#EVEN THOUGH he already knows exactly where you're hiding

[killerlookz]

Heartbeat | Joost Klein

description: Joost Klein x f! reader- In the months following reader and Joost's breakup, neither of you seem to be able to get rid of each other, not even when you've supposedly "moved on" to other people. (heavily inspired by the narrative in Heartbeat by Childish Gambino)

content: 18+ NSFW, cheating, toxic relationships, arguing, angst, some comfort?cigarettes, alcohol, questionable morals, just some mess mess messy stuff, semi-public "suggestive" behavior, fingering, unprotected PiV. This work contains RPF, and has been tagged as such do not click forward if that upsets you and do not share my work to other sites.

word count: 7634

An unlit cigarette hangs from your sticky, freshly glossed lips, your hands racing to tie the slippery satin ties of your dressing robe. A knock at the door draws you from where you stand in front of your bathroom to the front door. You flip over the locks before carefully turning the doorknob to open it.

A tiny smile forms on your lips as the door opens, revealing your boyfriend, staring down at you. Michael, a man nearly a decade your senior, eight and a half years older than you to be exact, a handsome business-type man who had moved to the Netherlands for work from the States, Boston specifically, though, he didn't have the accent. The pair of you had been casually dating for nearly four months now, though, you could sense that at any moment he'd ask to take things in a more serious direction.

You quickly remove the cigarette from your lips, balancing it between two fingers as you speak,

"Hi!" Your voice expressing greater enthusiasm than you were actually feeling, "You're early." You grit your teeth through the grin that spreads across your face, "I thought you weren't supposed to be coming for another hour."

"Good to see you too," He smiles back, but you can sense a hint of patronization in his words, "I figured, it was already getting kind of late, and I didn't see a problem with heading out a little early. I texted you anyways, but you never responded."

You nod, remembering that you had purposefully left your phone in the kitchen to rid yourself of any distractions while you were getting ready. While you suppose it was nice of him to let you know he'd becoming early, it would have been nicer if he asked first instead of just doing.

"Getting late," You force a fake chuckle, one that turns out more like a scoff, "The sun has barely set, who wants to go to the bar when it's still light outside?"

"Not everyone enjoys staying out until the crack of dawn." He raises his eyebrows, his voice serious in a way that makes you uneasy.

"It's Saturday!" You beam, "Come on, let loose a little." Michael wasn't exactly the party type- at least not now, it had taken a whole lot of convincing to even get him to go out with you and your friends tonight. "We're still going to have to wait anyways," you shrug, opening the door wider to allow him inside, "Julia won't be here for at least an hour, but you know her and being on time." You giggle awkwardly, unsure of what the two of you would do to fill the time while you finished getting ready.

"Right," He shakes his head before his brows furrow, "What's all over your face?"

Your facial expression contorts, confused, "Uh- makeup?"

"Oh pumpkin," He sighs, his voice like saccharin, exceptionally sweet and unimaginably fake. The pet name makes your stomach curdle, and you attempt to press a smile to your lips to hide the way you cringe, "I thought we talked about how I prefer to see you naturally."

You giggle, stunned at the fact he was bringing up this argument again, one you had had far too many times for how short of a while you had been seeing each other, "And I thought we talked about how much I hate it when you call me pumpkin."

"I just don't think you look any better with all that shit on your face, is it wrong of me to think that my girlfriend is beautiful?" There's an argumentative tone in the way he speaks, but you can't even focus on the potential fight that is brewing, not when the word girlfriend is ringing in your ears.

"No," You sigh, not wanting to argue not now, all the energy being knocked out of you with that simple word, "Do you want something to drink while I finish getting ready?"

"Yeah," He lets out a breath, slightly annoyed, "Yeah- sure what do you have?" He lets his tone return back to normal.

"Depends," You step backward, away from the man, towards the small kitchen of your apartment "Do you want something alcoholic or..." You trail off, stepping all the way into the kitchen.

Michael's eyes linger on you as he scratches at the back of his neck, "That's fine." He shakes his head, "Just get me a beer or something."

You nod, opening up the fridge, scowering around, unsure if you even had a beer in there. After pushing some things around, you'd found a singular bottle, you push your arm further into the cold to grab it.

You retreat back to the warmth of the rest of your kitchen, beer bottle in hand, as you kick it closed, both hands now preoccupied as the unlit cigarette still rests between your fingers. Wordlessly, you place the bottle on the kitchen counter in front of where Michael is now sitting before stepping back to search for a bottle opener.

From the corner of your eye you can see your phone light up, resting right where you had left it on the counter before you had begun to get ready. Thinking perhaps Julia was letting you know she was on her way or even worse that she was here now, you quickly shuffle over to it

Upon looking down at the screen you quickly realize it is not Julia who had texted you or any of your other friends who you had intended on seeing tonight.

Joost: It's been a while, what are you doing tonight? Come over?

The simple messages nearly make you choke on your breath as your eyes quickly flick up toward Michael. Joost was just about Michael's complete opposite- he was something exciting, the type of person where you could never guess their next move, no routine, no planning, no nothing- just go go go. Perhaps that discrepancy could be attributed to the fact that, unlike Michael, Joost had only been older than you by a year, his 24th birthday approaching in the fall. Still, even at Joost's age, you couldn't imagine Michael being much fun.

Unfortunately for you, you had let yourself indulge in the excitement that Joost brought to your life in entirely self-destructive ways. Joost had been one of the first people you had met when you moved to the Netherlands, and things moved quick between the two of you, from the moment you met it had felt like you had known him your whole life. Within a few months of living in a brand new country, you had already found yourself with a boyfriend, having rushed way too quickly into a relationship with Joost, and you quickly learned that no matter how much it had felt like you two had known each other your whole lives, the truth was you didn't really know him.

It was a true whirlwind romance, taking your life by storm, every moment consumed by each other. You both had fallen hard and fast. But for as hard as you had fallen, you crashed much harder. Joost was a perfect boyfriend in every area except for the ones that really mattered. It was obvious how completely in love with you he was, he was soft, and romantic, and fucked you in ways that made you feel things you didn't even know were possible.

But for all of his good, for all of his sweet gestures and affection, he couldn't seem to crack the communication thing. At first, you didn't mind when he skirted around the little issues that arose between the two of you, you knew he had things rough growing up and so you gave him grace, figuring opening up to people and dealing with certain emotions was probably difficult for him. But soon enough the "little issues" were not so little, turning into large, glaring problems in your relationship that no matter how hard you had pleaded for him to, Joost would refuse to discuss. Eventually, it had gotten too much, the two of you constantly at each other's throats, and with Joost icing you out whenever things got rough, you had had enough.

Still, you don't get rid of feelings like that so easily, and for the life of you, you could just not stay away from Joost. As hard as you tried to, you had never actually stopped seeing him despite the fact how much things had changed, things weren't quite so sweet and romantic anymore, but to be honest with yourself, if he fucked you good while the two of you were in love, he fucks you 10 times better when you hate each other's guts.

But maybe hate is too strong of a word, oddly enough feeling bad for Joost when you decide you're not going to respond to his text. At some point in the week, you had made the decision that with how imminent a serious relationship with Michael felt, it was probably high time for you to stop hooking up with your ex-boyfriend. It wasn't exactly a decision you were planning on alerting said ex-boyfriend of, no- that made it real, if you were to tell him you never wanted to see him again, it would become real, you were never going to see him again. Ghosting him seemed like the better option, simply leaving things open-ended, it at least allowed for you to change your mind- which you were deadset on not doing.

Michael's voice takes you out of your thoughts, quickly swiping away the message and turning your phone over.

"Hmm?" You hum, looking up, fluttering your eyelashes innocently.

"A bottle opener?" He points to the cap of the drink you had set down in front of him. You throw a smile onto your face, nodding incessantly,

"Right!" You search through a drawer for a bottle opener before pushing it across the counter towards Michael. You continue to ruffle through the crowded junk drawer, looking for a lighter with no such luck. Feeling far too lazy to go rifle through your purse to find one, with the cigarette still in hand you walk over to the stove, turning the burner to its lowest setting, just enough for a small flame to erupt. Carefully, pinching the cigarette by its very end, you quickly stick it in the small flame, allowing it to light.

You shut the burner off, placing the cigarette to your lips, inhaling, allowing your lungs to fill with the warm, prickly smoke.

"Do you really need to do that in here?" Michael asks, his face forming into a scowl, "Or at all."

You turn to the side to exhale, careful not to blow the smoke in Michael's direction no matter how bad you want to.

"Relax," You smile, "The windows are open."

"Are you even allowed to smoke in here?"

"What are you, my landlord?" You furrow your eyebrows, taking another drag, "One cigarette won't get me kicked out."

"Can't say I'm enjoying your little miss attitude act tonight."

You're not in the mood to argue, simply sighing and forcing an apologetic look on your face, though you had felt like there was nothing to apologize for.

"Sorry," You mumble, "Let me just go finish getting ready."

The area that surrounds you is noisy, alive with all that the city's nightlife has to offer, almost overwhelmingly so. You lean against a wall, observing the swarm of people that inhabit the bar.

"You know," Your friend, Julia, pipes up from beside you, "You really shouldn't let him talk to you like that."

You bite at the insides of your cheeks, replaying the conversation shared between you and Michael just before entering the bar.

Stepping out of the car, your skirt had gotten pulled up quite a bit from having been sitting, your underwear almost on display as you climbed out of the backseat.

"Jesus," Michael scolded as he followed you out of the car, "Who are you showing off for?"

"Huh?" You whipped your head around, trying to ascertain if you had actually heard him right.

Michael leans over, his voice rough as he speaks into your ear,

"Pull your fucking skirt down, you look like you should be standing in the windows in De Wallen."

You clench your jaw, eyes flicking to Julia who was walking around the other side of the car, she shakes her head disapprovingly.

"What's so wrong with that? I'm sure the women in De Wallen are lovely ladies."

"I don't care how lovely they might be, I don't want my girlfriend walking around looking like a hooker."

You sigh, you know Julia is right, Michael was out of line, as he usually was. You stare the man down from where he stands by the bar, looking to squeeze in amongst the crowd that surrounds it in to order some drinks. Your face involuntarily twists into a grimace as you watch him pathetically try and fail to get the attention of the bartender. You want to go home.

"I just don't know why you keep him around." She shrugs, "I mean, I know he's got money and all, but I don't think it makes up for the fact that he has got to be the most stuck-up, grumpy man I have ever met in my life- seriously he's thirty, not seventy-five."

"I don't know," You furrow your eyebrows, "I guess he's stable and stuff- or whatever, you know?"

"Michael? Stable? The man that not thirty minutes ago all but called you a prostitute because your skirt got pulled up."

"I mean stable like he has a good job and stuff, he's normal, regimented, life with him has a routine- I think I need that, maybe he'll mellow me out, I don't know."

"Don't be ridiculous, you're far too young to be mellowed out," Julia pouts, "I mean, really, the party is just getting started for you." Julia's eyes suddenly widen, her lips parting as she speaks cautiously, "Speaking of party..."

"What?" Your eyes widen too, confused, you quickly whip your head around to look in the direction she's staring off in, "Shit." You mutter as your eyes meet the door, and there he is, Joost fucking Klein followed by a group of what looked to be about 5 of his friends. You barely manage to inhale, "I need a fucking cigarette."

Without looking back at Julia, you're making your way to the door, praying that neither Joost nor his friends see you on the way out.

The summer air hits you as you step through the exit onto the bustling city street. You wondered how mad everyone would be at you if you decided to leave right now- bail without a word, run home, and spend the night alone.

You grab at the purse that sits over your shoulder, pulling it down your arm so you can rummage through it, looking for your cigarettes and a lighter.

You flip open the cardboard box, removing a single cigarette, putting it between your lips before reaching back into your purse to fetch your lighter.

You flick the jagged metal of the lighter, the grooves digging into your thumb as you light the end of your cigarette. You toss the lighter back into your purse before slinging the bag back over your shoulder.

You're able to get a few drags in before you're interrupted by a voice, one that immediately makes your stomach sink.

"Ignoring me now, are we?" You don't even have to look, you already know- you'd recognize that voice anywhere, it's Joost.

You whip your head to the side, confirming your suspicions, seeing the slender frame of your ex-boyfriend hanging just outside the entrance of the bar.

"Stalking me now, are we?" You respond, hoping the snark in your voice masks everything else you are feeling.

"I'd hardly call showing up to the same bar stalking," He smirks, walking toward you, "But I mean- if you're into that sort of thing we can pretend I was."

You roll your eyes, taking a long drag of your cigarette, hoping for some sort of head rush from the nicotine.

Joost's features come better into focus as he nears closer to you, messy blonde hair spilling over his forehead, falling into his eyes, a piercing blue as he stares into you, a smirk lingering on his soft pink lips.

"Can I get a smoke?" He asks, innocently enough. You want to say no, so desperately you want to tell him to go away, to leave you alone, that you need to start a life without him.

"Oh-yeah, sure." A sheepish smile crosses your face, your words betraying you, unable to force out any sort of rejection towards him.

You let your already lit cigarette rest between your lips, taking your purse off your shoulders again, grabbing the cigarettes and lighter once more. You shove your hand, presenting the objects to Joost for him to take, his fingers carefully grazing the back of your hand as he does, his touch lingering on you for just a little too long as the two of you stare each other down. Shivers run down your spine, and your chest suddenly becomes tight, he was completely gorgeous- damn him.

"You okay?" He raises an eyebrow, a chuckle falling from his lips, he's not really asking sincerely. You can only hum in response, not wanting to say too much. Things were not usually this awkward between the two of you, and you could feel that you were the one causing it.

You watch intently as Joost lights his cigarette before pushing the pack into his pocket, and you make a mental note to yourself to get them back from him before you go back inside.

"So," He starts, exhaling a plume of grey smoke, "My place or yours tonight?"

"I'm going to my place, and you are going to yours." You respond, forcefully, annoyed at his insinuation that you would be sleeping with him tonight.

"Is that so?" He responds challengingly, his eyes lighting up.

"Yes." You nod, having none of his banter, "And-" You cut yourself off, debating if you even want to say what is about to come out of your mouth next. "I think we should stop this. Us, we need to stop."

"I've heard that one before," Joost chuckles.

"I'm being serious." You let your head fall to the side, "I can't keep seeing you."

Joost's face suddenly drops, understanding the weight of your words,

"What changed?" He scoffs, bewildered at your spontaneous proclamation, "Because if I recall correctly, just last week you were begging for me to come over."

"It's not fair to Michael," You shake your head, "I need to move on, we need to move on."

A grimace forms on Joost's face,

"You want to pull the good girlfriend act now?" His eyes widen, "As if cutting things off now will erase the past-what-four months?"

"I don't want to argue with you about this, Joost," You bite your lip, realizing just how unprepared you really were to cut things off with him, "I know I can't erase what happened, but I'd at least like to try to be better." Your lip quivers, and you clench your jaw, eyes fluttering as you fight back tears. You don't want to give him the chance to reply, you know with the right words he'd be able to talk you right back into bed with him, you can't let that happen.

You let your cigarette fall from your fingers, crushing it into the ground with the heel of your shoe.

"I'm sorry," You mutter, refusing to make eye contact with Joost as you brush past him, rushing back inside.

It was a miracle you had stayed out this late with everything that had occurred tonight, but there you were, still standing at the bar as the clock neared midnight, a feigned half-drunk smile pressed to your lips as you stared at Michael.

You tried to ignore the way Joost's eyes burned into you from across the room, but no matter what you did you could feel he was there, ever-present.

"What do you say to another round?" Julia smirks, leaning over the bar.

"Fine by me." You grin, anything to make tonight more bearable.

"Nuh-uh," Michael shakes his head, "You're cut off." He points directly at you, his finger almost in your face.

"What?" You laugh, caught off guard by his sudden controlling-ness

"You, you're cut off, you've had too much."

You furrow your eyebrows, you're not completely coherent, but you're absolutely nowhere near blackout.

"I had four drinks," You continue to giggle awkwardly, "Are you joking?"

His face stays stiff, he's serious.

"I don't think that's really your call to make." A smile lingers on your face as you attempt to keep the conversation light-hearted, but you can feel some sort of anger bubbling inside you.

"It is when I'm the one who's going to have to take care of you."

"It's one more drink, I think I'll be okay."

"Sure, one drink, which turns into two, and then three... you don't know how to control yourself, which is why I'm cutting you off." His voice begins to rise, and your eyes dart around the room anxiously, you hope the noise of the bar can drown out the argument that is brewing.

"I don't know how to control myself?" You scoff, "Is that really what you think of me?"

"You haven't exactly proven me any different, I've seen you, I know how you get on nights out, God forbid I don't want to have to deal with you sloppy and belligerent for the rest of the night." His words become harsher sounding, and more pointed as he continues to speak.

"What do you mean 'how I get'? I barely go out anymore because you don't like it, I would just like to let loose a little for once." You begin to match his tone, unable to hide your growing frustration.

"And you should thank me for that," His eyes narrow, "You don't need to be running around partying every weekend, acting like a complete fucking mess."

You clench your jaw, face forming a scowl, you can't believe the words leaving Michael's mouth right now,

"Don't curse at me." You mutter.

"No, I'll say whatever the fuck I want to, and maybe you should show me some respect for once, and listen."

"Oh!" You respond, a little too loud, drawing a few glances from the people who surround you, "You want to talk about respect? That's rich coming from the man who doesn't seem to respect any of my personal decisions, not the way I do my makeup, or how I dress, or when I want to go out, last time I checked, constantly berating your girlfriend isn't exactly respectful."

"Get a grip, y/n," He rolls his eyes, "Yeah, no shit I don't want my girlfriend parading herself around like some sort of fucking tramp."

It takes everything in you to not escalate things further, to not tell him what you had been doing behind his back, if he thought you were a tramp, oh you could show him tramp.

You inhale deeply, deciding to cut the conversation short before you say something you'll regret,

"I don't need this." You exhale, turn around, and head for the door.

