and throwing you over his shoulder. “Ah- what are you doing?” You squeal, dangling over his back. 

But he just ignores you, rubbing a big warm hand over the round of your ass and smacking. A gasp leaving your lips and a red mark to show. Red and raw and delicious. He grips the fat of your ass before smacking again, walking you over to the vanity in your room. He flops you down, not being too gentle, bending you over the furniture and knocking everything out of the way. “I told you what would happen baby…” He says, his voice so familiar in your ear. The mask over your shoulder, facing you right in the reflection of the mirror in front of you. 

“Now you’re gonna die.” He growls, pushing you down and grabbing your hair in one hand, pushing and pulling your panties off with the other. Forcing them down your legs roughly and spreading your legs open with his knees. Cupping your pussy in his hand and rubbing your slick up and down, his fingers teasing you, caressing you. And then he searches around his cloak for the weapon.

“Please don’t kill me…” You whine, putting on a show, gasping when he tightens his grip in your hair. “Shut up.” He hisses. A pleasant surprise. Pulling something from under the black costume. Your eyes widening at the sight. You didn’t know of this plan. A pink vibrator in his hand, waving it in front of your face before making you kiss it. 

“No no no… no please” You gasp, desperate for every moment of this. Squirming as you hear the device turn on. Starting to buzz and then the pressure of him pressing it to your clit between your trembling legs. “Oh! Ah! Fuck-” 

You squirm and he holds you tighter. Finding the sweet spots and focusing there. Watching your reflection in the mirror through his mask. “Miguel oh! Fuck me!” You moan, gushing and coming quickly on the vibrations, clenching and contracting around nothing. Desperate to be filled. 

“Beg…” He says. Gripping your hair. “Beg me to fuck you.” 

You gasp, needing to be full of him now. “Please Miguel please please please fuck me, I need you so bad!” 

Your wilting voice has him rock hard, nudging at you through the costume. Needing to be wet with your slick and squeezed in your tight pussy. “Please!” You moan, pushing up against him. 

He pulls the cloak back, pulling himself free from his pants, his boxers, raw and bare pushing against your achy pussy. Pushing through your folds. “Need it so bad baby? Little pussy wants it so bad, huh?” 

“Mhmm so bad, please baby!” 

“Good girl…” He growls, leaning over you, his hand snaking around to your throat, his other hand pulling the vibrator back to your clit, and thrusting his cock in you fast and deep. Making you scream, the sound morphing into a desperate moan. “OhhH! Please ah! Fuck fuck fuck!” 

He’s groaning in your ear from how hard you’re squeezing him. Fucking you, choking you, putting the tiniest bit of yummy pressure on your pulsepoint to give you that bit of thrill. Listening to your sounds, pulling through your cunt, hitting all the sweet spots that have you seeing stars. “I’m gonna come! Ah! AH!” You cry, squirming and trembling, taking him deep, buried so hard and fast into you. The sounds of your release mixing with his cum as he climaxes with a groan, filling you up. Letting the vibrator turn off and fall to the floor. 

“Hah… hah…” You pant, a shaking mess. He rips the mask off, wrapping both arms around you. Nuzzling into your neck and kissing your cheek. His sweet face back in view again through the reflection in front of you. “That was fucking incredible…” 

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[mochidoie]

room for two.

kim doyoung x reader wc - 7k genre - pure fluff, sharing a bed cliché, mutuals to lovers, mutual pining, SO MUCH TENSION BUILD UP warnings - kiss scene, sensual tension, mention of alcohol

It's Johnny Suh's birthday trip and as your childhood best friend, Johnny books a hotel room with only one bed for you and Doyoung to share. The catch: you're completely head over heels for Kim Doyoung.

“I can sleep on the floor.” Hands on his hips, Doyoung quizzically stares at the full sized bed in the center of the hotel room. Seconds pass by, feeling like hours staring at this one bed situation and trying to find a solution for the next three nights.

“Maybe we can ask if they have a spare mattress we can rent? Hotels do that right…?” If only you could be confident in your suggestions, knowing damn well that it was highly unlikely and you’ve already heard an earful of excuses as to why you’re unable to change your room last minute.

At this point, you are mentally strangling Johnny for this slip up. This is the last time you trust this man to do anything for you. Not only did he pick the middle seat for you on the airplane when you specifically asked for the window, he has now ruined your good night’s sleep by "accidentally" booking you only one bed to share with Doyoung.

Doyoung shrugs at your proposal, “it’s been awhile since I traveled. I can go down and ask if it’ll be possible. Hang tight.” He is gone before you can protest, but perhaps it’s better that he tries to negotiate with the receptionists since they wouldn’t even let you finish a sentence earlier.

Grabbing your phone, you’re quick to type an angry text to Johnny Suh about how badly he screwed up the hotel reservation and how he is getting on your last standing nerve.

Good. Maybe finally you’ll get the balls to make a move.

