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#bratty!reader
jeonsalibi · 8 days
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begging for mercy
characters: tattoo artist!jungkook x client!female reader
summary: you hated everything. you hated his face, his hands, his everything. in particular, you hated the effect he had on you.
genre/rating: pwp. smut (minors dni). 18+.
word count: 4.6k
warnings: needles, jungkook being a lil shit, hands <3, reader hating her life decisions. smut warnings (18+): so much tension, consent, dirty talk galore, pet names, semi-public sex, pain kink, cumming untouched :0, slight cnc?, dom/sub dynamics, slightly mean dom!jk, bratty reader, slapping/spanking, orgasm denial, choking, tad bit of degradation, cum play/eating, finger sucking, unprotected sex (do better), standing sex, hitting it from behind :P, bitting/marking, overstimulation, creampie, jungkook is a cutie lmao (bless him).
a/n: after you read this, you will realise i have no idea what getting a tattoo entails lmao. this is just smut with a sprinkle of more smut. hands are my weakness. sorry :) also, thank you so much for over a hundred followers <3 this whole thing is crazy. feedback is always appreciated so please let me know what you think! what other tropes would you like? disclaimer: i needed to get this out of my system. this was suppose to be short fic, got carried away.
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Maybe this situation wasn’t ideal. Scrape that, it was definitely not ideal. But there were a few variables that contributed to your current state of helplessness.
Firstly, the room was freezing as if they wanted to torture your exposed skin. You swore you had frostbite. Now that problem was partially your fault. They had asked you before they began if the temperature was okay, and because you refused to be a bother, you didn’t dare ask them to turn the heating up.
Oh and then there was the pain of the needle being darted into your skin. The other times you sat in this chair, you had no issues with discomfort. But what did you expect, the needle was digging into your ribcage. Oh, yeah, and the worst part, you liked it. A little bit too much.
But the killer were his hands. Now this, was definitely not your fault.
The parlor you had booked was one of the best in the city. And it took months to get in. Unfortunately, the lovely lady you had met for your consultation was out due to a sudden illness. Which left you with two options. Either wait for another three months, or allow Jungkook to do it today. You were mentally prepared for today to be the day, so fuck it, Jungkook it was.
But that was a grave mistake.
It was a big mistake, and in hindsight, you should have waited three months. His gloved hands were everywhere. They touched every inch.
They had touched your back when they guided you into his office. Grazed your thigh when he leaned over to grab a sterile wipe. The back of your neck when they helped you find a comfortable position on the bed. Wrapped around your wrist to lift your arm across your body to give them the necessary access. And now, they were all over your abdomen, pushing and pulling to ensure the accuracy of the needle.
Want to know what pissed you off the most. The consent. ‘Is it okay if I touch this?’ or the ‘can I place my hand here?’. You could’ve said no. Could’ve made his life a living hell. But you genuinely never thought you would ever be this turned on by just hands.
Although you could not see the skin that decorated their stature, you could make out all the pretty features from under the thin black latex. A large palm attached to the longest fingers you have ever seen, joined by sharp knuckles. The digits were thick but incredibly agile.
Let’s not get started on those arms. The coloured ink that ran along its length, your eyes couldn’t stop tracing the outlines. You thanked the higher powers that his biceps were covered by his oversized shirt. But due to his hard grip on the machine, you could see the veins that protruded through his skin.
On top of all that, he had a ridiculously sculpted face. So fucking pretentious. How could someone be so handsome? The strong jawline, the perfect nose, those siren eyes. Even his hair, slicked back, allowing you to admire every detail. It was like he wanted you to know you were in the presence of a fucking god.
And you would be selling your soul to that religion. You swore to worship him until death. No hesitation. Okay, you were done for.
Afraid you were staining the chair below you, you crossed your legs, throwing one thigh over the other.
That stupid eyebrow piercing mocked you, perking up at the action. His tongue poked at his cheek. “You good?”
You hummed, knowing if you let your lips relax, a very inappropriate sound would escape. “Use your words gorgeous. If you are uncomfortable we can take a break.”
The compliment shot straight to your core. The sensation forcing you to shut your eyes. This was utterly embarrassing. You felt pathetic. You just wanted to get out of the place. “No. Keep going.” You gritted.
“Are you sure pretty? It’s okay, I know it hurts. The area is very sensitive—“ “Shut up. Please. Get it over with.”
He was taken aback by your sudden attitude, already missing the good girl that lay before him moments ago. “Hm, okay big girl. Only a few more lines.”
“Those nicknames need to stop.” You pleaded quietly and he just smirked. The audacity.
“Okay, I’ll stop sorry. Just a habit.” He promised, placing a hand on your stomach as he leaned forward to proceed. “I’ll work quickly. Just breathe for me.”
Inhaling, you tried to focus. The pen touched your skin, vibrating against your bones. You whimpered. “Shush, it’s okay. Nearly there.” He encouraged, pressing down on your stomach to distract you from it.
The thoughts immediately flooded your mind. Of him, above you, hand on your lower tummy as he moved his hips against you. “Doing so good.” He continued to praise.
Toes curling, fingernails digging into your palms, you genuinely didn’t think you were going to survive. Nose scrunched as you battled the images but it was no use. The pain, the man, your imagination. Your orgasm prevailed. A miniature wave crashed through your body.
Your bottom lip was attacked by your teeth, thighs tightened, and breath shaky. This was humiliating. Although you tried your best to hide it, you knew Jungkook knew.
He let out a dry cough, pink tongue slipping between his thin lips to wet the surface before playing with the silver metal in the corner of his mouth. It was obvious that he was concealing a laugh.
Eyes began to water. Something like this never happened to you before. You didn’t know how to respond. The last thing you needed to hear was his smug voice. “All done. Look so pretty.”
Unable to look at the man, you kept your eyes closed, sitting up, hands frantically moving to try and pull down your shirt. “Wait, wait! You need aftercare. It could get infected.”
His voice was stern, his hands grabbing yours. They stopped your panicked motions. Wanting to turn into ashes, you turned your head away from him as your cheeks heated. Your skin was burning at the contact. You felt so small.
“Hey, I promise it is natural. You don’t need to be embarrassed, it happens to more people than you think. I promise pretty.”
“I am so sorry. I couldn’t, uh, stop it.”
You sounded so tiny, Jungkook had to ground himself. Wanting to pounce. He was doing well until your little slip-up. The minute he saw you at the reception desk in that short pleated olive skirt, and white tank, he wanted you. It was a sin. Sinful how beautiful you looked. “It’s okay, let me take care of you now. Let me wrap it.”
Nodding, you kept your elbow raised signalling for him to continue. Grabbing a tub from the stainless steel table, he popped the lid, fingers dipping into the substance. “This is going to be cold. Okay?”
Gulping, you braced yourself. He delicately presssd his hand across your freshly inked skin, the coolness of the vaseline made you whimper. Jungkook, leaned closer, breathing hot air on the area to help balance the temperature. “Better?”
You immediately shrunk, body fell into his words. Hypnotising you. “Yes.”
“Good girl.”
Intoxicated by his presence, you didn’t even realised he finished up, placing a bandage over your rib. His words were drowned out, you were spaced out. Head on a cloud. A sudden hand on your knee grabbed your attention. “You good?
You snapped your eyes towards him, begging for mercy. The contact on your knee was warm but rough. You immediately noticed the difference from the previous touches, the smooth latex barrier was gone.
Slowly, your gaze drifted, body stiffened when you saw the anticipated honey-glazed hand. Black marks littered it, small tattoos randomly spaced amongst the vast surface. So much prettier than you imagined. Veins galore. Your throat was dry, chest pounding.
“I need you to listen. It is important.” His deep voice emphasised. “I don’t want you to get hurt.” You were sick of it. All of the innuendos. The not-so-innocent comments. “Can you do that for me?”
“Yes.” You replied as your eyes slowly, seductively, met his. And then it just slipped out.
“Sir.”
The grip tightened, cheeks hollowed as he sucked his tongue. His memorising gaze traced your body, shamelessly stopping at your chest. You knew your nipples were hard and very visible through your white tee. They had been since you entered into the cold room.
His hand crawled higher, fingers tracing your exposed mid thigh. “Where did that come from pretty girl?”
Your head dropped down to your lap, looking down avoiding his piercing stare. Your fingers tingled, begging to reach out for his. “I don’t know.”
“Look at me.”
His harsh voice caused you to wince. But you didn’t want to disobey. “I need you to look at me when you answer me. If you want this, you need to keep your gorgeous eyes on me. Understood?”
“Yes” you nodded.
Clearing his throat, he leaned down, lips grazed your ear. “Are you forgetting a word?”
Feeling like you were about to faint, head dizzy, your hand flung to his shirt. It grabbed the material around his bicep, clutching it to hold you steady. “Sir.”
“Good girl.” He growled against your earlobe. His tongue slipped along the outline, teeth scraped the surface. “Now baby, let me tell you how this is going to happen.”
You whimpered, tucking your head into the crook of his neck. He cradled your head, his fingers spread wide along your scalp. His grip on the roots was intense as he pulled, snapping your neck back, giving you nowhere to hide. He smirked, admiring how pliant you looked in his grace.
“The minute you came to me today, you had me so hard. All I could think about was what I wanted to do to you. Fuck you look so gorgeous. Then you decided to torture me by making me tattoo your ribs.”
Straightening his posture, lip tucked between his teeth, he removed the hand from your hair, trailing it along the tank's strap. “Lifting this flimsy top to give me access. Barely covering your tits. Could see your underboob the entire time. Such a tease. Was that nice of you?”
Your knees bent, needing some friction. His harsh grip still present on your thigh. “No sir.”
He growled. You looked so pathetically beautiful. A lustful gaze in your eyes, body radiating warmth, and breath uneven. Unraveling below him.
“That’s right, it wasn’t nice. So I want you on all fours now.”
Fuck his lower register. It resonated deep within you, forcing you to comply to his order. Your body just reacted. Scrambling, you quickly rushed to place your knees and palms on the leather bed.
Jungkook placed a gentle hand on your lower back, steadying you. “Woah, be careful.” He reminded you as he brought his lips to his covered tattoo, kissing the fresh bandage.
This can’t be fucking real. How is he so sweet yet so demanding.
Your knees buckled, back collapsed to cause your elbows to fall. He immediately grasped your hips to help you regain some balance. “So excited baby. Barely touched you.” He huffed. The tone was mocking you.
“You touched me plenty.” You sassed between gritted teeth.
The hands slid down to the back of your thighs. His wide palms teasing your ass. “Is that right? So you don’t want me to touch you anymore?”
Pushing your hips back against his touch, you whined. “Oh you do? So desperate.”
You heard him move behind you. Hands fidgeting with your skirt as he positioned himself. Your breath hitched, knowing he had a perfect view of your sticky panties between your thighs. The skirt did nothing to help hide them. He hummed in appreciation.
“So fucking gorgeous.” His digits hovering your heat. “We don’t have much time okay? I am going to touch you now. You gotta keep that pretty voice down for me.”
You huffed in frustration. “Got to make me raise my voice first.”
Jungkook growled at your brattiness. In one swift movement, a hand smacked against the exposed skin. Gasping, your chest fell to press against the warm leather. “Let’s get one thing clear doll, you don’t talk back to me like that. I don’t want to punish you. Not today anyways. Understood?”
“Yes sir.”
“Good girl. The best girl. Let me have some fun now. Let me get a taste. If you don’t like anything, tell me to stop okay?”
Whimpering, your heat was pulsing. You needed him, his hands, his tongue, his cock. “Please sir, want it. Want you.”
He sensed your desperation, your neediness. Not denying you any longer, his hands flipped your skirt over your hips. Lips gravitated to your covered core. Tongue poking out to get a taste.
Needing friction, you pushed your hips back against his face. Wincing, you prepared yourself for a spank, but he reacted, pushing back. Hands hooked around your thighs, a strong grip keeping you in place.
He was eating you through your panties. Tongue messy as it explored your folds. You were whimpering and whining, as he continued to tease. He knew that you needed skin-on-skin contact, practically begging for it with your quaking thighs. You could feel him smile against your core. This was cruel. And he knew it.
“I know baby.” He purred, the vibration strong against you. “But you couldn’t be patient could you?”
“I’m sorry, please.” You begged, voice cracking.
Jungkook began to leave a trail of sloppy kisses from your core to the waistband of your panties. He delicately scraped his teeth against your skin, gathering the fabric in his mouth. You moaned, anticipating what he was going to do next.
The material was trailed down your skin, his lips glazing your skin as he finally exposed your wet folds to the cold air. Jungkook took a step back to groan at the sight. Wet, glossy lips, panties bunched around your knees, your ass exposed and perky. His cock throbbed under his jeans. “So delicious. Need a proper taste.”
He dived back in, tongue divulging between your lips. Licking and slurping your juices. His lips slipped down to your clit, sucking the sensitive, neglected bud. His tongue worked relentlessly against you, devouring your essence. Hands caressed the meaty flesh on your ass, playfully squeezing and grabbing.
You were creeping towards the edge, stomach tightening and fists curling into a ball. Your sounds were getting louder, your voice becoming horse. He gave your cheek a harsh slap, warning you to quieten down.
“More.” You cried, right at the peak.
Giving a wide lick up your slit, he stood up straight. “Would love you to come on my tongue, but I have another appointment in 15 minutes.”
His hold pulled you to the end of the bed, manhandling you. “Put your feet on the ground.” He grumbled, unbuckling his jeans.
Climbing down onto the ground, you placed your two feet firmly against the concrete. Wiggling your hips as you peeked over your shoulder, trying to find his touch. He chuckled, loving how needy you were. He threw a hand onto your hip, giving you a bit of attention as he pulled his pants down.
“God you are so pathetic doll.” He muttered. His cock was hard against his boxers. Pleading to be freed.
“Was so close, want to cum.”
“What about me baby? You are so cockdrunk, so desperate, you can’t even think about me? About my pleasure baby.” He spanked your red skin. “Don’t be selfish. If I wasn’t in such a rush, I would edge you until you cried for it to stop.”
A pathetic, tiny sound slipped through your lips. “Oh, you’d like that?” He asked, colliding his body into yours. A hand wrapped around your throat, causing your body to crash against his chest. Hips started to rotate into you, grinding his crotch. “You dirty little pain slut.”
His breath was warm against your ear causing you to shiver. “Play with that little clit for me baby, make sure you are nice and ready for me.” He softly whispered, grip rough against your neck.
Your fingertips began to rub harsh circles on your raw clit. His hips were rutting against you. His throbbing cock pushed into you, pulsating against your ass. Legs were weak as you felt his length. It felt so thick, so firm. You wanted to feel it inside you. Now.
“So wet for you. Please just give it to me.”
Voice was shaky, praying that he would give into your pleas. He bit your earlobe, grunting. The sounds were so enticing, so thrilling. You automatically started to rub faster, harder. Closer to edge.
“Give you what baby?” He teased, slipping his free into his briefs, pulling his member free. He traced the member along your ass, you could feel a wet trail form on the skin.
“Cock. Your cock.” You cried out, borderline screamed.
He squeezed your throat, not satisfied with your little outburst. “Baby, what did I tell you about keeping that voice of yours down?”
“Please, I can’t. Need it.”
“Fuck, I love how pathetic you are. Begging me to fuck you in my workplace. Such a perfect girl.” His hand left your throat, going south, to join yours. His fingers slipped through your drenched core. “Baby you weren’t lying. You are so wet. So ready.”
Your head relaxed against his shoulder, enjoying his touch. Memorised by the moment, his digits poked at your lips taking you by surprise. “Why don’t you go ahead and suck on them baby. I saw you looking at them all afternoon. Bet you were fantasing about them. Wouldn’t you just love to suck on them as I fuck you?”
Head dizzy, you couldn’t process his words. All you could do was part your lips and submit. His digits slipped in, and you gracefully and willingly wrapped your mouth around them. Hollowing your cheeks as you sucked, tasting yourself. So dirty, so erotic.
In a blissful daze, you barely noticed his hard tip poke at your entrance, sliding up and down your folds. Covering himself in you. “Baby, fuck, can I take you raw?”
You hummed, circling your tongue around his long thick digits. Fuck it, deal with the consequences later right?
Using his foot, he kicked your ankle, spreading your legs wide. Easy access. Positioning himself, he lined himself up with your aching core. If someone were to walk in, which was a real possibility, they would lay their eyes upon the most sinful image.
A girl, helplessly rubbing her clit, spit running down her chin as she mindlessly sucked on a beautiful tattooed hand. Ruined panties resting on her knees, legs trembling. Eyes shut tight with anticipation and nerves. Hopeless and vulnerable. It was messy, but beautiful.
Jungkook’s hips pushed forward, penetrating your awaiting walls. Load moans escaped you, thankfully, being muffled by his fingers. Each inch dug deeper and deeper. Filling you up,
You felt so full as his abdomen met your ass. His teeth sunk into your shoulder, trying to conceal his own pleasure. “So tight and warm.” He growled, nibbling and licking at the fresh bite mark.
The hand on your clit froze, brain trying to process the new feeling. He held his position, giving you time to adjust. But you were getting impatient. Needing to feel him penetrate you again.
You flung a hand behind you, fisting his shirt, pulling it towards you. Begging him to move. He complied, wanting to feel your walls convulse around him. “I know pretty thing, I’ll give it to you.”
And with that, the merciless pounding began. His hips snapped against you with an extreme forward, making you jump as he slammed against you. You were panting, brain malfunctioning.
The hand that was on your clit transferred to his wrist, scrapping the inked skin. He hissed at the sensation, giving you a particular hard thrust. “Did I tell you to stop touching yourself.”
You shook your head, releasing your hold on his shirt, bringing it to your front. “Good girl. Best fucking girl. Shit, you love praise don’t you. Sucking me in, barely able to fucking move.”
Tears were building up, the pleasure becoming overwhelming. The pace he set did not waver, abusing your silky walls continuously, endlessly. Your clit was overstimulated from all the rubbing. But it felt so good.
Your back arched, head fell back over his shoulder, as if you were being raised up to heaven. The knot in your stomach growing and growing, until it broke. Eyes rolled to the back of your head, teeth grazing his digits as you tried to silence yourself. “So tight. Clenching me. Are you cumming for me sweetie? What a good girl.”
His words caused you to levitate. You ripped yourself from his grasp collapsing onto the bed in front of you. He slowed his pace, concerned.
But you wanted more. “No one more, please. I want you to cum. Keep going. Kook, please.”
Your whines sent shivers down his spine. But if that’s what you want, that is what you get. A proper brat. “You asked for it. Dumb little girl.”
Palms pressed firmly into your lower back, his hips snapped again and again and again. Balls slapping against your thighs due to the sheer force. Your body sliding against the leather, the friction focused on your clit causing you to lose your mind.
You couldn’t function, no words could leave your mouth, only heavy pants. Your hands reached back, pressing against his lower stomach, feeling the hardness hidden under his shirt. Fuck. He was an actual god.
Jungkook let out a deep moan, throwing his head back as he cursed under his breath. “So good baby, so wet. So messy. Fucking perfect cunt for me. All mine.”
“Yours.”
He howled at your submission, grasping your wrist. “Mine. Chant it, baby, as you cum for me. As you milk me.”
Allowing your forehead to rest against the black chair, you cried as you did as he said. Chanting over and over again that you are his. The words travelled straight to his cock, ruthlessly throbbing against your suffocating walls.
Your body was floating, the pleasure flowing through your blood vessels. Your vision was blurring, knees buckling. “Cum.” It was the only word your vocabulary possesed.
Jungkook saw how your body shook, like a ticking time bomb. Knowing the explosion was going to be loud, he caged you in, hand clasping around your mouth. “That’s it cum for me.”
Everything hit you at once, completely consuming you. You squirmed and screamed as the feeling of an overwhelming peace washed over you. It was as if you left this planet. Everything felt so light, so quiet. You could hear your heart pound and ears ringing.
Jungkook held you tight, lips tucked into the crevice of your neck. Hushing and guiding you through your extreme high. His balls drummed, ready to release the pressure that had built up within.
He couldn’t breathe, your wet walls clamped around him. He winced trying to remove himself, his own cock overstimulated. Angry and begging for relief. “No in me, please. Want you to cum in me. Fill me.” You slurred.
His cock didn’t even give him the chance to confirm your request, combusting at your words. Sucking at the raw skin on your neck, ensuring he left a deep mark, he emptied himself. Overcome with pleasure himself.
Spurts of warm cum covered your walls, his moans vibrated against your skin. His cock pumped and dumped every last drop into you until all you could feel was him. All you could think about was him.
Both of you were in heaven. All you could do was cherish the moment. The feeling of being full and contempt.
You stayed like that for a few minutes, breathing heavily against one another. He was crushing you with his body. Finally gaining some strength, he started to pry his body away.
The feeling of his cum running down your thighs was evident, making you cringe. “This is a treat.” He muttered, licking his lips as his hands pulled your lips apart, giving him a front row view of the mess that leaked out.
“Messy, dirty.” You whined.
“Exactly what I like baby.”
Thighs clenched together at his words. The high beginning to crash away. He kissed your lower back, massaging your thighs and ass. “Come on, let’s clean up. My client will be here in a few minutes.”
Pouting, you rose from your position and faced him, legs shaking as you tried to find balance. He laughed, poking your cheek. “Cute.”
He walked over to his sterilised table to grab a towel. Realising that the whole studio heard you getting your brains blown out, you wanted to escape as fast as possible.
Using the last of your energy, you pulled up your panties, fixed your top, and wiped the remnants from your face with your palm. By the time Jungkook turned around, you were all fixed up. Apart from your hair. Which made him chuckle, it screamed ‘I just had sex’.
You stood there uncomfortable, feeling the stickiness between your thighs. You looked at him awkwardly, not knowing what you should say, should do. “Um, thanks. I should get going.”
His eyes bulged, wide like bambi. Before you could grab your bag, he reached out for your forearm. Stopping you. “Hey, um you sure you okay?”
His voice was completely different, soft and gentle. You gulped, nodding your head. “Yeah positive. Don’t want to hold you up any longer.” You smiled to reassure him.
“Oh, um one second.” His hands thread through your hair, fixing the rustled and knotted locks. Tucking pieces behind your ear. “Sorry, it was um a little messy.” He admitted, before he started to fix up his own appearance.
Fuck, he was so enchanting.
Once he sorted himself, he cleared his throat. “Are you sure you don’t want, um, a towel or anything?” He offered with a small smile.
“It’s fine, it’s not that bad.” You shrugged, flattening your skirt.
“Maybe you just like it.” He smirked, trailing his eyes down your body. The comment made your cheeks heat up.
Maybe he wasn’t wrong.
“Yeah okay, I’ll, um, go.” You announced, turning on your heels, ready to make your great escape.
“Wait!”
Jungkook ran to his desk. He grabbed some paper, using a pen to scribble down something. You stood patiently, twiddling your thumbs. “Here, these are some guidelines to help you with the healing process for the new ink.”
Frantically nodding, you thanked him, offering a gentle bow of your head. He bit his lip at your action, finding it endearing. He flipped the booklet before handing it to you.
“Oh, and that’s my number. I finish work at 5. If you text me before then, I can come over to, um, make sure you get some proper aftercare. You know, for the tattoo.”
Pursing your lips together, you tried to hide the smile. “Yeah, for the tattoo.”
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honey-flustered · 25 days
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Along For The Ride (Part 1 of 2)
MDNI +18 Only!!
Farmer!Older!Beefy!Eddie Munson/ Mean!Bougie!Fem!Reader
Summary: A drunken joyride leads you in the midst of Eddie Munson, who’s seeking repayment for the damages made to his property by you. Fed up with your constant misbehavior, your father makes a deal with Eddie in which you will do some manual labor around his farm in exchange. You’re not too pleased with this arrangement and your differences in personalities lead to a clashing of heads…and tongues?? (8.5k words)
A/N: I have not written in ages. It is really tough being a writer with the pressures I place on myself to be perfect, to gain more likes and followers, to write things as quickly as possible. I’m learning to fall in love with writing again. It’s a slow process but someday I’ll be able to share all the great things I’ve been working on for the past year. Anyway, here is my start to starting my journey again and thank you all for supporting me.
CW: fluff and lots of angst, enemies to friends to lovers trope, SLOW BURN, age gap (Eddie 40s, Reader 20s), mean!affluent!reader, bad girl reader, light smut/eventual heavy smut, bratty!reader, ugly duckling turned swan trope, reader character development, mean friends, minor canon events from tv series (chrissy death, eddie accused of chrissy and other victims deaths), limited knowledge of farm life and work, drunk driving, consumption of marijuana and alcohol, committing of property crimes, return of reader’s ex, mentions of insecurities, descriptive and graphic language, lots of sexual tension, kissing, dry humping, eddie cums in his pants
You bellow out the lyrics to Taylor Swift’s “We Are Never Getting Back Together” along with your three friends, not a care in the world for who would be unfortunate enough to hear you in the chilly 3 am evening. The girls pass around a bottle of tequila when your best friend, Tana, —seated in the passenger seat— attempts to pour a shot into your mouth.
“Babe, no. I drank enough at the club. The guy that asked for my number was practically throwing them at me. I had to kill a plant by pouring my drinks onto the poor thing. Men ruin everything.” You pout.
“Amen to that, sis,” Tana says, snapping her fingers. “Had a guy tell me that he thinks I’m the one for him. Turns out, he’s married with a baby on the way.”
You all playfully point your index fingers to your tongues, faking gags before leading into a giggling fit.
“I had a guy ghost me because he didn’t like me sharing my selfies on social media. Said that ‘they should only be exclusive to him’.” Your friend, Essie, shares.
“I feel like we need to get back at men for the shit they put us through,” Brooke chimes in. “I’m in the mood to make a man fall to his knees, whimpering for mercy.”
“You kinky little minx!” You laugh. “Are you trying to make men pay or are you trying to get laid?”
“Can it be both?” Brooke says, biting her acrylic-donned thumb.
“I say…” Tana calls attention to herself, raising a hand. “We choose a random house on this street to wreak our vengeance. One of the homes has to belong to a man.”
“I’m in!” Essie beams.
“Me too.” Brooke says, high fiving Tana for her devious plan.
“I don’t know, guys,” You say, reluctant to rain on their parade. “We’re pretty drunk but I don’t think we’re drunk enough to want vandalism charges. Let’s just go to one of those rage rooms and let out all this pent up energy. We could scream out female rage lines from our fave movies and break shit.”
“That’s…okay but it’s not as epic as Tana’s idea,” Essie says, leaning forward to be in better earshot range. “Come on, y/n. It’s only for tonight. You know, we’re just having some harmless girl time fun. It’s not like we’ll be breaking and entering. We’re just gonna do some silly stuff then leave. Pleeaaase. I just broke up with my boyfriend. I need this.”
You take a quick glance at the girls who all send big, puppy eyes your way. You sigh then laugh. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”
They cheer at your response, knowing that they’ve won. You raise a hand to cease their cheers and they quickly go dead silent. “Since, I’m the most sober one here. We’re doing this my way,” While staring at the road ahead, a smirk slowly spreads across your face. “I get to choose the place.”
——————
The four of you sneak onto the open field, tiptoeing through the tall grass. Based on the smell wafting in the air, you are certain there are barn animals nearby.
With a nasal tone in her voice from holding her nose, Tana says, “Ugh, how could anyone work around this icky smell?”
“Shhh,” You order, putting a finger to your lips. “If we need to be quiet if this is going to be a successful in and out mission. Do you remember the plan?”
“How could I forget? It’s the most basic prank ever.” Tana whisper-yells, holding up the two rolls of toilet paper in her hands.
“It’s still a huge pain to the homeowner,” You defend confidently before letting out a wicked giggle. “He will be so inconvenienced when he wakes up in the morning.”
Tana shakes her head lovingly at you before peering to her right and left. “Umm, y/n, where’s Essie and Brooke?”
Your eyes widen as you unintelligibly peer to your right and left as well despite knowing the space is empty. “Oh shit,” You facepalm. “How could we have let them out of our sight? Who knows what those morons are doing?”
“Hew we awe,” Essie carries a ‘baby talk’ inflection as she materializes from the dark bluish night with a medium-sized pig cradled in her arms. “Evwyone meet Wilbur.”
“I’m sorry but where the hell did you get that pig?!” You say, no longer able to keep your voice to a whisper.
“The barn, obviously.” Brooke replies.
“What happened to not breaking and entering?! I take my eyes off you two for a second and you’ve already broken a handful of crimes.” You scold.
“But we’re saving him, y/n. You don’t want this pig to become bacon, do you?” Essie says, holding up the pig near your face only for it to wiggle out of her grasp and take off running.
“We’ve gotta catch that stupid fucking pig!” You yell and the girls obey. The group comically chases the animal around, slipping and sliding through mud and crops. In the chaos, the pig makes contact with the toilet paper you’ve long abandoned, tossing it around with the help of the forceful winds to guide it all over the field.
You spot the pig approaching the door of a small blue cottage. You dive forward, fully immersed in the thick mud that soiled your white tank top and denim skirt and you cared little for this fact with your concerns focused on obtaining the pig in your arms. He squeals and whines against you as you plead for its compliance.
Suddenly the porch lights turn on, shining down on you like a spotlight. The door swings open and not long after you’re forced to look into the eyes of your prosecutor from the ground.
A rugged, older man with unruly, curls of brown hair cascading down his shoulders and the deepest brown eyes that are as large as buttons. The same eyes that were now staring down angrily at you.
“What the fuck?” He says through gritted teeth. It’s not until he sees the full extent of your wrath that he decides to emphasize his previous statement with a fury of a thousand suns. “What. The. Fuck!”
You swallow hard, releasing the pig as you collect yourself off the floor. The man feels no need to check whether his pet had entered the home safely, wanting his eyes to focus on you in case you tried running.
“I-I could explain. W-we were just—”
“We?” He abruptly interrupts, upholding the gruffness in his tone.
You were afraid that he’d say that. After all, those bitches were a little too quiet for your liking. After looking behind you to confirm their abandonment, you slowly face your prosecutor once again.
Swallowing the hard lump in your throat you begin, you try scrambling for an answer. This is already a very terrifying situation. This man looked terrifying himself. He’s robust in build, littered with tattoos, and had piercings. You don’t see men like him everyday or at all on your side of town. Men usually groomed themselves like ken dolls where you come from. But when you have come across men that look like him, the experience has always been a negative one—-only this time you were the one at fault.
“I’m sorry.” You shrug with an awkward smile then tack on a “Please don’t call the cops.”
He sighs deeply. “I’m not going to call the cops…”
“Oh, thank god.” You sigh in relief, a hand to your beating chest.
“You’re going to call your parents,” He finishes. “And you are going to tell them that we’re going to come up with a solution for this or I will be calling the police.”
“Oh, fuuuck.” You groan.
————-
“I’m so very sorry, sir. Truly,” Your father says after profusely apologizing for the 7th time since his arrival. “She’s been acting out a lot ever since she’d gone away to university. My wife and I don’t know this girl but she is not the y/n we raised.”
You roll your eyes at the comment, texting away at your friends who wanted to know the details of your capture. Meanwhile, you’re too busy cursing them out to care about how badly you’ll be punished for this.
“I’m just glad things didn’t get any worse or when someone could’ve seriously ended up getting hurt.” The farmer says, staring pointedly at you.
“Now I was thinking…though I could very well pay for the trouble and we could be out of your hair, I’m a man that likes to go above and beyond when it comes to taking responsibility. My daughter’s exceedingly aware of this fact about myself,” Your father scoots his seat up closer to the table, fingers together as if proposing a business plan. “It appears that you might need some temporary assistance in tending to your farm work. If you’re looking for an extra set of hands to help with some manual labor for the next two weeks, my daughter is happy to oblige.”
“Excuse me!” You say, attention fully invested in the conversation. “Tell me you're joking.”
“Nope. You are grounded. Meaning that though you are visiting for spring break, you are currently under my roof, my rules. I am still your parent after all. To clarify, there will be no going out with your friends. You are to come straight to
Mr. Munson’s farm every day after your time at your mother’s shop. You’ll help the gentleman around with whatever he asks of you.” Your father explains.
“And what if I don’t?” You ask, defiant.
“Then you’ll be cut off and you’ll have to earn money on your own.”
“Y-you m-mean a j-job?” You ask, horrified.
“Exactly.” Your father confirms.
