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#i got all sentimental towards the end
tojisun · 3 months
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!! suggestive (and mini smut) - minors dni; bimbo (fem)!reader has simon wrapped around her pinky (we luv to see it!); the squad’s here too; hinted age difference (30s v. 20s)
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when they ask him where you two met, simon always tries his best to tamp down the smile threatening to grace his lips before clearing his throat and answering, "in the ER."
the questions that follow are always repetitive: 'what, why?', 'what happened?', 'how did things even go from there?' the last one is often paraphrased into some other versions, but the sentiment remains – people always get surprised, reduced into awkward stumbling because how could you even segue into a romantic relationship from having met in the ER?
well, simon thinks, it's actually quite fucking simple.
it was three in the morning and simon was in the lobby, waiting to be called in, when he saw you walk in: you clutched your broken heeled shoes in your hands, your beautiful legs were bearing injuries and cuts, and your hair was a wild mess. then, you ambled towards a baffled triage nurse.
"hi!" simon recalls your melodic voice echo, sounding too hyper even when you looked all banged up. "can i use y'r restroom? we got kicked outta the club."
simon was so focused on you that he didn't even notice the pack of girls following behind you, all of them looking just as haggard and bruised up. one of your friends was actually worryingly injured, so it’s no shock when the nurse rushed towards her, slightly panicked and confused before steering your friend away, leaving you there in the lobby.
then, you turned around, frowning at having been ignored, and it gave simon the best vantage point of finally seeing your face. he swears his heart stuttered in his chest, his lungs constricting, because holy shit, you are beautiful.
"then the rest is history," simon ends, pulling you close to him. any closer and you would have ended on his lap – something he preferred, anyway – but johnny continues to stare at the two of you with a slack jaw, his eyes almost bulging out in confusion so simon tries to keep it civil.
you giggle, and simon watches as the rest of the squad snap their eyes on you, as though expecting you to grace them with a better explanation. but simon knows that you probably don't even know what's going on, having been busy tapping away on your phone, your acrylics making distinct clacks as they hit the screen.
"i love the history channel," you singsong, batting your eyelashes as you give them a dimpled smile. "simmy-" simon almost coos at the nickname you gave him, "and i looove watching the penguins."
simon presses a kiss on the top of your head, ignoring the bewildered looks his squad is shooting him.
"that's the 'animal planet', love. not the history channel," simon corrects gently, rubbing his hand down your side.
"oh!" you say, unbothered by your mistake. "okay!"
and that was that.
"what the fuck," simon hears johnny wheeze out only to up making choking noises when kyle elbows him. simon ignores them, choosing to watch as you turn back to your phone, mass-retweeting a series of post made by the magazine catalogue that you've been following.
cute.
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"fuck," simon hisses, feeling the sharp edge of the kitchen knife slicing through the first layer of his skin. he watches the blood bead, trickling down his finger, and simon wipes it before it can stain the pristine green – "sage!" you tutted to him once – countertops.
"si?" you ask, padding towards the kitchen at the clamour. he feels you press yourself to his side, your perky tits nuzzling his robust muscles. "what's goin- y'r bleeding!"
he grunts, frowning at himself for having made you worry. he moves to reassure you that he's okay, but you're already tugging him out of the kitchen, your smaller hand wrapped around his thicker wrist.
god, he loves seeing the size difference.
you're wearing his military shirt, the material sliding down your body beautifully, before pooling just above your perky ass. simon unabashedly stares at the way your ass jiggles – hidden underneath the tiniest booty shorts he knows you own – his throat bone dry and his sweats filling up all of a sudden.
he barely realizes that you two are in the bathroom until you're steering him towards the edge of the bathtub before twisting to fish the emergency kit from the floor cabinets. simon almost groans at the perfect shape that your ass makes when you bend over, feeling himself throb with raging desire.
you pull out a pink emergency kit and skitter towards him again, slotting yourself between his spread legs. simon raises his hand – the uninjured one – to grasp at your waist, sliding it down to your hips, before giving it a reassuring squeeze.
"it's nothin' fatal, sweet'art," simon mumbles, thumbing your hipbone as he tries to comfort you.
you're still pouting at him when you say, "sure, i guess. but lemme help you?"
and who is simon to say no to that?
"of course, love."
he lets out a quiet chuckle when you press your glossed lips on his forehead, unbothered even when your lips leave a sticky stamp on his skin.
he watches you disinfect his wound with a strawberry-scented sanitizer before wrapping a pink adhesive bandage around it. his worries about having his open wound disinfected by a glittery sanitizer fade away when you picked his hand up to place a kiss on his now-bandaged finger.
glitter-induced infections no longer matter. not when simon's getting nursed to full health by such a pretty girl.
he licks the back of his teeth, clenching his jaw, and thinks, you deserve a reward, don't you, sweetness?
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johnny blanches when he sees the bandage around simon's finger. "LT, what in fuck's name is that?"
his loud voice snags the attention of garrick and their captain who ambled their way towards him upon hearing the commotion. garrick chokes on nothing when he sees the pink bandage that simon's sporting.
"bandage," simon replies, pride heavy in his voice. "from my girl."
johnny whirls and shoots a pointed look towards kyle and john. kyle is the one who breaks the silence.
"…are they safe for use?"
"what's the cat even bandaging?" johnny adds.
simon huffs, flicking his finger up to give the squad a better view. "firstly, this is 'hello kitty'. secondly, you questionin' my girl’s ability to care for me?"
john coughs, looking away, kyle arches a brow at him like the answer should be obvious, and johnny gulps loudly, before mumbling, "...yes."
simon sniffs, unable to blame them. "yeah, well, don't."
the squad is still quiet. waiting.
simon finally gives in and replies, "i checked. they're safe for use."
he rolls his eyes at their dramatic sigh.
"that's good to hear," john says before clapping his hands together once, urging them to disperse.
simon grumbles all the way back to his room.
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simon loves his pretty, dumb girlfriend to death.
he loves seeing you dolled up – skimpy dresses made of silk material paired with heels that could honestly stab someone to death. he also loves seeing you in nothing but his ratty jumpers – loose black sweaters stopping just after your crotch and the sleeves falling past your fingers.
but nothing tops seeing you naked and crying for him.
nothing could ever top this – your legs folded close to your chest, your ankles hooked on his shoulders, your pretty make up running as tears trickle from the corners of your eyes and flood your cheeks.
he thrusts his fingers in your cunt again, breathless when it punches out another slick gush of your squirt, drenching you two even more. you squeal, body locking, your hips lifting from the bed. simon has to press down on your belly to keep you stable.
"siii!" you cry out, thrashing on his hold, but simon just kisses your leg as he continues to fuck his fingers in you.
"shh," simon murmurs, feeling so choked up at the sight you make. "one more for me, yeah?"
you moan out a reply, a garbled mixture of 'yes' and his name, before wrapping your hands around his arms, your acrylics digging into his skin. simon doesn't even register the pain, still too caught up at fingering you to feel the way you're clawing him.
still too caught up at how perfect you are for him.
(later, when he checks the mirror and sees the angry red welts, simon purrs at the sight of them. because simon loves being marked by you, doesn't matter how, as long as he has bearings of your pleasure. pleasure he gave you.)
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simon receives a video message from you. it’s nothing long or conspicuous, but simon still chokes when he finally gets to watch it.
because in the video, you’re wearing simon’s old varsity shirt on top of your university cheer uniform.
“look!” you chirp, twirling for him. “found this in the closet!”
simon slams his captain’s door open and demands a vacation leave.
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the lieutenant has a new tattoo and johnny doesn't know what the actual shit it's supposed to be.
it looks like a wriggly blob of a... cloud? a cotton ball? candy floss?
it was still a somewhat fresh tattoo so simon never truly shows it off – johnny doesn't even know if it's worthy of being shown off – until one night at a bar, simon rolls up the sleeves of his jumper and leans to the squad to point at the blob.
"lookit," he slurs, tipsy and just a touch giddy.
finally, johnny cheers to himself before reaching forward to poke just beside the scribble.
"what's it?"
"mittens," their lieutenant croons, smiling down at his skin like a weirdo.
johnny has seen enough mittens to know that whatever that fucking squiggle is isn't mittens.
"uhm," kyle says, thankfully thinking along the same lines as johnny. "is it?"
"yeah," simon says wistfully, drunken in a lovesick way. "s'my girl's cat. she drew it f'r me."
oh. well, fuck. now that's just too cute.
wait.
"that's a drawing of a cat?" johnny rasps out, choking on his spit before turning to study the tattoo again.
it's still a fucking blob.
christ.
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weirdmageddon · 7 months
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i love these tags this person is so right
actually, can you imagine if dave was raised by B1 roxy?
i wanna get into this actually
(ok i had to spend a few hours rewriting this because IT DIDNT FUCKING SAVE AFTER FIVE HOURS OF WRITING WHEN MY COMPUTER UPDATED WHILE I WAS AFK so it would mean a lot to show this post some appreciation. i LOVEEE hearing what other people have to say)
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even though these things mom does are presented in an extravagant, kitsch, jokey way, her intentions always came from a place of sincerity. she is simply Funnie
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but rose reads too far into it and assumes things that aren't there, that her mother is passive-aggressively feigning interest in rose's interests simply because the things she does are so extra. "why do all of this if not to mock me"
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im telling you right now if dave lived in this household he wouldn't assume antagonism, he'd go,
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don’t forget who LITERALLY patented tangible jpeg artifacts as their post-scratch adult self and scattered shitty scummed up statue of liberties all over the planet. theres no way some of that overboard artful shit wasnt post-ironic / circling back around to genuine funny sincerity
dave's natural state is funny sincerity like roxy. he's had the natural capacity for this type of humor from the start and this is the direction he goes towards when he grows out of his brother's shadow by the end of the comic. dave and roxy share an earnest “so bad its good” type of humor
(lots more under the cut; the length of this meta analysis just got unwieldly with all the pictures and whatnot)
despite the alcoholism, roxy is a supportive mother. she's not the ideal guardian but hells of a lot more supportive of her kid than bro is. if she knew dave's interests she would totally indulge in them with some over the top silly goofy haha shit as a genuine gesture simply because she loves him
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rose isn't too keen on it though. but she is more similar to dirk in her natural state of thinking of overthinking shit and assuming the worst, like the tags said
and yes dave got the sweet cuddly yet sometimes backhanded ouppy gene from roxy, probably even moreso lol
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roxy's even said rose "sounds like girl dirk"
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side tangent here, but this is something i wanna talk about.
i dont think bro should ever be in custody of children ever but if theres anyone who would be up to the task it's rose probably. i know she'd be able to keep up with him. not only does she have a defined personality (dave is more malleable and absorbs his environment like a sponge), if anyone can pick apart B1 dirk's batshit brain and probably be right on the money it's her. lil cal has been pumping patriarchal nonsense into bro's head and rose would be able to bring the fucking facts to the table without losing her own and being a living example of a badass little girl. i also don't think bro would try to force masculine roles onto rose like he did with dave, seeing as she is a girl, so she would actually have more of a leg up and get some passes that dave was never afforded. and rose wouldn't stand idly and accept any bullshit; she is no doormat. and i think this would earn bro's respect
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but anyway, from this, couldn't we conclude roxy "sounds like girl dave"?
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yeah okay. we havent even gotten into their penchant for funny typos or misspeaks, deliberate or otherwise
so, dave's environment
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the sentiment "god you hope you can be as good as your bro at this some day" might have been genuine at the time when he idolized bro but of course he's not able to express that in any sort of sincere fashion because he's in dirk's fucking household. and this level 10 irony shit isnt doing dave any favors
his role models were the Internet and a vague idea of what Bro was like. So he built up his facade based on irony–not the literary definition of irony, as Rose might be quick to point out, but a popular concept of irony based on the idea that things that didn’t make sense actually made sense in some roundabout way. As a master of irony, Dave probably reasoned, he could see in a way other people couldn’t why a world that was scary and didn’t make sense really did make sense, and could therefore convince those people that he was superior to them. And he would wield his knowledge to maintain the appearance of superiority by calling everything ironic and pretending he didn’t care about things that didn’t make sense, and he would use walls of vaguely rhyming words to keep everyone at arm’s length so they wouldn’t discover his insecurities (source)
roxy's style is the embodiment of post-irony. being raised by mom lalonde would be like being raised by joel vinesauce ok
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what can i say ….. (getting meta about this actually, hussie got these jpeg wizard wallpapers from a spyware website. link takes some time to load because internet archive)
rose is quick to read post-irony as actually being a joke/insincere, which in bro's case would be true. but i believe dave's natural instinct, outside of the influence of bro, is to read post-irony as genuine, which is exactly how mom serves it. we see this as early as act 3 from him; he understands her motives better than rose does herself:
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and in act 6 intermission 2 i think it's pretty clear
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but the thing is, it's always genuine from her. dave wouldn't have to second guess it because he's not one to naturally second guess someone's sincerity; that was learned due to his bro being virtually unassailable
there two types of ironies at play here:
seems like a joke, is actually genuine (roxy)
doesnt seem like a joke, is actually a joke (dirk)
you can make the argument that the second is is more psychologically destructive because it makes you question the reality of what is genuine sentiment and what isn't. dave never knew what was genuine and what was irony so he just sort of existed in this sincerity-ironic limbo and always did the opposite of what he genuinely felt on principle even if it always did originate from a genuine place.
"it just a joke bro i was just being ironic i dont actually x" is so much more trust-breaking and psychologically damaging than "wait are you being serious" / "i am being so fucking fr rn davy gravy" / "ok thats actually pretty fucking awesome. giant ass wizard statue" / "RIGHT"
how much about dave would change do you think? his character arc would be completely different for one thing, i think he'd have it good aside from mom's alcohol issues. he'd be left with the sweet and funny parts of him that we see at the end of the comic. the fake coolguy stuff is out, but this remains. this is dave in his element and we see it as early as act 1
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he'd probably have no shades growing up in the lalonde residence* either cause those were given to him by bro straight out of the crater as an extension of his own cool image. and john gave dave ben stiller’s aviators for his 13th birthday to replace them so he could “spread his wings”
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dave said he was wearing them for the ironies but i kind of doubt it. maybe post-irony but there was some reacharound to it being genuine because dave never put those pointy anime shades on his face again.
*though... it’s kind of hard to imagine him without his shades at all? B2 dave still got stiller’s shades from stiller himself so maybe getting them is a universal constant. i can imagine mom getting him them as a birthday gift cause shes pretty wealthy and probably could buy it out in an auction. but also itd be cool if john still gave him it as a gift
dave is actually a lot more genuine and easy to read than he lets on even when grappling with his upbringing with B1 dirk (again, see this post). this can be seen all throughout he comic but a good example is the evolution of thoughts about his interest in the preserved dead things in his room:
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if B1 roxy was dave's guardian he probably WOULD have pursued paleontology because she wouldve indulged him in it and probably find it cool and worthwhile to pursue, instead of allowing dave to flounder under ironic detachment, being poisoned by irony to the point of gaslighting himself into believing he doesnt actually believe he thinks this shit is cool. even if it was indulged in this such a way; a superficially kitsch and ironic appearing presentation, it comes from a genuine place and inspires genuine interest. just read the comments.
basically, i think if B1 roxy raised dave, their relationship would have a surface level appearance of being bizarre or over-the-top but they’d have an unsaid mutual understanding that it’s completely in earnest and just build on each other's funny and absurd gestures of affection. rather than seeing it as one-upping each other, it'd more like collaboration of some silly bullshit that you take a step back and look at full and just say, "fucking incredible"
speaking of paleontology, mom had the proto-ectobiology lab. maybe they'd be able to use the equipment to appearify paradox ghost imprints of the dead shit to create paradox clones of things from the cambrian era??? sounds like a fun mother son bonding activity. and theyd actually put the sciencey shit in the household to use
oh god i know exactly the kinds of music shed listen too also growing up as a teen in the 80s. she on that (post)-punk/art rock/new wave/new romantic mtv stuff. XTC shit fr. this is a B-52S HOUSEHOLD. maybe the associates for the campy melodramatic flair. so he gets to keep the record on his shirt cause he is an enjoyer of the shit in her vinyl collection. dave would still gravitate towards musical expression and music itself but of more variety outside of just rap, with an 80s-90s, even 70s flavor due to mom’s influence. see this for perhaps a glimpse. ​she probably visited new york city a lot for business trips and because the music scene was cool as hell around that time, imports came straight from jfk airport, she probably got in on that a bit and have remnants in the form of vinyls and cassettes. in this way she could be distributing void to dave (influencing him with forgotten / presently irrelevant music). now he can REALLY rave about bands none of his friends have heard of. “hey davy grvay watcha listenin to” (he holds up vinyl cover) “omg snakefinger”
btw dave lalonde would look like this to me
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sinsofsummers · 9 months
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sensational; part ii
6.8k | joel miller x f!innocent!reader follow-up to sensational
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summary: you've tasked joel with teaching you about all of the things you missed. he's back for more...teaching moments. warnings: smut (duh), 18+, mdni. softdom!joel vibes in this one, joel gives reader an anatomy lesson, pet names (lots of dollface) fingering, praise kink to the gods, masturbation (f and brief m), reader gives joel a hand(y), grinding, bit of a corruption kink toward the end, jesus there might need to be a part 3 note: well. look at what you guys did. you went and loved on sensational so much and asked for a part 2 so often that i just had to grant your wishes. i hope you’re fckn happy✌🏼🥹 (this is all jokes i’m so excited to write more of this dynamic teehee)
You'd never counted yourself as a dreamer of any sort; when sleep clouded your brain at night, every thought faded along with it. Aside from the occasional nightmare, reminding you of your parents' absence, you hadn't had an actual dream since you were a kid.
Of course, that night in Joel's house had changed everything, in every possible way. In just an hour or so he had taken your world into his hands, shaped it, flipped it, and returned it to you, unrecognizable. His name was carved into everything you saw and touched, and this included your dreams.
He was everywhere in your head when you slept. So much so that you'd begun to forget which was reality and which was a figment of your imagination, which made your patrols with him all the more humiliating.
Your hands were cold. It was all you could focus on as you followed Joel along your normal patrol route. Just twelve hours had passed since that night in his house, when he'd touched you with rough hands and what taught you what it meant to feel desired. His words still rang clear in your head days later:
Trust me, doll. I've got so much more to teach you.
It sent your head reeling just to think about it now. The memory of his fingertips grazing the side of your face as he'd said it, those brown eyes sparkling with desire for you—a vision of contentment.
You had leaned into his touch subconsciously, reaching a hand up to trace the line of his wrist. His eyes had darted to where your fingers pressed to his skin, a soft grin replacing his satisfied smirk. "I'd better get you home, then," he'd whispered.
It had taken everything in you to ignore the small pang of disappointment that had bloomed in your gut, but it was an easier task when he'd dropped his lips to your forehead.
"No one'll miss me at home," you'd protested quietly, trying not to relish too much in the feeling of his beard scratching at the space between your eyebrows.
This sentiment was true. You still didn't know how things had worked out so well, but after arriving in Jackson, Tommy (the fact that it was Joel's younger brother made this seem all the less coincidental) and Maria had been more than accommodating. They'd offered you your own space, a house to yourself. Granted, it was much smaller than Joel's, but it was your own. It had become home in the four short years you'd lived in Jackson.
No one was waiting for you at home. It was a fact that used to make your throat close up, memories taunting you every moment they could. Now it was a welcomed thought, if it meant that you could remain in the heady presence of Joel Miller.
But he'd only shaken his head, his brown eyes flitting down to your lips before returning to your gaze. "I'm sure they'll notice when you don't come strolling out of your own place in the mornin'," he'd insisted gently. His thumb traced your bottom lip when your shoulders slumped. You hoped you didn't look as pitiful as you felt, your lip threatening to push outward in a pout.
"Might not be able to keep my hands to myself tonight if I let you stay," he'd breathed. You didn't care if he said it as an apology, or if it was actually true.
Because who were you to disagree with him? It was Joel.
So without more than a lingering hand on your wrist, he'd walked you to your door. When you'd teased him for such a chivalrous act, he'd cocked an eyebrow, glancing sideways at you. "Can't just let you walk home alone after that," he'd scoffed, his voice rough again in the outdoors. A few people were still milling about despite it being darker than pitch after nightfall. "M'not a complete scoundrel," he said with a wry grin.
Your front door always looked so inviting, a place for you to take a breath and relax after a long day. In that moment, it was taking everything in you to put one foot in front of the other and return to your own place.
"Scoundrel," you'd mused, hoping the amusement in your voice covered the way you leaned back with every step, as if you could claim one more touch of his body—arm, chest, shoulder—to send you to bed with nothing but him on your mind. "Kind of a big word, wouldn't you say?" you'd teased him, just as he'd done to you. "Sure you know what it means?"
The twitch of his jaw was enough of a reward for your attempt at humor, but your satisfied smirk had been wiped clean off your face when he'd darted a glance around before leaning in, hovering just centimeters from your face.
It occurred to you in that moment that you'd truly only kissed him once. A shame, a voice in your head sighed. His lips were devastatingly plump, even in the darkness.
Joel had stayed there, his eyes tearing down to your mouth before warning you in that deliciously low baritone, "I know what it is. Best get inside," his jaw twitched once more and you caught him clenching and unclenching his fists, "'fore I show you what it means to be a scoundrel."
You'd gone inside with a shaky breath and the return of that familiar pulse that, it seemed, only he knew how to ignite.
Joel chose not to look in the mirror when he'd gone home that night. He wasn't sure he'd be able to stand the way his hair was undoubtedly wild, his eyes hard with desire, and his hands still aching with the memory of her squirming body in his lap.
After four years of near silence, this girl had unraveled him. After all those days on patrol with her, nothing to do except look at her when she wouldn't notice, Joel Miller had been undone.
The next day, waking up early with the stiffness in his boxers begging to be dealt with, Joel spit on his palm and wrapped it around his cock, releasing a sigh. Fuck's sake, he thought with a groan. Can't hardly get a full night's sleep anymore.
It should have annoyed him; it was certainly an inconvenience. But if it meant that he'd get to spend more time thinking about her body and her lips and her eyes when she asked those incessant questions, then so be it. He'd never sleep another wink and be glad for it.
It didn't take long for his release to come, not when the memories of her whines were so fresh in his mind. To think that he'd had her on his lap, hips squirming in that way that only she knew...it was enough to make him—"A grown fuckin' man," he reminded himself—spill into his hands and draw ragged breaths into his lungs to recover.
With an arm thrown across his face, he latched onto the image of her in the heat of ecstasy, her eyelids fluttering shut and her lips wet from constantly biting them.
For a moment, he tried to rein himself in. Can't be doin' this, he'd thought while getting ready for patrol that morning. Don't wanna take advantage of her, or fuck her up cause of my inability to control my own desires.
In reality, he'd considered, did she really know what she was getting herself into? With little more knowledge than the mechanics of reproduction, it had been evident with the events of the previous night that she knew nothing of what pleasure could be. Did he really want to be responsible for her discovery of such things?
But when he went to the stables an hour later and saw her standing in the snow with an extra twinge in her grin and her eyes sparkling despite the echoes of fatigue in her irises, every doubt dissipated immediately. He pretended not to notice the way her eyes lingered on his back when they saddled up, heading out of Jackson for the day.
Joel Miller was never one to deny a woman in need. Why should he have stopped now?
"How'd you sleep?"
When you looked over at him, almost shocked that he'd broken the silence, your eyebrow quirked up. "Fine," you answered.
It wasn't that this patrol had been disappointing, it was just...ever since you'd left Jackson that morning, you'd been waiting for him to look at you like he had the night before, or to even acknowledge you in the way that you could still remember him doing.
Maybe it was because Tommy was nearby at the time, or maybe he'd changed his mind after all. Maybe you'd overstepped, asking a man so much older than you to teach you all of this. Maybe it hadn't happened at all—your dreams were rather convincing these days.
If it hadn't been for those girls, hell-bent on making you feel ostracized, perhaps you wouldn't have landed yourself in this position. You probably wouldn't have had any reason to be curious about what it all meant, and you could have gone on in comfortable silence with him on your patrols.
With a heavy mind, you blew out a breath. If it hadn't been for those girls, though—you never would have known the creases that sank into the corners of his eyes when he grinned at you.
Beside you, having held back to come up shoulder-to-shoulder, Joel huffed. "Bullshit, darlin'," he scoffed, casting a sideways glance in your direction.
You tightened your hands on the reins. "Excuse me?" you said sharply.
His chuckle was a soft rumble in his chest, and you ached to feel it against your back. "I saw those sleepy eyes at the stables," he crooned, the corners of his eyes crinkling just like you remembered. "Looks like someone didn't get a good night's sleep."
"Oh, and I'm just supposed to believe you slept like a damn baby, then?" You couldn't help the incredulity in your tone, but you blushed when you noticed him smirking, his lips twitching as he fought a smile away.
"'Course not," he shook his head almost dismissively. "Couldn't tell my brain to stop conjurin' pictures of you shakin' in my lap." He adjusted the way he was seated on his horse, and you couldn't help but wonder if he was getting hard at the reminder of the memory.
You, in a similar vein, were trying to ignore the unmistakable feel of heat puddling between your legs. Keeping your eyes forward, you asked, "Is that a good thing?"
Joel nodded. "A very good thing, dollface. You were so good for me last night."
Any air that had been in your lungs left in a rush, and you put a hand to your cheek, warm despite the winter's wind. You thought you heard yourself whine at the sound of the pet name.
Thankfully, he didn't say or do anything to show that he'd noticed. Instead, he tugged his horse to a stop. "Let's get down here," he said. "Walk and talk, yeah?"
The thought of walking beside him after all that had happened the night before was enough to make you freeze in your saddle, suddenly unsure of how to get down. "Yeah," you mumbled, if only to fill the silence.
You could hear the crunch of snow under his boots as he came up beside you, thick gloved hands reaching for your waist. "C'mon, darlin'," he'd insisted, "I won't bite."
There was a note of irony in his tone, and you let him pull you from your saddle, landing in the snow in front of him. Your jacket snagged against his, and you stood there for a moment, letting your frosty wisps of breath coil and furl with his. "What do you mean?" you asked, cursing your ever-present confidence when it came to asking him questions. It seemed that you'd never learn to hold your tongue.
"Hmm?" he hummed in response. "What's what mean?" He stepped away from you to grab the reins in his hand and began to walk forward in the snow.
You shook your head and pushed on, stumbling after him. When did the snow get so deep? "You sounded rather..." you trailed off, searching for the word.
"Oh, here it comes," he mused in that serious tone, hardly covering the teasing lilt that rang clear in his eyes. "Bet you're coming up with a big word right about now, huh?"
You couldn't help it when you rolled your eyes and swatted a hand at the back of his arm. "I was going to say you sounded smug," you finished. "About how you won't bite?"
There it was again. That look of slight surprise at your questions. You waited for a few moments, the two of you trudging along in the snow, before he answered quietly. "We're jumpin' ahead of ourselves, but I s'pose it won't hurt." He shrugged. "Some people like it. Biting."
You furrowed your eyebrows. "Like it?" You looked down at your hands, covered in thick gloves. "Doesn't it hurt?"
Joel smirked. "It can," he considered, "if the person gettin' bitten wants it like that." He brushed your arm with his. "But some people don't like it at all. Just depends."
You braved a look up at his face and swallowed roughly, feeling your core pulse at the sight of his rosy cheeks. "Does it have to hurt?" You didn't mean to sound so desperate; you were just curious. "I mean, is it like...like a real bite?"
It happened so quickly that you hardly had a moment to process. Joel stopped in his tracks, pulled you near, and dipped his head down to your ear. "Don't have to," he murmured, and you were just starting to quiver at the feel of his voice next to your ear when he was brushing your hair from your neck and grazing his teeth against your skin. "Can feel good, if the person doin' the biting knows how."
You couldn't help the hand that shot out to grab his arm, as if it were the only thing that might hold you up. "I'm assuming you know how," you said thickly, eyes wandering on his weathered face. Funny, you thought at the sight of his grin, he looks quite young like this.
Joel shifted his arm so he could squeeze your hand once with his before letting it go. "Don't boost my ego too high, sweetcheeks," he warned, but you could hear the humor in his voice. "Might never let go if you do."
You knew he was kidding, but the prospect that he was being serious made your stomach flutter and forced you to clench your thighs together, bringing the forefront of your attention back to the frustration that was pooling between your legs. "Joel," you muttered in a whine, not quite realizing you'd said it until he was looking at you with a twinge of concern.
"What's up, doll?" he asked, slowing to a stop. "Somethin' wrong?"
A curly tendril of his graying hair was blown into his face with the winter wind, and you wished you could brush it away with your fingers like he'd done just moments ago. "I..." you inhaled deeply, and shifted your weight. "I'm..."
It took him a moment to understand, and when he did, his eyes sparkled. "Oh, doll," he cooed, reaching forward to tug you closer to him. "Need something', huh?"
You leaned your head forward until your forehead rested against him, breathing in the scene of pine and old leather and that heady musk that was utterly Joel. Nodding into his strong chest, you brought your hand up to his wrist and tugged it down, down, down...there.
Joel's large hand cupped the mound between your legs and you swallowed harshly as it pulsed again, begging for the sweet release he'd given you the night before. "Fuck," he breathed, the vibrations of his voice rolling against your skin. "Shoulda told me you were this bothered, baby," he hummed.
You lifted your head. "I've been trying," you said in a pitiful whine, although this wasn't entirely true, and he knew it. "Why does it...why do I ache so bad?"
His smirk quivered, and his pupils were suddenly huge as he withdrew his hand from where it covered your heat, exposing it to the frigid winter air once more. "I think we've gone far enough, don't you?" he winked. "Think we may as well head back."
The implications of what would happen when you got back to Jackson made your head spin. Nodding feverishly, you let go of the twinge of embarrassment at your eagerness. "Yes, please," you hiccuped.
His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip. "Good," he murmured.
This was the worst possible outcome.
Just when you'd worked up to exactly where you wanted to be with Joel, with his hands on you and his intentions leading you back to his house (and hopefully his couch), Tommy stopped you at the stables.
Well, not you. Not you at all, actually. He stalked up to his older brother and said, Meeting at my place, Joel."
He'd just gotten down from his saddle to help you do the same and was letting his hands linger on your waist when the interruption happened. With his hungry eyes locked on yours, he'd been leaning into your touch and hovering his hands just inches from your heat.
You could have sworn he jumped out of his skin at the sound of Tommy's voice; you just hoped it was because of his infamous hearing loss on his ride side and decidedly not because he'd been caught standing so close to you.
"We just had a meeting last week," he said gruffly, his eyes still searching yours. For what, you weren't sure—but you were quickly growing addicted to finding those rare flecks of gold buried in the espresso brown seas reflected back at you. His hands clenched involuntarily, and given the fact that they were resting around your hips, you got a delicious lick of pleasure that shot through your pelvis at the sensation.
Tommy didn't seem to be in the mood for dawdling. "And now we're having one this week," he insisted. "My place. Maria and the others are waiting."
You lifted your chin to see him close his eyes in annoyance. His mouth opened once; he closed it. When he opened it again, his eyes flashed along with the movement. "Alright, I'll be there in a minute," he said tersely, and you pretended not to notice the way his gloved thumb rubbed a slow circle on your hip. An apology, perhaps.
When he didn't move, you blushed with smug satisfaction. It had never been more clear that he didn't want to move.
"Joel, it's important." Usually, you'd never had an issue with Tommy. Now, of course, the sound of his voice clawed at your every hope for tonight.
With a soft look at your lips, Joel jerked his head to look at his brother. "I said give me a fuckin' minute," he said, his words clipped. "Fuck's sake," he muttered as he turned around. "Just answerin' a goddamn question," he finished, soft enough that you were sure his brother couldn't hear.
Tommy grumbled his fair share of disapproving words, but you couldn't help the grateful bubble that bloomed in your gut when you heard the shuffle of his boots as he left you alone in the stables with Joel.
He waited a moment or two before letting out a soft sigh. You couldn't have known how disappointed he was, but the way he lifted a hand to your cheek was clue enough. "New lesson, dollface," he said.
A pang of regret hit your stomach and you found yourself shaking your head. "Please?" you asked in a quiet voice. "I don't want a new lesson."
Joel grinned and sucked in a sharp breath. "I know, baby, I know." The familiar phrase threw you back to the night before, when he'd had his hands all over you, reassuring you with those exact words. But now, it wasn't a comfort. "But if I'm not around and you need to feel good..." His hand trailed down your cheek, brushed against your chest and returned to its previous spot between your legs. "I want you to practice touchin' yourself, yeah?"
His voice had become a near-painful whisper, just loud enough for you to feel rather than hear his words caress your skin. "This of me all you want, darlin'. God knows I'll be thinkin' of you at this damn...meeting," he practically spat the last word, but it didn't take away from the pressure that was building and causing you to blink rapidly. "Think about me," he repeated, "but I want you to explore this pretty body for me so you can tell me all about it when I get back."
The sound of his voice enveloped you, that heady sensation nearly making your knees give out. With a slow nod, you couldn't see yourself ever disobeying him. Not when he asked such sinful things of you.
"Okay," you whispered. "I'll try."
His mouth was in a hard line, his irritation at Tommy's interruption still prevalent. But it softened for a moment when he slid a gloved thumb over your bottom lip, letting it get pulled from its place before bouncing back. You darted your tongue out, wetting your lip in a desperate attempt to taste his leather on your skin; to taste him.
"Good," he said softly. Something new pulsed at the sound of his praise, but you fought it down. "I'll see you soon, doll."
Despite everything you tried when you got home—despite squeezing your eyes shut and picturing that dimple in Joel's cheek when he smirked, or the way his arms felt when wrapped around you—nothing helped. The pressure remained, the ache between your legs was ever-present, and yet...
You couldn't give yourself the release you craved. Not like Joel could.
There was no telling how long you tried, hand shoved down your pants in a sour attempt to replicate the feeling he'd given you. Your fingers were clumsy, untrained, and entirely new to the task, leaving you desperate and unsatisfied. A strangled whine left your throat when your mind flashed with the memory of his face near yours, his lips on your own, and his rough hands rubbing that small bud at your center. It was maddening.
He'd asked you to do this one thing, and you couldn't deliver. Of course, you'd never even realized this was a possibility; you'd only ever heard of men bringing themselves to the plummeting precipice of pleasure. You never considered that you could do the same.
But you didn't want to make yourself feel good. You wanted Joel to do it.
After what felt like hours, stuck in your house alone, Joel nowhere to be found, and with your hopes slipping into despair, you gave up. Your fingers would never be as rough or as thick as his. You didn't know how to explore your body when you couldn't tip yourself over the edge to ecstasy; it was impossible.
Weary and defeated, you went to bed with a groan. Joel still hadn't shown up. Either it was a long meeting, or...you didn't want to entertain the thought that he'd possibly forgotten about you. About your task to be completed.
You actually did drop off into a dreamless sleep, but when you woke to the sound of a knock at your door, you were almost positive the dreams had begun again. Swinging your legs out of bed, you trudged to the door with sleep oozing in every movement. The door opened with a click, and you blinked.
"Sorry I'm late, sweetcheeks," Joel breathed. A distant streetlamp, the only one in Jackson, was the sole source of light that illuminated the edges of his broad body on your porch. He looked near-angelic.
You didn't say anything for a moment, only crossed your arms to keep yourself warm in the face of the wintry outdoors. The relief and anticipation at seeing him here paired with the disappointment and fatigue that it had taken so long warred with each other, creating a dangerous mix as you managed to say, "Are you...hungry? Or something?"
He swallowed, and your head swam with the desire to lay your tongue flat on his neck where his Adam's apple bobbed. "Starving," he groaned, and in one step he was not only in your house but he was all over you, and you were wearing nothing but your thin pajamas.
He'd apparently already taken off his gloves, and when his hand came up to cup your cheek your body registered the chill of his fingers with a shock, despite leaning into his touch all the same. He took a moment to look at you before touching his forehead to yours, pressing his lips to yours gently. You could practically taste the restraint on his mouth, and you wanted nothing more than to beg him for everything.
Something about your face must have given it away when he pulled back because he tapped a finger against your cheek. "You look like you need somethin'." He darted a look down to your legs. "Did you do what I asked?"
You weren't sure what made you lie, but you nodded nonetheless. "Uh-huh."