Plus, it was cheaper. You told me to save you some money and that’s what I did.

Scoff leaving your lips as you read the two text bubbles over and over. You can’t believe your eyes at this little weasel and in fact, you straight up cannot believe he actually thought this was a good idea.

While this means you get to share a bed with your crush, you never intended for it to be premeditated. A love that happens naturally, that is all you could ask for. Absolutely in no way did you want your friends to meddle with your love life and definitely not to put you in such an awkward situation.

The door beeps open and Doyoung walks in looking as defeated as ever. Judging from his facial expression, it was a no. You two are stuck sleeping together on this tiny bed for this entire trip.

“I really tried.” Doyoung scratches the back of his neck, quite apologetic that he couldn’t find some resolve to an issue that he didn’t even cause.

You laugh, “it wasn’t even your problem to fix anyways.” A sigh of relief follows after and Doyoung flashes you his gummy smile at the idea that pops into his head.

“You know, I don’t really mind sleeping together.” He admits, bashfully and trying to gauge your reaction to the potential thought of sharing a bed. “But obviously, if you’re uncomfortable with the idea, I completely understand too.”

“I don’t know… I’m just a bit embarrassed.” Your cheeks grow hot at the possibility of waking up next to Doyoung, how nice the fragrant of hotel body wash would smell from his skin so close.

Not to mention, the proximity of your bodies being way closer than they’ve ever been before. Just no respectable distance between the two of you underneath the sheets and completely vulnerable in your sleep.

“Of what?” The shift of the bed has you dipping toward him. “Do you snore?”

You don’t answer.

“I mean- like even if you did, it’s not a big deal and you don’t need to be embarrassed about it.” Doyoung frantically tries to make you feel better, seeing that your expressionless face leans closer to sadness rather than neutral. You two are definitely not on the level of friendship to be playful with each other yet.

So you lie just to see what he says. “I snore, I kick. I even steal blankets, Doyoung! And I think you’ll be too nice to wake me up about it or to take them off of me.”

Doyoung practically chokes on his spit at the last part of your sentence. “No, you’re right. I would be too nice to do any of that.” He seriously ponders for a second, his eyes darting around at the ground to maintain his focus on weighing the pros and cons. He really didn’t want to sleep on the floor.

“If it happens, it happens. I won’t mind either way now that I have a heads up.” He gets up to start unpacking his suitcase. “Like I said, there is nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“Fair warning, don’t be upset at me in the morning if you don’t get a good night’s rest. You can blame Johnny for that.” Unpacking the soft dress from your luggage, you smooth out its crinkles and hang it up in the tiny closet next to Doyoung’s jacket.

Doyoung laughs, he has actually been laughing the whole time you’ve spent with each other. It’s as if you’re some comedian and it has you wondering if you’re actually even that hilarious. “I’m pretty happy rooming with you. I’d rather be here than third wheeling with a couple still in their honeymoon phase.”

The magnitude of his words has a buzz running throughout your veins, hairs to stand up on your arms and a slight churning in your stomach. Mindlessly folding out his clothes, Doyoung has no actual clue how he is affecting you. He’s just oblivious to it all.

“Good thing I didn’t bail like everyone else.” The nervous chuckle that escapes your lips is unintentional, probably an awkward reflex to deflect how you’re dying at being in his presence alone.

Johnny’s birthday trip had been a last minute thing and only a select few were able to make it, some bailing at the very last day before. It was a weird time of the year, especially with the New Year starting not too long ago. However, this season allows for cheaper flights and accommodation since it was after the holidays.

It was initially supposed to be a group of Johnny’s close friends — you, Doyoung, Mark, Jaehyun, Yuta — in addition, his girlfriend. How the room arrangements were supposed to be was that you and his girlfriend would share an all girls room, while the guys shared one room.

That outcome could still technically be possible, but Johnny insisted on switching rooms so he can stay with his girlfriend after the others dropped and how he has already shared the experience of being roommates with Doyoung. He also knew how big of a crush you had for Doyoung, so he thought it would be more fitting to pair the lovers together.

Although, Doyoung didn’t like you back nor does he know you do. The severity of your crush is mild, just that Doyoung is the most attractive man ever with poise and an aura that oozes so sexily from him. This is the first chivalrous man in your life, meeting him through Johnny some years ago.

You and Johnny are family friends, your moms being the closest women duo on this Earth. When they’re together, they’re unstoppable. In return, the two of you are practically siblings and have spent every celebration, every holiday, every family event, every funeral together.

Doyoung is Johnny’s roommate from college, these two have been lifelong friends since then. Doyoung had actually moved to your hometown after college, finding an amazing job opportunity at the same company as Johnny. He started coming around a lot more to social events or whenever you saw Johnny. Since the first moment he offered you a ride home, you’ve been stuck on this infatuation for this incredibly charming and sweet man.