The air is cooler than before when you step outside, now that it is later into the night. Immediately you're pulling your purse down your arm, desperately sifting around for your cigarettes, needing something anything to calm you down. Your mind races as your hand combs through your bag, unable to think straight, your mind foggy from all the arguing and the alcohol.

"Fuck," You mutter, Joost, he had your cigarettes. You run a hand through your hair, pulling at the strands, tonight had been a complete disaster.

"Looking for something." A teasing voice calls, resulting in a groan from you, it was like Joost had a sixth sense for when you thought about him, always showing up as soon as he crossed your mind.

"Can you just give them to me?" Exasperation heavy in your voice, wanting nothing more than to just have a smoke, and go home.

"What happened in there?" He asks, entirely ignoring your question.

"It's nothing," You shake your head, "Can I just have my cigarettes back so I can leave."

"Didn't look like nothing." He continues.

"Well, it was," You snap, your voice getting a little too loud for your own comfort, "I'm fine. Please, Joost just give me th-"

"You don't need to lie," He cuts you off, "You know you can tell me."

"It just," You pause, lifting your head to look Joost in the eyes, "It just doesn't concern you."

"But it concerns you," His voice suddenly much softer, "So I want to know."

A small smile tugs at your lips, despite everything you were feeling, your heart is slightly warmed at Joost's interest in what had happened.

"Stupid argument," You shake your head, looking back down at the ground, "That's all."

"Seems like every time you tell me about Michael it's about an argument you guys have had."

"Well, gloating about how great of a boyfriend I have doesn't exactly make for good conversation when I'm with the person I'm cheating on him with."

"Well, do you? Have a great boyfriend?" He pushes, but the two of you both know the answer. You bite the inside of your cheeks, bringing your gaze back up to Joost, who seems to be standing much closer to you now.

Your breathing starts to tremble under his intense gaze, the smell of his cologne is suddenly strong in your nose, nearly choking you. He's expecting an answer. But you can't give him one, you can't tell Joost that you didn't have a great boyfriend mere hours after telling Joost you didn't want to see him anymore because of said not-great boyfriend.

"Look," He sighs, "I know I wasn't the best, so maybe I can't talk, but Michael is just a straight-up dick."

His bluntness earns a small chuckle from you, he wasn't wrong.

"Well, I haven't exactly been the world's best girlfriend either." You shrug, any problem with Michael seemed incomparable to the fact that at the end of the day, you were the one cheating.

"You were to me." His tone contained a romance that you hadn't heard from him in a long time.

"Joost-" You choke, your eyes widening, unsure of where he was heading with this now. How were you ever going to get over him when he constantly crossed all the wires in your brain.

You feel your body go numb as he slides his hand to your waist, you should stop him, keep your promise, and never see him again- but you can't, and most importantly, you don't want to.

"Look, I'm not insinuating anything, if you don't want to see me anymore, that's okay, you don't owe me anything not after what you put up with, with me, but what I am saying, is you do owe it to yourself, to find someone who treats you better." His words are genuine, heartfelt, and he almost feels like the Joost you once knew, the Joost from when you two had first met.

There's nothing you can say in response, instead, you push yourself up on your toes, letting your lips meet Joost's in a soft kiss. Joost wastes no time in kissing you back, his hand now gripping your waist. Something feels different with this kiss, no looming sense of guilt hovering over you, it feels right like it's what you should be doing.

You part your lips, deepening the kiss, a small groan escaping you as you feel Joost's tongue brush past yours. Your movements become sloppy, lips lazily working against each other, each kiss filled with increasingly more passion.

Stunned, Joost pulls back from the kiss, a smile on his lips, now shiny from your lipgloss, "So," He breathes, "My place or yours?" It was exactly as you had thought, so easily, Joost was able to talk you back into bed with him.

"Mines closer." You shrug, your voice suddenly timid as you reach a thumb to Joost's lips, rubbing the traces of your lipliner off of them.

The car ride home feels like years, as the vehicle crawls down the city streets you figure you have probably gotten the slowest Uber driver in the entirety of Europe.

You sit in the middle seat, your arm brushing against Joost's, the proximity is comforting, but not quite enough, you want nothing more than to be all over him.

You trail a finger to the buckle of Joost's belt, lazily tracing over the letters engraved into the metal, Albino. The sudden remembrance of Joost's proximity to fame, even if only in the Netherlands, draws a smirk on your face as you think about all the horny fangirls who would probably die to be in your position now.

"What are you doing?" Joost asks, his words slow, teasing.

"Nothing," Feigned innocence in your voice as you let your palm rest just below the buckle of his belt. Joost clenches his jaw as you let your hand trail a little lower, pressing into the fabric of his jeans, his already-defined cheekbones poking out even farther with the way his muscles strain.

"You're going to kill me, you know that?" Joost's eyebrows raise, a smile pressed to his lips. He reaches a hand behind your head, first gripping at your hair before relaxing his fingers, soothingly scratching at the back of your head.

A hum of content vibrates through your lips, satisfied at what amount of power you had over him, even if it wasn't much.

You continue to press the heel of your palm against Joost's jeans, feeling the way they tighten as he begins to stiffen beneath you. Joost sucks in a breath, his free hand moving to rest on top of yours, he grips your fingers, pulling you off of him.

"You didn't like that?" You pout.

"Does it look like I didn't like it?" He grits his teeth. Your eyes wander down his figure, focusing on his lap, a now more prominent bulge in his jeans.

The car suddenly comes to a halt, forcing your gaze to the window- you were home, and now you're scrambling out of the car, unable to wait any longer to get your hands on Joost.

Joost pops his head back in the car for just a moment more,

"Dankje, fijne avond!" (Thanks, goodnight) He says quickly to the driver as you pull at his arm from outside the car, impatient. "God, woman," He chuckles, shutting the car door behind him, "I'm here!"

The climb up the three stories to get to your apartment is intermittent with sloppy kisses and lingering touches. As much as you desire to get to the privacy of your apartment, you can't keep yourself off of Joost, your hips pressed into his he has you pushed against a wall surrounding the staircase, his lips trailing down your neck, surely leaving little marks you wouldn't be able to explain away.

You card your hands through his hair, gripping at the messy blonde strands,

"Joost, please," A strained whisper crawls up your throat, your hips sputtering forward, begging for some friction, "My apartment."

Joost drops his hand from where it sits against your waist, grabbing your hand, and pulling you the rest of the way up the steps.

Anxious hands fumble with your keys as you try to push them into the lock of your door, a breath of relief as you hear the satisfying click of the correct key slotting perfectly into the small space.

Before you know it, you're pushed up against the back of the door, Joost's hands pinned on either side of you, caging you in with his body. Your own hands wander Joost's body, pulling at his shirt, gripping tightly to pull him closer as your lips collide. The way you kiss is rough, animalistic like you're completely starved for him.

Joost shoves a thigh between your legs, the rough denim of his jeans now brushing against the crotch of your panties. You can't help yourself, bucking your hips forward to push yourself further against his thigh. A small sigh leaves your lips as your cunt brushes against him, suddenly feeling your arousal, your movements made slippery.

Joost's hands make their way to your hips, his touch lingering as they slide to your thighs, grabbing at the hem of your skirt, and pulling it up. He drops his leg from where it's positioned between your thighs, his large, tattooed hand now cupping your heat. He presses the heel of his palm into your crotch, rubbing harshly through the flimsy fabric of your panties. His movements send jolts of electricity through your body, only making you crave him more as your arousal pools.

His fingertips push at your slit over what little clothes separate the two of you, teasing what you really want.

"Liefje," He smirks, pulling away from the kiss, "So wet for me I can feel it through your panties."

Your face grows hot, slightly ashamed at how quick you had become so aroused. Joost's fingers find themselves brushing at the seams of your underwear, hooking into the fabric ever-so-slightly. Your body grows tense as he teases you, his position making it seem like he's about to pull the delicate lace to the side, but he doesn't, his fingers, unmoving as he kisses at your jaw.

You can't take it, feeling so pent up that you might just explode, you knock Joost's hand from where it sits between your legs, pulling the crotch of your panties to the side yourself before pushing your fingers to your clit. You rub small circles to the delicate nerves, gasps leaving your mouth as pleasure rushes through you. You let your fingers dip lower, collecting your arousal on your fingers as they glide through your folds, towards your aching entrance.

Joost finally clocks what you're doing, his lips leaving your jaw, his hand reaching down to cover yours.

"So impatient," He purrs, his breath hot against your neck, reminding you of your proximity, "Here, let me help you."

With his own hand, Joost guides your fingers up and down your soaked pussy, before completely taking the work over himself, your hand now resting at your side as he continues.

With a single finger, he teases your hole, rubbing around it, threatening to dip his fingers in, you shove your hips forward, silently begging for it. He gets the memo, as much as he loves to feel you squirm below him, he loves pleasuring you so much more.

Before long he's pushing a second finger into you, a groan leaving your lips at the way you stretch around him. His thumb taps at your clit, sending extra pangs of pleasure through your body. You can do nothing but lean your head against the door behind you, lips parted with your jaw slack, in complete awe of how good Joost could make you feel with simply just his fingers. He knew his way around your body even better than you knew yourself, able to draw you to an orgasm much quicker than when you went solo. He knew just where to press, just where to rub to make you whine, and stutter filthy curses.

"What was that about never wanting to see me again?" He coos into your ear, and you pick up an almost wickedness in his voice.

"Fuck you," You sputter, voice strained from the magic his fingers are working against your cunt.

"Yeah," Joost sighs, "I'd bet you'd like to."

He's right, absolutely, completely right, and you're melting below him, turning to mush under his touch.

"Lucky for you, I'd love to fuck you too," He removes his fingers from your cunt, "And I don't think I can wait much longer."

Your pussy is left throbbing, feeling your heavy pulse between your thighs as you clench around nothing, aching from the lack of stimulation. Joost presses two fingers to his lips, shiny from your slick, enveloping them with his mouth, moaning slightly at the taste of you on his tongue.

"So good," He mumbles as he pops his fingers from his mouth, "Now, c'mon." He's grabbing you by your wrist, pulling you to your bedroom.

You nearly stumble onto your bed, leaning face first on the edge of the mattress while your feet still rest on the ground below you, ass up.

Joost stands behind you, his hips pressed into your ass. You whine as his stiff cock brushes against your exposed cunt through the thick denim of his jeans. You can feel the cool metal of his belt buckle press into you as he leans forward, hands trailing up your torso as he kisses your shoulder blades.

You arch your back farther, looking for some friction, desperately trying to grind your cunt against him. Joost's hands linger on your body as he lets you search for some relief, helping you just a little by bucking his hips ever so slightly. He gropes at your tits, hands crawling into your shirt to get a better feel. He pinches the pebbled surface of your hardened nipples, making you squeal, his breath tickles your neck as he chuckles at your reaction.

Soon enough he removes his hands from you, and his hips no longer press into your thighs. You're impatient as you hear the clinging of his belt buckle. your pussy instinctively clenching as the sound meets your ears like you've been trained to know what's next. You hear a small sigh leave Joost's mouth followed by what sounds like him pulling his pants down, the belt once again clinging as it hits the floor. You peek behind you, biting your lip as you marvel at the sight before your eyes, Joost, naked from the waist down, his cock hard, tip throbbing an angry shade of red. He's gripping the bottom of his shirt, exposing the trail of blonde hair that leads to his pubic area. His shirt comes all the way off, leaving him entirely undressed behind you.

"See something you like, hm?" He asks, teasingly, noticing the way you stare at him, bottom lip tucked between your teeth.

You can't even respond, not as he walks closer to you, your brain dizzy with the knowledge of what is about to come next. You return your gaze forward as Joost's hands find their way to your hips, fingertips gripping your flesh. You gasp as you feel the tip of his cock brush against your folds. You have to fight the urge to instinctively push back against him.

Joost continues to grind the shaft of his cock against your cunt, collecting your slick around its length. He pulls back a little, letting the head tease your entrance, about to push in before he stops himself,

"Wait." He breathes, "Turn around."

Slowly, you flip over, back pressed into the mattress while your legs still dangle off the sides. Joost nods, content as he steps between your legs.

"Take your shirt off, let me see those pretty tits." You obey, pulling the top over your head, suddenly very exposed as you had decided to forego a bra tonight. Goosebumps litter your skin as Joost slowly lowers onto his knees, he's quick about his movements, not taking time to linger or tease as he pulls both your skirt and your panties down the length of your legs. You raise your back to help him a little, lowering back onto the mattress once you feel the fabric hit your ankles. You kick off the heels you had been wearing, the pooled fabric following, now leaving you entirely exposed under Joost's lustful gaze.

He stands back up, gripping the backs of your thighs as he does so, guiding your legs up. You wrap your legs around his thighs, and Joost moves closer, his arms pinned on either side of you as his body hovers over your own. The new position allows you to move your legs to be wrapped around his hips, digging your ankles into his back to push him closer to you.

He presses a rough kiss to your jaw, an indicator of how hungry he was for you now.

"Ready for me," He mumbles into your skin.

"Mhm," You hum, "Please."

You can feel him smirk as his lips linger on your skin,

"So polite, anything for you, liefje," He coos, removing one hand from the side of you, balancing the entirety of his upper body weight on one forearm now.

He grips the base of his cock with his now free hand, messily guiding the tip through your folds before lining up with your entrance. He waits a moment before finally pushing into you, he's slow, careful. The two of you share a gasp as he slips inside of you, the way you stretch around him is familiar, but it never gets any less mind-numbing no matter how many times you find yourself in this situation.

Your fingers grip into his bicep as he slowly pushes into you at a painfully slow pace. A strangled groan leaves your mouth as he finally bottoms out. You relinquish some of your grip on his arm, fingers loosening as he begins to build up a steady pace, thrusting inside of you.

You let your head tip, and back arch, completely relaxing your body, allowing yourself to be entirely consumed by the pleasure Joost brought you.

Neither of you speak for a while, the loud moans that escape both of you were doing more than enough talking. For a split moment you feel bad for the neighbors, and you hope they aren't awake to hear you through the thin apartment walls. But, your thoughts are swiftly taken away from your acute guilt as you feel Joost slam into you, harder than before. Your eyes shut tight, a pathetic whimper crawling from your throat as the tip of his cock hits deep inside you.

"Joost," You gasp as his thrusts become more pointed, the bed rocking beneath you.

"Feels good, right?" His voice is rich with cockiness, "No one fucks you as good as I do?"

"No," You exhale, "No one," Your vision begins to blur, as pleasure completely overtakes you.

"That's right," He groans, "No one knows your body like I do."

He's right, and you're sure no one will ever know you in the way he does,

"Fuck," You swallow, "We're never going to be able to stop this, are we?" Your heartbeat increases as you come to the realization of how badly the two of you need each other- no matter how much it disturbs the other facets of your life.

"No," His fingertips dig into the naked flesh of your hips, "We were made for each other." The way he speaks is barely romantic, his low growl rather implying that the two of you were doomed to forever be intertwined in this unfortunate circumstance, the far of you far too flawed to be with anyone but each other.

You can feel your body tensing up, a pressure burning in your abdomen, threatening to explode at any moment. You screw your eyes shut, your face twisting up, all of the emotion of the night smacking into you as your orgasm approaches.

"So close," You wince the hot coil in your lower stomach about to crack.

"Want to feel you make a mess on me," Joost begs from behind a clenched jaw, "Come on," He urges.

It takes a few more thrusts for your orgasm to overtake you, but as it does, it's strong. What could just be about considered a scream passing through your throat as your legs start to shake, your body tingling.

"Love you," You slur, your brain too fuzzy to even be cognisant of the words as they leave your mouth, your subconscious speaking for you.

"Yeah?" Joost asks, his thrusts becoming sporadic, losing pace, "Say it again, tell me how much you love me, schatje."

"I love you," You whine, your entire body twitching as you lose all control over your reflexes, your climax now in charge, "Love you, love you so much." Your words become slower, jaw slacking as your orgasm rolls over you, reaching its final stages, your cunt spasming around Joost.

"I know," He sighs, his lips returning to your jaw. He's able to slip in and out of you much faster now, his cock covered in your release, his thrusts forcing strangled cries from you, "I know," He repeats, "Fucking love you too,"

His hips stutter, and a string of curses are grunted into your neck as Joost's own orgasm approaches.

You inhale sharply as you feel him begin to finish inside you, his cock twitching in your poor overstimulated cunt as the warmth of his release fills you. It's messy, the way he continues to thrust with as much force as he can muster as he rides out his high, cum spilling onto your inner thighs which each thrust, lewd wet sounds filling the air.

Soon enough Joost is collapsed on top of you, his breathing heavy as he tries to collect himself. Your legs drop from hs waist, your entire body lazy.

A certain sense of guilt creeps into you as you realize Michael is right, you have no self-control, unable to give up the feeling that Joost gives you for anything else in the world. You'll forever be chasing the high he gives you, because Joost was right too, you were made for each other.

[moodymisty]

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's Note: Inspired by this conversation. I'll be making one that takes place while Reader is alive as well, but the one where you aren't just got finished first. Enjoy.

Warnings: Sanguinius/Fem!Reader, Major character pseudo-death(Reader), Worship, i don't know consider this a sort of writing practice type thing for me

Guilliman finds himself having to hold the vile taste in his throat down, as he looks upon the scene in front of him.

...He remembers you.

He remembers the friendly smiles you gave him, and he remembers the smiles you would reserve just for Sanguinius. He always wondered what Sanguinius found worthwhile in being with you; In managing his legion, the expectations put on him by the entire galaxy, The demands of the Emperor, and a relationship with you. But then he would spot the way Sanguinius would look at you, like you were everything he had ever hoped for, and Guilliman would feel a twinge of something. He never quite figured out what it was.

And now you're here. Dead.

At least Guilliman would've wished as such, but instead you lay in an eternal state of unrest much like he was, not too long ago.