Even in the dark, he was so close to you that you could see his eyebrow lift in question. You didn't know how he knew, but why wouldn't he? This was Joel. "You didn't come," he concluded, and you ducked your head. "Why not, dollface? I thought I told you to."
The implication that his request was, in fact, a command, didn't slip your mind. Your cheeks burned when you forced yourself to look at him. "I couldn't. I don't know how."
"Sure you do," he whispered. "You did real good last night for me, remember?" His lips ghosted your jaw.
You shook your head. "I don't know how. I've never...made myself come."
When Joel looked at you, you could have sworn his lips twitched, betraying the desire in his movements. "I'm sorry, babydoll," he cooed, bringing his other hand to your cheek. He slotted his lips over yours once more, and it was all you could do not to sink to the floor right there. "We'll have to fix that, won't we?"
You nodded. "Show me? Please?"
Without another word he bent to brush his lips across your hairline—you could have sworn you felt him inhale with his nose in your hair—and murmured, "In the morning, yeah?"
You pulled away to complain but he only gave you a soft smile. It was then that you could see the exhaustion in his face, eyes downturned despite those creases winking at you in the darkness. "But—"
"Told Tommy you need a day off," he clarified. "'Cause you're...sore..." he splayed his hand on your back and tugged you near, voice low. "Ya know, from all that horseback ridin'."
An anticipatory chuckle bubbled from your chest. "No way he bought that," you said breathlessly as he nipped your jawline with his teeth (you were almost sure it was supposed to be a kiss). "I've been patrolling on horseback for years."
Joel shrugged and looked down at you with a smirk. "Who knows? Maybe I should have told him you were waiting for me to come home and make you fall apart on my fingers," he said dismissively, but his tone did nothing to stop your stomach from flipping.
"Oh," you said dumbly, cursing yourself inwardly for how easily you were rendered speechless in his presence. "He'll...he'll really let us take the day off?" Your mind swam with the possibilities of what you could do with an entire day.
He shook his head. "Not us, darlin'. Just you." Tracing the line of your jaw, his lips twisted into a dry smirk. "I'll have to go tomorrow. But," he whispered, squeezing a hand on your hip and cocking an eyebrow at the way your legs wobbled," I'd gladly go every morning all by myself if it meant you were in your bed all day, daydreamin' about me."
It was a heavier confession that you'd expected out of him, and you let out a breathy sigh. "In the morning then," you asked. You swallowed roughly in an attempt to push down the lump of pure need that had risen in your chest, but to no avail.
Joel nodded firmly. "Trust me," he hummed, "in the morning."
So you'd led him to your bed with no more discussion. It hadn't occurred to you that he might not stay the night; he'd come to your place after the meeting like he'd said, and it was the middle of the night. Why wouldn't he have stayed the night?
Despite everything in you fighting to stay awake, the second you returned to your mattress and pulled the covers up, your eyelids drooped. Joel stood at the end of the bed and shed his jacket slowly. "Sleep, doll," he said, his voice echoing in the otherwise silent room as he bent to kick off his boots. "I'll be here when you wake up."
Was he getting too close? Was he pushing the boundaries too far, too soon? Probably.
Selfishly, Joel didn't much care.
Sure enough—when morning came, when the dull winter sunlight crept into your house and draped the floor in soft yellow, you felt the dip of your mattress beside you and betrayed Joel's presence. He'd stayed. Like he said.
Quite the dedicated teacher, you thought to yourself with a satisfied warmth. You'd felt him climb into bed last night, but despite your every wish for him to press himself to your back and hold you tightly the whole night, he'd kept at least a foot of space between your bodies. Always close enough to touch, but never giving in.
You rolled over and swiped a hand over your face, a few stray strands falling into your eyes. The breath left your chest when you saw him there, eyes open and waiting for you. "Hi," you said, your voice rough with sleep. Again with the monosyllabic responses, you scolded yourself.
Joel hummed, the deep rumble of his voice reverberating through the mattress and into your body. "Looked so sweet like that, darlin'," he mused, his rough hands tucked under his head. He reached one of them toward you and tapped your bottom lip, plump with sheep, with two of his fingertips. "Didn't wanna wake you up."
"You didn't." You weren't sure what made you do it, but you moved closer, shifting your entire body until your nose almost brushed his. Your eyes flitted up to look at the way his graying hair laid messily around the crown of his head, haircuts neglected for who knew how long. "Can we...I want to start now," you mumbled.
His jaw ticked, and he looked like he was swallowing down a grin. "Look at you," he cooed, "so eager. Aren't you hungry, doll?"
You bit your lip and you could have sworn you saw his eyes widen. "Starving," you fumbled over the word, imitating his response to you the night before on your porch.
Joel let go of a chuckle and his eyes danced with mirth. "Always turnin' my words back on me, aren't ya?" When you nodded sheepishly, he slid his hand around to cup the back of your head and he pulled you in, connecting his lips with yours. "Okay, pretty girl," he said. "We'll start. Since you asked so nicely."
His lips were chapped from the cold weather but they were still soft as he pressed them to yours, moving lazily as the two of you blinked away the last clutches of sleep. "Always so soft, these lips," he murmured, and then his hand was moving from your neck to your chest. "Everyone's different, yeah? There's these spots on everyone's body," he said, absentmindedly drawing swirls along the expanse of your chest, making you shiver. "Let's call them...pleasure points."
"Pleasure points," you repeated breathlessly, your stomach fluttering as he rolled a nipple between his thumb and forefinger. "Is that—"
He grinned with a nod. "Think I just found one of 'em, doll." He rolled you onto your back and bent his head down, his breath fanning over your chest and warming you through your thin pajama shirt. "This is how we get you all ready for me, when the time comes."
You nodded quietly and let out a shaky sigh as his hands wandered. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and you practically preened at the feeling of his lips against your skin while his hands squeezed and caressed your breasts, moving over your stomach. "Joel—"
He paused, hand hovering over the hem of your shirt. "What, babygirl?"
You couldn't help the whine that fought its way out of your throat. "Please," you whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut at the pressure that writhed in your core.
Joel's fingers lifted the hem of your shirt, his mouth widening in a grin at the way that your stomach rose and fell in spattered pants. "Come on, darlin'," he crooned, "open those pretty eyes for me. Gotta see you, doll."
It was all you could do not to take his hand in your own and shove it to your core where you needed him desperately, but you did as he asked.
"That's it, baby," he breathed, good girl."
You'd become familiar with the way your stomach clenched at his use of pet names, but this was new. You had done well for him. You wanted to stay that way. "Will you touch me please? I need—"
"So eager," he murmured, leaning in with his lips to your earlobe. "Lemme take my time with you, dollface." And then his lips were wrapping to the soft part of your ear, his teeth grazing at your skin. Paired with this sensation and the heady feeling of his hand on your waistband, fumbling to push his hand beneath it, you arched your back and released a series of high-pitched whines.
"JoelJoelJoelpleasepleaseplease," you were overcome with the pure, unbridled need that was speeding through your body like a tidal wave on a summer day.
"Alright, darlin', alright," he acquiesced, pushing his hand into your waistband and pulling it down over your hips. You didn't even have the mind to be shy about being laid bare to him this way; you just needed him to touch you.
Before you could beg him again, he had his fingertip on your core, sliding it gently through your slick heat. "Oh, baby," he groaned, rutting his hips against your side. His bulge pressed into your hip and you flexed your fingers to reach for it. "M'never gettin' used to how wet you are for me," his voice shook.
One finger became two, and then his fingertips were rubbing sweet circles to your sensitive bud, drawing near pornographic moans to tumble past your lips. "Can I touch you, please?" you begged, your hand fisting your bedsheets. "Wanna touch you, Joel, please."
He hummed against your ear as he swiped another finger against your bud and lifted your hand to his lips. "Sure thing, doll," he said, and placed it in his hair. Your fingers instinctually carded through the coarse strands, and you blushed when his eyes fluttered closed. "Hold on tight if you need to, pretty girl," he grinned, and lemme know if it's too much."
You were going to ask if what was too much, but then he dipped his finger further down your core, notching it at the small opening. You hadn't even thought this far ahead, that things would eventually lead here. Something pulsed and you whined, tugging his hair in your hand.
"Look at you, so ready for me," he murmured against your neck. His tongue swept out to lick a small stripe along the sensitive skin there and when you let out a stuttering breath he chuckled. "You are ready for me, aren't ya, pretty girl?"
You couldn't nod fast enough. "Please," you choked out, and then he was pressing his finger inside you.
It was a small intrusion, but overwhelming all the same. In all your years, you'd never had the thought that it could feel this good to have him close to you like this. He was only as far as the first knuckle, but with the way that his bulge was nudging your hips, he wanted much more. "Good girl," he breathed, "such a good girl, openin' your legs like this."
"Wanna touch you," you whimpered again, vision blurring with the desperation that coursed through your veins. "Please, Joel, let me touch you."
He kissed you, but you could hardly focus enough to move your lips against his. "Already touchin' me," he said. "You want more?"
"Yes," you nodded feverishly, releasing your hand from his hair. "I wanna..." you looked down at his bulge and licked your lips.
Joel's eyes were wide as he whispered, "For fuck's sake, darlin', when you're cryin' about it..." he swiped a thumb across your cheeks, collecting a teardrop you hadn't even known was there. "How could I say no?"
Thankyouthankyouthankyou were the only words in your mind, a jumbled mess as you reached for him. Your finger traced his length and before you knew it, you were reaching inside his boxers to release it from its constraints. "Holy fuck," you whined, bucking your hips into his hand as you saw just how big he was, long and thick and heavy in your hand. "Need it," you found yourself whispering. "Need you."
It was all you could do before he pushed his finger further, then out, and then in, just enough to throw you closer to that addicting edge of ecstasy. Once again, you found yourself enveloped in the thick pressure of pure desire in his arms.
He pressed the pad of his thumb to your bud and swirled circles in your heat, his lips connecting to your ear once more. "Alright, baby. Alright, baby," he practically chanted in a low tone, nibbling on your lobe just hard enough to pinch the skin. "C'mon now, squeeze my finger like that, that's it," he groaned, drawing out the final two syllables, "good girl."
With his hand in the crux of your legs and his mouth connected to your ear, whispering the filthiest things you'd ever heard in your sheltered life, you threw your head back into the pillow and curled your legs toward him, your hand squeezing his cock tightly as you continued your strokes.
The sounds that erupted from your throat as you burst in a state of pure pleasure were the most pitiful (and yet electrifying) noises you'd ever heard yourself make, and you couldn't help but continue rolling your hips into his hands, chasing the feeling until it became more intense and your legs began to twitch again. "Joel," you mewled, voice breaking, "I need you."
A teasing chuckle sounded, and your cheeks warmed as he removed his hand from your slick. "So much you don't know, dollface," he crooned, tracing his index down the line of your nose. He pushed another, shining with your release, into your mouth. The sweetness nearly made you fall apart again. "Don't know if you're ready for that."
Your body was on fire, nearly throbbing with the insatiable need to be wrapped in his arms, with his hands everywhere, his lips anywhere. Your hand had been moving on his shaft, but his hips stuttered with your next words. "I am," you insisted, "I need you, please. I wanna feel you everywhere."
Joel's pupils went wide and he shuddered out a breath, mumbling a string of curses with his eyes shut. He thrusted his hips into your hand and then your skin was sticky and warm with his own release, some of it landing on your stomach where you lay beside him.
"Shit," he groaned with a rueful smirk. "Maybe I'm not ready for that yet." His breath fanned deliciously over your skin as he continued. "Can't hardly last long enough with the thought of stretching you out like that, baby."
You grinned, and you didn't mind the fact that he could definitely see the flush in your cheeks. "No?"
He shook his head. "Fuck no. I don't wanna think about how quickly I'll come if I were to be inside that pretty pussy yet," he said with a short and gentle tap to your mound. When your hips arched off the mattress and you whined at the sensitivity, he cooed apologetically.
"Isn't that a good thing?" you frowned slightly. "I thought I was making you feel good."
"Makin' me feel too good," he mused, bringing his hand up to hold your face toward him once more. He winked. "Can't have me comin' before you do, sweet girl. Not very gentlemanly of me."
You couldn't help the pang of doubt that clouded your face, and it must have been obvious, because then he was cupping the back of your head and pulling you to his chest. Humming into your neck, he smirked. "Besides, I want to be able to take my sweet time with you. To see you squirmin' beneath me like you do, baby? S'enough to make the pope leave the goddamn church."
tysm for reading, i can't believe you guys convinced me to write MORE filth for these two. u made it to the end, lemme know what you thought!
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kiwi-bitchez · 1 year
Text
Like Magic
Eddie Munson x Reader, 18+ mdni
Summary: Incredibly troupey enemies to lovers smut. The gang takes a trip together and a game of never-have-I-ever creates a new tension between you and Eddie. The classic "no one has ever made me come'' situation. A bit overused, but it still gets me every time. Hope y'all enjoy!
Warnings: afab reader, she/her pronouns, use of y/n, drinking (all characters are 21+), kind of Asshole!Eddie but not really, fingering, kissing, oral (m and f receiving), Eddie has a dick piercing because I said so, piv sex, unprotected sex, plz be safe irl this is just fanfiction, Eddie has big dick energy in this one, I said what I said, rough-ish sex but Eddie's def more of a soft dom here, a few pet names (princess, mostly), spelling/grammar mistakes, corny ending
Word count: 14k (oof… got a little carried away with this one besties)
Steve said it would be a getaway. A trip dedicated equal parts to celebrating Nancy's first big article getting published and to cheer Steve up after having been dumped by his most recent situationship. The former was the initial reason to take the trip but after finding out about Jessica or Jamie or whatever her name was you had a feeling the latter was the true motivator. Either way, Steve had found a cheap cabin up by a lake and had pitched the trip as a fun way to "get in touch with wilderness." You had a feeling it was going to be more drinking and board games than hiking and fishing, but that was fine by you. 
It was nice to put in for the time off from work and have something to look forward to. A week away with your friends. And Eddie. It's not that you didn't consider him a friend... well, you didn't. But it wasn't for lack of trying on your end. You'd use the term friendly acquaintance. A person with whom you share several close friends but for some reason refuses to be friendly to you- that kind of friendly acquaintance. Okay, maybe the word friendly was a bit of a stretch. 
There was an odd tension between the two of you that you couldn't quite figure out. When Robin had introduced you to her friends from high school, all staying very close over the years, you immediately hit it off with them, easily integrating yourself into their quirky dynamic. Even though Eddie sort of stuck out like a sore thumb among them, you never treated him any differently than you did Steve or Nancy. You liked that their group was so mismashed. You had made it a point to not to turn your nose up at him for any reason, expecting he typically got that reaction from those who didn't know him. At first you actually found him to be quite charming. 
There was just a certain coldness he had towards you that you found off putting. Knowing what little you did about him, entirely through Robin's introductory ramblings, you could understand why he might be wary of new people. It was that you had put in an effort to get to know him and be friendly that had upset you when he didn't return the sentiment. Not only did he treat you with a certain dry curtness, but he seemed so warm and loving to everyone else. He'd ruffle Robin's hair, bear hug Steve, share a cigarette with Nancy when she was especially stressed and tell some long winded story that had her cracking up and forgetting why she was ever tense in the first place. You didn't expect immediate closeness, but a little bit of that warmth from him would have been nice. 
The awkward tension between the two of you manifested as joking jabs that hit a little too close, sarcastic remarks and rolled eyes. If he was going to go out of his way to push your buttons, you had no problem doing the same. It never ruined the energy when you'd all hang out as a group, but it was an underlying feeling you could't ever seem to ignore, as much as you'd tried. So this trip was going to be a celebration for Nancy, a distraction for Steve, and a challenge for you. 
The cabin really was a great find to credit Steve. You had all pitched in a little money to cover the expenses and were pleasantly surprised when you found out there were actually enough beds for all of you, a half decent kitchen, hot water, nothing special but certainly nothing to complain about either. You had access to a small dock and a beat up canoe, a little fire pit out back, the basic necessities for a half decent vacation. That, supplemented with the box of booze Steve had lugged up from the car and all of your excitement to let loose was sure to make for a good trip, if not at least a memorable one. 
You had all scoped out the digs, poking around the shed outside and unloading all your stuff from the cars. You felt somewhat settled in and ready to slip into vacation mode right as the sun began to set. Steve and Nancy had taken care of bringing groceries for the week, unpacking a week's worth of dry pasta and snacks into the dusty pantry. Steve took it upon himself to cook a small meal for everyone in the kitchen, nothing fancy but still appreciated given the minimal kitchen setup, always the mom of the group. Eddie messily makes himself a rum and coke, offering Robin one as well and blatantly ignoring your presence. Not that you wanted a stupid rum and coke from him anyways. He hands her the drink and you avoid eye contact and push past him to fix a drink for yourself, quickly shuffling off to check if Steve needed any help in the kitchen. 
"Too many cooks in the kitchen, y/n," Steve places his hands on your shoulders and backs you out of the small space, "go relax, I think I can handle boiling pasta by myself." 
You were mostly trying to avoid the living room where Nancy, Robin, and Eddie were all settled, but Steve was right, the kitchen was far too small for you to be taking up space while he tries to cook for five. With a sigh you make the short journey over to the couch, wedging yourself next to Robin and quietly sipping on your drink, making a mental note to make the next one stronger. You easily fall into conversation, listening to Robin tell some story about when she and Steve used to work at an ice cream shop years ago, some exaggerated memory she kept referring to as "mint-chocolate-chip-gate," easily pulling laughs from all of you. 
Hours later, empty plates scattered around the small makeshift dining area, a few more drinks in your system, you had hardly thought about Eddie at all. You'd managed to avoid his snippy remarks for the majority of the evening, both relishing in the good feeling of the start of a week off. It was always when you felt the tension slip away that it came back harsher than ever. The five of you crowded around the small table, playing cards shuffled into a messy deck. Robin had started a never-have-I-ever game, although childish, still fun and silly as none of you took things too seriously. 
"Never have I ever," she searches her brain for something riveting, "faked an orgasm."
You and Nancy give her a fake-annoyed glance and take sips from your cups, not a huge surprise on anyone's part. 
"Not fair Rob," you say, looking up from your cup, "just because you only have sex with women doesn't mean you have to target those of us unfortunate enough to be attracted to men." You and Nancy laugh.
"Sounds like the unfortunate ones are the guys you're sleeping with," Eddie mumbles. You shoot daggers from your eyes at him, "I'm just saying, how can you expect it to be any good if you're not being honest."
"Fuck off," you roll your eyes, "I'm sure you've been on the receiving end of more than one faked orgasm, Munson, it's kind of a universal truth for all women."
"Well I don't know if I'd say that-" Nancy interjects, "universal truth is kind of a big claim."
"Never have I ever," Steve interrupts, clearly trying to change the conversation, "accidentally poured salt instead of sugar into my coffee while on a first date and was too embarrassed to say anything so I just drank the salty coffee and suffered in silence."
"Oh my god," you burst out, everyone giggling, "that was such a pointed attack! I'm never telling you anything ever again!" You take a sip from your drink, being the only person in the group who has experienced that oddly specific situation. 
"If you all are going to target me with the knowledge of friendship then I'm coming for all of your asses," you set down your drink and try to think of something that will surely get them to all drink, "Aha! I know, never have I ever had an orgasm during sex with a partner." Your mind was sort of still in the gutter from Robin's statement, and you knew for sure you'd get them all with this one, you knew that you were in a slim minority with that fact. It wasn't that you choose bad partners, well, that was sometimes part of it, but you just couldn't get to that place when someone else was doing it to you, only ever by yourself. You just figured it was a slight abnormality, and had resigned to a life of solo play and half decent but never truly fulfilling sexual encounters. 
Steve groans, annoyed you brought the conversation back to the sexual topics he had previously steered the group away from, taking a drink alongside everyone else. 
"Ha!" you gloat while everyone takes their long sips, "knew I'd get you all there. Keep trying to come for me with my oddly specific embarrassing stories and you'll all be sorry in the morning."
"I don't really think having a shit sex life is anything to brag about, y/n," Eddie snips at you. 
"I'm not bragging, it's the whole point of the game to get people to drink, stupid," you shoot back, starting to regret revealing that level of personal information to him. 
"Well maybe if you weren't so busy faking your orgasms you'd actually chill out for long enough to actually have one," he hurls back, the thick tension settling between the two of you.
"Jesus, Eddie, mind your own fucking business," you feel blood rushing to your face and your jaw tenses up. 
"You were the one who brought it up, sweetheart," you hated how calm his voice still was, raising his hands up in fake defense, "never have I ever NOT made my partner come."
"Oh fuck off," your voice was seething, "you can't say that. There's, like, no definitive way to prove that's even true!"
"No, I'm pretty sure I know it's true," he was so fucking smug and it annoyed you to no end.  
"OKAY," Steve breaks the awkward silence that had settled around the rest of the group, "I want to play cards, what do we think? Cards? Anyone?"
'Yeah, whatever,'' you felt bad if you had accidentally ruined the fun everyone was having, but it wasn't your fault Eddie decided to be such a dick about it. You help Steve shuffle the cards and start dealing, letting the heated energy dissipate around you as you wiggled your way back into normal conversation with everyone.
Several rounds of cards and a few drinks later the night took hold of the group and sent Nancy off to bed, Robin off to search for some advil that she knew she'd be grateful for in the morning, and Steve mostly asleep slumped in his chair at the table. You gently shook him awake and he grumbled a thank you and a goodnight as he dragged his body down the hall to his bed. This left you and Eddie with a half decent mess between the drinks, the aftermath of dinner, and the cards. He had started to gather the cards back into their deck while you debated on taking care of the dishes or putting it off until morning, ultimately deciding that tomorrow-you would be very thankful if tonight-you sucked it up and just cleaned up now. 
"I got the rest," you start picking up everyones mostly empty cups and moving into the kitchen to tackle the mountain of dishes. Jeez Steve, how many pots does it take to boil pasta for five people? "Night, see you tomorrow," you say without turning back to look at Eddie. 
He came up next to you and grabbed the dry towel off the counter, taking the soapy cup from your hand and wiping it away before stacking it on a clear part of the countertop. 
"You wash, I'll dry, yeah?" he's already moved onto the next plate you had sponged down.
"It's really fine Eddie, I've got it," you appreciate the sentiment, but didn't like feeling so cramped standing with him in the small kitchen. 
"I have manners, you know," he makes a harsh gesture to the dishes, urging you to get on with washing, which you do, "plus I'm not gonna let you take all the credit for cleaning up after everyone, you aren't anyone's mother or maid here." 
You weren't really sure how to take that, but decided to ignore it as you continued to scrub away, silently handing him the dripping dishes as you finished cleaning them. 
"I know you don't really care for me," you start, feeling the need to fill the awkward silence between you, "but can we please not make Steve and them regret inviting us both? Like, I know you're capable of being civil. I just really don't want to spend this whole trip walking on eggshells worrying that we're ruining the fun. So, this is me apologizing for anything I do this upcoming week that pisses you off for whatever reason, just know I didn't do it on purpose, and it's not worth freaking out over. I'm just trying to have a good time here, that's all."  
You really couldn't tell if you felt relieved or more anxious after saying all that to him. You meant it. You really didn't want to drag any unnecessarily tense baggage around with you while everyone was just trying to enjoy their trip. You wanted him to know this, at least to feel like the blame was off your back if he was a dick to you, at least you tried to clear the air on night one. 
"What? Still got your panties in a bunch over that game?" you didn't have to look over at him to hear the smirk in his voice, "Because I remember you were the one getting all in a huff about it."
"This is exactly what I'm talking about," you turn over sharply to look at him, "please just stop being such an asshole to me."
"Learn to take a joke, sweetheart," he had been drying the same mug for a little too long now, "that stick up your ass is probably the reason you can't reach the big O."
"Please, for the love of god, fuck off," you tried to not raise your voice too much given everyone's sleeping state, "What do you want me to say? Hmmm? 'Oh Eddie, I'm so jealous of all those girls you make come with your magical guitar fingers, oooooooooh, please pick me'." You roll your eyes and prepare to storm off to bed when his whole posture shifts in front of you. 
"Magical guitar fingers? Hmmm?" he's really making you regret saying that, even sarcastically, you start putting the rags away, wanting to just finish up the dishes and get the fuck out of the kitchen. "You said it babe, not me."
"You're so insufferable," you bring your fingers to your temple, Eddie Muson manifesting as a special form of personal headache.
"This is exactly what I'm saying," he mockingly gestures to you, "you're the one always getting so worked up over nothing, I'm as cool as a cucumber, I think the problem might be you."
"Is everything a fucking joke to you? Can you really not be serious for three fucking seconds while I try to be straight with you about us getting along on this trip?" Your grip on the dish towel tightening. 
"Me? Joking? About something so serious and romantic as having precious y/n her first orgasm with my 'magical guitar fingers' that she so obviously fantasizes about? I would never." He clasps his hands across his chest, always the fucking jester. 
In a moment of white hot rage, and wanting to put him in his place, and only a tiny fraction fueled by your physical attraction to him, as much as you've tried to fight that off, you march the three steps in between the two of you and grab his wrist in your hand, holding his hand up in between the two of you.
'Fine, do it then," you maintain harsh eye contact with him, your faces only a few inches apart, "you won't. Better yet, I don't even think you could." 
For the first time, you felt as if you had the upper hand, you had never rendered him speechless before. He always had some snippy comeback to everything you said, at a rapid fire pace that was honestly impressive given how subtly clever his remarks were. 
"You wanna bet?" He cocks his head at you, trailing behind just a beat slower than he normally would. 
You just raise your eyebrows and glance down at his hand, still in your grasp, lips pursed and voice secretly caught in your throat. 
"You just say the word," he starts, voice slightly softening, "and I bet you that I can make you come using just this hand- scratch that, just these three fingers," he lowers his pointer and pinky, leaving his middle two and thumb sticking up, "in less than five minutes right here in this goddamn kitchen."
"Yeah, for what?" were you seriously considering this? Why were your thighs clenching together? 
"I make you come, and not only do I get to live in your memory forever as the first idiot who had the sense to make you finish, but you're gonna be so sweet to me the rest of the trip. Make my drinks, fetch my lighter, roll all my joints with those cute little dexterous fingers of yours, be nothing but pleasant and lovely without the slightest hint of attitude." His words made you fume, but you were also inexplicably turned on, his breath fanning across your face as he spoke sending tingles down your spine. 
"And when you can't, what then?" you tried to match his level of composure, but the gleam in his eye told you that he saw straight through your facade. 
"If-" he starts, "you manage to hold out on me and I can't get that pretty pussy of yours to gush all over my super magical talented guitar fingers, I'll leave you alone for the rest of the trip. We never bring it up again, or you can tease me about it for the rest of our lives, totally up to you. But I'll be so civil and polite you'll hardly recognize me the rest of this trip."
You let your grasp fall from his wrist, holding your unsteady hand out to him to shake, "Deal." 
He truly thought you were bluffing up until this point. When you had first met he had been impressed with how sharp you were, how you managed to meet his level of sarcasm so easily. At least he thought you had been sarcastic, after a few fumbled interactions he got the vibe that you weren't joking around with him in the jabby-playful way he was. If he was honest wit himself, he knew he sort of used this as a defense mechanism when meeting new people. Put up the walls and if they didn't like him, that was just fine.
The tension in the air was as thick as it had ever been between the two of you. You refused to break eye contact, refused to let him win. As much as you'd like to think this would be an easy way to put an end to his snarky attitude, there was no denying that a large part of you was excited, if not intrigued at the prospect of him touching you like that. Eddie was hot, you had never denied that. But the butterflies in your stomach and slight buckle of your knees indicated a little bit more than surface level attraction. 
Breaking the handshake he takes a few purposeful steps forward, backing you against the nearest counter. He places a hand on either side of your body, caging you in, leaning his head down to speak directly into your ear, voice low and raspy. 
"We doing this, babe? You say the word and I'll let it go now, but otherwise I'm gonna need you to unbutton those cute jeans for me."
There was no way in hell you were turning back at this point. You try to give him your best 'fuck you' expression and say, "Can't even unbutton my pants, how the hell are you gonna make me come?" Regardless, you follow his request and unbutton your pants, and better yet, slip them down your legs to let them pool at your feet.
You were still locked in between his arms against the counter, closer than you had ever been to him. As your pants hit the floor, you notice his gaze flicker down to get a look at you, then quickly back up to your face. All the while he had shifted over slightly, arm now fiddling with a dial on the stovetop. He was setting a timer, cocky bastard. He adjusts the stovetop cook timer to five minutes and casually hits the enter button, as if he had nothing to prove, as if the few extra seconds meant nothing to him. 
He brings his attention back to you, knowing you were fully aware of the timer he had just set. Rather than plunging his hand straight into your already dampening underwear, his first move was surprisingly to bend down slightly and cup the backside of your knee, lifting one foot out of the pant leg that was scrunched around your ankles. From the crook of your knee, his hand slowly moved up your thigh, giving it a squeeze, acting as if he wasn't on any sort of time constraint. As promised, once he reaches your underwear he only uses one of the three promised fingers, running the tip of his middle digit along the top elastic of your panties, quirking an eyebrow, looking at you for one last assurance of consent before the two of you crossed the line. You give him a curt nod, knowing what his questioning glance meant, and with that he dips his hand into your simple cotton underwear. 
Once again, you almost expected him to just shove his fingers inside of you and get on with it, but he took several long moments to run his middle two fingers up and down your slit, never entering your hole, but collecting some of your wetness and dragging it up to massage the hood of your clit gently. You wouldn't have been surprised if the oven timer went off at any given moment. It felt like he had been touching you for far longer than five minutes, despite only forty seconds having been passed. He continued to gently roll your clit between his fingers, placing one on either side of your bud and just letting them slowly massage it back and forth. 
You were slowly losing control of your composure. You didn't want to give him the satisfaction of any sort of reaction, but a shallow gasp that you were sure he noticed escaped you. You mentally prepared yourself for a comment from him, a chuckle or signature smirk. Eddie never shut the fuck up, you wouldn't have been surprised if that was true in the bedroom too, or in this case, the kitchen. What did surprise you was the breathy "Good girl, that's it" he mumbled into the side of your face as he increased the pressure of his fingers ever so slightly, "just like that, relax for me, doing so well."
Fuck. 
Your body responded to his words before your mind could make the conscious decision to, and you melted back into the countertop slightly with an exhale. His foot wedged in between your legs slowly slid them open a bit more, letting his ripped denim clad leg settle in between yours, his hand sinking a bit lower and slowly entering you with just his middle finger. The hand that wasn't occupied with your pussy gently came down to toy with the band of your still-on underwear, gently tugging them down as he managed to slip his second finger into you. 
"That's it," he began to curl them ever so slightly, allowing you to adjust to the feeling of him, "your pussy's so pretty, so good, sucking my fingers right in." 
His two middle fingers were sunk all the way into you, and he was moving them in a way that had you involuntarily drop your jaw and let shallow whimpers out with every roll and thrust. This was entirely different than anything you had ever experienced before. Up until now, 'getting fingered' for you was an annoyingly uncomfortably forplay where your partner would shove a hand in and out too fast just to make sure you were wet enough to proceed with the act. Eddie wasn't even bringing his fingers out of you, he settled them in and wiggled them around until he noticed your breath catch, and just let them push into this spot that you didn't know you had. Your own fingers never could reach that deep and his were filling you perfectly, thumb toying with your clit, not too hard, but just enough to add to the sensation. Damn, he was good at this.
When his fingers finally hit that new spot inside you your body reacted with a subtle roll forward of your hips and your head fell back to rest against the cabinets, eyes fluttering shut on their own accord. "Mmm, there it is," his voice was still gentle against your ear as he continued to make you gasp and squirm, "anyone ever find this pretty little spot inside you before?" He let his fingers slide all the way out of you, spreading some wetness from your hole up to your clit with a few circular motions before sinking back down inside you. 
You were biting the inside of your lip, no longer trying to hide your reactions from him, but trying to keep them quiet enough to not wake anyone in the cabin up. You wouldn't dare answer his questions out loud in your state, but you give him a quick shake of your head to indicate that, no, no one had ever touched you quite like this before. 
"Such a fucking shame," he increased the pressure on your clit, not increasing speed at all, but just curling his fingers a little harder, swirling his thumb a bit more deliberately, "bet you'd make such gorgeous noises for me too, can't have anyone wake up and find us like this though, yeah? Those pretty little whimpers are for me only."
Why were his words doing more to you than his hands? Not that you had any complaints about the care and attention he was giving your center, but his face pressed so close to you, letting out sweeter words than you had ever heard from him, that was what was making your walls tighten around his two fingers. Your mind had completely slipped away from the timer, no longer questioning whether you had three seconds or three minutes left, all you could do was feel. 
There was a soft squelching coming from where his hand made contact with your pussy, wetness coating his fingers and spreading to your thighs with each of his shallow thrusts. While you would typically feel a little embarassed, hearing your own arousal only turned you on more, that along with Eddie's soft "mmmm, that's it" and "good fucking girl." 
You were starting to feel it, that familiar tightening. Familiar, but so different from when you got yourself there. It was the difference of jumping into water versus being pushed in. When you jump in yourself, you have time to build up the courage and the cold water is less of a surprise and more of an inevitability. This was as if someone had thrown you over their shoulder and could fling you in at any moment, entirely out of your control. You feel your head start to spin, your walls start to tighten. 
Before you could let the tightening band in your lower half snap, any thought of purposely holding back and trying to not come for the sake of the bet was far gone, he takes his unoccupied hand and harshly tugs on your chin. Your head had started to roll back, pressing against the cabinets for support, eyes fluttering shut as you almost reached your peak. You were jolted back to reality as he cups your jaw and forces your head to stay upright. 
"Eyes open," your impending orgasm teetering right on the edge, you would do anything he said in this moment, "you're going to keep your eyes open and look at me while I make you come." His words with a few more expert swipes of his thumb against your throbbing clit had you gasping for air. It was truly unlike any orgasm you had ever experienced. 
You tried your best to follow his directions, keeping your eyes as open as you could, maintaining eye contact with him through your high as your mouth dropped open and your moans caught in your throat, silently shaking and thriving as the tension in your body eased out in waves of pleasure. His gaze burned into you, fingers keeping such a steady and consistent pace as you rode out your peak. Mumbled phrases escaped him and only made your orgasm last that much longer. Why the fuck was Eddie Munson calling you "pretty girl" making your legs shake? This shouldn't be happening. That had never been a turn on before, none the less coming from a man you typically found insufferable. 
With the last pulse of your walls you found yourself acting on pure adrenaline, you completely blame the endorphins for your next action. His hand was still firmly planted on the side of your head and your thoughts were spinning so fast, you had to ground yourself, and your body decided that lurching forward and kissing Eddie was how you were going to do that. Fingers still slowly rolling inside of you, thumb now coming to rest on your overstimulated clit, he was taken aback by your action, but leaned into the kiss and swiped his wet tongue through your bitten swollen lips as you melted into him. As soon as you felt fully entangled in him, completely consumed by his hands, mouth, scraggly hair, all of him. You jerked back, quickly apologizing, "Fuck, uh, sorry, I-" 
He slowly drags his hand out of your drenched thighs as you try to find words, bringing his two fingers up between his lips to suck them clean. You wanted to moan out at the sight but were still scrambling to figure out what the fuck just happened. He casually leans over and pauses the oven timer with a beep.
"Hey, 4:20, nice!" you roll your eyes at his immature comment, "we have forty more seconds on the clock, wanna go again?" he jokes. 
You were so far beyond caring about this bet, you had way bigger issues to tackle than having to wait hand and foot on Eddie for the rest of this trip. You awkwardly pull up your wet panties and readjust your pants around your legs, not sure what to do or say. 
"Was that good? Better than when you do it yourself?" he asks, sarcasm indetectable in his voice but you were sure it had to be there.
"Do you actually care to know or do you just want to hear me say it? Fine Eddie, you win. You have magical sex fingers and made me come in like three minutes, congratulations. It was great, the best orgasm of my life. You were right, you told me so." 
"Well that's great to hear and all but I wasn't looking for an ego boost or anything, babe," his tone was lighthearted and you weren't expecting it, "I just know it's like wayyyy different for me when its my hand versus another person, not to mention the difference between all the holes and whatnot."