Though, you two never got extremely close despite your individual connections to Johnny. It has always felt like Doyoung is Johnny’s friend and vice versa. You also really had no reason to see Doyoung without Johnny, so there had always been a distance. You two spoke when in a group setting, just to make small talk about work, general life updates, or anything about Johnny.

On a very drunk night long ago, you and Johnny had been very well over your drinking limit and had been talking about nonsense between the two of you. Just old friends catching up, but the itch of asking about Doyoung had been bothering you all night.

“Out of curiosity, is Doyoung single?” Oh god, the alcohol has started speaking for you. Johnny raises a skeptical brow and beckons his beer bottle at you before taking a swig.

“Don’t tell me you’re interested in digital marketing Kim Doyoung, cubicle 4E80.”

The boldness overtakes you, it’s not like you lose anything asking a simple question to satisfy your curiosity. “What if I am?”

Johnny laughs, rather than lightheartedly, it is a robust laugh that feels like he’s mocking you and that your statement is unbelievably ridiculous. “He’s single, painfully single too.”

There is a brief pause as your drunken state processes the loud beating of your heart in your ears. Hope settles in, a big dumb grin plasters on your warm face.

“It’s interesting. He had asked about you too.” Johnny sits back and sinks into the couch. “He asked if you had a romantic partner.”

“Me?” You are truly in disbelief that he would ever even give you a second thought.

“Yeah, you dummy. I think he meant it as you should get into a relationship though, not asking if you were single because he is interested in you.” Your heart soars, quickly depleting after hearing Johnny’s explanation. So much for hope or a chance.

“I’m not fully understanding.”

“Doyoung is weird sometimes with his thoughts. I think he was trying to say that you seem lonely? Oh, and that you seem like you have a lot of love to give.” Johnny rubs his eyes with his knuckles, feeling the alcohol induced drowsiness coming on. “Such an observant man.”

Since that night, you never tried any advancements toward him. Partly because you are afraid of him catching onto something and because it was enough for you to realize he probably isn’t interested in you romantically.

Nonetheless, it doesn’t stop the butterflies from fluttering or from your smile growing whenever Doyoung says something nice. He is a naturally friendly and genuine person, super considerate of others and very kind. Johnny says that he has never met another man with such good intentions and a big heart, while still being snarky and intelligent.

“Heading to the pool?” Doyoung asks, a fist holding his swim shorts and a plain shirt. The warm weather outside is so inviting, knowing you’re probably going to get sunburnt at the end of it but it being a year’s worth of Vitamin D. Johnny definitely knows how to travel.

“Yeah, I can’t swim so I’ll just sit by the edge and dip my feet in.” You’re rummaging through your suitcase for your bikini cover-up until your hand hits the bottom of the barrel.

Panic creeps up your neck as you’re tossing all of your clothes out of your luggage now, picking through shirts, dresses, underwear and pants to find the one item you set a reminder to pack.

It’s not there. “Everything okay?” The genuinity in Doyoung’s voice makes you feel more embarrassed for some reason. Tossing all your belongings back into your suitcase, you throw your hands up in the air out of frustration.

“I can’t find my swimsuit cover up. I guess this is what happens when you dismiss a reminder before fulfilling it.” Slightly annoyed, you’re holding the two-piece in your palms and wondering if it is worth the hassle and bashfulness to wear it. You brought it with the intent of looking hot and sexy for the trip, while also keeping your decency by having a cover up to …. well, cover up.

You excuse yourself and clench the bikini in your hand, walking into the bathroom. Fuck it, you brought it. You’re going to wear it. If it gets too much, you’ll just wrap a towel around or buy a new cover up. It shouldn’t be too big of a deal and you already know that Johnny is going to give you shit for not joining them at the pool.

You’ll suck it up. Looking in the mirror, the bottoms barely cover your ass cheeks. Barely is an overstatement, the fabric is so far up your crack that it gives you a wedgie every time you move. Nonetheless, the baby pink is such a sweet color that you’re not minding the exposure too much.

Now, the top situation is a whole mess. The strings wrap around your midsection, but your arms are too short to give yourself a secure knot. After multiple attempts at stretching and pulling, twisting your arms in funky positions, you give up and think it’s best to call in help.

Doyoung. Fuck. You take a few deep breaths and examine yourself in the mirror again, reminding yourself of every positive affirmation and Doyoung is too nice to say anything. Calming your nerves, you gently push open the door.

“Doyoung, could you do me a huge favor and tie my bikini top for me? I genuinely don’t think it’s tight enough when I do it.” You peek your head out and his footsteps come from around the corner, happy to help!

Walking in, Doyoung looks taken aback by your choice of attire. You’re examining his reaction through the mirror as he stops at the door frame, his eyes widen and drag down your body twice. He is most definitely checking you out.

He clears his throat when he meets your eyes. “Did you want me to double knot it?” He asks, softly and shyly. Stepping behind you, his hot hands guide your hair to the side of your neck to expose your back. Your heart is in your throat when Doyoung takes the string from your hands and pulls it toward him, a bit too roughly.