You stare wide-eyed at farmer Munson who has a prominent smirk on his face. “I like the sound of that, sir. You’re a good man.”
You shriek in anger. “You’re the worst!”
You furiously stomp out of the home, hating your life and men once again.
————
Your father had no doubts that you’d be going to work on the farm once he’d threaten to take away your (his) money. When you arrive at the address, you’re immediately reminded how you're not on your side of town anymore. It’s officially Hickville.
Reluctantly knocking on the door, you hope that Eddie won’t answer the door, praying that he’s changed his mind and took the money instead. Unfortunately, he answers the door with a huge smile in contrast to your deadpan demeanor.
“Oh, come on, lighten up, sugar. I made some of my famous iced tea ahead. One taste and it’ll all seem worth it.”
“It’s not fair!” You rant, pushing passed him. “Why am I being the only one punished? This was all Brooke’s idea. And Essie was the one who stole the goddamn pig.”
“His name is Wilbur,” Eddie corrects. “And who are we talking about exactly?”
“Doesn’t matter,” You sigh. “Bad things always happen to good people.”
“I’ll say.” Eddie says, staring you down.
“Why are you staring at me like that?”
“You really think you’re the victim in all of this?”
“Are you?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t we check out the lovely view of the TP’d trees blowing in the wind?” He asks sarcastically, gesturing to his window.
“It’s just a little toilet paper. Never had a little prank done on you.”
“Wow,” He feigns a smile, shaking his head at you. “Your audacity to diminish all the negative things you’ve done to me into the spirit of good fun is astounding.”
“My therapist did always say I have a knack for looking at things on the bright side.” You retort.
“Is that so?” He asks mockingly. “Well then, you’re gonna love this special job I have for you.”
—————
Which leads you to the situation you’re in now. You’re staring into the eyes of a cow whose large brown eyes kind of reminded you of farmer Munson except they actually held kindness in them and not pure disdain.
“There’s no way I’m milking this thing. I have no idea how to do that,” You say, prompting Eddie to raise a suggestive eyebrow at you. “You know what I mean, pervert.”
Suddenly, an idea clicked in your head. Maybe you could use this ‘pervert’ thing to your advantage. He’s obviously single or he wouldn’t be this much of a crab. You can easily seduce him and get out of doing anything!
“Mr. Munson,” You say with a purr in your voice as you press yourself up against him. “I’m actually really good at milking other things after all. You’ve got me pegged at that. Maybe…I can show you just how skillful my mouth and hands can be for you.”
He laughs. He fucking chuckles in your face. How fucking dare he?! “That was rich. Seriously, that performance was just…moving. You can try to sway me with sex all ya want, hun. Trust me there are women and men who’ve tried,” He slightly narrows the gap between your faces, staring you down. “I don’t buckle under that kinda pressure, sugar. It’ll take a lot more than salacious words to make my dick jump. Now why don’t we go back to the task at hand, shall we?”
You’re fuming. This asshole really thinks he can get away with making you out to be a fool. Well, two could play that game. You’re going to make his existence for the next two weeks feel like a total nightmare.
He seats you on a small stool beside the cow before instructing you on how to milk her. You halfheartedly reach for an udder, shrieking at the feel of it between your fingers.
“This is so gross!” You whimper, squeezing your eyes shut. “I’m going to disassociate and imagine that I’m in a niche boutique in Manhattan.”
“Ah, spending daddy’s money even in your dreams. How thoughtful.” He mutters.
“You have no right to judge me just because you think I’m privileged.” You snap.
“I don’t ‘think’ you’re privileged. You are privileged. See the difference?”
You tug on an udder, purposefully targeting him as the milk drenches him. His face puckers his face before staring daggers at you.
“Oops.” You say in a sickeningly sweet tone.
——————
You begrudgingly enter your house key into the doorknob, body aching from the day's work. The moment you enter, your father’s happy-go-lucky spirit engulfs you and it takes everything in you not to explode.
“Hey, honey, how was your first day?”
“Question, father,” You begin, calling him the formal term instead of “papa” or “dad”. “Do you love me?”
“Now what kind of silly question is that?” He reverts back with his own question, befuddled.
“I’m just curious because I don’t think a father who truly loves their daughter would ever put her through the kind of hell I just went through today.” You respond.
“You milked a cow,” Your teenager brother, Aspen, enters the dining room before beginning a dramatic act. “Someone save the poor girl! She’s gaining new life experiences! You are such primadonna.”
“Shut up, ya little twerp.” You say, pulling his hoodie over his face.
“Your brother’s right, dear,” Your father says. “You are being really dramatic. I don’t get it. You never used to be this way. You loved reading books and conducting personal science experiments and geeking out over your favorite movies—”
“That just isn’t me anymore, dad. The sooner you accept that, the better it is for us all.” You grumble.
He decides to drop the topic in favor of keeping the peace for the dinner your mom prepared for the family to enjoy as a unit. But your mind couldn’t help but to wander back to those times where you were seen as a nerd and bullied for being different and having different interests. University was a different story though. There, you were able to reinvent yourself into the hot bad bitch you know today.
But why is it that your father’s words resonated so much with you? Had it been because it wasn’t the makeover or the new friends and partners you’d make along the way…it was the fact that he knew that you, yourself, couldn’t believe your own act. He knows that you're lying to yourself about liking the person you’ve become. No way could ever admit such a thing to him. And it’s not like you’d feel this way forever. Once you’re done with this hell labor with Eddie “The Devil” Munson, you can go back to your popular life.
————
The routine continued including your constant pushback. It went: shadowing your mother for the day with her bridal clients, heading over to the Munson farm soon after, non stop bickering between the two of you for 2 hours, then heading back home to soak your aching body and curse out the world.
Today is no different with the task of you grooming the stupid pig that got you into this mess in the first place.
“Wilbur. His name’s—”
“I know!” You shout at him, gathering the metal pail and wooden brush from the table. You grumpily made your way to the backyard of the home in search of the shed supposedly carrying the soap to clean the pig. When you notice Wilbur rushes out of a trailer home stationed in the backyard. “Hey, get back here!”
The pig is long gone and you don't care to chase after it once your interest is piqued by the mystery home in the backyard. Searching around to make sure there were no signs of Mr. Munson, you enter the place cautiously.
It’s as if the trailer had been stuck in the 1980s. Everything is vintage and old looking but also well kept. You see photos of the younger Eddie Munson scattered around the walls of the home and—-though you hate to admit it—he was just as handsome as he is now. In some of the photos including one pinned to the fridge by a magnet, you can see an older man. Maybe his father.
Your eye catches an old poetry assignment also pinned to the fridge with a large ‘C+’ above it. A little note at the top explaining his grade being contributed to some misspellings and some inappropriate language despite the good work.
You raise the paper to your eyes and read:
If I Were A Hobbit
If I were a hobbit, I’d be so free
I’d frolic in the grass and smoke some trees
With furry feet and a merry heart
From adventure’s call, I’d never depart
With Bilbo’s tales, I’d while away time.
In the beautiful land of Middle Earth’s rhyme
I’d wander the fields beneath the sun
I’d travel it world cause it’s all in good fun
If I were a hobbit, maybe I wouldn’t get laid
But, hey, it’s goddamn worth the price I paid
You giggle, amused at how fun Mr. Munson had been long ago. You wonder what could’ve happened. Immersed in the poem, you were unaware of his arrival until he whispered haughtily into your ear.
“We’re continuing the trend of breaking and entering, I see.”
You jolt away, facing him. “I-I’m sorry. But you said that I had to look for a shed. Should be more specific.”
“This looks like a shed to you, sugar?”
“Trailer…shed…it’s no different.”
He chuckles dryly. “You are a piece of work.”
“Look who’s talking? You know, you seemed a lot more fun when you were a teenager.” You comment, holding up the poem.
“Give me that,” He yanks from your hands, placing it back on the fridge. “Ain’t anyone ever tell you it’s wrong to go snooping around people’s things. Wait, who am I kidding? I met your father. Even if he were to have taught you these things, you’d probably go against him.”
“You’re a pain in my ass.” You hiss.
“Right back atcha, sweetheart.” He retorts.
“Then, I hope you don’t mind if I continue to do so.” You say, pushing past him to go into the hallway.
“Where do you think you’re going?” He asks, hot on your trail.
You enter a bedroom and it’s another blast from the past. The typical kind of teenage boy bedroom. It’s no shock to you that he's a metalhead. You begin to rummage through his collection.
“You little brat,” He huffs. “I’m too old to be dealing with this shit!”
“Live a little,” You say, popping in a blues cassette into the radio. “Dance with me.”
He stands in the middle of the room, arms crossed as you begin to dance in circles around him. Your boot kicks up a newspaper article crumpled up on the ground and you go to retrieve it, ignoring Eddie’s protests.
It is an article about 15 years ago that expresses Eddie Munson’s exoneration in the death of Chrissy Cunningham and him receiving only a $50,000 settlement. It also goes into detail that his only known immediate family and caretaker, Wanye Munson, had died just a month before his release.
“Oh my god, Mr. Munson. I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t…” You trail off, knowing what to say or even where to begin.
“It’s all in the past now,” He sighs. “Besides, I’m fine now. I still have my friends. They are like family. They’ve got their own lives but when they can they check on me. That’s more than enough.”
Without thinking, your arms curl around his body and for the first time you get to feel his body against yours and it’s addicting. He tenses for a moment, unsure whether this is okay but eventually he melts into your embrace.
His beefy arms cradle you, a large hand resting atop your head. Your heartbeats fall in sync with one another’s and you allow yourself the brief moment to nuzzle into his chest, the chest hairs peeking above his tank top tickles the tip of your nose.
You dare to look him in the eyes, seeing them already looking down at you. They were wet with unshed tears, pleading with you for something. It’s the first time you’ve seen that look on his face and like a magnet you're drawn to it. You’re suddenly moving on your own accord, tiptoeing to brush your nose against his. He lowers his face to your level. Your lips are only a mere centimeters from his full ones when the sound of his phone ringing takes you both out of the moment.
He’s quick to pull away as if freed from an intense spell. Excusing himself, he leaves the room and heads outside. You’re left standing in the room alone, the soft, rhythmic melody of blues playing in the background.
Willing yourself to cool down, you decide to go on with your original task and find Wilbur while hoping it’ll shake off the electric feeling he left on your skin.
————————-
Bathing the pig proved to be quite the distraction because this little shit is making you use all your brain power to keep it still. Having stripped into just your bikini and rainboots, you held the pig for dear life as you washed and scrubbed at him and practically yourself.
You notice Eddie from the corner of your eye, stifling laughter as he leaned against a nearby tree.
“By the way, I’ve already washed off all the barn animals, tended to my crops, and was able to make myself a sandwich in the meantime. You, however, you’re still working on Wilbur. Or should I say, he’s working you.”
“Hardee har har,” You say, unamused. “Will you just help me with this pig?”
“Alright, alright,” He says, heading over to you. The pig immediately jumps from his grasp and into your arms. “It’s all in the technique.”
“Easy for you to say. He already knows you.” You grumble.
“Now what you’re gonna want to do is come up behind him. He's a big fella so in order to hold him down you’ll need to straddle him like this and place your hands down firmly on his back. That way he’ll know to stay put,” Eddie says getting into position, his boots digging in the dirt for some leverage. “He’ll tussle with ya a little but it’s only because he’s not used to being handled by other humans. He’s still a little frantic with me even after all these years. I saved him from the slaughterhouse so it comes with the territory.”
“You mean you weren’t going to turn him into bacon?”
“No, sugar, Wilbur’s family. Now get up on here with me. Don’t put too much of your weight on him. Only just enough to hold him down.” He instructs.
You follow suit, straddling the pig and placing your hands over Eddie’s before looking back over your shoulder at him. “Like this?”
“Just like that, sugar. You’re a natural. See? Now I’m just gonna go ahead and get up and you’ll take the—”
“What? No, don’t leave me! He’ll just shake me off again.” You protest.
Sure enough, the pig began to shake the both of you off its back, side to side until you both fell back into the soil. You fall right into Eddie’s lap and he instinctively grips your hips hard, causing you to let out a yelp and scramble out of his grasp.
You sat on your knees, looking at him with wide eyes and he returned with the same expression. The blush on his face intensifies and you follow the way his hands rush to pull the cowboy hat from his head to hold against his lap.
He quickly looks away from you, clearing his throat.
“You’ve got—erm, your bikini bra…” You’ve never seen him so flustered. So speechless. You eish you could relish in it but when you realize exactly what he’s insinuating, you feel your cheeks begin to heat up as you wish the world will swallow you whole.
Your tit is hanging out for the world to see. A fucking nipple slip! Why did God cease at nothing to make you the butt of every joke?
You briskly adjust your bra, shaking in your boots. The itching desire to run heavy on your mind.
“I-I s-should go,” Your shaky legs somehow allow you to stand as you peer down at him. “Have a good evening, Mr. Munson.”
You stiffly power walk your way to the small cottage home to gather your discarded clothes on the porch. Eddie’s large hand rests on your shoulder.
“Wait! I can’t send you off like this. You’ll track mud in your car.”
“It’s not like I haven’t done that before.” You scoff.
“Why don’t you shower here and I’ll offer you some fresh clothes? I’ll be making my stir fry in case you're hungry.”
“You being nice to me all of a sudden, Mr. Munson?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. “Can’t help but think there’s some kind of hidden agenda.”
He smiles a genuine 100-watt smile. “No, sugar. I’m just extending some needed hospitality is all.”
—————
You pull on the long sleeved t-shirt Eddie offered you, studying its logo. A horned demon, swords, dice and so on.
“It’s my old high school club t-shirt.” He says, coming to sit beside you on the couch.
“You were in a Dungeons and Dragons club?”
“You know D’N’D?”
“Know it?! I loved that game.” You say, excitedly.
“I didn’t think kids in your generation still played that game.” He laughs.
“Oh, yeah,” You nod. “I was a dungeon master. My campaigns were fire. Anyone who’d joined my games would always go around telling their friends to come see me in action.”
“No way! I was a dungeon master, too! I took it a little too seriously at times but it was like my second passion,” He looks you up and down. “I would have never thought someone like you would be into that kinda stuff.”
“I’ll ignore your sly comment to clarify that I wasn’t always like this back in high school.”
“What do you mean?” He asks.
“Well, you heard my dad. I used to be a goody two-shoes. A nerd. And I even dressed the part, too. The old me would’ve totally geeked at your Hobbit poem. I’m different now though.”
“What’s so wrong about being a nerd?” He inquires, scooting closer to you.
“I used to get bullied everyday. Boys would ignore me. Even the geeks would only ever see me as a friend. When I got to university, that all changed. Everyone wanted me.”
“I think if I’d known you then, we’d probably be good friends.”
“Yeah right. I seemed like the bad boy type who falls for the cheerleader. You wouldn’t have looked twice in my direction.”
“No,” Eddie says firmly, staring you intensely in the eyes. “I would see you.”
He repeats for emphasis. “I see you.”
You swallow the hard lump in your throat, choking back tears. You’ve never felt so vulnerable. It’s strange to be so open with a man who 5 days ago you would have choked with your bare hands.
“Besides,” He says, breaking the silence. “I think it’s you who would have ignored me. I’m not the bad boy you think I am. Sure, I was a bit of a troublemaker here and there. But I was a huge geek, too. Hadn’t even lost my virginity until age 36. A year after my release. No girl wanted to fuck me back in high school. I was ‘the freak’. To some people today, I still am one regardless if I’m innocent.”
“I would’ve believed you’re innocent. I’d have been by your side, too. Us, geeks, have to stick together, yeah?”
He huffs out a laugh. “Yeah.”
There’s that magnetic pull again. The attraction that makes you want to be as close to him as possible. You resist not wanting to make that move again but he takes the initiative, leaning in further only this time you're interrupted once again with the sound of your phone ringing. You throw a silent fit in your head. Eddie’s just as frustrated, expelling a long duration of air from his nose.
“Hello.” You say, answering the phone.
“Hey, baby,” A familiar voice says on the line. “It’s been months. I still think about our time in Venice and this spring fever is only making it harder to ignore.”
Now the memories come flooding in. It’s an ex-fling you met while studying abroad in Italy during your freshman year of university. The man who’d taken your virginity and showed you the ropes to popularity. The moment you left Italy you expected him to call you back but he immediately ghosted you. From then on, you became the maneater you are today.
“What do you want?”
You, of course. I hear you are back in your hometown. Luckily for you, I am doing some research here and I was wondering—-“
“Luckily for me? Are you on drugs, Stefan? I don’t care if you want me. You could forget my number and then you’ll forget me. Have a goodnight.” You quickly hang up the call, ignoring his pleas.
“Is everything alright?” Eddie asks, noticing the way you’re hyperventilating.
“I am now,” You sigh. “That was my ex. He was also my first. He treated me like shit made me feel stupid and like I needed him as if he created me. And back then, I felt like I did need him. Then he ghosted me. It felt good to give him a piece of my mind although I wish I could have said more.”
“I think you said enough. I’m certain you hit him where it hurts.” He laughs.
“I should probably go.” You say, standing up from the couch to grab your coat.
“What happened to staying for dinner?” He asks.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Munson”
“Eddie. You can call me Eddie.”
“Eddie,” You say, testing his name on your tongue. You’re not exactly sure if you’re ready to be this informal with him despite your almost kisses and the boob slip incident. “I’m sorry but his call has left me shaken. I think I need to be in the company of my girls.”
“You mean, the girls who got you into trouble and left you behind? The ones your parents warned you to stay away from?”
“Come on, dude, I need this. It’s not like you can give me great advice about guys.”
“I could. Considering I am one.”
“Well, I don’t think we’re close enough for that kind of session.”
“We just had this whole heart to heart. I thought we were seeing some improvement in our friendship.” Eddie says.
“We’re friends?”
“Us, geeks, stick together?”
“That’s just an oath. Doesn’t exactly confirm a friendship between us.”
He exhales deeply, trying to contain his anger. “Well, I guess you wouldn’t mind if I tell your father about your little hangout.”
“Are you blackmailing me?” Your eyes narrow at him.
“That would suggest that I’d be getting anything of value out of this which I wouldn’t be. Therefore, no this isn’t blackmail but it is definitely a threat. I don’t care if we’re friends. I don’t care to be your friend, sugar. But as the more responsible adult between us, I think it’s within our best interest that you don’t hang out with the people who cause you to commit crimes. So, I think I’ll be taking you home, hmm?”
“And what about my car?”
“I’ll take good care of it for tonight. I’ll pick you up tomorrow for your next job.” He smiles smugly.
If looks could kill, he’d be 7 feet under and you’d already be in hell.
————
Eddie pulls up to the front of your house. The whole ride there had been silent. You angrily gather your things, hurriedly trying to exit his van.
“Have a goodnight, sugar!” He shouts as you slam the door in his face.
Once you’re inside, you do the routine process of angrily ranting out your annoyance with farmer Munson while stomping angrily up the stairs. Your family used to this by now simply goes about business as usual.
You dial up Tana and after a couple rings she answers. “Hey, bitch! I was just about to text you the news. Did you hear who’s in town?”
“Yeah, Stefan, I know. How’d you know?”
“He's been calling me nonstop asking for you. Says he wants to talk to you.”
“I already did. Told him to fuck off,” You say. “And I thought I’d feel a lot better about it but I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I didn’t get to stomp on his weirdly-shaped small dick.”
“Oh, yeeahh. I remember the dick pic he sent you. It is weird, isn’t it? Like an undeveloped banana. Anywho…you wanna get high at my place and watch America’s Next Top Model reruns. I’ve got Jell-O shots.” She singssongs the last statement.
“I can’t remember. I’m on lockdown,” You sigh. “If I get into any more trouble or I might as well hand over a contract of my soul to the devil.”
“Bitch, you are a grown woman. These are the best years of our lives where we’re supposed to live it to the fullest. Sneak out! I’m coming over to pick you up.”
“Tana, n—” But she’s already hung up the call. Sometimes, you really hate this girl. With no choice, you’re forced to make a plan.
Firstly, you create a human-shaped pile in your bed, disguising it with your comforter. Next, you’ll be climbing out of your window and quietly land on your lawn. Finally, you enter your friend’s car and you’ll be homefree.
Although, the climb is a lot more daunting than you anticipated. It seemed like a lot of a higher jump from where you are standing. Tana’s car pulls in and she rushes out to jump up and wave, whisper-yelling to encourage you to do it.
“Tana, this is fucking crazy. You always make me do crazy shit.” You yell down at her.
“But it’s all for the sake of fun experiences.” She retorts. “Come on and jump. Be the bad bitch, you are. Think for a second. WWBD: What would Beyonce do?”
“She'd probably fire you as a friend.” You growl.
“Fair enough.”
“Okay, I’m ready to jump. Just be ready to catch me.”
“What?” Before Tana could register what you meant, you jumped, hurtling into her arms and straight to the ground.
“Huh, that wasn’t so bad.” You smile.
“Yeah, because I’m the one breaking your fall.” Tana groans.
“Payback’s a bitch, love.”
—————
“So, is the farmer plowing your garden?” Tana asks, while applying mascara to your eyelashes.
“Tana!”
“What? That’s got to be the only reason you’re officially over Stefan.” She says.
“I was already over Stefan. Eddie’s just my headache.”
“You’re on first name bases with him. Oh, you are definitely fucking him.”
“I’m not!” You insist.
“And did you say Eddie? That’s the infamous Eddie Munson. How could I have not seen the connection? He’s so hot. Is that okay to say about a murderer?”
“He’s not a murderer.” You quickly defend him causing Tana to raise her hands in surrender.
“Yikes, I’m sorry I didn't mean to offend your friend.”
“He’s not my…well, he is. But…he’s not a murderer. He never killed her. I did some digging on the internet and this town used to be really strange back then. Not how it is now. I don’t know but the circumstances in all the deaths that happened back in ‘86 are all too weird. No human could do the things that I’ve seen done to those corpses.”
“Bummer. Guess we’ll never know who did it. I hear people who know of this case still harass him to this day. It’s no wonder he practically lives off the grid.” Tana sighs. A knock at her front door leads her away and you’re alone to ponder your thoughts.
An overwhelming need to comfort Eddie hits you as you thought back to the moment he’d asked you to stay for dinner. You assumed it was all a ploy to get into your pants but now you realize that he’d genuinely enjoyed the little company he’d gotten.
You hear Tana’s footsteps and a set of another coming up the stairs and before you could get a chance to tell her that you’ll be leaving, she enters the room with your ex.
“What the hell is this?” You sneer.
“I just thought maybe you should hear him out.” Tana says with an anxious smile.
“I’m out of here.” You say, grabbing your jacket from her bed.
“Where are you going? Your car’s not here.” Tana rushes down the stairs after you.
“I’ll walk!” You hiss over your shoulder, pulling the door open where you’re unfortunately met with the presence of your father, brother, and the devil himself.
“Mr. Munson? Dad? What the hell are you all doing here?”
“Funny, I was just about to ask you the same thing.” Your father says.
Stefan steps out from behind you, handing you a piece of paper. “I can see that it is a bad time, mi cara. Please, call me when you can. It’s a new number since you’ve blocked my old one.”
With that, he acknowledges the men before him with a nod and leaves. It’s not lost on you that Eddie stares him down with a dirty look on his face before his eyes land back on you.
“If I could just explain...” You begin.
“No, y/n, I’m sick of your excuses. You sneak off at night to god knows where. You reek of pot and booze. Is this the type of example you want to set for your younger brother? He’ll be graduating next year. Should anticipate that his time in university will consist of lollygagging around instead of focusing on his career?”
You look over to your brother who, instead of carrying a smirk, he had a look of genuine concern for you.
“I was just having fun.”
“Is that all you can think about? When did fun require drugs and alcohol and committing crimes?! Fun for you used to be attending cosplaying conventions, not vandalizing properties and drunk driving.”
“Well, I’m not that anymore so you could fucking stop clinging to the past.” You yell.
Your father is taken aback and you could faintly see the waterline rising in his eyes. “Get in the car. Now!”
You shoot Eddie an angry look. “Us, geeks, stick together? Forget anything I ever said about believing in you.”
Your heart twinges at the shattered look on his face at your statement. No longer wanting to see the extent of your blow, you brush past him and follow your father’s command.
“As for you, young lady,” your father points to Tana. “I will be in touch with your parents regarding your misconduct.”
Tana’s mouth drops in complete shock at this revelation and for a moment you actually are proud of your dad.
————-
You plop yourself onto your bed, crying your eyes out. Not even really crying for yourself but for Eddie. How could you have been so cruel to him? All for the reason that he cares enough about you to make sure you aren’t getting into trouble. There’s no way he’d ever forgive you for the way you spoke to him.
A knock on your door calls to your attention. You reluctantly answer, knowing you’ll be getting yet another punishment. You’re surprised to find your brother, Aspen, at the door.
“What do you want, twerp?” You say.
“You should really apologize to dad. You made him cry. I’ve never seen him like that.” He says.
“I know. It’s just that I hate when people remind me that I was…a loser. I didn’t mean to be so awful to him, though.”
“You were never a loser. In fact, I used to think you were pretty cool. I wanted to be comfortable in my weirdness as you were. I’m happy that you’re finding yourself and all. But you don’t have to change who you are to appease anyone. Not even dad. It’s your life, sis. If you like drinking and partying, that’s okay. If you like reading nerdy books and cosplaying, that’s okay, too. As long as it’s something you want to do and not something you do to make people like you. So stop acting like you’re some psycho fembot that wants to spend the rest of her life in and out of jail.”
“Wow, Aspen, I’m impressed. I did not know you could speak incoherent sentences.” You tease, pulling him into a hug.
“Fuck off.” He laughs, struggling to free from your tight embrace.
————
The next day, after some time to think of your apologies. You began with your father. He admitted to you that he was scared of the thought of you growing up and not needing him and let’s just say that the two of you ended up bawling in each other’s arms and confessing your love and appreciation for one another by the end of it. Your busy event planner mother stumbled into the scene both heartwarmed and confused.
The next one is going to be a tough one for you. But you felt prepared with a handy long written note in your hand in case you needed to find the right words.
However, the moment you arrived on his farm and were met with the look of indifference on his face, you began to break down sobbing. Hard. The thought letter long abandoned to the ground.
His demeanor immediately softens, placing a hand on your shoulder to comfort you.
“I-I’m s-so sorry….you…friend…mean…,” You gasp an unintelligible apology through your tears. “Bitchy…geeks…believe you…stupid pig Wilbur…never would have met a great man like youuuu.”
He gives you a small smile, pulling you into his embrace. “I know, I know.”
“Understand?” You ask.
“Yes, sugar. I understand what you said. Crystal clear.”
“Accept?”
“Yes, I accept your apology.” Eddie laughs.
“You don’t hate me?”
“I never hated you. Even when you’re being an annoying brat. ” He says.
“Good,” You sniffle, pulling away from him to wipe your tears and compose yourself. “I’m happy we’re friends again.”
“Friends? Who said anything about friends?” He quips before patting your shoulder. “Yeah, we’re friends again.”
“Now you could get to work and then later you can make me that stir fry that I've been dying to try.” You beam, skipping into his home.
“Only if you’re a good girl.” He challenges.
For the day, the two of you would groom the horses together. Of course, you were still quite jumpy and the bougie princess he knows you to be but it was nothing he didn’t find amusing about it anyway.
“You should seriously take a look at my note though. I really thought out all the things I had to say for you. My weeping apology was only the tip of the iceberg.”
“I don’t know. I don’t think anything in that note will top that moment but I’ll take your word for it.”
“Read it when you’re alone though. I don’t want to see your face when you read it.”
“Why?”
“Because I know you’ll be all smug about.” You say, rolling your eyes.
“And you say you hardly know me,” He chuckles then switches to a serious, gruff tone. “So…Stefan…he’s a looker. Thinking about going back on your word to end things with him.”
You laugh. “I’m playing it by ear. He says he’s changed but that’s every jerks’ favorite line.”
“Just let him know that if he ever hurts you, I’ll kick his ass.” He threatens.
You step into Eddie’s space, his face flushes at the close proximity. Your hand raises up to cradle his heated cheek. “You couldn’t hurt a fly, Edward Allan Munson.”
Lost in your eyes, he fails to notice you tug the joint nuzzled behind his ears. Until you raise it up to his face with a knowing smile. “You smoke weed?”
“Baby, I used to be a dealer. In fact, I still grow my own supply.”
“No way.”
“Oh yeah. Maybe I was the freak but those jocks and cheerleaders were begging for a piece of my supply.”
“You wouldn’t mind if we smoke this one together.” You suggest.
“After your father chewed you out for it last night?”
“He knows I do it. And I learned this morning, after our heart-to-heart, that he was once a pothead, too. And now that I know that you are also a pothead, not only does this confirm my personal theory that most people smoke weed but also this makes our friendship so much more interesting.”
“You’re starting to throw that whole ‘friendship’ word around a lot more enthusiastically now.”
“My friend’s a dealer. I’m going to take full advantage of that.” You loop your arm around his guiding him to an empty stable so you can both fall against the hay.
He picks the hay from his hair, laughing. “I don’t even have a lighter and the fumes are not safe for the animals.”
“Babe,” You say almost insulted. “I always carry a lighter. You never know when you’ll find yourself in an impromptu smoke session or possibly get lost in the middle of the woods. Besides, we released the animals into the field for their little recess. We’re the only animals left here. Just you and me.”
“Alright, fine I guess we’re doing this. Don’t tell your dad about this, though. This will just be a one time thing.”
“Mhm, yeah sure, bud,” You say nonchalantly, busying yourself with lighting the joint. You hand over the joint to him and he protests, wanting you to take the first hit. You oblige. “It’s your joint. Don’t you know the rules? The one who bringeth, smoke..eth.”
“You wanted it badly so I let you take it first.”
“I didn’t want it ‘badly’. I’m not a fucking addict,” You laugh, bellowing out a puff of smoke. “I just thought it’d be a nice bonding moment. Wanna see how you get when you’re high.”
“It’s nothing special. I’m the same as I am now.” He shrugs.
“You mean, ‘a stick in the mud’?”
He bumps you with his shoulder causing you to lay back against the hay.
“You jerk, I just pick all that out of my hair.”
“Serves you right. Now hand me the joint. You’re hogging it,” He tries to reach for it but you raise it above your head. “You’re such a tease.
He attempts to reach for it again, falling on top of you. His full weight on your body is so damn delicious it takes everything in you not to moan. It doesn’t help that the weed has heightened your senses making you feel EVERYTHING. The way his hot breath feels tickling your neck along with the way his curls on his head gently caress your skin as he reaches for the joint. He seems oblivious to the state he leaves you in even after he’s gotten it until he lets out a puff of smoke in the air then looks back down at you once again. It’s evident he can see the darkened lust in your eyes because of the way his adam’s apple bobs in his throat. He suddenly feels so thirsty and it isn’t because of the weed.
Afraid a moment like this will be interrupted once again, you lunge forward attacking his lips. He’s caught fullg by surprise, a strangled moan swallowed up in your frenzied fit of passion. You’re the one controlling the kiss, forcing him to roll on his back so you can grind down on the sizable erection in his jeans. The friction from the fabric of your lace underwear and the rough denim of his jeans are an undefeated combination against your puffy clit, sending flood after flood of your wetness to pool between your legs.
The kisses are sloppy. Your hands are everywhere; in his hair, yanking his shirt for dear life. His hands cup your face before entwining in your hair then they’re around your neck, unable to keep them still because he’d like to feel every part of you just as you wish to do to him. Every so often growls would escape your lips as you grind harder and harder against him.
“Fuck, Eddie, you feel so fucking good.” You whisper desperately into his ear.
“So do you, sugar. Ain’t even inside you yet and I’m already about to blow.” He groans, sweaty forehead pressed against your own.
“Can I fuck you, Mr. Munson?” You plead.
And the whine Eddie lets out confirms that it won’t be happening anytime soon. You look between your bodies, seeing the dark, wet patch on his jeans then back up at him.
He’s obviously embarrassed. “I’m sorry. It’s been a while.”
“That’s okay. Um, this was…this was really spontaneous.” You don’t immediately get off, wanting more and hoping he’d give you more so that he can make you cum, too.
Instead he grabs you by waist, lifting you off him in a hurry. “I’m sorry. I need to—-this was a mistake.”