Sanguinius had once voiced to him that he was worried his sons would idolize you much like they did him. They were already beginning to towards the start of the Heresy; You'd become less of a person and more of a ideal, an extension of Sanguinius' own supposed anglicism. Sanguinius had found it distressing. He didn't want them to blindly follow something because of a holiness put on them. Sanguinius could handle that sort of thing, persuade those thoughts away and order them to stop, but you couldn't. You weren't meant to.

Guilliman had appreciated him confiding in him at the time, but hadn't offered much to soothe his worries. Perhaps that had been a mistake. He remembers exactly where they were, how the sky had looked. And each time he remembers it, he wants to yell at his past self to say something; To spurn some sort of action and prevent this.

"She still looks the same,"

The primarch mumbles, remembering your face in the last snapshot of his mind. Your skin had been pallor, you were falling ill, but you still soldiered on. You had to. While you had given most logistical and battlefield duties to Chapter Master Raldoron after Sanguinus' death, you still held significant sway in the chapters rituals and other types of decision-making. They wouldn't allow you to divert those duties, the anglicism they had put on you had begun to grow and grow even back then, wearing down on you like a disease.

Sanguinius' genesons had nothing less than the utmost respect for you, which Guilliman had watched morph into the thing that Sanguinius had feared the most. It wasn't his place to step in, so he never did.

The glass coffin which holds you does nothing to hide a single thing, displaying you and the delicate lace gown you lay in. It was the dress you'd worn when you married Sanguinius, and Guilliman doesn't know how to feel about it. The sleeves do well to hide the tubes and machinery that digs into your wrists, deep into your lifeless veins. They keep your body psudeo-alive, he presumes, to stay off decay.

However it seems it's drawing blood out, which he finds interesting. Though he doesn't have the time nor the desire to dwell on why such a thing would be needed.

"You remember The Mother Angel?"

Dante is more composed than most of the other Blood Angels, but Guilliman can still sense the awe in his voice from the primarch's eyes having touched their Mother Angel in life. He stands across from him, having decided to show Guilliman this sacred place.

"Her name, It was,"

Guilliman can't find himself to say it.

"I remember her, yes. Quite well."

Dante stands in reverence as if he's waiting for Guilliman to continue.

"I remember her voice, her face; I remember her wedding. I remember her putting Sanguinius' fallen feathers in her hair and dancing a fool." He clears his throat before continuing. "She lead the Blood Angels for a decade after Sanguinius. Then she fell ill. I always respected her tenacity and ability to lead a legion of Astartes despite her limitations."

Guilliman feels regret. He wishes he would've said more to Sanguinius when he'd voiced his worries, perhaps it would've spurred more action to prevent this outcome.

Sanguinius was the only one of them to find love, and look what happened; You got desecrated by it. Perhaps Corvus and Fulgrim were right to abandon the prospect all together. It seems to bring nothing but horror in the end. The only one of them to find love and that love got turned into it's own hideous creature, completely removed from what it had stood for.

His brow furrows, and he purses his lips in preparation to speak words that he just ends up swallowing.

"This, this is..."

Guilliman cuts himself off. He knows he shouldn't say these things in these chambers they call hallowed, in front of their Chapter Master. he needs Dante, he needs the Blood Angels more than he needs to protect a promise he never made in the first place.

"What, Lord Guilliman?" Dante urges him on, curiosity on his face.

"With all due respect, Master Dante," Guilliman looks to him, face stoic.

"If I were to say how I truly felt about all of this, I imagine you would no longer be willing to lend even a single man to assist the Ultramarines."

Dante looks at him confused, but doesn't show anger regarding his implications. Guilliman can see his lips twitch, eyes flickering down to your glass coffin for a moment.

But Dante just doesn't see it, and Guilliman knows it.

You've been like this for thousands of years, none of them see this as anything unusual. Generations of Blood Angels have been reared on you being this deity, the wife of an Angel, and there is no possible way to raise them out of that. What is done is done.

Guilliman is the only one seeing it as something wrong, as he is an outsider.

"Now, what is it you wished to discuss with me, Lord Dante?"

Guilliman changes the subject and turns away from the centerpiece of this cathedral, only allowed entry by the most elite of Blood Angels. He attempts to forget your body is even there, as there isn't a single thing he can do about it now.

He hopes Sanguinius will have mercy on him, next they meet.

[guhamun]

[Damian can speak in his Lynx form, but chances are you don't want him talking to you to begin with as most of what will come out of his mouth would make whoever he's hunting terrified. As a werelynx, he enjoys toying with whomever is considered his 'prey', and as a result, will often say or do things to make that person tempted to take a chance and run or do something that is horror movie levels of foolish.]

[devilishcupid]

CARBON COPY | Miguel O'Hara

☆ premise: trying to find miles morales in earth-42, he encounters you. or at least, a version of you.

☆ pairing: miguel o'hara x fem!alt universe!reader

☆ warnings: across the spiderverse spoilers, pregnant!reader, clueless!reader, angst, hurt no comfort, miguel's pov, some swearing

☆ a/n: oh my god. across the spiderverse is literally a masterpiece. into the spiderverse already is, but the spiderverse team said, "we can do better." they didn't have to, but they did.

"Do you really think this is a good idea?" Jessica asked through the commlink. "This is risky, even by your standards."

"It doesn't matter. The quicker we find Miles, the quicker we get out of here." Miguel muttered into his earpiece as he walked through the busy streets of Earth-42's New York.

"Yes, but blending in? For all we know, a version of us exists here."

"Which is why you need to stop talking and start looking, Jess." Miguel hissed a little too loud, earning looks from a few passerbys. He winced. Jessica had a point. If a version of them did exist in this universe, it would be best not to bring attention to themselves.

"Miguel!"

And... that was now thrown out of the window. Cursing under his breath, he turned around reluctantly to face the person who called him—only to find that it was you.

His eyes widened, and his lips parted at the sight of you. Never in a million years did he expect to see her again. But here you were, the absolute spitting image of her. Your clothes were exactly the same things she would wear, your hair and makeup done the same way.

Finding different versions of people in different universes was not uncommon. There's literally a society uniting the different universes' own Spider-people, for God's sake. But Miguel didn't expect this. He didn't expect a carbon copy of his dead wife on a universe where Spider-Man did not exist.

He should've said he wasn't Miguel, that you were mistaking him for someone else. Hell, he shouldn't have stopped and turned around in the first place. He didn't know what came over him, but in a second, he had his arms wrapped around your body.

"Miguel, hon, are you okay?" You asked, your voice laced with surprise and concern. You had no clue that the man who was hugging you was not your husband. At least, not your husband in this universe.

Miguel grunted in response, his ability to string words together to form a sentence rendered broken by your presence. He squeezed you tighter. He couldn't believe he was holding you in his arms.

You weren't the same woman he fell in love with. He knows this. But he couldn't help himself. You looked exactly like her. Felt exactly like her. Sounded exactly like her. Shit, you even smelled like her.

"Damn it, Miguel, keep it together! She's not your wife!"

Hearing Jess' voice snapped Miguel out of his stupor. Remembering his mission, why he was there in the first place, he pulled away from you. He didn't want to. He wanted to hold you longer. But he knew that if he did, he wouldn't have been able to stop.

"Honey, what's wrong?" You asked, cupping his face in your hands. God, how he missed feeling the warmth of your palms. "You're acting weird."

"I'm fine, sweetheart." He gave you a small smile, his hands wrapping around yours and his lips pressing a kiss on each of your wrists. "I just missed you, that's all."

You laughed. "What are you talking about? You saw me this morning."

Miguel could only chuckle in an attempt to hide his sadness. What was only hours for you was months for him. "Right. I did."

"Are you sure you're okay, though?" You asked again, eyebrows furrowing and the corners of your lips downturned.

"Don't worry about it, darling. I am."

He wasn't. But you didn't need to know that. You didn't need to know that in another universe, the two of you were married. You didn't need to know that you had a daughter together. You didn't need to know that he loved you and your daughter more than life itself, only for him to lose you both.

"Listen, I have to go. I'm having lunch with a friend. But I'll see you later at Doctor Nguyen's, okay?" You placed your hands on your stomach, a smile forming on your face. "I can't wait to see her again."

Miguel swallowed the lump in his throat before forcing himself to smile. Only now he noticed the bump on your stomach, carrying a different Miguel's Gabriella. "Yeah, me too."

With a kiss goodbye on his cheek, you walked away, blissfully unaware that he was not your Miguel. He watched as you disappeared around the corner, knowing it was the first and last time he was ever going to see you again.

But that didn't matter. He'll find Miles. He'll make sure the canon isn't destroyed. He'll make sure another version of himself wouldn't have to suffer the loss of his family the same way he did. He'll make sure you and your kid were safe.

[mommypieck]

⌗︙・happy birthday, gojo ⸜⸜・

"what do we have here?" he chuckles, his eyes piercing into your body. you're sitting on the floor in front of the door in cute white panties and your boobs are covered by a tiny ribbon that matches the one in your hair.

"happy birthday." you say shily, getting up to hug him. satoru lifts you up before kissing you softly. your legs are wrapped around his waist tightly even though you know he would never let you go. his eyes are back on the ribbon on your chest.

"it barely covers your nipples, baby." he says, making your cheeks turn red. the ribbon isn't hiding anything but you thought it was cute.

"you don't like it?" you ask and gojo's eyes turn red.

"of course i like it. i love it baby." he starts walking with you to your room where he throws you on the bed. gojo crawls on top of you, untying the ribbon to look at your boobs. he latches his mouth on one of your nipples, sucking while he teases the other one with his finger. you're confused, he ruined your whole plans, you were supposed to be the one pleasuring him.

"satoru, can i suck you off?" you ask him mid moans, but he just shakes his head. his mouth moves lower to the elastic of your panties. his tongue licks you over your underwear, knowing exactly where your clit is.

"satoruuuu..." you whine. you want him to feel good too.

"let me take care of you."

he pulls your panties down your legs, leaving you bare in front of him. he dives right in between your legs. you're already soaked, he always gets surprised how fast that little pussy gets wet. he eats you out slowly, taking him time with tasting you and maybe even teasing you.

"you're so good." you praise him and he giggles right in between your legs. he loves how innocent you are, of course he would be good at this.

"i need you inside." you moan, your fingers tangling in his hair to push him deeper. he laughs.

"but baby, you're pressing my face in between your legs while you beg for me to fuck you. you have to pick one." your cheeks go dark red again. but it's true, you want him to do both of those things at the same time. he smacks his lips, finally leaving the place in between your thighs. gojo pushes his pants down, revealing his already leaky hard on. precum is dripping down his length and he takes it in his hand, stroking to massage it into his shaft.

"are you ready?" he asks, pressing his tip to your opening. you nod your head frantically, whining when he rubs it up and down your pussy. with one quick thrust, he shelters himself inside of your pussy. he doesn't give you time to get used to his length and starts thrusting in. you took him multiple times and you love the sting. he's so much bigger than you, yet you take him so perfectly.

"harder." you moan, your body moving up and down under him on the bed. you're like a rag doll in his arms and he gets to do anything he wants with you. gojo gives it to you harder, making you scream. he savours every thrust of his hips, knowing you're close and he's close too. your pussy tightens on his cock. you'd never tell him you're close but he senses it.

"are you close, my love?" he asks, his finger coming to rub at your clit. you squeak, the stimulation too good for you. you nod your head at him, mouth opening to tell him but before you can speak, the knot inside of you bursts. you cum with a loud moan, your pussy squirting on his shaft. the grip your pussy has on him is too much for satoru and he cums inside of you. you can feel every spurt of his cum painting your walls.

he gently pulls out of you, making you whine in the loss of fullness.

"happy birthday." you giggle which makes him laugh too.

"thank you, baby. it was the best birthday present."

[sinsofsummers]

sensational

6.9k | joel miller & f!innocent!reader part two

this comes from this request. a few liberties were taken with the details (the reader knows that sex exists, but not much else), just fyi!

summary: thanks to becoming an orphan at age 13, you've lived the rest of your life oblivious to all the world can offer. now that you're in jackson, joel miller ignites something in you that only he can give answers to. warnings: slight angst (mentions of parent loss), innocent!fem!reader, age gap (joel is 56, reader is 25), kind of pervy!joel, smut (18+, mdni!!!), fingering, grinding, reader watches old pornos with joel, slight praise kink, no use of y/n. note: i planned originally to have this be just one part, but even though it ends in a way that i like, i could maybe be convinced to write a second part teehee (part two coming soon!)

You used to love the rain. The way it cascaded down your skin in little droplets, cleansing your body from a hard day's work, and the way it made your hair look so perfectly disheveled.

You craved the rain, until it became nothing but a reminder of the night your parents died.

It had been years at this point, but you would never quite forget how young, and small, and unsuspecting you'd been when they told you to run. How cruel, that time might pass, you might change, but with one smattering of rain, you returned so swiftly to the worst night of your life.

The three of you had been living alone, making your way...somewhere, but they never told you where. Your parents' only wish was to keep you safe, that much was clear. So it shouldn't have been a surprise that upon an ambush by at least ten clickers, after both your parents had been infected, that they'd insist that you run.

"Please, darling," your mother had pleaded, a lump in her throat as she formed the words. "Don't make me beg. I need you to run. Promise?"

Your father was somewhere else, but you could hear him yelling in the distance, in a fight for his life. You were too young, even at thirteen, to understand that those were the sounds of a dying man.

"I'll be right behind you," she'd choked on the last phrase, and in hindsight, you knew she was lying. But in the moment, you'd believed her. You couldn't see the bite she was hiding on her arm, her fate already sealed. "I'll come for you, my love," she insisted, "but I need you to go. Head for the woods."

It was the last time you saw her. You'd turned tail and had run as fast as you could for the woods.

The last thing you heard was a gunshot. A single shot, echoing around you in the trees. It may have been impossible to know, but you didn't need to turn back. Your parents were dead.

If you hadn't found Jackson, who knows how long you might have lasted. Nearing your twenty-first year, you'd proven valuable to the community, and they'd welcomed you in. Jackson was the first home you'd had since you were five.

It hadn't occurred to you that you were years behind your peers in terms of...well, everything, until you met Joel.

Rugged, tan, and sporting a perpetual frown paired with an ever-present crease between his brows, Joel Miller was your patrol partner. You weren't exactly sure why, and he didn't seem particularly pleased about it, but then again—he never seemed particularly pleased about anything.

It hadn't struck you as anything to be proud of, or to boast about to the other young women in Jackson, but they certainly loved coming up to you and expressing their jealousy when they felt so inclined.

"What's he like on patrol?" they'd ask, their eyes wide and lips curled in smirks as they waited for any insight you could give them on his mysterious personality.

All you could ever say over the next four years was a quick, "He's quiet."

Maybe that was why the two of you worked well. He wasn't much of a talker, and after you'd lost your parents, you hadn't been one to waste any breath on conversation, especially when you had survived alone with your own thoughts for almost eight years.

Silence was your mutual understanding. No talking meant no questions, and no questions meant no problems.

And this worked. Until it didn't.

-- -- --

It started like anything started. Quietly, hardly a bother, until it sank into the marrow of your bones and demanded that you address it.

More literally, it started in your shoulders. You'd been on patrol with Joel, a quiet, "Let's go," his only words to you that morning. They were his only words to you every morning, and that day was no different.

Patrolling with him was easy. Like you'd said—no talking, so no problems. You rode next to each other on your respective horses, and there was nothing more than a glance or two toward each other when necessary. It was the only form of communication that the two of you shared.

His big brown eyes had always startled you, looking so inviting in the contrast of the white snow during the winter, but they never showed you more than he allowed you to see. And all you saw of Joel was his dedication to sleep, patrol, eat, and repeat.

You hadn't felt the desire to look that closely at him until some of the girls in Jackson asked you how big his hands were, or what he looked like up close.

"You know," one of them had crooned, not realizing you were unsure of their intentions, "what does he look like without that big old coat on?"

You'd shrugged. "Why should I know?"

Another one wiggled her eyebrows. "Doesn't it get...lonely out there? Nothing but you, the snow, and a big man like Joel to keep you company?"

The faces of those girls, the glint in their eyes, it was something you couldn't quite decipher, as much as you wished you could. So one day, you'd asked the man himself what it all meant.

When you said it for the first time, it was so quiet that you could hardly even hear yourself.

Joel grunted, the only indication that he'd heard you.

Your cheeks burned, but you couldn't find a reason why. This was just Joel. He seemed to know everything there was to know about life; surely he could help you understand this. "Why do the girls in town keep asking me what it's like to patrol with you?"

He didn't answer for a second, but then shrugged. "They botherin' you?"

"No." You weren't quite sure that was true, and knowing him, he could probably hear the lie in your voice. "They're just kind of...belligerent."

His eyebrow cocked. "S'a big word," he mused. "Sure you know what it means?"

Your cheeks grew hot. "Yes," you insisted sharply. "I do read, you know."

He murmured a response, but the wind carried it away from you. You rode in silence for a bit longer before he said, "Don't let those girls get in your head. I think they just wanna get a rise outta you."

"A rise?"

Joel nodded and brought his horse to a routine stop. This was where the two of you always stretched your legs. He reached up to help you down your own mount and set you on the ground gingerly. "You know," he said, as if you should know, but with no regard for the fact that you didn't. "You're still kinda new here. Seems they're still pretty dead-set on embarrassin' you."

"I'm not embarrassed," you insisted again. "I just...is there a joke I'm not getting?"

"Any reason you chose to talk so much today?" was his only answer, which made your stomach clench.

There was no reason for you to be offended, as it was your typical routine to remain quiet unless absolutely necessary, but you couldn't help the way your lips curved downward. "Sorry," you mumbled, "forget I asked."

He was quiet again as the two of you walked at least two hundred paces, stretching out your sore muscles in the snow. It used to be comforting, the silence. It wasn't maddening, it didn't ever bother you if Joel was in his thoughts. You weren't even sure at times if he had any. But all that had changed now; his brow creased more than it usually did, and you wanted nothing more than to ask him what he was thinking.