You lose your footing and jolt back into him, your shoulder hitting his chest. “Shit, sorry.” His breathy apology in your ear sends chills up your spine and a slight rush down below.

The tension in the air is so thick – you’re both suffocating in it. Staring at his profile in the reflection, Doyoung’s expression is none of what you’ve seen before. It’s lustful, almost, if you’re not interpreting it incorrectly. He’s biting the inside of his cheek and he is trying to look everywhere but your ass and your breast from an aerial view.

“It’s okay.” You laugh it off, but he is unwavering. “You’re stronger than you look, Doyoung.”

Your light teasing breaks the serious concentration on his face and his shy gummy smile returns, “it’s from all the times Johnny dragged me to gym with him.”

He ties the knot perfectly, making sure it’s one of those pretty bows that top off a gift box. He’s quite happy with himself that he forgets your bare ass is inches away from his clothed dick.

His adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, “pink is a pretty color on you.” His eyes catch yours in the reflection of the mirror and a light blush dusts his cheeks, a kind half grin on his lips.

Your heart is soaring, once again. “It’s nice on you too.” Smiling back, there is a split second that you can actually believe that Doyoung could’ve felt some connection between the two of you. “Thank you for such an impressive bow.”

His demeanor shifts back to friendly, less serious and intense. “Yeah, no problem! If you’re still looking for a coverup, I have something you can borrow.”

Walking out of the stuffy bathroom, Doyoung hums and pulls out a white button up from his bag. It’s light and flowy, just the perfect thing to wear out on a beautiful day. He helps you slip on the sleeves and it covers your backside very well. It’s even better than the initial cover up you had. Then it hits you, you’re wearing his clothes. His scent falls on your body fruitfully and Doyoung doesn’t even flinch at the sight of you in his shirt.

Nonetheless, there is no denying that his stares seem to linger longer than they usually do.

Despite multiple occasions of waiters and waitresses mistaking you and Doyoung as a couple, the first day of the trip was jam packed with good fun and no complaints. Johnny and his girlfriend love showing PDA, but keep it modest for those around. Doyoung enjoys getting his picture taken at every tourist spot, some lowkey alleyways or artsy areas that catch his eye. You just like being around your friends, in a new environment and living in the moment with them all.

The night had fallen upon you so quickly, the expression time flies when you’re having fun held true for this day. Johnny had mentioned prior that he wanted to have a romantic candlelit dinner with his girlfriend for one of the nights you were on this trip.

It didn’t hit you that he was actually being serious about that plan until you’re back in your hotel room with Doyoung, looking for a place to have dinner on your own.

“I didn’t know how much of a romantic Johnny is.” You’re blowing raspberries into the air as you scroll mindlessly on the internet for a good place to eat in this foreign area. Doyoung takes a seat on the chair at the desk, doing exactly the same as you.

“It takes the right person to get it out of him.” Doyoung mumbles, ruffling his hair out of his face cutely. The strands of his bangs disheveled and sticking up. “But he’ll do anything for the person he really likes.”

“I guess I’ve never seen that side of him.” You shrug, attention draining from the overwhelming selection of food choices in the area.

Doyoung notices your mind wandering and hears the tiny grumble of your stomach from hunger. “How about we go here? Looks like they have happy hour and a very nice aesthetic.”

He kneels down at the bed level to show you photos of the restaurant. It’s a large outside patio with decorative ambient string lights, vines of greenery hanging from the ceiling and the rustic wooden walls within the indoor portion of the restaurant.

Overall vibe of the place feels elevated, yet still trendy and modern. The food seems to be a fusion of Korean and Chinese cuisines and the prices look more than desirable.

“Half off main entree items and bottomless cocktails during happy hour?!” Sitting up, you’re grabbing Doyoung’s phone out of his hand to get a closer read on the menu. You’re in disbelief at such a good deal. “Let’s go!” You cheer, jumping up on your feet to pick an outfit for the night.

“I knew the bottomless cocktails will get you. You understand me, y/n.” Doyoung is as overjoyed as you, and you��re both happily smiling at each other without a thought about how good you make each other feel. Grabbing your flowy white romper, you change quickly in the room as Doyoung fixes up in the bathroom.

There is elegance in the white silk, yet it doesn’t make you look too overdressed or too casual. Leaning forward to the vanity, you’re clipping on some shiny earrings and the door opens behind you.

Doyoung steps out in that loose white button up you borrowed earlier today, three buttons unbuttoned from the neck to expose some of his toned chest, half tucked into his neat slacks. His hair is combed and styled back, getting a clear view of his sharp features and maturity. He looks so good, you almost start drooling.

“Oh, your zipper isn’t zipped all the way.” Doyoung breaks you out of your gawking. Without any hesitation, he walks up behind you and helps you with your zipper. This moment mirrors earlier events from this morning.