And once again, he leaves you to your thoughts. All you could do is stare as he grew smaller and smaller in the distance, while you began to feel smaller and smaller on the inside.
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savannahsdeath · 6 months
Note
ok imagine reader just got to jackson and is super confident and basically tells everyone what to do all the time. like people always listen to her bc she’s lowkey scary. ellie’s a bit of a loser all the time at first but then gains confidence and tops reader. readers so shocked bc she’s used to getting what she wants shshsh
ELLIE WILLIAMS X READER
mdni please<3
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warnings: 18+!! public sex, cocky!reader n the rest is obvious from the request🤗
writers note: this is a scrap im sorry im sick.. and im not apologizing for leaving yall on edge sorry guys🤭 also it has 1212 words??? signs
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"you and jesse." you said to dina, after a long discussion about who's going to patrol today.
"why not me?" ellie scoffed. "i want to patrol too!"
"oh, sorry, els." you laughed mockingly. "maybe next time."
the appointed couple started slowly walking towards the stud, obeying you without thinking much. the girl that had to stay against her will kicked a single rock in disappointment but didn't say anything else.
"come on, we gotta sign it." you waved your hand in a 'follow me' gesture and started walking towards a public building, to which everyone had access.
it's where a lot of important meetings happen, but for now it seemed empty.
you opened a book and searched for a label with today's date before writing dina's and jesse's names down.
"now, what am i supposed to do? the town's boring." she complained as you sat on a couch, next to her.
"but it's safe." you rolled your eyes. "you'll survive a day off."
"you are, unfortunately, probably right." ellie grumbled. "so you're just going to sit here and relax while i go stir-crazy?"
"mhm. oh, and i'm always right." you nonchalantly shrugged.
she barely managed to stop herself from rolling her eyes at you. "of course."
you looked at her and smirked. you could see how mad she was, but you knew she won't do anything about it. she wasn't the type to argue, especially not with you. she just continued fidgeting with her fingers, like she always did in your presence. you chuckled to yourself as you thought about it, enjoying her discomfort.
you leaned back in your seat and relaxed, satisfied with the view of her irritated expression. she looked like she wanted to say something, but she knew it would only fuel your ego and make her feel worse.
eventually, she turned to look at you, and her facial expression begun to betray an emotion. she was clearly not happy with how things were playing out here.
"i know you always have to get your way, but it would be nice if you actually listened to me every once in a while." she said, not raising her voice, but making it clear that she's becoming more irritated as the situation continues.
you frowned in disbelief. "excuse me?"
she looked away again, her voice turning into a whisper. "you heard me."
"excuse me?" you repeated, your tone shifting to be more firm and authoritative.
ellie looked back at you, as if in a defiant manner.
"you need to learn when to keep your mouth shut." her voice was still soft, but you could see the fire in her eyes as she stared at you unwaveringly. she was clearly not willing to back down from her position.
silence
you were to stunned to say anything.
ellie was the first one to speak, speaking rather calmly, given the circumstances. "i said what i had to say. you can go ahead and tell me to shut up now."
she remained staring at you, not blinking, not fidgeting, just staring into your eyes.
"you're funny." you smirked, not taking her comments to heart at all. "i like that."
"oh, you like that?" ellie says as she crosses her arms in front of her chest. there is a certain amount of playfulness in her voice, although the underlying tension between you two is still present. "you like that someone finally spoke up?"
"now that i think about it.." your grin widened and you stood up, walking to a nearby counter. "no, not really."
"oh, i like this game." ellie said in return, getting up off of the couch. she slowly made her way over to the same counter area where you were. her movements were steady and calculated, not showing an inkling of fear or anxiety, even though she was well aware of the fact that this was an intense situation. she was almost enjoying it. "let's see, what else can i do to get on your nerves, hmm? maybe this?" she leaned against the counter, close enough to you that you could feel her breath on your neck. there was a small part of you that was worried about where this was heading, but then, unexpectedly, she begun to speak very softly to you, close to your ear, making this part stay silent. "i can make this much worse, you know."
you can't help but feel a tinge of excitement running down your back. this was a risky move by her, and she was almost daring you to do something about it.
"i don't think there's anything worse than standing so near to you." you whispered, but didn't even try to push her away, expecting she'll back down by herself.
ellie leaned even closer, to the point where your faces were barely an inch away from each other. you felt her breath, you could see the little details on her face, everything was amplified to this degree.
she slowly whispered into your ear, so gently that it almost felt like a caress. "now, you really don't know what you're talking about."
ellie paused for a moment, but not for long. she reached her right hand out and took your left in hers. her touch felt warm and soft, but at the same time there was almost an electric tension in the air around you two.
she slowly begun to speak to you again. "why do we have to fight, huh? is this what you really want?" you felt a slight pull on your hand as she pulled you closer to her.
you sighed, knowing this wasn't in your scenario, but you had to play along. "there weren't any problems, as long as you were listening to me."
ellie's eyes betrayed a hint of irritation once again. "well, there's one problem there." she said as she continued to hold onto your hand. "you aren't always right." she leaned in even closer as she spoke. "sometimes you're just a stubborn, idiotic, bossy, and insufferable pain in the ass."
she finally pulled you all the way up to her. you could feel her breath on your face as she stared intently into your eyes. she seemed to be searching for your next move.
"and still people listen to me." you forced a smirk on your face, which probably turned out as a nervous grimace.
"you know why?" she tugged a strand of your hair behind your ear. "because you're new here. people don't know your backstory and they're scared of you. they think you're... mysterious."
you felt ellie starting to caress your face as she held you in place.
she whispered; "but right now, you're not in the control."
after she said this, she slowly started to move her hand down towards your shirt, as if to prove her point.
you frowned for a short second before mumbling a quiet; "i always am." which turned out way less convincing than you wanted it to be.
ellie's hand slowly inched beneath your shirt. she was very clearly enjoying seeing you squirm in this position.
"oh, is that so?" she said in response to your previous comment. "then why don't you stop me? you're in control, remember?"
the fact is, you could. she'd let you, too. but you didn't want to. you let her do that, and a few more things, even though you risked getting caught. that's what you needed all along.
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moonstruckme · 6 months
Note
Hi! First wanna say I love your writing of the marauders!! It’s amazing and really fills the need I have for their content so thank you! I was hoping to request something kinda similar to the aftercare poly!marauders washing up fic you just did but with a reader who can be exhausted but the minute they shower and get ready for bed they get a sudden burst of involuntary energy and can’t sleep anymore and they get cranky that they were sorta woken up and blame the boys for making her wash up and she’s just very bratty and upset and end it with fluff please?
I'm happy you enjoy it! Thanks for requesting <3
cw: very (very) brief implied smut
poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words
You lie on your back, the trembling starting to die down and one hand still tangled loosely in Sirius’ hair. You close your eyes, trying to even out your breathing. Remus strokes the outside of your thigh, giving you the time you need to come down. But just as the sweat starts to cool on your body, just as your breathing relaxes into a more familiar rhythm and your mind starts to slip away, he says, “Alright, lovely girl. Let’s get up.” 
You sigh, but allow yourself to be hauled upright, mumbling a thanks into James’ shoulder as he piggybacks you into the bathroom. You barely have to stand upright by yourself as you let your boyfriends wash you off, taking turns supporting you and dipping under the showerhead themselves. Sirius teases you for being such a princess when you’re sleepy, and James says that he actually thinks you’d make a fantastic princess, thank Sirius very much, and Remus chuckles at the both of them, and it’s all so familiar it only lulls you further into your tranquil state. 
Before long, you’re wrapped in a warm towel and James is helping you into your favorite fuzzy pajamas, dropping a kiss on the top of your head when he’s finished. You start to crawl up the bed, loose-limbed and eager to slip between the warm sheets, but Remus stops you with a hand on your shoulder. 
“Hey, wait a minute.” He ducks his head, moving your curtain of wet hair aside so you’re forced to give him your attention. “Did you go to the bathroom?”
You whine, and the concern in his eyes morphs into knowing. “Not negotiable, dove. UTIs are not fun.” 
You flop petulantly onto the bed, face down. “Like you would know,” you grumble into the soft sheets. 
James chuckles, but grabs you around the ankles and tugs until your legs are hanging off the mattress. You clutch loose fistfulls of covers. 
“It’ll be okay jus’ this once,” you yawn. At the moment, a good night’s rest seems worth whatever mild inconvenience a UTI might cause. You’re so cozy, and sleep is right there, already coming to reclaim you despite your uncomfortable position at the end of the bed. 
“C’mon, just go so you can get in here with us, yeah?” Sirius says, prodding you with his foot from underneath the sheets. “Won’t take a couple minutes.” 
You groan but slide off the bed, walking zombie-like into the bathroom. The lighting seems harsher now that it’s not clouded by steam. You miss the warmth of the shower, the support of your boyfriends’ arms. The tile is cold under your feet and someone’s left the fan on, its whirring noisy and incessant. Everything seems more and worse than it was a few minutes before. 
By the time you’re done, you’ve woken up entirely against your will. The drowsiness from just a minute before feels like a distant, hazy memory. You tromp back into the bedroom, peering through the darkness at your droopy-eyed boyfriends. Envy curls in your stomach like a snake poised to strike. Your eyes, your muscles, your very bones are exhausted, yet you don’t think you could drift off even if someone poured a sleeping draught down your throat. Sirius cracks an eyelid to find you standing over the bed and lazily pulls back the covers, opening his arms for you. You feel like stomping your foot. 
“I’m not tired anymore,” you complain. Sirius blinks both eyes open, and Remus and James stir. “You guys made me get up, and now I won’t be able to sleep.” 
“Don’t be silly, dove.” Remus murmurs, not even opening his eyes. “Get in bed, you’ll fall asleep soon.” 
“I can’t,” you say, too frustrated to be embarrassed at the whiny pitch of your voice. 
“Whas’ going on?” James is beginning to rouse, and Remus gives you a cross look. Yeah, you think, that makes two of us. They’d all forced you to get up, and frankly, you’re not feeling too guilty about letting them have a taste of their own medicine.
“She says she can’t sleep,” Sirius replies, pushing up onto his elbow. 
James rolls over so he’s facing you, his eyes foggy and half-lidded. “D’you think you just need to warm up, sweetheart?”
You shake your head, but Sirius joins him. “Yeah, c’mere, baby. Let us fix you up.” 
And, well. You’re supposed to be mad, but it’s hard to resist an offer like that. 
Your huff is mostly performative as you crawl into the bed and Sirius’ waiting arms, letting him maneuver you over him so that you’re lying between him and Remus. It is considerably warmer underneath the covers, and you shuffle closer to Sirius. For body heat, of course. 
“Fuck, you are cold,” he mutters as your feet brush his calves, but he doesn’t pull away, rubbing warmth into your arms. 
“This isn’t going to work,” you say as one of his hands moves to your back, tracing smooth circles with his palm. “I still don’t feel tired.” 
“Try,” Remus says, managing to sound stern even on the brink of sleep. “Just close your eyes and give it a little while.”
You roll your eyes, tucking your head under Sirius’ chin. 
“I said close your eyes, dove.” 
You don’t know how Remus knows, but this time you comply. Quiet settles like a blanket over the four of you, the only sound the rhythmic swishing of fabric as Sirius’ hand moves over your back. He smells like his conditioner. You read the label once. It’s called Lilac Breeze, but its aroma is more complex than that, you think. It’s clove, and it’s midnight, and it’s Sirius, something fundamental to him that makes your breaths deepen and your mind settle. Remus nestles closer behind you, his cinnamony scent wafting over you and intertwining with Sirius’ until you’re doped up on loveliness. Every inch of you has warmed now, and your head sinks further into the pillow. Tension you didn’t realize you’d been holding in your hips and shoulders dissipates. Everything is warm and dark and soft. 
You realize you’re yawning too late to stifle the sound, and James chuckles. “Not tired, huh?”
“Shuddup,” you murmur, and Sirius’ breath fans hot over your forehead as he laughs silently, his hand never faltering on your back. You think you feel a kiss against the back of your head, and that’s the last thing you know before you fade into unconsciousness.
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itgetsdark-x · 11 months
Note
dbf!joel with a reader that has an attitude like maddy perez though… i mean he shouldn’t be turned on by that but GOD she acts and talks like she owns the shit, prance around in mini dresses and skirts, and perhaps she always does this thing with her mouth that just makes him want to bend her over and fuck the bratty attitude outta her
A/N: when I tell you this had me swooning, sheesh. The thought of Joel just getting so angry until he snaps and fucks you so roughly?! Damn. I got a lil carried away; I hope it’s okay for you, anon! 💜
Summary: You’re a good-looking woman and you know it, you know you could have any man you wants and you never wanted to work hard for it. Joel Miller was different.
Warnings: 18+, minors dni! Unprotected p in v (be better than them!), degrading, slight praise kink, oral (m receiving), age gap, some slapping and rough sex. It’s kinda just filth lol.
Characters: dbf!Joel Miller x bratty!reader (f)
Word Count: 4.9k (yes, I got carried away)
You knew you were attractive, it wasn’t cocky or ignorant but you knew it; ever since you started showing an interest in boys when you were a teen it was easy to get guys’ and never once had you struggled to have a boyfriend. 
You were in your mid-twenties now and that attitude had followed you; what you wanted, you got. Simple. Only now, it wasn’t that simple because you couldn’t get the one thing you wanted, or rather, who you wanted. 
Joel Miller was a family friend, you hadn’t overly paid much attention to him when you were younger, partly because you knew he wouldn’t be interested in a kid but also because you were distracted by boys your own age, you had constantly been parading a stream of jock’s and idiots around your dad, and therefore Joel. Your father and him worked together and played together, they spent most evenings in front of the TV watching sports and drinking beers. 
It was only now, it felt like an issue. Joel was a permanent fixture around your house and god, it fucked you off that you couldn’t seem to get him. 
———
It was a Friday evening, like normal, your father and Joel were in the kitchen talking about work and sports, drinking their beers. 
“Hi daddy.” You grinned innocently, kissing your dad’s cheek as you entered the kitchen. 
“Hey princess.” Your dad smiled back before giving you a small hug. 
Joel’s eyes tracked you when you entered the space, his eyes raked over you as you got on your tiptoes to hug your dad back and he couldn’t help the way he drank in your shapely legs; your mini skirt leaving very little the the imagination. 
“Hi Mr Miller.” You purred, batting your eyelashes at him blatantly. 
“Hi.” Joel replied gruffly. 
“What?” You asked, popping your hip to the side with attitude. “No hug for me?” You pouted, your glossy lips looking so kissable… so fuckable. 
Joel mentally cursed himself at the thought. You drove him insane with your short dresses and tight outfits and your constant pouting; he wanted to wrap his hand into your hair and bury his cock so deeply into your mouth and throat you would have tears staining your cheeks. 
“Joel.” You huffed, snapping your delicate fingers in his face. “I said. Do I not get a hug?” You rolled your eyes, Joel’s blood boiled at your attitude but he smiled through gritted teeth at you. 
“Oh of course, always a hug for my best girl.” He said, forcing himself to be charming. 
You giggled and bounded over to his, your breasts wobbling in the tight material of your white crop top. You wrapped your arms around him, around his neck and you brought your body tightly to his. He was so rough, so rugged and big and it made your core throb as you thought how it would feel to be fucked by him. 
Your dad was so oblivious to the way you acted around his friend, he was wrapped so tightly around your little finger that he rarely paid any attention to the way you reacted or dressed. He only cared if you were happy and cared for, whether that be with food, money or clothes. In his eyes, you could do no wrong and you were his world. 
“Daddy, I’m hungry.” You huffed, leaning over the kitchen counter to face him, Joel stood to your side. 
He was grateful you were no longer hugging him, he could feel every curve of your body and he was sure if you held on any longer you would have felt the hard curve of his cock in his jeans. His hand gently gripped the edge of the counter when he glanced down at you, he saw the material of your g-string thong showing so blatantly above the waistband of your skirt. If he was stood behind you, he would have seen the full view of your plump ass showing for anyone to take. 
“Funnily enough, Joel and I were discussing ordering a pizza in. Does that work for you, baby?” Your dad asked, turning to grab two more beers out of the fridge. 
“Ugh. No. Gross.” You whined, folding your arms over your chest in protest. “I want Thai food!”
Joel’s jaw clenched as you spoke, your demeanour and attitude begged to be attended to, begged to be sorted out and he knew how he could sort it. He would fuck you so hard and fast until you were drunk on his cock and so compliant for him. 
“I’m happy with whatever, Thai work okay for you, Miller?” Your dad said. 
“Uh,” Joel started and you turned to look at him, pouting once again with your bottom lip jutted out. There it was again, that face, it drove him insane every-time you did it. “Fine. Works fine!”
———
You finished up your food, you had all moved into the living room and you were sat crossed legged on the sofa, Joel was across from you and you could feel his eyes boring into you as you ate. You slurped up your noddles, being sure to exaggerate your lips even more as Joel watched you. 
“I’m going out in a bit, by the way. Can I have some money?” You asked sweetly to your dad. 
“Where are you going?” Asked your father casually, finishing up his own food. 
“Oh just out with the girls, Kara broke up with her boyfriend so we are gonna go out, get a little wild and see if we can find her a rebound.” You giggled. “Who knows; might find me another boy since things didn’t work out with Jacob.”
“Oh god, please don’t tell me details sweetheart, I don’t need to know what you plan on getting up to. Just as long as you’re safe and take protection with you.” Your dad laughed softly. “How much money do you want?”
“$150?” You asked. 
“Princess, I gave you $80 yesterday for some new clothes. How about $100?”
You whined, rolling your eyes. “You’re the worst but fine. Whatever. I’m going to get ready.” You huffed and stomped out of the room. 
Joel’s hands were clenched on the arm of the chair, you were such a brat and your father never seemed to care, never seemed to discipline you. He hated to admit it but your attitude just made you more attractive and it made his cock ache in his pants. 
He hadn’t paid much attention to you when you were a teen, he had no reason to as you were his friend’s kid but when you came back after dropping out of college and living off your dad, he noticed you more. You were still you; confident, bratty and sometimes rude but now you were a woman, you had curves and your attitude only drove him madder for you. Not that he wanted to cross that line, he wanted to remain stronger than that. 
The thought of you going out, with your friends no doubt dressed in something skimpy and revealing made Joel want to march up into your room, push your face into your mattress roughly and fuck the attitude right out of you. And the thought of you going home with some boy? Well that almost blinded him with pure rage. 
———
Your night out was uneventful; your friends and you had plenty of drinks and you had a good time but you didn’t find anyone to go home with, didn’t find anyone to take the edge off with. 
You yawned and stretched, rubbing your eyes gently to remove the final remnants of sleep from them. You checked your phone for a while, scrolling through the instagram posts your friends had put up from the night before and you smiled at them. Soon, your stomach rumbled and you decided it was finally time to venture out of your bed for food. 
You pulled on a pair of hot pant shorts, the material gripped your figure and barely covered the fullness of your ass and you paired it with a cami top, it was skin-tight and cropped just above your belly button. You walked down the stairs and wandered into your kitchen, you were greeted by Joel stood leant up against your kitchen counter, sipping coffee. 
He was wearing a tight t-shirt, the fabric hugged his arms perfectly and fitted slimly over his dad bod, he paired it with his usual pair of jeans. 
“Hi Mr Miller, what’re you doing here?” You said, your voice smooth. 
“Oh. Hi.” He mumbled, barely looking at you as you spoke. “Your dad,”
“Daddy.” You corrected with a raised brow. 
“Fine. Whatever. Your daddy and I had plans to go out to the lake today but he had to pop off to the work site we have been on all week, some sort of emergency that they needed the boss for.” He shrugged and his nonchalance drove you mad. “He said I should just hang out here until he got back, he said it shouldn’t take anymore than an hour or two but the site’s the other side of town so who knows.”
“Oh well. I’m hungry. You gonna make me breakfast or buy me something?” You asked, sauntering round so Joel was forced to look at you. 
It had been months of this now, constant teasing on your behalf, wearing next to nothing anytime the male was nearby, lingering touches to his hand or arm, you constantly eye-fucking him whenever he caught your gaze. You loved it, you knew it drove Joel mad and just as much as you wanted the male to make a move, part of the fun was teasing him so badly. 
Joel had spent more nights than he cared to admit, fisting his cock until he came apart in his hand to thoughts of you on your knees or you bent over so he could fuck every ounce of attitude out of you. 
“Joel.” You pouted, huffing loudly when he wasn’t paying any attention to you. You clapped in his face, abruptly pulling him from his filthy thoughts once again. 
He looked at you, there was that face again. His hands clenched into tight fists at his side and he rolled his eyes at you. 
“You want to learn some manners, young lady.” Joel said gruffly. 
“Yeah?” You asked, your eyebrow cocked up in question as your hand rested on your hip. “And who’s gonna teach me some manners? You?” You laughed. “Now. Breakfast. Hurry up and order something, yeah? I’m hungry. I’m gonna go shower whilst we wait.” You spoke softly but the rudely, your bratty tone oozed from each word. 
You turned on your heels to walk away after rolling your eyes at the older male once again. Before you were even able to reach the doorway of the kitchen you felt rough hands into your hair and you yelped loudly as you were tugged backwards. 
“What the fuck?!” You screamed, your loud voice boomed into the empty kitchen. 
Before you could push Joel off, he had you pinned up against the wall, one hand was still entangled in your locks and his other hand was holding your hip against the cool wood of your kitchen cabinets. 
“Get the fuck off of me.” You spat, trying to push Joel off of you. “Wait until daddy hears about this, you asshole. You’re hurting me!”
Joel barked out a laugh, it was sadistic and there was a sick smirk plastered over his features. 
“Now now, don’t act like this isn’t making your needy little cunt throb.” Joel whispered. “Think it’s about time to teach you some proper manners, since you can’t seem to find any.”
“I —“ you started but Joel pressed his lips roughly to yours, his fingers tightened their grip in your hair and manoeuvred your head to exactly the right angle he wanted. 
Your mouth opened willingly as Joel’s lips moved against yours, his tongue delved into your mouth and hungrily attacked every inch he could reach within your mouth. He could taste vanilla from your chapstick, he could smell your perfume wafting through his senses and it made his cock stiffen impossibly in his pants. 
“You’re going to get to your knees and you’re going to be a good little girl and suck my cock. Understood? Otherwise I’m sure your daddy would love to hear how you tried to seduce his best friend, wouldn’t want that to happen now, would you?” Joel smirked, tugging your hair roughly until you were sinking to your knees obediently. 
You looked up at him, through your lashes; you were the perfect sight, your plush lips were pouting again and Joel couldn’t wait until his cock was punishing your throat. Your head was swimming, you could still feel Joel’s fingers in your hair and you couldn’t deny the way your core throbbed with excitement. 
Joel’s free hand toyed with the buckle of his belt to undo the leather before he freed his member from his jeans and boxers, you gulped roughly as you stared at Joel’s cock in front of your face;  he was large, bigger than any other guy before him and he was impossibly thick. You knew taking him in was going to be a struggle but there was no denying that you couldn’t wait to try. 
You leant forward and let your tongue kitten lick at the tip of his cock, a familiar salty tang hit your tastebuds and it made your mouth water; you wanted more. You opened your mouth, your tongue out flat and you pushed your head forward until you were enveloping his member into the hot, wet embrace of your mouth. 
Joel peered down at you, he could see down the front of your cami as you leant forward, your hands laid obediently in your lap; he could see the soft peaks of your breasts and noticed the way your nipples had hardened under his gaze. Your eyes fluttered shut as you tried to sink your mouth down fully onto Joel’s cock but before you could reach the base, he hit the back of your throat which caused you to gag. 
Joel laughed sadistically again, his fingers pressed into your skull as your locks entangled further around his fingers and as soon as he felt the resistance, he pushed your head down harder until his cock nudged into your throat deeper. You breathed through your nose, and your eyes screwed shut as you tried not to gag again. 
“So pathetic,” Joel barked, pulling his hips back to snap forward again until you gagged once more. “Can’t even take my cock properly. Thought you were a big girl, huh?”
You fluttered your eyes open to look up at Joel, your mouth stretched around his cock as he fucked into your mouth roughly.
“Can’t back-chat now, can you, little girl?” Joel smirked, his spare hand coming up to caress your cheek softly. 
You couldn’t help but lean into the tender touch, your head lulled to the side ever-so and Joel smirked as he removed his hand just to bring it down with a harsh slap. You whimpered around his length and Joel slapped you again, your cheek stung but you focused on the feeling of Joel filling your mouth. 
He roughly held your cheek and used your head as leverage to roughly fuck into your mouth. Spit spilled from your swollen lips, it dribbled down your chin and you could tell that you were a mess. Tears pricked your eyes as you continuously gagged as his cock bruised your throat. You couldn’t wait until you could still feel him later, to be reminded of this moment. 
Joel groaned roughly as he watched you, for once you weren’t able to pout, you weren’t able to back chat him or give him attitude. You were being just what he wanted; willing to give and so obedient. 
“Good girl, taking me better now, aren’t you?” Joel cooed. “What would you do if your daddy came in and saw you like this? Crying around my cock, spit running down your chin. Dirty girl.”
You whimpered pathetically, your chest was heaving with each word and you couldn’t help but feel the panic rise in you, you were in plain sight of the front door. If your father came in now, you would be a dead woman walking. Joel abruptly pulled his length from your mouth, it made an obscene popping noise and your mouth fell agape softly, you felt so empty as soon as Joel left you. 
You absently wiped at your chin with the back of your hand and Joel pulled your hair until you were on your feet once again. Laboured breaths left your swollen lips and you stared blankly at Joel, all attitude seemingly had been fucked out of your mouth and your brain was filled with thoughts of Joel and nothing else. 
“Upstairs. Undress now. Get upstairs and lay on your bed face down, with your needy cunt ready for me.” Joel grunted, releasing your hair from his grip. 
Your fingers massaged at your scalp softly where Joel’s grip had been, your skin aches deliciously. 
“Don’t make me repeat myself, now be a good girl and go.” He spoke gruffly, his fingers dug into the small of your back and nudged your forward. 
You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, you hadn’t seen Joel like this before and part of you wanted to laugh at this tough bravado he was putting on. 
Joel noticed it, of course he did and he quickly slammed your body into the wall; it knocked the air out of your lungs and you gasped in shock. 
“W-what?!” You stammered out. “I was just doing as you told, I was about to go upstairs. Isn’t that what you wanted?” You asked innocently, a small smirk spreading over your lips. You couldn’t help yourself. 
“Guess I haven’t fucked the attitude out of you enough yet.” 
You shrugged under the weight of Joel’s arm holding you against the wall, a shit-eating smirk only growing as you saw the frustration bubble in his features. 
“Guess not. Gonna have to try harder than that, old man.” You grinned. 
Joel’s hand clenched at his side, you could see his skin turning white with the effort of it and it only made you grin further. You let out a small laugh. 
The older male’s face was straight, his features were cold like a stone statue but you could feel and see his anger in his eyes. He took his arm that was pinning you down and instead wrapped his hand around your throat, his fingers squeezed you pulse points gently and you moaned. 
“Knew you would like that. See, I was going to give you the pleasure of a soft bed but now I’m thinking I should bend you right over the kitchen table.” Joel said with a raised brow and you nodded weakly. 
He took his free hand and dipped it into the waistband of your pants; without warning his fingers slipped between your slick folds. He looked into your eyes, his gaze locked on yours as his fingers toyed with your swollen clit. He cocked a brow in question as your slick juices coated his fingers. 
“So fuckin’ wet for me, little girl. You like being treated like a dumb little slut, huh?” 
You nodded dumbly, your voice didn’t seem to function correctly and it’s all you could muster up. Joel’s fingers gripped tighter at your throat, the sensation made your head dizzy and all you could do was whimper weakly at the male. 
“Answer me.” Joel growled, his hand releasing your throat to slap at your cheek once again. 
“Y-yes, yes I do!” You spluttered out. 
“Right answer.” Joel hissed as his fingers circled around your clit. 
As much as he loved teasing you, he couldn’t wait any longer and he needed to hear how you sounded as you came around his fingers. You moaned, his fingers sped up and he roughly plunged two fingers into your greedy heat. Your eyes fell shut as Joel pumped his digits quickly, with the angle of his wrist, the heel of his palm nudged against your sensitive clit with each thrust of his fingers. You gripped weakly at his arms as he fucked into your hole with his fingers, his other hand squeezed your neck again and he smirked when you moaned louder. 
“Come on, little girl, you can do better than that. Tell me how good my fingers feel? Huh? You wanna be a brat? Tell me how good I’m making you feel.” 
“Joel,” you gasped, your fingers scratching at his skin in vein. “Feels s-so good. Can’t take it much more. You feel so good, I just need your cock filling up my hole. Please. Fuck.” You rambled, you weren’t even sure if your sentences were coherent. 
“Patience. I want you to cum on my fingers. Now be a good little slut and do it for me. Hm? You wanna be all big and bratty, now cum on my fingers.” He growled lowly, his lips ghosted over your own and you pouted when he retreated as you tried to kiss him. “Stop pouting.”
Joel’s voice was gruff, it sent shivers down your spine and he pulled his fingers out to slap at the sensitive skin of your vagina. You whined and just as quickly as he pulled them out, he pressed his fingers back into you and deeper this time, they nudged at your g-spot which caused your legs to buckle underneath you. Joel laughed, he shook his head and held your hip roughly, pinning you back in place. 
His fingers sped up, with each thrust the tip of his fingers rubbed over your g-spot and his palm rubbed over your clit; you were seeing stars and you knew your orgasm was about to crash over you. You clenched around Joel’s fingers and he knew the telltale signs, he kept his movements consistent and your fingers gripped roughly at Joel’s arms, searching for leverage to keep yourself upright. 
“C’mon darlin’, is this all you’ve got? C’mon cum for me, be a good girl.” Joel whispered. “That’s it. Atta girl. Such a good girl.” Joel praised when he felt your walls flutter around his fingers. 
You came apart almost instantly when Joel spoke to you, your legs were shaking as they fought to keep you standing as Joel’s fingers fucked you through your orgasm. Tears spilled from the corner of your eyes as you slowly came down from your intense orgasm. 
Joel kissed your temple, it was a tender moment in the midst of his dominant act and it made your heart flutter rapidly. 
“Bend over the kitchen table. I need to bury my cock into your pretty little cunt before your daddy gets home. Need you thinking about my cock for days after.”
Joel removed his fingers from your pants and before you could move, he pressed his slicked fingers to your mouth. 
“Open.” He stated and with that, you opened your mouth and sucked in his digits.
He groaned as your tongue swirled around his thick fingers and you moaned as you tasted yourself on him. It was by far one of the filthiest things you had done, if anyone else tried it you would have slapped them and walked out but it was Joel, he was so perfect and you couldn’t say no. 
“Table.” Joel said, shrugging towards the kitchen table. 
You nodded, walking shakily over to the table. You shimmed your hot pants over your ass and bent over for Joel to take you as he pleased. He hadn’t bothered to pack away his hard, leaking cock and as he walked over to you, he stroked himself a few times just to stave off the throbbing. You watched on in awe, your head resting in your arms as Joel’s hand worked his cock. 
“Please.” You whimpered, rubbing your thighs together in need. 
“Beg for it. Beg for my cock and I’ll fill you up so good, I promise.” Joel groaned, standing behind you now. He kicked apart your feet and slapped his heavy cock against your wet pussy. 
“Please Joel, I need it so bad. I want it so bad. Please. I don’t beg, usually. I’m a mess here, never wanted anything so bad. I need you.” You all but sobbed, your watery eyes peering behind you, searching for the older male.  
Joel let out a breathy chuckle, he pressed his hot cock-head to your hole and without a second thought, he thrust forward roughly. It felt like he was splitting you open and you relished in the stinging sensation of your walls stretching around him. He captured one of your hips in his large palm and he pulled out of you before thrusting back into you with fervour. His other hand weaved its way into your soft locks again, pressing your head roughly into the table. Part of you registered a dull pain but all you could focus on was the feeling of Joel’s cock filling you up. 
You moaned pathetically under him, your hands pawed at the smooth wood of your kitchen table and you whimpered as you searched for something to grip. 
“Such a good little cocksleeve for me, hm?” Joel groaned. 
You nodded weakly under Joel’s hand, as the table bit into the skin of your hips; you knew there were going to be bruises later but for now, Joel’s cock worked into you continuously and it made you dizzy. 