"Gross!" you laugh and scrunch up your nose, not noticing how he was pouring you a glass of water. 
"I'm just saying!" He holds his hands up defensively as he silently hands the cup to you, "I've never experienced a female orgasm so I just wanted to know if it was any different than when you use the showerhead."
"Oh my god I-" you start, in between gulps of water.
"Oh, don't even start," he cuts you off, "we both know that all girls do that, don't try and be all shy with me now babe, I know what your 'oh' face looks like."
You feel a heat rise to your cheeks and you bury your gaze down into your almost empty glass of water. "Yeah Eddie, it was different and it was better. Your fingers rank higher than the jet setting of my shower head, do you want a trophy?" This sort of banter usually had a sharper edge to it between you, but there was a new softness and humor to the way you communicated. Maybe he was just being nice because he felt bad for you, because you were so desperate that you came from three fingers on a kitchen counter in less time than most top forty radio hits. 
"I'm glad it was good for you," he says, almost sincerely, "night sweetheart." With that he turned around and exited the kitchen, keeping his composure all the way down the hall until he could burst into his room, rid himself of his clothes, and pull his cock at the thought of how you felt wrapped around his fingers, the little whimpers and noises you made, how you looked right at him as you came, how you kissed him afterwards. 
You were left somewhat dumbfounded, standing in the middle of the kitchen with an empty cup in your hands, looking around as if something else was going to happen. You weren’t expecting him to invite you back to his bed for a cuddle or anything like that, but you had just experienced the most earth shattering orgasm of your life followed up by some joking conversation and a friendly cup of water? It just didn't feel right. Then again, who the fuck has their first orgasm from someone else while being timed. 
You didn't regret it though. You actually felt a sense of relief. While you were pretty aware that your past sexual partners had been a bit selfish or underwhelming, a part of you had always wondered if that part of you was broken. If there was a part of your brain that would never let you reach that vulnerable state at the hands of someone else. That you would only ever trust yourself to let go and feel that kind of pleasure. Nope. Not broken. Definitely not broken. 
You feel like you're in a trance as you walk back to your room, shower, slip into pajamas and drift off to sleep. You started to wonder how the energy would be between you and Eddie in the morning, but as soon as you gave it any thought your brain decided it was time to shut down. You'd deal with it when it happened. 
Your head still felt cloudy the next morning, processing the sexual high and confusing social situation you now found yourself in. You knew one thing for sure, you'd never be able to look at Eddie again without thinking about last night. Suddenly the thought of him playing guitar, shuffling a deck of cards, smoking a joint, all felt inherently sexual to you despite never having that connotation before. You were fucked. 
What's even worse is when you tried to rub one out in the shower to ease some of your nerves before going downstairs for coffee all you could think of was comparing how your hand felt to Eddie's. It's like he put a stupid curse on you, that all your orgasms would now feel half hearted. It's like you were hungry and were served a peanut butter and jelly sandwich when you could smell a chef preparing a five star meal in the room over. Sure, a PB&J is fine, but now that you've had fine dining it just didn't quite cut it. On top of that your newly corrupted brain couldn't help but theorize about what else Eddie was capable of. He made you come in basically four minutes with three fingers. As soon as you let your mind wander you pull yourself out of it, make the shower as cold as your body can stand, and gear up to face the music, or at least put on an awkward front in front of all of your friends. 
You were the first person in the kitchen, but you heard a fair amount of shuffling going on around the creaky cabin so you suspect your friends will be down soon. You take it upon yourself to put on a full pot of coffee and survey the pantry for breakfast options. 
"Morning, y/n," Steve greets you passively, eyes clearly set on the coffee that's almost done brewing. 
"Oh wow, did you do the dishes last night?" Nancy inquires, her and Robin taking their places at the table while everyone waits for the coffee to finish. 
"Oh yeah, it was nothing. Eddie and I did it, only took like five minutes," you wince at yourself.
"Were the two of you up real late?" Steve questions, "I tried to get him up a minute ago but he was knocked out." 
"Oh," you start, relying on pouring coffee to everyone as an excuse to not make any eye contact, "I'm not really sure, we were only really up for like ten, twenty minutes after you all went to bed. Maybe he stayed up late in his room." None of it was a lie. 
"Whatever, let him sleep this beautiful day away," Steve's whole demeanor changed after a single sip of caffeine, "I say we go down to the dock and check out that canoe, maybe have lunch on the dock? Could be nice." 
A murmur of agreement among the group settled the plans for the day, relaxing by the lake, doing exactly what you had intended this trip to be about. You all scarfed down quick breakfast and coffee and separated to change into swimwear. You hated that you thought of Eddie as you picked out your swimsuit. Did he even see you like that? When he called you pretty last night, was that all part of an act to win some stupid bet? You'd be better off assuming so, you decide, you don't want to get wrapped up in your own thoughts about how he thinks of you only to be totally wrong. But you secretly did hope that he'd check you out at least once.
You sprawled out on a big towel on the rickety dock, letting Robin, Nance, and Steve figure out the canoe. It didn't look like it could comfortably for more than two, and three was pushing it, so you decided to sit this one out considering the lake water looked a little murky. You set yourself up comfortably with a glass of lemonade and a book you were halfway through, letting the sun sink into your skin and illuminate the pages as you squinted at the words through the sunshine. You could hear their friendly bickering off in the distance, their canoe now a tiny speck off on the horizon of the lake. You could occasionally hear Robin shriek as Steve threatened to tip them all over. 
You felt the dock creek behind you before he said anything, not bothering to turn around from your comfortable position, knowing it couldn't be anyone but Eddie. He made his way down to your towel, inviting himself to plop down next to you and dip his toes into the lake below. He was only in his boxers and a ratty tshirt, a mostly full cup of black coffee sloshing around in the mug he held.
He made you nervous, not sure what the energy would be like between the two of you now. You almost felt worried that nothing would have changed at all. You ignored the buzzing in your abdomen and kept your eyes on your book as he kicked up the lakewater and sipped his coffee next to you, seeming comfortable in your mutual silence. 
“Reading anything good?” you knew he’d be the one to break the silence, ever the chatty Cathy. You were surprised at the genuine question rather than a smart remark or joke at your expense. 
You told him what you thought of your current read, filling him in a bit on the general plot. Part of you decided that you no longer had the right to give him the edge you usually did. He had won the upper hand fair and square and you were willing to accept that. You could play nice, play by his rules. 
You felt like your conversation was going well, or well enough. He asked to see your book, which you willfully handed over. You’d regret doing that. He dog-eared the page you were on and quickly set your book off to the back of the deck before moving at lightning speed and scooping you up and hurling you through the air and into the lake water. What the actual fuck was his problem. 
Before you could even register the cold lake water you emerge from your splash and gasp for air. You don’t even have a moment to find where the dock is to cuss him out before you see his cannonballed form fly above you and crash into the lake next to you. His shirt and coffee were abandoned with your book and he emerged from the water with that stupid goofy smile. 
That stupid goofy smile that made you less mad that he had thrown you in the lake. What was wrong with you? You should be pissed. Why did his annoying antics suddenly make you feel giggly? You knew exactly why, but wouldn't allow yourself to think about it for longer than a moment. 
“Eddie you bitch!” you splash him as soon as you can locate him and that stupid smile. You couldn’t help but smile too. He knew you wouldn’t stay mad. The two of you play-wrestle for a moment, splashing each other and taking turns pushing the other under the lake’s surface.
“I was reading,” you continue to protest. 
“And now you’re swimming!” He splashes you again, “We’re on a lake trip, y/n, not a library trip.”
You debated swimming out to where the canoe was, but mutually decided that sounded like too much work. Instead you took turns jumping off the dock and diving down to the bottom of the lake for rocks and other random junk. Eddie even found an old boat anchor. 
Once the other three came in from their canoe adventure you all ate packed sandwiches for lunch in the sunshine on the dock. You couldn’t help but take in the moment, knowing you'd be nostalgic for it in the future. You were surrounded by some of your best friends without a care in the world, only focused on pb&j sandwiches and who was going to make the fire later. 
After a backyard bonfire and several failed attempts at roasting hot dogs on sticks you all started to slow down and let the day in the sun take you to bed. You showered the feeling of lakewater off your skin and out of your hair with lots of soap and as hot of water as the cabin would allow. You thought you’d cozy up in bed and read some more of your book, or even crash right to sleep, but a nagging feeling kept pulling at you. 
As sleepy as you wanted to be, and as interesting as your book was, your mind couldn’t pull itself away from the idea of what Eddie was doing down the hall. It was late enough that the others were probably asleep, you probably should be too. After rereading the same sentence four times you decided to abandon your book and just follow your curiosities. 
Before your better judgment could stop you, you lightly knocked at Eddie’s door and cracked it open. You peek around the sturdy wooden door to see him propped up on the headboard, shirtless with a giant book in his lap. His lean chest and arms were littered with random tattoos, nothing you hadn't seen before swimming or when he wore those unbuttoned and ripped up shirts that he often did, but this time you couldn't help but stare at them. 
“Sure just come right in,” he comments with a joking tone as you peek around the corner of his door. 
“Sorry, sorry,” you half whisper through gritted teeth, “I just-” 
You didn’t know how to finish that statement. You just what? Were curious about what he was doing? Wanted to see him? Wanted to know what he would say if you came to his room?
To your surprise he shifts to the side of his bed and opens a space next to him, lifting the sheet that covers his lower half and patting the space next to him. Your eyes widened in surprise a bit before you moved a bit too enthusiastically across the room and settled onto the mattress next to him. 
“Hope I’m not bothering you,” you start, genuinely feeling bad if you were intruding. 
“You? Not at all. I’ve only read The Lord of the Rings eighty times or so,” he turns over the enormous book in his lap. 
“Wow, I didn’t know you could read,” you immediately felt bad, but knew your tone was joking enough to be permissible. 
“Very funny,” he sets the book on his nightside table, turning his attention to you. You suddenly felt a spotlight on you, a sudden stage to explain the reason you showed up in his room. Truthfully you didn’t have one. Or, you didn’t have the words to tell him why. 
“I-” you start, noticing how small your voice sounded, “I wanted to say I’m sorry.”
“Is that so?” He looked genuinely surprised. 
“Yeah, I just-” you still don’t know where you’re going with this, “I just wanted to apologize if I ever gave you the impression that I didn’t like you. I know we kind of go back and forth a lot, but I never really meant to make you feel like I dislike being around you. I just want to start over with you, if that’s okay?”
“Is this because you know all the rumors about my magic guitar fingers are true,” he smirked and leaned his head into yours, an action that would typically make your blood boil that you now found endearing. 
“No- well yes- but no,” you couldn’t help but be flustered, finding yourself fidgeting with the hem of his sheet that you had tucked your feet under, knees pushed up against your chest, “I just thought that things were going to be really awkward between us today, or that you were going to be a huge asshole to me. But I just realized that maybe I hadn’t been fair to you, and maybe you weren’t fair to me either, so it would be nice to start over?”
“Do you want to start over right now, or do you want to start over, including last night?” He already knew that even if the two of you ‘started over’ neither of you could forget, or even pretend to forget what had transpired in the kitchen. You let out a sigh. You were thinking the same thing.
“Up to yout,” you look up at him through your lashes, “I’ll leave and never bring it up again, but I can't pretend like I haven’t been thinking about it since it happened.”
“Is that so?” He cocks an eyebrow.
“Shut up, you know it is,” you bump his shoulder with yours. 
“Is it because you touched yourself and realized it didn’t feel the same?” his voice grew deeper, and you could feel his gaze pressing into the side of your face, “or because you imagined it was my fingers between those pretty legs of yours.”
You couldn’t help your head from falling back against his headboard and eyes to find solace in the ceiling before gathering the courage to answer him. His face was already inches from your neck, all you needed to do was close the gap, but a part of you was still worried. 
You look tentatively into his eyes, big and brown and drawing you in, but you don't let yourself lean in all the way. You had initiated the first kiss between you two last night in the kitchen and had been shaken with worry that you had crossed a line. You didn't want to embarrass yourself again, so you held back. What if he thought that was too intimate? You hoped he didn't. Even though it had left you tense and anxious, kissing him was just as memorable as the orgasm he had given you. You remembered how his mouth tasted, how he slipped his tongue past your lips immediately, how you didn't have to think about anything other than how he was making you feel. 
Eddie, on the other hand, knew exactly what you were thinking. He knew that he'd left you a bit high and dry last night. If he was being honest, he wanted to stay in that kitchen and kiss you over and over, offering to take you to bed, his bed. He left for two reasons: he wanted to maintain whatever aura of mystery and intrigue he had garnered by making you feel so good, the tensions were high and it felt right to keep the game up, Eddie enjoyed the cat and mouse, back and forth that the two of you had, and this had taken it to an incredibly fun and elevated state, and he had to leave to release his cock from the confines of his pants. If he was going to fuck you, he was going to fuck you right, and if you had stayed in that kitchen any longer he would have either busted in his pants or promptly three seconds after you made any sort of move on him.
He knew you were nervous. That you found him hard to read and unpredictable. That's probably why the two of you never really got along, and he knew it. He knew that the orgasm he gave you was the most pleasure you had ever felt, and that you hadn't stopped thinking about it for a moment since. It was written all over your face. He couldn't blame you. If he had never had the pleasure of climaxing during sex or at the hands of another person he surely would be in a spell over it too. He knew you needed to be taken care of, and that he had proved himself to be trustworthy of doing so. 
While you were caught in your own head debating whether Eddie would kiss you or not, it only takes him a split second to crane his neck around to meet your face and catch your lips in a kiss backed by purpose and intent. He knew how to read your body language. Eddie grew up worrying what everyone around him was thinking of him, or what they were planning to do to him/ He knew how to tell when someone was angry or upset or disgusted. An arch of an eyebrow or a twitch of a hand could mean the smallest things, things that always came back to bite Eddie. He also could tell that your breath was caught in your throat and you were overthinking still, he knew to let the kiss linger for a moment and let you find your footing before deepening it.
The moment he feels your shoulders relax a bit and your head lean ever so slightly into his, he cups the sides of your neck with his hands. Those hands. Littered with tiny stick and poke tattoos and those clunky metal rings. Who the fuck wears jewelry to bed? You had taken note of how his rings had felt shoved down the front of your underwear the night prior, and now you relished in how the distinct metal felt against the soft skin under your jaw. 
Last night you kissed him in the heat of the moment. Now he was kissing you. Really kissing you. Tugging on your bottom lip and running his tongue across yours until your stomach felt like you were on the dip of a roller coaster. Kissing you until you were breathless and your cheeks began to run hot, until you couldn't tell whose tongue was whose, or could hardly remember where you were or what time it was. You would have traded every sexual experience you'd had for what he did to you in the kitchen last night, and you'd trade every kiss up until now for the one you found yourself in. 
His hands were in your hair, and his lips moved from yours, now wet and pouty, down to your neck. He kissed, licked, nipped, sucked against your skin, gently tugging your hair in the direction he wanted to open your neck up for him. When his bottom teeth dragged across a particular spot in between your jaw and ear a soft moan escaped your lips. You immediately sucked in a sharp breath.
"MmmHmmm," he mumbles into you, still attacking that spot that had elicited the noise, "let me hear you."
You let out a groan and moved to straighten your neck, wanting his mouth on yours again. The hand in your hair kapt you exactly where he wanted though, now using a touch more force. 
"You wanna know a secret?" the hand not in your hair ran up and down your rib cage underneath your shirt, trailing from the band of your pants up to the underside of your breast and then gently back down, "Do you know what you do to me?"
"Mmmm, no what?" you could hardly recognize your own voice, now pitched up and airy. 
"Those pretty noises you made for me, and the thought of you wrapped around my fingers has been driving me crazy all day, y/n. Do you know what I thought about while I jerked off last night? Those moans, and that pretty cunt you have, and the gorgeous face you made when I got you there. It's all I can see when I look at you now. It made me come so fucking hard last night and it's gonna take a lot of time and illegal substances to make me forget it." 
You wiggled your hips up into his touch, wanting him to move faster but knowing he was going to take everything at his pace whether you liked it or not. "Fuck Eddie," he sucked on your earlobe and continued to bite against your soft skin, "you think I'm pretty?" You sounded fucking pathetic, you wouldn't have caught yourself dead asking any boy that, let alone Eddie before tonight. 
"Pretty? I think those little moans you make are pretty. And that cunt you have, prettiest I've ever seen. That little bikini you had on today, that was pretty too. You wear that for me?"
"Maybe," you gasp out as his hand dared to venture lower, still over your pajama pants but dipping up and down where he knew your wet slit was. 
"Sure, lots of things about you are plenty pretty, but fuck," he loved how responsive you were, already rolling your hips against his hand despite the layers of fabric preventing you from getting what you really wanted, "You? you really are somethin' else." 
He could tell you were tired of his teasing, so in between kisses he tugs your shirt up and lets you pull it over your head. He presses your warm skin against his, using all his strength to stay in the moment and feel how nice your tits feel squished up against him, rather than immediately ravish you. He'll get to that, he knows you deserve his patience. 
“Just-” you gathered your thoughts, “tell me you want me too, that this isn’t some sort of power trip or pity fuck. I don’t want it if this is some game to you.”
His heart sank a bit at your inquiry, worried that you thought of last night as some sort of power trip for him, although that was what the two of you had framed it as, a power play. He knew there was something deeper and hoped you had felt that too.
“Of course I want you. As much as it was nice to put you in your place, you brat, I didn't make you come to prove anything. I made you come because I wanted to.” 
“Will you do it again?” your voice was barely a wiper, your neck craning around to meet his intense gaze. 
“Again with my fingers,” he shifted so you were now slumped beneath him, his leg slotting comfortably between yours and his hands coming to cup your cheeks, shoulders angled above yours and hair creating a perfect curtain around your faces, “and my tongue, and my cock,” he leaned down to kiss you, “and all the other ways you’ll let me show you.”
You were a mess. A puddle of arousal and swarming thoughts of nothing but Eddie. Your hands flew up to tangle themselves in his beautiful curls, massaging the nape of his strong neck. The most passionate and enthusiastic kiss you had ever participated in. You were on fire for him. Any former doubt or worry that the actions of last night had on you dissipated into the air along with the breathy moans you couldn’t help but let out in between kisses and touches. 
His knee pushed your thighs apart and you willingly splayed yourself out like a ragdoll for him to move and manipulate under him however he pleased. Before you could focus on his hands dipping into your underwear, he bit at your lower lip and pulled back, causing you to crane your neck and chase after his lips as he moved away. You were about to pout about the loss of contact, but his fingers dipping through your wet folds were plenty distracting. He sits back a bit to focus on pulling down your pants and underwear while still stroking you with his opposite hand.
You were too busy squirming under him, both from his slow methodical fingers against your cunt and a half hearted attempt to kick off your garments that were now pushed around your knees to notice his unwavering gaze that raked over your newly exposed body. His resolve was about to break, along with the dam that held back his desire and excitement to feel every inch of you, to make you feel good, to be the first person to make you feel good. He had always thought you were gorgeous, but picking fights is a lot easier than trying to flirt so he settled for riling you up the only way he thought he could. 
He swats backwards to assist you in removing your final articles of clothing which are caught on your ankles, and as he leans back forward into you he sinks two thick fingers into you with a smirk on his face. It was a sudden stretch, but you'd be lying if you said you weren’t wet enough for him to slip in without any resistance. Your eyes want to squeeze shut, but you can't help but keep your sight locked on the shit eating grin that spreads across Eddie's face. He knew exactly what he was doing to you. He had made you fall apart in just over four minutes last night, and now he was going to take his time and have his fun with you. How could he not? You were so responsive to him, whimpering and writhing with every small movement, muscles tensing and your perfect lips parting open every time he curled his fingers upwards or brushed your clit with his palm. 
He swoops down to give your tits some attention, and you let yourself tangle your fingers into his unruly curls. Between licks and nips he mumbles into your skin, "so fuckin' perfect" and  "doing so good for me." He can feel your walls squeezing his fingers, soaking his palm, so he slows his roll a bit, wanting to draw you out a bit longer. You wanted to pull him up for a kiss, but he was deeply concentrating on sucking the perfect purple hickey to the underside of your breast. You could have sworn you heard "mine" come out of his mouth in between sucks and heavy breathing, but you couldn't be sure. 
Once he released your skin with a wet pop, you tugged at his hair to beg for a kiss. Eddie liked you all whiney and desperate for him though, so he just lets you tug on his hair as hard a you want as he continues moving down your body, teeth dragging across your ribcage, his hot flat tongue licking a stripe across your hip bone just before blowing a stream of cool air across the new wet trail. All the while his fingers slowly rolled inside of you, making this delicious wiggling motion that had you feeling full and seeing stars. 
He pulls his fingers out of you, taking a mental picture of how hot it was that your slick had soaked him down to his rings. Before you can sit up with any sort of protest, he cups his hands on the backs of your thighs and pushes forward to effectively fold you in half. Your head perks up, about to inform him that he is wildly overestimating your flexibility, he cuts you off. 
"Just lay back," his hands run up and down from your inner knees down to your ass and back up, "lay back and let me make you feel good, you can do that for me, yeah?"
"Yeah okay," you breathe out as he places a tender kiss to the part of your thigh just under your bent knee, a part of you that had never had any sexual connotation before, and now the feeling of his lips were permanently seared into the skin there. 
The last thing you caught sight of before your eyes rolled into the back of your head was Eddie spitting straight onto your pussy, not that it wasn't wet enough already, and immediately going in to lick a fat stripe up the middle of your center. You felt your breath hitch in your throat as he repeated the action, his grip on the meat of your thighs tightening and leaving fingerprint sized indents. He attached his lips to your clit and rolled it against his tongue in a way that you had never experienced. 
Sure, you'd been on the receiving end of head before, but not like this. It had always been a 'hey, I just need to make sure your pussy is wet enough for my dick' sort of situation and never a 'it would be my pleasure to die here in between your thighs' situation. The moans that escaped you were shaky and broken, unlike the noises coming from between your legs, a sinful combination of wet slurping and Eddie deeply moaning and humming approval into you as he ate you out. 
Your legs began to shake, partially from your growing orgasm, and partly from this advanced yoga position Eddie had you in. He slid a hand down from the juncture of your leg to toy with the pooling wetness at your hole. You let your wobbly hand replace his holding your knee back for him, keeping you spread open and on display as he stuffed two fingers into you, continuing to suck on your clit. 
"Ohmyfuckinggod," your words slurred together in a high pitched moan, "Eddie- Eddie, fuck." You were no longer in control of the noises coming out of your mouth, a barely coherent slew of Eddie's name, 'fuck's' and 'please.'
He groaned into your cunt, picking up the pace and curling his fingers into you just like he had the night before, this time with the added pleasure of his mouth devouring you. You were not long for this world. 
'You're gonna make me come," you warned him, your voice sounding on the verge of a sob, "feels so fucking good, Eddie, please."
Your eyes screwed shut and legs fell from their pushed back position to clamp around his head as your orgasm took over you. Crashing waves of pleasure that were pulling you out like a riptide. All you can feel is the release, hardly noticing your shaking legs or broken moans. Eddie moves up to catch your lips in a deep, wet kiss, slowing his hand as you ride out the end of your orgasm, still quivering around him. 
You were severely out of breath, but refused to break the kiss. His slick, swollen lips swallowed your moans and anchored you, bringing you back down to earth. 
"Mmmmm," he hums into the kiss, "you need to quiet down, unless you're tryina get me in trouble," he whispers into your lips, dipping down for another soft kiss as you regain your composure. 
"Fuck, sorry," you pant out. 
"Don't apologize to me," he slowly pulls his hand from your center and you wince slightly, "if it were just the two of us in this cabin I'd insist you let those pretty moans out to your heart's content."
"I'll be quiet," you reach down to palm him through his low hanging pajama pants, "will you please fuck me? Need to feel your cock in me so badly Eddie, I know you're gonna make me feel so good again."
A feral groan rumbles in his chest, head tilting back towards the ceiling as you stroke what felt to be an incredibly well endowed cock. 
"You sure you're up for it?" Now it was his turn to show the hint of neediness in his voice.
"Are you sure?" You question back, getting a better grip through the material of his pants.
"You know I wanna fuck you," he ruts into your hand ever so slightly, "but I need to hear you say it."
"I already did Eddie," you mumble into his neck, "Want your cock so bad, I want to make you feel good too."
He rolls over onto his back, and slips off his pants and boxers. You shift onto your knees next to him, unsure of what position he'd want you in. As his hard cock springs out of his elastic waistband and onto his stomach you lose control over your facial muscles and let your slack jaw hang open, eyes bulging slightly. 
"Wh-" a look of concern on his face grows as he notices your expression, looking from you, down to his cock, then back to you, "Oh! The piercing?"
You were completely frozen, because the only thing more shocking than the two little metal balls sticking out of his cockhead was the fact that Eddie Munson had a pornstar dick. Thick, long, girthy, perfectly curved, the most glorious shade of blushed pink. No wonder he had decided to bedazzle it, it was gorgeous. Not only was it the largest and most aesthetically pleasing dick you'd ever seen, in real life or photos, you sure as hell had never had one that big inside you. 
"Yeah, the piercing-" your voice trailed off, still gawking at it. 
"Shit, I'm sorry if you're like, super freaked out," the worry in his voice snapped you out of your trance, "I guess I maybe should have warned you-"
"No no," you were quick to correct his concern, reaching down to wrap your hand, which hardly fit, around it and give a few experimental strokes, "it's fucking perfect." You were visibly salivating, wanting to feel how the metal balls felt against your hot tongue. 
"I mean, it's okay I guess," you say, sitting up, "I wouldn't want to give you an ego or anything," joking sarcasm rolled off your tongue, "but fuck..." the way he twitched in your hand drew you back in, not thinking twice before leaning forward and letting your tongue run from the underside of his shaft up across the metal balls that decorated the head, all the way up to his leaking slit. Your tongue gathered his precum and went back to explore how the piercing felt against your lips, rolling it across your tongue, placing open mouthed kisses to the head. 
"Shit-" he hisses out, Eddie knew his dick was fine, maybe a little bigger than average or something, but no one had ever stopped to admire it, compliment it. Then again, most of Eddie's sexual escapades were just that, escapades. Random girls in bar bathrooms, quickies in the back of his van, a few weed customers who he didn't mind exchanging a good quick fuck for a discount. Sure, he'd heard the 'oh you're so big' line mid thrust, but everyone said that about the person they're fucking, right? 
After feeling his hips twitch a bit underneath you, you release his cock with a soft pop and climb on top of his torso. Grinding down on his hard length with a few slow forward rolls of your hips, you can't help but lurch forward and capture his lips in a kiss. You let out a deep moan as you feel the head of his cock catch your clit as you drag your wet folds up and down his shaft. Your foreheads stay pressed together as your mouth opens in a silent gasp, his hands coming down to guide your hips and dig his fingertips into your ass. 
"Fuck, princess," his voice was low and sexy, and the new nickname had you bucking your hips a little harder, "lay back and let me make you feel good again. This is all about me giving it to you right, yeah? So let me do all the work." 
You know his intentions were sweet, but you kept his hips pinned under yours. "Eddie I-" you pull back a bit to meet his eyes, "you can fuck me however you want in a bit, but... I've never had anything that big inside me before and..."
"Shhhh," his hands ran up and down your sides, "we can take it slow, promise. You can sit on my cock and take it at your own pace, let it fill you up right, don't wanna hurt you." 
With that you nudged his tip into your entrance ever so slightly, taking a moment to feel how his piercing dragged across your cunt and left a cool metal trail that sent a shiver down your spine. Once you slipped the head inside you, it really wasn't any different from an unpierced dick, other than the sheer girth of it. Your teeth caught your lower lip, sinking down to take the first two inches or so, letting your opening adjust to its size. 
It was taking everything in Eddie's willpower not to thrust up into you, or grab your hips and roll them down onto his aching cock. But he knew better than that, and the last thing he wanted was to hurt you in any way. So he stayed still, holding in a deep and shaky breath as you started to take him. Part of him wanted to look away from the gorgeous faces you were making, because if you were going to bat your eyelashes and tuck that perfect lip in between your teeth he was going to come a lot sooner than either of you would like. But he can't bring himself to do it, loving the way your eyebrows furrowed slightly, almost like when you were angry. 
You were fully seated on his cock now, breathing slowly and leaning back to sit up straight on it, somehow pushing it even deeper into you. 
"That's it," Eddie's hands still gripped at your hips, making sure you were steady on him, "that's my girl, taking me so well." 
You experimentally shifted your weight front to back, rocking your hips shallowly against his. You felt Eddie move underneath you, reaching his hand from its place on your hip to your back. He adjusted his position, and pushed up against the headboard to sit upright, now holding your torso against his. He smoothed your hair across the back of your head. 
"It's okay if you need a minute," he took your chin in his hands, clenching his jaw as you continued to rock your hips into his, "don't want you to hurt yourself. 
"Just feel so fucking full," you whispered into his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck for leverage, "need you to fuck me, fuck me deep and hard, please Eddie, need it."
He arches his hips up slightly to meet your hips as they come down, and your eyes practically spin into the back of your head. He takes it slow, his first few thrusts from under you are careful and gentile. You continue to mumble "please" and "more" into his lips, so he scoops you up from your back and flips you over, not removing his cock from deep within you as you settle down into the mattress. Your legs wrap around his hips and he pushes his dick all the way into you, reaching a new spot that knocks the wind out of you. 
"Fuck just like that," your words are hardly there, "so fucking good, Eddie, Eddie..."
"Beautiful," he fucks into you a little harder, "your pussy was fucking made for me." His hands were settled on the backs of your thighs, keeping you spread nice and open for him to pound his cock into you. He lets one hand press into your lower stomach, pushing his cock down while inside you, causing you to let out a gasp. He lets his palm spread your on your lower abdomen, letting his thumb creep closer and closer to your clit, catching it every so often as your hips rolled back and forth with his thrusts. 
"You gonna be good and let me make you come again?" he asks, the cocky edge in his voice has you losing all coherence, "so pretty wrapped around my cock."
The movements of his thumb are much more deliberate now, rubbing your clit in tandem with the movement of his hips. He wasn't fucking you particularly fast, but he was making sure his cock was buried all the way inside you with every thrust, rolling his hips forward and punctuating each thrust with extra pressure. 
"Oh my god, I-" your head was thrown back into the flannel pillowcases, body starting to tense up again. You were still so wet and turned on from your last orgasm, but coming while his massive cock was in you was going to be entirely different, you could feel it. 
"That's it, come on my cock," he could feel the muscles in your thighs start to tighten, the walls of your pussy fluttering around him as he drew methodical figure eights on your clit. You felt so fucking good around him, so warm and wet and tight, swallowing his cock up with every thrust. That plus those damn sounds you were making. But Eddie had a goal, and couldn't be distracted by the overwhelming pleasure coursing through his body, his one and only focus was to push you over the edge, to take care of you and do it right. 
The choked sobs leaving your heaving chest were the first indicator that you were about come, that and your pussy gripping him like a fucking vice. You weren't able to form words as you fell apart for him, just letting broken moans escape you as your body shook and released all that tension. Part of you could hear a string of praises coming from him, but all you could focus on was the ripple of your orgasm tearing through your body. 
You start to come down for it, catching your breath, until you feel him pull out of you entirely and push you legs back as he had before, and dip his head down to lick down your quivering center. He lapped up your wetness and sent a few aftershocks buzzing into your core. His tongue slowed down and he let you settle down, before pushing his tongue entirely into you and letting out the most sensual groan right into your cunt. 
"Holy shit," you let out, looking down at him and realized that next to seeing his dick for the first time, Eddie lapping up your orgasm was the hottest thing you'd ever seen. 
He sat up and let his cock rest in between your puffy pussy lips, his pierced head sitting right on your sensitive clit. He lets the weight of it fall into his hand and gives your pussy a few taps with his cock, sending your hips jerking from the sensitivity. 
"Eddie," you start, eyes glassy and voice hoarse, "please keep fucking me, don't want you to stop."
"You want more?" a comment half cocky and half serious. 
"Mhmm, want you to fuck me hard," your hands came up to play with your tits, "want you to come in me, use me, give it to me hard how I know you like it."
"'S'that right," he quickly grabs your hips and flips you over, angling your ass up in the air for him, "you wanna take all my come like the good girl you are?"
"Please," your muffled voice comes up from the sheets, "I'm on the pill, it's okay, it's safe."
"Mmm fuck," he slips his cock back into your soaking wet hole, guiding your hips back and forth with his big hands, "thank you, so fucking perfect for me, you can tell me if I go to hard, yeah?" 
"Yeah Eddie," you try your best to bounce back on his cock, but know he's doing most of the work moving your ass to slap against his hips, "I want it hard."
With that he takes the initiative to snap his hips forward with every thrust, pulling your gorgeous ass back against him and twitching inside you every time it comes flush with his lower stomach. He can't help but bring a flat palm down to smack it, loving the big red handprint he leaves behind, and loving even more the muffled moan that leaves you when he does so. 
"Y'like that?" he already knows you do, but just wants to hear you say it.
"Yes, again, please," each word comes out as a short gasping breath. He smacks your ass again, watching it jiggle against his palm has him thinking he's died and gone to heaven, you his personal angel. 
Although he can feel the end in sight, he wants to feel your pussy squeeze around his cock again, so he snakes his hand under your arched hips and toys with your clit. You're beyond fucked out at this point, but can't help but prop yourself up on straightened arms to give him more room to rub against you. He leans down to press his chest against your back, one arm coming down by your side to support his weight as he fucks down into you. 
"One more time," he lets out into the skin of your shoulder, "can you come for me one more time, princess?"
“I-” you start, about to tell him you’re unsure, but then he starts rubbing fast strokes against your clit and you’re already seeing stars. 
He’s fucking into you fast and hard, just like you’d asked him to. The feeling of you clenching down on him has him biting your shoulder to hold back his grunts and moans. As soon as he feels your pussy start to gush around him, your arms collapsing and legs shaking under him, he lets go with a soft grunt and spills his come deep inside you. 
He lets his cock stay there for a moment, pulsing inside you, relishing in the feeling of your hot cunt wrapped around him. He pulls out slowly and you let out a small yelp, letting your hips fully sink down to the mattress without his hands to heep you propped up. 
He runs a hand across your thigh, and you acknowledge your attention with a hum. 
“M’gonna go get something to clean you up,” his voice is soft and you nod into the pillows, making a half hearted attempt to roll your body over. He uses his discarded sweatpants to wipe off his forehead and chest, suddenly aware of how sweaty he is, you both are. 
He slips on his boxers and creeps down the hall to the kitchen, grabbing a big glass of water and a clean hand towel run under the sink. He slips back into the room to find you paid out on the bed, all sweaty and fucked out, it’s the best you’ve ever looked to him. 
He lifts you up by the shoulders and helps you sit up while you take a few sips of water and let out a “thank you” in between sips. He runs the warm cloth in between your legs a few times to catch anything sticky, before tossing it into the pile with his dirty clothes. 
You were already mostly knocked out, all the energy completely drained from your body. Typically you’d awkwardly dance around the notion of spending the night or not, but your eyes felt too heavy to care, and your body was already molded into his sheets. He flicked off the bedside light and got settled into bed next to you, thinking you were already completely asleep. 
“Thank you Eddie,” your voice was sleepy and almost didn't cut through the air.
“No problem, good sex is dehydrating,” he responds, assuming you meant the thanks for the water and towel. 
“No thank you for taking care of me,” you roll into his arms, snuggling up against him, “I didn’t know sex could be like that.” 
“Like what?” he partially knew what you meant, given that the three times you’ve ever come during sex all happened in the past hour. 
“Like magic,” you’d have been embarrassed to say it in other circumstances. But the post sex bliss and intense sleep that was washing over you made you sort of hazy and elated. 
“Yeah I think you’re pretty magic too,” he wrapped you up  in his arms, feeling the same tiredness, “good night y/n.”
The next morning he felt a sort of sore stiffness in his body, wiping the crust from his eyes and suddenly remembering the events of the night prior. There was an empty warm spot in the bed next to him, indicating you must have slipped out recently. He shook out his messy bedhead and threw on some sweatpants. 
A short trip down the hall brought him into the kitchen, where you were making a pot of coffee. You heard him come in from the hallway, and you suddenly tensed up at the thought of facing him. How did he look so damn good mid yawn, rubbing his face and his hair a wild mess. 