He chuckles, mostly to himself as he drags the zipper up and his eyes follow the trail of your spine to your eyes in the reflection. “How do you ever get yourself dressed when you need help getting dressed so often?”

“It’s a bit of a struggle, but I manage.” Straightening up your posture, Doyoung’s hand gently caresses your forearm. “But you definitely have made it easier for me today.” You’re still in shock as you watch Doyoung clip your bracelet around your wrist, dropping your arm back by your side ever so gently.

“I’m more than happy to be of assistance.” He clicks his tongue and this fleeting feeling of sensual tension finds itself lost again. Nonetheless, this moment is going to play like a loop of reruns in your mind the whole night.

Three and a half cocktails in, you’re both indulging in a conversation that makes no sense to either one of you but it’s a harmonious time. Your heart is pounding in your ears from the alcohol running circles in your bloodstream, but the moderately loud ambiance of the restaurant creates a good buzz. Doyoung is a cute shade of red before you, every sip making him dangerously close to losing his senses.

“I have to say, this has been the most fun I’ve had in awhile.” The bottom of his glass hits the table and finds its way perfectly in the right spot everytime. The look of content fills his red cheeks and you’re seriously so intoxicated that your mouth has a mind of its own.

“What do you mean?” You know what he means, but the alcohol is asking for more context and reassurance. Has it been fun because of the copious amounts of drinks you two have had after only sharing an appetizer? Or is it genuinely because of you?

“You’re so easy to talk to. I feel like I can talk to you for hours.” His gummy smile twinkles in the dim atmosphere, all because the thought of talking to you for hours makes him full of glee and happiness. He isn’t one to hold back a genuine compliment, he wants you to know how he feels about you as a person. Intimacy didn’t exist between the two of you before tonight, but that changes with every exchange of glances and sweet words.

The call of his name gets his attention, eyebrows raised and eyes as alert as they can be, “you’re one of the only people in this world that I could listen to for hours.” There is no stopping you at this point. Another compliment and you’re bound to confess a part of your heart tonight to him.

Doyoung nods, understanding every bit of where you’re coming from. He gets you like how you get him. “There has been a question that’s been on my mind since I met you.”

Your breath hitches at the actuality that he thought enough about you to have such curiosity. You lived in his brain when you truly believed he would never give you a second look. “Why have you and Johnny never dated?”

The laugh that creeps up your throat almost slips out from hearing the question, but Doyoung is more than serious with this revealed secret question he had been holding onto for so long. Clearing your throat, your finger lightly traces the rim of your glass as you really think hard about every reason you are not attracted to Johnny romantically.

“I’ve known him practically since birth, so he has always been a good brother to me.” It really is that simple, shrugging to show that it's nothing too deep. “While we meet people in a certain moment of their lives, that version of them freezes as the person you will always know them to be to you.”

Doyoung watches your finger dance around. “To me, Johnny will always be a booger-eating cry baby. The love I have for him is purely familial, as if he was the reason for every scraped elbow growing up or for my fear of abandonment when he left me in the grocery store aisles.”

He hums lovingly at your explanation. “I’m guessing you get that question pretty often.”

“Besides his current girlfriend, you’re the only other person who has asked.” Your chuckle makes Doyoung slightly embarrassed, can he be that obvious? It’s fine, you both won’t remember this night fully.

“A follow up question then,” Doyoung leans forward with his elbows digging into the white table cloth, “who am I to you?”

Your eyes widen, those words are enough to knock some sense back into you. Your heart continues to pound in your ears, but also drumming against your chest quickly with every possible way you could answer him.

His eyes stare down at you like prey, just waiting patiently and silently for you to speak. Doyoung’s demeanor may seem confident on the outside, but he is dying to know on the inside. “You’re Johnny’s best friend.”

He lets the disappointment subside, the whiplash in your face is enough indication that you weren’t prepared for such a question. Doyoung relaxes back in his chair, dropping his gaze and nodding at your simple answer. It doesn’t satisfy him, but he can’t be someone to ask for much in this situation.

“Who am I to you?”

Doyoung rolls his lips, debating if his answer will only produce fruitful reactions or you would be turned off. The alcohol has too much control over his choice of words, truthfully, the haziness surrounds his vision. “You’re y/n, Johnny’s cute friend who I can’t seem to get out of my mind.”

Something about Doyoung paying for dinner and his chivalrousness throughout the night oozes a romantic side of him you’re not used to. It felt as if you and Doyoung went on a real date together, even though it was curated off of unforeseen circumstances. Romance isn’t dead, as some may oppose. You could hope that Doyoung agreed.

“Doyoung, the shower is free for you now.” A towel wraps your wet hair up into a cone on your head, earning a small smile from Doyoung. He gathers his things and makes his way into the already steaming bathroom, your essence filling the tiny room.