“I said,” Joel grunted, his hips slapping against your ass. “You’re such a good cocksleeve. It’s all you’re good for, isn’t it?” Joel asked. 
“Y-yes. It’s all I’m good for!” You w confirmed shakily. 
“Good girl, good little slut for me; your dad’s best friend, a man who is almost double your age. What a naughty little brat. Hopefully this’ll teach you some goddamned manners going forward.” Joel spoke, it felt as if with each word, he thrusted into you twice as hard. 
You were a mess under Joel, a mess of moans and begs tumbling from your lips carelessly; his cock was making you dumber with each thrust. You couldn’t even muster a coherent sentence even if you tried, let alone a bratty response. You had finally got the person you wanted the most and it was even better than you could have imagined. 
“Gonna, gonna,” you whimpered as Joel’s cock nudged deep into your walls. 
“Mhm, course you are. Pathetic. Little. Slut.” Joel cursed, his hips landing bruising contact against your ass. 
It was such a stark contrast to how Joel carried himself in his day-to-day life, he was usually pleasant and so charming. Not dominant and with a filthy mouth at all. It drove you insane though, his words mixed with his abusing pace of his cock, it had you tumbling into your orgasm abruptly. 
Your cheeks were stained with tears, you were completely at Joel’s will and you were willing to do anything the male asked for. Never before had you cum from just a guy fucking you, and never this intensely. Your stomach felt tight as your walls gripped and milked Joel; his hips stuttered as you came, your grip on his cock was enough for him to spill his hot seed into your greedy hole. Joel’s large hands pawed at your ass, his gripped the flesh roughly as he fucked himself through the aftershocks of his orgasm, his body shuddered and he slipped out of you when he finished. 
You made a small noise as your body stayed in place bent over the table, you could feel Joel’s hot cum dripping down your inner thigh and it made you moan softly. 
“You still wanna act like a brat?” Joel asked, his soft hand stroking at your lower back. 
You shook your head no with a lazy, complacent smile on your lips. 
“Good girl, don’t you forget who’s in charge here. Act like a brat again and I’ll have to punish you again.” Joel whispered as he leant down to kiss your cheek softly. “Now go clean up, you’re a mess and your daddy will be home soon. I’ll order something for breakfast, too.” He smirked, packing himself away into his jeans again. 
You let out a breathy laugh as you pushed your body off the table, you winced as your back adjusted to being stood again and you grabbed your hot pants off the floor before leaving to go shower. 
“I want pancakes!” You demanded from the stairs. 
“‘I wants’ don’t get, darlin’. Try again.” Joel retorted. 
“Fine. Please can I get some pancakes?” You huffed softly, rolling your eyes again; you were just grateful that the male couldn’t see you this. 
“Looks like my cock worked, then. Good job.” He cooed. 
Your legs shook as they carried you upstairs, you finally got who you wanted and you knew it would only be a matter of time until you had him again. 
————————
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503 notes · View notes
biancadjarin · 1 year
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ʚ Send Me an Angel ɞ
- pairing: mean!eddie munson x bratty!henderson older sister!female reader
- content warning: 18+ nothing too graphic, but I prefer no minors on my blog, thankssss
- a/n: idk what this is lol, I just love fem/bratty reader and intimidating/mean Eddie <3
“Ugh why do your weird nerdy friends have to come here Dusty??” you pout at your little brother as you lay on your stomach on your bed, him staring at you from your doorway.
“I told you, the drama kids are putting on a play or some shit so we can’t play D&D in there.” He says to you like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Just stay in here, my friends don’t wanna listen to your stupid shows on the TV or watch you dance around to your girly music.” He slams your door shut and your head shoots up off a pillow, shocked at how rude he can be. You scoff and roll onto your back, eyes growing heavy and leading you into your after school nap.
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You’re rudely awakened by loud laughter and yelling. You look at the pink clock on your wall. 6:05pm. Their little game has only been going for 5 minutes and you’re already annoyed. You get up and head to your door, swinging it open and heading towards the bathroom for a quick shower before you go make yourself some dinner.
“C’mon Eddie, I wanna cast a spell, hurry up and roll!” you hear Mike Wheeler yell. Little twerp just like your brother. Always running into the house, tracking in dirt, leaving their bikes in the drivew… Wait. Eddie. Eddie’s here. In your dining room. You’ve had a crush on Eddie all year and while you two have talked here and there, you’d be lying if you said his harsh leather metal head look didn’t scare you a bit. You’re all soft edges, pink backpack, frilly white socks rolled over your reeboks, soft hair swaying. You’re not perfect, certainly no Phoebe Cates. But you know you’re pretty, plush lips over straight teeth, cute perky boobs and a butt that jiggles when you walk.
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You’ve felt Eddie’s eyes on you at school. Once he even bumped into you when you stopped short to tie your shoe. “Walk much?” Eddie said to you with a glare. “Oh!” You’d said as you spun around, surprised at his proximity. “S-sorry.” You said sweetly, his big brown eyes stared at you and made your tummy flutter in the most amazing way. Your tummy isn’t flat and perfect but that’s ok. You like cookies too much, is that a crime?!
“Actually since you’re here, can you hold my books while I tie my shoes?” you’d asked, voice smooth and sweet like syrup. Eddie stared at you for a second then put out his hands. You assumed that meant yes so you handed him your heavy textbooks. You turned and bent forward, ass almost grazing his crotch. The way the fabric of your white jeans stretched across your cute little butt made him stop breathing. Eddie’s mind went blank, mouth going dry and fingers going numb from the weight. Your textbooks slipped out of his hands and hit the floor with a slam. You squeaked a scared little scream and stood back up quickly. “Shit are you okay?” Eddie asks you as he drops down and picks the books back up, placing them gently into your small hands. “I’m fine. Was just loud. Scared me.” He chuckled, eyes narrowed and and flickered with mischief, making you wonder if he did that on purpose. “I’m sorry angel… I mean-” Your reaction to his nickname for you got cut short when you jumped for the second time in the last two minutes thanks to the class bell ringing. “Gotta go.” Eddie said with a wink before racing past you, your face red with embarrassment.
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You giggle at the memory as you exit the shower. Quickly running back to your room to get ready, you think to yourself: How can I get Eddie’s attention but not let him know he has mine? I think he likes me but I don’t wanna look too desperate. Gotta tease him a bit… You curl your lashes and put on your sparkly pink lipgloss. You open your closet and weigh your options… tight jeans?… but you want Eddie to see your panties. A dress? that’s a little too obvious… your fingers reach for your soft pink frilly mini skirt that has a matching jacket that your friend borrowed and never gave back. You slip it on, white and pink lace panties underneath with a scalloped edge that hug your ass just right. A simple white T shirt that’s slightly see through over a matching pink and white lace bra and a couple sparkly silver necklaces finish your outfit. Barefoot you begin to creep downstairs, the sounds of boys whooping and dice hitting your wooden dining room table growing louder as you ascend.
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“So uh, where’s your sister D?” you hear one of the boys ask. You stop on the second to last step, leaning in to listen. It’s not Eddie’s voice, but too deep to be Mike or Lucas’s. “Up in her room, she’s so annoying.” You roll your eyes. “Maybe..” Gareth grumbles. “But I certainly don’t mind lookin’ at her.” Everyone busts out into laughter except your brother. “Ew dude gross! Shut up, it’s your turn.” “Yeah G,” you finally hear Eddie’s voice, it sounds deep and tight like he’s clenching his jaw. “Roll the dice before I write you out of this whole campaign.” “Jeez fine. I got a 12.” “Not enough, you lose 18 hit points.” “What the fuck man!”
As the game continues you saunter past the table, only turning your head once to smile and wave politely at the group. You feel Eddie’s eyes follow you all the way to the kitchen. Their conversation continues on, sounding further away now. You begin to warm up some rice and leftover chicken, mixing up a strawberry lemonade while the microwave whirs. As you watch the yellow drink turn pink you feel a warmth encroach your space, the smell of weed and cinnamon gum filling your nostrils.
“Hey y/n.. didn’t know you were here.” Eddie says as he stands behind you. Closer than what would be considered normal. You spin around, big doe eyes looking up and meeting his, small silver spoon that you were mixing with coming up to your lips and sucking, savoring the tangy powder. His eyes fall to your mouth, half hooded, eyebrows raising slightly. You pull it out slowly and lick the tip of it with your tongue, before saying “I live here. Where else would I be?” in your bratty tone.
He shrugs his shoulders, “Friday night, thought maybe you’d be on a date.” He says with a crooked smile. Does he think about me going on dates? He crowds closer into your space, you feel the countertop at your back as you lean against it. “Nope. No date. Maybe you can set me up with one of your friends?” you say as you look past him, over his shoulder towards where Hellfire is. “My friends? You wanna date one of us?” “I don’t know.. maybe. You think they’d be interested?” you ask him confidently but your heart is beating so fast, your breath uneven, chest rising with every shaky inhale. BEEEEEP. The microwave signals behind you. “Eddie! You done in the bathroom yet?!” you hear your brother yell from down the hall. “Sounds like you’re needed out there.” You say to him, beginning to slide past him. His hand shoots up to grab your hip and maneuver you back. Caged in by him.
“Yeah, gimme five minutes!” He yells over his shoulder. You stare up at him, unsure what he’s going to do. He reaches behind you picking up your pink lemonade and drinks the whole thing in one long sip. You watch as his neck stretches back and his adams apple bobs when he swallows. The pale smooth skin of his neck looking irresistibly bite-able. “Sweet. Like you.” He says, low and gravelly. He puts the glass down and drops his chin to his chest, looking at the small space between your bodies. “Is this a skirt or a belt? So fuckin’ short I thought I saw some ass when you walked by.” “Maybe I wanted your friend to see. What’s his name? With the curls… Gareth?” Eddie snorts and throws his head back with a mock laugh. “Gareth wouldn’t know what to do with you.” His eyes sweep down your neck, your chest and stop at where the thin fabric of your shirt and lace bra are barely doing anything to cover the pebbled peaks of your nipples. “Oh and you know what to do with me?” you ask, eyebrows raising condescendingly. He exhales a low growl before reaching to grab the back of your squishy thighs and lifting you up onto the counter.
“I’d have a lot of fun finding out-” he leans forward, hands softly grasping the back of your calves, thumbs rubbing up and down the smooth skin as he guides them to rest around his thighs. “Angel.” he says with a wink. You feel a shudder go through you, ending at your core and making you ache between your legs. Eddie’s standing between your spread thighs, the rough fabric of his black jeans rubbing against your legs as he talks. Everything about him feels so warm. “Listen to me real good now.” He says, lips brushing the shell of your ear causing goosebumps to erupt down the whole left side of your body. “You’re going to eat your little snack. Then go back upstairs to your room and wait for me. Think you can do that?” He doesn’t wait for you to respond before he’s backing away and walking back down the hallway. “EDDIE COME OOON!” Gareth yells. “Comin’!” He says back, wide smirk dancing on his lips.
You’re left in the kitchen wondering what just happened and what you just got yourself into…
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Part 2 HERE
Masterlist HERE
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californiangirl · 1 year
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⊱⋅ ───── ⋅⊰✦ CALIFORNIAN GIRL.🐝
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[ MOODBOARD ]
✦ㅡ 𝘍𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘳!𝘙𝘪𝘤𝘩!𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥!𝘏𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘺 𝘊𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘹 𝘐𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵!𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘢-𝘯𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘺!𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘺!𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳.
IMAGINE, that Henry loves it when his wife's innocent niece comes to spend a season on his luxurious farm, getting to fuck her in the stables, on the lake, in his truck, in the woods, in the barn and in his own bed.
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remusslove · 10 months
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bratty! Little reader x lily pleasee
“Cmon princess, you love this sweater” lily tried to reason with you, holding the sweater on top of your head. You pouted even more. You didn’t want to wear a jumper over your favorite shirt. What you also didn’t understand is that it was freezing outside.
But nonetheless you crossed your arms. “It’s winter darling, your gonna freeze” you turn around and continue putting your socks on. “Love I’m being serious. Time to put it on” her tone made you hesitant.
“Don’t wanna! Tis’ gonna wuin my outfit!” She sighed and pulled your body farther onto the bed. You kicked her arm away and yelped once she pinched your thigh. Needing the slightly irritated flesh and kissing it softly. she pats your butt and you instinctively stand up walking out the door right behind her.
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youandtom2 · 2 years
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i WANT peter to lose his temper with me.
Temper? Lost it, mate.
Themes: Rough smut (18+), Dom!Peter, bratty!reader, unprotected sex! and other kinky stuff, aftercare too :) also this is waaaaay longer and probs unedited towards the end cos it's 3:30AM
Don't You Dare
There are a number of reasons why somebody would lose their temper and for the average person, stress, depression, financial difficulties, family issues, and drugs and alcohol are just some of those reasons. Perhaps if you were prone to anger, something as simple as losing a game could even trigger an outburst. It's basic human function to want to liberate the anger that bubbles inside you and when it finally happens the tension unwinds. You recall the last time you lost your temper when some asshole unapologetically pushed your friend walking past her on the streets and she fell to the floor in a stumble. You berated him, shouting and screaming profanities at him with such raw emotion and it felt good to release that unrestrained character in an otherwise overly-polite society.
It was an instance when you realised that losing your temper provided others with a snapshot of someone's true character, see what they're capable of. And the same epiphany washed over you again the night Peter lost his temper with you.
Peter's outrage initially stemmed from losing fight after fight with an enemy he had been battling for months. He had truly met his match because every single encounter ended with Peter barely managing to escape and returning to you bloodied, bruised and boiling with an irrefutable rage that he couldn't simmer. It soured his mood being physically, mentally and emotionally belittled by this guy and you tried so hard to pick him back up again, giving him the shelter, the care, the support he needed before he faced him again but he valued none of it, too distracted by his plans for retribution to thank you. Every priority of yours was Peter. Every worry was Peter. Every fibre of your being existed for Peter. All this time, your thoughts were on Peter. But for him? His stayed rooted on that...guy. He was obsessed and if loving him wasn't going to shift that obsession, what could?
The more Peter devoted himself to defeating his enemy, the more you questioned the integrity of your selflessness because you were fed up, the whole routine was becoming tedious and tiresome. And okay, you weren't going to lie - maybe you were jealous. It was sick and wrong but you envied the villainous psychopath that was single-handedly stealing your boyfriend's attention away from you all the time. The same villain that turned you into the side-character in Peter's quest while he promoted himself to the main protagonist. So you figured that if you were to truly have Peter's attention for yourself, to have his whole mind, body and soul focussed on you, you needed to gain it. Gain it like that villain does.
So you made him lose his temper with you.
~~~~~
He's calling you again. It's late, it's dark and he's calling you for a pickmeup. There isn't a doubt in your mind that another one of his little standoffs with his obsession has gone wrong, and he needs you to save him, to be there for him like he expects you to be.
Not tonight, Peter.
You tell yourself he's fine and ignore the shrill ringing of your phone. You pan your attention back to the book you're reading, flipping through the pages without giving Peter a second thought.
The evening drifts in, time passing with rain battering against your window, the silhouettes of each little raindrop projected onto the page of your book by the orange lamp post outside. You turn the page, eyes expecting to see the words in front of you but the light dims and a bold shadow casts over your lap. Slowly, cautiously, your head peers towards your window to find Spider-Man, Peter, crouching upon the beams of your window sill. Without a word, he slithers in with a slight pant to his breath, perching himself onto your bed with his back leaning against the wall while you watch calmly. The raindrops drip from his curls to trace over the sharp angles of his cheeks, his jaw, the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallows thickly. Watching him triggers you to do the same knowing what's ahead.
When he finally speaks, his voice is hoarse and his cheeks have already started to flush angrily. "Where the fuck were you?"
To further vex him, you deliberately leave him waiting, firstly finishing the page you're on before calling out. "I was here."
"I called you."
"I ignored it." Peter presumed that you were going to come up with some sort of excuse, so when you blurt out the truth he tilts his head with those wide eyes boring into you. You, however, remain heavily occupied by your book.
"You ignored me," he clarifies. "When I was out there fighting, when I was trying to protect the city, when I was hurt...You. Ignored. Me?"
Your eyes barely budge from the page. "Yup." Pop the 'p'. Make him mad.
"Why?"
"Felt like it." The smile painted across your lips is sickly sweet and patronising that it has Peter twitching his brows in frustration. "Thought I would give you two a little more bonding time."
"Excuse me?"
"You know, you've spent so much time obsessing over him that I can't tell whether you're fighting him or fucking him." Eventually your head tilts up and your eyes meet his, his expression stuck in a stupor that's falling closer and closer to something a little more aggravated to your success. Peter brings himself up onto his knees in front of you, nevertheless you persist. "Or maybe it's both..."
Suddenly, an hysterical laugh cracks from his throat - only slightly wheezy - twisting his mask playfully in his hands and it catches you completely off-guard.
"Are you for real?"
Not a muscle moves out of place and not a word is muttered. You sit stone cold like a statue while he leans closer, spitting his words again like you didn't hear him the first time.
"Are you...fucking...for real?" A moment passes and when you deem him invariably vexed, you pan back to the book in front of you like Peter is a mere speck of dust floating in your bubble. Not a second later, it's violently ripped from your hands and thrown across the room and clatters against your bookcase. You don't even get to see what mess it makes because your jaw is snatched in his hand with a sharp squeak following behind it. "What is the matter with you? Huh? I get beat up to shit and you wanna be a brat?" Peter finds his answer in the way your eyes nervously flit to his lips noting how his jaw tenses. "You've got to be kidding me," he chuckles, chagrined.
Just when you think you're making progress, he releases his hold on your jaw and begins sauntering away from your bed in disbelief. "Nah, I'm not doing this."
In a moment of blind panic, you splutter something you'll know you'll regret later, but you're so close, so close to gaining what you've wanted for so long.
"Of course you're walking away. No wonder you get beat to shit, you're too weak." The words leave a bitter aftertaste in your mouth because you know you're never one to say something so cruel, so unprovoked, but you're desperate.
He stops. Turns. Pins you with his gaze and clicks his jaw. At first, he says nothing, letting the rain batting against your window fill the silence. Your heart is beating a million miles per hour and you're pretty sure he can hear that too.
"Weak?"
"Too weak." Aggravate. Irritate. Fuel the fire. Belittle him like his enemy does.
"And you think mocking me isn't going to get you hurt?"
Fuck.
"Because believe me," he says slowly, creeping closer until he has the pinch of your chin between his fingers. "I'm about to snap. And it'll to be you that'll be too weak to take it."
A breath, a gulp, and then..."Prove it."
When you told yourself you wanted Peter to lose his temper with you, you expected him to yell at you just like what you did with that guy on the street, hell, even throw things or have an emotional breakdown, as long as it was something that means you have his full, undivided attention. Then, once the yelling match had started, you would argue and prove your point to him that this would be the first time in months that he's focused on anything other than himself or his enemy, that you're fed up of unrequited love, pleading your case in the hopes that he would surrender and realise he's in the wrong.
That's not what happens at all.
Peter shows no hesitation when he pushes you hard against the bed with his hand coiling around the column of your neck and squeezing tightly. With no where else to look but up at him, his whole body quivers uncontrollably and you're not quite sure whether it's shivers from the rain or the full extent of his rage, regardless, it makes him look all the more threatening. He doesn't yell, in fact he doesn't say a word and the only breakdown you see is the barrier that holds back his anger, now free and untamed.
He holds you there long enough to have you spluttering underneath him, where your body begins to squirm at the weight of his pelvis mounting down onto yours.
"Is this how desperate you are, that you would go to the lengths of being a fucking brat to get what you want?"
"Well it works for him, doesn't it?"
"Don't you dare," he growls, his hand anchoring down a little heavier. "Why would you-" Peter stops himself and you watch the realisation gloss over his eyes. He lets loose just a stutter of a laugh, shaking his head and by the way he looks at you so disapprovingly, you know he's figured you out. "Oh, I get it." You feel his knees lock themselves tightly against the side of his hips and his head dips lower and lower until his lips brush the tips of yours. "This is all a cry for help, right?"
"You abandon me, Peter, all for that fucking asshole that does nothing but piss you off and beat you up. I'm the one looking out for you--"
"So your solution is to piss me off, annoy me like he does and expect me to retaliate and satisfy your needs. That was your plan?"
You slowly blink up at him, nodding your head with what room Peter allows you.
"Well it's a stupid fucking plan because you've got it all wrong. If you wanted my attention, all you had to do was ask for it."
You lick your lips, hesitant to fall bait to his trap. "Please-" you whisper.
"Nuh-uh. You're too late, sweetheart. I'm already furious with you. If that's what you wanted, that's what you get." His words bite at your skin with each syllable stabbing deeper and deeper into your apprehension. You don't get the chance to get your breath back when he yanks at your hands, holding them higher above you to attach them to your headboard, bound together with a single thwip! of his web shooters. Peter remains straddling your lap while he rips open your pyjama t-shirt in one swift movement and with a yelp from your throat, you flush at the sudden vulnerability.
Those fiery eyes roam your body, scheming and planning every precise movement that would inflict the harshest punishment your bratty nature deserves. Weak. The word runs circles around his head, taunting him in a choir of voices, ones that have previously spat the word to him...including yours. There isn't much he could do about the other voices, but he has you right there beneath him. He could deal with you right here, right now. He could snuff out that voice easily.
Peter pinches the buds of your nipples between his fingers, rolling them and plucking at them until he hears your groans grow louder. The pain is delicious, so overly stimulating that it's only beginning to make up for the absence of Peter's affection over the last few months. But you're needing more...
A sharp gasp floods your lungs the moment Peter takes your tits into his mouth, sucking and biting anywhere he can sink his teeth into. Peter keeps his eyes firmly on you while he salaciously swirls his tongue around the bud, nipping it with his teeth when you find yourself sinking too comfortably into the feeling. It's only when he pulls away do you see yourself being littered with patches of blue and purple, and scarred with teeth marks.
"Weak." He spits. "I'll show you what happens when you call me weak." His mouth travels further and further down your body and settles comfortably into a pattern of kissing, biting and licking your skin, that is until he meets the rim of your pyjama shorts, the only layer of clothing left to protect your modesty. As he pulls them down your legs, he deliberately pulls your body as far as your bounds would allow, stretching out the muscles in your arms until they're seizing with tension.
"Ah!"
"What's wrong? Too weak to take it?" You writhe and meekly moan as an alternative to the truth.
There's only a second of relief; the grip of Peter's hands loosens and leaves a trace of goosebumps as they feather up to the curve of your waist until, once again, his hold tightens, pulling and stretching. Your muscles start to burn.
"You feel that?" he asks, voice dark and weighty with malice. "You feel that stretch?" He gives a quick tug and you immediately respond.
"Yes!"
"That's nothing compared to how it's going to feel when I stretch you out with my cock, when I fuck that bratty attitude out of you. I was already pissed off when I came here, but now you've just tipped me over the edge." Nonsensical sounds dribble from your mouth in a concoction of pain and pleasure, giddy with the gift of Peter's undivided attention and an insight to his darker character. The tatty, torn suit falls from him revealing a body adorned with small, leaking cuts made to look miniscule by the sheer size of his muscles. When he resumes his position in between your legs, you can't stop the wanton mewl that spills from your lips. Peter smiles wickedly at the sound.
Suddenly, his fingers feather up and down the length of your slit and you instantly shiver. You indulge in it so much that you forget what Peter demands of you, but there's nothing like a harsh slap to your cunt to serve as a reminder.
"Tell me how much you want it."
"So badly-fuck! I want you, I need you - oh - " his fingers begin circling your clit, "Peter, please."
He speeds up, he's almost vigorous. "Do you have any idea how much I want to say no to you right now for being a fucking brat. Look at me--" He springs forward and catches the line of your jaw in his hand, still tormenting your bud with the other. "But I guess you're right: it's been far too long and I need to get rid of this frustration one way or another."
Peter diverts his eyes to your aching bud, watching his own movements as he swipes his fingers back and forth over and over again in a brutal attempt to make you cum. But he gets too impatient, too clumsy that you can't quite catch the wave of release building inside you and he's very capable of sensing that. He lets loose a raging grunt from his throat and finally snaps.
"Fuck this!" Your heart skips a beat, stomach twisting the moment his hot mouth latches onto your pussy, subjected to the delicious lashings of his tongue, eager to taste every part of you.
You've never seen Peter so out of control before; so unreserved that you determine he's been bottling this anger up for far too long and suddenly every reason to lose his temper has made itself apparent to him. He's finally feeling that sweet relief of tension now he's given it free rein. You're still yet to decide, though, whether that has placed you in an fortunate position or not...
Recklessly, Peter lifts your hips higher into the air and dives deeper into your core, caressing the sensitive nerves with generosity and it winds you up perfectly. You can feel the squeeze in your stomach getting ready to snap.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, Peter. Oh my god, please, I'm gonna cum. Ah!" A piercing scream leaps from your throat as Peter lands a harsh slap to the back of your thighs and proceeds to suckle harder, scaring you into submission like scaring a horse to run faster. It becomes too insatiable and with Peter eating you out like you are the elixir of life, you come undone in a matter of seconds with a burst of euphoria. A tsunami of heat consumes your entire body and it burns more ferociously everytime any one of your muscles tenses.
Satisfied, Peter departs with a tantalising kiss to your clit, dragging it out with his teeth before it releases with a pop. Once again, he brings down a forceful slap onto your other thigh, paired with the demand to turn and get onto your knees...which you do almost immediately. Your arms are slightly contorted but it doesn't matter when Peter hooks onto the crooks of your hips and yanks back, suddenly forcing your face deep into the sheets and your ass to clash with his now bare hips.
He teases a little, just ever so slowly pushing the head of his cock through the remnants of your slick that drips from your core, right up until it nudges your pulsing clit. His cock twitches at the slight hiccup and with what he wants to do to you, he knows it's only going to be the first of many.
"I'm gonna give you one chance to apologise for what you've done, sweetheart." The nickname's patronising, mocking.
Your survival instincts instantly tell you you should. But of course, you listen to the devil sitting proudly on your shoulder because that's who's been supplying your addiction to Peter's undivided attention, but it doesn't feel enough to be high on him, you need to be drunk on him too. And so, with such conviction that will be the death of you, you deliberately add fuel to the fire.
"Not a chance. I'm not as weak as you are."
"You little fuck."
With full, merciless force, he plunges into you. "Oh my God!" Your cries comes out cracked and broken much to Peter's delight.
Like a tyrant, he allows you no time to adjust and you swear you feel something snap inside you, the pain metastasising as quickly as it did the first time Peter fucked you, but it's over in seconds and you quickly find pleasure in his virile thrusts. The sound of his hips firing into yours is broken up with the even harsher sound of his hand cracking across your ass. No soothing relief after - just slap after slap until Peter eyes the cherry-red hand print visible on your skin. A soft whimper fills his ears.
"You provoke me, you deal with the consequences. God, fuck! I'm so fucking angry with you."
Your bed creaks loudly underneath you, threatening to fall apart if Peter doesn't relent, and with his frustration only fuelling his lust, it hardly seems likely he will.
"So fucking tight." He's in and out, in and out, taking the time to fully pull from you only to slam back in with the intention of stretching you further and wider. Peter's driven by the idea that the harder he fucks you, the more pleasure he'll feel when he reaches the parts of you he hasn't before, and just when he's within reach of the tip of your cervix, he pauses with a breath caught in his lungs. Fully submerged, he stops to grind your hips against his hilt to feel the tight grip of your cunt around him and you both release a wail that resonates in each other's ears. You clench harder and Peter buckles, your back taking the brunt of his weight where his chin hooks over your shoulder.
He doesn't know what motivates him to lick the outer shell of your ear, but he does it anyway, leaving behind words of a warning.
"I'm not done with you yet," he grunts, his words still laced with anger. His hands feel the outline of your body, curving round to grope the fullness of your tits. Until he's certain that he's left little fingertip-sized bruises, he uses that same powerful force to break the binding of your restraints with a yank of your arms. Strained and cramped, they immediately fall to your sides but that doesn't appease Peter too much - his hands need to be full, he needs you to feel the grip that you have on him as he remains deep inside you.
Now pulled behind your back with just the ease of one hand, it gives the other the chance to slither round your hips, sinking lower and lower until it feels the familiar shape of your cunt as it beckons to be touched. With not much use to you, your arms are now in Peter's possession as it gives him just that extra leverage to pull you into him just as assertively as he drills into you. In fact, the whole routine repeats again and Peter doesn't so much as miss a single beat, pounding into you just like before and he doesn't break a sweat doing it. You, on the other hand, attest to the burning desire riddling your mind that you're struggling to hold on.
"Come on, I wanna feel you. I know you want to cum all over me. I can feel it. God, you're so fucking wet." You can't deny him. The fragile drops coating your inner thighs and his fingers screams words that your mouth can't: you want to cum so bad. "Fuck," he groans again. "Squeeze me like that again and I swear to God it'll be the end of you."
"P-please, fill me up, Peter. Please!"
In a craze, Peter reaches for the nape of your neck, pulling you against him so quickly your head swims. He roams the entirety of your neck, licking and sucking patches of your skin before he finds your lips and greedily takes them into his possession. You moan into him, relishing your bittersweet aftertaste on his tongue as it violently invades the kiss.
How he still manages to rut into you with such animosity you don't know.
"You want me to fill you up?" Your only response is a drunk hum, sinking once again into his kiss that breaks just seconds later and curiosity brings your eyes to his. On the surface, they're dark, cavernous, but if you dig deeper, you start to unveil the ochre that the Peter you know most wears so well. It's only then do you realise he's being sincere and that he's searching for reassurance.
"Yes."
The corner of his lips flicker into a devilish smirk and you only catch a glimpse of it before Peter sends you hurtling forwards again. This time, you have the privilege of your arms to brace yourself against the fall.
With one hand still maintaining that constant attention to your clit, the other clutches the flesh of your ass. In that instance where you subtly push into him, something overtakes Peter and, no matter how impossible it seems, he becomes completely unstoppable. Panting, he pushes all of his weight into you and it stops any breath from leaving your lungs, your brain switching into panic mode with each unapologetic thrust.
"Thaaaat's it. Take it like a good girl--" your walls clench, a telltale sign for Peter. "You like that? Being my good girl?" He leans over and catches your gaze from over your shoulder. "You're going to keep being my good girl from now on. No more of this fucking bratty attitude, got it? I'm gonna make sure she doesn't ever fuck with me again."
With one, final, demanding thrust, Peter releases inside you and your whole body quivers as he inevitably stills. You feel like you've suddenly imploded, unfamiliar to the indescribable warmth that consumes you as it marries together with the pleasure you feel at your very core. For the first few milliseconds, your body surrenders to a certain numbness before it crystallises into something overpowering; the lightning before the thunder.
It completely distracts you from Peter only until the tight drag of his cock leaving you brings you back. Swiftly, he sinks lower, eyeing the delicious sight of his cum leaking for your cunt with a wicked grin gracing his lips. With just the simplicity of two fingers, he doesn't allow for any to go to waste and forces whatever escapes back into your clenching hole.
Content, curious eyes raise just inches higher, his fingers following soon after to circle the tightly pursed hole that he had mistakenly neglected this whole time.
"Peter, I can't--"
A dark chuckle leaves his lips, and how thankful you are that he listens to your pleas and decides to sidle closely behind you with a kiss to your cheek. Warmth against warmth, his arms hook tightly around your waist where his hand tenderly strokes over your stomach.
A blissful aftermath to a whirlwind of events.
It's you who eventually breaks the silence, that is, when you eventually get your breath back...
"You're...you're not still angry with me, are you? I didn't really mean any of those things I said to you--"
"No," he confirms, voice adamant. "But I was slightly annoyed with you."
"I know, I'm sorry. I could never think you're weak--"
"It's not about that," he interjects. You can feel him shuffle behind you, perching himself up onto his elbow. The hand hooked around your waist tugs a little, wanting for you to turn around so it can settle itself carefully against your burning cheek. There's a look of disappointment evident in his eyes, obvious enough even in the midst of admiration as he flicks between the different features on your face.
"I don't want you to think that you can't openly tell me what's bothering you. I know I've been distracted and distant, but if it really bothers you that much, tell me."
You take a deep sigh, pondering over your next words because when you truly think about what all of this was about, you start to feel...guilty. Selfish. Peter's just doing what he does to protect the city, like what he's always done and here you are acting the petty girlfriend because she isn't getting any attention. If anything, it's attention you don't particularly deserve given that you ignored him in a time of need, insulted his character and provoked him in a way you knew would drive him over the edge.