Joel was the one constant in your life now. Maybe it was a—well, probably it was a trauma response from losing your parents, but you couldn't help it. You didn't need much from anyone, just someone to stay. Joel was strong enough to take care of himself and was smart enough not to make any rash decisions. As far as you could tell, he'd stay.

So how could you be so embarrassed by asking these questions?

"I forgot how long you said you were...alone out there," his grunting voice filled the space between you once more. It was quiet, and he sounded hesitant, as if he wasn't sure how to speak.

"Since I was thirteen," you said mechanically, so familiar with others in Jackson asking the same question.

"Shit," he cursed under his breath. "And you're how old?"

"Twenty-five," you said, feeling oddly small in his presence.

He shook his head. "That's a long time to be alone," he muttered, blowing out a breath.

You huffed. "Yeah, well, I survived. And besides, I've been here for four years now, you know."

"I know."

Again, the silence. Infuriating.

Then, you couldn't help it. "What's...'spooning,' and why do those girls ask me if we've done it?"

Joel stumbled, reaching out for balance. His hand found purchase on your shoulder, and you caught him awkwardly. "You don't even know what spooning is?" He sounded incredulous, as if you'd asked a juvenile question.

The warmth from his hand was astonishing, and distracted you from your embarrassment, if only for a moment. It sank through his glove into your coat, and down toward your skin. Something about the weight of his hand on your shoulder, even for a second as he removed it quickly, was enough to send you spiraling.

Your face burned. "Never mind," you said quietly and mounted your horse again. How stupid could you get? You scolded yourself. You'd ventured too far into this conversation, and now you didn't know how to get yourself out of it. "I was just...never mind. We should get back."

He nodded, but his face still looked somewhat pinched. "Yeah. S'getting dark."

The sun was still up. No intention of sinking beneath the horizon for at least a few hours. You rode again in uncomfortable silence, this time letting it fill the space. You foolishly thought that maybe if you were quiet long enough, he'd forget that you'd made a fool of yourself, that you'd exposed yourself to the truth: that you knew hardly anything about...anything except for survival instincts.

When Joel spoke again, it surprised you. "I didn't mean to tease ya," he said. "It's just kind of a surprise that you're not...that you don't..." he looked over at you, and there was some type of pleading in his eyes, as if he were begging you not to make him say it.

"That I don't what?" you said dumbly, hoping you didn't sound as childish as you felt.

He pondered his next words carefully, and then he hummed, "If you want, I could...teach you some stuff."

"Like spooning?" You felt a warmth in your face as you watched his shoulders hunch with a soft laughter. Your own shoulder burned where he'd touched it, and something bloomed in your gut.

He chuckled. "I don't know about all that," he said, "but I'll help you get...back on track. Would hate for someone to take advantage of your...innocence." It sounded sinful, the way he said it, and the something in your gut pulsed.

"You don't have to," you shook your head, but you didn't even believe the words as they came out of your mouth. "I'll just ask someone else."

"Darlin', don't trust anyone else to give you straight answers. I'm older'n half of everyone in Jackson, anyway." He flashed you a look. "I'll help. Whatever you want to know."

You bit the insides of your cheeks, your stomach turning strangely. "Anything?"

He nodded dutifully, but his eyes had already left yours. Joel Miller, ever the professional. "Whatever you want."

-- -- --

Joel liked to consider himself someone who would never again suffer the shock of surprises. After having lived through and seen more shit than any normal person could, he thought he'd experienced it all.

That is, until her pretty lips had opened and asked him to teach her about all she'd missed. Until she asked him to teach her.

He hadn't really seen her as the picture of innocence until he'd heard how long she'd been alone, surviving with no one and nothing besides her own thoughts and the clothes on her back.

The least her parents could do was teach her how to shoot, he'd thought when he first met her. It was a curiosity that was quickly resolved, as she'd proven herself valuable to Jackson.

Tommy had wasted no time putting them on patrol together. "It'll be good for you," his brother had reasoned when he brought up concerns. "You know, to talk to someone out there. I know she's on the young side, but you don't gotta fall in love with her." He'd flashed an apologetic smile when Joel had scowled. "You're scarin' everyone, Joel. Bein' all quiet and shit...it's—"

"It's what?" he'd asked gruffly. "I don't do it on purpose. I'm a grown man."

This was all true, and he very much didn't do it on purpose. With no one around whom he deemed worthy of his conversation, Joel Miller had become the quiet, introspective version of himself that everyone decided to become scared of all of a sudden.

The way he saw things? It wasn't his fault everyone in Jackson was boring. Or childish.

But her. With her unmistakable will to survive and those eyes that could burn fierce with ire one moment, and soften with curiosity the next...it was only a matter of time before he agreed to do whatever she asked.

He should have seen it coming, especially considering her past. Every time he thought of just how...unsuspecting she was about...everything, he had to shake his head, clearing it of any thoughts that threatened to take advantage of her.

But being ignorant of spooning. He had to clear his throat every time he thought of what that might mean for himself in this particular arrangement. If she knew nothing of something so...palatable, he could hardly help himself when thinking of what else she might be unaware of.

He tried to be patient, and he tried to be respectful, but at the end of the day, he was Joel Miller. From the moment she looked at him with those wide eyes, he was lost.

-- -- --

"What I would give to give that man the ride of his life," one of the girls next to you hummed at breakfast the next morning, her eyes presumably glued to Joel, who'd just come into the cafeteria. You didn't look up at him, instead casting a confused glance toward the girl who'd spoken.

"Ride where?" You cursed your quick instinct to ask questions, as the girls erupted into a fit of giggles. Face burning, you looked down again at your plate. "Never mind," came your almost instantaneous response. You were getting used to having to apologize for your ignorance, and people rarely—especially not these girls—offered their kindness.

One of the other girls snickered. "Why don't you ask him? I'm sure there's nothing much to talk about out there anyway," she said, smiling widely. Her next words were nothing short of a drawl, the complete essence of mockery. "'Joel, what's it mean to ride?'" she pinched her face in what you assumed was an impression of you, and it only made your eyebrows furrow despite your stomach sinking in utter horror.

And then there he was. He'd called your name, and now he was standing behind your left shoulder, hand outstretched to save you.

You were sure his hand had never looked quite as appealing as it did now. The calluses on his palm were raised and visibly rough. For a moment, you stared at his fingers and wondered what they might feel like against your cheek.

Swallowing a lump in your throat, that something arose in your gut once more before you heard him murmur your name again.

"Come on," he grunted, but there was a gentleness to it that made the hair on the nape of your neck stand on end. "Time to go."

The girls at your table were silent when you took his hand gingerly and let him lead you from the cafeteria. You noted the swift wave of cold that hit your hand as soon as he dropped it, just a second later. Clasping your hands together, you hoped in a fit of desperation that you might preserve some of the weight and warmth of his touch on your skin. It failed.

"Thanks," you said later, when the two of you were outside the community's borders. Jackson felt a bit too stuffy for any real admissions of gratitude, you'd decided. It turned out to be a good conclusion when you felt the delicious churn of your stomach at the idea of being alone with him once more.

I'm sure there's nothing much to talk about out there anyway, one of the girls had said. Doesn't it get lonely out there? You were reminded of another's teasing, and this time your cheeks burned at the memory. Nothing but you, the snow, and a big man like Joel to keep you company.

He was big, you considered. When he stood next to you, his frame was almost larger than life, and his shoulders were sinfully broad when you watched him walk in front of you on previous patrols. The sheer size of him was enough to send you into a heady descent.

As usual, Joel didn't answer for what felt like ages, and you'd begun to wonder if he could see where your train of thought had led you. Then:

"You could have told me they were bein' that outrageous," he grunted, keeping his eyes forward. "I woulda helped you out sooner. S'no fun feelin' left outta everything."

It was...odd to hear such words come from a man like Joel. Although, you reminded yourself, you'd hardly spoken to him in the four years that you'd been in Jackson; who was to say he wasn't normally like this? A quiet, brooding older man, yes; but maybe he was naturally like this. One to offer his help.

"If you wanted to help, you would have made an effort four years ago." You let your words hang in the air. You didn't mean for them to come off sharp; it was simply the truth. "I don't need your help," you added, tightening your hands on the reins of your horse and swallowing roughly. "It was fine. I am fine."

He flashed you a look as if to say, is that so? You couldn't help but notice the way the corners of his eyes creased, the only sign of amusement. It was all you could do to keep your eyes on him, although you weren't sure how you were going to explain the way your mouth went dry at the sight of his big brown eyes.

"Besides," you insisted quietly, "you're not my dad."

Joel cleared his throat. Looked down, shoulders tense. Inhaled. "No," he said decidedly. "No, I'm not."

Emboldened by this clarification, you inquired, "So what did those girls mean earlier? Riding, I mean?"

If you could have guaranteed the image of Joel's eyes going wide in surprise to remain in your head for the rest of your days, you would have done it instantly. His forehead was creased as his eyebrows lifted, and despite his position facing away from you, you could see it all.

The way he seemed to wrestle with himself before answering, the way his hands seemed to clench in his gloves. "So, uh..." he started, and then paused again. Mustering up whatever courage he needed, Joel finished, "Well, ya see, when a man and woman love each other very much—"

"Joel." Oh. You couldn't help it when a breathless chuckle left your lips.

He was silent, and when he finally answered, it wasn't a question. "What."

"I'm not fucking stupid. I know how reproduction works."

Joel's chest rose and fell in a deep sigh, and you couldn't ignore the look of complete relief that washed over his rough features. "Thank fuckin' Christ. Didn't know if I had it in me for another sex talk. I'm too old to be doin' this."

"Believe it or not, my parents did leave me with the basic information." Swallowing roughly, you continued. "And I know...I know that men usually...take. It's an assertion of power, from what I've...seen."

He shook his head. "Guess I shouldn't be surprised that you've run into your fair share of dirtbags, even in the middle of the world goin' to shit." He ran a gloved hand through his hair, and you secretly enjoyed the way it stood up. "Anyone ever, you know...take...from you?"

Hearing your own words regurgitated back to you left you feeling fluttery. Shaking your head, you got down from your horse; you'd reached your typical resting spot. "No," you said firmly. "They never wanted me."

Joel nodded. "S'good," he said, and it bothered you to no end that you couldn't understand the emotion in his voice. "So..."

By now he was standing next to you, closer than you were used to, judging by the way his coat sleeve bumped yours as the two of you walked, stretching your legs. "So," you said, thinking up a way to make this conversation less awkward. "I just hate feeling like a kid again. I'm twenty-five, for fuck's sake. There's more than just survival when it comes to living. I just want to know what I'm missing out on," you confessed with a hand on your stomach.

When Joel brushed by your side again your stomach flipped. And what the fuck is that about, and why do I keep feeling it? You asked inwardly, but you were too nervous to ask. Bombarding Joel with questions, especially after you'd just started talking to him on patrol after four years, seeming to be the wrong path to take.

He shrugged, eyebrows still furrowed in thought. "There's nothing to miss if you don't know what you're missin'."

"Yes," you admitted, "but that doesn't stop any of those girls from making me feel like I'm..."

"Innocent?" he murmured, and you thought you weren't meant to hear it until he turned to look at you.

Those big brown eyes, they just won't quit, a voice nudged you in your head.

"I don't want to be innocent," you groaned, throwing your head back. "God, not in the sense that they see me in. Sounds like a damn curse."

The sound of his rumbling laughter, however quiet, sent a shock down your spine and you nearly tripped in the snow. "There's pros and cons, I s'pose," he offered. "It's like I said: I'll help you get back on track. If that's what you really want."

"It is." You stopped walking, took a look around at the landscape, otherwise empty with the scattering of trees. You swallowed, pressed one. "So...riding. It's a part of reproducing, then?"

He chuckled again, but this time it didn't come off as demeaning. It was like he was teasing you, but good-naturedly. "Let's not jump too far ahead of ourselves, yeah? Start with somethin' smaller. Then we'll work our way up."

Joel's eyes were piercing when he held yours in his gaze. If someone watched this conversation, you were sure they'd be able to see the blush blooming on your cheeks.

"Learnin' takes time, ya know," he mused, his growling voice nearly a hum that could have warmed you from the inside out.

You'd made it to the edge of the woods now. This was normally where you turned back, heading for home. But neither of you moved. The bubble of something pulsed again, and you swallowed roughly before whispering hoarsely, "So where should we start?"

-- -- --

If Joel were a better man, he might have warned her what the curse of innocence in a young woman could be. He might have shook his head, stepped back, and told her to ask someone else. He might have taken the reins and turned the two of them back toward Jackson.

If he were better, he wouldn't have stepped closer to her. If he were a better man, he wouldn't have looked into her sparkling eyes and let the question slip. Fuck it all.

"You ever been kissed, darlin'?"

-- -- --

You swallowed. Don't make a fool of yourself, you begged yourself before answering with a quiet shake of your head. "Not many contenders out there. Not any good ones, anyway."

He'd leaned closer to you with his question, and now you could practically see each line of age in his face. Joel's expression was unclear; he could have been pleased with this information or...or maybe there was pity in his eyes. "No," he said with an understanding nod. "No, I suppose there wouldn't have been."

He lifted a gloved hand to his mouth and you watched as he traced it along his lips. The gray strands in his hair glinted off the sunlight, blinking pleasantly in your eyes. That something pulsed once more in your stomach, and there was a sort of realization that came with it.

Joel, you thought. Joel is making me feel like this.

"Will you kiss me?" The words were out of your mouth before you could reel them in.

But instead of laughing, or scoffing, or giving any sign of mockery, Joel Miller inhaled quietly. "You know how much older I am than you?" he asked.

You nodded. "We're both adults, Joel. Besides," you felt a ghost of a smirk come to grace your lips, a feigned confidence coming to save you in this moment of truth. "I thought you told me to ask you these questions."

He sighed. "You're right."

"So? Will you?" you asked, with a small, "please?" coming out afterward.

He moved slowly, something you were equally thankful for as you were frustrated with, but his forehead met yours soon enough. His eyelashes brushed against your cheek, and he let out a shaky breath, letting it fan deliciously across your face. The knowledge that he was just as nervous as you were was not only a comfort; it was perhaps the most attractive thing you'd ever known.

And when you lifted your chin, just a hairsbreadth from his lips, your eyes fluttered closed, waiting for him to meet you in the middle. It only took a moment before he was closing his mouth over yours, and Joel Miller was kissing you.

He was gentle, of course, but there was something restrained about his kiss, the way he slowly slotted his lips over yours as if you might crack under any more pressure. It only made you want more, more, more...

You pressed your hands to his chest and curled them into fists, tugging his jacket to lessen the distance between your bodies even more. You didn't know how you were doing this, how you'd managed to find confidence in what could have easily been a humiliating experience. Your first kiss at twenty-five? With anyone else, it might have been a nightmare.

With Joel, it was turning out to be the most delightful dream.

"So soft, baby," he pulled back to whisper against your mouth. "These lips are so soft for me."

You hummed your response and pulled him back to you, letting him see that you wanted more. That incessant pressure was building, and it wasn't until he had his arms sliding around your waist that you forced yourself to pull back, head spinning. "Joel."

He blinked. "What? Too fast?" He shook his head. "I'm sorry, darlin', you're just so—"

"No, that's not it." You managed a weak smile, but the look in his eye, the question and the undeniable desire—is that what it looks like?—quivering in his brown irises, nearly made you collapse. He waited for you to continue, his hands never leaving you, a courtesy you were grateful for. "I feel...hot." Your cheeks warmed. "Um, there's this...pressure."

His lips closed in a tight smirk, and he squeezed your hips. "Where, baby?" he murmured, and you could have sworn you saw stars outlining his head at the sound of the pet name. "Show me," he cooed.

"Um." You paused, unsure of just how. But with his hands on your waist, his heavy, warm touch melting you on the spot, you took one of his gloved hands in yours and guided him to your stomach. "Here. Kind of."

"Yeah?" he said, and you forgot about the cold. About your horses waiting to be mounted, about your other responsibilities in Jackson. All you could see were his dark eyes that had somehow grown darker as you pushed his hand down, down, down...

"Fuck, babygirl," he cursed, and let his hand rest on the crux of your thighs, just barely pressing on the source of the tingling sensation. If anything, it made it worse, and you let a breathy whine fall from your lips. "You're gonna be the death of me, huh?" he groaned.

You couldn't form words. Just one kiss (a very good kiss, mind you) and a heavy hand on your core was all it took, apparently. You could hardly look anywhere but his face, your mouth dropping open as your hips moved of their own accord, grinding into his hand before you realized you were doing it. "Joel—" you whimpered, and he pulled his hand away.

There wasn't enough time for you to feel jilted, as he tugged you back to your horse and practically launched you onto it himself. "We're goin' back," he said firmly, "now."

Swallowing, your throat dry and rough, you pressed a hand to your cheek, feeling the heat swimming under your skin. "Did I do something wrong?"

You could hardly see him shake his head as he mounted his own horse, looking back at you to make sure you were following him. "'Course not," he called over his shoulder. When you caught up with him, the two of you shoulder-to-shoulder, he continued. "Look, darlin', f'I'm gonna be givin' you your first kiss and makin' you feel that good..." he sighed, his dark eyes finding yours. "I'm not doin' it in a fuckin' snowbank."

-- -- --

The entire ride back to Jackson was painfully long, silent but for Joel's mumbled directions, despite the fact that the two of you had taken this same route countless times in the four years that you patrolled together.

Your eyes were trained forward, and you knew his were as well, but it took everything in you not to glance at him even for a second. If you did, you were afraid that the pressure building in the crux of your thighs would never go away.

It would be unfair to say that you were completely unaware of what might happen when you got back to Jackson, but you still didn't know much, which left a nervous bubble rising in your gut. It wasn't like there were any books left in Jackson that you could read about it, or any movies that Maria would allow to remain in the community's borders.

Again, you got a wave of feeling like this should have concerned you, or at least made you a little anxious. But with Joel pulling ahead, his strong back the only thing you could look at, you felt the knot of tension release in your stomach. This was Joel. After four years—even four mostly silent years—of working together, you felt like you...knew him, somehow. That he couldn't possibly lead you astray.