You’re mindlessly scrolling on your phone, hearing the shower turn on and suddenly turn off. Then it hits you, you have walked out empty handed and your discarded clothes are still hanging on the glass door. You’re both quick at the door, but Doyoung beats you to open it from the other side.

His head pops out, the door slightly ajar. He is naked from the top down to the towel around his waist. Droplets dribble down his tone chest and stomach and your throat goes dry from the sight of him. “Don’t be embarrassed.” Doyoung says gently, holding out your dirty clothes in an orderly pile and your underwear visibly in the mix.

“Thank you.” Finding your words, you quickly take your belongings.

“I’m starting to think you’re doing this on purpose, y/n.” Doyoung clicks his tongue, a playful eyebrow raise and a corner of his lip turning upward into a smirk.

“No! I swear, you just make me so comfortable.. I’m treating this as if it’s my own space.” You’re coming to your senses, shutting the door on him so he couldn’t respond to such a ridiculous excuse. Your back hits the bathroom door, sliding down and huddling your laundry.

“I feel comfortable around you too.” You hear Doyoung say through the door. Though you couldn’t see him, a smile lies on his lips as he continues his nightly routine.

Some time passes, Doyoung enters the sheets before you and the anxiousness settles in your system when you know you have to eventually join him. He feels the shift in atmosphere, peering over at your hunched figure at the end of the bed.

“I can still sleep on the floor.” Pushing the blankets off of his body, he starts to get up. You’re fast to push his chest down, landing softly over him. You’re both unmoving in this position, out of pure shock of the sudden proximity.

Your eyes meet briefly, but you look away from his wide bunny eyes. “It’s okay. I don’t want you on the floor.”

His finger turns your chin to face him. The annoying pounding of your heart is loud in your eyes, aching from his hot touch and how you could seriously drown in his beautiful gaze. You’re wondering if he could hear it.

“Then, where do you want me?” Doyoung swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing at the sight of your lips before him and he is three seconds from diving into you. Completely stunned, obviously, taken aback by his bold question and the tension in the room seems to find its way back.

You want him in your arms. You want him suffocating you with his warm embrace. You want him where you are. Will he allow that? “The bed is fine.” The firmness in your voice assures Doyoung that you don’t feel unwavering. He would hate for you to feel the slightest uneasy. With a roll off of him, you’re planted on your back on the other side of the bed. Staring at the ceiling, you’re both processing the elephant that has overstayed its visit this entire day.

He has to have felt something. There is no way he could be that oblivious, you know he isn’t.

Pulling the sheets over your body, your back is facing Doyoung as he tries to find a good position to doze off in. Heat radiates off of your bodies underneath the blankets and you’re partly grateful to be sharing the bed with such a gorgeous man. Peering over your shoulder, Doyoung swipes on his phone aimlessly looking through the photos he took today.

He feels your curious eyes on him, “want to help me choose which ones I should keep?” Doyoung scoots a bit closer toward the middle of the bed, closing the distance between the two of you slowly.

As this man speedily scrolls through photo after photo, you’re too much in awe at how a simple photo could capture how handsome he is. You’re trying to be helpful, without saying much, but still trying. He deletes a random one at his distaste in a blink that you could barely keep up.

“Do, you look great in all of these.” You sigh, moving even closer to him as his shoulder hits your arm. You’re swiping a few photos back to one that caught your eye – gummy smile, hand covering his eyes, low light underneath the stars, one hand in his pants pocket. He is the perfect wallpaper material. “I like this one the best.”

“You can’t see my face in that one.” He laughs, “what do you like about it?”

“You look good.” It’s all you could say, anything more will tip the boat.

He instantly favorites it, moving on before he can dig anymore about your vague explanations. Swipe after swipe, a new angle, a new pose, a new facial expression but all in the same area. You’re starting to get sleepy at the endless miniscule details, but your eyes shoot open when he swipes upon a photo of you and then, quickly dismissing it as if you weren’t supposed to see.

“Was that me?” You ask, practically grabbing his phone. Doyoung sheepishly rubs the back of his neck, letting you scroll through his phone to find more pretty candids he took of you without you knowing. Progressively, you begin to see yourself in his perspective or maybe, he really is just that great at taking photos.

Nonetheless, you’ve never seen yourself like this. Hair in action, caught in the sweep of the wind. Your smile is as bright as the moon, very natural and genuine happiness painting your face at something stupid that Johnny probably said. There you are among your own laughter and excitement, Doyoung captured such beautiful parts of you that you didn’t know existed.

Doyoung breaks the silence between the both of you, slowly reading your facial reactions at the pictures. He slowly inches closer, his head slightly above your shoulder.

“I can’t help, but notice how happy you look when you laugh. Your smile is contagious.” He whispers, swiping a few more photos to land on one that you wouldn’t have even recognized was yourself.