"I...I shouldn't really. It doesn't feel right telling you what trivial shit is bothering me when you've got a whole city to save. It doesn't seem fair, y'know?"
Peter's face tells of his dismay at your words. He wants to wait until you look at him directly before he contends your reasoning, but with regret diverting them elsewhere, Peter resorts to force. Smoothly, he positions himself inches above you, his arms locking you in place at either side of your head and demands for your attention.
"When I made you my girlfriend, I also made that promise to be your boyfriend. Spider-Man is just half of who I am, but your boyfriend is everything I am, so no matter how unfair you think it is for you to feel the slightest bit of unhappiness, know that it's my job to fix that, not Spider-Man's." He leans down to softly brush the tip of his nose against yours. "Okay?"
"Okay," you whisper.
"So promise me you'll tell me when something's bothering you, no matter what it is."
Peter's stomach drops at the smirk on your lips. "I don't know, I quite liked seeing you lose your temper--"
"Don't you dare, you little brat. Now promise me."
A large inhale fills your lungs and releases moments later, resolution clear in your words. "I promise."
"Good." With a smile on his lips, they encase yours; soft, warm, gentle, an apology but also in forgiveness, all of which is reciprocated in the way you kiss him back harder.
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pahtoosh · 10 months
Text
yucky
masterlist
summer celebration masterlist
18+
wc: ~300 words
warnings: lee is a little 🤏 mean in this. he calls you a brat🫢 and says a bad word🫢
a/n: this piece is for me and about me. i will NOT take cough syrup !! they all taste so bad id rather stay sick🤘
pairing: lee bodecker x gn!little!reader
summary: Lee’s baby doesn’t wanna take their medicine
⋆。゚☁︎。⋆。 ゚☾ ゚。⋆ ⋆。゚☁︎。⋆。 ゚☾ ゚。⋆ ⋆。゚☁︎。⋆。 ゚☾ ゚。⋆
“C’mon, baby. I know you don’t like it but ya gotta take your medicine.”
“No!”
“Don’t you get an attitude with me. Now listen to daddy and take your medicine. It’s just a‘ drop and then I’ll let ya have one of those cherry suckers after.”
“Don’t wanna!”
“Do-“
“No, Daddy! No medicine! It’s yucky, yucky, yucky! It’s the yuckiest thing in the whole wide world!”
“Would ya quit bein’ a brat?”
You crossed your arms and stomped your foot, looking up at Lee defiantly. “Not a brat! Daddy a brat!”
Lee set down the spoon with a harsh clink. “I’m gonna give you two options.” He took a breath. “Ya can take this medicine with no more fuss an’ get a little treat after.”
You squirmed nervously.
“Or, I can make you take this medicine and no treats or toys for the rest of the week. I really don’t wanna hav’ta force this down your throat, button. So, what’s it gonna be?”
You looked down at the floor. “Can I have da lemon sucker instead?”
“Sure, sweetheart.”
You held your breath and allowed Lee to feed you the spoonful of medicine. You quickly swallowed the syrup and gulped down water before taking the lollipop your daddy held out to you.
Lee gave you a sympathetic pat on the head. “Ya didn’t make it easy, but you did it.” He kissed your forehead. “Now hurry up an’ get better so we don’t have to deal with this medicine crap.”
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onsunnyside · 1 year
Note
ok ok some thots some thots.. 
stepbro!curtis went to hs with prissy!reader and him and her preppy boyfriend ransom absolutely detested one another. curtis was a loner that smoked under the bleachers and wore jeans with oil stains on them. he was notorious for getting into fights and most people in town believed he was headed nowhere good. maybe even the reader turned her nose up at him. maybe he wants to get revenge on her and ransom for the way they treated him in high school. i can see him taking great joy in cornering her in the kitchen in the middle of the night or making her grasp her towel tighter when she opens the bathroom door and he’s standing there with a lopsided smirk. ransom or andy or whoever would go absolutely fucking nuts because this scumfuck is living across the hall from his girl. omg the reader getting into fights with her boyfriend in the driveway about her new living arrangement and curtis hearing every word. maybe he’d develop real feelings. who knows. just thots.
this is perfect !! your parents got married while you two were off at the same college. curtis still works at the mechanic's bc your parents have cut off his allowance until he cleans up his act ("he's just as bad as he was in high school... you keep saying he'll get better but he hasn't." poor baby 🥺). he actually likes working there with his co-workers, and he's saved up enough to buy a motorcycle himself !!
ugh but one day, you and your boyfriend pull up in his fucking Beemer. he remembers all the shit you and ransom (mainly ransom) used to pull. like when he was forced to work on that asshole's car while you two made out/sneaked off to the washroom to fuck. now you and curtis are living in the same house with your newlywed parents, trying to adjust to the new arrangements while balancing your college careers.
"Baby, you know what my parents are going to say—"
"You'd rather stay in that house with the creep than come stay with me?"
You sigh, "I can't, Ran. You know that." Curtis bets you're fluttering your lashes and pouting, that same look that has gotten you everything you've ever asked for. "They already think we're getting serious too soon."
Ransom crosses his arms, and his once-perfectly styled hair falls over his forehead, "So? He's trash, I know he's gonna fucking touch you, violate you. And you must want that if you haven't moved out yet!"
You deeply inhale, irritation bubbling in your stomach. "Maybe not all of us are trust fund babies who can live every day leeching off their family's legacy." You don't stay to hear anything else he has to say and storm inside the house, still all dolled up for your (now cancelled) date.
Ransom tries to follow you, only to get the front door slammed in his face. "Woah—baby, hey! Wait!" He knocks loudly, "baby, I'm sorry! Open up!" All his attempts are futile as Curtis hears you race up the stairs and shut your bedroom door.
He feels bad for you. He never knew much of your relationship with Ransom, but he knew you've been dating since high school. And when Ransom announced he wasn't going off to some elite college because he wanted to stay close to you, everyone knew it was more than just a teenage fling. But that certainly didn't mean he was right for you.
Ransom glances up at the opened window and is only met with swaying curtains. He's fuming, fists clenched so tightly that his nails pierce his skin. His gaze lands on a motorcycle in the driveway, "Fucking trailer trash."
dark bad boy!stepbro!curtis anyone 😳😳 mayhaps... it was all about revenge at first, but then curtis actually falls for you and wants better for you in whatever twisted way he deems as deserving
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honey-flustered · 1 year
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You’re Not The Boss Of Me (MDNI +18)
Dom!Eddie Munson x Bratty!Sub!Reader
Summary: After showing your true colors to Eddie, you use this to your advantage, being as bratty as you can to get a rise out Eddie. But understand that how ever mean you are to him only allows him to be just as mean…maybe even more.
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A/N: this was in my drafts for some long and now im just deciding to release it even though it’s not exactly what how I wanted it. I’m continuing to have issues revising my work over and over and never publishing so i figured i’d let this go. First part is in reader’s POV then of course goes in second POV. A sequel to Come Again
Word Count: 2.8k+
Warnings: smut, established relationship, hinted bully!eddie, mean!reader, mean!eddie, dom/sub dynamics, fake nice!reader, panty fetish, mutual masturbation, finger sucking, cum eating, handjob, some ass/body worship, reader and eddie are in love but f*d up, tattoo artist!eddie, reader has piercings (nipple play)
Power comes in all forms and positions. Even if you’re a submissive. You’d probably look at someone like me, seemingly so sweet and docile, and think “Awww, she doesn’t have not an evil bone in her body.” But that’s what we, “good girls”, want you to do: underestimate us. That’s what makes us so powerful because eventually we get what we want.
Here’s where I was able to exercise my power with my dear boyfriend, Eddie Munson. Two weeks ago, I was able to break through to his innocent act with me. Call it great minds thinking alike but we’ve both held up this facade of being good when around each other because of the shame to act on our most carnal desires. But quiet mouths don’t get fed and, frankly, I had enough. So I called him out on his shit.
“You’re vanilla as FUCK.” I said.
And that moment truly became the beginning of what’s become of our relationship today:
Two sick fucks who enjoy getting a rise out of each other.
—————
Oh, the power you get from being a pampered brat in public and treated like a whore in bed. It was the best of both worlds and Eddie sure knows how to treat a lady. With him, you could truly be the mean bitch you’d hoped to be. Of course, this was only behind closed doors as you still could see the benefits of being a good girl in everyone else’s eyes. Only Eddie got to see your true nature. You’re a bitch and you made it evident that you didn’t care and it actually got you off being one to Eddie. This was fine, though. He loved it, too. In return, he gets a succubus disguised as a sweet beauty in his arms to dominate as he pleases.
You’d like to think the power’s evenly distributed amongst the two of you. You’re both unfiltered, whorish, and wicked. It was the perfect symbiotic relationship of sexual energy.
At times, you feel like Eddie’s giving you a run for your money as his wickedness proves to outweigh your own. The annoying pervert. He really likes to tease past the point of suffering and what’s worse…he still hasn’t fucked you yet. You were so sure that he’d give in by now after the nights you’ve shared but it never goes beyond second base. Even when you’ve put on your ‘bitch girl pants’ and laid down some rules.
Oh, well. If you don’t get to drain his balls, the least you can do is drain his pockets.
“What do you think of this dress?” You say, twirling around in the mirror in front of you. Currently, you were both in the dressing room of a French boutique. You’ve been shopping all day, hopping from store to store. Eddie’s clearly impatient but he takes it like the good boyfriend he is.
“I think this is the one,” He says, low on energy. “You look hot.”
“I’d like some more poetic-ness to your words.”
“Okay,” He raises to his feet, gripping your hips from behind. “Then, you’re as fucking hot as a thousand suns.”
“I know right,” You beam then quickly wave him away from your personal space. “Buy it for me.”
He examines the price tag attached to the seam of the dress then looks up at you with a deadpan stare. He’s followed you store to store like a mindless zombie all day, receiving zero affection from you and now you’re looking to buy a dress for an even higher amount. If he hadn’t been so distracted by watching your sexy ass try on all these clothes that accentuate your curves, he’d have called it quits long ago. The only thing he held onto was that you’d eventually reward him with your touch in return.
“This would cost me my entire dealer’s earnings for the week!” He exclaims.
“Yeah, but you have that check coming in for the tattoo shop. You’ll only be poor— for what— a day. You want to keep me happy, don’t you? Then you’ve gotta fund your popular angel girlfriend’s expensive lifestyle. It shouldn’t be a big deal.”
“It’s a huge deal! I’ve bought you plenty of dresses throughout the week and you haven’t even worn some of them.”
“And you’re still complaining like you always do.” You say while rolling your eyes.
“You may not be a good girl anymore but I’m going to make it my mission to correct this little behavior of yours.”
“What? You’ll spank me again? You don’t get to touch me unless I get what I want. We have rules for this relationship. Unhappy girlfriend = blue balled boyfriend. But if you’d have just fucked me already maybe I wouldn’t be such a bitch. You scared you’ll cum in one stroke or something?”
“Actually, I’m scared you’ve got teeth down there and, with your personality, it doesn't seem that far fetched.”
“Say what you will but I’ll always be Hawkins’ sweetheart. Even being in a relationship with you couldn’t tarnish that image sadly. Ah, well,” You remove the dress, now in your underwear as you begin dressing in your own clothes again. “Being good has its perks nonetheless.”
“How long do you think that’ll last? What do you think your friends will think of you when I show them all the naughty little footage I have of you in my camcorder? I’m sure they’d love to hear how much Hawkins’ sweetheart loves choking on the freak’s giant cock.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t. Depends on my mood. But don’t be sad, you might find out how envious your friends are of you now that you’re with someone like me. I did rock a lot of worlds.”
“You’re disgusting.” You hiss with slightly hidden jealousy for the very fact that he’s slept with other girls. But why not you?
“Maybe I can get you the dress but I’ll want to do something in return.”
“Everything is so transactional with you.”
“Look who’s talking.” He scoffs.
“If you were to simply buy me shit without expecting anything in return, would it really be transactional?” You retort.
“Are you going to accept my terms or not?”
You stare at the hot pink tube dress in your hands. “Fine. What do you want?”
“Let me give you a wedgie.”
“Are you legit high right now? That’s so idiotic, it’s almost comatose inducing. Why?”
“Because it’d be really funny.”
“I’m wearing really expensive underwear right now that costs more than those shoes you’re wearing. Like hell would I let you tear at them.”
“Then, you can forget the deal.”
“Exploitation is what you’re doing. People wouldn’t take kindly to those who participate in such things.”
“Good thing I’ve never been known to care what people think of me.”
He’s right. He’s never given a fuck. That’s what makes him so terrifying… and so very hot.
“Alright,” You pout. “But when I say ‘stop’, your hands should be off me.”
Turning your back to Eddie, you wait for Eddie to begin. He studies the bedazzled words written on the back of your pants of your matching pink tracksuit: “Princess”. He rolls his eyes at this. Could you be any more predictable?
Your thong peeks out at the top of the low rise pants as a style that you’d adopted just enough to show the public the color of your underwear. Also pink.
“A pink goddamn fanatic.” Eddie thinks to himself.
Your jacket is a crop top, exposing the new belly ring piercing Eddie had done for you when you asked via your rebellious stage. Then there’s your silky smooth back that you plan for him to tattoo a tramp stamp onto the lower section. It’s so much skin. Too much skin exposed but he doesn’t mind how you dress. After all, he can fight and honestly he loves seeing you show yourself off while men envy him for obtaining you.
Eddie tugs on the sides of your pants, accessing just enough of your underwear for the top globes of your ass to peek out as well. He bites his lips to keep in a groan, not wanting to give you the satisfaction. His cock is semi-hard and he makes sure to keep his hips at a safe distance so she doesn’t realize his game.
“Bend a little.” He says, voice hoarse from arousal.
You obey, having a slight arch in your back. Massaging the peeked out globes of your ass, he can’t help but to close the gap between your bodies. Your ass was just so soft and round in his hands.
“Hey! You can’t touch me like that unless you get me what I want!” You attempt to wriggle from his grasp but a large hand fists whatever little piece of fabric your underwear has, stilling you.
With a free hand, he smacks your ass causing you to let out a soft whimper. He grinds his cock into the side of your thigh, humping into you like a dog in heat.
Eddie lets out quiet moans in your ear, tugging on your underwear hard after each moan he lets out like following a rhythm. “Unh, ugh, fuck. You’re so damn pretty.”
You grow wet with each tug. The panty strip in the front slips between your labia, rubbing harshly against the clitoris. How embarrassing that you might actually cum from this. He’ll laugh and tease you for sure once you do.
Maybe you should take some power back and make him whimper so you sway your ass a little which earns you another smack on another cheek.
“I didn’t say you could move.” He growls.
Then, you felt it. His bare cock rubbing between the plush globes of your ass, the back thong strip wrapped around the base for further friction.
“Eddie, no. Please…” You put a hand behind you, placing it on the ‘v’ of his abdomen to halt his actions.
“Move it.” He threatens.
“No.” You say defiantly only to shift into a whining hum, when he takes both of your wrists in his hands to pull behind you and brings them beneath the band of your panties. With your hands cupped in a perfect tubular shape, he uses them to jack himself off. You tighten your grip around him, taking control.
“You’re so good with your hands. Why would I need to fuck your greedy little pussy if these could get me off just as good?”
“Unh, fuck…you.”
“Is that always on your mind?” He chuckles.
You're clenching around nothing, knowing that friction on your clit will not be enough to satisfy the aching between your legs. This was purely for his own twisted pleasure but you enjoy it despite priding yourself to be a selfish person.
“I’m so close, princess. Gonna cum all over your pretty hands, your sexy back, and this tight little ass.” He groans.
“Oh god.” You whine, throbbing profusely at his words. You were so close, too.
He notices your hardening nipples poking through your thin jacket and pinches one between his fingers, while the other steadies your hips as he grinds himself into you. You whine almost as if you’re in pain even though he’s not pulling on them roughly. Lowering the zipper to your jacket and one cup of your bra, he pulls out your breast revealing a newly pierced nipple…that he hadn’t pierced. He pulls your hair, lifting your head enough so that you can see his angered expression through the mirror.
“What the fuck is this?” He slaps your breast and you cry out.
“None of your business. It’s not like you’ll do anything about—oh shit!” You scream out as he continues to pull and pinch around the stainless bar. They were so sensitive even after two weeks.
“You're doing things without my knowledge now.”
“You’re not the boss of me.”
“You’re right,” He laughs darkly then pulls so harshly on your underwear you swear you felt the fabric go up inside your core. “I’m not your boss, I’m your master. So go on and beg for master’s cum.”
“I don’t want you to cum on me.” You mewl, knowing you desperately wanted him to.
“I know you want it, slut,” He growls in your ear. “You want daddy’s cum dripping all over you. To getchu all nice and sticky. Hm? That what you want, pretty girl?”
“Yes, please master,” You give in. “I want you to fucking cum all over me and my slutty ass.”
He cups a hand under your chin from behind, stroking faster into your jerking hands. “That fucking filthy mouth of yours will get you into big trouble someday.”
“Shut up and cum for me already. I wanna taste you.”
“Aw, shiiiit,” He’s getting close but he needs to make you cum. Partly because he loves getting you off and another part is because he knows you’ll give him grief if he doesn’t. “Want you to cum, too, princess.”
He pulls hard on your underwear, using an up and down motion to frantically rub against your sensitive nub and your orgasm takes you by surprise. Your mouth flies open and he slaps a hand over it to keep you from screaming and alerting the staff as he nurses you through your orgasm. The mirror image of you cumming along with your writhing against him triggers his orgasm, cumming hard and seeing stars.
He gropes your hips with both hands, the rings on his fingers bite into your skin as he gives his final thrusts. You feel spurts of his cum everywhere soaking through your underwear as well. You feel a tension between your legs then a release. He’d torn your underwear off your body.
“What the f—-“ You began but Eddie shoves a middle finger coated in his cum into your mouth. Your fury dissipates for a moment as you suck on it earnestly like you would his cock, your skillful tongue tracing over the engraved silver of his ring. The salty-sweet taste of him elicits a satisfied hum from you.
“That’s it. Just like that. Just like how your Master taught you.” He coos, petting your hair. When he senses you getting carried away, he pulls his finger out with a wet ‘pop’. The glistening finger held up to his face so he can study it, making sure you suck it off clean.
“Um, Eddie, your cum is starting to get cold. Can you please clean me off? Also, I’m pretty sure we were loud enough for us to get a few stares the moment we leave this dressing room.”
“I’m sure we turned a lot of people on, too.” He says before putting a finger to his lips so that you can quiet down and focus on the shuffling and thudding going on in the dresser beside yours. Your mouth drops in shock and he laughs.
Eddie lifts the torn underwear in his hands, bringing them to his nose to inhale. God, you’re intoxicating. It’s a wonder for Eddie to have gone this long without burying his cock deep within you. But he enjoys torturing you, hanging it over your head despite it being torturous on his end as well. Somehow your suffering far outweighed any pain he felt. He wants you sobbing for his cock even more than you did two weeks ago. He doesn’t care when or where it happens. You will beg for his cock.
Using the torn fabric, he cleans up his mess then helps you fix your hair and adjust your prim and proper appearance as if nothing had happened. Eddie tends to himself last, tucking his third leg back into his jeans. In the corner of his eye, he could see you watching him and the bulge. You play it off, helping him fix himself when you were really looking to get another glance at his anaconda.
“So…about the dress…”
“What dress?” He smirks.
“Don’t play dumb with me, Munson. I want my dress. You said that you'd buy them if I did this.” You narrow your eyes at him.
“I said ‘maybe’.” He retorts.
You seethe, feeling so angry that steam could shoot out of your ears. “You’re a dick.” You turn to leave when he grabs your wrist and pulls you against him.
“I was just teasing you, sweetness. I would’ve gotten you the dress even if you didn’t go through with it. But it’s so much more fun that you did.” He smacks your ass and you let out a small gasp.
“You’re the best,” You litter his face with multiple kisses, your lipstick staining his skin all over. You kiss the corner of his mouth and it makes him hungry to feel your lips on his but he doesn’t pry. “While you’re buying my hot dress, I’m going to the van to rest my aching feet. I had a loooong day.”
You pat his back, unaware of Eddie staring angrily at you once again at your oblivion to his situation.
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writers-ex · 1 year
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also hah follow up to that hotel thingy ask... imagine reader being hot headed and (rightfully or not idc) complaining abt smthto hotel management and perv! itzy member being the one to take reader's tantrum and umm... solving the problem by making sure reader couldn't make any noise except for moaning or gagging on perv! itzy's co- sKSKSKS HAHA
- 😚
-oOKIEs? riGHt? o-O);; jkjkjkjk we love itzy cock <3
yes like you've had enough after bothering the poor staff you get a call from your manager asking you to please stop harassing the staff, you take that moment to complain to her about the beds being too rough and the breakfast is always cold when you go down to get smt to eat so one of the girls take your phone away and tell the manager that everything will be fine while the other two decide to shut you up and keep that mouth busy with their cock and also your pretty little hole as they bargain with the manager to pay for an extra night to warm up to the staff when really they just want to take turns making you cock warm for them the whole night while you gag on the other's cock until that's all you taste for the next week teehee
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oh-my-damn · 1 year
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"Do you imagine writing step dad! andy x bratty step daughter! reader!😈" not the anon but imagine prissy pristine harvard student (bonus points for law) who is daddy's little angel and never liked stepdad!andy but he's so hot and she's a cocktease. stepdad!andy telling her real daddy "your daughter calls me daddy too".
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Absolutely obsessed with this
Me finks he married her mom right around the time she turned 18 (so its not that fucked up lol) and she spent a year at home before having to leave for college to help out her father by working at his law firm
and her dad and andy are bitter rivals, her parents have been divorced for years but andy knows readers mom bc of their same circle
and he takes a liking to her immediately because shes a hard worker and very bright but she has a distate for andy bc she knows her father doesnt like him
and so when andy finds out she's applied to harvard law he offers his help but shes snotty and dismissive and it pisses him off because he's the fucking DA so if anyone can help her out it's surely him
And me finks readers mom goes on a weekend trip and reader is left with Andy all weekend but decides to ignore him for the most part
but then she walks past his office late in the evening with the door open just a smidge and hears the sound of low groans and moans. she peeks into the office and finds her stepfather jerking his fat, meaty dick right at his giant desk, his tie pulled loosely around his neck, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, chest hair peeking out because he's unbuttoned his shirt
but she can't take her eyes off his dick, it's just so thick and enticing, veins popping out, precum leaking from the tip and down his hand
his head is thrown back, eyes closed as he huffs and pants, moans sounding like a symphony to her ears, the sight of him absolutely fucking mesmerizing and how did she never realize how beautiful he is before now?
And then a shiver runs down her spine as she freezes in place when Andy's plump lips part and he moans out the sound of her name
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the paint doesn't move the way the light reflects ; suguru geto
synopsis; when the king puts you under the supervision of a dashing knight, you promise to make his job as difficult as possible. unfortunately, suguru geto is the patient sort.
word count; 21.1k (this accidentally turned into a novella idk how it happened either nobody look at me 💔)
contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader, knight!sugu x royalty!reader, royalty au (not accurate to any time period ever), technically a bodyguard au, slowburn, reader is a brat and suguru likes it a little more than he should, reader also has thinly veiled daddy issues, protective sugu :3, he goes feral in one part (descriptions of violence and bloodshed), reader gets briefly kidnapped lol, very fluffy overall though!!, includes shifting povs & time-skips, also lots and lots of devotion, knight!sugu is real & beautiful & loves you specifically <33
a/n; HAPPY late BDAY SUGU MY BABY THE LOVE OF MY LIFE this fic has been in the works for a WHILE now and means a lot to me much like sugu himself :’3 dedicated to my beloved @kissxcore for infecting me w this concept & also my dear @mossmurdock for bringing knight!sugu into my life, both of u have made the brainrot infinitely worse and i will never be free (and ofc @softgirlgonehaywire & @dollsuguru & @jtkys for being the sweetest always) I LOVE U ALL!!!!!!!!
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like most things, it begins and ends with a dream.
images form in the depths of your subconscious, wild and vivid, splattering on the canvas of your mind. a dream of cold metal, dark thickets, iron-scented skin — and a knight. 
(or… a wolf?)
before you is a small clearing. trees sprout from the rugged grounds, blooming proudly, clogging up the wool-coated sky. all around you lie empty, discarded suits of armor, dirty with rust and something that smells of death. wilted sunflowers stumble under their own weight, and dragonflies buzz in a frenzy, manic, driven to hysteria. in the distance you think you hear the shrieking of ravens.
and there’s a knight, just ahead, tall and imposing, covered in steel from head to toe. holding a blinding sword, facing the sky, doing nothing to stop the pitter patter of raindrops ricocheting off his burganet. you stand by the entrance of the woods, and watch him in silence. 
he looks a little lonely. 
and in comes the wolf. gracious, growling, big and bad, snarling and showing off the white of its fangs. dragging its claws against the ground, unruly fur ruffled by the harsh breeze; widening its maw, a silent fury on its tongue. from this angle, it looks a little like a grin.
the wolf begins to chase the knight. or maybe it’s the knight chasing the wolf — you can’t really tell. they run in circles around each other, like the sun and the moon, an orbit of violence, matching their steps. almost in harmony — almost, but not quite, because suddenly they’re closing in on you, great and ugly, beasts wearing different hides, and —
and that’s when you wake up.
”your highness!” 
a groan pushes past your lips, groggy with fatigue, and your eyelids flicker open like the drawing of a flimsy curtain. a series of mismatched little blinks, until your vision clears. 
above you waits a familiar face; impatient. one of the maids, your foggy brain tells you. and she isn’t pleased.
but all you do is drag your limbs up to cover your pillow-creased face, sluggishly, muttering beneath your breath. ”a wolf…”
silence. 
the maid tilts her head, with a furrow of her brows. 
”… excuse me?”
”there was a wolf,” you echo, a dreamy exhale muffled against the skin of your palm. stifling a yawn. ”and a guy… he was cool.” 
she sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. settling back into her usual rhythm. mildy berating. ”did you have another one of your dreams?” she asks, a little irritated, and for a second you think you hear a tick-tock ticking down. ”at any rate — you need to get up. the king and queen demand your presence.”
ah. of course.
a huff, displeased, even as you force yourself into a sitting position. stretching your limbs like a grumpy feline. ”demands…” you murmur, a click of your tongue. ”they think they can just wake me up whenever they want? at the crack of dawn?”
”it’s 11 a.m, your highness.”
”early as hell,” you rasp, willfully tuning out her murmur of mind your language. letting your legs hang off the bed. ”what do they want, anyway?”
following your silent cue, she hums, walking towards the edge of the room. picking up your discarded blouse, and bringing it to you. ”i was told it was of utmost importance,” is all she says, lifting the fabric as if getting ready to dress you.
”i can do that myself,” you hiss, snatching the white silk from her outstretched hands. as always, she does nothing but sigh, sigh, sigh. it’s all they ever do. ”i’m not a toddler.”
from your position, still cozied up in bed, on messy sheets and fluffy pillows — you can see the view beyond your translucent window’s glass. a sky so gray it’s almost comforting, dark clouds forming in the distance, silently ruminating. when the maid pushes it open, and a cold breeze slips through the gap, you can smell the rain; heavy, earthy, daffodils and oak wood. in the distance, sunflower fields seek shelter from the downpour. 
but your eyes remain glued to the woods. far ahead, but still close enough to see — the woods you long for. the ones you’ll never get to see up close. 
a bitter taste blooms on your tongue. 
(spitefully, your teeth sink into the tender flesh of your bottom lip.)
”fine,” comes a heavy sigh, ruefully resigned. forcing yourself into compliancy. before you can change your mind, you hop off the mattress, running your fingers through tousled strands of hair. ”i’ll go see them.”
and she brightens, visibly, disapproving frown smoothed away with the breeze. for now. ”thank you. they are worried, i’ll have you know.”
a scoff, as you cross the threshold of your private quarters. humorous. ”i bet they are.” 
”your highness,” she calls, following close behind. her tone is reprimanding, now; you will yourself not to shrink. ”we almost lost you.”
”i almost got kidnapped,” you huff. ”not the same thing.”
again, that exasperated sigh. it’s a wonder her lungs haven’t run out of air. ”do you have any idea who that man was?” 
the question makes your mind still. shifting gears, a clockwork coming to life, repeating it inside your head — do you have any idea who that man was? 
”… he was hot.”
sigh. you hear it before it comes, and raise your lips on instinct. 
”no, i mean it!” you ensure her, throwing a fleeting glance behind you. ”he just had that rugged look about him, you know? the scar and everything…” a blissful little exhale, as you gush over your would-be killer. ”what a waste. if only he had gotten away.”
”with you in tow?” the maid quips, raising a brow. her words are steeped in irony.
”of course!” another disapproving glance. ”i mean, did you see those biceps —”
”behave.”
with a flutter of your puffy sleeves, you turn around to face her. and ah — there it is. the hardness of her jaw, those frosty pupils, the impending signs of her dwindling patience. you can see it, hear it, that eerie tick-tock signaling the breaching of her limit. all humans have one; a clockwork heart, of sorts, ticking down to the moment they run out of leftover kindness to give unruly heirs. 
over the years, you’ve gotten expertly good at making the clock tick quicken. a skill you’re very proud of.
”and what if i don’t?” you bite back, just barely restraining your growing grin. delighted at the attention. ”he had nice biceps! what, am i not allowed to tell the truth?”
and the tick-tock quickens. she stills, just behind you, hands on her hips. frustration bubbling beneath her sharp syllables. ”my god, you are impossible today!”
for a moment, you stop to look at her. weighing your options. should you reel it back in, try and appease her? or keep pushing? the answer, as always, is push. it’s all you’ll ever do.
so you turn on your heel, and take a step forward, a spiteful grin curved into your lips. ”deal with it, or leave.” a beat. ”i don’t remember asking you to accompany me.”
before you round the corner, your ears pick up on one final harsh sigh. she makes no move to follow you.
(hmph.)
”where is your maid?”
in front of you stands a throne, proud and luxurious, polished marble, two seats right next to each other. the quarters of the royal pair are the same as always, vivid paintings hanging from every wall in sight, wolf pelts thrown over tables and windowsills. the scent of dried lavender seeps through the air, suffocating you. 
and, of course, the king. speaking to you with the same judgemental voice as always; one you’ve grown painfully accustomed to. 
”i wanted her to get me breakfast,” is the lie you decide on, finely tailored in white. just to make sure she doesn’t get into any actual trouble. ”you didn’t exactly give me time to eat any.”
the king sighs, mild disappointment laced into the breath. nothing new. when he says your name, it comes out sounding like a bad joke. ” — you aren’t a child anymore. one day you’ll be ruling this kingdom; forcing the maids to do your bidding won’t win you any favours.” 
”mhm.” absently, you fidget with the sleeves of your blouse. not quite listening. ”so, what did you want? it’s not often i’m allowed here.”
an evil glint shines in your eyes, for a moment. you cast a meaningful glance at the maid by your father’s side — his personal favorite. 
”don’t you have, ah…” you taste the words on your tongue. ”more pressing matters to attend to?”
he doesn’t flinch. as always, he pretends not to know that you know — that everyone knows. 
yet he still gives you that cold, cold look, colder than the howls of wind beyond the castle walls, cold enough to send a shiver down your spine. it makes you want to push, push, push. break the clockwork in half.
but he’s wise enough to follow your lead. “let me get to the point, then,” he cranes his neck, showing off the fox pelt snug around his shoulders. ”the queen and i thought it best to hire a new knight for you.”
you blink. eyelashes fluttering. all you can hear is the pitter patter of rain against the windowpane. 
then you groan.
”another one?” you whine, barely resisting the urge to stomp your feet on the floor. ”please, no. it’s such a pain getting rid of them. you know they won’t last long!”
”we aren’t talking about any ordinary knight,” he tuts, as monotone as ever. ignoring your little temper tantrum. ”after what happened with toji zenin, we aren’t taking any chances.”
you tilt your head. confused, for a moment. ”toji?” the gears of your mind turn, clicking into place; zenin. a family of assassins, a man with a scar on his bottom lip. ”ohhh — the hottie.”
your father pretends not to hear you. 