You turn towards the coffee machine on the counter, frantically trying to think of what to say or how to act towards him. Before you could give it too much thought, you feel his presence directly behind you, his arms caging you in and his back pressed against you. 
“Are you pouring me a cup?” he asks, hunching down to rest his chin on your shoulder. 
“Yes,” you elongate the word, taking in his scent and feeling his hair tickle your neck, “this is how you take it right? No cream, no sugar.”
“Mhmmm,” he mumbles into your hair, giving you a quick peck on the side of your neck before moving to grab the cup. 
“Wow okay early bird Eddie,” Robin’s voice cuts through the air of the kitchen and he immediately grabs his coffee and moves away from you. There’s no way she wouldn’t notice and the two of you cringe at the somewhat compromising position. 
“Okay I don’t think I want to know what the hell that was about,” she points between the two of you. Ahh Robin, master of the art of subtlety. 
Steve comes into the kitchen, immediately sensing the awkward air between everyone in the small space. 
“Oh god,” he looks from Robin’s pointing finger to the two of you with somewhat guilty expressions, “was THAT all that noise I heard last night? Jesus Christ you two.” He turns out of the kitchen dramatically, leaving Robin with a bewildered expression and the two of you cringing. 
“At least they’re fucking instead of fighting now!” she calls to him as he continues to walk down the hall away from you. 
Amongst Robin yelling and Steve leaving in a huff, Eddie manages to sneak his hand behind you and pinch your ass, making you jump a bit and the coffee in your cup to slosh around. He gives you a wink and starts to head out of the kitchen. 
“I’m gonna have my coffee by the lake, you joining me?”
Maybe this trip was going to be something special after all. 
All Eddie Fics Taglist: @eddielives1986
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lovelybucky1 · 6 months
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Nectar- Tommy Shelby x Reader
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warnings: AFAB!reader, f receiving oral sex, fingering, mentions of masturbation, blasphemy kink, church sex, heavy religious themes, corruption kink, dirty talk, canon typical violence
masterlist
The church is quiet like it always is at this hour. The pews empty of parishioners, the confessionals vacant, and the lights dim. The priest and almost everyone in the neighborhood have long been in bed. You, however, were wide awake.
You’ve been working in the church since you were a girl, per your family’s wishes. It’s mostly charity work: caring for the sick, poor, orphans, and others in need. You also spend a fair amount of time working inside the church, cleaning and whatnot. It is fulfilling work, but it doesn’t offer much in terms of pay, so you don’t have much of a space to call your own. That is why you spend your nights in the empty church, alone save for the conversations you have with God.
Since you spend so much time in the church, you’re pretty familiar with the congregation. It’s not often you see a new face unless a new family moves to the city. When you heard the heavy oak doors open, you were expecting a devout Catholic in crisis, not the notorious crime boss, Tommy Shelby.
You watch from the first pew near the altar as he walks down the aisle toward you. His hat and coat are wet from the rain, and once he takes a seat a few rows behind you, he takes them off. You’re confused, wondering what he could be doing in your church in the middle of the night. Part of you feels nervous, knowing that danger never follows far behind a Peaky Blinder.
“Good evening, Mr. Shelby,” you decide to speak up, voice kind and sweet as always.
Tommy’s eyes flick to you, but his expression is unreadable. “I’m not dead yet, eh?” he says. You look closer at him and in the dim light, you can just make out the dried blood splattered on his face.
So maybe it isn’t a good evening. Nevertheless, he has come to a church and he is allowed sanctuary here. You make your way over to where he sits and you stand at the end of the row, obviously looking hesitant if his glance is anything to go by.
“Do you mind if I sit?” you ask. Instead of a response, he cocks his head to the side in a way that you’re interpreting as go ahead. You sit down, pressing your knees together to make yourself as small as possible. There is about a foot of space between the two of you, but even still, the proximity to him is overwhelming.
As the two of you sit in silence, your mind starts to wander. You know his Aunt Polly is Catholic; she frequents the church, though she never attends the services. You’ve overheard her prayers before, and you understand why she prefers to pray in private.
“Are you Catholic, Mr. Shelby?”
Your desire for conversation seems to surprise him. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye before he goes back to looking straight ahead at the altar. It takes him a few moments to respond, and you can see the inner battle on his face as he decides how to answer.
“No,” he says.
“I see. Your Aunt is, though. I see her nearly every day.”
“And she’s a fool for it.” The bitter tone he takes only gives you more questions.
“I take it you don’t believe in God?”
“You’re quite inquisitive,” he says, shooting you a look. “God abandoned me long ago.”
You sigh. Many of the men held the same sentiment after they came back from the war. The horrors they experienced in France, the death and destruction took the fear of God away from these men. Now, all they fear is each other.
“It’s never too late to find him again,” you offer. Tommy lets out a dry, humorless chuckle in response. “You can still be saved.”
“I’m past the point of saving. I’ve got a spot in hell waiting for me.”
You frown at that. “God is all about forgiveness. God will even forgive men like you as long as you accept him.”
“What’s the point in asking forgiveness if I don’t indent on stopping?” he asks, leaning back in his seat, making himself look more intimidating. “And what do you mean, men like me?”
As if someone dumped a bucket of ice water on you, you immediately realize your mistake.
“I didn’t mean to offend you, sir. I just meant men in your… line of work,” you say, trying to backtrack.
“And what line of work is that?”
Tommy is sitting up now, leaning just slightly closer to you. Now that he is fully facing you, you can see the blood on his face, but by the lack of injuries he has, you’re suspecting it’s not his. His gaze is piercing as he stares into your eyes, smirking as he waits for you to respond.
“I-I don’t know.” With a small, satisfied smirk, Tommy leans back again. “I’m just saying, sir, you haven’t strayed too far from God’s light.”
That makes him chuckle again. “I see. So all I have to do is absolve myself, right? Confess my sins and I’ll be God’s child once again?”
He’s toying with you now. He wants to see if you are devoted enough to your God that you’d try to convince the biggest sinner in the city to become a religious man.
“That’s right,” you smile softly, still hesitant from your previous slip-up.
“Can I confess to you?” he asks.
“I’m not the priest-”
“I want to do this now. I want to find God.” His voice is so earnest that you believe him.
“Okay,” you agree. It’s about confessing to God, the person doesn’t matter. “We can go to the confessionals.” You begin to stand, but he stops you by grabbing your wrist.
“That’s far too formal, don’t you think? We can do it right here,” he says, the faintest look of mischief in his eyes.
You nod and sit back down, folding your hands onto your lap. Tommy slides off the bench and sinks to his knees on the floor, hands clasped in front of him.
“Bless me, for I have sinned,” he begins, looking into your eyes. “It’s been many years since my last confession. In my time away I’ve done many bad things, terrible things, that make me ashamed to look in the mirror. I’ve lied, stolen, scammed, and gambled. I live a life of deceit and greed, and I’ve found great success in doing so, but those are not the sins that weigh heaviest on me.”
You watch him intently as he speaks, your eyes tracing every word his mouth forms. Your heart begins to beat quicker in your chest; the idea that you’re getting access to information only meant for God makes you feel guilty, but it’s also exciting in a strange way.
“I’ve taken many lives. During the war, I was ordered to, but I continued once I came home. I’ve killed in every way imaginable. Shot in the head, slitting their throat, hanging, drowning, burning, suffocating. I’ve had men ripped apart for betraying me, and I did not feel remorse. I watched these men suffer as my men tortured them. I laughed as they pleaded for God to save them.”
Tommy doesn’t look as remorseful as most do when they’re confessing their terrible sins. He almost looks proud, like he’s bragging about them to you as you squirm under his gaze. The graphic descriptions he’s offering make you uncomfortable like your skin is too tight on your bones. Like he’s corrupting you just by having you listen to his tales.
There is a blaze behind his light blue eyes that captivate as much as they scare you. They bore into your soul and peel back the layers, revealing all of your inner thoughts. It makes you want to run away screaming, to pray for God to rid this world of the devil in front of you but you’re stuck, frozen in front of him as he confesses.
Tommy takes a breath as if what he is going to say next brings him great shame. As if he hasn’t already confessed the worst sins man could commit.
“Perhaps worst of all, I lust. I lust after women and I envy men with beautiful wives to the point I take them for myself. I’ve had many married women in my bed, as well as hers. I fuck whores too, but only the pretty ones. And they can’t be cheap, because those women can’t keep a secret. I don’t only fuck them in the bed. I’ve fucked in my office, my car, and my pub. It doesn’t matter who these women are, but once I have my sights set on them, I am determined to get what I want.”
The confessions about his sex life shock you. Of course, you know people have pre-marital sex and affairs are common, but you’ve spent your life in the church. You don’t hear of these things frequently, and you feel bashful because of his vulgar words. Tommy holds eye contact with you as he speaks, though you find it difficult to meet his eyes.
Your body betrays you now; you’re unsure how to react. You should be scared, you are scared. There is a murderer less than two feet from you, splattered with someone else’s blood. However, he has a soothing, gentle voice, kind eyes, and a soft smile. It’s hard to believe that the man on his knees praying to God is a monster, but you find it harder to believe that there is a heat growing between your thighs from his confessions.
The vivid images of Tommy with some faceless woman play in your mind. You imagine the way he’d look lost in pleasure, carefree and blissful. You imagine how his rough hands, which are currently clasped together, would feel on your skin. You imagine how his voice would sound in your ear, how his lips would feel as he whispers.
Your heartbeat picks up in your chest, a physical reaction from the fantasies. Your skin feels hot, burning with shame as you pray that Tommy doesn’t notice your current state.
“And finally, I’d like forgiveness for lusting after the church girl who was stupid enough to think she could show me the light,” he says, hands now dropped at his side and gaze predatory.
Entranced by his words, you didn’t notice how close he had leaned in, now only inches from your face. Your breath hitches in your throat and for a split-second, you think you see Tommy’s eyes on your lips.
“Sir?” you ask, voice no more than a squeak.
“I appreciate your efforts, dear, but I sold my soul many years ago.”
Tommy’s eyes are sharp and his grin is wide as he leans closer to you. He has lured you into his trap and you fell for it like a fool. Now, helpless and trapped, he is going to swallow you whole. Your heartbeat throbs in your ears, almost downing out his sweet, deep voice.
Tommy places his hands on your knees, and even through the fabric of your skirt, you can feel the coolness of his skin. The touch, although not sexual in nature, electrifies you. A shiver runs down your spine and Tommy must notice if the slight smirk is anything to go by.
“Are you alright?” he asks, a teasing lilt to his voice.
“Yes,” you choke out.
“Would you mind helping me?”
You furrow your brow, now much more hesitant to do anything for him. Your heart is still hammering in your chest and you’re certain you are trembling slightly.
“With what?” you manage to ask. Somehow, even on his knees below you, Tommy makes you feel small.
“I need something new to worship,” he says.
Tommy slides his hands down your claves until he reaches the hem of your dress, which he then pushes up to reveal your stockinged legs. He gently guides your knees apart and you allow him until you feel too exposed. You resist against him and he looks up at you with a questioning look.
“I-I can’t,” you say.
“You can lie to yourself, you can lie to God, but you can’t lie to me,” Tommy says, grasp still from on your knees but no longer pushing. “You want this.”
You look away, over your left shoulder as you try to hold onto any of the values you held before Tommy entered the church. You’re saving yourself for marriage, and even worse, you hadn’t formally met Tommy before tonight. There’s no love, no future, between the two of you. It goes against everything you have been taught since you were a girl, but he is appealing to the primal side of you. The side of you that slips your fingers underneath your nightgown after you say your nightly prayers. The side of you that allows your eyes to linger on the men in the chuch during service, even as their wives and children sit beside them.
Tommy is not putting the thoughts of sin in your head, he is simply tempting you to act upon the urges you have felt for years.
“You’re the devil,” you whisper.
“And you’re the fuckin’ Virgin Mary,” he counters. “You spend all your life worrying about what’s going to happen when you die. How about I show you what it’s like to live, eh?”
You set your jaw, trying to save a bit of your dignity before you give the man on the floor permission to debase you. You squeeze your eyes shut and nod your head, but that is not enough for Tommy.
“I need to hear you say it.”
You wonder if he is really concerned with how much you want this, or if this is just another power move. You swallow thickly and resolve yourself to the reality of the situation: if you want anything from the devil with the silver tongue, you’ll have to play his game.
“I want it.”
You’re Eve, and you have just been tempted to take a bite out of the apple by the snake.
With a wicked grin, Tommy presses a kiss to the inside of your knee and, embarrassingly, the contact makes you jolt. He removes your shoes, unbuckling them quickly and with ease, then placing them underneath the pew. His hands reach up your skirt to grab ahold of the top of your stocking. He gently rolls them down your smooth leg and pulls it off your foot before turning his attention to the other one.
It is unnecessary for him to undress you like this, especially when your stockings wouldn’t be an obstacle. There is something about being unusually bare in a church that makes you ache with guilt, and Tommy must know that. He seems like he knows everything.
He bunches the skirt around your upper thighs and he spreads your legs farther. This time, you don’t resist. You swear you see his mouth water when he catches a glimpse of your white knickers, pristine and perfect like a good girl should wear.
“What a precious little thing you are,” he grins.
Tommy ducks his head and drags his nose along your inner thigh until he reaches your clothed mound. He presses his face between your legs and takes a long, slow inhale like he’s smoking a cigarette. His fingers press firmly into your legs and you’re certain you will have bruises left behind. You should be upset about that but truthfully, you’ve longed for something like this.
Tommy’s fingers find the edge of your panties and gently push them to the side, exposing your pussy to the church air. Your breath hitches in your throat and you watch as he stares shamelessly at you. He swipes his finger through your folds to gather your wetness on his fingertip. He brings his hand back to show your desire glistening in the dim light.
“What’s all this?” he asks smugly.
“Don’t make fun of me,” you huff.
“Oh love, I’m not making fun. I think it’s sweet how worked up you got over nothin’.”
Tommy leans in again and his hot breath fans over your cunt, which now feels cool from being in the open. You shiver with anticipation as he nears, and your body jolts when his tongue makes contact with you. It’s a light, barely there touch but it sends an electric shock through you and elicits an embarrassing moan.
You hear him chuckle, but he doesn’t stop or say anything else. He licks a stripe from your entrance to your clit, then back down. Your hands twitch at your sides, fighting back the urge to grab him, not wanting to show how much you’re enjoying his torture. He knows, of course.
He works you up slowly, not giving too much attention to one spot, not making you too sensitive. You keep your attention focused on him, watching intently as he pleasures you. You don’t even feel the sting of his nails digging into your thighs when he sucks on your clit.
“Sir, please, this is wrong,” you try to reason, but your broken, airy voice sends a different message. You don’t want him to stop, you’d probably cry if he did, but it’s still wrong. It’s still a sin.
You hold on tightly to the edge of the wooden bench to ground yourself so you don’t get lost in the pleasure. Part of you realizes how ridiculous this situation is: a notorious gangster eating out an innocent little church girl. Another part of you couldn’t give less of a shit and just wants to cum.
“Mr. Shelby, please,” you whine. It’s unclear if you’re begging for more or to stop, but Tommy doesn’t seem to care either way. He’s going to give you what he wants and nothing more, nothing less.
He slides two fingers into your soaking cunt and curls them against that spot deep inside of you that makes your toes curl. He fucks you with his fingers and works your clit with his tongue, and you feel yourself nearing the edge faster than you ever have before.
You build up to your peak, and after a particularly harsh suck to your clit, you begin to cum. Your orgasm shutters through you, making your legs twitch on his shoulders. You let out an unintelligible whine as you grip the bench. Despite having cum, Tommy doesn’t let up on his assault. He continues to suck on your over sensitive clit until you’re shrieking and pushing his head away.
He chuckles and sits back on his heels, looking at you with a glistening face. He makes a show of pushing up his sleeve and wiping his face with the back of his hand. You want to close your legs to stop the cool air from hitting your sensitive cunt, but he is still in the way, keeping you exposed.
“Nectar of the gods in there,” he smirks, glancing down at your soaked pussy.
Without another word, he stands up. He picks up his hat and coat, and begins to walk down the aisle, leaving you alone.
“Wait,” you say, voice echoing in the church. He stops and turns around, eyebrow raised. “That’s it?”
“What more do you want?” he asks.
“What about you?”
Tommy chuckles. “Such a generous soul. I’ll take care of it myself, love. You just get to prayin’. We did a lot of sinning you have to repent for.”
You sigh and nod. “Will I see you again?”
“If I decide to become a priest,” he says with a smirk before turning on his heel and continuing out the door.
You know Tommy Shelby will never turn to priesthood, but you do have a feeling he’s found something in the church worth coming back for.
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shaisuki · 18 days
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SHIT! THAT HURTS, BUT IT'S AN ACCIDENT. RIGHT, SWEETHEART?
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ft. gojo satoru, nanami kento, fushiguro toji, geto suguru
content warnings ─── noncon, dacryphilia, implied kidnapping, punishments, forced affection, choking, stockholm syndrome, blood, forced marriage, delusions.
ᝰ synopsis .ᐟ accidents do happen. that's why you accidentally hit them but thank the heavens above, they understand. it would be easier if you just let them do what they want.
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GOJO SATORU
the accumulated perspiration coming from the deepest end of your dermis shows it appearance as it runs down to your forehead. goosebumps rising as you felt his presence getting nearer. there's no blood lust or the imminent danger that tells your mind to run. accustomed from the conditioning your body had done every time you sense his presence.
your grip on the edge of your book gets tighter as the pages crumple at your very touch. you hoped he's tired or isn't in a bad mood. in that way he would just force you to cuddle him until you fall asleep. one thing you knew with living with him that is he never sleeps or so you think. you didn't know. you never catched him being asleep. it's not like you're going to murder him in cold blood.
you shift in your seat. trying to find a comfortable position despite the weariness growing in you and pretends you're engrossed in your book. you didn't want to send him a message that you're scared of him but you weren't comfortable with him either.
cold palms holds your round cheeks and you were greeted by him smiling. his dimples deepening and he is yet to remove his blindfold. “i'm home, my love.” and he squeezes your cheeks a little hard. anticipating the words that will come flowing out of your mouth. it's a warning. your lips tremble a bit. “w—welcome home, satoru.” you managed to say out aloud and he was satisfied. hooking a finger in his blindfold before pulling it up and discarding it. a sign that his attention is all on you now.
“would you like something to eat?” you asked him. biting your tongue at the question. regretting at your choice of yours and you should have stayed silent. your brain screaming and hoping that he is actually hungry and you're not insinuating that will get him riled up.
gojo chuckles. “you could be so cheeky, mochi.” pinching your round cheek. “you know the answer.” he said and you panic for a brief moment before he takes it back. “as much i'd like to have you for dinner, i prefer us sharing a meal tonight.” you wished this was set on a different timeline. where you would be his from your own will. his good housewife where you will miss him for real and share the sentiments of being together despite busy schedules but it's not. you're still sane and you were just playing pretend.
a quick hot meal and the plates and bowls are already laden with food. you both ate in silence. aside from him spoon feeding you. watched in glee as you ate what he feeds you. your lips around the chopsticks while you chew and hums in delight.
the meal ends when the dishes are stacked in the sink and you told him that you'll take care of it while he takes a bath. he didn't look at you suspiciously. confident in himself that can't run away from him and you knew that too well.
you're almost finished drying the plates when he got out of the shower. never liked staying for too long when you're here. itching to get closer to you every time he's far away from you and he takes a little longer to admire his wife doing the simplest of things. the calmness of your face and your body moving in slow motion. it's almost he was being serenaded with such tranquility coming from you. he almost feels bad when he's the reason sometimes of your tears.
he slowly walks towards you. encasing you in his arms and he feels you stiffen against his touch. body turning rigid while his large hands dwarfs over to your smaller hands. helping you wipe the plate dry until there is nothing left to clean.
“satoru, not tonight. please.” your husband began to kiss you. he likes the word "husband". it brings him joy knowing that he is yours. “why?” he asks. his hard on poking through his gray sweatpants and is pressed to your ass. “i'm not in the mood.” you reason out. holding his wrists in a firm hold. his hands creeping under your blouse. his fingers digging in the plushness of your stomach. “then let's get you in the mood.” he breath out. kissing the side of your head and then to your jaw. his hands kneading the flesh in your stomach like dough. his touch were like fire. scorching and scalding. burning in your skin and causing you pain that you can't measure with.
“please! not tonight!” you snap out in anger. in frustration. sick to your stomach of letting him do whatever he pleases. of pretending that you like whatever he does.
he stops for a moment. listening to your plea and he grabs your shoulder. making you turn around to face him. he cups your jaw and forcing you to look at his eyes. you could stare at those icy blue eyes that looks like spheres where the universe is held forever. instead you loathed it. it's a reminder how vast the world is and here you are, imprisoned and is forced to this man's whims.
your lips are soft against him. he missed kissing you. he's been away for a week and you're here, denying him. he took it as an advantage to wrapped his arms around your waist before hoisting you above. your body beginning to struggle against him but he continued to kiss you until you were both in the bed. placing you down before his body traps you.
“is it because i was rough last week, baby?” his voice laced with concern that it's poison to hear. “no. i just don't want to be with you tonight.” your eyes begins to get heavy with tears. “not now, satoru.” you begged hoping he would stop. gojo grasps your cheek. “i'm sorry if i was rough but i will be gentle tonight.” he assures you but no words can convince you.
then you leave him no choice.
he puts his shin in your thighs preventing movements and lessening your resistance to him and then in a brief flash when your wrist got loose. his cheek started to sting. the crimson liquid seeping in the cracks of his dermis and he smiles. halting his assault to you and relish in the physical pain you put him through. since when did he got injured last? feel the pain of the surface of his body. he fought the strongest of curses. fought with toughest of foes. got stabbed with a blade and shaked the hands of death.
there's infinity protecting him and yet, he can't shield himself from loving you and he's more than willing to accept your touch and harm him in anyways you can.
he watched you as you curl up in a fetal position. protecting your body from him as you sobbed. the first tears rolling down in your cheeks and staining the pillows below you.
this won't stop. you would be always in this position no matter how you resist. you braced yourself for what to come and you were met with nothing. no greedy of his hands touching you and you were relieved. maybe, he gave up for tonight.
how wrong you are. you look at him through blurry eyes and his pale cheeks were colored in his blood. you did it. you inflicted pain in him. you wounded him. you take a gulp of air. calming your erratic heartbeat. not once did it crossed your mind you can harm him. with his infinity and those eyes and the endless power bestowed to him. you could never.
there is a look of animosity behind your eyes that he can see clearly. he's a little hurt aside from the wound. your soft body is sprawled beneath him. sobs racking throughout your body and it hurts him a little to see you crying.
“i thought it will change....” a hiccup interrupted your following words then when you regained your control to speak, you continued. “...my feelings for you. that one day, despite of what you had done. i'll learn to love you...” your fist clenching. your hands making a close-open motion before turning into a fist again. grasping the blanket. “nothing changed, i'm sick of playing house with you. i fucking hate you.” all the madness and you don't think it will reach to him.
a little. he knows how much you despised him. loathed him.
he don't care though. you were still his wife. no matter what you were feeling. be it hatred or fondness that he will never attain. you already hate him, what's the point of caring for your silly, little feelings when he can always make it up to you.
“i know.” he whispers. brushing a lock of your hair and leaning down to press his forehead to yours. his blue eyes staring intently in your eyes, tears at the corner.
alas, it never ends. your tears, your voice and will being taken away. how his hands latching at the lapels of your top. ripping it apart just like how he always do. your pajama shorts following.
bite your lips as he slowly penetrates you. don't make a sound. you tell to yourself. just don't. don't. don't. don't. don't. don't. don'—.
he promises to himself that after this, he would spoil you. buy all your favorite snacks, new clothes, a whole set of the book he knows you really like. he would take the day off to spend the rest of his days pampering you. kiss all the parts where it hurts but now, let him feel you as he kisses the salty streaks of your tears in your cheek. stare at your eyes and search for his reflection. his fingers intertwining at yours and when you squeezed his hands back, he'll convince himself that you really loved him despite all of that.
and it's more than enough.
NANAMI KENTO
you spend your days lounging around. the ankle cuffs weighing heavier than it is. search every cracks and cranny of the penthouse, hoping to entertain yourself and you've found some rather interesting things but it was nothing when you found the key to your freedom.
an old model of a phone. it wasn't damaged at the very least along with a few scratches and a minimal crack in the corner of the screen. you think it was nanami's phone during his high school years but you set aside the thoughts. this was necessary for your freedom.
pressing the key button, you let out a sharp gasp. the device vibrates and beeps with the model's ringtone. every second feels like eternity waiting for it to power up.
the screen lights up. showing you the screensaver and the date and time that was at least a decade ago. you check if there is network and you were graced with a full bar signalling that it was capable of calling someone. you changed the date and time to match with today and to avail the services.
your hands shaking as you tapped the buttons one by one. unaware of the door opening and the footsteps getting closer to where you are. you didn't even think he'd be home this early.
there's a sound akin to a purr when you pressed the button a little longer. it's the last digit of the number of the person you've been itching to call since you've been declared missing. they must be worried sick. your hands shake, getting clammy as you pressed the call button. there's static then the familiar hum of the number being dialed.
dialing.
dialing..
dialing...
“hello?” the familiar voice of your mom at the end of the receiver and your hands tremble. you breathe in and out. steadying your breathing and you want to break in a sob. this is it. someone is going to help you now. a tear falls before you can speak.
“mom! m—.” it happens in a slow motion. his large and warm palm in yours before he pulls the phone away from you. pressing the end call button swiftly and putting it in his pockets. since when? since when did he get back? wasn't he at work?
“give it back!” you yelled, reaching out for him. for his pockets. why did it have to be so close yet so far. “darling, you can't.” he says apologetically. pursing his lips in thin line and he can feel a migraine coming.
“no! stop telling me what to do! i'm so sick of you controlling me!” you almost spat at his face. desperately clawing him to get that device. he holds your shoulder, stopping your advances in him but you kept fighting for it. punching at him with your fists but what are you to the man who was built like a solid rock.
he's patient but sometimes his patience runs thin when things doesn't go in his way. he's already in a sour mood after having to deal with a colleague and you, his supposed to be sweet wife is fighting him. with no choice, he lifts you up. putting you in his shoulders like you were a sack of potatoes.
that didn't hinder you and you were putting up a fight. your freedom was that close and you couldn't let this chance slip. your arms hitting his back and your legs moving. squirming as you try to wrestle your way out from his grip.
“let me go! let me call my mom!” you sniffle. the tears flowing from your cheeks freely staining the back of his shirt. your arms still flailing and with a particular movement. your elbow made contact on his cheek. nanami remains stoic and he knows it will bruise.
you limply slide away from his body when his hold on to you got loose. clutching your arms and watch droplets of your tears fall on the ground. your hiccups were sudden and squeezes your chest with every breath. “i just want to go home.” you whisper.
when will you ever learn?
and why does it hurt him when you cry even when it's your fault. he loves you. a part of his brain tell him. it's an accident. he tells to himself. you were never meant to hurt him and you were just missing your mother. what a pain. you were supposed to be dead in the outside world. now, your existence are known and it would not take long before it spreads about you being alive. perhaps, he can make arrangements regarding to your family members.
he loves you and that's why he only tolerates your misbehaviors but now, he don't think he can put up with this tantrums again. you needed to learn.
nanami kneels down at your level. his hazel eyes warm and gives you the illusion that he'll let go of this but it was unforgiving. he cradles your cheek with his palm. “i'm sorry darling, you need to learn a lesson.”
the blonde sorcerer watch in desire as shiver runs down throughout your body. his fingers tracing the outline of your back where your spine is covered by your supple flesh. normally, nanami would take pleasure in this. watch as you writhe and squirm for him. it's considered therapeutic for him but in the next minutes it would be going to be hard for you.
your face buried in the sheet while your ass is in the air. bare and sore from the previous spanking and it's not enough. you needed to learn. take a lesson in what he's about to do and he's not forgiving at all times.
he rubs his fingers into your clit. flicking and pinching to get you nice and wet for him. although he's strict on prepping you first — stretching you properly with his fingers, tonight it wouldn't be present. he hopes you're already wet before he sinks his cock into you.
you feel him rub his cock to your slit before slowly inserting his cock into your hole. you winced as his large cock forces you to open for him. he's big and it hurts. tears stains the sheets under you as you bit the fabric. muffling your discomfort and the pain that spreads in your sex.
shit, all he can do is grit his teeth while your cunt engulfs his length. he can hear your whimpers and gasps and see the tears spreading in the sheets. he needs to do it or else it'll happen again. he can never let you go or leave him. you will always be forever with him.
when he taught that you're well and adjusted to him, nanami began to piston his hips at a brutal pace. the slam of his hips to yours makes your flesh jiggle and watch it stack in layers and fuck, it's beautiful how your body moves and responds to his every touch. just bare with it. he thinks to himself. he won't last too long from how good you are to him and true to it, he's already spilling his load inside you.
and now he regrets it. your back is pressed against his chest while he rubs the sore spots all over your body. you remained motionless. blinking the tears away and how you flinches away from his touch. remaining quiet and barely acknowledging his presence.
“forgive me, my darling.” he whispers to you. kissing your shoulders in attempt of redeeming himself from being too rough with you. his heart breaks when you ignored him. making yourself smaller in his presence despite being caged in his arms.
sighing, he continues his affections to you. knowing in due time you had your share and you wouldn't want to experience any of it again.
one thing he's sure of. you will never attempt again with his wrongdoings plaguing your mind and it's better. conveniently perfect for him until the next time.
FUSHIGURO TOJI
who thought you could put a fight.
although the damage was minimal, adrenaline pumps in his system. it's clear you were startled and your flight or fight response kicking in, in which you choose the latter to defend yourself.
a huge scratch mark decorating his arm and toji barks a laugh. licking his lips and the scar on the corner of his mouth twitches. it wasn't any different to the marks littering in his back from his artist of a wife. it wasn't bleeding but it stings when the cold air touches his peeled skin.
emerald eyes glimmers in amusement and toji crouches to your sniveling form in the corner of the bed. he cups your round cheek with his hand. “what do you say, princess when you've hurt someone?” he asks. humming to get that answer but you stubbornly avoided his gaze. rubbing your hands in your arms to comfort yourself.
toji clicks his tongue in annoyance. “it looks like you've forgotten your manners, huh?” he grabs your wrist and you pulled it away from him but toji kept his grip tight and bruising. almost crushing your wrist. “need me to teach it to you, sweetheart?” the sorcerer assassin taunts you. you shaked your head and toji sighs. you're going to learn it the hard way.
it's bruising. his hand wrapped around your neck and you see little spots of white in your vision while he drills his cock in your cunt. his other hand in your plush waist using it as a leverage to get deeper in your pussy. “are you really make me say it, you stubborn bitch.”
you can't speak. not when his hand are wrapped in your throat. you can't even make a sound and you stare back at him with tears in your eyes while you squeezed around him. earning a involuntarily moan from the man above you.
he loosens his grip and you took gulps of air before speaking, “i—i'm sorry.” you manage to croak out and toji chuckles. “see, it wasn't that hard to say. you really like being fucked by me before you can learn your lesson. keep it in mind, that me fucking you is second to me killing those monkeys outside.” toji leans down to whisper those words to you. looking at you side ways and watch your expression morphs into something of fear, desire as you moaned around him.
“don't be fucking stubborn to me the next time or you will get worse than this. i won't be forgiving you.” he warns. “understand?”
“yes.” you say nodding.
“good fucking girl.”
GETO SUGURU
you were absolutely mortified. he can see clearly how your lips trembled and the hue of your eyes being clouded with fear. shocked even. he knows you didn't mean it and you barely made a scratch on him.
“come here, sweet girl.” geto calmly called you but you shake your head. taking steps backwards like you were afraid of him. “now.” his voice now assertive and you slowly walk towards him. head hung low from being ashamed of harming your master.
“i—i'm sorry, geto-sama. i didn't mean it.” you drawl out to him and his fingers went to grasp your chin. meeting his gaze and you were nervous just by looking at them.
“i know you don't.” his hands finding your back to rub it. assuring you that it was fine and no harm was done to him and only the feeling of being betrayed that you felt unsafe around him. thinking that he will lash out at you and force you to unimaginable things that he's capable of but curse user is not like that. he values you that much but it doesn't mean you'll get away from it.
“but it is an accident i can't turn a blind eye on. are you scared of me?” he asks. his gaze turning dark as he looks at you straight in the eye.
you remained silent. truth be told, you are. you are scared of him. you've witnessed how he can commit such heinous acts without remorse and you're afraid that you'll upset him and you're going to end up like them. that's what you think but geto is far from that to you.
he noticed how your body trembles. the face of anxiety is visible for him to see and he chuckles to himself, amused. he was just playing with you and the answer is clear in front of him.
he brushes his lips to yours. “do not fear me, sweet girl.” he murmurs. the action enough to topple you in the edge and he hears your heart beating in your rib cage. your breath stuck in your throat and your eyes blown with lust.
“you always can make it up to me.” he says to you before turning his back to you and it was your cue to follow him in his private quarters.
that's why you found yourself bare in front of him. sweat glistening in your skin while you worked to please him. accident or not, you need to make it up for him. a way you can be freed from the burden you are now carrying by bestowing the most of heinous of acts to him. one thing that you promised yourself that you will never lay a hand in him unless he instructs you so.
you just love him so much that you're blind that you are only being exploited for his own gains.
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shisurus · 17 days
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can't stop thinking about dungeon meshi btw. how it comes down to being able to appreciate the hard and painful times because of the moments of happiness you experienced along the way.
it's about falin being able to forgive and look beyond the harsh way things were done- be it their father announcing he will send her away from the village or laios leaving her behind- partly due to her personality, and how she used to prioritize her loved ones' needs and emotions over her own, but also because of the positive impact that road eventually had on her. she knows her family was trying to protect her but what truly made it impossible to regret the path she had to take were the precious memories she made later on- it was learning magic and seeing new places and becoming friends with marcille and of course she couldn't hate it all, she was happy. it's about laios feeling so utterly miserable because on his end, it seemed like nothing good or enjoyable happened to him after leaving home, aside from the letters written by falin. but how long can a child be satisfied with another's happiness which he never got to experience himself?
so it really is beautiful that the series started off with him realizing that this journey allowed him to finally feel that happiness he was yearning for-
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-and ended with everyone else realizing it too. when you first read chapter 11 it's just a funny gag about people not understanding laios, but it genuinely was too early for them to share his sentiment. they needed to come to terms with it on their own, with chilchuck opening up to them and senshi resolving the hovering mystery of his past and izutsumi freeing herself and joining their party and marcille facing her greatest fear. the winged lion was taking advantage of the loneliness and anger and pain lingering in laios's heart, but even it couldn't deny this. how, despite everything, he couldn't be satiated and his own happiness couldn't be complete without his friends' happiness too. how it was always about everyone enjoying a meal together.
and then there's marcille, who refused to admit it until the very end. it's in the way she had such a hard time fully accepting eating monsters despite how tasty she found them, not just due to how weird they were but also because she tried rejecting and burying her own pleasure and joy during this entire journey. from the very beginning, she was only willing to endure the pain and suffering.
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as if she couldn't accept feeling an ounce of comfort, satisfaction, let alone happiness while falin was suffering on her own. and it might've been laios's reaction as well if all of this had happend a decade ago- i mean, that's exactly what he did back then. blaming himself for leaving her behind, being tormented by her loneliness and absence while falin was actually slowly moving towards a brighter future. it was him that was stuck, not her. but he kept focusing on her pain to ignore how deep the hole in his own heart had become, consumed by guilt to ignore his own agony, or to make sense of it- because maybe he did deserve it after all he had done.
and for that reason marcille was so terrified of admitting there was warmth in what she considered the depths of hell. because it would mean accepting falin going ahead of her and leaving her behind, accepting the inevitable she was trying so hard to deny and the end of her dream.
but it was learning there's joy even in her worst nightmare that allowed her to finally embrace those moments of pleasure that made her life worth living, however short they were. she realized that her pursuit would take away the things that truly mattered to her, that if she had succumbed to her fear of loss she would've been the one hurting her loved ones, just as happened to thistle. laios asking her to use ancient magic for falin's resurrection and then encouraging her to not give up on her desires during the nightmare chapter was a direct parallel to delgal being the one to push thistle down the road of destruction, while both marcille and thistle were trying to protect the people most important to their friends.
but in marcille's case, laios was able to understand her at the end, pulling her back just before she descended to complete ruin. it's truly fascinating how the story is not only about laios being understood but also getting to understand others properly, deeply- it's about mutual understanding, the balance between two people he never managed to maintain before. and i think it's only after seeing thistle's tragedy that he was able to fully realize what might become of marcille down the line. so while delgal put the weight of the world on thistle's shoulders, laios was the one to tell marcille she doesn't have to do that. because even if falin's resurrection hadn't succeeded, they both already know- there's happiness even in the dungeon's pit. and it's by preparing a hearty meal made of her loved one's remains that marcille was able to truly accept it- thus allowing herself to enjoy it to the fullest, embracing the cycle of life, no matter how weird or painful or grotesque it is.