Your right hand brushes your hair out of your face and you’re smiling from ear to ear. It had to be a moment at dinner with him. Doyoung knew the reason behind that gorgeous smile was him. “So pretty.” His voice leaves a chill down your spine and goosebumps to rise on your arms.

He perks up at the sound of his name, “I’m genuinely confused.” You say, setting his phone down and looking at him with eyebrows furrowed together. “I know you’re a nice person so it could be just your mannerisms or the intimacy of sharing a bed, but I don’t want to misunderstand your intentions.”

“Oh,” Doyoung shifts away from you, the bed dipping at the movement as he scoots back over to his side of the bed. “I’m sorry if I came off as overbearing.”

“No, that’s not what I mean.” You’re fighting with yourself, trying to decide if you should just confess. What is the worst that could happen? You’re stuck together in the same room for two more nights and he will know that you’re insanely attracted to him.

But there feels like a chance. You could be incredibly delusional and misreading everything. You sigh, unsure how to proceed with this conversation. Nonetheless, Doyoung can see how heavy your heart seems.

“Is there something I did?”

“No, forget it.” You’re pulling the blankets back over your body again, turning off the lamp on your side of the bed and staring up at the ceiling. Doyoung follows your lead, doing the same and the room falling into complete darkness. Your shaky breaths being the only audible noise in the silent space.

There is so much adrenaline in your throat, coursing through your veins at how close you are to just telling him.

“Just know that you can tell me anything. I know we’re not the closest of friends, but I feel like that’s sometimes better.” Doyoung turns to face you and you’re staring at him in the low light, making out the most gentle and comforting smile that puts your heart at ease.

“Doyoung, I like you and it’s not just because you’re a nice person, I have romantic feelings for you. I hope you can understand.” You’re all choked up that it makes Doyoung’s heart ache. Confessions are way harder than they need to be, but you did it. That's all that matters.

You didn’t need reciprocal feelings from him, you just needed him to be okay with it. He is silent for a while, his gaze dropping and wandering the sheets. He, too, is conflicted about how he should proceed.

Laying on your side, you face him fully. Doyoung peers up at the shift and his eyes are intensely gazing at you. Your heart is back thumping at your chest and drumming in your ears.

Before you know it, Doyoung is leaning forward and his lips land on yours softly. Your eyes remain open and in shock, but you kiss him back fruitfully. This long awaited kiss has finally fallen upon you, something you’ve wondered days on end how his lips taste.

Doyoung kisses your lips tenderly, almost as if he has waited for this moment too. Gliding effortlessly along yours and a sweet heat that lingers deliciously, he kisses like a shy romantic. You’re both too hesitant to touch one another, afraid of asking for too much. Your arms are stuck to your chest, hands in fists and tensions rising.

His knuckle lightly brushes your cheek, and as you close your eyes and settle into the kiss, you find yourself deepening it and free falling right into him. Desperation? It is the right amount to indicate how much you wanted it, how much you have craved him.

You are kissing Kim Doyoung. That thought alone could leave you grinning ear to ear for days. He doesn’t even know how much it affects you.

When you both pull away, Doyoung’s lips are pretty and plump. It compels you to give him a last quick peck and he chuckles cutely. His eyelids fall over his eyes ever so slowly, his long eyelashes dancing on his cheekbones and he looks surreal.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you this entire day.” Your heart would stop right there. His raspy confession has your whole face turning hot, “ever since I saw you in your pink swimsuit. You don’t know what you do to me.” He buries his shyness into his pillow. Seeing Doyoung like this is new, it’s so adorable that you don’t know how to react besides giggling at how shy he is. He usually holds himself up pretty well, getting embarrassed here and there by Johnny’s silly actions or boldness. Nonetheless, here he is, barely able to look you in the eyes and a pillow shielding his pretty face.

“Have you always felt this way?” Your fingers touch your lips, still in disbelief at the scandalous kiss you two just shared and coming to the realization that Doyoung could have felt this way this whole time.

“Since the moment I met you, you have always been endearing to me. But since you are practically Johnny’s non-biological sister, you felt out of reach.” Doyoung sighs, “I didn’t want to cross any boundaries or make it seem like I was some creep trying to hit on you through Johnny. I respect you a lot, y/n, and Johnny does too.”

His voice grows soft and his words are still so kind. Doyoung is effortlessly sweet and chivalrous. At times, you question how he and Johnny managed to be the best of friends. Doyoung is so outwardly soft and feminine, emotionally attuned and safe. Johnny is all those things as well, but not as clear as Doyoung.

Growing up, Johnny always felt like he needed someone like Doyoung to reassure him that boys can cry too. Although you never imagined that you would stumble upon a dream man like Doyoung, he lays next to you in bed with endless thoughts of you running at full speed in his head.

“I’m speechless.”

“I can tell.” Doyoung smiles, “I’ve kept my distance enough to not give you any impression of interest.” He coyly puts his arms behind his back and peers over at how stunned you look blinking back at him. “Let’s sleep, I want you to rest up for the day tomorrow.”