”it was a close call,” he hums, and you muster the strength not to crack another joke about his biceps. it takes restraint. ”we need someone who can protect you properly. indefinitely, from even the stealthiest of assassins. so…”
your eyes meet his. gazes overlapping, the same colour, one above and one below. he’s always, always towered over you. for as long as you remember. 
that is what royalty means — absolute dominion. 
(it makes you want to curl into a ball.)
”today, you’ll be meeting with the greatest knight.” he says the words with an odd sense of pride, an inner satisfaction. ”he’ll be here any moment. i thought it best for you to get acquainted as soon as possible.”
a moment passes. you’re broken out of your bout of compliance, like a rubber band snapping. a clock tick quickening. ”wait, what?” you gape. ”father —”
”your majesty.” 
the correction is stern. gritting your teeth, you force the words from out your throat. ”… your majesty,” there’s a slight grumble to your voice, ”what the hell? now? i haven’t even —”
”you have no choice in this matter,” he cuts you off. coldly, coldly, coldly. ”behave, and there won’t be any complications.”
behave.
behave, behave, behave. it’s all they ever want from you.
(you might as well be a pet.)
the queen is silent, as always. eerily so, not saying a word, like a puppet on a string. she hasn’t looked you in the eye even once so far, not even a passing glance. not like you’d expect her to. her clockwork heart stopped beating for you a long time ago. 
automatons, the both of them. making decisions for you, like there isn’t a sliver of rational thought in your brain. how irritating.
you’re just about to part your lips, when —
”… am i interrupting?”
you still.
a velvety voice. silky, smooth, tailored by the finest seamstress — tucked between the slightest raspy vowel, a hint of something deeper. it sounds like honey, wine, a molten mass of spring clouds. 
the king ahead of you brightens, suddenly, lips curling up into a smile. it looks almost warm; you didn’t know he was capable of making that kind of expression. ”ah, suguru!” he calls out to the source of the noise. ”no, certainly not. forgive me for the short notice.”
when you turn around, you see a knight.
he’s beautiful. gorgeous, even. fair skin, sharp facial features, no scars to be seen. a sword hangs in a scabbard by his hip, and he’s wearing a set of armor, still glistening with the aftermaths of the rain beating down outside. his hair cascades down the metal like a black river, loose and silky, a single strand obscuring his pretty face. and his eyes are a soothing shade of brown; you’re almost certain they’d look warm, if there was any sunlight to engulf them. as it is, in the shadow of a murky spring morning, they’re a dark cedar, almost obsidian. but they look kind. 
and they’re fixed on the king. he’s smiling, too, a dangerous little tilt. disgustingly charming. he hangs his head in a bow, hand on his heart — reverent.
(ah. he’s one of those knights.)
”my king,” the strange knight greets, tongue wrapping around the vowels like a dragon curling around a pile of gold. ”not at all. i’m always grateful for an opportunity to see you.”
(oh god. it’s even worse than you thought.)
”i should say the same of you,” the king echoes, with a warmth that you’re wholly unaccustomed to. your stomach churns, swirling with discomfort. ”our nation’s pride and joy.”
the knight chuckles; muffled by his closed fist. he’s feigning embarrassment, you can tell. ”you flatter me,” he purrs, words flowing smoothly from his lips. too smoothly. ”i’m simply doing my duty as one of your subjects. but, needless to say — i’m honoured to have earned your respect.”
finally, his gaze shifts to you. and you think he must notice how disgusted you are, the reproach you feel for him, that silent contempt. because you aren’t trying to hide it; it’s there, clear as day, in the crease of your brow, your frosty pupils. lips pursed, like they’re aching to bare and to bite.
but he continues to smile. warm, still, like a mellow summer breeze. a well of pizzicato drops.
you feel a little nauseous.
”ah, and you must be the royal heir?” a tilt of his head, knowing. a shimmer of recognition painted in those ashen eyes. ”or should i say…. my liege.” 
he walks towards you, in long strides, slow and steady, only to get down on one knee. ew. ”forgive me; my name is suguru geto. your knight, from this day forth.” his palm unfurls, cedar eyes crinkling with feigned endearment. holding it out towards the subject of his newfound devotion. ”i’m delighted to finally meet you.”
(suguru geto. you’ve heard of him, of course. who hasn’t?)
his hand stills in the air, waiting patiently for yours; to bring it to his glossy lips. but you don’t do anything. nothing, other than studying his smile, picture perfect, tailor-made, sweet enough to melt on your tongue. so sweet you know it must be at least a little bit fake — the smile of a liar. 
it’s a smile you know well.
so you mimic it, a bitter glint in your eyes, only for your hands to retreat to your pockets. and out comes a purr. ”you’re a bad actor.”
silence. the knight doesn’t flinch, not even close, but he blinks, a flutter of his dark eyelashes. like a raven taking flight. that everlasting smile never falters, but for just a second, a clock-tick or two, you swear you catch the slightest hint of something flickering through his keen iris.
interest?
”forgive them, suguru,” the king is quick to chip in, finally stepping down from his throne to join you on the floor. the queen doesn’t move, but she gives suguru a fond smile, and it makes your grimace deepen. ”they woke up on the wrong side of bed this morning. and they’re a bit of a problem child — i’m sure you’ve heard.”
that makes you snicker, silently. maybe just a little bit smug. you’re sure it must be a headache for him to deal with.
”i can’t say i haven’t,” suguru chuckles, raising himself up from the marble floor. your smile falls. ”but it’s not an issue. i understand.”
he looks at you, really looks at you, and you give him an unimpressed stare. wholly disinterested. trying not to squirm under his scrutiny. 
”i’m sure it must feel suffocating — being under this kind of supervision.” he gives you a tilt of his head, strands of charcoal following the movement. smooth, like a waltz, one you didn’t agree to. ”isn’t it?”
ah. the sympathy card.
before you can answer, he bows; hand on his heart. knights and their rituals. ”i’m at your service, my liege. if i make you uncomfortable, at any point, just tell me.” once more, he meets your gaze, a sincerity in his own — reserved just for you. ”really.”
… ugh.
to your right comes a pleased voice, deep and satisfied, as self-affirming as ever. ”i knew i could entrust them to you,” the king speaks, placing a palm on your shoulder. you try not to flinch. ”aren’t you grateful? this handsome, kind man is all yours.”
a sharp scoff is all you can muster, nails digging into the skin of your palm. but suguru only chuckles, good-natured.
they continue to speak, about this and that. you tune out most of it, caught up in preparing for the long headache ahead. sure, you’re an expert at getting knights to quit, but it takes time. weeks, sometimes, just to make them finally crack, push and push until their patience reaches its limit. and suguru seems resilient. more than anything, he seems thoroughly loyal to the king; that really doesn’t bode well for you.
but before you can formulate a step-by-step guide to making his job a living hell, the sound of your name snaps you out of your trance.
it’s the king, of course, as always. you hate that you still instinctively respond to his call. like an obedient puppy. ”show suguru to your quarters. he’ll be accompanying you indefinitely, from now on. don't give him any trouble.” his voice finally sounds cold again; a warning. ”i’ll hear about it.”
(indefinitely.)
a moment passes. then you sigh, deep and heavy, haphazardly hiding a roll of your eyes. ”yeah, yeah, yeah,” you cross your arms. ”i got it.”
suguru meets your furrowed brows with something gentle, a soothing little smile. offering his arm, for you to hold on to. knights and their rituals. ”shall we?”
but you brush past him. stubborn in your independence, in your desire to make this as discomforting for him as it is for you. ”follow me,” is all you say, a dissatisfied huff. loud enough to pick up on.
to your great displeasure, he matches your hurried pace. side by side, as you walk down the halls, the clicking of his shoes echoing against the marble. a shadow you can’t shine away; one that’ll stay with you indefinitely. you feel his gaze burn into you.
”my lord.”
”don’t talk to me,” you sigh, sharp like the sword by his hip. a low click of your tongue. ”just so you know, i didn’t agree to this.”
”that was my question, actually,” he grins, ever so slightly. fingertips tapping against his scabbard. ”i am sorry, you know. i meant what i said — i’m sure it’s difficult for you.” he casts you another one of those meaningful glances, a meaning you have no intention of discerning. ”but i have my orders.”
you bite back a laugh. ”you guys love those, huh?” when you turn your head to face him, still walking forward, he’s met with a taunting smirk. ”your little orders.”
but his smile doesn’t falter. damn.
”not a fan of knights?” he asks, instead, a playful lilt to his syrupy voice. coaxing, accommodating. infuriating.
”nope.” your footsteps quicken — but he keeps up, effortlessly. curse those abnormally long legs. ”you’re all just bootlickers. especially you.”
”oh?”
”don’t oh? me,” you snap, practically growling, ”like you weren’t seconds away from making out with the king back there. it’s all so fake.” the comment makes the corners of his lip quirk up, but you don’t turn around to see it. ”now that you’re alone with me, you’re already acting way less uptight, see?”
he hums. ”i figured it’d make you feel more at ease.”
”god, will you just cut it out?” a hiss breaks out of your throat, sharp and exasperated. tired, drained. you just want to go back to sleep. ”quit acting like you care about what i think. you’ll do whatever the king asks of you — that’s all you really care about.”
suguru stays silent, this time. matching your steps, observing you silently, out of the corner of his eye. the frown on your lips, the crease between your brows. etching them into his memory. you’re pissed, that much he can tell. and you definitely, definitely don’t like him. 
(”you’re a bad actor.”)
the knight comes to a standstill. parting his lips, enough for his voice to flow through, silken sheets and molten honey. a raspy tilt he tries his best to hide.
but his words carry a sincerity he could never fake. 
”from now on, i serve you.”
when the clicking of his shoes against cold marble flooring fades away, you halt. turning around, hesitantly, quirking a questioning brow. rain beats on beyond the window to your left, flicking against the glass, droplets clinging to the translucent surface. marigold petals kiss the windows in a flurry of cream and orange, fluttering about with the harsh bites of the wind, carried from the castle’s orchard. the endless hallway you find yourselves in smells of rainwater and spring.
suguru looks steadfast, where he’s standing, immovable. a little like a pillar of salt. when he speaks it sounds like he’s reciting a scripture.
”i’m loyal to the king. i have to follow his orders.” 
there’s something about his words that you can’t quite pinpoint. is it guilt or pride? ”but i am at your service. certain things are set in stone, but not others. i’ll let you decide how this goes.”
the hallway goes silent. he smiles, again, smaller this time. somehow more genuine.
”from now on, i’m your knight.” the pitter patter of rain mashes with the steady beating of a clock; rhythmic, soothing, a lullaby of rust and time. ”that’s all. i won’t be anything else.”
you stare. lips pursed, awaiting a clarification, but it doesn’t come. he’s giving you time to respond.
(he’s your knight, now. indefinitely yours.)
an inhale. the clock hands of your heart begin to move. ”in that case,” you exhale, lips curling up into a taunting smile. pleased with yourself. ”i promise to be the most insufferable lord a knight has ever had. i won’t make your job easy for you.”
and suguru only chuckles. raspy, like the bark of a tree, claw marks on the ground. ”good,” he grins, eyes rich with mirth, golden pears hanging off the branches. ”i wouldn’t have it any other way.”
he looks sincere. sounds sincere. all you do is blink, a sense of frustration nibbling at your heart, but the knight before you doesn’t falter. he only offers his arm to you, once more; a silent step towards reconciliation.
you watch him, silently. 
then you’re turning on your heel, swiftly, a low grumble at the base of your throat. ignoring him and his offer, walking towards your room with irritated steps that fade as you turn the corner.
behind you, suguru’s smile only grows.
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”good morning, your highness.”
blinking sleepily, still regaining your ability to form coherent thoughts, all you can do is stare. studying the figure above you, towering over your half-asleep form, the deadpan expression on your face.
black hair, and amber eyes. a disgustingly charming smile. 
the gears of your mind finally click into place.
a whine flows from your lips, meek and disapproving, and you roll over to your side. pulling the covers over your head, as if to protect you from the existence of your newly hired knight. so it wasn’t just a bad dream.
but he doesn’t fade away, like an apparition. he stays right by your bed, crouching down next to it. you feel the weight of the mattress shift when he rests his elbow on the cushion. ”still too early?” he asks, soft enough not to grate your sensitive ears. ”i was told you usually get up around this time…”
a muffled groan. ”leave.”
”i’m afraid i can’t,” he hums, but you don’t sense much remorse. ”i’m not supposed to let you out of my sight for more than brief intervals at a time… that’s one thing i can’t compromise on.”
”i don’t care,” you whine, petulant. tightening your grip on the blanket surrounding you, desperate to savour the leftovers of your fuzzy dreams. ”’m not getting up…”
a click of his tongue. quiet, contemplative. until he decides on a course of action.
”would you like me to bring you breakfast, then?”
slowly, your eyes flicker open, consciousness beginning to stir. the tasty temptation rouses you from your half-slumber, ever so slightly; because he sounds sincere. he sounds like he really will bring you breakfast, if you just give him the order. 
it’s tempting. dangerously so. 
(how long has it been since one of the maids actually bothered to serve you breakfast?)
”… whatever,” you croak, finally. weighing the value of your own response — putting effort into not sounding too excited. (but you are.) ”sure. do what you want, just let me sleep.”
a relieved little breath slips from suguru’s lips, as he watches the lump under the blanket stir. ”alright,” he breathes. ”what would you like, my lord?”
(suddenly, you get an idea.)
a smug grin crawls up to rest on your lips, fresh mischief on your mind. ”figure it out yourself,” you chirp, awfully pleased with yourself. 
silence. 
then, you hear him hum — rising to his feet with a quiet groan. ”understood,” he quips. ”i’ll be back as soon as possible, your highness.”
when you hear the creaking of the door, as he steps over the threshold, you barely restrain the urge to kick your legs in victory. now he’s sure to get you the wrong breakfast; and then you can be as difficult as you please, demanding something else, over and over. an ungrateful, spoiled little brat. that’ll definitely make him quit. 
— sadly, it seems you were underestimating him. just a tiny, tiny bit.
before you, on a silver tray, lays a wide variety of breakfast foods. everything from syrupy pancakes and buttery croissants to neatly cut sandwiches and porridge, slices of fruit and fresh lemonade, coffee with cream and sugar, tiny jars of marmalade and jam. sparkling, glittering, begging to be devoured. handmade, you can tell, meticulously crafted by someone who knows what they’re doing. with a gulp, you attempt not to openly salivate — you had no clue the kitchen workers were this talented. 
for just a moment, you’re entirely speechless. he really went ahead and got you some of everything.
stumbling for the right words, any words, the only thing that escapes your throat is a meek huff. meant to sound displeased, but coming out just a little awestruck. ”this is… way, way too much. are you insane?”
he only shrugs. a sweet smile on his lips, sharp jaw resting on the heel of his palm. ”well, you wouldn’t give me any specifics,” he reminds you, a bit too smug for your liking. ”just eat what you like. i’ll keep your preferences in mind.”
you want to protest, want to put up a fight. want to resist his charms, his little peace offering.
but your stomach growls, suddenly. loud enough that you’re sure he hears it, but you don’t turn around to see any silent laughter — just picking up the fork, embarrassed, eager to just get rid of the ache in your gut. eager to get a taste of the delicacies in front of you. with hesitance, you cut into one of the fluffy pancakes, slathered with syrup, trying to ignore his expectant gaze. biting into it with your eyes closed.
when the sweet taste curls around your tongue, you physically feel yourself perk up. letting your eyes flutter open, your eyebrows raised, a sweetness that makes you sit up straighter. it practically melts in your mouth, honeyed and buttery, and it takes all your willpower to withhold a blissed out little sigh. 
it must be evident, on your features. because suguru sounds amused when he asks; ”good?”
”... better than usual, i guess.”
despite your half-assed attempt at hiding how pleased you are, his ever-present smile extends. ”oh, really?” he leans back in his chair, right next to the bed. exhaling in relief. ”i’m glad. i was worried my cooking wouldn’t be to your tastes.”
you pale.
silently, both awestruck and horrified, you look up to meet his teasing gaze. ”wait. you…” a pause. silent, palpable, dreading his answer. ”… made this?” 
”yes.”
another pause. 
”… like. all of it?”
”mhm.”
your gaze falls down to seek solace in your lap. avoiding his own, biting down on your lip, not quite enough to sting. fuck — you accidentally complimented his handmade breakfast. not off to a great start.
wallowing in your silent loss, you simply dig in; desperate to savour it, despite the lingering taste of failure on your tongue. once you’ve sipped the last of your coffee, foamy and rich, the knight to your right speaks up.
”so, your highness,” he begins. tactful, careful. clearing his throat. ”now that you’ve woken up a bit… and, forgive me if i’m overstepping, but —” he searches for your guarded gaze, playing with the beginnings of a smile. ”i was thinking it’d be good for us to get to know each other better.”
”ugh.”
a chuckle — seriously, does nothing offend this man? — flits past his lips. ”oh, don’t be like that, your highness. don’t you think it —”
”cut it out.” you shoot him a glare, voice set to a shivering tilt. ”stop acting like some perfect servant. it’s so obvious you’re playing it up.” a tiny huff, as you pop an apple slice into your mouth. ”makes me sick.”
”… right. you called my acting bad, before.”
”it is,” you nod, a mocking imitation on your tongue. eyes fluttering shut as you bring a hand to your chest. ”oooh, look at me, i’m so humble and loyal! why, of course i don’t mind being summoned with no prior notice! would you like me to lick your shoes, my sweet king?”
and, honestly, you expect him to get at least a little bit angry. the last guy certainly was.
but suguru laughs, suddenly, from the bottom of his gut — a genuine sound. sunshine spilling from his lips, amusement laced together with the octaves. his eyes are crinkled at the edges, like the leaves of a golden ginkgo tree. ”okay, okay,” he puts his hands up, as if readying for a smooth surrender. still amused. ”i’ll try to be more… unguarded, then. would that satisfy you?”
you give him a look. 
he returns it with a smile. ”i’ll take that as a yes,” is all he croons, reaching a hand out. it hangs still in the air, waiting patiently for a response. a familiar sight.
you blink. looking at it, silently, as if trying to solve a puzzle in the pattern of his fingertips. 
then you sigh. ”for the last time, i’m not letting you kiss my hand, you —”
”a handshake,” he cuts you off. soft, a tilt of his head; awfully charming. reassuring you. ”no kissing involved.”
a handshake.
(come to think of it, you don’t think anyone’s ever tried to shake your hand before. it’s something you see other people do; maids, knights, butlers. people on equal ground with each other.)
after a moment of silence, you avert your gaze. there’s a slight, slight flush to your cheeks, one you hope stays hidden from his keen eyes. you grumble, intent on not appeasing him. ”… i’m not shaking your hand, either.”
suguru quirks a brow, smile yet to fall, waiting a few moments more until he gives in. ”you are difficult,” he chuckles, and it sounds almost pleased. ”kento was right.”
kento? now, why does that sound familiar…? 
”— but that’s okay. i look forward to getting to know you better, either way.” his hand retreats to his lap, pliant. ”eventually.”
”that’s not happening.”
”oh?” you swear that smile of his grows, just a little. a man who enjoys a good challenge. humming, closing his eyes for a brief second, switching tactics as if shifting gears. ”then, tell me — is there anything you’d like to know about me?”
hell no, is what you want to say. and you almost, almost do. eager to move one step ahead of him, stubborn in your desire to scare him off.
but then you remember the tale.
so you still, ever so slightly, and suguru leans forward. by a hair, noticing your expression, maybe, the curiosity simmering in your veins. seeping out, little by little, and even though you know you shouldn’t — you just can’t resist the temptation to ask…
”… is it true?”
he tilts his head.
”the … you know.” you move your hands, a bit, as if hoping they’ll say the words for you. they don’t. ”your sword. did you really…” a pause, as your eager gaze trails down to his hip, the scabbard attached to his belt. and then a gulp. 
”… pull it out of a stone?”
a series of silent blinks. then suguru chuckles — dripping with fresh amusement, a glimmer of teeth behind his lips. ”oh, so you’ve heard?”
and, like a pair of shooting stars, your eyes flicker over to meet his. almost gleaming with newfound excitement, a little erratic. ”is — is it true?”
”it’s an old folktale,” he’s quick to intercept. ”gets said about basically every great knight… or, what the public deems as good, anyhow.”
(ah. the humble facade slipped away.)
in a matter of seconds, you seem to deflate, slumping back until your spine meets the headboard. sulking silently. ”so you didn't pull your sword out of a rock?” you huff, mood souring again, a lemony flavour in your veins. ”lame.”
”stone,” he corrects, unperturbed. ”and i'm afraid not.” he gives you another one of his placating smiles, barely concealed amusement swimming in his amber eyes. ”i pulled mine from an oak tree.”
”wait, really?”
the gleam in your eyes is back. suguru almost, almost feels bad.
”depends,” he quips, shooting you a lazy grin. ”how gullible are you, my lord?”
(... oh. he was teasing you.)
an embarrassed heat crawls up your neck, rooting itself into the column of your throat, and all you can do to distract him from it is to scoff. sharply, as if hoping just the sound will be enough to cut into his smooth skin. ”whatever.”
suguru continues to smile, crows’ feet by his eyes, something deliberate in his silent stare. so you stumble for something, anything to say.
”also, can you quit the my lord stuff?” you settle on, taking a shallow sip of the lemonade. sour and sweet, nice and chilled on your tongue. ”it’s creepy.”
he blinks. a flutter of his dark lashes, fingers tapping at his bended knee. he looks contemplative, for a moment. ”does it make you uncomfortable?” he asks, tilting his head. ”i can stick to my liege, if that’s better. just say the word.” 
”god, you’re so annoying,” you groan, licking the lemony residue off your lips. ”just use my name.”
suddenly, suguru stills. fingertips frozen, for a moment, no longer tapping at his thigh. he traps his bottom lip between his teeth, a hesitant hum crawling up the confines of his throat. 
”that….” he trails off, thumb absentmindedly smoothing over the leather of his scabbard. ”seems a little much.”
when you turn to look at him, he seems a little put off. uncomfortable, maybe — or just caught off guard? it’s hard to get a read on him. for someone who smiles so often, his emotions don’t appear very bright.
a pang of something grasps onto your clockwork heart, and a frown pulls at your bottom lip. frustration gnawing at your veins. ”you’re here to service me, aren’t you?” you ask, with a shallow huff. ”just do as i say.”
”well, i still have my boundaries.” suguru leans back, crossing his legs, gazing at you with slightly lidded eyes. ”and, on paper — i’m only here to protect you. the servicing is my own choice.” 
a very, very judgemental look. he returns it with a tug of his lips. 
”… you really do like being ordered around, don’t you?”
suguru shrugs. playful. ”makes me feel needed,” he purrs, watching you wolf down the breakfast he made.
once you’ve had your fill, he’s quick to gather the silver tray in his steady arms, and you do your very best to hold back from thanking him for the meal. it aches a little, but you can’t give in — you don’t have a choice. you can’t allow yourself to be anything other than the most ungrateful, annoying royal in the kingdom.
anything to snap his clockwork heart in half.
— a week passes with no particular developments. you try your damndest to bother him, but suguru is stubborn. stubborn enough that you’re starting to doubt he’ll ever leave you alone, no matter how much you ignore him, or hiss at him, or whine at him to make you an annoyingly specific assortment of breakfast foods.
he never stops smiling, no matter how bothersome you’re being. the tick-tock of his patience remains unbroken. 
(so for now, you figure you’ll just have to adjust.)
a sense of contentment simmers in the open air, when suguru knocks at your door, waiting for a groan and a grouchy come in. it takes you a few moments longer to respond than what he’s used to, and he notes that you sound a little less irritated when you do.
as he steps over the threshold, bowing his head instinctively, he’s met with the sight of you fully immersed. holding a paintbrush between your fingers, lifting it, movements delicate, self-assured. like it comes to you without thinking. you’re seated right by the window, enough for the would-be daylight to flicker in. as it stands, the weather is still sour. 
he walks up to you, as always, never more than a few steps away.
and, for a moment, all he does is watch you. silently, as you dip your brush in smeary cobalt paint, a splatter of colour on the white canvas. melting together with the indigo and obsidian. there’s a certain rhythm to it, a kind of dance between you and your mind and the painting in front of you — not even close to being finished. a dip of your brush blooms into a jaw, a flick of your wrist into a set of fangs. cobalt cream and silvery edges, an imitation of what you saw in your sleep. murky, blurry, a dream-like clearing in the woods. 
as you work, a sense of relaxation smooths along your sinuses. coaxing you into breathing out, into letting your clenched jaw rest for a while. turning all your irritation into brushstrokes. into a hungry, hungry wolf. 
finally, your knight opts to break the silence.
”you’re quite talented.” 
it’s an earnest comment. filled with respect, not the idle flattery you’re so used to. and despite yourself, you can’t help but grin — glowing a little beneath the praise. prideful, smug, almost giddy. he watches intently as your expression shifts, as those fleeting flickers of joy dance along the contours of your cheekbones. as you lap up his praise like the chamomile tea he served you this morning.
suguru smiles. you have a cute side, he thinks. for no more than a mere moment, he finally feels as if he’s getting somewhere; getting closer to breaking that thorny, thorny shell of yours. closer to meeting the little lamb beneath the wolf’s hide.
but your mind quickly catches up to your body, realizing that your lips are curled up into a pleased smile, and you clench your jaw again. mindful not to let him see it. painting makes you far too careless, too unguarded; you have to be mean.
stuck in a bout of frustration, you put a little too much force into the motion of your fingers, a small slip of the hand. but that’s all it takes. suddenly, the smooth, calm sea of fur on the canvas turns violent, a little more unruly, and you withhold a wince. doing your best to mend the damage. flick, flick, across the canvas, as if to appease the hungry wolf. 
from behind you, a tiny exhale. laced with a kind of stifled amusement, one that makes you snap your jaw in his direction. brows knitted in anger.
”what?”
suguru clears his throat. ”nothing, my liege,” he hides a smile behind his knuckle. eyes gliding across the murky smear of fangs and fur, interest piqued. ”i’m just curious… why a wolf?”
a huff. briefly, you consider ignoring him, but….
(something in his tone convinces you not to.)
”… i saw one,” you admit, absently, staring at the blue and gray of the canvas. flick, flick. violet, navy, a little more depth. ”in my dream.”
silence. your knight doesn’t respond. surely, he must think you childish; everyone else does. why would he be the exception? why did you tell him anything at all? a sense of regret mixes with the paint.
the weight of a brush in your hand truly does make you careless, doesn’t it?
”… huh.”
a clenching of teeth. you muster the will to turn your head, just to give him a questioning look, a silent aggression. biting before he can. but he’s not looking at you; he’s looking at the painting, the wolf that isn’t quite a wolf yet, just blue and gray on paper. a blur of messy motions.
then he shakes his head. ”no, nothing.” 
you quirk a brow. 
but you don’t say anything. falling silent, falling back into the rhythm of it all, painting until you grow bored of it. the wolf looks at you both, still thoroughly unfinished, jaw half-painted, no trees or knights to keep it company. solitary, blurry; baring its fangs towards no one at all. a sorry spectacle of teeth.
— a couple days later, as you’re walking through the castle with suguru in tow, still adamantly refusing to curl your fingers around his bicep, a loud crash breaks you out of your hushed banter.
the two of you share a look. it came from farther away, just beyond the next turn, a certain hallway decorated with delicate vases. one the castle maids desperately tried to keep you from, when you were younger, worried about your habit of jumping around while pretending to be some sort of feral animal. worried, of course, about the safety of the porcelain rather than the safety of the child.
it doesn’t take a genius to figure out the source of the sound. and, lo and behold, what waits beyond the turn ahead is a crying boy and a broken vase.
fat tears cascade down his reddened cheeks, silent fear knit into the way his face is scrunched up. he can’t be older than six or seven; one of the maid’s children, you assume, the kind that doesn’t have the luxury of making mistakes. he looks panicked, down on his knees, holding a large piece of porcelain, painted flowers etched into the front.
what a mess.
when the clicking of your shoes reaches his little ears, he looks up at you with wide, shameful eyes. still sitting amongst the littered shards, the spilt water and irises soon to wilt. it reminds you of something, a memory you don’t quite want to recall; a different child, tiny and alone. taught to feel shame at the moment of their birth. 
it makes your pace falter, a bit, but suguru moves without hesitation. long, careful strides, one foot after the other. 
he crouches down in front of the boy, gentle as he takes the shattered piece of porcelain from his tiny palm. so he doesn’t hurt himself. ”hey, hey, it’s okay,” he soothes, speaking even softer than usual, his voice like a flurry of feathers and jasmine petals. ”are you hurt?”
he’s patient. smiling comfortingly, considerate, grounding, a blanket of wool like the one forming on the border of the horizon. but the child continues to sniffle and hiccup, curling into a ball as if readying for a strike. like an abandoned puppy.
you sigh.
after a moment’s hesitation, you’re stepping forward, figure slipping from the shadows and coming into view. joining the miserable pair, the jagged shards on the marble floor. 
there’s a cold, cold look in your eyes when the boy raises his head to meet them.
a flick of your wrist; you wave your hand once, then twice. ”shoo. hurry up.” 
he blinks. tears clumping his lashes together, cheeks flushed from the panic of it all. he stammers when he parts his lips. ”b… but —”
”didn’t you hear me?” comes a scoff, harsh, cutting through the air. right through the fear and panic. ”that was an order. just run back to your mommy already.” you cross your arms, shaking your head in disapproval. mimicking the king, though you think it’s lost on your spectators. ”all that crying is making my head hurt, geez.”
a series of hesitant blinks. crumbling beneath your commanding gaze, the child stumbles to his feet, sparing suguru one last unsure little glance before scurrying off. the sigh that slips from your lips is quiet, barely audible, tinged with relief. 
when you look down to the floor, you find that suguru is already looking at you; a furrow to his brows. angry, for once. just a tiny, tiny flicker of distaste. you reward him with a cold smile. 
(so this is how you get under this skin. cruelty, aimed not towards him, but towards the defenseless. 
what a picture-perfect, self-destructive little knight.)
just as the child turns the corner ahead, you hear the echo of a maid calling out from behind you. her voice is dripping with fatigue, exasperation, a flurry of sighs you’ve grown far too familiar with.
”your highness! what have you done now?”
there it is, you think; the curtain call you’ve been waiting for. with a swift turn of your heel, sheepish expression ready to go, your focus shifts onto one sole objective — act annoying.
”walked into a vase,” you chirp, proudly, just the slightest bit theatrical. gesturing dismissively towards the broken spectacle, as suguru raises himself from the floor. ”my bad. not my fault you make them so easy to break, though.”
she inches closer, with a disapproving stare, and you hear a tick-tock in your ear. sensing the limit of her patience. ”i’ll have you know these vases are expensive,” she clicks her tongue. ”do you truly think you can go around breaking whatever you please?”
”… i mean. i do kind of own this place, don’t i?” you tilt your head, faux contemplation on your features, shifting into a spoiled smile. ”or i will. so — technically — i broke my own vase. no harm done!”
”… my lord —”
”quiet.” suguru stiffens, ever so slightly, following your sharp whisper. ”don’t fuck this up.”
he looks at you, silently. not saying another word.
(there’s a shame in his eyes that you don’t turn your head to see.)
it doesn’t take long for the maid to shoo you away, pinching her brow at your carefree laughter, bitter at the prospect of cleaning up your mess. she makes sure to give suguru a sweet smile, though, and doesn’t bother to hide the sympathy in it. sympathy for him, such a handsome, well-behaved knight, forced to service such a brat.
the smile he gives her in return is a stiff one. almost, almost cold. but he bows, and follows your retreating form, until you’re all alone together.
the walk is silent. maybe just a little heavy, as you try to ignore the stare burning into your skin, trying to swallow your own displeasure. it’s subtle, something you learned to internalize long ago, but it’s there; a slight sadness. you don’t enjoy getting yelled at.
a thick silence stretches on, before crumbling into dust. you aren’t sure how much time has passed when a certain velvety voice curls around your senses.
”your highness.”
he’s come to a standstill, again. you really should just ignore him and keep walking. but you still, anyway, following his cue, turning towards him with a look that says what now? — you aren’t sure what to expect. certainly not the sentence that ends up spilling from his lips, like a spring breeze through an opened window, tinged with something you fear may be close to fondness. 