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luckycloverforducks · 1 month
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Fuck it, HH swap AU
Their core personalities and backgrounds stay the same, it's mostly a role switch
Niffty <--> Husker
Angel Dust <--> Vaggie
Alastor <--> Charlie
(the typical for swap AUs, I know,,)
Everyone else stays the same
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These r edits bc I was just figuring out their designs for the AU, I'll draw them normally another time (Husker isn't here cuz I can't find a good png of the mf)
(+) ANGEL'S EDIT IS AT THE END CUZ I FORGOT
In this AU Alastor started the hotel mostly because he randomly thought up the idea once and thought, "that's fucking hilarious, I'm doing that" + a secondary sentimental reason he'd kill me for saying (he got genuinely fully invested in the cause eventually)
He advertised it on his radio show suddenly out of the blue after 7 and a half years of radio (lol) silence. Alastor still owns Husker's and Niffty's souls but they're also obviously friends (or atleast close to it)
Also he can read tarot bc why not :3
Charlie is closer to her dad in this AU and more sheltered, adopting a more aloof, smug, and dangerous persona so sinners take her seriously, she also has a very slight condescending outlook towards sinners but she's at her core still compassionate and still views them as her people and want to protect them to a certain extent, and she still thinks the Exterminations are unnecessary and cruel, but she doesn't feel like she can do much about it since according to Lucifer's stories and discouragement, she knows heaven likely wouldn't listen much if at all, but when she heard of Alastor's little project it resparked hope in her and she decided to invest in it, becoming co-owner and funder for the hotel.
Angel Dust/Anthony never made a deal with Valentino and actually stayed in his family's crime/mafia business for the 1st half of him being in Hell, but his dad is a POS and kicked him out for being gay so he started doing s3x work, and then he met Alastor after he brutalized his harassers one day, and Angel wanted to repay the favor somehow. Alastor seems interested in him so they struck a deal (not a soul deal, just a simple deal) which has Angel/Anthony is under Alastors protection in exchange for Angel/Anthony's loyalty and assistance when needed (which is a rare case so Angel still feels like he owes Alastor). They grow friendly with time, and Alastor offers to have him be patient zero for his redemption project, and he accepted.
Vaggie/Vi is still a fallen exterminstor and still met Charlie the same way she did in the show, but after that they went their separate ways and Vi finds herself making a deal with Velvette. Instead of being a pornstar like Angel in the show, she is an influencer and a rockstar/singer, she does enjoy making music and playing the guitar but Velvette tends to overwork her and make her do things she doesn't really like for views/popularity. Velvette is the nicest to Vi/Vaggie compared to with her other employees (which isn't a very highly set bar tbh) but she also frequently break her boundaries.
Vi met Charlie again during one of her concerts and they got close and started dating. (Also one sided Velvette x Vaggie is sort of slightly maybe canon in this AU bc toxic Yuri is fun (and it's only fully one sided after Charlie and Vaggie/Vi started dating))
She helps manage the hotel when needed, but is honestly only there cause Charlie is.
Not much about Niffty changes tbh (she's perfect the way she is, utterly unhinged 😍) she's just a bit more mellowed out and less hyper (she's still hyper just not all the time like in the show) and she's also a bartender and has surprisingly good taste for alcohol, and also frequently makes borderline poisonous drinks while experimenting, but when she gets it right it's really good. Doesn't stop the others of being terrified of her drinks though
Husker is a more smiley and charming in this AU, using a laid back attitude to put people at ease and more willing to open up to him if they need to (he used to use the information people share as blackmail when he needs to back when he was an Overlord, although he never actually needs to spread anything, just threats), and he's still very observant but he's also slightly more unhinged- He's a sort of butler/cleaner for the hotel
He still gets grumpy time to time, but mostly when he's drunk, which isn't as often anymore ever since Niffty was put in charge of the bar (understandably so)
He has a bit of an anger issue and also gets annoyed easily, and sometimes makes unhinged threats as a sort of joke (they stop being much of a joke once you genuinely piss him off)
He likes things clean and tidy because it helps him pretend to be put together
He and Alastor are a bit friendlier compared to in the show, hes still one of the few people that knows more about Alastor, though hes still bummed about the whole being owned by Alastor thing (Husker can also read tarot to a lesser extent bc Al taught him for funzies and Husker thought it's interesting)
His gambling addiction is also ever so slightly worse
Angel Dust --v
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nanaminsmoon · 9 months
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𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝.
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a/n: i don't know how i feel about this yet but i hope it's okay lol. but i do know that i need this man real bad. and i picked this song bc it just kinda reminds me of this:)) also, i'm british but i always imagine the characters i write to have american accents so that's how i write them:))
cw: throat fucking, breeding, connie calls reader 'ma', 'hermosa', and 'baby', oral (f + m receiving), connie nuts on reader, n word usage, connie speaks spanish 2x; 'lo sé, hermosa, lo sé' (i know, beautiful, i know); 'quieres un hijo, ma?' (you want a kid, ma?)
wc: 2286
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you always knew connie was a problem. from the day your ex introduced you to him, and his eyes’ journey across your body was one that should not be taken by a guy your man called his ‘best friend’. connie’s treatment towards you had never held any resemblance to that of a friend. it was almost as if he had no desire to hide his want for you. shown by the way he spent the rest of that evening, at eren’s house, eye-fucking you. his eyes probing you; brushing across your entire body, making the hairs on your skin rise at his command.
after that night, his eyes would return to you; attaching themselves to any moving flesh, as you shook ass when you guys all went out together. but, once again, you brushed him off. and you could've sworn you whined on him one time but the dim lighting in the club meant that you could never confirm. it was never to the extent where he made you particularly uncomfortable, you just needed to know what the nigga’s problem was. so you asked your, now ex, boyfriend ony about it. but he had accused you of blowing it all out of proportion.
“just because the nigga looked at you, you think he wants you?”, he had scoffed, shaking his head at you.
“it’s not about him looking, ony, it’s how he looked.”, you defended, and ony had rolled his eyes and carried on with whatever he was doing. that marked the first of many arguments you two had about connie.
the turning point came when you and ony broke up, and the first person to text you as soon as it happened was…connie. it was as if he had been waiting for this very moment since he met you. and he had. but, unlike his prolonged affections for you, the message he sent you was short.
”you good?”, you looked at your screen through teary eyes, and saw that he was facetiming you. so you, hesitantly, answered and you were met with a sentimental connie, throwing condolences your way. ensuring you that you would be fine, and telling you praises like; ‘you were too good for him anyways’ and ‘i would never treat a girl as beautiful and smart as you like that. i don’t know what he was thinking’. and, as sweet as his words were, you couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at his words that denounced his friend, aimed at the ears of his ex-girlfriend. but their comfort outweighed all the suspicions, so those calls became more regular. and, perhaps, that's how you got to where you are now; head upside down over the edge of his bed, with his dick fucking in and out of your throat.
“why you ain’t leave him sooner, y/n? i know he ain't ever fucked you like this”, your head tried to shake a response to him and he just laughed down at you, thinking you were absolutely adorable. even with all that spit spilling out the corners of your mouth, and your mascara running all over your face.
he had invited you over to just “chill”, but you knew better and went in a matching bra and thong—you didn’t know if it was just post-breakup loneliness, or wishful thinking because you had been feeling him for timeee. but it was a gesture he had laughed at once he took your clothes off.
“you want this dick just as bad as it wants you, huh?”, he had laughed, earning an abashed giggle from yourself. how he ended up fucking your throat, you didn't know. but you had weakened this man’s knees considerably, and now both of his hands were placed on your knees. the sight of your dainty hands toying with your clit as he used your throat as a cock sleeve made his dick pulsate in your throat. so he pulled out of you, slowly, groaning before he had two seconds to position his dick and nut all over your chest and stomach.
you no longer had loyalties to ony, so you could freely admit that connie was eating you out in a way ony never had. the pleasure he was giving you travelled through every cell in your body, even reaching your fingertips as one of your hands tried to grab at whatever parts of his bleached buzz cut it could. the other busy cramping due to how hard you were grabbing at the duvet underneath you. both of your legs rested over his shoulders as his tongue politely abused your heat. you thought you felt something in his mouth when you two kissed earlier, but the adrenaline coursing through your body had dulled your senses. but, now he had you spread open on his bed, you could feel the small ball of metal greeting your clit as he sucked it into his mouth; the combination of the cold jewellery and the warmth of his tongue making your back lift off the bed. you were so close to your end, and that gap was finally closed when the little ball started vibrating. connie’s lower face was drenched, your wetness running down his chin and neck.
not a drop of it was wasted as he wiped it on his hand and licked it all off, his eyes glued to your face the entire time. having not fully come down from your high, connie’s next movements were a blur to you. all you remembered was him pulling something out of his draw, then your legs were in his arms, your thighs meeting his hips as connie fucked into you like he would get evicted from his house if he didn't. his trimmed fingernails were digging into the flesh surrounding your thighs and his eyebrows met to furrow in the middle of his face. he no longer cared about loyalties, not with how tight you were. he would do this now, and deal with the consequences later. because how could he let his best friend get in between him and the finest girl he'd ever met?
this man fucked you mercilessly, it was as if he had a point to prove. and he did—he wanted you to know that it's him you should've been with in the first place. he would’ve been so much better to you than his friend had been. and if you couldn’t see it, you’d feel it. the tip of his dick was damn near touching your lungs, knocking out any air you had stored in them. your eyes hadn’t focused since you entered those four walls, and connie’s were clouded by you. and that cloud finally rained down when you came around him,
“c-connieee—fuck—s-so good—fuckfuckfuck”, were your final words before your second nut of the night—arousal flooding the fabric underneath you, as well as connie's lower abdomen. seeing you coat him again, and wet the places that dried after the first one, made connie’s dick throb. but he wanted you to nut again before he got his own end.
so he picked you up, and laid you on your stomach, lifting your ass up, and giving it a quick slap. the sensitivity still resounding in all your limbs exacerbated the feeling of his palm, and long fingers, meeting your soft flesh. before he spaced your legs apart, his right one knelt between them, and his left propped up beside you. in seconds he was pounding into you again. your hands were grabbing at pillows, sheets, anything to find a small grip on reality. because this man was trying to fuck you into madness. his brain had stopped working the moment your lips attached to his, and its small whisper of reason evaporated and was replaced by his dick’s harsh clamours to fuck you until he couldn’t anymore.
clamours became careless whispers telling him to nut in you, and get you pregnant so you could be his forever. something he had joked about it in your facetimes, telling you,
”i have half a mind to make you the mother of my kids. then i could take care of you forever”, your view was of him cooking shirtless, with nothing but pyjama bottoms on. and you knew there was nothing under them because of the way they sat on his hips—his v-line fully exposed. but your response had been a laugh and an eyeroll,
“shut up, bro. i’m not trynna be anyone’s baby mum”, you scoffed.
”i never said baby mum. i said mother of my kids. there’s a difference”, he had reassured, earning another eyeroll from you. that conversation replayed over, and over, again in his head. and he tried to disperse those thoughts by maintaining a firm hold on your hips, pulling you onto him as he fucked you like his life depended on it.
he was hitting you with those slow strokes that hit the right spot every single time, and it had you whining and slapping the pillows above your head,
“don't tap out on me, ma, c’mon. stay wit’ me”, and you tried, but the pleasure he was making you feel was enough to drive a grown woman to insanity.
“i'm trying con-n, but it's—nnggh—too fucking good. fuck”, he revelled in knowing he was being this good to you, even if it meant dire things for his friendship. he had always wanted to see what this pussy was like, and now he knew, he'd be back again next week. same time, same place, the only changing being the positions he bends you into.
”lo sé, hermosa, lo sé”, he smirked onto your skin as he kissed it; his plump lips starting at your shoulders, making their way down the valley in the middle of your back. his hands would travel the width of your back, before one of them wrapped around your throat to pull you up to him—your back flush against his tatted chest. his body weight rested on his heels as he fucked up into you; one hand still gently squeezing your throat, and the other gripping onto your tit like it’d fall off if he let go of it. he didn’t know what he was saying anymore, all he needed was to make you his.
”quieres un hijo, ma?”, he voiced, and you blindly just nodded, until he spoke again, ”yeah, you do? want me to put a kid in ya?”, you didn’t know if he was playing or not, but you didn’t need the mess that would come with having a kid with your ex’s best-friend. even though you were trying to collect your thoughts, your surprise caused you to tighten around him. and that just made connie go even harder.
”n-no, connie, n-no. whattabout ony-y?”, you mewled out and he scoffed at you, his grip on your throat slightly harsher.
”the fuck he gonna say? huh?”, that last ’huh’ came out through gritted pearly whites, ”how’s he gonna claim you if you got my kid in ya? huh? he ain’t gonna do shit, ma, don’t stress”, he cooed before peppering small kisses all over you.
”b-but”, you wanted to tell this man that he’d lost his damn mind, but your eyes were too busy flickering into their sockets as more whines left your mouth.
”no buts, baby, i’ll take care of you”, his mouth left open-mouthed kisses all over your neck and, with the way he was making you feel, you just nodded in agreement.
the words, ”good girl”, were the golden keys that opened the flood gates, and you came around him. that nut took all the strength from your body, and you would’ve fallen onto the bed if he hadn’t been holding you up. even still, the merciless pace which he fucked up into you with, did not falter. and you came again, crooning his name in overstimulation.
”c-conniee, fff-fuck”, your voice cracked out. he just smirked at your cute demeanour and resumed kissing your shoulders. before his groans fell deeper, and his fingertips dug deeper into your skin. his arms held you still and he came inside you—his release stealing his strength, meaning he gently dropped you onto the bed, collapsing beside you after doing so.
”you didn’t nut in me.”, you spoke quietly, and you thought the duvet had muffled you but the low chuckles rumbling from behind you told you otherwise.
”i had a condom on. you ain’t see me take it out?”, he walked off the bed, ”or did you really think i was gonna put a baby in you?”, he smirked, taking the thin layer of latex off him. his face winced at the sensitivity.
”nah.”, you spoke sheepishly, shaking your head against the duvet. he got off the bed, and made his way to the side you were laying on. once he made it to you, he grabbed you by your chin—making you sit on your legs as your body wavered. then his tatted hand was on your jaw,
”’f you want that baby, just ask and i’ll give it to ya”, his voice was quiet and the corners of his lips rose, as his eyes remained on yours. and once he saw your head make a small nod, his smile grew even bigger.
”bet.”
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leclercstars · 3 months
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i’m craving something super angsty and max. like he and reader got into a fight and she left their apartment and got into an accident (someone hit her car while she was driving or someone ran into her while she was walking) and max doesn’t know that she’s been hurt for a few days until someone on the grid mentioned it to him and he grovels like his life depends on it to try and win her back. can end sad if you want
Woohoo another request fic!! This is a little different than what I usually write but I’m excited! Also I think I’ll turn it into a series. Anyways:
die for you
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Max Verstappen x Reader
Warnings: mention of car crash, some cursing.
“This cannot be fucking happening right now,” you were pacing around the kitchen of your and Max’s high-rise, your head buried in your hands as tears of frustration threatened to ruin your makeup. Thunder boomed and rain pounded on the windows.
Max had just gotten home from being out last night. It was 2 p.m.. The next day. You rarely felt this sort of anger towards him- but how could betray your trust like that? He swore up and down that he had accidentally fallen asleep at the after-party Charles had, but how could you be sure?
“Baby please you have to believe me,” his voice getting louder and louder as his frustration grew.
“I can’t! I can’t believe you! You slept at CHARLES? UNTIL TWO? It makes no sense especially since you usually don’t even drink that much.” tears were now spilling out of your eyes and your voice had taken on a tone you hadn’t even heard before.
“I’m sleeping at Isabelle’s tonight.” you said matter of factly.
Max sat on the couch, head in hands, too stunned to even move. What had he done? He knew why she was upset- and didn’t really expect her to believe his story. He hadn’t been answering her texts or calls last night either because his phone died- which certainly didn’t help the situation.
She left without so much as a goodbye. He might’ve just lost the best thing he ever had.
A week had passed now, without so much as a call or text from her. He had never felt so sick in his life, the heartbreak taking a toll on his physical health. Her stuff still lay scattered around the apartment- constant reminders of her presence that haunted him daily.
Max was hanging around the paddock the Thursday before the Monaco Grand Prix, chatting with all of his fellow drivers. He was sure that he was doing a poor job of hiding his down-trodden state.
“Did you hear about that massive wreck that happened the other day?” Daniel posed the question to the group. Everyone gave various sentiments of shock- talking about how the people involved were lucky to get out alive.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Max snapped.
“Dude, your girlfriend was literally involved. How do you not know? Did she not tell you? She’s going to make a full recovery reportedly.” Daniel replied back with genuine confusion.
He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The entire world started spinning- and he only saw Charles concerned face before his vision went completely black
PART 2???
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kombuuuu · 10 months
Note
Hello✋🏾! If I could request a Peter b parker x wife!reader where they have twins (including mayday) during the events of the movie?
No.1 Dad!
“Baby, Please. It’s a canon thing!”
“They’re toddlers!”
PeterBParker x Wife!Reader + little ones :]
light angst and a chase scene. ending is mostly comforting daddy parker
(it’s not sad i jus ❤️ this gif)
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(Benjy is a canon named Kid of Peter B Parker’s in the Comics!)
“Peter Benjamin Parker.”
“Oh shit.”
The father of two grimaced at the room full of spidey people. The voice of his wife sounding through the phone and into the echoing room.
“Tell me, why the fuck-“ Peter dragged a worried hand down his face. Miles snickering next to Hobie in the background. “—I woke up, to not only my *husband missing from my bed.” He sucked in a breath, glancing over at Miguel. Stood unimpressed with two spider-children climbing all over him and his platform. “But my two toddlers *lost from their damn cribs.” “Baby, I can explain.” He focused back on the phone, crowding over it like it would help conceal the conversation at all.
“You are in so much shit when you get home, young man.”
“I’m older than you by four years!”
“Watch your tone with me, Mister.”
He groaned, huffing and pouting into the phone while you continued to scold him before Miguel interrupted.
“Good morning, [name]. Hope you slept well.” His monotoned voice drawled out while picking the children off his clothes like bugs, and putting them back on Peter.
“Leave my wife alone.”
“Oh my god, please go somewhere private for this conversation.” Miguel rubbed between his eyes, his favourite thing to do apparently.
Your voice spoke back over him. “I don’t need privacy, I need my damn— Oh! Found it.”
“Baby, what are you—“ The connection cut off midway through his sentence, causing him to huff before realising; “Hey! That got me out of it!”
He straightened his posture, collecting his kids, Mayday and Benjy. And stuffing them into their baby carriers, carefully threading their limbs through each limb-window, as he called it.
A sparkle of warm tones caught his eye, circling from nothing into a fully developed portal.
“Oh, I should’ve known.”
“I seem to be making you say ‘Oh’ a lot.”
“You should’a heard you last night.”
“Peter!” He laughed as he watched you make your way over to him, giving Miguel a courteous nod and Miles a questioning glance. You looked so beautiful. An angel to him, the love of his life. He was so lucky to have you. And the little family you had created for yourselves. All the baby-stealing and stupid pictures aside, you were beyond enamoured with him as well.
“You’re lucky I still have this old thing, Parker. Or you wouldn’t have wanted to come home.
Despite the obvious threat, the only thing he could focus on was “come home”. A sentiment that was single to just your home, or just his home. But it was home. For a family, his family.
The admiration was broken when you pinched his nose. “Ow!”
“Shouldn’t have taken my kids.”
“Our kids!”
“Yeah whatever.”
You turned to Miguel, scanning the room and being very unsurprised at the amount of spider people here. If it was something important, Miguel loved a show. “What’s going on?”
“I’m… explaining something.”
“Uhuh.” you blinked at him slowly, unbelieving.
“Stop talking to my wife.” peter cut in.
“The fate of the multiverse is at stake, [name].-“ He threw his hands up, then gestures aggressively towards the kid next to Hobie.
“It’s his father, or an entire universe!”
“She’s not into you weirdo, back off.”
“Uhuh. And how old is the kid?”
He had the gall to look ashamed. Mayday babbled behind you. Giggling excitedly once she and Benjy had lost interest in whatever they were messing with on Peters suit. “Oh, come here baby.”
“How come I didn’t get that?”
Peter pouted over at you, rocking Benji gently, who was still half asleep.
You turned back around with your kid around your hip, addressing the kid near the centre of the room. “Hey uh—.”
“Miles!” He perked up, shyly waving at you.
“Oh, Miles! Peter talks so much about you.”
“No, I don’t.”
“He even named our dog after you!”
“No, I didn’t!”
“It’s so lovely to finally meet you.” You smiled at Miles whilst he smiled back, happy to know Peter thought of him as much as he did Peter.
“You too, Mrs.Parker!”
“Don’t listen to this lady, she’s crazy and a psychopath!”
Peter stepped into place beside you, shaking his one un-baby-occupied hand in the air wildly.
“She’s off her meds!”
“Peter.”
He grumbled and stuck his tongue out. Blowing a raspberry, which Mayday happily replicated. You put the tip of your finger on Maydays tongue, pushing it back into her mouth. “Don’t do that, germs.”
turning away from peter, you kissed her cheek in apology, whispering “It’s not you, it’s him.” In her tiny ear.
You propped your free hand on your hip, looking up at Miguel on his platform.
He looked away. Hand settling below his chin as he closed his eyes and sighed.
“There’s that contemplative expression again.”
“Why is he always contemplating, nothing’s that serious.”
“I dunno.” Peter shrugged. He crept up close to you, putting his arm around you waist and leaning down to smell your perfume.
“I like that one.”
You smiled, tilting your head back to look at him, “I know,”.
Miguel continued on with his explanation, showing miles the different Canon events. Showing him Peters, Gwen’s, yours. When Miles seems to suddenly realise something.
“The Spot does it.” His hands shake alongside his voice, Peter glances over to you in worry, but ultimately focuses back on Miles. “He kills ‘im.” The boys shoulders drop in defeat.
“When does it happen.”
Miguel looks away, shaking his head and wincing.
Miles turns to the small group surrounding him, helpless.
“When does it happen?!”
“In two days,” Miles whips back towards him. “When he’s sworn in.”
“That’s- what the model says.”
“I’ sorry Miles-“
“Send me home.”
“I can’t do that, not now.”
Gwen winces and squeezes her eyes shut. Body stuff and unmoving.
“What am I supposed to do then? Let him die?!”
Miguel pauses. And doesn’t relent.
Miles’s face contorts for a second before he turns, gesturing vaguely at Gwen.
“What about your dad? He’s a captain, right?”
She just sighs, “Yeah.”
“Wh- And that’s it! You guys aren’t even gonna do anything about it?!”
Gwen looks down, ashamed.
Mayday grabs hold of your finger. Noting the serious tones of the situation, she stays quiet. He scoffs and turns to Peter.
“Okay what about Uncle Ben? That’d been okay? If you knew and you just—,” he stuttered, “Let it play out?!”
Peter stepped forward, putting a reassuring hand on his students shoulder. “If not for uncle ben, most of us wouldn’t be here Miles.”
He pauses to look at the webbed window of his Ben.
“The good we did it-,” he breathes, “It wouldn’t have been done.”
You harden your gaze over your husband. He doesn’t look at you.
Miles nods, “So we’re just’ supposed to let people die because some algorithm—!” he hits Peters hand of his shoulder and starts towards Miguel again. “Woah, woah.” Lyla interjected. “—Says that that’s supposed to happen?!”
He swings his arms in annoyance, in *fear.
This is a *kid.
“You realise how messed up that sounds, right?”
With a better moral code than most in this room.
“You have a choice between saving one person—“ The slow approach of other spider people filled out the fog coating the room. “—And saving an entire world, every world!” Miguel points at him, hand on hip.
“I can do both!” He tries,
“Spiderman always-,”
“Not always.”
Miles looks to Peter, seeking back up. Peters face twists something sorry, and Miles’s flashes of hurt.
Benji starts to wake up, cooing softly at his dad.
Miguel’s hand gently turns the boy back around, this isn’t looking good.
You glance at Hobie, seeing the apprehension in his posture as he meets your gaze.
He glanced down at Mayday in question, you reassure him with a nod. If it comes to it, you’ll put her in peters baby carrier for safety. He nods back.
“Miles, we all want to lead the life we wish we had.” When Miles shrugs him off he raises his hands.
“Believe me, I’ve tried.”His hands slowly lowered. Miles’ breathing got heavier.
“And the harder I tried, the more damage I did.”
“You can’t have it all, kid.”
Miles looked around in panic, noticing the faces creeping up on him. He makes eye contact with you, and you try and signal your support.
If you run, I’ll run too.
“Being Spiderman is a sacrifice. That’s the job, that’s what you signed up for.”
A robotic voice caught your attention as a large suit approached the outer circle.
“Miles.” The faceplate opened.
“Penny?”
He put up his defences once more.
“What is this?” He yelled, the force of his words drawing an immediate attention. “Is this an intervention or something?”
“We know it’s hard, but it’s the truth, Miles.”
You glare at the faces around you, Adjusting Mayday on your hip and keeping an eye out for your two boys.
Miles and Benji.
Peter will be dealt with later.
Miles stumbles back, righting his foot and turning to Peter.
“Is that why you’re here? To—“
he clenched his fist, “To let me down easy?”
You watch your lover closely, the look on his face telling you all you need to know, and apparently same goes for Miles.
“It worked last time, why not run it back huh?” his voice was raising, Benji getting uncomfortable at the tone.
“Woah- hey, hold on. Hold on!” He raised his hand in a placating matter, trying to tune Miles down.
“You were right, Gwen.”
You glanced up at her, his venomed whisper doing its intended purpose, hurt.
“You should have never come to see me.”
Peter slowly approached Miles, bending down to his height like a person to a stray dog.
“Kid, look at me-“ “Stop callin’ me that.”
“There you go.” You sent Hobie a huff of appraise.
“Hobie, you’re not helping.”
“Good.”
Miles gratefully nodded at him.
“Miles, please understand-“ Peter tried.
“Peter.” Your stern voice interrupted him, and he shut down his attempt.
“You can’t ask me not to save my father.”
“I’m not asking.”
You glared at Miguel, only noticing the barrier a little too late. It opened under Miles, trapping him within when the inner circle started to protest.
“Miguel just give him a second! Please!”
“Dont! Stop it.”
“You let him leave, he’ll only do more damage.”
Gwen intervened, “Enough!”
You rushed towards the barrier with Mayday, her reaching for the barrier in confusion. You can’t help him out of this, you don’t know how.
“Miguel, let him out! He’s a kid.” You raised your voice. Weaponising your authority.
“Miguel this is too far.”
“[Name], it’ll only hold him few days.” He turned around to walk away.
Miles was panicking, banging on the barriers walls and spinning to try and find a weak point. His eyes caught onto Hobie. Doing nothing but holding his palms out, and giving him an earnest look. “Sorry it had to end like this, kid.”
“I said—“ Miles placed his hands flat on the barrier, right above his head. Palms out, You backed up shielding Mayday and dragging Peter to turn around and using him as a body block for Benji.
“—Not-“ The barriers begun to crack, shatter like glass.
“—To call me that!” A wave of energy pushed everyone down as the barrier broke, exploding in a mess of bright colours.
You heard Hobie chuckle, and looked up at Miles in amazement. A second where he caught your eye, he darted. Running straight for the exit.
“Miles!” Miguel screeched.
You stuffed Mayday in her carrier in record time and blew them a kiss as you pounced from your position to catch up with Miles.
Unbeknownst to you, Your husband, along with every other spider person, would follow. Except Hobie.
“Just for the record, I quit.”
You had found Miles being interrogated by your lover, him holding up your two children like bribing toys.
“C’mon- just hold ‘em!”
“I don’t want to do that.”
Miles manoeuvred slyly through all the cranks and pipes, your Spidey following swiftly behind him. “Just one hold! It’s rejuvenating!”
“I’m plenty juvenated!” Miles retorted.
You were going to interrupt when you lagged behind a bit, getting stuck on a moving pipe.
When you finally freed yourself, you stumbled into a cute moment between the two.
“I wanted them to be like you!”
He stared at your husband, vulnerable and scared, the beginnings of a smile creeping onto his face.
Mayday and Benji bickered with each other in his hold.
Peters watch suddenly lit up.
“Okay, Peter I’ve got your location.”
Their faces dropped, betrayal raw on the young boys.
“No, no. You do not have my location!”
Him peeling open the crate to the industrial fans, and slipping in. You using your webs to sling in after him and pull the crate shut behind you. Catching Peters fleeting glance before what seemed twenty different spider people broke through the crate, smashing through fans.
You followed miles swiftly, through the busses and over cartops. Using your webs to keep up with him. He wasn’t bad, for someone so young.
“I’m a great mentor!”
You huffed at Peters distant offended tone. “Sure, baby.” You muttered.
You hooked around a building, watching as Miles cut himself off from Gwen. Her hand reaching out for him as he fell. Your spidey senses caught your attentions, tingling in the forefront of your mind. You zeroed in on Miles and watched as he aimed for the train. It hadn’t looked like anyone else had caught on yet. Still scrambling to get to him, instead of trying to cut him off.
Miguel had the kid by the throat. Slamming him against the train doors and dragging his body up with him. You watched in fear as he spoke to the boy.
“You’re a mistake!”
You screamed at him from your position below, begging for him to just let the kid go. Miles caught you gaze. You fought against the wind, trying hard to get to him, and keeping an eye on Peter and your babies.
“If you hadn’t been bit-!” Miguel slammed his back again. You winced. “Your Peter Parker would have lived!”
Miles struggled against him, trying to push off the claws attacking him. “Instead he died- Saving you.”
“He would have stopped the collider before it went off. Spot wouldn’t exist-“ “Peter!” “-And none of this, would have happened.”
The three of you climbed to get to them. You grabbed Benji off peter, Cradling him in your arms as the winds were getting too rough.
Miguel slammed him back again, crowding over the small boy and growling his words.
“And all this time— I have been the only one holding all this together.”
“Miguel go easy on him!” Peter called down from his spot behind you, he sounded devastated, your heart broke for him. You knew how much he loved Miles, thinking of him almost like his first son. Your husband would bring him up so often, wondering what he was doing when he could see through the Spidey-Windows Miguel would (angrily) provide.
He always stressed when Miles had to figure out things himself, saying things like “Just give me a day with him, we’ll figure it out!” “He’s a kid Miguel. Wouldn’t you have wanted a mentor back then?” “I’m a great mentor.” “You just don’t see my brilliance.”
Benji babbled in your arms and you cooed back at him, spider beanie pulled snug over his face. Huh, he was pretty rejuvenating.
Miguel leaned closer, growling words of disgust to the kid.
“Let me go!” Miles struggled against him. A choked sound came from Peter, and when you looked back at him you swore you could see his eyes shine with unshed tears.
“Miguel that’s enough!” Gwen shouted.
“This isn’t what we talked about!”
Miles stopped struggling.
“You talked about this?” He looked down at Peter, heart breaking.
“You knew?”
Peter looked down, ashamed. Clinging onto the train but no longer climbing. Mayday held tightly to his chest with the other hand, he caught your eye.
“Peter what did you do..” Your breath escaped you and the words came out a whisper, flown away by the winds around you.
“You all knew?”
Your head shot up, starting to disagree before Gwen spoke.
“I.. I didn’t know..” She looked away, unable to face him.
“How to tell you.”
“That’s why you never came to see me.”
“Miles it’s for your own good!”
He pushed forwards.
“Who decides that?”
Miguel pushed back.
“I’m not a kid Gwen.”
Miguel grunted, slamming him again, the dent in the train deepening every time. “That’s exactly what you are! You’re just a kid!”
“Who has no idea what he’s doing!” Miles grabbed onto his shoulders, trying to squirm further from the beast on him.
His fingers sparked.
Miguel shoved his forearm against Miles’ neck, pushing his face against broken metal.
“Yeah well, I did get hundreds of Spider people away from your own club house.”
The roaring of spider people climbing the train travelled straight to Miguel’s ears.
“I guess he did plan this out!”
You smiled up at him. Seeing him smug back.
“And, I’m about to do this.”
He latched his sparking fingers onto Miguel’s shoulders. Clenching down and watching the starts of his electricity flow through the man’s arms.
The elder was the on struggling now, confused grunts paired with an effort to escape the boys hold.
“Everyone keeps tellin’ me how my story is s’posed to go.
Nah, Imma do my own thing.”
He pushed his whole hands against blue spiders chest.
“Sorry, but i’m going home.”
He pushed Miguel off of him right as he ignited the current buzzing underneath their veins. And watched as the Brunettes body ragdolled off of him and shot off the train and into the open sky.
The fanged man dragged his hand through waves of spider people, struggling to catch himself against smooth metal.
You looked back up at Miles, as he stood, connected by a single web to the speeding train.
“Goodbye, Gwen.”
He cut the thread and fell.
Gwen yelled for him, a call of his name. But peter? Peter just watched with his heart in his throat. His own betrayal heavy on his heart.
You were finally at home again. The stress of the day weighing high on the both of you. Even Mayday and Benji seemed to have noticed the tension.
Getting tired over all the moving and all the fighting, it was barely 7:30 before they were dead asleep.
“You think we’re bad parents?”
You were stood leaning over he crib, arms rested on its gates. Peter crowded over you, covering you in his smell and feeling. The weight on his body pressing against your back was akin to a weighted blanket, grounding you as you watched your sweet children breathe.
“Nah, Everyone has their first chase.”
“Well,..”
“Ehhh, want to see the cute photo I got of Benj and May?”
“Fuck, yeah.”
Your husband had been off the whole rest of the night. When you two had sat down together to watch the first mind numbing thing you could find, he couldn’t stop moving. Jittering with nerves.
You were waiting patiently for him to work the courage to say what he needed. Not ever preparing for something like this.
“Think Miles hates me?” It was said slyly. Like he was playing it off to be nothing, but the tension in his shoulder told you otherwise. “I think he’ll be hurt. And upset, but I don’t think he hates you.” He picked at his nails as you spoke, you curled your hands over the expanse of his chest and fit your ledge over his waist, he looked up at you through wet lashes.
“Are you sure cause-“ He cut himself off with a clear of his throat, not wanting to sob over something so *stupid in his head.
“Oh, baby. You’re so sweet, but he could never hate you.”
Peters hands stopped fiddling with themselves, smoothening down the curve of your ass and the small of your back.
“Okay,”
“Okay?”
“Yeah.”
He sounded relieved, if not a little suspicious.
He dug his face into the juncture between your neck and shoulder and inhaled deeply.
“Creep.”
He nipped at your skin lightly in retaliation.
“Miguel talks to you too much.”
“Every sentence we shared was negative.”
“He’s like that.”
You scoffed at him playfully and he smiled into your neck, turning his cheek to your skin and watching you. “I’ll make sure next time we talk, it’ll be in sign.”
“No, I don’t speak ASL, what if he says something about me?”
“He says something about you out loud, baby.”
“Yeah but I can’t hear it if he’s signing.”
Even later in the night, when you heard the shower running and soft sobs coming from the bathroom. You did nothing but undress and climb in with him. Rubbing your hands soothingly down his back, spreading soap along his chest and back and massaging it in deep for him.
You let him hold himself up against you, and pretended not to notice the difference between the shower water and his tears. You dragged him down to your height, a hand tucked into his soft hair before your lips met his. He would settle his hands on your hips, push you ever closer to him. And take the comfort you gave him in stride.