Sure enough, when you were both within the borders, horses returned safely to their stables, the tension returned. Or had it ever really dissipated?

Joel hovered close to you as you left the stables. "Let's go, darlin'," he breathed, a gloved hand on your lower back as he guided you.

"Where?" you said, and you hoped it didn't sound as desperate as it did to you, the pressure getting worse. "I need—"

"I know, baby, I know," he cooed gently, his head on a swivel as if looking for anyone who might stop you. "We're goin' to mine. I've got the perfect lesson planned for ya, alright?"

It was all you could do to nod and let him push you forward through the snowy streets. If only those girls could see you now.

Once inside, you took a breath. There was no one around, and once the door closed behind you, the silence felt all the more heavy. "Ellie?" you asked, if only in courtesy.

He shook his head, and you bit your lip when you saw him smirk. "Just us, doll."

Joel shed his outer layers, and when he stood in front of you, you realized that this was the first time you'd seen him without his coat. Without his gloves, aside from that morning.

Your eyes snagged on his fingers, and you swallowed roughly when you saw the way they twitched, as if in anticipation for something. Or maybe he was holding himself back, you considered. His jaw did seem to have an impatient clench to it. Hands rough like you knew they would be, it didn't take long for your mind to wander into thinking of what it might be like to feel those hands on your skin.

With any luck, he'd give you the sweet release you craved, however it would unfold.

"See anything you like?" he teased, and your cheeks warmed.

"Sorry," you fumbled for a response, your eyes dropping. You'd meant to clear your head, but then your eyes were caught on his thighs. Specifically how hard the seams on his jeans were fighting to remain unripped. "Um, a lesson, you said?"

He nodded, reaching out a hand to take your own coat off, leaving you in the sweater and pants you'd had on all day. You were sure your hair was knotted and would be for days, but he only smoothed a hand down your face, letting you lean into his touch. His fingers were still cold, but your face was hot and it offered a dizzying sense of relief.

"I could never teach you all this," he murmured, his thumb rubbing back and forth in an absentminded swipe across your cheek. "Not without getting...distracted," he finished, pressing his other hand to your waist. Underneath the thick layer of your coat, his hand felt like a hot iron scorching your skin, despite there still being a few layers of clothes between your bodies.

"Distraction is okay," you breathed, lifting a hand to cup his on your waist. "Right?"

He shook his head, a chuckle lifting from deep in his chest. "Not tonight," he whispered. "Tonight, I want to stick to the plan."

"Which is?"

Wordlessly, he removed the hand on your waist and entwined it with your own, tugging you toward the living room where an old television had been placed on a rickety-looking shelf. "Sit," he directed, and you did so without hesitation. He paused, biting back a smile at your eager cooperation, and adjusted himself.

It occurred to you that as much as you were affected by him, he was experiencing a similar effect from you. His pants, already tighter than sin, seemed to have become even tighter, as a bulge began to grow while he stood just a few feet from your face.

"Joel—"

"No, no," he waved a dismissive hand and went to the television to grab something. He came back with something you recognized: a VHS tape. "Don't worry 'bout me, sweets. Tonight's just for you."

"We're gonna watch a movie?" you asked, trying to ignore the way your heart sank a little. You had been hoping that the two of you would kiss some more, and maybe even...you didn't even know the name for it.

"Not just any movie," he grinned, putting it in to watch. The video started. "A special one."

When the scene opened on a man and a woman in the throes of passion, you gasped. "No way," you whispered. "I thought Maria—"

He shrugged, sinking down on the couch beside you, his knee bumping yours. "She must've missed this one," was all he said.

The woman looked to be enjoying herself, as her scene partner kissed her neck, dragging his tongue from the dip in her clavicle to the curve of skin where her neck met her ear. A cartoon-ish moan left her lips, but you didn't pay it any mind. The sight of it made your thighs clench together subconsciously, the lick of pressure rising again in your center.

"Joel—"

"Shh," he said gently. "C'mere, darlin'." With no more than a heavy hand on your waist, he tugged you closer to him, situating you over his lap. "Comfortable?"

You almost said no; you knew that this wouldn't be an acceptable seating arrangement in the cafeteria (or anywhere public, for that matter), but when his hands landed on your thighs, you nodded swiftly. His fingers curled around your skin, and you could feel every pulse of his heartbeat through his fingertips, poised as if he might spread your legs from where they were squeezed together between his own thighs.

Something hard and solid nudged at your core, and you couldn't help it when you leaned back into his chest, head tilting back to rest on his shoulder. A breathy moan tumbled from your lips, and your stomach fluttered when you felt his chest rumble with a chuckle.

"That quick, baby?" he whispered, his breath fanning over your neck. "You really are a sweet young thing, aren't ya," he teased, pressing his nose to the joint between your jaw and your neck, "fallin' apart for me already?" He rocked his hips forward, his bulge pressing harder against you, and it nearly sent you into a spiral.

You swallowed, your throat dry. The sounds of the movie seemed far away as you opened your eyes and looked at his beard, peppered with gray and scratching at your chin when he leaned over you. "Joel," you whispered, bringing your hands to cover his own on your thighs, "I-I want to know everything." You'd never meant anything more fervently, more desperately, than this.

If you'd known how addicting this could feel, being so close to him, feeling his hands on you, perhaps you would have been embarrassed at the way your hips began rubbing yourself on his lap, hoping for—you didn't even know what could be after this. You just knew that the way you felt was the most intense thing you'd felt in your entire life, and you wanted to keep feeling this way, as long as you could.

Joel tutted, squeezing his hands on your thighs. "Oh, look at you," he groaned, a deep, carnal noise that made your chest constrict, "you're a natural, doll." His lips brushed your shoulder, and he darted his tongue out to lick a small strip up your neck.

Your heart swelled with the praise, and it was all you could do not to squeeze your eyes shut. "Please," you begged quietly, as if someone might hear you.

"I know, baby, I know," he crooned, dark eyes locked onto your own as his hand crept closer—to your waistband—closer—unzipping your pants—closer...there.

Your hips lifted from his lap with the heady sensation of his fingers pressed to a bundle of nerves between your legs. "Joel—!" you squeaked.

You felt him smile against your cheek. "So wet," he murmured, "so slick for my fingers, baby." He began rubbing that spot in tight circles, a slow, torturous pace. "Let me know when you're gonna come, yeah?"

"When I..." you trailed off. You'd never...how would you know? "I don't..."

Joel hummed in your ear, rocking his hips again and releasing a guttural groan. "S'okay, pretty girl," he reassured you, "I'll be gentle. Lemme know when it feels like it's too much. "I've gotcha."

You were too far gone to doubt him. This was Joel. He wouldn't let you fall, as much as you felt like you were going to slide to the floor at the feeling of his hand coming up from your leg to caress your breast, rolling a nipple between his fingertips. A strangled mix between a cry and a moan left your lips, and with one more kiss to your brow paired with a quick swipe of his finger over your ever-sensitive bud—

Something gave way and you jerked your head back, digging into his shoulder. Your legs spasmed and you squeezed your hand over Joel's, holding his hand in place underneath your panties.

"Fuck, doll, just like that," he encouraged you. "Look at you, eyes rollin' back for me. Shakin' like a good girl." His hips tensed beneath you and you felt his chest shudder as he released a punishing moan. "Got me feelin' like a damn teenager, comin' in my jeans."

His fingers stilled, but his hand didn't move. Your legs slowly stopped shaking, and the solid mass beneath you was softening. You let out a sigh, your eyelids fluttering closed. Your cheeks were flushed, you could tell; but this time, it wasn't embarrassment that brought the warmth to your face.

"You okay?" he murmured, carefully removing his hands from their places on you. "Feel alright, darlin'?"

Your head turned, nestling into the crook of his neck. Nodding quietly, you shifted in his lap. "I...I didn't know it could be like that," you shivered.

Joel paused the video, the living room falling quiet around you. Swinging a hand under your legs and tugging you to a more comfortable position over his lap, he raised his fingers to his lips, glistening with the remnants of your desire. Your jaw slackened when you watched him open his mouth, lapping at the tips of his fingers.

"Trust me, doll," he said with a glint in his eye. You whimpered in anticipation as he reached to brush a strand of hair from your face. "I've got so much more to teach you."

tysm for reading! you made it to the end! part two is in the works posted!

[envy-of-the-apple]

Exception

Dark!Geto Suguru x reader

5.8k wc

Synopsis: You never bothered with Suguru's crush on you, knowing it would fade. After meeting him again years later, you make the horrible discovery that his feelings for you have only festered.

(Warnings: yandere, dark content, murder of a side character, slight gore, violence, rape/noncon, vaginal fingering, piv sex, unsafe sex)

When you were in your first year of college, you got a part-time job at a nearby cafe. 

It was easy work. Make coffee. Bake some pastries. Attend to the customers. Nothing too unmanageable. It was an insignificant part of your life. 

Then, Gojo and Geto came along.

 

Insufferably annoying. Especially, the loud one. They always caused a havoc in the cafe, often to the point where the manager had to physically kick them out. It was a turbulent two weeks, until one day you promised them if they kept it down, you'd let them try a few of your experimental pastries. 

Really, it was your own damn fault. They started coming every day after that, mostly to bother you. The only reason management hadn't outright banned them was probably because Gojo made 50% of their entire revenue. 

You warmed up to them eventually. Your fake smiles turned into more amused ones because of their antics. Once or twice, they'd get a good laugh out of you. You've heard rumors of a private, religious highschool nearby. You always assumed they were a byproduct of that. 

Eventually, Gojo becomes Satoru. Geto becomes Suguru. Nice kids, if not a bit overzealous. Despite refusing to hang out with them after work, you had to admit, you grew a bit attached to them. You found yourself asking about their day, hiding sweets for the two of them, sometimes you'd even let them steal a croissant or two. 

You bet the reason they hung around you was because, to them, you were some cool college student. Secretly, you found it a little flattering. Some days, their friendship was the highlight of your shift. It's clear Satoru is always the instigator, always looking like he's about to bounce off the walls (you have told him to lay off the sugar), it's not like Suguru was any better. He tried to act like he was the more refined part of the friendship. He often fails, at least in your eyes. 

It becomes pretty apparent that Suguru had a crush on you. You're not sure when exactly you started to notice the bashful looks, the slight flush on his cheeks whenever you accidentally brush his hand, the fact that he visits far more often (even though Satoru has the sweet-tooth) but you can't unsee it now. It doesn't help that Satoru looks downright giddy whenever his friend talks to you, barely controlling his giggles in the background. His reaction and Suguru's irritation often start a few skirmishes right outside the cafe doors. You've told them multiple times to take their fights in the alley at least. They never listened. 

For his sake, you don't acknowledge it, already knowing what it is. A schoolyard crush. Harmless, it'll pass. Eventually, when you're a distant memory to them, Satoru will tease him about it and Suguru will give a playful elbow nudge. Much to your relief, Suguru doesn't pull you to the side and confess. He's refined, in that way, never giving too much until you have the evidence and clues yourself. 

It continued like that for months. And then, something changed. 

They stopped coming around as much. Daily visits turned weekly. Weekly turned to every so often. Their energy felt off too. Satoru seemed the same as always, if not a bit more mellowed out. It was Suguru you mainly worried for. Each time he returned, he looked worse and worse. Darker circles. Eyes filled with exhaustion. 

You pull him aside eventually, asking if anything is going on, asking if he's okay, asking if he wants to talk. As sincerely as you can, you tell him that you're here for him. He at least attempts to smile at that. When you press, he shakes his head. 

"It's nothing," you both know he's lying, "it's just....it's nice to see that there is one exception." 

A little while after that, they stop coming entirely. You notice, but you aren't able to focus on it. School gets harder, you're cutting back your work to focus on it. You don't even recognize Satoru at first when he walks in nearly a year later. 

He's different. So much taller. Despite being a few years younger than you...he doesn't feel like a kid anymore. An easygoing smile is pulled on his face when he sees you, giving a lazy wave. You return it, though a bit hesitant. He talks to you as though no time has passed at all, asking what you made for him this time. He talks fast. His voice is too laid back. Too casual. Like he's avoiding something. You think you know what. 

"Where's Suguru?" you ask when you glance behind Satoru for the third time, "I haven't seen him around lately." 

He freezes, like he's been dreading that question ever since he came in. Finally, he shrugs, making a noncommital hum. His sunglasses obscure his eyes but it isn't enough to hide how cold he suddenly turned. Satoru seems to realize that too. His answer is pulled by reluctance. 

"We don't talk anymore." He doesn't say anything more. You don't need him to.

When he pulls out his wallet, you tell him it's on the house. He looks at you then. His mouth opens, searching for the right words. He waits too long. His mask slips back into place. 

Gojo grins at you, painfully fake. 

"Take care of yourself, will ya?" 

You never see him again after that. You know it's your fault. 

You think about them every so often when you can, Suguru especially. He rests in the back of your mind like an old piece of furniture you can't bring yourself to throw out. Suguru sometimes haunts your dreams with his darkened eyes and the pure brokenness on his face. For some reason, you think you failed him somehow. You felt like you could have done more. Maybe, if you'd tried harder to reach out, things would have been different. Two boys wouldn't be utterly heartbroken. 

Years pass by. You quit working at the cafe. You graduate college. You move cities. You get a job. Eventually, you settle into a nice apartment. You forget all about your days in that quaint little restaurant, your attention hogged by a couple of annoying high schoolers. You don't think about Satoru for years. You don't think about Suguru for years. 

Until one day, when he calls your name in the street. 

He was bigger now, towering over you with broad shoulders. His hair was longer, darker too, less of a green, more black. He's ditched his school uniform, trading it for a more casual outfit. It's his face that makes you hesitate before you use your voice, that same smile, physically at least. He looks the same, but then he doesn't. 

"...Suguru?" It's a question because you're still not sure. 

He smiles wider. 

"Long time, huh?" 

Somehow, your reunion culminates in a restaurant. You still feel out of it, somehow, like you're watching yourself in an out-of-body experience. Between the food and him, you're not sure if you can even believe it. 

He tells you he heads a temple now. A pious man. You shouldn't be surprised, considering his education, but you never knew he was so invested in religion. The two of you converse about other meaningless things. The conversation becomes less stilted. More sincere. You learned your lesson from last time. You don't bring up Satoru unless he does. 

Much to your disappointment, he doesn't. 

Compared to yours, his life is so crazy. Not just with the temple. Suguru tells you he's a father now too. Adopted two little girls. He's barely 22. You can barely hold your disbelief, shaking your head as you take another sip of your coffee. 

"In any case," you say when the conversation draws to a lull, "I'm just really glad you're happy, Suguru. You deserve it." 

When Suguru gives you a questioning look, you continue. 

"The last time we saw each other, you looked miserable." 

 His eyes widen in realization before a laugh bubbles out of his throat. Deep, rich like chocolate. 

"Back then, I was going through a lot." He sighs. "I was figuring out what I wanted. It...it was a tough time for me." 

You nod along, hoping you aren't forcing him to pry. However, the Suguru you're faced with now doesn't seem like that type of person anymore. He won't give if you press. He talks on his own terms. You never once thought of him as a pushover, but he's less open now. Perhaps it's because he's no longer a child. 

Suguru smiles then, a little more sincere than his first. 

"You know...I've always wanted to thank you." 

You tilt your head. "What for?" 

He plays with his empty cup like he's searching for the answer himself. "You gave me hope when no one else did. Everyone was so quick to tell me if I was wrong or right."

He leans back on his chair, eyes drifting towards the ceiling, "Other humans, they're always so enraptured by their own lives. You were the only person who reached out. At least, who cared enough to." 

The guilt from years ago slipped back into your throat. So he had been suffering. You should have done more. He was just a kid. They both had been. You could have done something. Maybe you could have saved a little more.

His hand finds yours on the table. They're rough, calloused. You can feel the scars. He squeezes your fingers. 

"Thank you," he murmurs, "For being an exception." 

You squeeze back. 

It's a tumultuous friendship, at first. It's much like a burn. Sensitive, it hurts at first. The wound is too fresh. Eventually, dead skin and memories fade away. You find yourself texting him. Once a week. Maybe a little more, if you get brave enough. 

Once, he sends you a picture of a white cat lounging in a sunbeam.

looks like Satoru, he types. 

(You stare at the caption for a long longer than necessary.)

It does, you send back.

You visit his temple once. He invited you, actually. A free tour, he had joked. It was beautiful. A large expansive garden filled with all types of flowers. The courtyard felt like it stretched for miles. That was just the outskirts of the temple. The building was something else entirely. A large ceiling. Expansive walls. White pillars that keep going higher and higher and higher. 

You notice his followers are everywhere. Most carry the same smile on their face. Bright, happy, cheery, but too strained. Like it's a job for them. It feels weird to say, but he fits nicely here. You think that because this wasn't the place you thought Suguru would end up. He dons the traditional clothing perfectly. Like they were made for him. They probably were, considering how high his reputation was. 

If he hadn't had the same face, the same hair color. You wouldn't have recognized him at all. He's managed to replace every single thing in his life with something new. It doesn't go unnoticed by you that you're the only thing he keeps from the past. A momento of sorts. You're a keepsake, for him. You don't mind the symbolism. You've always been easily flattered. 

You just failed to realize that not all of his feelings had changed. 

It was in front of your house. After, yet another visit to the temple (much at Suguru's insistence), he'd offered to walk you home. You would have declined if it wasn't so dark out. In the end, you accept his offer. 

"The girls have come to like you," Suguru says after a lull of pleasant silence. When you glance at him, you find his eyes on you. 

"Have they?" you prod. 

In all honestly, you didn't think they liked you at all at first. You don't have that much experience with young children, but you found it odd how unnerved Nanako and Mimiko seemed to get around you, practically hiding behind their father's figure, peeking out with untrusting eyes. Suguru had to gently coax them out with soft words, insisting that you were a close friend of his, you were 'different'. 