(in your chest, your heartbeat tick-tocks.)
he smiles, gentle, with eyes that see right through you. and he speaks. 
”you’re actually kind, aren’t you?”
”… huh?”
he pays no mind to your stupefied expression. continuing, unperturbed, eyeing you with a look you distinctly dislike — as if he’s trying to glimpse into your mind. ”the vase,” he hums. ”you took the blame, even though you didn’t do it.”
a huff escapes you. face hardening, setting into firm lines. ”that wasn't intentional,” you grumble, defensive. ”i just wanted him to leave.” 
but suguru shakes his head. ”you could’ve left when the maid came. but you stayed, and lied, and got yelled at so he wouldn’t have to.” a second passes, silence thick with meaning. intentional on his part, you’re sure. ”is that not what you’d call kind?”
another moment gone, little tick-tocks of your heartbeat counting down. you part your lips, but no sound comes out, as you stumble for words to say. irritation stirring in your veins. or is it nervosity? you think your skin feels a little hot, suddenly. 
just what the hell is happening?
”i’m… i’m not — ” you bite down on your lip. harshly. stammering, voice cracking a bit, to your great dismay. ”… not kind. i hate all of them.”
”but you protect them,” he whispers, ”look after them.” his smile doesn’t waver, never ever, but you’ve never seen it look quite this knowing. and suddenly, he’s closing in on you, gazing at you with laughter in his eyes. 
you try to stand your ground, wanting nothing more than to flee, curl into yourself, scratch at him until he leaves. but your throat feels so dry, all of a sudden, a sensation that only deepens with the next words he breathes into life. 
”a little sweetheart who pretends to be all big and bad…” he eyes you up and down, a meaningful look, raven locks moving as he tilts his head. towering over you. ”is that what you are?”
nothing. no smart reply comes to you. all you can muster is a harsh glare, a low hiss crawling up your throat, like you’re preparing to lunge at him. it serves as a warning, but the amusement in his eyes doesn’t fluctuate. ”you…”
he chuckles. raspy, breathy, a shiver down your spine. ”your acting is even worse than mine.”
”shut up,” you snap, baring your teeth. it comes out almost like a growl, hot and heavy in your veins, and you don’t understand where all this emotion came from. strangling you, bubbling up within your bobbing throat. ”you don’t — understand me, okay?”
no one does. 
and that’s fine. you don’t want them to. 
(you just want him to stop looking you so fondly.)
”not yet,” he admits, eyes fluttering shut. a thoughtful hum on the tip of his tongue. ”… but i think i’m beginning to.” 
he’s looking at you, again, amber and honey and raven lashes, lapping up every hint of a tell in the way you shift from foot to foot. speaking like he knows you, like he’s known you all his life. ”you act difficult — scare everyone away… but deep down, you love them, don’t you?”
a scoff. desperate. ”no.”
”you want to loved,” he continues, not allowing you to flee. relentless in his pursuit of whatever he imagines must be hidden inside your soul, beneath all those layers of frost. ”understood. everyone does.”
”not me.”
”your highness.”
the knight continues to look at you, and you avoid his gaze like it could burn you into cinders — like it could turn you into dust. but he parts his lips, anyway, and speaks. so sincere it makes your chest hurt. words that echo through the endless hallways of the castle, against the surfaces of glass that line the walls. words that make your skin flush under the shadows of rain soon to fall.
he smiles, wide, teeth showing. and he speaks. 
”that was very, very kind of you.”
silence. so thick you wonder if you’re about to faint, or fall to the floor, or something equally embarrassing. a sentence so simple shouldn’t be making you feel this way, this weird. you don’t understand why it makes you feel anything, anything at all, and you don’t understand why your eyes suddenly feel a little glassy.
(someone saw through the act.)
”… whatever,” you squeeze out, at last, but it sounds a little meek. a tiny puff of air. turning around, sharply, blinking rapidly to shoo the tears away. ”i just didn’t want to hear that brat whining. it was hurting my ears.” 
suguru bites back a coo.
as he watches your back retreat, hurrying back to the comfort of your room, he’s almost certain that he’s making progress. that your walls are beginning to crumble, slowly but surely, bit by bit. the path before him clears — a thorny, foggy path through the woods, until a sunsplatter falls on the ground and tells him where to plant his feet. 
it’s not much, barely anything, but suguru’s always liked his hunts blindsighted. 
you turn a corner, and he follows suit. sparing a passing glance at the clouds on the boundary of the horizon, the sole ray of sunlight breaking through. and then he’s catching up to you with long strides.
(it’s his duty, yes, but he doesn’t think he’d mind it so much — getting to know his kind, misunderstood little lord.)
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sadly, disappointingly, to your great shame — you begin to grow used to suguru’s presence in your life. constant, always close behind, always ready to be of service. as infuriatingly patient as ever. it’s a stretch, but you may have become just the slightest bit fond of it. 
maybe, possibly, you’ve even silently decided to stop trying to scare him away. stop acting so difficult with him, all the time.
or, well — sometimes.
”take me outside, please?” you whine, bottom lip jutting out into a deep pout, accompanied by a flutter of your lashes. 
the voice that spills from your lips is hopelessly meek, pleading, so sweet you’d get cavities if you didn’t know how fake it was. effortless, perfected, your one god-given talent; an irresistible pair of puppy dog eyes. 
suguru answers with a smile, tight-lipped. ”no.”
a beat.
”aw, come on,” you whine, barely resisting the urge to stomp your feet. frustration bubbles up inside your veins, trickling down to your wrist, nails digging into your palm. ”why not? you’re supposed to listen to my every command!”
”still no, sweetheart.”
a series of grumbles scratch at the base of your throat, but suguru pays them no mind. patient, patient, patient. he’s even kind enough to ignore the way you pointedly avoid his gaze after the term of endearment slips past his lips. ”sorry, but that part is non-negotiable. you know i don’t have a choice.”
you do know. but it still makes your mood sour, pulls a sigh from out of your lips. he moves closer, familiar silver tray in hand, dragging a chair to where you’re seated by the windowsill.
”i did bring you this, though,” he gestures towards a particular glass bowl, filled with red berries. they shine like rubies in the light. ”strawberries, like you asked for. wasn’t easy to get a hold of.”
he places the tray right next to you, smiling as he takes a seat. ”cheer up, hm? don’t be so grumpy.”
your pout remains, but you do settle down a bit. just the teeniest, tiniest bit. definitely not because he was kind enough to indulge your cravings.
”… thanks for breakfast.” 
suguru beams, and you avoid his gaze, like always. biting into one of the rubies, the soft murmur of thanks still burning your tongue, soothed by sweet nectar. he lets you flee, lets you continue on like nothing happened, like it isn’t obvious how much you’ve warmed up to his presence. 
”you’re welcome, my lord.”
(even after spending more than a month together, he still won’t call you by name. won’t even entertain the idea. why does that bother you so much?)
peacefully, your morning ritual continues. the same as always; you eat, while suguru watches, a sweet smile on his lips. the silence remains until he opts to break it.
today, he sounds a little hesitant.
”say, your highness…” he picks at a piece of lint on his cloak, absentminded. ”could i ask you for a favour?”
you almost drop your fork. gaze snapping up to meet his own, as a few silent seconds tick on by. tick-tock, tick-tock. then you clear your throat, regaining your composure. trying to sound nonchalant. 
”what is it?” you probe, cutting across the yolk on your fried egg. watching the orange seep out, trickling down, sinking into the crust of your toast. suguru hums. 
”a friend of mine — he’s also a knight…” he wrings his hands together, legs parted. tapping his heel on the floor. ”we’ve been sparring together for a while. once a week, at least. but ever since the king hired me, we haven’t been able to.”
you watch as his gaze flickers down to his lap, then up to you again. it’s smooth, charming, but you still think it seems a little out of place. he must not be used to asking for favours.
”i was wondering if you’d be willing to accompany me? just down to the training fields by the castle.” his fingers tap against his bended knee, slow and methodical, from pointer to pinkie. ”the king gave us permission to spar there, but i’m obviously not allowed to let you out of my sight…”
you bite back a huff. obviously. he waits for a response that doesn’t come.
”… so?”
you meet his gaze, expectant. hopeful, maybe. it’s a nice touch — matches with the amber of his eyes.
”would that be alright with you?” he inquires, again. you think he sounds just a tiny bit unsure of himself.
a moment passes. silently, you look down at your lap. folded hands, itching to do something. something fun, new, exciting. 
your tongue forms around a wish. it spills into the air like a shooting star, a meek little whisper. ”… i wanna swing a sword.”
suguru blinks. once, then twice. ”you…” he tastes the words on his tongue, turning the image of you around in his head. ”want to swing a sword?
you nod. glancing at him, coughing a little under your breath. summoning just a bit of audacity, eyes trailing towards the sword by his hip. longingly. ”… i’ll only watch you spar if you let me try it.” 
a brief pause. he studies you intently, a mystery he’s yet to solve.
then he chuckles, light and airy, full of mirth. a sound you’ve grown fond of. ”well, okay. that’s fair.” he rises to his feet, smiling down at you. ”thank you, my lord.”
you don’t respond. but your eyes glitter with excitement, as you dutifully finish your breakfast, wolfing it down. waiting patiently for him to head down to the kitchen with the tray, for him to change into his training gear. 
when he knocks at your door, he’s wearing a flimsy little blouse. almost see-through, if you squint your eyes enough, exposing his bare skin. you think you see a scar curling up from his chest, reaching for his shoulder, just below it by a hair. and you can see his biceps, the fat, the muscle, practically begging to be bitten.
(tantalizing.)
he’s speaking to you, saying something, but you tune him out. focused on trying to restrain your growing urges. when he reaches up to fix his hair, tied up into a bun, the muscle of his arm twitches.
and, suddenly, you can’t contain yourself. 
giving in to the salivating temptation, you grab hold of his bicep, sinking your teeth into it — gentle, but enough that he feels it, enough to leave a set of teeth marks soon to fade. gnawing at it like a dog with a bone.
suguru blinks. pupils wide, quirking a silent brow, quick to smooth over the surprise in his eyes. 
you don’t move. teeth planted against the fabric, the firm muscle beneath it, surprising even yourself; his arm just looked so biteable. you wonder if he’s put off. upset.
but, as always, he’s eerily placating. like nothing you say or do could rock the ship of his patience, an endless sea. smooth, airy laughter flits past his lips, giving way to an indulgent smile. he studies you with fascination, like you’re a creature he hasn’t encountered before.
ever so gently, he grabs hold of your jaw — and the warmth of his touch shocks you into letting it go slack. before you can say anything, he’s rolling up his sleeve. exposing the tender skin.
”go wild, your highness,” he grins, offering his arm up like a lamb to a hungry fox. a teasing mirth in his eyes, his voice coming out as a low purr. ”i don't mind a mark or two.”
to your horror — it flusters you terribly.
you cough. taking a step back, averting your gaze, suddenly disinterested. feigning indifference, anyhow; that was definitely a scar. and a cool one, too. you think you might even have caught a glimpse of a birthmark or two. 
”i’m… just keeping you on your toes,” you stumble for an excuse, still unable to look at him properly. missing the way he stifles a bout of laughter. ”for your training, y’know? gotta stay on your guard.”
”of course. i appreciate the help,” he quips, fond, as he gestures for you to take the lead. ”he’s waiting for us. are you ready?”
for a second, just a second, you consider grabbing his arm. letting him guide you. but the thought is fleeting, like a bundle of peach blossoms, brushed away by the sunshine seeping in through the window’s glass — illuminating the marble flooring. 
a mellow excitement simmers in your bones. 
you head down to the training grounds with a pep in your step, and your loyal knight follows suit. just behind, always, wearing a smile you can’t see.
”suguru!”
the man that greets you with cheerful fervour, seated cross-legged under a peach tree, isn’t quite what you expected him to be. 
when you heard knight, you imagined someone a bit more… intimidating. but this guy is far from imposing. a little shorter than suguru, brown locks stopping right around his ears, exposing his sunkissed skin. freckles scattered across his nose and cheekbones, a happy little grin curled right around his lips. 
he’s cute. a bit like a puppy. not very knightly, though.
”haibara,” suguru greets, a mellow warmth to his voice. the man in question shoots up from the ground, stumbling towards you both, excitement in his hazel eyes. suguru gestures towards you. ”this is the royal heir. the one who doesn’t like having their hand kissed.”
your head whips towards him, an angered flush to your cheeks — you’re almost sure that he’s smirking, giving you a teasing glance, but haibara’s exclamation prevents you from voicing any protests. 
”hi!” he beams, bowing deeply, so sudden that you jolt a bit. his head whips up instantly, brown locks stirred by the breeze, voice warm and smooth. like honeysuckle nectar. ”thank you so much for letting us spar, your highness! i’ve heard so much about you!”
”… um.” your gaze falls down to a pebble on the ground. unsure of how to act, murmuring under your breath. ”you — it’s… no need to thank me. i wanted to get some air, anyway.”
he continues to look at you, eyes shining with a pure kind of cheer. glittering, honeyed and sweet, too bright to look at directly. you hear suguru exhale amusedly to your left. he’s looking right at you when you glance towards him. 
his hand inches closer to his scabbard, fingertips trailing down the leather. ”should we get started?”
haibara brightens even further, if possible. ”oh, right!” he exclaims. ”you wanted to try swinging a sword, your highness? that’s so exciting! is this your first time?”
a blink. you aren’t really sure how to handle this guy; he’s a bit too sunny to be snarky to. like a fuzzy ball of sunshine given human form, bouncing on the balls of his feet, tail practically wagging behind him. all you can muster is a weak cough. ”uh, yeah.”
”well, you’re here to learn.” suguru speaks up. guiding you both towards the center of the field, hand still at the sword on his hip. ”let me show you.”
in one smooth motion, he’s pulling it out of its sheath, a stripe of silver absorbing the rays of the sun. glimmering, slicing the blue sky in half. 
you’re a little awestruck.
and then he’s facing you. leaning forward, with a familiar tilt of his head, offering the blade with a smile. ”do you want to try swinging it around a bit?”
barely containing your excitement, you nod. making grabby hands at it.
that makes him chuckle. he makes no move to stop you when your fingers curl around the hilt, only parting his lips for a quick warning, a split second too late. you take it into your arms. ”careful, it’s a bit —”
— the sword clatters to the ground with a thud.
silence.
haibara breaks out into laughter, sudden, fond and warm, but enough to have your cheeks burning. fresh with embarrassment, humiliation, before you even hear the breathy chuckle that slips from your knight’s lips.
”… i was gonna say it’s a bit heavy,” he hums, closed knuckle in front of his lips and obscuring his smile. ”i’m sorry, my lord. do you —”
”whatever.” a hiss escapes your throat, and suguru winces. he knows where this is going; knows a bundle of thorns just erupted from the stalk of your spine, knows you're about to get defensive. ”like i’d ever want to touch your dusty sword. get — get real.”
he tries again. patient, patient. the familiar tick-tock of his never-ending kindness. ”hey, we aren’t making fun of you,” he soothes, hoping it’ll make your edges soften. like scratching a feral dog behind its ear. ”it’s understandable. you weren’t expecting it. i’ll let you try again, hm?”
a tiny pause. 
(you’re being childish, again.)
brows furrowed, hanging your head, you kick at a pebble on the ground. having collected yourself a bit. ”… maybe next time,” you finally speak, still grumbling. after you’ve spent some time lifting weights in your room.
suguru tilts his head. speaking softly. ”you sure?”
”yeah.” taking a step back, you raise your head to meet his gaze. ”i’ll just watch you. it’s fine.”
”… okay,” he exhales. leaning forward to pick up his sword from the ground. ”i can spar with you next time, if you want. you’ll be a pro in no time.”
he gives you another sweet smile, bangs fluttering with the breeze; painted in cerulean sunshine. he’s so gorgeous it makes you angry.
a sharp huff. ”don’t patronize me,” is all you can mutter, meeting the eyes of the knight by his side. standing up straighter. ”haibara,” you call. ”knock him around a bit for me, okay?”
from the corner of your eye, suguru pouts.
but the puppy-knight only grins, as bright as the sun in the sky. ”you got it, your highness!” he salutes, cheeks flushing with giddy excitement. 
as you sit on the benches a little farther away, dragonflies buzz in the air. fleeting glimmers of chartreuse and cerulean, chirping happily, keeping you company as you watch the knights spar. the clangs of their blades, the elegance in the way suguru moves. a violent little waltz. he’s sweating, just a bit, but you can see it, droplets glittering in the sun. he looks like he’s having fun. 
he looks like himself. like he isn’t holding back, isn’t acting obedient or well-mannered for the sake of pleasing his superiors. like this, here and now, he looks wild, free, a dog that turns into a wolf under the glow of the sun. 
for a second, your eyes meet — just as he narrowly avoids a slash. 
and he smirks, ever so slightly, suddenly gaining a little more momentum. flashing a brief grin, sunlight reflecting off his white teeth. you huff. heat crawling up your neck. 
show off.
”excuse me, your highness?”
the sudden voice snaps you out of your stupor. mesmerized, by the spectacle before you, the glimmer of their blades and the sight of your knight’s smile. it’s an unfamiliar voice, close, close enough that your head turns to meet the stranger’s ugly grin — inching closer still.
(uh oh.)
— just up ahead, lost in their own worlds, are two knights; huffing and smirking and narrowly dodging each other’s strikes. suguru takes the lead, as always, guiding haibara into improving his swordsmanship. but they both learn from it. and it’s fun, lighthearted, a respite from their more gruesome duties. 
it’s helped suguru more times than he can count; those tiny flickers of normalcy, in a wholly unpredictable profession. a life of bowing and bowing and killing what needs to be killed.
slash, slash, and then two steps back. the same old dance. haibara’s starting to lose momentum, he notices, adam’s apple bobbing with his heavy breaths.
so suguru stills. ”alright, that’s enough for now,” he calls, stretching idly. craning his head, looking around him absently. he wonders if you’re still watching. ”i think i see what the problem is.”
haibara perks up, obeying without a word, wiping the sweat off his forehead and walking towards his friend with a sunny smile. ”okay, great!”
but suguru isn’t looking at him, anymore. 
he’s looking towards the benches, where his little lord is seated, speaking to an unfamiliar man. one who currently has his hand on their forearm, caressing it. you look guarded, irritated, a little like you’re about to bare your teeth. trying to pull away, but he doesn’t let you. and suguru recognizes that look — the one that means you’re about to start biting and hissing, inching your claws into whatever’s within reach.
(not to injure, but to ground yourself, he’s learned. like how you clutch onto the fabric of your clothing when you’re nervous, sink your nails into your palm. not to injure, but to feel safe.)
in the blink of an eye, he’s making his way towards you. beckoned by his duty, his natural instinct, a protective itch that curls around his ribcage and crawls up his throat. large strides, much swifter than usual. he moves without thinking, and he’s there before he has the time to form a coherent thought.
with as much gentleness as he can possibly muster, he grabs hold of the stranger’s arm. smiling, tight-lipped, cold. ”excuse me, sir,” he greets, ”i need to borrow them for a moment.”
the man meets his gaze with a sour look. bitter, ugly, oddly possessive — like he thinks he owns the arm he’s holding. it makes suguru want to teach him a lesson, show off his sword, but he resists the temptation in a way you never could. his expression is a warning, though, enough to scare most rowdy drunkards and snobby royals away.
and it works. the stranger looks to you, briefly, before finally letting go of your poor arm. something rigid in suguru’s jaw finally relaxes. ”who are you?” comes a question, as the man turns to face him with a look full of contempt. ”their knight?”
before suguru can say anything, you’ve hopped off the bench. clinging to him, with a firm nod; your arms around his bicep. ”yeah. he is.”
(suguru fails to stifle a smug smile.)
with a string of bitter mumbles and a silent frustration, the man scurries away. hesitant, only after being met with another warning glance from the knight in front of him. intimidating, far less subtle, towering above him like a predator over their prey.
as soon as he’s out of sight, your knight turns to you, scanning your face for signs of discomfort. loyal, attentive. ”are you okay?” he asks, a silent shame in his voice. if only he had noticed sooner. ”did he do anything to you?”
you shake your head. ”it’s fine. probably one of the king’s friends — stops by every now and then.” a sigh, a little fatigued, following your explanation. ”they’re mostly harmless. just creepy and touchy.”
”that doesn’t sound very harmless…” suguru lets you pull away, quick to hide the disappointment that flashes in his eyes as you do, waving haibara off with a silent gesture of give us a minute. ”don’t worry. i’ll keep an eye out, from now on.”
still a little guarded, you nod. letting suguru guide you by the small of your back, taking a seat on the solid bench once more. together, this time. 
”there are a lot of those types around the town square,” he exhales, weary, stretching out his limbs before leaning forward. elbows resting on his bended knees. ”they’re a pain to deal with. i’m sorry you have to.”
”are there?” you ask, tone laced with curiosity. ”in the town?” 
”well, i’m sure you’ve heard. that place is a bit of a mess, these days…” a click of his tongue. ”more work for the knights.”
a dragonfly settles on the bridge of his nose. suguru blinks, smiling gently, until it flutters away with a raspy squeak. fading away, melting into the blue paint of the sky. you bite down on your lip. 
”… i haven’t.”
he turns to look at you. raising a brow.
”i haven’t heard about it at all. the king told you, right?” you meet his eye with a rueful smile, before leaning back, nose turned up towards the sky. for a second, you think the air smells a bit of rain. ”i’m not allowed to go out into town.”
your knight falls silent.
so you continue. grinning, with no humour to it. maybe a bit eager to overshare, to break the silent rules you’ve been given. the secret tastes like honey on your tongue. ”i’m a bastard child. he probably told you that, too.” you wouldn’t be surprised. ”thinks it's optimal for everyone involved if i just stay cooped up in the castle.” 
closing your eyes, your voice drips with something close to longing. barely above a whisper. ”i haven't been to the town in a couple of years, now.”
he only hums. ”i see.”
(there’s sympathy, in his amber eyes, but you don’t turn around to see it. you don’t turn to look at him until he’s finished sparring, and haibara’s about to leave. 
you wonder if he’ll meet your gaze the same way as before.) 
— that evening, suguru knocks at your door right as you're about to fall asleep. three rapid knocks, the same as always, knuckle against wood. rousing you from your rest.
when you open it, he’s holding something out towards you.
”here,” he says, voice set to a mellow tilt. upon closer inspection, he’s holding a bottle. transparent, see-through, stuffed to the brim with sea glass. smooth little colourful pebbles, green and blue and pink and orange, like frozen little camellias. ”for you, my lord.”
blinking sluggishly, you take it into your arms; holding it up in front of your eyes. when the light of the moon flitting in through the curtains hits it just right, it blossoms with colour, sparkling with every shade you’ve ever seen. shining like a heap of jewels, in your hands, like something out of a picture-book. magical.
it’s mesmerizing. 
”i asked haibara to get it from the town,” he explains, drinking in your expression of awe. ”this one lady — she collects them herself. i see her by the beach nearly every time i go there.”
when you look up, his smile is serene. peaceful, if just a little bit tired. but he looks pleased, lips curling around silky syllables. ”i thought of you.”
it’s odd, you think. you aren’t a stranger to gifts; you get most of what you desire if you just say the word, an easy way for the king to keep you compliant. as if to make up for the plethora of experiences you’ve missed out on since your birth. and you’ve had more than a couple suitors, men and women, eager to gain your favour. 
but this — this particular gift…
”it’s pretty,” you murmur, finally, unable to voice even a sliver of the emotions clogging up your chest. shying away from his gaze, feeling your heart pulse against your ribcage. ”… i guess.”
suguru just smiles. always, always, always. no matter what you do. ”i’ll get you something else next time,” he promises, ready to go back to standing guard outside the castle. ”get some sleep, okay? be good.”
and you can’t bring yourself to protest. not even a tiny huff of don’t tell me what to do. you can’t bring yourself to do anything but nod, soft and pliant, still gazing at the bottle of sea glass in your hands. like you might turn into one of those transparent pebbles, if you wish for it enough.
that night, you dream of waves crashing against sand, the taste of seafoam on your tongue. every colour in the world. a newfound, reawakened wish — a wish to see more of it.
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”are you trying to sneak out again?”
owlishly, all you can do is blink. propped up on the windowsill, immersed in the process of tying pillowcases and bedsheets together to form a rope. caught in the act — by none other than suguru, standing by the threshold, hand on his hip, watching you with silent disapproval. you didn’t think he’d come check on you this late.
a gulp. ”… no?”
and he sighs. walking towards you, brows furrowed, running a hand through his raven locks. you can tell he’s trying to be a little more sympathetic, this time, but it only makes the bitter taste on your tongue thicken. 
”look — i know it’s not fair to you, but the king and queen specifically ordered me —”
”i get it,” you cut him off, with a hiss, a little harsher than you meant to. you soften your voice before continuing. "i know. okay? i know.”
resigned, but frustrated, you clench the silken material of the bedsheets. glaring at them like it’s somehow their fault that the queen couldn’t bear an heir, that your father has a knack for sleeping around. like it’s their fault that he’s so ashamed of your existence that he doesn’t want you integrating into society on anything other than his own terms, until he’s dead and gone and doesn’t have to take accountability anymore. 
like it’s their fault that it’ll always be like this, forever, that it’s better not to hope for more.
(why can’t you just accept that?)
the knight before you exhales. troubled, watching your nails dig into the fabric, watching the way you bite down on your lip and rapidly blink. all signs of your frustration, your sadness, that you always try so hard to hide. 
”hey. how about this?” he tries to get your attention, voice soothing enough to coax you into raising your gaze. ”i’ll tell you a story instead.”
he stifles a chuckle, at the dubious look you send his way, teetering on the edge of a glare. slithering towards you. ”i’ve seen a lot of places. i can tell you about them, if you’d like.” he takes a seat right next to you, on the windowsill, a slice of the moon in bare view. ”what do you want to know?”
you’re silent, for a second. gnawing at your bottom lip, in contemplation, the tiniest bit of nervosity. like you aren’t quite sure if you’re allowed to speak your wishes aloud.
”… the woods.”
suguru blinks. a little caught off guard. 
his silence makes you want to bare your fangs, a bit. misinterpreting it as judgement. your voice comes out cold. ”what?”
but he’s quick to smooth over his features with a smile, as always, cocking his head amusedly. ”sorry — i was expecting you to say the sea, or something,” he stifles a chuckle. “it's the woods that you're so curious about?”
you pout. ”… you can see them from here.”
his head turns towards the window’s glass, squinting his eyes to see the sea of dark green in the distance, a cluster of thick trees. he hums. ”yeah, you can. well… that particular spot isn’t too bad. not many bandits or beasts.” your gaze stays glued onto his lips, every word that spills from them. ”there are wolves, though. this side of the kingdom is crawling with them.”
”they sell their fur,” you state.
(that’s one thing you do know. you spent more of your childhood around wolf pelts than your own parents. they might as well be your legal guardians.)
suguru nods. ”they do. it's a big portion of the kingdom’s exports… general market, as well.”
a frown tugs at your lips. you think of your fluffy childhood guardians, unable to howl or even make a sound; hunters turned decorations.
”isn’t that… kinda fucked up?”
he smiles, revealing no emotion. ”do you think it is?”
you only shrug. ”i’m not surprised that they eat us.” you think of all the stories you’ve heard, the fairy tales you grew up with. ”… if i was a wolf, i’d hate humans too.”
”would you, now?” familiar amusement, seeping from his tongue, soft crows’ feet by his cedar eyes. ”good thing you aren’t a wolf, then. we’re lucky.”
”mhm. you’d be my first target.”
that makes him chuckle, a little deeper this time, and you drink in the glimpse you get of his teeth, the fondness that dances across his face when he looks at you. 
a sudden urge overtakes you. 
”… i wanna know about something else.”
”oh?” he tilts his head, soft locks framing his kind eyes. ”and what would that be, my dear?”
”you.”
… 
for a moment, the mask falls. a silent, subtle kind of surprise, something in the way the tips of his fingers twitch that tells you he’s caught off guard. it coaxes you into continuing, following through with your question. swallowing the embarrassment. ”i wanna know more about you. how you became a knight, and… stuff.”
suguru looks at you with a strange glint in his eyes. undecipherable, unspoken, just watching as moonrays glide across your soft skin. ruffling your hair. 
a hum buzzes in his throat. he scratches at the back of his neck, resisting the urge to dodge your question. clicking his tongue. ”… well.”
anticipation blooms in your eyes, and you cross your legs, waiting patiently to hear him speak. he can’t deny you, when you look at him like that — so suguru simply exhales. a breath of indulgence. 
”it’s not a very interesting story,” he leads, closing his eyes in remembrance. ”they scouted me when i was pretty young…. a bit of a troublemaker, honestly, but i got lucky." memories flash behind his eyelids, fresh bruises, sliced fruit. bittersweet. ”ended up around some powerful people. they liked me. knighthood felt like the right choice.” 
he meets your entranced gaze, speaking with sincerity, devotion dipped in honey and holy water. sinking deeper still. ”it’s my purpose in life,” he breathes, a flurry of whispers on his tongue. heavier than either of you know. ”truly.”
you cock your head. ”being a knight?”
”protecting the weak,” he says. recites. like he’s said it a million times before, in the face of beasts, in the reflection of broken mirrors, a mantra to live and die by. ”protecting those who can’t protect themselves.”
the look in his eyes frightens you. deeper than the deepest lake, dark and murky, dragging him down. a devotion that smells of iron, tastes like steel. mania disguised as loyalty.
(knights love duty. almost as much as they love dying for it. that’s what your father always says.)
”but, honestly — this kind of thing isn’t bad,” he breaks you out of your trance, grinning sheepishly, almost boyishly. ”it’s been a while since i had so much fun on the job… thank you for that.”
he’s looking at you, right at you, into your eyes, an expression reserved for you and you alone. terribly earnest, grateful, a sincerity he wouldn’t show anyone else. ”honestly.”
you can do nothing but avert your gaze. swiftly, meekly, feeling heat crawl up your neck, blooming across your cheeks like the branches of a plum tree. suguru grins, gulping down the slightest coo — but he can’t resist the urge to poke fun at you a bit.
”… you’re a shy one, aren’t you?” he searches for your gaze, chuckling when he doesn’t find it. when you don’t let him. ”can’t even look people in the eye if they’re being nice to you… how precious.”
”oh, shut up,” you groan, glaring out into the night sky. blinking slowly, drowsily, biting back a yawn that your attentive knight still manages to notice. 
(he looks a little enamored.)
”ah… is my sweet little lord getting sleepy?”
”no,” you scoff, far too quick. ”i’m… tired.”
”of course.” he reaches out, carefully, to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. ”tired — not sleepy. that would be outrageous, wouldn’t it?” 
a yawn. ”it would.” 
low laughter bubbles up at the base of his throat, like seafoam, melting roses. deep and summery. ”alright. that’s enough stories for tonight, i think.” and with that, he gets up. ”let’s get you to bed, hm?”
rubbing your eyes, absently kicking your legs, you give him a slow nod of your head. making grabby hands at him that you’re sure you’ll be embarrassed about in the morning — but it feels easy, to be greedy, to know that your wants won’t be ignored when you’re with him. ”carry me, suguru.”
an indulgent smile. he doesn’t say anything, only curling his arms under your thighs, lifting you up and cradling you to his chest. you can feel his firm muscles, like this, trace them with your fingertips, hear the beating of his heart. tick-tock, tick-tock. a lullaby. a sense of safety, when you can’t tell where your heartbeat ends and his begins.
lost in that fuzzy, sleepy feeling, a blink away from falling into dreamland, fatigue washes over you — but you cling to his sleeve, even as he tucks you in, dragging the blanket up to cover you properly. 
”suguru,” you murmur, so quiet you doubt he hears it. ”will you tell me more stories tomorrow?”
”of course.” right before sleep coaxes you into its cradle, you feel the weight of his palm on your head; ruffling your hair. ”as many as you want, your highness.”
he smiles, as your eyes flutter shut, at the soft little breaths that flow from your lips. before he slips out, he blows out the candle on the nightstand, a silent prayer that your dreams will be kinder to you than his. 
— one week of nagging later, suguru’s resolve finally crumbles. it’s progress, at last, a tiny crack in his clockwork heart. 
but for once, it works in your favour.