Eventually you would pay mine to your water bill, and would dry each other off carefully, get dressed together and settle in your shared bed. It was 1 AM now, but you couldn’t care less, being in the arms of your lover had outweighed any negatives lack of sleep could bestow. He would make it up to Miles. Solve the problems of the universe (multiverse), and have you two meet for real. Introducing Miles to his wife, and his son to his twins.
I WENT OFF THE RAILSSSS
probs making a part two later, for more peter daddy snippets and cute kids plus wifey reader
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1K notes · View notes
ghost-1-y · 4 months
Text
Sabotage
Trickster!Sanemi x Fem!Tricked Princess!Reader
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Content Warnings: MDNI, explicit sexual content, dubcon(?), unprotected sex, penetrative sex (f! receiving), oral sex (m! and f! receiving), fingering, handjob, Sanemi can clone himself, double penetration (therefore anal), HEAVY degradation, brat tamer!Sanemi x bratty!reader, Sanemi has an olfactophilia kink, masturbation (Sanemi), spanking as punishment, overstimulation as punishment, lots of dumbification, mentions of breeding/pregnancy, multiple creamp!es, Sanemi is mean in this, Sanemi points a knife to reader’s throat at some point (he doesn’t draw blood), mentions of food, mentions of dead animals, reader is a spoiled, bratty princess, brief mentions of homewrecking (not acted upon), mentions of a future arranged marriage, Sanemi plays “tricks” on reader, lmk if I missed anything!!
Word Count: ~15k
A/N: apologies for this taking literally forever for me to post, I went through a period of burnout and have been in classes these past two months. Also, apologies for this being so long, the plot got ahead of me and it ended up becoming my largest fic to date, but I do promise smut at the end (as you can probably tell by the content warnings lmao). Also please be nice I’m sorry if this fic is actually awful lol :')
Divider Credit: @/cafekitsune
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The sound of crystal heels against marbled stone were followed by head turns of maids and servants as you walked through the long corridor, bowing or curtseying as you passed, soft murmurs of your highness and my princess uttered in haste before returning to their duties.
Everything was as it should be: polished gold-framed paintings and chandeliers lit with gentle flames above, ornate silver door handles grasped by armored knights as entrances opened for you time and time again, strolling up rounded stairways and into the throne room – where your father, King Ubayashiki, and his wife, Lady Amane, sat.
The sun was orange through the glass panes that decorated the palace walls. Rainbows scattered across the palace floor, and fractals of light beamed at varying angles which made the golden thrones glimmer with radiance.
“My dear child,” your father smiled gently upon you, “I am glad to see you in good health.”
He was flanked by a line of his advisors on his left side, most of them old and feeble, except for one: a quiet ravenette with eyes which beheld endless pools of deep blue – Tomioka, you believed his name was. 
Tomioka was quite handsome, yet always expressed disinterest in the matters discussed at these sorts of meetings – today, he decided to forgo usual etiquette by holding his head up by one of his fists, eyes taking in the grandeur of the throne room rather than being focused on you – as the rest of the advisors were.
“Father,” you curtseyed – forcing your eyes to pry away from the young advisor, “I reciprocate your sentiment. I am glad to see you well.”
He chuckled, “Your words are much appreciated, but I’m afraid they are not true. I have come down with sickness, and our lovely doctor here–” he waved towards his left, referring to a rather beautiful woman with dark hair and violet eyes who sat further away from the line of advisors, “–Lady Kocho, is doing her absolute best to treat me, but, it has made me realize a few things, namely how very brief our lives are on this earth, and–”
“Father, with all due respect, what have you summoned me for?” you asked, impatience seeping into your tone.
The king sighed, “I need you to be married, my dear child.”
“What?” you exclaimed, “no– I don’t want to. You cannot and will not force me to do such a thing.”
Your father sighed, “that is why, my dear, that we are going to be holding a masquerade ball on the next full moon – which, I believe, is five days from now. We have also decided that, due to time and the uncertainty of my sickness, you will be wed on the very next day.”
“What the hell is a ball going to do? Do you believe I’ll just suddenly meet the love of my life while dancing with a masked stranger?”
“That is not the objective, my dear, I wish for you to get to know the princes from nearby nations, and I believe a masquerade ball is perfect to learn personalities without any bias. Whomever you get along with most, as well as whoever I believe will be most fit as a king, will be the one whom you marry.”
“Well, I wish you luck in making me attend, because I refuse to entertain this idea you’ve thought up. You haven’t even given me a reason as to why I should plan to be married.”
There was tension amongst the members of the advisory council, with even Tomioka paying closer attention to your rather loud grievances.
You could almost feel his azure eyes boring into your soul.
“My dear child, even though I am your father, you must remember that I am also your King, and you will do well to remember that,” he said quietly.
“So, what? Are you going to have me thrown into the dungeons if I don’t comply?” You crossed your arms as you glared down at him. “You can’t possibly be serious–”
“That is not what I wish for, my child, but you must be responsible to your kingdom and do what I ask of you. One day, I will no longer be here, and you will need to step up and take the throne once that happens. This is the first step towards that end.”
“I don’t care about being responsible to the kingdom! They must bow to me anyway, the reason for their subservience is none of my concern.”
If you weren’t consumed by your fit of rage, you might have noticed that to your right, for a fraction of a second, the hue of the handsome ravenette’s eyes turned from a deep blue to a stormy purple.
“My child, you must learn that people do not bow blindly to the throne. They bow out of respect for a leader that makes decisions which keep them in mind.”
“They should respect me regardless. I’m their princess. That should be enough for them.”
You did not wait for your father to continue his lecture, as you stormed out of the throne room and marched back toward your chambers.
Upon entering your bedroom, a fireplace had already been lit – its crackling flames providing just enough heat for one’s slumber during a mid-winter night.
You sat down on the edge of your rather large bed – a mattress as soft as clouds, and sheets of the finest silk which was woven with royalty in mind. You kicked off your heels, scattering them halfway across your cozy living space – not caring to put them away properly – the help was there for such chores, anyway.
Your lady-in-waiting – you believed her name was Kanroji – knocked upon the carefully carved wooden doors of your chambers, before entering upon your command. She gave you a soft smile and curtseyed before you.
“It’s a wonderful evening, my princess, I hope today treated you well,” she greeted, and you gave out a loud sigh before flopping onto the mattress, a pout visible on your face as Kanroji picked up your discarded heels from the floor and placed them in their proper spot. 
“Kanroji–” you elongated the last vowel of her name, “today was awful. Can you believe my dad possessed the gall to summon me today? And for what– to discuss marriage?” you groaned, “If I could, I would’ve wiped that everlasting smile off of his face for making me go through all of this!”
“My princess, that is no way to speak about your father, much less your king,” Kanroji lightly scolded you, causing you to roll your eyes. “I’m sure his reasons are sound. I understand if you find the idea rather, well, uprooting I should say, but–”
“–But nothing!” you exclaimed, exasperation evident in your tone. “I don’t want to be responsible for the people, especially if it’s at the expense of my own losses!”
“Princess, with all due respect, they are your people,” Kanroji reminded you, “being a princess doesn’t exempt you from responsibilities.”
Rolling your eyes once more, you grumbled out a “whatever,” and sat up on your bed to face your lady-in-waiting.
“I’m sure that it was at least nice to speak with your father, no? Considering how busy he is and all?” Kanroji asked with a smile.
“Not really,” you groaned, “but I did get to see that one cute advisor he has, so I guess it wasn’t all bad.”
“Are you referring to Lord Tomioka, my princess?”
“Who else? The rest of them are old as shit– you think I’d fall for Urokodaki? Or – god forbid – Kuwajima?”
“A princess must not use such foul language, your highness,” Kanroji chided, “although I must say that I never expected you to fall for those…older men.”
You sighed in annoyance, “technically, I can do whatever I want, Lady Kanroji.”
“Unfortunately, Lord Tomioka is already married to the royal doctor, Lady Kocho,” Kanroji ignored the tone of your voice, “perhaps it would be wise to listen to King Ubayashiki’s words and look for a potential suitor at the next royal ball?”
“I doubt he has that much love for her,” you muttered, “perhaps I could pull Lord Tomioka aside during the festivities and–”
“Your highness, with all due respect, you will do no such thing,” Kanroji admonished you.
“But I’m the princess, Lady Kanroji, surely he’d see that as an opportunity for upward mobility, no?”
Kanroji sighed, deciding not to push the topic further. She motioned for you to stand up so she could undress you. You turned your back to her as she started untying the strands of your outer bodice, before removing it and working on the following layers to place them into a soiled linen basket.
“My princess will wash her face before heading to bed, we don’t want any bad air to ruin your perfect skin,” Kanroji urged as she helped you into your night slip.
“You don’t need to treat me like I’m five, Lady Kanroji. I know how to take care of myself.”
Kanroji schooled her expression from that of a tight-lipped smile to one with gentle radiance.
“Of course, your highness.”
You headed to your bathroom, but, rather than washing your face by yourself, you merely sat down on a cushioned chair beside the door. Kanroji followed, obtaining a washcloth made of the softest cotton and dipping it in water which she had warmed prior to your arrival. She dabbed at your face, removing any excess dirt or sweat which built up throughout the day, before lathering some soap into the cloth and gently applying it to your face, before rinsing it away with more water.
After she patted your face dry with another towel, she handed you your toothbrush and paste, and, after you had finished, provided you with water and a spit cup so you could rinse out your mouth. 
“My princess seems to be all ready for bed now, let’s get you cozied up for the night.”
She led you back to your bedroom, and you buried yourself in warm blankets, choosing not to respond as she blew out one final candle and bid you a good night.
The following day, upon your wake, the birds outside of your window were surprisingly quiet. You’d quite often awake to the chirps of songbirds and hoots of mourning doves, which would rise you out of your restful sleep. 
You stood up from your bed, and walked over to your wardrobe, excited to see if the maids had fully cycled your favorite dress through the laundry – one which had been inspired by your own confidence, merely amplifying everything desirable about your figure. It exemplified your wealth, your status; it brought you up into the clouds of materialism as others looked up at you in pure awe.
However, upon opening your wardrobe, you were shocked to find yourself looking at the wooden backing of the closet rather than your endless amounts of clothing that usually hung from the racks – something that you had not laid eyes upon ever since you first received the piece of furniture.
“Kanroji!” you yelled for your assistant, who, despite being summoned, still had the courtesy to knock upon your door before entering.
“Is something wrong, my princess?” she asked delicately as always, yet her honeyed lips did nothing to calm you down.
“You did this, didn’t you?” you accused her as you waved your hands haphazardly towards the empty wardrobe, “why do I not have any clothing to wear?”
Kanroji looked at you in pure confusion, before walking over and gazing upon what you were talking about. She sighed, “I didn’t do this, your highness, perhaps one of the maids went to wash all of your clothing and forgot to return it?”
“Why would they think to wash clothing which hasn’t been worn!?” you argued, “what should I do, then, if I don’t have anything to wear?”
Kanroji pondered for a moment, before seemingly coming to a solution.
“Well, my princess, if you would be so kind to take into consideration this idea I have, I may have a solution–”
“Just spit it out!”
Kanroji sighed, trying not to be taken aback by your rude behavior, “I believe we have extra clothing which is usually reserved for the royal staff. I could go fetch one for you if–”
“So I am to wear a servant’s clothes? To dress myself as a peasant?”
“No, my princess, the royal staff uniforms are hardly clothing meant for a commoner, they are still made of fine quality fabric and are sewn by the best seamstresses in the kingdom.”
You rolled your eyes, “fine, but only because there’s no other choice. Bring me the peasants’ clothing.”
Kanroji turned on her heel and left your room to fetch the uniform, leaving you to walk around your room in silence. After pacing around for a few minutes, you went up to your window, where a songbird had made its nest and laid its eggs.
You had asked time and time again for the staff to remove the nest, as it was partially obstructing the view of your garden, yet they hadn’t gotten around to it, it seemed.
However, today, the nest was completely empty – not a bird nor egg in sight.
“Princess, I’ve gathered a uniform set in your size,” Kanroji said behind you, prompting you to turn your head.
“Give it here.”
She handed you the folded clothing, and you held it out in front of you, inspecting it with expressive disgust.
“How am I supposed to put this on? It’s too frilly and complicated.”
“Allow me, your highness,” Kanroji muttered, before taking the uniform and having you step into it, buttoning it up and smoothing out the skirt.
“You look beautiful as always, my princess,” she smiled at you.
“I’d hardly say that,” you grumbled, “take me to my gardens, won’t you? I need some fresh air after this whole–” you waved your hands trying to find the right word, “–mess.”
Kanroji nodded, “of course, your highness.”
She led you through the winding corridors of the castle, and, as much as you preferred being the one leading, today you were almost hiding yourself behind your assistant – not wishing for anyone to look down upon you for the clothing you wore.
Yet, after a while, you realized that no one spared a second glance toward you. Not a single maid, nor servant, bothered to bow or greet you as you walked by. Easily offended by their lack of etiquette, you caught up with your lady-in-waiting, Kanroji, and whispered harshly into her ear.
“Why are they not greeting me? Usually they bow upon seeing or hearing me walk by. I have never seen such insubordination in my entire life–”
“My princess, it may be due to your clothing. You are wearing quite an unusual outfit for a royal today, and they are quite busy with setting up the decorations and such for the ball. I plead with you to be patient with them, your highness.”
You huffed, but remained silent after hearing her reasoning, your shoulders hunched in annoyance as Kanroji led you outside.
Your garden was one of the more peaceful areas of the palace. It was strategically placed so that you could view it from your bedroom window, a hectare of greenery reserved just for yourself. It caught the rays of sun through the early morning to late evening, with a rather beautiful fountain built in the very center of it made of marble, sculpted with three tiers that had water flow down into a rounded reservoir. The reservoir itself had sculptures sitting on the edges of the fountain – with one of the notable figures being that of Icarus.
Along the border of the garden, white and purple hydrangeas bloomed in the late morning sun, which gave way to various other floral species. It was all proper and organized, each plant having a designated area for it to flourish in. Walking further into the garden, you held out your hand to trace your fingers along the petals of buttercups, a flower which had always been one of your favorites – its delicate appearance attracting you to it. 
You approached a small gazebo that found its place on the edge of the garden, a shaded area for you to use should you grow tired. Taking a seat, you exhaled slowly, recollecting yourself from the earlier mishap that was out of your control, almost entering a sort of meditative state. Your thoughts, however, wandered, and eventually led you to your fathers words of having you become married.
“Lady Kanroji?” you asked, and she smiled kindly at you – just as she always did. It was a rather comforting sight, to have someone so close that didn’t seem bothered by anything in the entire world.
“Yes, my princess?”
“Do you ever feel like…your life is out of your hands? Like you’re starting to lose control?” you asked, voice slightly uneasy as you turned your head away from her, deciding to rather admire flowers which neighbored the bench you sat on.
A bumblebee flew past you, its fat little body buzzing between flowers, working hard to pollinate each one.
“Well, yes, everyone does– but, what is making you feel this way, your highness?”
“I mean, look at this bee here– it probably thinks about nothing but how it needs to pollinate flowers and collect nectar for its hive – wherever that may be, right?”
“Of course, princess,”
The bee landed on a lone calendula, burying itself in pollen, before taking a quick moment to rest before flying off to another part of the garden.
“I wish my life was more like this bee. I wouldn’t have to worry about anything except the task in front of me.”
“Princess, is this about the clothes in your wardrobe being missing this morning?” Kanroji inquired.
You shook your head, “no, I’ve accepted that as a small mishap. I’m more worried about how my freedom might be taken away from me, with being married soon and all, especially to someone that I—”
“—that you know nothing about?” Kanroji finished for you.
You nodded, before eyeing a blooming foxglove plant, approaching it and plucking a single flower from its stem, twirling it in your hand as you admired its range of colors. 
“I just wish that, at least, my last few days of freedom before this ball will be alright.”
Kanroji tentatively, ever so diligently following your every step, took your hand in hers, “I am wishing only the best for you, my princess. I promise that your husband will be as kind and as loving as can be.”
You smiled at her, still holding the foxglove in your hands, “thank you, Lady Kanroji.”
“–and if he’s not, then I promise to make his life a living hell,” she grinned, causing a hearty laugh to emerge from your chest.
“That hopefully won’t be necessary, but I thank you nonetheless.”
You looked down towards the ground, noticing that an invasive species of yellow tansy has taken root in the soil all throughout the garden.
Groaning, you looked up towards Kanroji once more, “do we not have a gardener to get rid of these weeds?” you asked exasperatedly, and she chuckled.
“Your highness, with all due respect, didn’t you fire them last week because they pruned your rose bush in a way that wasn’t to your liking?”
Sighing, you responded, “you’re right, we’ll need a new one soon, perhaps one of the servants would care for a promotion?”
“We’ll see about that, my princess. As for now, though, how about we get you washed up from being outside, and then after I’m sure we can have the royal chef make you one of your favorite meals for dinner later? As a little treat for all the anguish from today, perhaps?”
You smiled, “that sounds wonderful.”
You sat in the great hall of the castle, sampling hors d'oeuvres and sipping on champagne, chatting idly with your assistant at your own private table, watching waiters and waitresses move about through all the different tables, serving appetizers and samples of foods to both guests and royals alike.
Music played in the background from an entourage of pianists and violinists, who were playing some piece from Beethoven that you couldn’t recall the name of.
Feeling refreshed, you called over the waiter for yet another glass of champagne, motioning him to fill up Kanroji’s glass as well.
“Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly–” Kanroji protested, to which you waved your hand in front of her.
“C’mon,” you grinned, “you work so hard. Just one glass? Please?”
She huffed in feigned annoyance, but relented as she let the waiter fill up her glass with the bubbly drink. 
“You seem much happier now that the maids found one of your spare dresses in the dried laundry, don’t you?” Kanroji grinned.
You nodded, “I feel more beautiful this way. I really disliked that maid uniform. I felt so…inferior.”
“Clothing does not make a princess, you know,” she reminded you simply as you took another bite of food, and Kanroji grimaced as you opened your filled mouth to talk.
“I know. ‘M a princess regardless o’ wha’ ‘m wearin’,” you mumbled before swallowing, “you don’t need to remind me.”
Kanroji sighed as you so easily missed the point she was trying to make, watching as you waved for the waiter to come by, ready to order your meal. 
“What should I have prepared for you this flashy evening, your highness?” he asked.
The man before you was tall and muscular, with white hair that fell down his shoulders and crimson eyes that reminded you of rubies. He took out a notepad to write down your orders when you realized his left hand proudly displayed three golden bands which were embedded with diamonds, each one on a separate finger. 
You could hardly believe he was just a mere waiter for the castle.
With his looks, you believed he could be doing much better.
“Would it be so bad if I said ‘you’?” you smiled lazily at him, causing him to chuckle at your statement.
“Unfortunately, my princess, I am a happily married man,” he said, pointing to the three rings, “although I wouldn’t be opposed to adding a fourth wife to the family.”
Your nose crinkled in disgust – not because he had multiple wives, no – but because you disliked the idea of having to share him with others.
What belonged to the princess should belong to her alone.
“I’ll pass,” you forced out, “I would, however, like to request the foie gras for my meal tonight, if you could you put that in for me — and, perhaps, a side of toasted baguette with caviar spread will do.” 
“Ah, my princess, as much as we are happy to make anything you desire, I must regretfully inform you that we do not have any foie gras for tonight.”
Your blood pressure started to rise. Putting on a fake smile, which was more akin to that of a grimace, you asked, “and what may be the reason for the kitchen being unprepared to take my order?”
“Your highness, I promise that it is not the kitchen’s fault. A strange occurrence, and a most un-flashy one, really – our local farmers have reported that every single one of their animals have escaped, and what’s more- they can’t be found anywhere within the borders of the kingdom.”
You thought back to the morning, when you made note of the usual songbirds outside of your window being absent.
“Do you not have any duck meat preserved?” you asked.
“No, your highness. We hunt the very same day that we prepare the meals so that they’re fresh. Which is why–”
“Which is why you’re supposedly unable to adhere to my request. I heard you the first time. No need to repeat yourself,” you huffed. “If you don’t have any meat, then what do you have?”
Just as the waiter was about to open his mouth, you held up your hand to stop him, “Never mind. Just get me a salad. Now leave us,” you glared at him, disdain heavy in your tone.
“Of course, princess.”
You rolled your eyes as he sauntered away, and Kanroji stared at you with a slight frown on her face.
“What is it?” you asked, taking her hand and holding it.
Kanroji tensed, but allowed her hand to stay rested on yours.
“It’s nothing, I promise,” she started, “I hope that you can be more patient with them, though, they are doing their best to serve you.”
You sighed, “whatever.”
You looked down at her hand, at which point a frown crossed your face.
“Lady Kanroji, since when did you have such an awful scar?”
Looking back up at her, she seemed slightly alarmed, taking her hand away from yours.
“What are you talking about, princess?” She looked down at her own hand, inspecting it as though she didn’t realize she had such a blemish.
“That scar– I don’t know why I only just noticed it, but–” you paused as she showed you her hand once more.
Her hand was flawless.
“You may have had too much to drink, princess, should I escort you back to your room?”
You looked at your assistant in utter confusion, “but–”
“I highly doubt it was anything more than a trick of the light,” she smiled reassuringly. “Let’s get you to your chambers now, alright princess?”
You awoke to the pounding of fists against your door, jolting up from your bed.
“Princess! Please open the door!” one of the royal guards shouted from outside your chambers.
Groggily, you walked up and opened it, to find the guard in what seemed to be a slightly confused panic.
“What’s going on?”
“You’ll have to come down to the royal gardens with me, princess, there’s something that was…er– left for you.”
In a huff, you followed his instructions, the guard following closely behind you, winding through corridors and staircases until you reached the outside, where a small crowd consisting mostly of royal staff could be seen huddling around something, exchanging whispers and gasps that were unintelligible.
“What in the hell did you raise me out of my bed for that needed my immediate attention?” you yelled back at the guard, who was only a few paces behind you, “forcing me to go outside while looking this indecent better have a good explanation.”
You pushed your way through the crowd, only to stop short as you gazed at what was before you: a dead cow, one that seemed to be entirely gutted, with its entrails scattered about around its body. 
The same guard walked up to you, tapping you on the shoulder before handing you a scroll, “this was laid beside the mauled animal,” he explained.
You unraveled it, only to read something that made you feel rather faint.
Here’s that meat you missed so dearly last night, princess.
You could almost laugh, if it weren’t for how absolutely no one could’ve heard about this conversation besides Lady Kanroji and the waiter himself.
Perhaps he notified the chef and one of the kitchen staff got upset? But that wouldn’t explain how they got the cow in the first place if all the animals are all–
“Princess?”
You looked up at the guard, who’s purple eyes seemed to be glimmering in the light of the morning sun.
“What is it?”
The guard frowned – at what, you couldn’t possibly tell – before he shook his head and walked back toward the castle.
Just as you were about to question him, Lady Kanroji came running out from the palace doors and stopped before you.
“Oh, my princess! I’m so glad you’re alright!” she wailed, seemingly disturbed by the events of this morning.
“I’m fine, but I’ll need each and every one of the kitchen staff that was working last night to be interrogated.” 
Kanroji seemed confused, but nodded, deciding not to question your reasoning.
“In the meantime, your highness, would you like to visit your garden again? I know that it tends to calm you down quite a bit and right now you seem quite…frazzled.”
“Lady Kanroji, how quickly do flowers usually grow?”
“Your highness, at this point, I have no idea.”
She looked just as confused as you were – gazing upon your garden, which looked entirely different from what it looked like yesterday. Rather than hydrangeas and the occasional foxglove bush blooming, the entire garden had been infested with snapdragons.
“I was here just yesterday, was I not?” you asked rhetorically, and Kanroji nodded in affirmation.
“Yes, you were, my princess.”
You sighed, “I don’t understand – all I wanted was a few peaceful days before I am forced into an arranged marriage. Am I not allowed something as simple as that?”
“Many are not afforded things that may seem simple to others, my princess, perhaps this is how the universe so ordained these few days to unfold.”
“That doesn’t make me feel better about my circumstances, though.”
“Perhaps not, but we can always do our best to make the most of what we are dealt, even if the hand we are given is not the best.”
You listened to her as you looked around the garden, seeing how endless the lines of snapdragon flowers seemed to be, and, in a moment of firm resolve, you lifted up the bottom of your slip before setting your feet bare into the soil.
“What are you doing, your highness? You will dirty your clothing if you–”
“I’m making the most of the hand I’ve been dealt, Lady Kanroji,” you explained, before beginning to weed out the unwanted snapdragon flowers from their roots.
Kanroji smiled, before following suit and helping you in your task, ridding the garden of unwanted plants to restore it to its former glory.
It felt like hours since you first arrived to your garden, your night slip entirely dirtied, and your hands caked with soil. The sun beat down on both of you, causing sweat to drip down your face as you smeared it away with your dirtied hands.
A crow flew down and landed in the garden next to you, poking its beak at the bundle of snapdragons that you’d picked out of the soil, you waved at it in order to shoo it away – but to no avail.
“I thought that there were no fauna left in the kingdom,” you mused, and Kanroji giggled softly.
“Apparently this little one didn’t quite catch the memo,” she smiled, causing you to chuckle.
However, another crow flew down a few minutes later, and then another – until there was nearly a flock of crows that surrounded each of you. 
“Lady Kanroji–?” you asked, concern lacing your tone as you looked around, with what seemed to be every single crow staring directly at you, as though you were nothing but prey to them.
It started off with one crow – which flew toward you and started picking at your night slip with its beak. You tried shooing it off, but doing so only invited another crow, and another, and another to do the same.
“Stop! What– stop!” you screamed as the crows continued tearing at your slip, leaving holes and cuts all throughout the thin cloth. You knelt to the ground, curling yourself into a tight ball as the crows hovered closely above you.
Until finally, the torment ceased.
Standing up, you looked around to see them flying away, before looking back at your assistant who seemed absolutely horrified by what just occurred. 
“Your highness–”
“Don’t. Say. A word,” you seethed, tears starting to brim your eyes before you rushed back to your chambers, Kanroji following closely behind you.
Sanemi’s POV
A yell of frustration could be heard from your chambers, causing a silent snicker to pass through his lips. 
He couldn’t help that he loved messing with you: you were the perfect prey for someone like him. Someone in a place of authority who needed to be knocked down a few pegs; a bratty princess who wanted everything to go her way – regardless of if it hurt those around her or not. 
Not only that, but the noises you made were music to his ears – how you’d groan and grumble and scream – all because of him. 
He was the one who was causing you all this grief.
And he loved it.
Unfortunately, it seemed that missing clothes and cooking ingredients were just not enough to make you absolutely lose your sense of control. 
“Kanroji!” you yelled from your chambers, causing his ears to perk up. You always had your poor assistant help you out, he realized, it was only ever a matter of time before her name could be heard from your lips. 
It pissed him off, really, that assistant of yours – she would always be there to step in and help you, no matter how terrible your behavior was. 
However, it seemed today that your assistant was nowhere to be found, and so he had the privilege of reveling in your annoyed grumbles for that much longer.
After what seemed to be about half of an hour, your chamber doors finally opened.
He decided that your expression must’ve been priceless, so he took the shape of a female guard and walked down towards your chamber doors.
However, he couldn’t stop his mouth from falling agape upon seeing you.
Your dress – which he intentionally shrunk down a size, caused your tits to spill out from the top of it. Not only that, but your skirt only went down to your mid-thigh, and he could only imagine what a sight it would be if you bent over to pick something up. 
He was frozen – he hated you, hated authority. He despised how you thought that you were simply better than everyone else – that it was somehow your birthright to be above everyone else.
So, why was he awestruck by the sudden beauty that was before him?
You turned your head to him – or, the female guard that he was disguised as – and gave him a nasty glare.
“The hell are you looking at?” you asked.
If there were a higher power, Sanemi would’ve thanked them a hundred times over for the fact that his shapeshifting ability could hide the hardening bulge in his pants.
After a moment, he managed to find his voice – and thankfully he remembered to make it fit the character he was playing as.
“Apologies, princess, did you need help with anything?”
You rolled your eyes and scoffed before marching away from him, and he couldn’t help but smirk as your figure turned down another long corridor.
Out of all the people he’s fucked with, you were definitely his favorite.
“Shit, princess, got me so fuckin’ worked up over nothing, didn’t ya?” Sanemi muttered under his breath as he fisted his stiff cock, not even bothering to start slowly as he fucked his hand with each unrelenting stroke.
The precum seeped out from his tip, allowing his hand to glide even faster along his thick length; he was harsh with it, the muscles in his forearm nearly burning at the pace of his movements. 
Sanemi snuck into your room after you left – having now memorized your daily schedule, he didn’t need to worry about you catching him in the act. It would be at least an hour before you returned to your chambers, giving him plenty of time to cum before then.
He laid upon your bed – the mattress softer than anything he ever had the luxury of experiencing before – as he stroked himself to the thought of ruining you.
He wondered if the plush of your skin would be even softer.
Gods, how he would love to trace his roughened hands along your delicate body, squeezing your tits, groping your ass.
You could stand to have a bit of punishment too, he thought before envisioning how he’d have you on your hands and knees, smacking your ass until it was red and sore.
Or maybe humiliation would be better?
He groaned as he thrust up into his hand as he thought of all the ways he could ruin your status, humiliating you in front of hundreds – no, thousands – of your subjects.
Maybe he could take it a step further than he usually would this time – oh, how he’d love to ruin you until you were nothing more than a needy slut for his cock.
“Fuck–” he grunted, before turning his head to the side, where he eyed a pair of your discarded panties in the corner of your room.
“Fuckin’ brat never learns to clean up after herself,” he muttered, climbing out of your bed to go pick them up.
Lucky me, he thought, bringing your panties up to his nose and inhaling deeply, his knees nearly buckling.
Somehow, the head of his cock turned an even angrier shade of red after breathing in your scent, with his length getting so stiff that it almost hurt.
“Fuck– princess,” he groaned, “smell so fuckin’ good,” he added, walking back to your bed before inhaling more of your musk, hips bucking involuntarily into his hand – his cock getting impossibly harder as he fucked himself to the thought of you. 
“Gonna make me fuckin’ cum like this, you fuckin’ brat.” 
His abdomen tensed as his seed shot out from his reddened tip, spilling it all over his hand and lower stomach. He hissed as he continued to stroke himself through his orgasm before pulling his hand back and letting it fall against the mattress, panting heavily.
“Are you sure you don’t have any spare clothes that fit, my princess?”
Sanemi’s eyes shot open, hearing your assistant’s voice from outside the door.
“Yes, I checked every single one and they’re all too tight! I’ve had difficulty breathing all morning because of this stupid outfit!”
You shouldn’t be back yet, he thought, but then again he did disrupt your morning for the third time this week – perhaps he shouldn’t be surprised.
He shot up from your bed, quickly stripping it as well as gathering any dirty clothing you had lying around before transforming himself into a maid.
The door opened, and Sanemi had to hold back a grin when he saw how frustrated you were, his cock starting to harden once more upon seeing your face contorted into a pout.
“Why are you here?” you asked him, before your assistant put a gentle hand on your shoulder.
“Leave her be, my princess, she’s just doing her job.”
Sanemi nodded to her and took the linen that he had gathered out of your chambers, leaving you and your assistant alone for the time being.
By the time he was out of sight, he snapped his fingers – causing the linen to disappear completely.
It’s not like you’d care about missing some bedsheets for a while, right?
Y/N’s POV
You awoke the next day to the smell of smoke.
You weren’t able to sleep much anyway — namely due to being limited to a simple blanket as you laid on your bare mattress — all because the maid who took your sheets didn’t bother to communicate with anyone else that your bed would need to be made before you retired for the night.
After dipping in and out of sleep, tossing and turning in your freezing room, the sun had finally started to rise, and, although you usually never awoke before it was at least halfway up in the sky, today your sense of grogginess was replaced by complete alarm.
Was the castle burning?
You ran to the doors of your chamber, your already too-tight night slip nearly causing you to trip as you reached for its handle.
Cold.
You slowly opened the door, and the absence of flames relieved you.
Only thinking of yourself, you carefully made your way down staircases and through corridors – the smoke only becoming more intense the further down you went.
Perhaps a kitchen fire?
Yet, as you found your way to the castle entrance, you started to realize that the smoke had been coming from outside rather than in the castle.
Careful to not show your face through any windows – in order to protect yourself from being targeted by any potential enemies or rioters outside – you listened for voices and yelling to determine if the castle was under siege.
But, other than the distant crackling of flames, the night was silent.
Exhaling your fear, you gained enough courage to peek through one of the windows. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, you thought to go outside so you could locate the source of the smoke.
The castle door creaked open, and a plume of smoke entered through the doorway, resulting in a series of coughs which erupted from your throat. The grass you were on was dry as you walked further, the blades poking at the soles of your feet with each step.
You saw the orange glow of the flames in the distance, and, by the time you got close enough to see what was burning, your blood ran cold.
Your garden.
The entire area had been engulfed in flames – the plants reduced to cinders and ash. 
Tears ran down your cheeks as you watched the only place you felt true peace burn to the ground, the fire growing in size until reaching a crescendo of roaring crackles as it burned every remaining piece of your soul, unrelenting until the fire decided to quell itself, returning the borrowed flames to the sun as it rose above the horizon.
Until what remained was nothing but char and dirt.
You sat there for what felt like hours, sitting silently as your eyes reddened – from the smoke or from crying, one wouldn’t be able to tell.
“Your highness…” you heard a soft voice behind you, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to turn around.
The gentle, reassuring hand of your lady-in-waiting laid upon your shoulder once more – just as it had many times this past week. It was her way of consoling you, no matter how horrible things were.
“I’m so sorry,” was all she could offer, squeezing your shoulder as you gazed upon your garden – or what was left of it – in silence.
“Thank you, Mitsuri – but this isn’t your fault.”
Your friend sat down beside you, rubbing your back as you two watched the remaining embers flicker in and out of existence.
Until there was nothing else left for you to have.
Sanemi’s POV
Sanemi was smug – surely a fire would get your attention, would it not?
It was his last resort, but you had just been so awfully bratty and hostile to those around you.
He couldn’t just stand by the sidelines and let that happen, right?
The afternoon was eerily quiet, he hadn’t heard you yell for your assistant once today. Once you got back from your silly little playground, you locked yourself up in your room, not opening up for anyone.
So, that evening, he took on the form of that one maid again, and stole a skeleton key from one of the royal staff.
“Princess? May I come in?” He knocked on your door, and, after hearing no response, decided to unlock it, knocking once more as he entered.
You were sitting on your bed, staring into nothing, your hands lay silent in your lap.
“Princess?”
“What do you want?” you nearly whispered, as though the room around you might shatter into pieces should you speak any louder.
“Er–” Sanemi quickly skimmed through your daily schedule – something he had memorized every detail of – in order to come up with some excuse for interrupting your time alone.
However, he did not have time to answer, as you stood up and held your arms out from your sides – your expression flat and emotionless as your eyes remained fixed on the ground before you.
“Apologies, that was a stupid question,” you continued, your tone almost dejected before looking up at the maid before you, “It’s time for my bath, isn’t that right?” 
“Yes– yes, princess, of course,” Sanemi stuttered.
You simply stared, before speaking up, “well? Are you going to undress me or not?”
Sanemi’s ears flushed a bright red, but did indeed walk behind you – not wishing to reveal himself as an imposter by acting strange – and started to lift up your night slip, the very one you hadn’t changed out of since last night.
You smelled of burning ash, which wasn’t much of a surprise to him – but he didn’t expect you to withstand the smoke for so long, just to stare at the flames that he created.
He removed your night slip, using all of his willpower to not stare down at you while you were indecent.
“Take me to my bath, please,” you requested silently, and, to much of his surprise, he obeyed without a second thought.
He took your hand, leading you to your bathroom, where he simultaneously filled up your tub with warm water with the slight wave of his hand – as though it had been prepared for you all along, as though he knew this would be what he was getting into as he entered your room – your home.
You sat down in the clear water, ash ebbing off of you in ripples as water gently sloshed around you. He reached for a nearby cloth, and lathered it in soap, before rubbing it up and down your back, bubbles forming with each swipe of the cloth. 
You remained oddly silent, letting him wash you as he pleased – of course, you didn’t know it was him. 