“I feel like this is going to keep me awake.” You slide down to lay firmly on your side to face him.

“Will sleeping in my arms help?” Doyoung extends his arm out for you to snuggle up next to him. You’re practically losing your mind at how forward he is, it’s as if five minutes early he wasn’t all shy about confessing to you. “Sorry, too much.”

Nonetheless, you dive right into him like it's all you’ve ever known. Your face hits his chest and the scent of his laundry detergent immediately hits your nose. His warm arm wraps around your upper back as he presses you closer. Planting a delicate kiss on your forehead, Doyoung rubs soothing circles on your back to help you sleep.

So if this was a dream, you hope to never wake from it.

The stuffy morning has you and Doyoung tiptoeing around one another. When you had woken up, Doyoung was already in the bathroom to freshen up and prepare for the day. You both had exchanged small good mornings before you had also disappeared into the bathroom. Now, you two silently get ready in your own corners of the room and nothing but the sound of clattering fills the air.

Did he have a sudden change in heart? You grow more confused with this man as it turns from day to night. Doyoung looks over his shoulder at you, noticing the eerie silence in the room.

“How did you sleep?” He asks, clearing his throat awkwardly. Good thing you two didn’t fuck or anything, you feel like that would make this moment even more awkward than it already is.

“Fine. You?”

Doyoung laughs, mostly to himself, as he remembers the position you two woke up in. “Seems like someone couldn’t let go of me last night, so I would say it was pretty good.”

Your embarrassment doesn’t shy away from being evident. Slowly, you turn to face him. Doyoung leans against the wall a relaxed fit, hair nicely falling above his eyebrows and a grin so taunting, you wouldn’t have believed it was his. He notices your lip quiver before you begin to speak and he reassures you once more.

“Don’t be embarrassed. It’s cute.” Doyoung makes his way toward you, his delicate hands holding your forearms quite lovingly and his kind smile tries to make you feel better. You both gaze into each other’s eyes like they’re all you’ve ever known in life.

This is so romantic. You’ve forgotten that you two aren’t dating.

“Would it be too much of an ask for us to start seeing each other?” He shakes his head without hesitation. Kissing your forehead, he can literally see how beautifully you admire him.

“I want to be with you.” He draws you in tighter. “I want to be yours.” Doyoung whispers. A chill runs down your spine. “However, you have to let me take you out on a proper date before we settle things. One where I ask you out, pick you up and bring you your favorite flowers.”

“I’d really love that.” It is no joke how incredibly immersed in this man you are. Never in your dreams would you think that a moment like this would exist between the two of you.

All it took was sharing a bed. If only Johnny had thought of that sooner.

[mizgnomer]

Behind the Scenes of The Star Beast - Part Nine

Excerpt from Emily Cook's interview with Miriam Margolyes for Doctor Who Magazine #596:

It was Tom’s Fourth Doctor, albeit in comic form, who originally encountered Beep the Meep in Doctor Who Weekly’s comic strip Doctor Who and the Star Beast, published in 1980. Ten Doctors later, the story is revived for television featuring David Tennant as the Time Lord. As fate would have it, a couple of months before she was cast in Doctor Who, Miriam had lunch with David. “A mutual friend arranged it,” Miriam explains. “I’d never met David before. I was so nervous of meeting him on my own. I was worried he’d find me boring, so I thought I better invite somebody who would be more interesting than me. So I asked Julian Clary. I thought I was going to be affecting an introduction between David and Julian, but I hadn’t realised they knew each other already because they’d previously worked together. But it was wonderful. I loved meeting David and his wife Georgia. I thought they were heavenly. Lovely people. The sort of people who you’d want to know. I think David’s an exceptional performer. I love that thing he does with the Welshman [Staged, with Michael Sheen]. That’s terribly clever. I loved Broadchurch, too. And he played the serial killer Dennis Nilsen [in Des, 2020]. He’s able to convey a reality gap with characters on the edge so profoundly. He’s quite brilliant. So just knowing him is lovely. I couldn’t believe he wanted to know me. That truly amazed me.” As part of their lunchtime conversation, David expressed surprise that Miriam had never done a Doctor Who before. She has, of course, previously voiced a Blathereen in The Sarah Jane Adventures alongside Simon Callow. “I’d forgotten I’d done that,” says Miriam. “I mean, I’ll do anything for money. I was very jealous of Simon Callow who played Charles Dickens in Doctor Who [in 2005’s The Unquiet Dead], because he’s a friend, and a great Dickens scholar.

Additional parts of this set are in the #whoBtsBeast tag. The full episode list is [ here ]

[beepbeepdespair]

yall seemed to really like the last round of bugsnax thoughts so here are more i guess. i would link to the post i read the filbo and cromdo theory in but i cant find it sorry. NO SPOILERS PLEASE. once again featuring @emiwith2braincells