"Yes, they talk about you all the time," he continues, rolling his eyes in affection, "Mimiko especially gets very animated." 

Your heart skips a beat at his answer. You never felt one way or the other about children, but it felt nice when two little girls felt so highly about you. Those two especially. 

"It must be from all the sweets I bribed them with," you say, jokingly, "Please tell me I didn't cause them any stomach aches." 

He laughs, light and pretty. 

"It's not that," he responds, "it's because of you, mostly. You're different from the others."

You smile, but it's half-hearted, an attempt more than anything. It takes you a while for you to work up for the question. For some reason, you feel a bit nervous, like you're stepping on something you shouldn't be. 

"Different," you start, "you keep saying that. What does that mean? What am I different from?" 

He stops, just at the entrance of your flat. Suguru's fingers drum on his pants. You stare at him. He stares right back. 

"You are different, in so many different ways," he says, though it feels as though he's speaking to himself, rather than you. 

He takes a step forward. Tiny, he barely even moved. And yet, the distance between the two of you has vanished completely. 

"You've always been. Different from everyone else. The only one." You can't tell if he cut himself off, or if there was truly nothing else to say. 

It was barely a kiss. His lips brushed against yours, barely touching. Soft, like he cherished you the most out of all his possessions. The gentleness of it all is enough for you to freeze. 

Then his hand curls around your waist, and you jolt back into your body. 

You splay your hands on his chest, pushing him away until you have enough momentum to step back. His loose hold on you falls away. You can't look at him, even when you can feel his stare burn into you. 

"Suguru," you say, because you're mind is still running to catch up to your heart, "I-we-" 

Your name being called stops your babbling. You don't think he saw, god you hoped he hadn't. When you look over, he's smiling, so you don't think he did. He was never one to hide his feelings. Still, you step away from Suguru, ignoring how stiff the man had become. 

"Hey," you say, mostly out of relief because you couldn't deal with this anymore. When he wraps you into a hug and a chaste kiss, you wordlessly accept. Suguru's gaze on your back only gets stronger. 

"Who's this?" he asks, gesturing at Suguru. Your smile falters as you glance at Suguru. His face was blank. He wasn't even smiling anymore as he continued to stare at your man. 

"A friend," you say before Suguru can make this already worse, "and he was just leaving." 

"Oh," he says, before smiling down at you. Delightfully oblivious. 

"We'll talk later, okay Suguru?" You send Suguru a hurried smile before dragging him into your shared flat. 

You lock the door behind you. He says something just then, you laugh, trying so hard not to sense Suguru's presence through the door. You don't think he leaves. Not for a good long while. 

You don't speak to Suguru, after that. 

You wince whenever you see his name through your contact list now, as though even seeing a remnant of him is painful. You don't go to the temple anymore. Your communication with the girls turns nonexistent. 

Suguru hasn't said anything to you either. The line has grown dead both ways. 

You feel guilty, even though you know it wasn't your fault, you still can't help but wonder if you could have done something different. Did you do something that made him think you were interested? You probably had, knowing how unaware you could be, sometimes. You couldn't help but feel ecstatic when the two of you reconnected again. You'd been so excited for Suguru, happy for him because he'd finally found his way. You didn't know he still liked you after all these years. It was a schoolyard crush, at least, it was supposed to be.

Looking back, you didn't think you'd even told Suguru that you were already seeing someone. One blunder after a blunder. 

It must have been embarrassing for him, you can't help but think. Even when he was younger, Suguru had always held onto his pride dearly. You don't know if your friendship could ever be the same after this, but you'd like to extend the olive branch. If he'd take it. 

You tell your boyfriend about the incident eventually. You know it's not your fault, but you still feel like it is. He takes it well, once you explain, looking at you sweetly. 

"I could tell something was going on between you and him," he says, "but thanks for telling me." 

"You aren't mad?" you ask, half-afraid of the answer. 

"At you? Course not. Him, however"- he made a swing motion with his fist "-he does something like that again and I'll punch his lights out." 

You laugh, knowing it's a joke, giving him a chaste kiss on the cheek. He beams. 

It takes a week of radio silence to forget about the mishap. You're humming a song you've forgotten the lyrics to when you arrive at your apartment. Your boyfriend said that he was coming home early tonight. You'd planned something quiet for the evening. A movie, cheap drinks. 

"Welcome home." Suguru grins. You freeze. 

He sits on the couch, splayed out like he belonged there. He's not wearing his priest garment, now garbed with a simple shirt and jeans. It takes a minute for you to figure out what you're looking at. Slowly, you close the door behind you. 

"Hey," you say, hoping your tone doesn't indicate just off-put by this encounter you are.

Suguru doesn't seem to mind your reluctance. 

"He let me in." Suguru points to somewhere behind you. Oh, your boyfriend is probably in the bathroom. "He was such a nice man. You were very lucky." 

"Thank you," you find yourself saying, "I am." 

His smile grows bigger, and you wonder if there's a joke you aren't let in on. Like he's saying something that's going right above your head. 

When you take a glance behind you, your partner is nowhere to be seen. It makes you wonder if you should say something to Suguru right now. Mend the bridge that's shattered between you. Currently, he seemed to be in a good mood. 

"Suguru," you start, taking a tiny step forward. You twiddle with your fingers. 

"Listen, I'm really sorry for how things went the last time we met. I just-" He hushes you, putting a finger to his lips. 

"You shouldn't air out your affairs in front of him like that," he tells you, "you might hurt his feelings." 

What? You look behind you again. Nothing. 

Suguru laughs. It sounds off. Wordlessly, he points behind you again but angles his finger a tiny bit higher. You follow his direction. 

Immediately, you wish you hadn't. 

He's in pieces, scattered all over the ceiling. A hand is above the door, a leg is above the kitchen. It's like his appendages were chopped before being glued onto the ceiling. There's no blood, just body parts. 

The worst part was that he was still alive. His head was still attached to his torso, the only part of him that was still intact. His mouth was open, his eyes were wide, and it took you a second that he was trying to tell you something. Repeating a word over and over. 

Run. 

Your hand covers your mouth as you continue to stare up at him. What was left of him. You think your knees are threatening to give before Suguru's holding you up. You can feel him lead you towards the couch, sitting you down in the plush mattress. He curls an arm around you, letting out a sigh.

"I meant what I said." Suguru adjusts your hair. "He was such a nice man, for a monkey anyway."

It doesn't occur to you that Suguru had done this until he speaks. You'd known Suguru said he performed exorcisms in his temple. You didn't-you couldn't-

"You?" you can barely push the wavering words out, "you-how-Suguru-" 

He hushes you, drawing you closer to his body. You're completely dwarfed by him as he rests his head on your neck, breathing in your scent. You are barely coherent, sucking in air as your voice dissolves into sobs. 

"I would have liked it if things hadn't turned out this way," he sighs, "but I don't believe it would have turned out any differently." 

His tone is almost pitying. 

"You may be the exception, but you are still one of them. Unaware of the true hierarchy." Suguru hums. 

"That's alright. It wasn't your fault. You were simply born this way," he continues, "I don't mind teaching you." 

You wiggle, trying your hardest to get out of his grip. Suguru only clicks his tongue. A harsh grip on your waist is enough to still you. You can't understand what's going on, maybe you never will, but you know one thing. You let a monster back into your life. Geto Suguru was not the same person you knew when you were younger. 

Or perhaps, he was always this way. He was just better at hiding it, back then. 

"I'm sorry," you finally let out, "Suguru, I'm-I'm so so sorry. I'll do whatever-whatever you want. Anything just please please please-" 

"I'm afraid there's nothing I can do for him," Suguru doesn't sound too apologetic, "though, I could put him out of his pain. Would you like that?" 

You didn't need him to elaborate. Suguru would kill him. Or perhaps he was already dead. His moving eyes, his twitching lips, were all just muscle memory. The last of his brain synapses. There was no science, no magic, that could bring him back from this. 

And maybe, that tiny selfish part of you wanted to stop seeing his mangled body. 

You nod and you can feel Suguru's grin. He snaps his fingers. The thing disappears, vanishes into mist. 

"All gone!" Suguru declares. "There. Isn't that better?" 

You wince when he touches your face, brushing away the tears. You're too scared to do anything more. You don't fight when he kisses your neck. You don't fight when he kisses your jaw. You don't fight when he kisses your lips. 

It's with the same gentleness as the last time he'd kissed you, right outside of your apartment. Soft, warm, loving. 

You start sobbing then. Ugly, heaving, heartbroken. He takes it in stride, humming as he pushes your body down until your back is pressed on the couch. His lips brush your damp cheek. 

"There's no need to be afraid." Through your tears, you can see him smiling down at you. "The worst has passed. I'll take care of you from now on." 

The worst part about all of this is how honest he sounds. Like he truly believes he's doing this for your good. It makes you wonder who the delusional one is. Him or you. 

He's tuts in sympathy as you lay there, shivering underneath him.

"You must be so confused, poor thing." He tilts his head, the back of his fingers stroking your cheeks. "I should explain, shouldn't I? Unfortunately, I'm more interested in other things right now."

You must look horrible, but Suguru doesn't seem to mind, bending down, melding your lips with his. He sighs, like he'd waited eons for this. You stiffen when you feel his hands play with the band of your skirt. As if he can feel your beginnings of struggle, he pulls back, staring you down. Brown, almost black, eyes peer down at you. There's a hint of a warning curling on his lip. 

You still immediately. If he could do that, what could he do to you?

"None of that," he chides, and yet he's so painfully gentle about it, "be good." 

What was he? How did he do this? How could he? You want to ask them all but you can only get one out when you lift your head, getting your voice to work. 

"Why?" 

You don't know what you're asking. He clearly does. Another soft smile. You wish you could tear it off his face. 

"You were always the exception, even back then," He says quietly into the stale air of the apartment. His eyes drift and you wonder if he's remembering the you all those years ago, secretly passing pastries to him and Satoru, giggling at jokes only a highschooler could make. "The only one of the humans who didn't utterly disgust me." 

Fingers reach for the hem of your skirt, pushing it up your bare legs. 

"And it's natural, isn't it? To protect the exceptions, the rarities of the world," he says, "To keep them away from the impure." 

You start crying again. He patiently hushes you, kissing away your tears. This time, you don't bother putting up a fight. You just squeeze your eyes closed, flinching when he reaches to your inner thighs, feeling the cotton of your panties. His breath hitches. So does yours. 

He bypasses the cloth with two dexterous fingers. When he touches the skin, you flinch, trying to squeeze your thighs closed. It doesn't help. Suguru leans forward, you can feel his breath on your cheek as you shiver underneath him. He finds your clit, teasing it with a calloused thumb. You think you're mouthing it, even when you can't bring yourself to say it. Don't touch me don't touch me don't touch me. 

He doesn't listen. You don't know if he heard it or not. It didn't matter, either way. It wasn’t like he was planning to stop.

Despite how much you don’t want this, your body doesn’t listen. His touch is gentle, soothing on your pussy despite the horrors you’ve seen him do. It doesn’t take long for your cunt to adjust, dripping.

There’s a satisfied sigh above you and you know Suguru had felt it too.

One finger pushes into you. You gasp, curling your back, unprepared but Suguru’s giving a pleasant hum, easing you into it. Despite how humiliating this entire situation is, your one reprieve is being able to bury your head into his neck, keeping yourself there as he continues to have his way with your body. You can feel him kiss the crown of your head, an action that completely juxtapositions another finger entering your wet hole.

He’s gentle, but not slow. He fingerfucks you with earnestness, curling his fingers when your walls tighten around him. Your crying is interrupted by the reluctant moans and gasps every time he presses deeper into you, finding a spot that has you seeing stars behind your eyelids. You bit your lip, keeping the noises inward. He tuts at that.

“Don’t be shy,” he coos in your ear, “it’s okay to enjoy it. I want you to.”

As if to highlight his words, he gives another particularly intense push, you wince when you can hear the wet squelch of his fingers.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Suguru asks, “I could always be this nice with you.” You let out a squeak when his thumb presses against your clit, unable to keep it in. Suguru gives a breathy laugh.

His other hand starts to explore, reaching up to your button-up, flicking them off with a single-experienced hand. The bra you wore is barely seductive, but Suguru’s tracing the ends of it anyway, touching the fabric just by your skin before pushing the undergarment down.

Whether it’s from the air or his fingers fucking your pussy, your tits are already sensitive. You let out a breathy whine when Suguru grips on of them too hard, squeezing the fat in his large hands.

“So sweet for me.” You can hear the smile on his lips.

Everything becomes too much, and before you can think, your hand is shooting down, grabbing onto his wrist, squeezing as hard as you can, your nails digging into his skin. Your other is pushing against his shoulder. He barely seemed to even notice, holding you down with his weight, thrusting in his fingers all the way to the knuckle.

“Suguru I-” It’s supposed to be another plea for him to stop, but your weak voice calling out his name only seems to excite him further. His thumb dances on your swollen clit, his fingers never relenting until he’s pushing you higher and higher until you fall.

White hot electric pleasure snaps within you, forcing your body to jolt, as you curl up from the sofa. You think he’s saying something, words of comfort as though he could be any crueler, but you’re not listening. You came so hard you almost forget where you are, who you’re with. You can feel Suguru watching until you fall against the cushion again, utterly spent. Your grip slackens against his wrist, before falling away completely.

“See? Didn’t I say I’ll take care of you?” You don't even have the energy to glare at him.

He’s giving another laugh, kissing your cheek before he’s leaning back. His fingers slip out of you, and then there’s a sucking sound. You can’t help it, blinking open your eyes. Suguru stares back at you, eyes half-mast, a pink tongue flicking out to lick at his fingers before he puts them in his mouth completely, swallowing down the evidence of your orgasm. A lewd moan escapes him, muffled. You once again wished you hadn’t looked.

You’re already expecting it, but you still flinch when you hear the zipper loud and clear. He moves his jeans low enough to pull out his cock. He’s already hard, a bead of precum right at the tip as he gives a few cursory pumps. He’s big, you blearily realize. Despite the mind-numbing orgasm he’d just given you, you doubt it’d be enough to even take him.

“It won’t fit,” you find yourself whispering.

Suguru just hums in acknowledgement, giving you a knowing look as he finishes tugging off your panties. The fabric slides off your shaking leg before dropping onto the carpeted floor.

It’s too late for a fight, but you’re rising anyway, pressing your hands against the cushions, trying to create some space. Suguru is quick to shut it down again, leaning back into you as he palms himself some more.

“You’ll be alright,” he assures but it doesn’t help the panic the fear in your soul, “I cherish you too much to break you.”

With little effort, he spreads your thighs. His cock rubs against you once, twice, before entering your throbbing pussy.

Already it’s too much. He’s thick, stretching out your walls, threatening to rip you in half. You close your eyes again, squeezing them shut as the pain starts to edge a little too close to bloody. Helpless, your hand finds his shoulder, not pushing but digging your nails into his shirt. He purrs when you grip him tighter, moving until he’s seated fully into you.

He stays like that, keeping himself there as your walls squeeze him tighter. It’s almost a relief that it ended, but now, he’s taken everything.

“Look at me.”

His voice is rough, almost a rasp, an order. You find yourself obeying. Through your tears, you blink up at him, finding his gaze.

He stares down at you, a look of satisfaction in his eyes and you don’t think you are yours anymore.

He pulls back, your cunt tries to suck him back in, but he drags his cock out anyway until only his head is barely inside.

“Perfect,” Suguru murmurs as though it’s a secret not even you should hear, “absolutely perfect.”

You cry out when he pushes back in. It’s a gentle pace, slow and steady like he’s easing you into it. He’s being kind, you finally realize, a thought that makes your skin crawl. It’s so much worse than if he had been nasty. Harsh and biting with thrusts that would make your body sore and weak afterwards. If he was abusive, not caring about you, just his own pleasure. You wish Suguru was being mean, being cruel. At least then, you wouldn’t like it.

Despite the unexpected size, your body is adjusting. Pain ripples into reluctant pleasure, numbing your mind as his hips meet yours. It gets even worse when Suguru leans down, biting and sucking at your tits, enough for there to leave a mark. Something that will bruise and remind you of what he did.

“You don’t know how long I wanted this,” he’s saying somewhere above you but your head is swimming and you can’t focus where you want to, “how long I’ve wanted you like this.”

Suguru sits up again, grabbing one of your legs, hiking your hips up so his cock can go that much deeper inside of you. You babble something that you yourself can’t decipher. Suguru’s lips curl into another painfully soft smile.

“Ever since highschool,” he’s confessing like he’s a sinner and you’re his God but you know that isn’t true because what sort of god would be humiliated like this? “Remember that apron you wore?”

His hand reaches over, spreading over your pussy, stretching the fatty part of your cunt so he can have a better view of him disappearing inside of you.

“I always wondered what you’d look like wearing nothing but that on, spread out on the counter for me.”

He flicks your clit, and for the second time that day, you can feel yourself crashing. As though he can sense it, his thrusts shorten, grinding against your pussy and there’s a hand catching your chin, forcing you to look.

Suguru’s smile is gone, replaced by a snarl that promises to eat you alive. His eyes are blown wide, and he’s gritting his teeth, barely holding control by a hair.

“Come for me.”

You’re too far gone to do anything but listen.

You stutter in his grasp, arching your back, cumming with a breathy whine. It’s like a tide, pushing you out into sea, refusing to take you in. Unconsciously, the leg he holds tightens around his waist as you pulse around his cock.

He follows after, barely holding himself together, not when your cunt is milking him for all its’ worth. There’s a few particularly harsh thrusts before something warm and sticky fills your battered pussy before he's falling into you, pressing your body against the soft cushions.

You lay there, panting with him on top of you. Slowly, you come back to yourself, feeling your arms your legs. Your brain resets, and you’re suddenly remembering that you have a murderer’s cock inside of you.

Suguru’s face is buried in your neck. He gives a shaky kiss to your jaw; another on the corner of your lips. You can only stare at the ceiling, where the remnants of a body used to be.