He doubted you’d let him be within ten feet of you if he wasn’t acting as someone else.
Yet, when he went to clean your shoulders, he placed his false, dainty hand upon your shoulder, and you sniffled.
You were crying.
“Princess?” he asked cautiously.
You brought your hands up to your face, hiding yourself from the maid that washed you.
“What is happening to me?” you sobbed silently, breaths shaky as you inhaled, “My last few days have been horrible, and today was just— my garden is gone.”
Normally, Sanemi would feel a spark of pride upon hearing that he got under his victim’s skin, but now, he felt nothing but pure guilt.
Had he gone too far?
“Perhaps I’ve been cursed,” you whispered, “all I wanted was to live my last few days before I'm married in peace. I’m to be wed to someone that I don’t know the first thing about, to be silent and obedient, adhering to my husband’s every wish.”
He remained silent, unsure of what to say – he had been the cause of your suffering, at least in the short-term. This marriage of yours seemed unavoidable, something you’d have to endure for god knows how long.
He turned your face by your chin, gently pressing the washcloth to your cheeks, wiping away soot and tears with a few simple strokes. 
“I don’t even know what I did wrong, it all feels so– so unjust,” you confessed.
Had Sanemi not had centuries upon centuries to learn keeping up facades, he would have given himself away right then and there. In a mere second, you managed to replace the guilt that festered within his heart with pure rage.
How blind were you?
He said nothing as he finished washing you up, being careful to not scrub harshly at your skin despite his anger and hatred, and then toweled you up by the time he had finished. 
“Good night, princess,” he uttered before leaving you to dry yourself, resolving to not take a single glance back as you looked at him – or, looked at the maid – in pure confusion and hurt.
Y/N’s POV
“My princess,” Mitsuri whispered as she woke you up, “you slept for so long – it’s about time to get ready for the ball tonight.”
Your eyes shot open, anxiety spiking in your chest, “already?”
Mitsuri nodded, eyes softening in concern for you.
Fuck.
Mitsuri brought in a champagne colored dress which had been specially designed for you – taking all of your measurements into consideration, as well as a white mask with gold lining, and white feathers which were reminiscent of a swan. 
Mitsuri helped lace up the dress, which, unlike the rest of your outfits, thankfully fit quite well. She then placed the mask on your face, before taking your hand and gently leading you down to the great hall – where the festivities would soon begin.
Upon opening the doors, it became difficult to breathe, with people clustered together, voices clashing together as conversations carried through the hall. There was some dancing, yet those who were taking their chances on the ballroom floor seemed rather clumsy and uncoordinated in their steps, while those who were on the sidelines speaking with relatives and strangers alike sampled foods from trays that disappeared and reappeared along with the waiters that weaved haphazardly through the hall. 
You walked toward the front of the room, picking up your dress so as to not trip on the ornate staircase which led up to where your father – and King – waited for you.
“You look quite beautiful, my child, I hope you will be able to enjoy tonight’s celebrations,” he beamed, and you nodded in response.
“Are there any plans you have for me, father?”
“I do have a few princes I’d like for you to meet – namely those from the Agatsuma, Iguro, and Rengoku bloodlines. They all show promise – perhaps some more than others – of being benevolent rulers.”
As though prompted, a blonde man walked up the stairs toward you and your father, his hand shaky as he extended it toward you. Otherwise, there were no particular qualities of his that stood out to you. You looked at him expectantly, awaiting some sort of introduction.
“Y-your highness! May– may I please have your first dance of the night?” the man before you sputtered, and it took everything within you to properly school your expression so that your father wouldn’t scold you for poor behavior.
“May I know who I have the pleasure of dancing with?” you managed to ask the blonde, who seemed as though he would keel over and faint at just about any moment.
“Oh– I’m Zenitsu Agastuma, sorry–” he introduced himself, bowing before you.
Reluctantly, you curtseyed back, before placing your hand in his, grimacing at the clamminess of his skin. 
He placed his other hand on top of yours, “Thank you! I promise you won’t regret this!”
He took you down to the floor, muttering brief apologies to every person you two passed by. By the time you two the center of the great hall, he took one of your hands and placed it on his left shoulder blade, before taking his right hand in your left.
“Are you expecting me to lead?” you asked, and his face went bright red.
“If that’s alright with you, my lovely princess, and– if we could just do a simple box step, perhaps? I– I’m not too good with dancing,” he said sheepishly.
You sighed, deciding to take the lead in a box step, with him following each of your movements, until he tripped over your shoes.
“Sorry! Sorry!” he exclaimed, obviously nervous, his movements short and jittery with each subsequent step.
You sighed, but then he tripped over your feet again, and again, muttering out apology after apology each time.
By the time the song had finished, you’d had enough of him and walked him off of the dance floor.
“Wait– please! Give me another chance! I– I promise I’d be a good husband, please!” he babbled, tears flowing down past his mask and down his cheeks. You forced him off of you, shaking your hand so he’d let go.
You went to sit down next to your father, who seemed to be chuckling in amusement.
“Are you laughing at me, father?” you asked, your tone tense after what humiliation the blonde had caused you in front of your subjects.
“No, no– I promise I’m not,” he smiled, before summoning the next prince that he’d mentioned – a rather short man with black hair. Through his mask, you could see that his eyes were quite beautiful – being two separate colors.
Yet, his eyes were elsewhere, staring longingly at your friend, Mitsuri, rather than you.
“Erm– hello, may I ask for your name?” you asked the man.
“Hmm? I’m not interested,” he said curtly, “I decline the opportunity to dance with you, princess.”
Your mouth hung open, absolutely offended by the man before you.
“Are you absolutely sure, Prince Iguro?” your father questioned, and the prince nodded in affirmation.
“Yes, please honor my choice, your highness.”
Your father sighed, dismissing him and the prince quickly found his way to Mitsuri, who started blushing up a storm as soon as he started speaking with her.
At least one of us will have a chance at finding love tonight, you thought.
The last prince whom your father mentioned was summoned next, a young man who seemed rather jovial and filled with vigor, with hair that resembled that of flames themselves and eyes that were reminiscent of crackling embers.
“Your highness, would you be so kind and allow me to dance with you?” he smiled, a grin that was infectious as it caused you to return your own.
“Of course,” you happily responded.
He took your hand, kissing your knuckles before leading you back to the center of the ballroom, placing a hand on your left shoulder and leading you into the dance.
“I hope that this evening has fared well for you so far, my dear princess,” he said, twirling you around.
It was comforting – he was comforting. He provided you with air where you felt you could not breathe.
“It is going much better now that I am here with you, dear prince,” you smiled, “may I ask for your name?”
“Kyojuro Rengoku,” he answered, before leaning you into a dip and bringing you back upright, guiding you into another step, and another.
He was incredibly smooth with his movements – all until a waiter accidentally bumped into him, spilling wine down the back of his suit.
“My prince! I’m so, so sorry–” the waiter apologized, trying to clean up his suit with a spare cloth.
Kyojuro simply laughed it off, “it’s quite alright, dear waiter,” before turning to you, whispering “I’ll go get changed, and then I’ll be back for you, alright, my dear princess?”
You felt a warmth creep up your cheeks before nodding, seeing him give you a quick wink before he was off.
Your observing of the kind prince was interrupted by a gentle touch to your shoulder. Thinking it was Mitsuri, you turned around with a smile on your face, which quickly faded into one of confusion upon seeing the person in front of you.
“Hello, princess, may I have your next dance?”
The man before you was about as tall as Kyojuro, with white hair that seemed untamable. A man who displayed scars in every place of exposed skin, his raven mask unable to fully conceal the ones on his face.
Perhaps he was a royal knight of some sort?
“And who are you, may I ask?” you inquired, and a small smirk stretched along his lips.
“Sanemi, dear princess, my name is Sanemi.”
He extended his hand, which you observed had a similar scar to the one you thought Mitsuri had just a few nights ago.
Hesitantly, you placed your hand in his – immediately noting the warmth and roughness of his skin – as though he’d spent years working with them. His grip was firm, but not harsh – indicating knowledge of his own strength. 
His right hand slid down to the small of your back, finding its purchase just above your hip – not daring to go lower. He led you into a similar waltz that Kyojuro placed you in, yet, this one somehow felt more…intimate.
“Sanemi,” you started, rolling his name along the tip of your tongue, “do you not possess a last name? Or are you perhaps a scoundrel with a tarnished reputation?” you teased, each step between the two of you smooth, almost calculated as he led you through the ballroom.
“Do you believe you have earned my last name, princess?” he whispered hotly, to which you felt heat prickle along your face. 
He chuckled, “apparently not. But–” he led you into a quick spin, before pulling you close once more, “if you get to know me well enough, perhaps I’d be so willing to indulge in your curiosity.”
“Get to know you? Is that supposed to be some sort of challenge?”
“If that is how you perceive it,” he responded vaguely.
Curious, you were – the man before you hauntingly beautiful, the smoothness of his voice and his mystery, combined with his confidence made it difficult to believe he wasn’t of royal blood..
He’d definitely be fit as a King, you thought.
“What, may I ask, is your occupation then, Sanemi?” you asked, wishing to glean more information from the masked man.
“I’ve done quite a few things in my life, and I’d say that I'm competent in all that I do, princess.”
“A jack of all trades is a master of none, you should know,” you challenged.
“Ah, but oftentimes better than a master of one,” he continued, leaning closely into you, his breath gracing your ear, “and trust me darling, I’m a master of all of my works.”
Your face heated up at his claim, thanking the fact that he’d led you into a spin, so you could somewhat hide your embarrassment.
“Is that so? Then I think you’d have to show me one day, Sanemi.”
“Who’s to say that I haven’t already?” he avowed, his violet eyes sparkling behind his mask with knowledge unknown to you.
“What do you mean?” you inquired, side-stepping before he leaned you into a dip, his eyes looking directly into yours as he leaned closely into you.
“Don’t worry your pretty little head, dear princess, I promise you’ll find out soon enough.”
As he brought you back upright, he parted from you, before taking your hand and kissing your knuckles – just as the prince before him did.
With his other hand, seemingly from nowhere, he pulled out an orange lily, and placed it into the hand that he kissed.
“I found this growing on the outskirts of your garden just yesterday. Such a shame the beautiful thing burned down.”
Speechless, you took the lily from him.
“Your condolences are appreciated.” You brought the lily up to your nose to take in its scent, before smiling at him and curtseying. “Thank you for the flower, and the dance, Sanemi, I’ll do well to remember you.”
“Father, please, I implore you to tell me who you have decided upon,” you begged, having waited impatiently until a majority of guests had exited the palace and gone home. Maids and servants proceeded with cleaning up the hall quickly after most of the festivities died down, and by now, most tables had chairs overturned on top of them, and mops could be found in use scattered throughout the ballroom floor. 
“My dear child, I am not able to give you an answer as you so wish. My advisors and I will need to convene and discuss our thoughts on what marriage would prove best for our kingdom.”
“Well, if you’d let me, I’d hope that you’d keep in mind that prince from the Ren–”
“My dear, as much as I’d love to take into consideration your opinion, this is a matter of kingdom survival, and thus my advisor’s opinions will have much more weight than my own child’s.”
Your mouth fell slightly agape, “but, didn’t you promise that you’d take into consideration the prince I got along most kindly with?”
“I did, my dear, but I have decided to rescind that statement. After your rather childish tantrum you displayed in front of me and my advisors, I came to the realization that you are not mature enough to make decisions that take more than just yourself into consideration.”
“But–”
“Child, indeed it is a most regrettable decision, but if I am to keep the kingdom’s interests in mind, then I will do what I believe is best.”
Tears of anger brimmed in your eyes as you once again stormed away from your father, exiting through the rather large doors at the end of the great hall and marching through them. You raced toward your chambers, where you wished to sob into your pillow until the morning came.
“Your father is right, you know,” a low voice spoke from one of the more darkened corridors as you passed by, causing you to stop dead in your tracks.
Looking around, you saw no one – you were alone, and yet, somewhere, someone was speaking to you.
Not only that, but they’d also listened in on the conversation you’d had with your father.
You peeked down one corridor, trying to make out a figure in the shadows, when you were suddenly pushed into the stone wall, a hand reaching around your mouth as a body held you in place.
“Don’t. Scream.”
A muffled cry came out of your throat, which prompted the assailant to point a cold, metal blade to your throat.
“The hell did I just fuckin’ tell you, sweetheart?”
Your breathing became rapid, panic ensuing as the knife trailed down your throat – just gentle enough so as to not draw any blood.
“Y’know, princess, I’ve been tryin’ to get you to see your wrongdoings this entire fuckin’ week,” the stranger started, “but you just don’t fuckin’ learn, do ya?”
Your eyes widened as you realized this person had been responsible for everything.
Including your garden.
In a fit of rage, you tried biting your assailant's hand, to which he simply moved it to constrict lightly around your throat.
“Oho–! Do we have a biter here, sweet thing? And to think that I always thought your bark was worse…”
“You bastard, let me go! I’ll have your fuckin’ head for this!”
“Oh sweetheart, you’ll definitely have my head, but not in the way you seem to think. Y’see, I’ve been tryin’ so fuckin’ hard to get you to understand how pretentious you are, how much of a snob you are, and, frankly, I’ve run out of ideas, princess.”
He turned your face towards him, making you realize it was the same person who’d danced with you at the ball – the man with the scars, the white, unruly hair, and his strikingly violet eyes.
“Sanemi?” you asked, even though in your heart you knew it was him.
Sanemi grinned, “ah, so you do have a brain up there in that pretty little head of yours,” he sneered at you, “then maybe this last little lesson I give you will be the one that finally sticks.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” you hissed, and Sanemi chuckled as you struggled against him.
“Oh, princess, have you not realized what I’m gonna do yet?” he cooed mockingly, “I’m gonna fuck the brattiness out of you, sweetheart.”
A small gasp left your lips at his assertion, yet, you couldn’t help the feeling of heat spreading both across your cheeks, as well as the kindling of flames within your lower stomach.
You were to be forcefully married, to live a life of servitude to your husband – who will be pronounced King once your father passes, to endure a loveless marriage – with tolerance of your significant other being the most you could possibly hope for. 
You could have a little fun before all that, couldn’t you?
Sanemi darkly chucked behind you, “I can smell your arousal, sweet thing, you really do want this, don’t ya?”
The man threw the knife to the ground before licking a stripe up your neck and leaving bites across the expanse of your skin, starting with your earlobe and working his way down to your shoulder, teeth sharp as they grazed along your body.
You shivered, embarrassment flooding your veins at how you reacted to his touch – you shouldn’t want this, you were a princess, a proper lady who knew that doing such acts before marriage was scandalous.
But, did you truly care about your marriage?
With each brush of his roughened hands against your skin, the consequences that threatened your wishes of this continuing faded further and further.
Sanemi worked his hands to the center of your back, his fingers deftly untying the lace of your dress – as though he had experience in such skills before this.
“Such a fuckin’ slut, wishing for me to take you before you’re married – what would your father think?” he asked mockingly as he pushed your dress down, revealing your breasts to him.
“Oh– that’s right, you don’t care much of what he– or anyone– thinks, do you?” he answered his own question, before leaning down and pursing his lips around one of your nipples, sucking harshly at your tits, earning a soft gasp from you as your face contorted at the sensation. His tongue laved against the softness of your skin, before biting down – making you let out a sharp hiss before bringing your hand up to his hair and tugging at it.
He looked up at you, hate and lust evident in his eyes as he pulled off of you with a lewd pop, and, just before you thought he would move on to the other tit and perform the same actions, he instead raised his hand and gave a sudden, hard slap to your breast.
“Ah–!” you gasped, evoking a laugh from him.
“Oh, do you like pain, brat?” he taunted, causing you to flush intensely across your cheeks as he landed another slap to your other tit, to which you let out another, shorter gasp from you.
“Answer the question, slut.”
Whimpering, you slowly nodded, and he grinned before roughly grabbing at your tits, rolling your nipples in between his fingers.
“Then get on your knees f’ me.”
You looked at him as though he were crazy, but, with one last slap to your tits, you quickly complied, lowering yourself to the ground.
“Isn’t this a sweet sight?” Sanemi chuckled, “a princess kneeling before someone else – how cute.”
Humiliation seeped into your veins as you looked down at the floor, unable to meet his eyes with  your own, until he forced your chin up, and– after a small wave of his hand, you felt someone else pushing you down onto all fours. Flinching at the contact, you quickly turned your head around to see another Sanemi staring back at you – fully naked and littered with scars.
“What–” you started, before the second Sanemi started to rip your dress off of you – ruining it beyond repair.
“Oh, are you surprised, princess?” the original Sanemi asked, “how did you think all of the shit that happened to you this past week came about?”
Before you could answer, a rough smack landed on your ass, the strength of it causing you to be pushed forward as you whined at the stinging pain that Sanemi’s hand left behind.
“That’s one, brat, I think you could stand to handle a bit more, can’t you?” the Sanemi in front of you decided before taking his cock out of his pants as the one behind you dealt a smack to your other asscheek. He started stroking his cock with his fist as his double continued his assault behind you.
“You’re so fuckin’ wet already,” muttered the one behind you, as you felt two fingers dip in between your folds – collecting your slick before landing another blow, “such a goddamn whore, aren’t ya? And all from being spanked? You’re fuckin’ filthy, princess.”
Smack!
Smack!
Smack!
Tears were starting to escape your eyes – your ass starting to feel raw from the constant blows. The tears found their way down your cheeks before the Sanemi in front of you lifted your chin up with one hand, stroking his cock furiously with the other as he groaned at the sight in front of him.
“Fuck– I’ve wanted to ruin you all week, princess, make you nothing more than a whore for my cock – to turn you into a braindead fucktoy all for my pleasure.”
You whined at his confession, leaning forward a little in an attempt to catch his lips with yours before he pulled away from you, leaving you feeling unfulfilled before his clone landed a harsh slap to your pussy – causing you to yelp as the clone started to prod his fingers at your entrance.
“Please, more,” you begged.
“Hmmm, I don’t think you deserve more, princess,” Sanemi smirked, before closing the distance between you and his cock – the tip of which blushing a deep red as precum seeped out from it.
“Be a good girl for once and earn your pleasure.”
You hesitantly looked up at him, before reaching out your hand and delicately wrapping it around his thick cock. Sanemi hissed, not fully expecting how soft and plush your hand would feel when wrapped around him.
Starting out with some slow, gentle strokes, Sanemi started bucking slightly into your hand – not used to how languid and soft your movements were. You traced your thumb over his leaking slit, gathering his precum before moving back down his length.
The clone behind you finally pushed his fingers deeper into you, making you whine at the intrusion as he curled his fingers inside your wet heat, moving at about the same pace that you stroked the other one’s cock, repeatedly pressing into that one area that pulsed pleasure through your abdomen with each movement. You writhed in his hold, resulting in him using his other arm to keep your hips in place as he fucked you with his fingers.
“M-More,” you whimpered, closing your eyes at the sensation of his fingers inside of you, his tortuous pace and his hold on your hips forcing you to take only what he decided to give you – what he thought you deserved.
“Uh uh–” Sanemi tutted, grabbing your perfectly styled hair into his fist, pulling your head up toward him, “keep your eyes open, brat, you still gotta work on my cock, remember?”
You nodded, opening your eyes as you focused on stroking his cock, increasing the speed at which your hand glided along his length.
Sanemi’s fingers, too, picked up a faster pace, two of his clone’s thick digits pumping in and out of you, until the only sounds that could be heard were the slick of your hands working on each other and the soft grunts and moans coming from each of your throats.
Then, without warning, the clone decided to remove his fingers from your pussy. Whining, you tried pushing your hips back to receive more attention from him, only to let out a shaky moan when you felt his wet tongue travel along your slit.
“Fu–uh–ck” you shuddered as he lapped up your juices, his hands spreading along the meat of your ass, making you wince slightly from remnants of the earlier punishment you received.
“Shit, you taste so fuckin’ good,” the clone muttered as he licked a broad stripe up your cunt, “fuckin’ knew you would, princess, you always smelled so damn sweet.”
“H-Hah–?” you tried to conjure a response, which more so resembled that of a moan as it tumbled out between your lips.
“C’mon, don’t tell me I’ve fucked you stupid already, princess,” Sanemi chuckled, “just what do you think happened to all that clothing of yours? Especially your panties– god I couldn’t get enough of ‘em, your scent would linger for so damn long.”
An intense heat bloomed along your cheeks, realizing just exactly what he meant.
Sanemi’s clone groaned as he plunged his tongue into your heat, lapping up everything you gave him as he ate you out. You continued stroking the other’s thick length, bringing your lips to the tip of his cock, experimentally licking at his leaking slit. Sanemi’s grip on your hair tightened, encouraging you to keep going – to keep serving him.
You wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, a soft hum sending vibrations down his length as you reveled in the way his clone was sucking at your clit. Hollowing your cheeks, you started sucking at his bulbous head, using your tongue to lap up any precum that seeped out of his weeping slit. Sanemi pushed your head further down, impatient with you only giving attention to his reddened tip, which caused you to choke along his length as it entered the back of your throat, tears pooling around your eyes as your lips swollen lips took inch after inch of his thick cock.
“Fuck– that’s it, princess, just hold on a lil’ longer f’ me,” he grinned as he looked down at the mess you were quickly becoming, gagging around him like the good little slut you were, until he finally let you off of his cock, with you gasping for air.
Yet, his clone didn’t stop his assault on your cunt, switching between licking and sucking at your clit and feasting on the sweetness that came out of your wet heat. The original Sanemi put his hand underneath your chin once more, forcing you to look up at him as the tension in your stomach got tighter and tighter.
“God– so good,” you whined, relishing in how Sanemi’s tongue felt against your wet cunt, looking up at the one in front of you with the prettiest, watery eyes that he’d ever seen, eyes which begged him to let you cum.
Yet, just as the warmth in your stomach was about to spill over, the clone removed his mouth from your pussy, leaving you to clench around nothing as you whined and pouted at the one in front of you.
Both of them let out a light snicker, until the one holding your chin knelt down in front of you, grinning as he stared down at your pathetic form.
“Did you really think I’d let you cum so easily, little brat?” he inquired, the raspiness of his throat making his question all the more intimidating. You shook your head, knowing better than to argue or beg for what you wanted.
The Sanemi behind you gave a sharp slap to your pussy, causing you to yelp from how sensitive you were from the pleasure his tongue gave you only seconds before.
“Please– wan’ your cock, wan’ to cum around it,” you whined pathetically, trying to wiggle your hips as they were held in place by the clone behind you.
Sanemi’s eyes were wild as he smirked down at you, “Oh? You want my cock, princess? You want me to ruin you completely – make you a complete mess until you’re nothing but a hole for me to fill?”
You nodded quickly, eyes glossed over as he described what he could do to you. 
“Fine, just because you begged so sweetly for it – but you won’t be getting my cock, princess – not yet. You’ll have to make do with my double’s – think you can do that for me?”
“Yes– please, anything, plea–ah!”
Without warning, the clone behind you shoved himself balls deep inside of your hot cunt, breaking past the thin tissue near your opening and pushing deeper, until his tip nearly kissed your cervix.
Sanemi’s thrusts were rough, plunging into your heat fully with each strong push of his hips. His balls slapped against your clit, providing extra stimulation as he fucked himself into you, turning you into a whining, moaning mess.
The original Sanemi took in every expression and movement you made, relishing in how he was finally able to break you down into tiny little pieces. He grabbed his cock as his clone continued pumping into you, and started fisting himself at an equally fast pace.
“Look at yourself, princess, so fuckin’ pathetic, aren’t ya?” he grinned, “you’d always carry yourself like you were the most important person in the room – like no one else mattered but you, all because of your goddamn status.”
You whined in response, unable to verbalize anything as your mind softened with every single thrust of his cock; you were becoming malleable, your mind opening and wishing to be molded by him the more he fucked you.
“I reject all of that. You were never important – you’re nothing but a fuckin’ brat for me to tame, a slut who needs nothing but a cock to make her happy.”
He slapped your face with his cock, some of the release which seeped out from his tip managing to find itself on your cheeks before he began stroking himself at a furious pace once more. His other clone pounded himself into your cunt, the blunt head of it fucking that one spot inside of you which made your mind go blank.
He was right – you weren’t a princess, you weren’t someone with status or wealth or royal blood – you were nothing but a hole all this time for him to use and fill, a cumslut, a cocksleeve – all for the man in front of you.
How could you be so blind?
All you could do was moan, becoming more and more pathetic as his clone filled you with his cock, clenching around it and gripping his cock like a vice, your cunt sucking him back in every single time he pulled out.
But it wasn’t enough.
You needed – you craved the Sanemi in front of you. You needed him – not his clone, to take you, to truly beat you into submission like the dumb little brat you were.
“Please, please Sanemi– I need you,” you begged with the man in front of you, tears filling your eyes once more as you pleaded for him to fill you – to make you his.
The Sanemi in front of you said nothing before standing up to his full height as his clone removed his cock from you. The original Sanemi waved his hand yet again, this time allowing a cushioned mattress to appear in the small, dark corridor the two of you were in. 
The clone sat down on the mattress, before the original followed suit.
“Sit on my lap,” he demanded, and you obeyed immediately – thighs wrapping around his waist as he slipped his cock into you, to which your head fell to his shoulder as you let out what could only be described as a sigh of relief.
Sanemi gripped your hips, moving you up and down on his cock so you could get an understanding of what he wanted you to do, showing you exactly how he wanted you to bounce on his dick.
It wasn’t long before you grew enough confidence to perform the action by yourself, moving your hips up and down as you fucked yourself on his cock. Your arms found their way around his neck as you whimpered softly into his ear as you impaled yourself on him again and again – with no thoughts going through your mind other than the desire to make him feel good.
At some point, you noticed his clone behind you, a single digit nudging at the entrance of your asshole, pushing and prodding his finger gently so he could fully enter it inside of you. Heat prickled against your cheeks as you forced yourself to relax rather than tense at the unfamiliar contact – allowing the clone’s finger to work its way into your ass.
You continued to fuck yourself on Sanemi’s cock as one finger became two, opening you up further and further, before you felt a lubricant of some sort being conjured from the clone’s fingers, allowing him easier access to your hole as he continued fingering you.
“Relax f’ me, sweetheart,” the clone muttered as you whimpered in response, your movements slowing as you noticed his cock pressing against your ass – which had also been covered in lube – before slowly pushing into you.
You choked on a moan as you felt him stretch you out more than you thought possible, having fully stopped your movements in order to focus on accommodating his massive length inside of you.
Realizing this, Sanemi readjusted himself so that he was laying on his back, heels digging into the mattress before continuing to fuck into you. His clone got up on his knees before entering himself back into your tight hole, entering you when the other Sanemi pulled out – constantly being filled by either one of them without end.
“Fuckk,” you groaned, mind addled with pleasure as the two Sanemis kept filling you with their cocks, unrelenting in their thrusts as they bullied themselves deeper and deeper into your holes. You felt that same pressure building up in your abdomen again, becoming tighter and tighter with each plunge of their cocks.
“Please, ‘m gonna– ‘m gonna,” you begged Sanemi once more as your tears started to flow freely down your cheeks, pleading with him to let you cum.
“No. You’re gonna fuckin’ hold it. You don’t get to cum until I tell you to,” he answered, making you whine yet again at how unfair he was being.
They started fucking you even harder, thrusts unrelenting as they took turns filling you up. It took everything within you to not cum – to obey Sanemi’s command, shutting your eyes tightly as you tried focusing on anything other than how good they were making you feel.
Both Sanemi and his clone’s thrusts started to become sloppier, rutting into you as they both started to reach their own ends.
“I’m gonna cum in this fuckin’ pussy,” Sanemi growled, his voice raspy as he fucked into you, his cock starting to twitch as he neared orgasm, “gonna cum in my pussy, isn’t that right, brat?”
You nodded, “Please! Need your cum Sanemi, please cum inside me–!”
With one final stroke, both him and his clone released deep inside of you – flooding both of your holes with their hot ropes of cum.
“Fuck! Too– too much! Gonna– ah!”
You couldn’t help it– the feeling of them filling you up felt too good. Despite desperately wishing to obey Sanemi’s order, you ended up orgasming all over their cocks, gushing around them as warm ropes filled you up, with both of them groaning as you clenched and pulsed around them.
“Fuck–! ‘M sorry! ‘M so sorry!” you whined loudly as you came, hips betraying you as you attempted to prolong your euphoria by grinding down onto them.
After coming down from your high, you were met with a stormy glare from the man in front of you. 
Your eyes widened, knowing you’d fucked up.
“I’m so sorry, Sanemi, I didn’t mean to, I–”
Sanemi grabbed your face, his thick fingers pressing into either of your cheeks.
“What did I fuckin’ tell you?” he asked simply, and a fresh set of tears brimmed at your eyes.
“Y-You told me not to cum,” you answered meekly.
“That’s right, brat,” he responded, waving his free hand to dismiss his clone – making his double disappear completely as he pulled out of your pussy. You whined at the lack of something filling you up, your poor cunt clenching around nothing once more as Sanemi moved away from you.
“On your back, now.”
You obeyed, flipping onto your back and spreading your legs for him without a second thought. You fought the urge to rub your clit – knowing it wasn’t your place to provide yourself pleasure anymore, as you watched him place his cock right in front of your entrance.
“Please, ‘m sorry,” you pleaded as you watched him glide it up and down your sopping pussy, gathering your slick on the tip of his cock. His lilac eyes met yours once more as he finally lined himself up at your entrance.
“If you want to cum so bad, fine. I’ll make you cum until you can’t even fuckin’ think anymore.”
He pushed his cock inside of you, flicking at your clit with his thumb as he dragged his length against your slick walls, brushing against that one spot which made you see stars.
“Please, nngh– need it,” you sobbed as he relentlessly fucked into you, before he took one of his hands and pressed it down on your lower stomach.
“Oh, don’t worry, you’ll fuckin’ get it, brat–” he panted, “feel me? Feel my cock pressing all the way into your stomach?”
You nodded, eyes rolling back as he refused to let up, your orgasm building on itself again until it finally reached its peak once more.
“Fuck–!” you screamed as he fucked you through your orgasm, not letting up even as you came down from your high, denying you any break from the pleasure that he was giving you.
It wasn’t long before the next orgasm as Sanemi rubbed your clit at a similar speed to his thrusts, causing you to gush again around his cock. He groaned as your cunt pulsed around him, milking him for all he had – yet he didn’t stop, rather, he pulled orgasm after orgasm out of you – denying his own release in order to fulfill his promise of overstimulating you.
At some point – you weren’t entirely sure when – Sanemi folded you in half, your legs reaching your shoulders as he slammed even deeper into your cunt, his cock brushing against your cervix with each stroke. Your mouth hung open, your voice emitting short, unrestrained moans as he continued his assault on your pussy – fully abusing it until it molded into the shape of his cock.
“Shit, you’re gonna make me cum, brat,” Sanemi grunted as his hips fell onto yours with every single stroke of his cock. You whimpered, wishing for nothing more than his cum to fill you up – to breed you like the whore you were. 
You responded with incoherent babbles, whining and moaning the more he rutted into your cunt, his thrusts getting sloppier as he approached his peak for a second time.
“Gonna fill you up, make you pregnant before you’re even– hah– even married,” he panted, a promise which made you clench around him even more, “you’d like that, wouldn’t you, brat?”
“Y-Yes!” you managed to voice as he slammed himself deep inside you one final time, grunting as he filled you up – triggering your own final orgasm, causing you to milk him dry as he painted your walls white.
Sanemi collapsed to the side of you as the two of you regained your breath, staying like that for a few minutes before either of you spoke.
“I wanted to apologize,” he said awkwardly, “for ruining your garden in the way that I did.”
In response to your silence, he continued, “I had gone too far, I took something that you held dear to your heart away from you. I’m sorry.”
“I think I need to apologize as well,” you finally said, “not just to you, but to the others as well.”
Sanemi turned on his side, holding himself up by his elbow as he looked down at you, a slight grin on his face.
“You mean to tell me that fucking you was the solution to your brattiness this whole time? Not the crows or the dead cow–”
“Shut up!” you laughed as you smacked him in the chest, only causing him to grin more from your reaction.
“Am I wrong, princess?” he jokingly inquired, to which you hid your face from him with the palms of your hands – until he pushed your arms away, looking down at you with a triumphant smile on his face.
“You’re so stupid,” you half-heartedly spit at him, to which he put a hand to his chest in mock pain.
“You wound me, princess.”
You shook your head, scoffing as he got up, making the mattress beneath you disappear with a final wave of his hand, causing you to fall slightly onto the cold floor of the dark corridor.
“Are you going somewhere?” you asked him.
“I’m not exactly fond of castles, sweetheart, I can’t stand the pretentious atmosphere they tend to have.”
“So you’re leaving?” you further questioned, a little upset with the idea of not seeing him again.
“I am, but, if you are going to miss me so terribly, I could always sweep in and take you away from this wretched place, but I doubt you’d so easily leave your status and wealth behind.”
You remained silent, knowing that it would be near impossible for you to forsake all of which you knew and had for a simple, spontaneous desire to say yes, you would.
Sanemi smiled, his eyes soft as he gazed upon you – what was once hatred now replaced with something rather unfamiliar before vanishing before your very eyes, leaving you to stare at the emptiness of the corridor that you were in – having become alone once again.
Sighing, you stood up, gathering yourself – realizing that your once torn dress had been somehow completely repaired – as though it were entirely new.
With a little bit of difficulty, you managed to put your dress back on before heading back to your chambers, the unease of being married the following day looming over your mind once again.
The chirping of birds could be heard from your window once more, and, out of pure curiosity, you decided to peek out from your window to gaze out upon what was left of your garden. Yet, instead of seeing nothing but scorched soil, you managed to spot the blooming of a new plant – one which had not previously grown in your garden at all.
Rain lilies.
Perhaps, you thought, I should go down there and nurture them myself.
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Taglist: @k-a-t-h-r-i-n-a, @wow-im-gay, @peanutpunchy, @love-me-satoru, @crazycatlddy, @pastelbluecloudy3, @dinosaur-crime-scene, @llearlert, @thisbicc, @gojoscumslut, @everyonesfinaldestination, @leehoonii-i, @roronoagem, @briefrebelfanalmond, @izuoyarmin, @ahashiraswife, @d1gitalbathh, @homo-homini-lupus-est-1701, @whatthefucksatan, @peachdues, @xxsabitoxx (If your name is crossed out, it means tumblr didn't allow me to tag you. Apologies for the inconvenience.)
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I hope y'all enjoyed :)
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ravengards-rogue · 15 days
Text
i thought of you so often.
arthur morgan x reader.
✧ tags : fem!reader (gendered language, explicit use of she/her in reference to reader), children / planning on children, generally sappiness, fluff, au where nothing bad happens to arthur hdskjsdkfhsj.
✧ wc : 2.4k (???)
✧ a/n : arthur morgan.... save me arthur morgan....also not a super original thought but i can't Stop thinking about it.
✧ synopsis : a collection of love letters, all unfinished, tucked somewhere you aren't meant to find them. oh, arthur loves you more than you knew.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚。⋆
You try to keep out of Arthur's belongings.
He's owed some privacy, for one. More than that, you've never felt any reason to look into it. Arthur isn't a man of many words, though you catch moments of his introspection should you pry. He isn't stoic, neither. And above all things, he's kind. Really truly kind in a way that makes him different from other men.
You don't have any complaints about him is what you mean. Unlike the men you've loved before, there are no short-comings of Arthur that would drive you to wanting to investigate his own personal things. Especially something so personal like his journals, prior or present.
On top of that, you were there with him through everything. You were part of the gang and stayed by him when it all fell apart. It was towards the end of that that Arthur came to you near frenzied, told you his plans, his thoughts. Confided in you and no less than begged to go with him where he ran.
You loved Arthur enough to stay, and so things ended - and you ran. There isn't much his journal could tell that you couldn't surmise on your own.
It's been years now, and you've long since left that life. You live with Arthur quietly, peaceful in the moments with a garden and kitty sweet as sugar.
It's a good life. An honest, quiet one sometimes to the point of being boring. You rarely miss the action, though occasionally you'll take up a bounty just to feel alive and make some money.
Mostly though, you live as unassuming folk. No bloodshed, no wardens, no gunslinging.