”do you really want to see the outside world that badly?”
he’s got an arm locked around your waist, stopping you from one of your numerous escape attempts. you’ve gotten bolder, sneaking away the moment he takes his eyes off you, but suguru isn’t easy to fool — catching up to you just as you stepped outside the castle, now stuck in place under the portico. it’s to be expected, with that sixth sense of his, the one that seems to alert him as soon as you think the thought to get him in trouble. 
but you still can’t help but pout, huff and puff, pushing at his chest in a helpless attempt to break free. he’s sweet about it, gentle, but entirely unmoving. like a big, annoyingly handsome rock.
”what do you think?” you scoff, narrowing your eyes at him. ”no, of course not. this whole time, i’ve just been trying to escape for fun. like, as a bit. how could you tell?”
he rolls his eyes, and you break out into a grin. ”mind the sarcasm, please.” he barely resists the urge to pinch your side; letting you loose, instead, trusting you not to scurry away. he’d catch up to you instantly, anyhow. "i’m just saying, it might not be as interesting as you think —“
”what are you, stupid?”
”what did we say about letting people finish their sentences?” he raises a brow, and you try not to cower. rolling your eyes, instead. suguru just sighs. ”i understand why you want to leave. but you have a good life, here. better than most.”
”… i know that,” you grumble, biting down on your lip. a resignation in your eyes that your knight can't protect you from. ”i just —”
you sigh. 
”it’s just so suffocating.”
suguru falls into a contemplative silence. weighing his options, studying the flicker of emotions in your eyes, the tapping of your idle fingers. hands eager to fidget with something. 
moments pass, one at a time, a familiar lullaby of pitter patter ricocheting off the ground just outside your vision. the air smells of marigolds, burning wood, wet concrete. the beginnings of summer.
finally, he makes up his mind. 
”okay, okay.”
when you look up from the ground, what awaits you is an outstretched hand. a familiar palm, and a familiar knight, with a familiar smile on his face. ”but don’t get used to it, alright?”
you part your lips, but no sound comes out. gaping like a fish out of water, hunting for the right words. suguru waits. patient.
”w — hold on,” you stutter, eyes blooming with hesitant hope, studying him intently for any signs of trickery. ”you mean — seriously? like, for real?”
he shrugs. ”it’s my duty to keep you happy.” devotion clings to his tongue, sweet indulgence. ”figure i can make an exception this once.”
another moment passes.
(there isn’t a hint of deceit in his features.)
a grin breaks out across your lips, like a joyous bolt of lighting, and you lunge into his chest — throwing your arms over his broad shoulders, jumping up and down, planting a wet kiss against his cheek. bubbly, giddy, heart racing with disbelief. you don’t even have it in you to be bratty. ”thank you, thank you, thank you!”
suguru makes a choked out noise, a little comical, breath hitching in the back of his throat. stabilizing you with a palm on the small of your back, patting it softly, once or twice, before retracting his arm and pulling away. clearing his throat. ”… you’re welcome.”
(his ears burn a cherry red.)
”but this is our little secret,” he reminds you, firmly, collecting himself. or trying to. ”got it?”
”yep.”
”if anyone asks, you —”
”yep, yep, understood.” you brush him off, still grinning brightly. ”don’t worry! i won’t tell a soul, i promise. swear on my mother’s grave!”
your knight exhales. worried, maybe, a little exasperated — mostly just trying to mask how infectious your joy is. how addicted he is to it, now that he’s seen it up close. he’s only caught glimpses in the midst of your painting sessions; to see it directed at him instead of the wolf on your canvas is a treasure he won’t soon forget. 
sneakily, stealthily, like a pair of bad dogs, the two of you begin your journey to the woods on the horizon. wearing cloaks, sticking together, until the sun begins to set and the sky drains of colour. 
and before you know it, it’s right there in front of you. a narrow path into the woods, a cluster of trees, a world you’ve always dreamed of. dark and gritty, beautiful, brimming with bugs and sights yet to be seen. creatures you could only ever see in picture books. a dreamlike world that takes shape before you, like paint splattered on a canvas, as you follow suguru’s lead — right behind him, clinging to the fabric of his cloak, excitement flooding your veins. heart thumping erratically in your chest. 
when you’ve made it to a tiny clearing, you stop in your tracks. suguru’s holding a lantern, a flicker of orange in the dark green world before you, attracting fuzzy moths. proud trees stand tall all around you, keeping guard, mushrooms and forget me nots scattered across the dewy patches of grass. keeping them company. 
everything smells of life, earth, oak wood and thinly veiled secrets. you want to live here forever.
suguru turns to look at you, noticing the way you’ve stilled. completely mesmerized, bewitched, eyes gleaming with childlike happiness. he tuts, doing a bad job at hiding how pleased he is. the sound makes you meet his eye.
”careful,” he croons, inching closer. fingertips ghosting over your wrist, right above your pulsepoint. ”could be wolves around. stay close.”
you tilt your head, feigning confusion. ”i’ve already got one right next to me, though?”
the comment earns you a flat expression, unimpressed, and it pulls a giggle from out your throat. the corners of suguru’s lips curl up, unwillingly, as he shakes his head; exhaling a tired breath. exasperated. 
then he hums. ”well, at least you're aware.”
suddenly, he’s walking forward, slipping away, cold air replacing the buzzing warmth of his skin on yours. hot blood, ever flowing, hidden within his veins — pumped out from his heavy heart. it’s there and then it’s gone. tick, tock, one step after the other, until he’s turning around to face you again. unfurling his outstretched hand, waiting for you to grab hold of it. 
his long hair sways with the breeze, smooth and unburdened, black like the night sky above you. a starry glint in his eyes. his voice comes out deep, a raspy lilt, like the scraping of metal against concrete. 
when he smiles, you think you catch a glimpse of sharp teeth.
”will you trust this wolf to keep you safe?”
under the web of shadows cast by the trees, barely illuminated by the shivering moon, all you can do is watch him. his gleaming eyes, the curl of a toothy grin on his lips. a knight, a wolf, a friend.
your protector. 
finally, finally, you grasp onto his offered hand. his fingers intertwine with your own, a puzzle finally solved, and his palm feels a little calloused. skin littered with tiny scars, years of training and killing, but it’s still somehow so soft. nice and smooth. 
he’s warm. and now he’s smiling at you, like you put all the gold of the world into his palm. 
”yeah,” you grin, a little cheeky. stepping closer, clinging to him without restraint, knowing he’ll indulge you. ”keep me safe, wolfie.”
his laughter rings out into the air like a cicada song, sweet and nostalgic. or a howl, maybe. it makes you want to gnaw at his bones; memorize his taste, so you’ll never quite be without him. it’s not your fault he looks so chewable when he’s smiling like that.
”i will,” he promises, vows, pledges, hand on his heavy heart. knights and their rituals. ”you don’t have to worry about a thing. not while i’m here.”
and you don’t. you know you don’t. because suguru is the greatest knight, the coolest wolf, and his clockwork heart never ceases to tick. it won’t break under pressure, no matter how much you push — so you don’t bother holding back. wrapping both arms around his bicep, cozying up to him, tugging at his cloak with a pep in your step. 
”c’mon, c’mon!" you beckon him forward. "i wanna see how everything looks up close.”
and he just lets you manhandle him, for a bit. following your lead. ”of course,” he croons. ”your wish is my command, your highness.”
the night stretches on, seemingly never-ending, like the branches of the oak tree you find in the heart of the woods. broken, beautiful, stretching out in all directions — as if wishing to engulf the world. a garden of forking paths, covered in jagged bark, but still somehow so warm to the touch. you’re sure there’s a heartbeat in there, somewhere. maybe a couple of swords too.
all good things must come to an end. but you refuse to leave the comfort of your mossy haven until suguru promises to bring you back, someday, maybe, if you play nice. it’s a deal that you’re willing to take.
only then do you begin your journey back towards the castle. having gotten your fill, for now, left to wallow in the newfound sights etched into your memory. still clinging to your knight like a child with their favorite doll, babbling into his ear about something or another. about how you’re almost sure you saw a wolf in the bushes, about how pretty the cicadas’ songs were. how you’re gonna convince him to take you there every single day.
the sun is yawning, stretching its endless limbs out, getting ready to rise and envelop the world. the sky is a calm blue, soon to be painted orange and pink, but you aren’t tired at all. you must sound a little incoherent, but suguru nods along to your every word. listening attentively.
so kind. so patient. sure, he’s a tease, and more than a little patronizing — but you don’t think you’ve ever liked anyone this much before. it’s weird. it’s fun. 
(you wonder if he feels the same.)
”hey, suguru?”
he keeps his eyes locked on the road ahead, but still spares you a brief glance, just to let you know you have his full attention. a second of hesitance is all your sleepy brain allows you, curiosity enveloping most of your functioning thoughts.
”would you… i mean. if i was, like… a different person —” you pause. suguru quirks a brow, and you suddenly feel a little flustered. ”um, what i mean is! like, if the king ordered you to be someone else’s knight… would you protect them like you do with me?”
he blinks. once, then twice, meeting your hopeful gaze. stifling a yawn, and parting his lips. 
”obviously.”
your face falls. lips dropping down into a soft pout, rich with disappointment, paired with a barely audible huff. suguru furrows his brows, playfully, smiling in the way he always does when he’s about to tease you.
”ah, my bad,” he croons. ”were you expecting something else? a… forbidden romance, perhaps?”
before you can begin to protest, warmth rushing to your cheeks, he stops walking. dropping down on one knee, dramatically, with a flutter of his cloak. theatrical. 
gently, he grabs hold of your hand, bringing it to his lips as his eyes flutter shut. you bite back a squeak. his voice comes out low, sultry, honeyed — so heavy with emotion that it’s obvious he’s faking it. ”the only person i yearn to protect is you, my liege,” his breath feels hot against your skin. ”i could never love another. i exist for you, and you alone.” 
suddenly, he’s smirking. you feel it against the knots of your knuckle, right before he cracks a single eye open. glimmering with deep amusement. ”… is that better?”
and you huff. sharply, doing all that you can to avoid getting flustered, his heavy gaze burning right into your own. it really, really doesn’t work. ”you’re so mean.”
”not mean,” he chuckles, rising to his feet. dusting off his cloak. ”i’m just… managing your expectations, my lord. they’d have my head on the chopping block if i so much as touched you without their consent — you know that.”
another little huff. ”i never said i wanted you to…” 
(you do, though.)
suguru hums. ”i’m your knight,” he reminds you, as always, until you get tired of hearing it. steadfast, irrefutable. ”that’s all. remember?”
something bitter settles on your tongue. 
but you nod. ”that’s right,” you hum. ”mine.”
a teasing mirth flickers through his eyes, like the first setting sunrays reflecting off cathedral glass. reverent, dyeing the world in all the colour it asks for. and he chuckles, raspy, amused. ”possessive little thing…”
that’s right, you remind yourself. he’s your knight. your lying, teasing, playwright of a knight. always wearing a mask, hiding behind a suit of armor, playing one role or another. only baring himself under the light of the sun, when no one is around to see. he’s infuriatingly patient, endlessly loyal, the greatest bootlicker you’ve encountered in your life. but he’s kind, too. maybe a little too kind. 
and he always, always kneels. 
such a large man, all toned muscle and tall stature, broad shoulders and a firm chest — kneeling at your feet. like a loyal dog. with a rustle of armor, a flutter of fabric, a sigh and a smile. as soon as you ask for it.
”c’mon. let’s hurry back,” you hear him say, biting back another yawn. ”before anyone finds out i kidnapped you. don’t want me to get in trouble, do you?”
”i kinda do.”
a silent look. unimpressed. it’s the most sincere expression he knows how to make, and also the most comical. ”careful,” he looks ahead, hiding his amused smile. ”wolves eat bratty heirs, you know? better stay on my good side, your highness.”
a bout of sleepy giggles. you curl an arm around his bicep, putting your weight onto him, but he doesn’t stumble. ”sorry, mr wolf! please, by all means, eat my dear father instead.”
”don’t be disrespectful.”
”sorry,” you quip, entirely unapologetic. ”i forgot you had a crush on him. that’s my ba — ow!”
suguru brushes by you, walking forward, hiding his growing grin. leaving you with an ache in your hip and two wide eyes. 
”hurry up, my lord. we don’t have all day.”
”wha — you pinched me!” you stumble after him, barely containing your quiet delight. ”they’ll have your head for this, you know!”
silent laughter. you don’t need to hear it to know that it’s there, just ahead of you, tucked into crows’ feet and a curl of his lips.
suguru always kneels.
but, sometimes, he talks to you as if you’re equals. sometimes he takes the lead, pinches your hip, tells you off a little. teasing, patient, but there’s an edge to him that he doesn’t always hide. sometimes, he lets you see it, and you figure that must make you at least a little bit special.
sometimes, he feels like your best friend.
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careless, careless, careless.
how could he ever be so careless?
everything blurs into a puddle of red. murky, sticky, everywhere all at once. all he sees is red, all he feels is burning. his heartbeat pulses at the base of his throat, bottom lip bruised and aching from hours of sinking his teeth into the flesh, over and over — every single nerve of his body running on adrenaline and nothing else.
(adrenaline and fear, maybe, but they’ve always been synonymous. never one without the other.)
the slaughter is mindless. suguru knows that’s how they like it, anyhow — knights aren’t supposed to think. they don’t need to. 
suguru certainly isn’t. cutting his way through the bandit’s den, practically growling, sword painted such a dark shade of red that he doubts he’ll ever be able to wipe it clean. harsh slashes, pure instinct, wildfire inside his veins, iron on his tongue. 
suguru isn’t thinking, he’s hunting. sniffing like a bloodhound. eyes scanning the area before him like a hungry beast.
suguru is hunting — for you.
and when he sees you, at last, tied up and barely conscious, he’s almost certain he’s going to grow claws, fangs, matted fur. that he’s going to turn into a beast beneath the fading moonlight.
but he falls to his knees, instead, like a wounded dog. throwing his burganet off, with a clatter, crawling closer. heaving breaths, untying you with shaky hands, greedy fingertips hunting for a pulsepoint —
and only when he finds it does he allow himself the luxury of breathing again.
when you come to, veins dragged down by a fuzzy sensation, your vision is blurred. foggy, dull colours on the canvas of your mind, gradually washed away as you struggle for control. you stir, and finally see the figure above you. 
what you see is a knight, a wolf, a beast beneath the moonlight. a kind, kind man.
suguru.
bloodied armor. sweaty, messy hair, sticking to his forehead. pure panic in his bloodshot eyes. he cradles your face, cold metal on your cheek, dirty and smelling of iron. he moves his mouth; you delude yourself into thinking that his bottom lip is trembling. forming around familiar vowels.
he’s saying your name.
there must be something wrong with you, you belatedly realize. the last one to do so. because you’re hurt, scared, but you still feel a skip of your heartbeat. 
(he finally said it.)
you muster all the strength at your disposal, eyelids fluttering. and you try to answer, you do, reaching for that thread between your brain and your tongue — but it comes out as a garbled little thing, more air than noise. 
it’s enough. the tense crease between his brows melts away, and he sighs.
”oh, thank the heavens.”
another sensation. he’s touching your hand, now, cold metal on warm skin, bringing it up to his lips; a shaky little exhale brushing against the knots of your knuckle. his lips are chapped. 
then he’s scooping you up, cradling you close, as close as metaphysically possible, as if willing to cut his stomach open to fit you inside. a firm grip, comforting, stable. desperate, a mother wolf carrying her cub to safety, by the skin of her teeth. his hair tickles your skin, but you don’t mind.
only when he brings you back to the castle does everything fall into place. he explains everything, as you sit in bed, still recovering. a sudden attack, from within the castle, a kidnapping. some enemies of the king, a scandal to do with you and your blood. something, something, something. you’ve grown used to not understanding why you keep getting hurt. and you’re too distracted by the sullen face of the knight in front of you to pay attention.
suguru wasn’t there to stop it — wasn’t there to save you, be your knight in dashing armor. the king had invited him to a game of chess, and you had been adamant in your refusal to join them.
so you don’t understand why he’s apologizing.
he’s smiling, but it’s weak, as flimsy as a piece of paper. his lying smile, tight-lipped, betrayed by the redness of his eyes, the puffy skin beneath them. dark crescents. he sits by your bedside and looks a little like he wants to curl into a ball. 
”i’m sorry.”
and ah, you think; there it is. guilt. always, always clinging to him, a ghost haunting him wherever he goes. it’s been there since the beginning, in the scar reaching for his shoulder, the nature of his never-fading smile. guilt, guilt, guilt. you wonder if he's ever gone without it. you wonder if knights begin to crumble when they stop feeling ashamed. 
he looks sad.
with a breathless inhale, you part your lips. you want to tell him that he has nothing to apologize for, that you’re fine now — that you could never be mad at him. not really, never truly, never at him. you want to tell him that he’s your favorite person, not just your favorite knight, that he’s allowed to make mistakes without demanding that he suffer for them. 
you want to tell him that it’s okay, really. seriously.
but all that leaves your lips is a meek little sniffle. as the shock of it all finally settles, sinking deep into your bones, the fear of being captured, the dull ache of your skull meeting the ground. you can’t tell him any of the things you want to, and you feel so awful — 
because suguru’s face falls. like you just thrust a knife into his sternum and twisted it. he looks like he could cry, too.
”i’m sorry,” his voice cracks, right down the middle. like a broken vase. ”i’m so sorry.” it’s not at all what you want to hear, but you can’t tell him that either. he’s bundling you up before you know it, dragging you into the comfort of his chest, one large palm on the back of your head; tugging you closer still. he smells of soap and oak wood and peach blossoms. ”it was scary, wasn’t it?”
and you nod. into his neck, wet tears brushing against his skin. not stable enough to act tough. you don’t think he is, either.
suguru exhales, shaky, clutching you like he could lose you if he lets go. lose himself. he knows you’re scared, but you let him soothe you. it means something, he thinks. it means something that you let him come so close, closer than anyone’s ever been. so he swallows the guilt until it’s no longer clogging up the back of his throat, if only so his voice can flow out through the gap, give you the comfort you need. just rubbing your back until you calm down, apologizing silently — over and over again. manic, like the tick-tock of a clock.
until your voice breaks him out of it.
”it’s not your fault.”
he stiffens. still holding you, feeling your heartbeat settle down, hearing your voice break out of your throat. it comes out as a weak croak, with just the slightest hint of disapproval.
he gulps.
”don’t worry about me, right now,” he hushes you. a silent plea. ”i’m not the one who’s injured.”
”suguru —” you sigh, almost a hiss. ”i hit my head. once. that’s all.” you wipe away the wetness of your cheeks, biting back a sniffle. ”… you’re acting like i’m fucking dying. cut it out.”
(for once, he’s relieved to hear that sharp edge of your voice. it means you’re feeling better.)
a weak inhale. ”… they kidnapped you. it must’ve been terrifying. please, just…” and a tired exhale. ”please just don’t strain yourself.”
”it wasn’t your fault.”
”your highne —”
”i’m serious.” you’re pulling away, suddenly, clasping onto his cheeks with your tearstained palms. squishing his face together. ”it wasn’t your fault. it was mine.”
he shakes his head, eager to protest, so you squish his cheeks with more force, and shake his head for him. like a misbehaving dog. ”nope. if you even think about apologizing, i’ll start crying again.”
he lets out a huff. frowning, sadly, a downcast pair of eyes.
”don’t pout. i’ll bite you.”
it’s slight, barely even there at all — but you think the corner of his mouth twitches upwards, just by a hair, exhaling through his nose with just the slightest hint of amusement.
he places his palm over yours. 
a moment passes, slow and steady, both of you catching your breaths. calming down, letting the fear of it all seep out of your aching bones. you hope the warmth of your skin against his soothes him as much as it soothes you. 
”… you know, your highness,” he murmurs, softly. meeting your puffy eyes with his tired pools of amber gold. ”there’s something i never told you.”
you blink. he continues.
”just the night before the king reached out to me… i had a dream.” he musters a weak, exhausted little smile. ”dreams… i don’t have them very often. and when i do, they’re nothing good. but this dream…” 
his eyes flutter shut. a curtain closing, a raven taking flight, the tick-tock of a heartbeat. you can’t look away. ”it stuck out to me.”
silence.
your voice comes out soft, like the bedsheets beneath you, the man before you. a tiny breath of a question. ”… what was it about?”
he smiles. smoothing a thumb over your knuckle, reverent, as if memorizing every ridge and dip.
”a fox.”
”it had…” his hand slips from the small of your back, reaching for your cheek, pinching it gently. ”a cheeky smile.”
your skin heats up, beneath his touch. and you blink, not saying a word, because there isn’t any need to. all the words you could ever want have already been painted out.
(well, maybe not quite all.)
”suguru.” you lean close, just a little, drinking him in. and he listens, as always, so you don’t bother beating around the bush. swallowing any embarrassment your tired mind can still feel. because your knight is right in front of you, eyes still red from crying, and you want him to be happy. “i think you’re my favorite person.”
he stills.
then he’s burning up. 
”wha — where did that come from?” he stammers, a strawberry hue to his ears, his neck, the tips of his fingers. enveloping him like a blanket of warmth.
you only shrug. ”you told me the truth. figured i should return the favour, for once.” a giddy, exhausted smile. “we’re both awful liars, huh?”
suguru opens his mouth. then he closes it, again, desperate to collect himself. you think he must be a little too exhausted to, and you wish you could say you felt bad. ”you… you can’t just —”
he squeezes his eyes shut. sighing. giving up, the gears of his mind grinding to a halt. your grin blooms wider.
”hehe.” you poke at his flushed cheek, and he cracks a single eye open. ”you’re blushing.”
he huffs, leaning away from your touch, and you find yourself enjoying the reversal of your usual roles. very much so. he tries to smile, tries to get one up on you, but he only blushes a deeper shade of red once your words reach his ears. 
so he settles for using cheap tricks.
”you’re hallucinating,” he scoffs, shoving your head into the fluffy pillows all around you. ever so gently, listening to your muffled giggles. trying to stifle his own joy. ”go back to sleep.”
”my blushy knight,” you coo, and he drags the blanket over your head. biting down on his lip to stop himself from joining your bubbly laughter, blushing more than ever. 
(the word knight sounds very pretty, when it’s falling from your lips.)
”i swear,” he exhales, heavy and exasperated, but you can hear the smile in his voice. ”just what am i to do with you?”
it’s fond. delicate, even in his bouts of teasing, the light instances of manhandling. and you’re happy, because he’s not apologizing anymore, and he’s happy because you aren’t crying anymore. give and take. there’s a rhythm to it, a point where everything else becomes background noise, whether it’s memories of a kidnapping or a decade-old guilt.
he stays with you all night, even after you’ve fallen asleep. just watching you, safeguarding you, checking your pulse every now and then. content to watch as your chest rises and falls, with the tender ticking of your heartbeat.
that night, you dream of a kind, kind wolf, and a painting yet to be finished. 
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before you lies a field of stars.
you’re seated on a blanket, with a pretty knight to your left, up on top of a grassy hill. daffodils bloom around you, sweet nectar hanging in the air, a field of sunflowers waving at you from below. dragonflies greet you with a scratchy song. 
everything is perfect. a midnight rendezvous, a picnic under the stars — suguru’s own idea. to celebrate the time that you’ve spent together.
(well, that part was your idea. but you’re sure he appreciates it, too.)
the basket next to you is filled with fruit and berries, marmalade and jam, bottles of herbal tea. suguru’s delicious sandwiches. you bite into one of them, humming happily, and he’s quick to brush the occasional crumb from the corner of your lip, ghosting over your skin with a smile.
there’s another basket, too, just in front of you, that you brought on your own. hiding a secret; one you're just about to unveil. 
you clear your throat to get his attention.
like clockwork, he’s looking at you. listening, when  you tell him to close his eyes, only giving you a questioning raise of his brow and an amused exhale. 
you’re quick to lean forward, uncovering the basket, revealing the secret you’ve hidden so well. suguru is still waiting, indulgent, patient. you feel a little hesitant, but still part your lips.
“… okay. you can open them, now.”
he does. instantly, two ravens taking flight, and the sight that awaits them is that of a painting; a painting of a wolf, in the middle of the woods, empty armors and wilted sunflowers all around it. dragonflies and dragonflies, a knight just out of view.
he stares, silently, and you do your best to hide your growing nervosity. even as he takes it into his lap, and your gaze falls to the blanket below you. ”it’s… not my best work, but —” his eyes stay glued onto the painting, as you stumble blindly for the right words to say. wringing your hands together, clutching at the fabric of your sleeves. ”i’d… like you to have it. i mean, unless you —”
”thank you.”
you raise your head.
suguru is gazing at the canvas with the softest pair of eyes you’ve ever seen. melting amber, crinkled at the edges, accompanied by a sweet grin. 
”i’ll treasure it,” he vows, meeting your eyes, voice dripping with warmth. hand on his heart, and you can’t even poke fun at it. ”always.”
his earnest acceptance is enough to fluster you, enough to make you feel as it your heart is about to collapse, but he continues to look at the painting with enough awe to fill an empty lake with water, and it makes you terribly shy. 
until his smile drops.
”uh, actually — i…”
now it’s your turn to stare, silently, as he fumbles with something in the basket at his feet. gentle, as he takes out glass jars and wrapped sandwiches. out comes a sheet of paper. 
then he’s clearing his throat. handing it to you, pointedly avoiding your gaze. ”i’m not an artist, so you know. i just…” he coughs, a little out of his element. “well. here.”
with delicate hands, you accept it, bringing it down to your lap. big, curious eyes taking it in.
it’s a sketch — made with coal, a little smudged, but awfully charming. pretty, delicate.
it’s a sketch of a fox.
wide-eyed, all you can do is stare. gaze flitting up to meet his own, his nervous expression, before falling back to the little canine. ”you — this…” back and forth, over and over again. ”for — ?” 
you point to yourself. 
suguru only chuckles. ”yes, it’s for you. who else?” he taps the pads of his fingers against the handle of the basket, watching you silently admire the mischievous fox. not saying anything; so he continues.
”like i said; i’m not an artist. you can always throw it away, if you’d —”
”i’m gonna frame it.”
”i'm gonna frame it,” you repeat, eyes shining with sincerity. a little manic. ”i’ll hang it on the wall of the castle hallway so everyone can see it. it’ll be there for centuries to come, passed down —”
”please don't —”
”d’you think a gold frame would fuck up the vibe? maybe a modest silver is best.” you turn to face him, ignoring his blatant embarrassment. ”oooh, hang on! father knows this guy who makes them with real minerals. i’ll just —”
”your highness,” the knight cuts you off, almost with a squeak. ”please. it’s just a dumb drawing. i just… wanted to give it to you. that’s all.”
a pause. you look into his eyes, flickering with hesitance, an earnest desire for your approval only. so you hum, albeit a little hesitant.
”… alright. if you say so. i’ll hang it in my room, then.”
he sighs; relieved. ”that’s better. really, you —”
”thank you.” you whisper, blinking away the wetness at your lash-line. staring at the sketch with a dreamy, dreamy smile. ”i love it.”
you grin, happily, practically beaming. suguru wants to keep it there, always, on those pretty lips; he wants to lay his life on the line to protect it. but something tells him that would just make it fall. 
finally, everything clicks into place. the air fills with the scent of herbal tea, fresh strawberries, acrylic paint and hushed whispers. your own ritual, repeated over and over, like a loving waltz. 
as always, it’s suguru who breaks the silence. shatters it with the tip of his tongue. 
”hey,” he calls, softly. “my lord.”
mouth full of bread, you simply look at him. chewing silently, attention piqued. swallowing with a gulp. he places his folded hands on his lap, exhaling a little breath. ”… i’ve been thinking.”
”uh oh.”
silently, he gives you one of those flat, unimpressed looks of his, and you quiet down with a grin and another mouthful of bread. he quirks a brow, exhaling amusedly, then shakes his head and continues.
”i retract my earlier statement.”
when you glance up again, he’s smiling. showing more teeth than usual, a little wider, a little wolfish. a little more himself. you want to paint it, keep it hidden away somewhere only you can see.
”if it was someone else — anyone else…” he trails off, tasting the words on his tongue. “i doubt i’d feel this way. i doubt i’d want to protect them as fervently.” his voice flows out like a river of gold, just a little scratchy. it always is, when it sounds this sincere. 
he meets your eyes, and everything falls into place. 
”you’ve become precious to me,” he admits. ”i can't remember what it felt like to not be yours.”
his tongue curls around a familiar set of syllables, and your name seeps from his lips like a prayer, a vow, a trickle of honey and wine. devotion sticks to his tongue, to the vowels, a heavy fondness — something devout. something you've only ever heard from the mouths of priests.
and then he’s smiling. 
”i think i’ll be your knight until the day i die,” he breathes, and deep down you know it’s a vow. “even if the king discards me of that title.”
silence. except for an increasingly loud mantra of tick-tocks, from the depths of your own chest, echoing in your ears. your knight is in front of you, and he’s yours, and he’s smiling like he loves you. like he always will.
”… suguru.”
he hums, eyes lidded, blinking slowly. serenely. he lets you cling to him, pull him close, practically dragging him into your lap.
”stay with me,” you plead, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. too desperate to feel embarrassed. ”forever. promise me.”
an exhale, right by your ear. it sounds so fond you could cry. 
“i promise,” he whispers, fingers intertwining with your own. a perfect puzzle piece, a functional clockwork. lifting your hand, bringing his glossy lips to your knuckle; where they belong. ”until death tears me away from you.”
”it won’t,” you deadpan, partly to distract him from the growing heat of your fingertips. mostly because it’s true. ”you won't let it.”
he smiles against your knuckle, breathing out an airy laugh. ”clever little thing…” his free hand goes to rest on your spine, as always, and you lean back to see him properly. knowing he’ll catch you if you fall.
“.. but yeah," he sighs. "i won’t.”
before you know it, you’re leaning back in. because his eyes are the warmest shade of brown you’ve ever seen, and his hair is just a little tousled, and he looks so kissable it aches.
his jaw trembles, a little, when you press your lips against the curve of it. his whole body seems to still, for a moment, and you pull back just to see if he’s blushing. he is. 
but he must have anticipated your teasing, because he’s tucking you under his chin before you can see it through. pressing you close. and he tuts, a click of his silver tongue, a touch of restraint. ”… you little tease,” comes a whisper. ”how am i supposed to hold back now?”
”don’t hold back, dummy,” you grin, muffled against the column of his throat. you just barely resist the urge to sink your teeth into the skin. ”you’re a bad actor, anyway. the worst.”
and he is. he’s been looking at your lips this whole time — he couldn’t be more obvious if he tried.
suguru laughs, breathy, overflowing with fondness. chest rumbling with the noise, blending together with the rhythmic thumping of his clockwork heart. ”okay,” comes a soft lull of his tongue. ”i won’t, then.”
a drowsy feeling overtakes you, just as you feel his lips meet the crown of your head. it’s not much, but it’s a start. and it’s tender, tender enough to get you choked up, to get you to close your eyes to stop any tears from forming. because one person in this kingdom understands you, and he tells you that he’ll never leave. and you think you can actually find it in you to believe him. 
one person’s clockwork heart never breaks for you, and maybe that’s enough to convince you to stop trying to push it there.
”you can sleep, if you’d like,” is whispered against your hair. soft, soothing, his palm on your spine. ”i’ve got you. always.”
(one person in this world can make you feel safe, with just four little words. and isn’t that something?)
so you doze off, on the shoulder of your very own knight. your favorite knight, always and forever, a sword at his hip that was forged to protect you. or so he’ll tell you, years from now, when he’s got you in his lap, when there isn’t any need for him to act anymore.
and you dream a perfect dream. a dream of a wolf, and a fox, and a garden of stars.
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obsessedduh · 2 months
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thinking about how Simon 'Ghost' Riley is an absolute brat tamer. you're misbehaving? his cock is already in your mouth. you roll your eyes at him? he will make sure your eyes are rolled back from pleasure. you're giving him attitude? you're against the wall with his cock deep inside of you. you're sitting on his lap while he's trying to focus on his important work and you keep distracting him with sweet kisses on his neck or just randomly switching positions which casually grind against his clothed cock, claiming that you're just 'trying to get comfy'? you're bent over his desk with his cock absolutely destroying your insides.
you just misbehave around Simon 'Ghost' Riley of any sort around just know you're gonna get punished hard.
*✧・゚: *✧・゚
wanna know more about me? —> here
masterlist —> here
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