"You know, the girls have always wanted a mother," Suguru's saying into your skin.

"I'm sure they will be very pleased with my choice."

[chaepink]

Requesting Sukuna getting off from being stepped on by mean!gn!reader 🥺

King of Curses? ha! | sub!sukuna ryomen

wc: 1.1k+ words | masterlist

dom!gn!reader, mean!reader, dick & ball stepping, degradation, hair pulling, mention of slapping, porn with no plot, footjob(?), ooc sukuna

note : this was going to be a drabble but i loved this idea sm

If you were told that you would have the King of Curses on his knees in front of you as you step on his dick, you would've laughed and think it was crazy. If anything, you would think that whoever told you was out of their mind. But when the very exact scenario is unfolding right this moment, you can't help but be glad it's happening.

You sneer at the man kneeling underneath you. Pushing your shoe harder against the bulge in his underwear, you watch as sukuna groans, his hands going to grab your leg but you swat them away.

"Don't touch me you fucking whore. I can't believe you're actually enjoying me stepping on you. Its fucking pathetic, really."

A small moan leaves him at your degrade and as you press your heels against where his balls are, sukuna's eyes roll to the back of his head and he lets out a groan. You grimace when you see pre cum seep through the fabric and onto your shoe. Great, now your shoe is ruined.

"Dont you dare cum without permission, sukuna." His breaths are labored as he stares up at you with hazy eyes and a red face. His clenched fists lay on his thighs, knowing that if he disobeyed your rules, you'll leave him right then and there for him to jack off by himself.

His bratty and cocky demeanor is long gone after only just some degradation and face slapping. A red hand print lays still visible on his cheek, the stinging reminding Sukuna of just exactly will happen if he's bratty. Now he's reduced to nothing short of a stupid dog, eager for any sort of pleasure.

With only his underwear left on him, Sukuna feels exposed to you, especially when you're fully clothed. The way there's already a wet stain on his underwear only adds to the shame he feels. Even if he tried to hide it, the bulge he has is painfully obvious to you. There's a cold breeze in the air and sukuna tries to hold back a shiver.

Mere moments before, all that was running through his head is how about how he, the God of Curses for fucks sake, was kneeling down to you, a mere human. You looking down on him is demeaning enough towards his pride and ego. Though he's not sure how he got into this position in the first place or how you even found him, it seems like the pleasure got to him and he feels too good to even care. After all, its been a while since someone has treated him like this and given him pleasure. The foreign feeling has his usual demeanor slipping away.

"And people think that the God of Curses would be the one in control in situations like these." You laugh, making sukuna flush an even deeper red. "Yet look at you here, kneeling in front of me, dick already hard and leaking as just from me stepping on you. You're enjoying this way more than I thought too. What a dirty mutt you are." You coo, grinning at him as he swallows at the dark look in your eyes.

"How about you thank me, hm? Since i'm being so nice to you for helping you get off." You raise a eyebrow at him, daring him to even question your order.

Instead, he stays silent and slowly leans against your thigh, rubbing his cheek against it. It seems like sukuna is too out of it to have heard what you said, only letting out a small whine at the close contact and the warmth of your body.

You quickly make him snap out of it by grabbing a fistful of his hair and forcefully yanking it back, pulling sukuna off your thigh and to stand on his knees. His face scrunches up in pain as his eyes shut, a pained whimper leaving him. His dick subconsciously twitches at the stinging, prickling sensation that's left on his scalp from your pull.

"Did you not hear me properly? I'll say it one more time for you, sukuna." You grind your shoe down on his dick and lean down until your face is right in front of his. Sukuna lets out breathy huffs. You narrow your eyes at him as he slowly opens his own, blinking slowly up at you with glassy eyes.

Fuck, the way you're glaring at him so intensely like that and how you're just so mean to him makes his orgasm approach faster than he thought. He would've never thought that he would be into this but the way his dick throbs every time you do something would prove him wrong if he said he didn't.

"Say 'thank you [name] for stepping on my dick.' You better say it like you mean it too or i'm leaving you here to fuck your own fist."

Sukuna quickly widens his eyes. No! You can't do that. You won't leave him to pathetically masturbate by himself, right? Though when he gazes into your eyes, he finds no sign that you're joking. Instead, you only narrow your eyes at him, your patience quickly thinning.

His pride and ego is on the line, of course he's not going to thank you for stepping on his dick! He never asked for this anyways. Thats what the thoughts in the back of his head is telling him to say but when he opens his mouth, the total opposite leaves instead.

"t-thank you [name for stepping on my dick." Sukuna swallows when you stay silent, deciding whether or not it was good enough.

Suddenly a grin appears on your face and he gets shoved onto the ground, making his hard dick slide out of his underwear and out for you to see. Your foot immediately goes back to step on his dick, making Sukuna let out a embarrassing loud moan, his back slightly arching off the ground.

Before you could degrade him again, you're surprised when cum suddenly shoots out of his dick and onto his chest. Some even makes it on his face, making the entire sight even more erotic. Sukuna lets out a whimper-like cry at the sudden feeling of his long awaited orgasm. But he soon realizes what he's done.

It seems like even he's surprised as he widens his eyes at you, not having expected to cum that quick. Disbelief is shown on your face and you furrow your eyebrows. Whether or not it was a accident, he came without your permission. And the thought of it makes him shiver at what you're going to do to him.

"are you really that pathetic that you came that quickly from me just stepping on you? and i thought you were supposed to be strong. turns out you're just a dirty whore that likes to be stepped on."

You lean forward, putting your weight onto your foot and effectively making him let out a choked groan at the overstimulation. The rough texture of the bottom of your shoe grinding against his dick quickly has it hardening embarrassingly quick. The look of disgust is on your face but a glimmer of something entirely else too, maybe its lust.

“i hope your ready, baby.” Your foot trails down his dick and press on his balls as you grin at him. “cause i've barely even started.”

ty for reading to the end! ❤ - chaepink

╰┈➤ masterlist | rules

[luveline]

Badass!reader in the verge of crying but still pretending like she isn't? Spencer doesn't even try anything and he just lets her be until eventually she cries? Just some hurt/comfort :)

If it's a no please feel free to ignore this! Have a lovely day jade <3

tysm! hope this is okay angel ♡ fem!reader, 1k

"Irresponsible, sloppy, and pig-headed." Spencer winces. "I expected more from you. I'm extremely disappointed." 

Spencer winces worse. You can take a scolding. You can take a beating. But disappointing the people you care about, and disappointing Hotch? His chest hurts for you.

He pretends to have been reading as the door to Hotch's office opens and you step out, glancing up as you take the stairs down into the bullpen. Your desk is adjacent his and Morgan's, crowded by case files you nearly send flying as you hurry into your chair. 

Spencer takes his computer mouse and clicks on the work contact page. Your instant messaging is still open, the last message he sent you glaring and awkward, hey, think hotch is going to call you in for cincinnati. don't stress. 

You'd opened it but not answered. He peeks around your monitors to analyse you. You're staring hard at a single spot. The longer he looks, the glassier your eyes become. 

He sighs and cracks his knuckles, thinking. The last thing you want is for him to make a big deal of this, he knows that, but he needs you to know that he's here for you. 

"Did you want to get dinner tonight?" he asks without raising his head. 

You respond eventually, two seconds too slowly, "Where from?"

Your voice is fraught with the weight of your upset. Spencer ignores it for now. "Luh Bem?" 

"If you want to." 

"What I want is a cup of coffee." He stands, still without staring at you —an impressive feat of self control— and begins toward the office kitchenette. Predictably, you follow him. He's already putting a second mug beside his own when you step into his reach. 

"So, did you want to go?" you ask. 

Spencer nudges your hip with his gently. "Duh. What else would I wanna do on a Friday?" He makes your coffee exactly how you like it without asking and leaves it billowing steam by his own as he adds his five sugars. 

Bringing his coffee to his lips and turns, he leans on the counter. You do as he does, murmuring a thank you as you pick up your mug. Spencer lets his arm rest on yours, ever so slightly taller, more as your back begins to slouch unconsciously. There's no point in asking you if you're okay, because you'll say that you are. There's no point in trying to comfort you, because, despite your affection for him, you're not someone who cries easily in front of others. It would have you pushing him away. 

You're a nice girl under all your hardened exterior, and Hotch's disappointment hurts. You try very, very hard not to cry, swallowing and taking little sips of your hot coffee. 

You press your coffee into his hand and turn your body toward the cabinets, away from the office. Spencer waits, and waits, his relief immeasurable as you finally hide your face in his shirt sleeve and sniffle. Even though his heart breaks for you, he's glad you're giving in. You need to let stuff out before it eats you alive. 

He puts the coffees down behind him one at a time so as not to disturb you. Hands free, he lifts the hand furthest from you to your arm. If you were somewhere more private he'd hug you to him by the small of your waist. For now, he rubs a short line down to your elbow. Up, down.

"He was being harsh," Spencer says quietly. 

"Sorry," you whisper. 

He can't imagine how mortified you are. You won't sob or even shake, but these hot and fast tears aren't unfamiliar to him. Theyll be followed by an abundance of remorse.

"What are you sorry for?" He pulls you in closer, a squeeze of a hug. "You're okay. It's okay, he's just– he's mad about other stuff, he's upset about Beth. It's not just you." 

"He's right, I messed up," you say, your breath hitching. 

"You messed up," he agrees. "It was an accident. You'll be better next time." 

You sniffle rough and lift your face, wiping your tears with a cruel hand. Spencer takes your wrist in his hand to stop you, turninh to cover you from any nosy eyes. His fingertips are as soft as his voice wiping the rest of your tears away as he laments, "Please don't cry, don't get upset." Your face is hot to the touch. "Don't be embarrassed." 

"I'm not crying," you say, a last teardrop streaking from the corner of your eye. 

He wipes it away. "Okay." 

You pout at him like you want to cry more, and Spencer wouldn't mind, he'd stand here wiping your tears for hours if you needed it, but that's your worst nightmare. 

"Are people looking at me?" 

"Nobody's looking," he answers honestly. "You're only making a scene for me." 

You laugh but quickly cough. Spencer takes his opportunity to hug you and pats your back, considers kissing the side of your head but can't make himself commit to it. 

"Do you still wanna get dinner?" you ask weakly. 

"Yeah, I do. I really do. I'll get you whatever you want." 

If it were Morgan offering, you'd step on his foot. For Spencer, your clear and evident favourite, you nod into his chest, your hand slinking low on his back. 

He hugs you so hard he feels his ribs. 

"Wanna sleepover and watch Golden Girls?" he asks, prepared for rejection. You're the type to lick your wounds alone. 

But maybe in the privacy of Spencer's apartment you'll let yourself be upset properly, so he can comfort you appropriately. It aches how badly he wants to rub the tight space between your shoulders, tell you it's fine, you're fine, and one mistake doesn't define you, it never could. 

It's evidence of your affection for him that you agree. "Could we get the dinner to go?" you ask. 

Spencer tries not to look to triumphant. He's going to coddle and comfort you half to death, and by the looks of you, you're happy to let him. "Absolutely. Whatever you want." 

[i-cant-sing]

Mmmhhh thinking about Yandere Batfam reacting to a reader who runs a very popular blog where she absolutely bashes Batman and Robins- and the batfam takes your criticism very seriously. Maybe not at first, but then Damian (the easiest to tick) got pissed off when you wrote how "he's just a kid in a cheap Halloween costume" and when Damian gets pissed off, he whines. He whines and whines and whines until Dick and Bruce finally listen to him and do something about it. That's when they find out about the extensive threads about them, criticising meticulously each and every action of theirs, how they're causing more financial harm to Gotham and allowing themselves to be idolised and causing more people to comit crimes just so that they could have their 5 seconds of fame with Batman. And ofc theirs a whole page about the Batsignal.

I mean, Damian and Tim have already found out who runs the page (though they had a little bit of a hard time sniffing u out. You were good at covering your tracks). While Damian and Tim are busy going to "have a talk with you", Bruce is at home reading your entire blog about Batfam and realising how some of your points.... kinda makes sense. So, he buys the app where you write your blogs, then has Damian bring you over to the Wayne offices, where he explains he just wanted to meet the person running the blog that generates the most readers on the app. You, just a 23 year old student who's blogging as a side hustle.

You're obviously stunned because why are you meeting Bruce Wayne and also confused because again, why are you here exactly??? Bruce just says that he likes your insights and would like to know more, and he's happy to pay you by the hour you spend talking to him and also on the blog.

He's very much determined to make Batman and Robins be good in your mind, and not that he cares much about what people think about him, it doesn't hurt to have good PR for heroes, lest people should try revolting against Justice league and only end up hurting themselves. There's only so much he could do to calm his metahuman friends.

You're again- CONFUSED, but you like money. The only thing you tell him is that you get to write whatever you want, complete creative control and that you can write about anyone you wish. Ofc, it doesn't register to Bruce that you could possibly write against his family- against his name.

So in the beginning, things are going great. Reader continues making calculated judgements and comments about Batfam and how they could possibly improve themselves, the batfam takes note and tries to do most of the things. Then you'd write something that could almost be seen as praise for "changing their old ways" and they all feel a little bit proud. They don't realise it but some members of the batfam (like damian and Dick) start craving your approval of their actions.

Perhaps something happens, maybe you don't find it fun to write about the bats anymore, so you shift your mind towards a new topic-

The Wayne's.

You research a bit, finding it a little odd at Bruve Wayne's generosity to be adopting random ass kids, a super duper clean record, no scandals or anything- it just- it doesn't feel right. No one's that clean. They have to be hiding something.

So when u can't find anything against them, you let your imagination go wild and start making conspiracy theories, kinda feel like reader goes in her gossip girl era to stir things up so that someone would come forward with something- anything.

Bruce's eyes almost bulge out as he reads the blog's headline-

"The secrets of Gotham's favourite billionaire playboy!"

Shit- did you figure out he's batman?

Nope. In fact, you covered everything but that. From theories about him adopting troubled kids for PR, to the Wayne family actually being a chauvinist cult, to conspiracies about his ties with the Rothschild, his philanthropic donations being a front for illegal activity, the Wayne Manor holding lavish nsfw parties, and even a classic "they drink virgin maiden blood!"

Bruce stood in your apartment, eyes narrowing at your sleeping form on the couch.

"Bruce? What- how did you get in?" You don't remember unlocking your door.

"What is the meaning of this?" He pulled up your article on his phone.

"Huh?" You took a closer look, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. "Oh. Yeah, I wrote that."

"Why?"

You shrugged. "I was bored."

"What?" Bruce could feel himself getting angry. How could you be so nonchalant about the lies you wrote?

"You know this isn't true." "I do." "Then why did you write it?" "I told you, I was bored. Besides, you told me I could write about anyone." You get up with a sigh. "I don't get why you're so worried about this. Barely anyone reads this stuff."

Bruce's brows went up. "There's a 1000 plus views on this already!"

"What?" your eyes twinkled. "A thousand already? Its not even been 24 hours since I posted. Wow, people really do enjoy conspiracy-" you shut up when you saw his glare. "Right, sorry."

"Take it down, now." Bruce orders, brow twitching when you just walk past him and into the kitchen, pouring yourself some coffee. "Why?" you asks after taking a sip.

He glares at you. "Because it isnt true-"

"Then give me something that is."

Bruce stared at you. Is this... is this your way of wanting an interview?

You sighed. "Look, just let me interview you family, I promise to only write the truth and only the truth. No conspiracies, I swear."

"Or I could just fire you. Better yet, have you sued for defamation."

You nodded. "You could, but honestly that would only bring more attention to the articles and more conspiracies would arise. Besides, you and I both know you cant stop me from writing even if I'm in jail."

Bruce watched you walk upto him, holding your phone in your hand. "Come on, just one week- one week at your place, I'll even let you read the article before I post it. If you dont like it, I'll delete it."

I mean... it did sound like a pretty good bargain. Besides, at his home, youd be in a more supervised space.

So here you are, standing in the lobby of the Wayne manor as a posh butler leads you to Bruce's office. Of course Alfred will be a part of your articles. He's too fancy to not be.

And so over the course of a week, you dont really find anything particularly intriguing about the family, even after you interviewed each member. You're mentally groaning at the thought of writing yet another boring article... that is until you accidentally discover the batcave (ok not accidentally, u hid a recorder in Bruce's office and u heard the man discussing about it with Dick)

Anyways, it didnt take long for you to discover the cave, and it took you even less for you to write a scandalous article.

"RICH MAN COSPLAYS AND PRACTICES HIS JUJUTSU SKILLS ON THE MENTALLY ILL! SEE PICTURES OF WHERE HE ROLEPLAYS IN MASKS!"

Unfortunately, before you hit "post", your phone is snatched and you're knocked out.

When you come to, Bruce is sitting in front of you looking beyond pissed while you're tied up in your seat.

"We had a deal, Y/n." Bruce gritted out.

"So? Deal was off the moment I found out you were Batman." You shrugged.

"We had a deal-"

"You really expect me to just pretend like I'm blind after I found out who you really are? Do you think anyone would just give up on a scoop this big?" You tilt your head at him.

Bruce narrowed his eyes at you. "Scoop? Thats what this is to you?"

You nodded. "Sure, you're a hero who fights crime and brings "peace" to Gotham, but who knows for sure? After all, thats how you want the world to see you." You lean as far as your restraints allow you. "I dont trust you, Bruce. Not one bit. There's just- this gut feeling about you. Nothing personal, but I dont get good vibes from you."

"Is that so?" Bruce raised his brow before sighing. "I guess there's no reason to let you go then."

"What?"

He nodded to himself. "Yes, if I let you go now, you'll only cause more trouble for me, but also for yourself. If you post content like that, people will target you- yes, I definitely cant let you go. You're an impulsive idiot who'd endanger herself just to not be bored."

Your eyes widen. "You cant kill me."

Bruce scoffed. "Dont be ridiculous, I can, but I wont. I just want to take care of you, protect you from yourself." He stood up. "I did a little bit of research on you too, yknow? You keep your personal life super private, I have to give credit to you, it wasnt easy to find out about your family. But... money makes the mare go."