Been talk between you both about having a baby, recently. Serious talk. You've made some money between here and there, and you've got a good life. You've traveled too. But it gets a little lonely, and you don't really get your fill with just Jack when John and Abi are ways away.
Before anything like that, though - you need to clear some space. Empty out some belongings and things collecting dust. Living in one place for too long creates all sorts of mess, you find. When Arthur is home to help, he does - but he's been busy lately figuring something out with Charles. Some business venture related to ranching that you know nothing about so far. They'll tell you when its ready.
Usually when you're tidying, you keep to just your things, or your shared things - but Arthur has lived more life than you. It shows in that big closet space filled with nick-knacks he has yet to toss.
You'd mentioned it to him not too long ago and he'd given you permission to go through them.
(A kiss to your forehead from chapped lips and hands holding your waist, Arthur hums in acknowledgement as you ask his permission.
"Ain't nothing I gotta hide from you. Do whatever you need.)
But like you said - you try to keep your nose out of his business if it's not necessary for you to be in it in anyway.
You weren't trying to look through his things, really. You started cleaning, worked your way to that last box. Up on a shelf in his closet, a little too high for you to reach easily. You made a misstep and dropped the damn thing. It barely missed your head as the whole thing fell open, and out came journals and papers and photographs.
You've always known Arthur to be sentimental, so none of it has been particularly surprising. A photo of wolves and him on a horse, the picture from John and Abigail's engagement. Some other scraps of sentimental value.
And then there was a journal. Not Arthur's journal that he's always using, but another you've never seen before. You know Arthur journals, seen the thing plenty though you never look unless he shows you first.
A journal with a dark brown stained leather binding, fallen open and your name scrawled out in pencil lead at the top of it.
The curiosity got the better of you, okay? Not your damn fault.
So you're thinking on it.
The fabric of your skirt is pooled out underneath you as you hold the thing in your hands, sitting down on the ground surrounded by things. You've stowed away everything else that fell out from the box after ensuring it was intact, including Arthur's journals. Everything with the exception of the one you're holding.
Some guilt eats at you. You don't wanna upset him potentially by having looked. Even if he gave you permission, looking in the damn thing is a little different. But your name was there so clearly, and well - you didn't think he wrote about you. Apart from here and there, maybe.
You hold the book out in front of you with a sigh, looking fondly at his name ingrained in the leather. You press your forehead against it with, resigning yourself completely.
"Lord forgive my pryin'," You mumble, hoping it's enough to absolve you.
Your heart feels funny as you let your fingers trace over the hard edge of the front cover, one eye shut as you start to open it slow.
The first few pages are nothing special.
A page outlining who the journal belongs to and when it was started, and some doodles of yarrow and oleander. The pages after that filled with mundane entries. About people he met or things he saw, all endearing to you. The corners of your lips tug up slightly.
You really love this man helplessly.
You flip through a few more pages, many of them blank before writing starts to appear again. Little by little, you find passages. You look to the dates up at the corner (though not all of them have one) and trace the timeline. This is from all the way back in Horseshoe Overlook.
It feels like ages ago now.
You look at a page with no date, and reading the writing in it. There's doodles of flowers and trees along the bottom of the page. The words are easy enough to make out - because Arthur has the most unusually beautiful handwriting.
There's some entries about you. At first, they all include your name in some context. Mentioned in the same way Arthur might mention Hosea or Abigail. The further you go, the less you see it. The more you become her and she.
It's a trend. The longer you read, the less there is about anyone else. Just you and all your silly idiosyncrasies tucked between pages. Something lovestruck and foolish lights its match in you.
Saw a body hanging at the tracks at Valentine. A gruesome sight. I told her about it and she laughed. Asked me to take her to see it. A strange woman, by all accounts.
You feel yourself smile a little as you continue to flip through the pages.
She joined me riding into town today. Said she had some business to attend but would not tell me any details. After, she came with me to purchase a new gun. I engraved a snake into it's handle, per her request.
Another few pages littered with drawings of delicate berries and waterfalls before you stumble across more writing. The more you flip, the longer the passages become you.
You can't tear your eyes away.
Rained today. Nothing too terrible or worth mentioning, except that she nearly caught a cold playing in it. I brought her coffee to keep her warm, but could not scold her further upon seeing her delight.
Another passage, this time written with messier hand writing. A coffee stain splatters on the white of the page.
Your heart tugs on itself. Swells about a thousand sizes. To think he wrote so much of your time together between these pages.
You read and read and read - and each passage is a little more mundane at the last. Some pages go on in vivid detail, but others are so short you aren't sure what to make of the fact he wrote them at all. As if such little details were important enough to keep in mind.
I picked a flower for her. I thought it would suit her taste. It was white with delicate petals. I did not know the name.
She wore it in her hair this evening. I find I can't stop grinning.
One passage on the next few pages, longer than the rest, catches your eye. From later in your time together, written when you were in Leymone. Near Scarlett Meadows and before the mess in Saint Denis.
After Arthur had been kidnapped.
I have gone on and on about the business with Colm O'Driscoll in many entries before this one. Yet, I find it difficult to forget. Many times I have come close to death, and still no experience lingers on my mind quite like this one. Everyone has done their best to look after me. For that I am grateful, though I do not care for being looked after. What use am I like this, I wonder? Perhaps, I should simply be grateful to be alive and in one piece, if a little uglier than I was. Alongside Miss Grimshaw and Miss Tilly, she has been by my side while I recovered. Such a carefree woman and yet I have seen her cry and weep over me countless times in the last few weeks alone. The decent man in me is apologetic for causing sorrow. Perhaps, it is the outlaw in me that feels some strange relief or satisfaction. Her fussing does not give me any grief. If anything, I find myself all the more endeared. Such a decent woman does not belong in a place like this. I hope she is able to go somewhere far away and live peacefully. I am not so shameless to want anything more. The time together we have spent, I will make sure to cherish.
Something painful and pitiful tugs at your heart. Even when Arthur admitted his feelings for you, he had started it on a similar tangent. You tell him often that you're the one who feels out of bounds with him. That a man as decent and as honest as him often feels like too much for you to have so easily.
A tear slips from your eye and you laugh at your own sentimentality, wiping it away before it can splatter onto the pages.
The further you read, the more sporadic entries become. You find that there are pages filled with sketches of you, but many of them are scratched out or half erased - like he did not find them good enough. Of your side profile, of your hands, of you pointing at a target with a gun. You feel a strange feeling of love wash over you.
Instead of concrete thoughts, you're met with Arthur's abstract. Subtle complexities and studies. There's honest tenderness in the way he sketches you and the words he chooses to caption each with. Lighter, thinner lines. Smaller doodles like stray daydreams caught onto a page.
You've never doubted Arthur in his love for you, quiet man he is - but it proves to overwhelm when presented to you in such a way.
You get to back pages. There, you're finally met with more writing. Except, instead of journal entries, there's the start of letters. You find your name at the top of the page.
Over and over. Love letters, all unfinished or scrapped. Written over and over and over, but not completed. There's tens of them at least. You've never received a love letter from Arthur before, though it's nothing you fault him for.
Now you're almost glad. You like this much better.
My darling girl My muse The better half of me, I must find some way to tell you all of what I think of you. It seems no words do it justice, I'm afraid. Still, it is in my best interest to try.
Damn that man.
When you find yourself starting to weep, you don't fight the feeling. You merely shut the book closed and set it in your lap before crying into your hands.
Such overwhelmingly happy tears. You feel off balance. If the whole world turned on its head this very minute, you're unsure you'd notice. What a decent, honest man you've come to love. What a tender one.
In the middle of your crying, you don't hear the door open or close. Nor do you hear Arthur's heavy footfall until he's in the doorway, with a voice worried half to death.
"Sweetheart, what in the hell?"
You turn your head to look at him, watching his eyes widen at your tear stained face. You clamber to your feet hurriedly, book dropping onto the ground next to you as you throw yourself at him as soon as you can.
Arthur is a steady enough man not to stumble when you do, though you can feel his apprehension. Eventually, he circles his arms around your waist. His hugs are strong. Bout strong as him and then some. An arm wrapped around your waist, the other crossed over your back all around your shoulder. Full pressure as he squeezes you tight, patting the back of your head.
"I leave you alone for a few hours. What has gotten into you, little lady?"
You pull back and and look at him, wet lashes and all, before leaning up to kiss him. Arthur meets your lips chastely at first before making a noise of surprise as you kiss him further. You use both hands to grab his face as you do, scruff scratching against your skin. His lips are soft, welcoming. He melts into the touch, so easily - blue eyes lovestruck as you pull away.
"You know I love you, don't you Arthur? More than anyone in this crazy world we live in,"
His face softens visibly. He smiles at you, touching his head to yours.
"Somehow, I do. Though, I'm wonderin' what the hell brought this on."
You tuck your face against his chest, feeling his laughter reverb through you at the way you cling to him so fervently. You sniffle as you talk.
"Found your journal. The one about me,"
He goes stiff, then silent. When you look up again, he's blushing red. He pinches his brow.
"Lord, I'd forgotten all about it,"
You shake your head.
"Ain't nothing for you to be embarrassed about. You are so wonderful,"
He pouts at you. Your heart swells. "You ain't helping with the embarrassment."
You hold him further. Hug him so tight, worried he'll disappear if you don't.
"I love you, Arthur."
"You already told me once, didn'tcha?"
"And I'll tell you one thousand times over," You emphasize, pouting at him. "Really. I love you,"
"I love you too sweetheart," His hand cups your face, thumb brushing along your waterline. "Don't cry no more. Spoils that pretty face."
"I'll try but I don't know if it's all out of me,"
Arthur laughs, pressing a kiss against your hairline. "Guess I'll just have to wipe your tears."
.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚。⋆
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thevanserrras · 5 months
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Returning home from a long mission, Azriel wants nothing more than to be alone with you. Unfortunately, interruptions abound.
A/N: Azriel x Reader. Fluff. In which Azriel is consistently c*ck blocked by the IC. I hope you enjoy! ♡ Warnings: None (ofc, if you feel differently let me know and I'll update!)
The moment his feet hit the balcony at the House of Wind, relief immediately washed over Azriel, your scent hitting him as he walked into the kitchen. Standing at the counter, you were wrapping up some cookies that you’d, presumably, just made based on the lovely aroma wafting towards him as he approached. With your back to him, he snuck up, snaking his arms around your waist, pressing a kiss to your temple; you didn’t need to turn to know that it was him, his shadows curled around your arms and wrists as you continued packing up the cookies. “Welcome home, Az,” you giggled; he trailed slow, soft kisses down your neck, punctuated by one last kiss to your shoulder. “I missed you,” he responded; turning in his arms, you rose on your tip-toes to kiss his cheek. “I missed you too,” you admitted. Eyes locked, the need to be closer to you was evident in those hazel orbs; he leaned in to kiss your lips, as footsteps came barreling into the room. “Hey! Look who’s home, Nes,” Cassian bellowed. Azriel groaned. “I thought we were alone,” Az whispered. “We were, they must have just got in,” you spoke into his ear. Turning, he greeted the pair. The four of you shared in polite conversation, Azriel filling Cassian in on details of his mission. After an acceptable amount of time to not be deemed rude, Azriel made some excuse about wanting to get changed out of his leathers, taking your hand he guided you back to your bedchambers.
Once inside, his hands found your shoulders, lips meeting yours, he guided you backwards to sit at the end of the bed. Sensing his increasing arousal, you broke the kiss, moving your attention to his neck; alternating peppering feather light kisses, and grazing the skin with your teeth. With a content sigh, he grasped for your hand to lace your fingers together. As his other hand cupped your jaw, lifting your face to his, desperate for the feel of your lips on his once more, he paused as a shadow breezed past his ear; he groaned, evidently, not from pleasure. “What is it?” you asked, breathily. “Rhysand,” he answered, annoyance clear in his tone, “he’s here to check-in about my findings.” “Oh,” you said, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, frustration building as you stood to walk towards the bathing room. Gripping your wrist, he halted you. “I will be right back, my love,” he promised; nodding, you gave him an anticipatory smile. Azriel met with Rhysand in his office, sharing all of the pertinent information until his High Lord was satisfied with the report. 
Once more, Azriel slipped away, back to your bedchambers; he found you waiting on the bed, lacy nightgown now covering your body, a cheshire grin on your face. Stalking towards you slowly, he discarded his shirt on the way, climbing up to hover over where you lay. “You’re back,” you smiled up at your mate. “I’m back,” he answered, dipping down to press a kiss to your temple, your cheekbone, the corner of your mouth. Having been left frustrated, unfulfilled, from the prior two interruptions, you were not on board with the slow pace he was setting. Crashing your lips into his, you reached your hands around his back, digging your nails into his shoulders. As your bodies connected, his hips pressing into yours you moaned into the kiss. “Gods, I missed you,” he reiterated his earlier sentiment, and you laughed into the kiss as your lips resumed their dance. As his hand began to trail down your chest, a squeal sounded outside your door, followed by light, repetitive raps on the wood. “Y/N, are you in there? I bought you something at the market today!” Mor yelled, excitedly. The pair of you deflated at the third intrusion of the evening. “Cauldron boil me,” you whined, pouting. “That’s it,” Azriel concurred, expression steely as he sat up, gripping your hand as his shadows swarmed, winnowing you out of the room. The two of you materialized out of darkness directly into your bedchambers at the Moonstone Palace; not a single soul present in the massive structure save for the two of you. Now, finally and truly alone, Azriel turned to you. Beaming up at him, you purred, “Where were we?”
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gh0stsp1d3r · 5 months
Text
𝒫𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓃ℯ𝓇 𝒾𝓃 𝒸𝓇𝒾𝓂ℯ
Warnings: villain couple, they murder children, young!william, and young!reader in the beginning(imagine him as Stu), older!reader and older!william towards the end, character death, angst, blood, spring lock scene
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The 80’s
The breeze nipped at your skin, you hadn’t expected it to be so cold. William came behind you, putting a jacket on.
“You really went back to the house just for a jacket?”
He looked back at the house still in view. “It’s right there.” He grabbed your hand, slipping it into his own. You both walked down the road.
It was rare for moments like these between you to. He and you were usually stuffing children in suits at the moment, which, I guess was also pretty romantic.
You were a bit younger than him, only a few years. It raised some suspicion among people, but you were both adults, so to you, it didn’t matter.
“I want a kid.” You brought up one time, he looked at you with wide eyes.
“I… maybe.” He smiled at the thought now when he looked back on it.
You both had created Freddy’s together, along with some help from Henry, but he wasn’t important.
———-
Now
“I don’t get why you haven’t knocked it down yet.” You asked him one day, while he collected some files from his fake job counseling job. He looked up at you with a small smile.
“Guess you could say I’m sentimental.”
“Well, did you find anyone?”
He sighed “Yeah. This guy, Mike, has a little sister. He’s desperate for anything.” He stood up, and you both walked outside.
“Well, I’m sure they’ll love her.” You kissed his cheek.
“I’m sure they will.”
“You know, I find it really crazy on how we still haven’t gotten caught yet, with everything that’s happened.”
He turned his head to look at you “Don’t tell me you’re getting scared now.” He raised an eyebrow.
You shook your head. “No. As long as I have you, I’ll be fine.”
“That’s right.” He laughed quietly, as you both continued to walk down the street together.
———-
You knew something was wrong, he was taking longer than usual. Your legs bounced in the car as you tried to wait, but you couldn’t. You got out the car, shutting the door quietly.
“That’s enough! Drop the knife.” Vanessa said, holding a gun in front of him.
“Vanessa..?” You mumbled out, slipping inside.
They all turned to you now.
“I thought I told you to wait in the car.” He pointed to knife at you, his modulated voice wasn’t very pleasant to listen to.
“Mom..?”
“This isn’t about her.” He grumbled out, trying to take any attention off of you, so that you weren’t in danger as well.
“You may have forgotten your loyalties, but I assure you they have not.” He threw the mask across the floor, and you looked at the little girl who screamed her brothers name, running up to him.
“Now, put that thing away and help me and your mom clean up the mess you created!” He shouted.
“Come on.” He chuckled, walking towards her slowly. “We both know you’re not gonna use a…”
She shot him, making him groan. Then she looked at you. She pointed it at you then, you without anything to protect you.
You slowly walked towards her as well, making her back up too. She was scared, of you both.
“You wouldn’t.” You said, william stood back and watched with a raised eyebrow.
“You don’t know me. You did nothing for me.”
“I raised you. I did.. everything for you. We did everything for you. This is how you repay us?”
She pointed her gun back at William who was now walking towards you again, he put a hand on your shoulder.
“I’ll take it from here.” He mumbled in your ear, you walked away. He swung at her gun, knocking it to the floor.
“You had one job. One. Keep him in the dark, and kill him if he got too close.”
“That’s two jobs.”
He started to choke her, you stared in shock at the scene.
Disrespectful. She was being disrespectful. How dare she say you did nothing for her? She deserved what would happen, now.
He looked at the little girl who was drawing a picture. You grabbed the girl before she could put it up, making her drop it to the floor. He stopped choking Vanessa, dropping her to the floor as well as you put a knife to the girls throat.
“No!” Vanessa grabbed your arm, making the knife clatter as well.
“Let go, Vanessa.”
“I won’t let you hurt her, too.”
William came up and stabbed her without her realizing, your eyes widened. He stared at her solemnly for a moment, before looking up at the girl you had accidentally let slip.
You were shocked, as you stared at the daughter you and William had created. Did she deserve it?
He ran towards the girl who was now putting her picture back up.
“Hey. Hey.” He said, standing back.
The lights crackled, and went out. You looked back at the two, standing up now.
“What have you done?” He said.
A spotlight was shown on the picture, of the yellow rabbit holding a knife, a girl beside him with one as well. A girl looking like you.
The animatronics walked towards the picture, looking at it as they all looked at you both. They started to walk towards you both.
“They can see you now. They know what you did.”
“Move. Move!” William yelled to them, shielding you behind himself. The lights blinded you both.
“Mike!” Abby ran over to him.
“Look at you. Look at the nasty things you have become. Look how small you are, how worthless you are. You are wretched, rotten, little beasts! We made you!”
The cupcake flew towards him, it ripped apart the suit and the spring locks locked in on his skin. You gasped when you realized. You fell to the floor in front of him as he let out pained breaths.
It felt like your worst nightmare was coming true.
“Will. Will.” You cried out, gripping his shoulders. Sobs filled his ears,he looked at you. “I love you. I love you.” You mumbled, desperately gripping onto the man.
“I love you.” He mumbled quietly, sounding like he was in pain. Reaching for his mask, he turned to them now.
“I always come back.”
——
Also did I seriously write this at 4 am in the morning instead of sleepin? Yeah
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planetnini · 6 months
Text
ONE — MAYBE I COULD FIX HIM ?
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with the week you're having, you don't have it in you anymore to deal with anymore bullshit and take it out on your asshole of a roommate gojo satoru (3.8k words)
content. cheating (we don’t do the cheating), named ex: hiroto, shoko is an extremely good judge of character, geto suguru the man that you are, gojo is a bit of an asshole, reader goes off at the end (rightfully so) <33
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Whoever said that if you do what you love, you'll never work another day in your life was a liar. Sure it was a well-meaning sentiment and while it filled your soul with some semblance of hope on some days, it was the main reason you were struggling with your degree and drowning in work. 
So much for dreaming big…
“What’s got your panties in a twist?” the girl questioned. The smoke from her cigarette created an odour that permeated the air as you let out a sigh, leaning back on the wall.
“That shit’s gonna kill you one day.” you muttered moving your head toward the cigarette in between her fingers as you turned your attention to the scene in front of you, waiting for her to finish.
“Make sure I have a nice funeral.” she chuckled before puffing out a cloud of smoke as she pulled the cigarette away from her mouth. When you didn't laugh at her comment, she just stared at you. Your eyes were closed and breathing a little jagged as she observed. Did you think she wouldn't notice?
Ieriri does not reveal much about herself, but everyone that was friends with her knew she was deathly loyal and cared for her friends in a unique way. She put the stick up to her mouth inhaling as she spoke, "You look like shit.” 
“You know how my afternoon lectures are.” she sighed.
She put out her cigarette in the ashtray bin and tucked her hands into her pocket. She was not at all convinced by your story. 
“Hold it Missy.” she demanded and of course your feet stopped in its tracks before her, “Tell me what’s wrong now.”
“I’ve been hearing things about Hiroto.”
You don’t think you’ve met someone that hated Hiroto more than your best friend herself. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as you mentioned your boyfriend or as she called him ‘he-who-must-not-be-named’. She crossed her arms over her chest and sighed, her lips pulling into a pout. She always had a thing for the dramatics.
"What else is new? Hiroto is a scumbag."
"Ieiri!" you scolded, frowning at her choice of words. 
She scoffed with a shrug before she linked your arms in hers and started walking toward the cafe. You had no idea what she had against Hiroto. He was the most popular guy in your university, and he was the one everyone wanted to be with, but it came as a surprise when he chose you. He had eyes for you, and you couldn't understand why anyone would want you of all people so he asked you out one day and you didn't have the heart to say no. Even if you had liked him at the time, which you didn’t, you still couldn't have said no, it would have been an opportunity wasted. He wasn’t the nicest guy but you would say he treated you well so you defended him every time.
“I still don't understand what you see in him.”
You smiled faintly, “As much as you doubt him, he really does care about me."
You could tell that Ieiri didn’t approve. She never made her opinion on him a secret, and you don’t expect her to start now. 
She rolled her eyes again and sighed, "Yeah, well you should really find someone better, like a certain someone."
It was your turn to roll your eyes at the thought of who she was referring to: a certain white haired roommate of yours. 
“I hope you’re not trying to suggest who I think you are?” you stated as she gave you a sly smirk before shrugging.
“Have things with Satoru been better?”
You paused, contemplating on how to respond as you both walked into the cafe. You turned your attention to the menu as you stood in line. Your eyes scanned over the pamphlet you received when you walked in as you also looked at the assortment of baked goods and pastries. 
"I still can't quite figure him out." you muttered as you stared at some of the menu items.
Her curiosity was piqued as you said this, already knowing what she would order as she stared at you now. "What's he up to now?" she asked.
When you got to university, you opted to follow your dreams and your heart and while you looked forward to finishing your degree, reaching your dreams and goals was expensive, which was something you had known as a teen. It explained why you had to get a job that definitely does not pay minimum wage and why you had to room with Satoru Gojo, as per Ieiri’s request, just to be able to do what you love.
At first, you had thanked Ieiri for convincing the prestigious Gojo Satoru to be your roommate at the start but when he moved in, you were less than grateful.
Gojo Satoru was a scion of a wealthy and successful family making him the epitome of privilege: rich, handsome, and effortlessly at the top of his class without ever needing to study– he pretty much had everything handed to him on a silver platter. 
The first few months were turbulent, to say the least. Gojo acted like a spoiled prince, which was not surprising, always expecting things to be done for him and showing little regard for your personal space or boundaries. Arguments were frequent and inevitable but you shouldn't be complaining, he was the one paying most of the rent. 
Entitlement dripped from his every pore but then something shifted. With you trying to assert your own space and independence against his behaviour and actions, it was as though he had picked up on your growing frustration and decided to turn over a new leaf or whatever. 
It started with small gestures- he'd clean up after himself, occasionally ask if you needed anything from the store, and even helped out with chores around the apartment. These moments, though rare, caught you off guard. You couldn't help but wonder if it was all an act, a facade he put on simply because you were sharing a living space. Deep down, you were convinced that the 'nice' Gojo was just a pretence to keep the peace.
Yet, there were times when you couldn't ignore the fact that he seemed genuinely concerned about you, though these moments were fleeting– hidden beneath layers of sarcasm and his usual arrogance.
“He is just utterly unpredictable." you sighed as you put a hand over your eyes in frustration.
"Sounds like Satoru." she chuckled.
“I don’t know, it just feels like he’s nice to me because I’m friends with you.”
Shoko raised an eyebrow, a hint of concern in her eyes. "Are you saying he's being fake around you because of our friendship?"
"Yeah, sometimes it feels that way. Like he's just putting on a show."
Shoko's lips pulled into a small frown, her eyebrows knitting together, "That doesn't sound like him at all. Maybe he's just trying to be friends with you."
You had been so focused on the topic at hand, you hadn't realised you were at the front of the line.
You shrugged, "It's probably nothing.”
"Stop thinking about Satoru, you’re holding up the line." she scoffed as she smiled at the cashier.
You gave the worker an apologetic smile before turning to the person behind you, "Sorry, about that."
After ordering your favourite drink and some pastries, you approached a small table to sit. “I don’t know. I mean I guess Gojo and I are friends but still, I’m a bit suspicious.”
“I don’t think he would do something like that for my sake.”
"It just feels like you're trying to get him on my good side, I wonder why that is." you hummed with a tilt of your head, raising your brows at her.
"I think my best friend just deserves someone better." she shrugged with a pout.
"And Gojo is 'someone better'?" you scoffed.
Her hesitance was telling and you could see the gears shifting in her head, "That's like asking if apple juice is better than orange juice."
You rolled your eyes at her and looked around the café. The coffee beans alongside the soft humming of the machine, muffled speaking, jazz that played through the speakers really defined the atmosphere. Perhaps this place would become a regular study spot if they nailed just how you liked your drinks. 
“Thank you for coming with me by the way.”
“No problem.”
You had a small smile on your lips as Ieiri decided to fold the receipt she had in her hand into origami, your eyes leisurely scanned over the cafe's charming layout but then, as fate would have it, your heart suddenly felt like it had been gripped by an icy hand, causing it to skip a beat.
The cafe that once felt spacious now seemed to shrink around you, constricting your senses. Your gaze, once idly roaming the room, had fixated on an all-too-familiar figure.
There, amidst the warm, cosy ambiance of the cafe, sat Hiroto. He was not alone. He was sitting across from another girl, their faces close. A rare smile was etched across his features, who was she to be able to make him look at her like that? He had never looked at you that way… 
Maybe it was a friend?
Ieiri, perceptive as ever, noticed the abrupt change in your expression. Her eyes followed your gaze instinctively, and when she locked onto what you were seeing, her face transformed from one of carefree enjoyment to sheer disbelief and anger. 
Their smiles were flirtatious and you could feel the creeping feeling of fear settle in your bones.
They were completely engrossed in each other, oblivious to the world around them as they leaned in for a kiss. Definitely not a friend.
Ieiri was right. He was a scumbag.
Your mind couldn't quite grasp what was unfolding before your eyes, reality not even seeming real for a second.
Confrontation was the last thing on your mind. You didn't want to cause a scene, not here, not now, even if every fibre of your being screamed for justice.
Shoko's fingers tightened around her origami creation, crumpling it as her anger flared up. Her eyes locked onto the two with an intensity that could have scorched the room. 
She had always been vocal about her disdain for him, and this seemed like the perfect moment to let it all out. Without hesitation, Shoko started to push her chair back, her intention clear: she was going to confront Hiroto, give him a piece of her mind, and let the whole café know about his deceit. To berate him for everything he did to you, everything he did that you were too blind to see. You sat there in silence, your heart heavy with disbelief and betrayal but instinctively your hand reached out for hers. You shook your head ever so slightly, silently pleading with her not to make a scene.
“We can't just let him get away with this." she whispered back, her frustration growing by the minute.
Shoko's anger was palpable, and her lips quivered with the words she wanted to unleash but she respected your unspoken plea, if only for now, and reluctantly sank back into her chair waiting for your order number to be called out. Once you received the drinks and pastries, the two of you continued walking back to your shared apartment, the weight of the situation heavy on your mind as a tear slipped from your eyes. You had no goddamn appetite now.
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The evening had taken an unsettling turn for you. After returning from a troubling encounter at the café that you wished you could just forget, you found yourself back in your cosy apartment that you shared with the Satoru Gojo, the most popular boy on campus.
As you pushed off your shoes and set them by the door, you overheard some of Gojo's friends chatting in the main area. Forcing a smile, you greeted the people in the room as Ieiri followed behind you, making her presence known as she greeted them as well. You placed the bag of pastries on the table, knowing that for certain, Gojo would inhale them when he got his hands on them.
“Hey, do you have a smoke?” Geto asked Ieiri as he looked over his shoulder. Next thing you knew, Geto had moved to sit across from you at the island counter while you sipped at your glass of water, mind wandering back to your jerk of a boyfriend. “How are you?” he inquired, patiently waiting for your response.
“I’m alright, thanks,” you mumbled, trying to muster a genuine smile in response to his concern. 
Geto waved a hand in front of your face as your thoughts drifted. Suddenly, you were locked into eye contact with him. Leaning down to eye level, he asked, “You sure you’re okay? You look a bit tired,” a playful chuckle escaping his lips.
You sighed a little before shaking your head resolutely, “Just had a terrible fucking week.”
Geto chuckled, “Tell me about it.” he scoffed, commiserating with your struggles. Although he didn’t know the full story, it didn’t matter, you were seen for a second and it felt good, "I swear they have it out for us."
Ieiri was best friends with both Gojo and Geto in high school. You never really understood their dynamic at all but the brief interactions shared with Geto had been enough for you to come up with a comprehensive answer. 
Many people around had said that Geto was like the sun personified, radiating this warmth and light wherever he went. His presence had an undeniable magnetic quality, drawing people toward him but he could leave an indelible mark on anyone in his presence. It was quite possible that what was true, made you smile a little.
Gojo's friends continued their lively chatter, sharing stories and laughter and it wasn’t until you heard the tap turn on that you realised Gojo is standing right next to you drinking water aswell.
“Hey. You smoking or what? I don’t have all day, Suguru,” Shoko chimed in, her voice cutting through the conversation.
“That shit will kill you one day Suguru.” he muttered next to you.
“Funny. You said the same thing to me today.” Ieiri commented and you could feel all their gazes land on you.
“I guess we’re a lot alike.” Gojo joked and you feel yourself smile at his words as Geto and Shoko shared a look.
Geto cleared his throat, a hand coming up to your shoulder, “Things will get better, I promise.” he smiled as both he and Shoko exited the apartment for their smoke.
The atmosphere inside the apartment shifted slightly as you were left alone in the kitchen with Gojo.
“What was that about?” he spoke, regarding the comment that Geto had just made. 
You turned your attention to Gojo and shook your head dismissively, “It’s nothing.”
“You sure? You can talk to me, you know?”
“I know,” you nodded, “It’s nothing, really.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” he took another sip of his water. 
You paused for a moment, “If I knew you had guests over, I would've brought them some as well.” you stated, pointing at the pastries from the café in the bag.
Gojo raised an eyebrow with a smirk. "So those pastries are for me?" he inquired, his playful tone evident.
"Don't push it." you scoffed, your heart warming at his teasing for just a second. There is suddenly a nagging feeling that tells you he is just being nice to you due to the circumstances.
You clear your throat as you tear your gaze away from him, "Are your friends staying for dinner? If they are, I might skip."  You weren’t exactly feeling like yourself, and would rather not be spending time around people you hardly knew. You were just getting warmed up to the man next to you anyways.
“They’re not staying over. Even if they were, I don't really encourage skipping meals.” Gojo replied, his tone shifting between genuine concern and playfulness.
You can’t even force yourself to smile at his concern, you wanted to keep the discussion going, but your recent experience at the café had left you feeling on edge. "I guess I’ll see you at dinner then." you teased, your playful tone masking the underlying curiosity you had about his intentions. Did he truly want to be friends with you or was he doing it just out of pity? 
He nodded at you and you retreated back into your room to grab some clothes but the voices of his friends drifted into your ears.
“Was that Hiroto’s girlfriend?”
“Yeah.” you heard the familiar white haired boy reply.
Their conversation had been about you, and you knew it. Trying to push yourself to stop them from eavesdropping, you shook your head and continued at finding some comfortable clothes for tonight. You needed to do something to take your mind off the events from earlier.
"Wait, seriously? I thought he was dating someone else."
Their words cast a shadow over your thoughts and only amplified your bad mood. You clenched your fists, trying to push down the mixture of anger and hurt.
“I don’t know how she’s still with him.”
The weight of their judgement had hit you harder than ever, especially after what you had witnessed earlier. As you contemplated confronting them about it, you could hear the hushed murmurs growing louder, escalating your frustration as a couple of voices interject. 
“She’s kind of pathetic. Don’t you think so?”
You weren't ready to hear them belittle you any further, so you decided to retreat to the sanctuary of the shower, hoping the water would wash away the bitterness. 
You turned on the water, stepping into the shower trying to drown out the sound of their voices echoing in your head. You wished you hadn't noticed how little effort Gojo made to defend you. Perhaps you were wrong to think the two of you were friends to begin with and considering his track record, maybe you shouldn’t have been so lenient to think he was different.
As you emerged from the shower, refreshed but still vulnerable, you were in the confines of your room as you messaged Shoko about what had happened. You knew she would give her a piece of her mind when she saw him next. You laid in bed, letting out some breaths steadying your heartrate as you heard Gojo call for you from outside your door. You weren't prepared for this, not after what you just heard between him and his friends.
With your emotions still raw and your nerves on edge, you slowly opened the door to find Gojo standing there, his usual confident demeanour softened.
His presence in the dimly lit hallway was both comforting and disconcerting. You met his gaze, your eyes holding a mixture of anxiety and frustration.
Gojo's voice was gentle but laced with concern as he spoke, "I sent my friends home.”
You nodded, not even bringing it in yourself to even berate him for being an absolute asshole to you when he thought you weren’t listening.
“I noticed you've been quiet since you got home. Is everything okay? Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?"
Your emotions, a turbulent whirlwind of hurt and anger, surged within you. With a deep breath, you finally found your voice, but your words came out sharp and accusatory, "I don't appreciate it Gojo," you began, your tone wavering but determined, "I know what you and your friends say about me when you think I'm not listening."
Gojo's brows furrowed in confusion. "What?"
"Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about," you continued, your voice quivering with anger.
You could see Gojo's expression shift from confusion to realisation, and a pang of regret flickered in his eyes. His usually playful demeanour had vanished, replaced by a sombre and sincere expression.
"I'm sorry," he finally whispered, his voice sincere but unsure of how to proceed.
You felt tears well up in your eyes replaying the pain of your boyfriend cheating on you and the callous things they said behind your back. The disappointment of his apology settled in- he’s only sorry because he got caught. 
“That was the last thing I expected from you.” you spat out. "I thought…” you let out a deep breath, your words hanging with every ounce of pain that you’d felt today. You shook your head as you continued, “I thought we were friends."
"We are." he declared, his eyes wavering now. With guilt or concern, you couldn't tell but you knew he didn't really care.
"We're not." you emphasised, still burning with the fury of all the events that transpired today. "Every day, I see you look at me with those eyes that say how pathetic you think I look."
Gojo's brow furrowed in frustration with himself. He wanted to say the right words, to offer comfort, but he struggled to find them. He stepped a little closer, his hands outstretched towards you. You stepped back, your heart pounding erratically, and he instantly retreated.
“You have no idea how much it hurts but I guess I shouldn’t have trusted you to begin with.”
Without giving him a chance to speak, you shut the door with trembling hands. You felt a thud against the door on the opposite end and you could hear him muttered a few curse words as you slid down the surface defeatedly.
His face that was etched with guilt and regret. That look was embedded in your head as you let the tears slip down your face. He gave a resigned sigh before turning away and trudging off towards the kitchen to make dinner– alone.
You stayed in your room until you heard the door to his room close after a couple hours of distracting yourself: with studying, messaging Shoko how much you hated Gojo, and cleaning your room. Retreating from your bedroom as quietly as you can, you see a plate of food he made for you wrapped up with a small post it note on your favourite drink next to it.
I know you're still mad at me, but I hope you don’t skip dinner. Eat well, you'll need the strength... ᕙ(‾̀◡‾́)ᕗ
You scoffed at his note, scrunching it up, putting it in your pocket. It was all just lip-service.
As you sat there alone, your eyes welled up with tears, and you could feel your composure slipping away. The weight of the day became too much to bear. Your heart ached, the hurt and betrayal coursing through you as you sobbed softly.
What a terrible fucking week.
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tags! @stsgluver @pandoraium @cottonheadedninnymugggins @satoryaa @bbyxxm @itsthemodelinme @sattosugu
notes. this is not proofread. i don't think the last half of this is as good but... we move!!! i'm sick and wanted to give back with the first chapter since i have some free time to write now <3 it gets better i promise, please comment and give me some love (or feedback), thank you :)
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