Your throat dried as you saw a glint in his eyes. He knew... he couldnt-

Bruce's footsteps echoed as he neared you and ruffled your hair. "Poor you... having to deal with a schizoprenic mom." He leaned down to smile gently at you, but you could sense the sinister intent.

"Dont worry, she'll be taken care of at Gotham Asylum while you stay with us."

girl idk where i was going with this, i just needed to get it out of my drafts (i have another long incomplete draft about platonic yandere dick x gymnast reader where he basically is intrigued by this mini tonya harding who lives for her dead beat father's approval who doesnt give a shit about her unless she comes first. so its upto dick to adopt u and make u a part of batfam)

[starsinscript]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ rabbit princess ; op81

summary ; oscar gets decked out on stickers via your nieces, and you have a very 'serious' talk about kids.

"oscar stop moving!" your oldest niece squeals, the younger one intent on trying to get a sticker in exactly the middle of his forehead. they're both sat on his lap, his arms swung around them protectively as they place glitter-y stickers on his face. your younger niece nods her head, the shiny princess tiara sticker a little off center, but it must look perfect in her mind. she starts grabbing shimmery dog stickers, placing them like a wobbly halo around the tiara. the oldest is decorating his cheeks with kiss stickers and smiley faces.

"i can't believe he's letting them do this," your sister chuckles as you zoom in on oscar with your phone camera. he's got a bright smile on his face that you're thankful for, even though you already knew he liked your nieces. oscar raises his eyebrows when he spots you filming him, no doubt for blackmail against him. his cheeks get a little rosy, but then he's distracted by your younger niece almost falling off his lap. he catches her, soothing her nerves with a gentle hand running through her hair.

you end the video, stomach fluttering with something new. your sister smirks, "he's great with kids." you glare at her, "are you a little wine drunk? they can stay here if you need." your sister rolls her eyes, but the same smirk is on her face. "i bet you would love that. you can't lie that looking at oscar taking care of kids makes you think."

she notices the embarrassment that floods through you, and gently touches your shoulder. "you can talk to him, you know? i don't think he would let them sit in his lap that long if he hadn't thought about it." she reassures before sneaking off to the kitchen, where her husband is.

"y/n!" your older niece exclaims, grabbing your hand and pulling you toward your boyfriend. "we made oscar pretty!" she giggles, arms splayed out in presentation. oscar's cheeks are burning red, and he fights off a smile.

"doesn't he look so pretty?" your younger niece gushes, patting his head affectionately. oscar laughs, and you hide your smile behind your hand. "he looks very pretty guys," you compliment. "i like the tiara."

"i did that!" your younger niece gasps, her small hand patting the tiara. "because oscar's a pretty princess!" she grins, and you let out a laugh that has oscar's skin burning up.

"oh, yes. he's such a pretty princess. you did such a good job." you bring them both in for a hug, kissing their cheeks. "we gotta show papa!" the older shouts, grabbing her sister's hand and pulling her toward the kitchen.

"hi, pretty princess." you tease, sitting down next to oscar on the floor. he chuckles, "you're not gonna start calling me that now, are you?" you hum in fake thought, "i don't know... it kinda suits you, right?" oscar grins, kissing your cheek. you feel the stickers brush up against you and you giggle.

"you're great with them, you know? they love you," you add shyly, like it wasn't obvious. "i'm glad. i'd be a bit worried if they didn't," oscar laughs. you look at him oddly. "what?"

"i don't know. i was worried maybe you wouldn't like them? i mean, they're very energetic." you add, eyeing him for some sort of slip up. "they're great, no need to worry." oscar smiles, getting up from the floor as he hears them approach. you follow, and laugh at your brother in laws shock.

he laughs as the girls jump around, explaining their artistic design. they're quickly whisked home as it's getting closer to their bedtime, but they don't leave without hugging oscar. you almost melt at the way he crouches down to hug them, squeezing them tight and wishing them a goodnight.

you're cleaning up some dishes as oscar comes back from the bathroom, face freshly washed after peeling off the stickers. you look back and smile, and then he's pressing his body against yours, head tucked into your neck. he winds his arms around you, pulling you close. "you sleepy, oz?" you tease, a hand desperate to scrape through his hair. but you keep cleaning, laughing as he lets out a tired hum. "just one minute," you smile, getting to the last dish. you go quick, and as soon as it's placed in the drying rack you whisk him away to the bedroom.

he gets under the covers as you change and do your skincare, scrolling idly through his phone. as you leave the bathroom, he puts his phone on the nightstand. you lay against him, face squished in his chest. "have you ever thought about it?" he asks after a beat of silence.

"what?" you ask, the answer already floating around your mind. "kids, us having kids particularly." he commented, and you could imagine the little pout on his face as he finished. you giggle, "i'd love it, especially if they got your little rabbit teeth! they'd look so cute."

"right, my rabbit teeth. am i rabbit princess then? do i rule the carrots?"

"oscar piastri, princess of the rabbit hole. i can see it now."

notes made the convo a little unserious bc. happy father's day! i did not write this piece with that in mind haha

[asmosmainhoe]

hi i saw that you mentioned you’d do Obey Me Characters react to you being jealous and was wondering if you did it, cause i couldn’t find it 😅. and if not.. well i guess this is a request haha thank you 🫶

The brothers reacting to a jealous MC

Notes: Omg it's been yeaaaaars since I talked about that jsnsjqh I totally forgot

Gender: neutral

Warnings: none

Masterlist

Lucifer

Saying that he doesn't enjoy the scene that unfolds before him would be a lie. You're standing there with your arms crossed and a frown on your face, too proud to admit your jealousy

He might even tease you little bit and have that awful cocky grin form on his pretty lips. That frustrates you more than anything

"Don't be a fool, my love. As much as I take joy in seeing you like this I don't want you to feel insecure."

"I'm not insecure though. I trust you."

"I know, but nevertheless I want you to remember that you have no competition. You could never have competition."

Maybe it's his reassuring voice or the adoration that is oh so obvious in his eyes that makes the silly voice in the back of your head shut up. You believe him when he says that no one compares

Mammon

So many mixed feelings. On one hand he likes the thought of having his favorite person fight for him, but on the others he really doesn't want you to beat yourself up over this

Mammon is a party animal and incredibly outgoing so those traits naturally come with some side effects which is in this case an overly confident admirer. The same admirer who is currently experiencing the terror of a lifetime thanks to the deadly looks you're giving them

As much as a jerk your beloved boyfriend can be this time he's keeping his teasing comments to himself. On the contrary even. He's sending clear signals towards the other demon by displaying so much affection towards you to the point where you have to practically shove him off you. It still leaves you giggling and grinning

"What in Diavolo's name are you doing?!"

"What does it look like? I'm givin' ya the Mammon deluxe package!"

Leviathan

Of course he knows the feeling too well. After all he's struggling with keeping it at bay at the slightest interaction you have with other people. It's not his intention to hurt you or cage you in simply because he can't control himself

So out of all the brothers Levi is the one to react the fastest. He's already pulling you aside for a more private setting and tightly wraps his arms around you

"Please don't think anything of it! You're my number one and you always will be!"

The hug might or might not have been a way to hide his intense blush as he's saying those words. We all know that it takes a lot out of him

He will avoid the other person like a plague from that point on even if you stop being jealous of them. Someone only has to mention their name and he's jumping to his feet as if he got stung by something

Satan

He doesn't care about how others feel about him so when you first mention that he has an admirer he doesn't pay it any attention. You don't know if it relieves or bothers you to be honest

While Satan couldn't care less about such things he still does care how you feel in this situation. If you're uncomfortable with the way the other person is treating him then he will address it to them immediately

But beware! He thinks the problem is solved with that and most likely doesn't quite notice that it still bugs you. You literally have to bring it up to him, but don't worry. Everything after that is easy

"Please don't get this the wrong way. I trust you with all my heart, but I don't know...I guess I need some extra reassurance to be able to get passed it."

"No, don't apologize, my dear. I'll give you anything you need to have the issue solved."

Asmodeus

Us Asmo stans know that he comes with a price. The price being a comically large amount of fans who would kiss the ground he walks on

Usually you're not the type to be bothered by that, because you knew exactly what you agreed to when dating him and Asmo has done everything in his power to never let you feel insecure in this relationship

Unfortunately there is still this one specific person who you can't seem to stand at all. The thought of them alone turns your stomach upside down and has your blood boiling

Please feel more than free to bring it up to Asmo though! He doesn't want you to feel that way.

Since the beginning he's been doing nothing, but fight the allegations that he's not a loyal partner and only cares for one thing and you've been making sure that he knows how much you trust him

"I can tell them to step on the breaks and if they don't listen then I'll just be a bit more assertive."

"What exactly do you mean with assertive?"

"Don't you worry your pretty head, honey."

The next day this person magically vanished from all social media and for some reason Asmo doesn't want to give you any details, but you do know that his fanclub has something to do with it

Beelzebub

Like Satan he couldn't care less what other people feel towards him. He has his family and his own close circle that's all he really needs, but he's an extremely attentive boyfriend. Your sudden mood changes whenever this particular demon is mentioned or around don't go unnoticed

"Did they do something to hurt you?"

Beel-fight-mode is activated and he's looking around for that person, ready to knock the breath out of their lungs

"No, no! It's a bit...silly."

You're feelings aren't silly! They're valid! Just tell him what's going on and he will get to it immediately

If you need some extra reassurance after that then he's more than happy to cover you in love and affection

Belphegor

Is it bothering you enough to put up with his teasing? Don't give me that look. We both know that he's going to provoke the shit out of you

"Wow, is someone jealous?"

"I will punch you."

Yes, he will make you suffer for several days, but when he notices that you're genuinely hurting from it he will stop

He doesn't mind being rude to others to get his point across or to get you what you want. So, no. He's not breaking their heart. He's shattering it into million tiny pieces and stomps on the remains

Later that day when you two are cuddling in bed he's telling you that you're the only one for him as he drifts off to sleep kissing you

[pretty-little-mind33]

James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: You never intended to admit you would fuck James Potter. You hate him. Well, turns out you hate him a little less when he's touching you in ways you'd only dreamed of.

Genre: SMUT (nsfm), enemies to lovers 😘

Warnings: intoxication, swearing, mentions of spiking a drink, unprotected sex (but fr wrap it before you tap it besties), penetration, degradation, oral sex (m receiving), fingering, kinda dubious consent in the beginning? (James does ask for consent and reader agrees though!), kissing, premature ejaculation lmao

"Would you date James Potter?"

James lifts his head at the sound of his name and he smiles when he sees you and your best friend.

His eyes had been focused to you from the moment he saw you enter the Common Room. How could they not be when the way your dress hugged your curves had his pants feeling three sizes too small?

James's been making sure to keep an eye on you all evening. Just so you won't get yourself in trouble. If he counted correctly, the butterbeer in your hand is your fourth and he can tell just by the way you stumble on your heels that you're already tipsy.

Your eyebrows crease in the middle at your friend's question and James sits up on the couch, moving his arm from the cushion where Primalia (some Ravenclaw who won't leave him alone) sits. He wants to hear your answer clearly, although he thinks he knows what you'll say,

"I would never date James Potter?!" You slur loudly. James's smile turns into a smirk.

You're so goddamn predictable.

You down your drink, clearly annoyed by the question and James returns his attention to the brunette on his left. Primalia looks at him with her glassy, hazel eyes and sends him a sweet smile — which means exactly what James thinks it means.

But, he finds himself looking at you almost automatically and frowns when he sees a boy hand you another drink. Five, he counts in his head and his frown deepens when the same boy starts to snake his arm around to your lower back.

"Excuse me," James tells Primalia absentmindedly as he stands. Jealousy prickles at his skin as he stares at you and the boy.

Luckily, it passes just as quickly as it came when he hears you yell and the boy reluctantly turns away and decide to leave you alone.

Still, James continues to make his way to you and just as you bring your drink to your lips, he swoops his arm over your head and plucks the glass from your hand.

"What the hell?" You exclaim, spinning around. You look up at him, eyes flaming when you realize it's him as he takes a sip from your drink and then obnoxiously spits the liquid back into the glass. Your eyes widen with disgust and James can admit he enjoys how flustered you look a little too much.

"Potter," You grit and snatch your drink back, glaring at him.

James diverts his attention from you and looks at your best friend, who sends him a weak smile, and he salutes her with his hand. Then, he turns his attention to you and just as he's about to explain, he feels foamy liquid drip down his cheeks and over his nose as he squeezes his eyes shut.

James hears shushed laughter all around him as he realizes you just threw your drink in his face. He stands a little straighter and his jaw tightens. He runs a hand down his face, "Always a pleasure, Y/l/n." He mutters and opens his eyes just in time to see you stomp away from him.

He hides an amused smile as he takes off his glasses and wipes them on his sleeve.

"I don't understand why you continue to try, mate." James hears Sirius suddenly laughs from next to him and pats his shoulder, "She hates you."

James shakes his head, "Nah. She thinks she hates me, but she doesn't. Not really."

"She threw her drink at you." Remus, who is standing next to Sirius, points out with a smile.

"Yeah, because I spit in it." James retorts nonchalantly.

Sirius and Remus look at each other, confused and distraught, "Prongs, that is not how you flirt with someone—, " Sirius starts to explain hesitantly, but James just laughs.

"I think that jerk put something in her drink. It tasted funny." James barely explains and adjusts his collar, "Jus' wanted to make sure she wouldn't drink it—keepin' her safe, y'know."

Remus shakes his head in amusement, "You do the stupidest things, James, but somehow they almost always end up being the right reasons."

"Thank you?" James sends his friends a lopsided smirk and absentmindedly wipes his wet hands on the front of his blazer, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna find the loo and clean up. I don't want to smell like beer all evening. Can you guys keep an eye on her, ya?"

Remus and Sirius look at each other again, very clearly exhausted by their friend's antics, but promise him they'll watch over you anyway.

* * *

Your hatred for James Potter began in your first year when he and his friends caused an explosion in Potions that intentionally turned your hair lime green for a month.

You'd understandably been upset about the incident and because of this James, more than the rest of the Marauders, found out it was endlessly entertaining to pull his favorite pranks on you.

Even now, in your last year of school, James still insists he loves how deep the wrinkles between your eyebrows crease and how flustered you always look whenever he really annoys you.

You loathe him.

Your hands tremble in anger as you pour yourself some punch in a new, untainted by Potter lips, glass. "He's so fucking infuriating." You slur.

"Sure, but you must admit he's super bloody hot." Lily randomly points out from behind you and you almost choke on your fruit punch, "Handsomest guy in our year, I'd say." She grins.

"Gross." You scrunch your nose and lean on the table, "Remus is cuter."

"Yeah, and Sirius Black is hotter." Your best friend, Izzy, adds quietly, her chubby cheeks pink.

Lily rolls her eyes and chuckles, “So you wouldn't fuck him, Y/n?” She raises an eyebrow at you.

You all turn silent. Sex with James Potter? Sure, you'd had your fair share of wet dreams where he was, unfortunately, the one to fuck you senseless — but you would never admit it.

Or, at least you wouldn’t if you weren’t completely shit-faced.

"Oh, I'd fuck him. I'd just have to do it with my eyes closed so I wouldn't have to look at him," You feel extremely proud of your joke until you realize your two friends' faces have become pale as their eyes fix on something behind you.

"You'd do what with our boy, Y/l/n?" A familiar snicker comes from near your shoulder and you freeze. Even as drunk as you are, you know you messed up.

You chew on your lip a moment, deciding you can stand your ground, and then you turn and narrow your eyes, "Tell him and I'll make sure to cut your dick in half, Black." You hiss.

Sirius puts his arms up and smirks. Remus, who stands next to him, looks at you sympathetically, "Sorry, doll, but Jamie will be over the moon to know you'd actually shag him." Sirius says.

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment and you try your hardest to take back your words, "I wouldn't want to touch James Potter even if it was with a pool-stick." You retort.

"Ouch," Remus mutters, "We definitely won't tell him that."

Lily interrupts, "Just leave us alone, you guys are pricks." She sounds exhausted and annoyed, "This was a private conversation."

"Sorry, Evans, no can do. We're supposed to look after this one," Sirius looks at you but Remus digs his elbow into Sirius's side, "Ow." His dark haired friend scrunches his nose but then his eyes round when he realizes what he’d said, "I mean —"

"Me?" You ask and then you realize, "Potter asked you to look after me, didn't he? Merlin, he's the absolute worst. I don't need babysitters," You whine and you can tell both Sirius and Remus look a little guilty at your annoyance.

"You can tell that wanker I am leaving and that he can suck it," You tuck some hair behind you ear and finish your punch in one sip, 'Oh, and if one of you tells him I said I would fuck him, I'll cut off his dick as well as yours." You point your index at them and the boys swallow.

They don't speak for a moment as you walk away with your friends. Sirius breaks first, "Is it wrong that I'm turned on?" He whispers.

Remus instantly slaps the back of his head, "Yes. You're disgusting."

Sirius frowns at his best friend, "I'm kidding. Y/n is James's girl, remember? He called dibs on her since first year."

"I remember." Remus rolls his eyes, "But, she isn't exactly his girl, is she? She can't stand the poor bloke."

"I mean, James's girl or not – she does want to shag him." Sirius shrugs.

"Who wants to shag me?" James cuts in from next to them, his blazer damp the water he's used to wipe the stench of beer from his clothes. He's also found himself another drink. Remus and Sirius freeze.

"No one." Remus mutters quickly, avoiding James's eye.

"Moony," James warns, "Tell me."

Remus stays silent but James has turned his attention to Sirius. Sirius, who can never keep his mouth shut.

"It's Y/n. Y/n wants to fuck you."

"Bloody hell, Sirius!"

* * *

You wake up with the worst hangover of your life. You can barely remember what happened until Lily reminded you.

"I said what?!" You cry as you frantically comb your hair.

"You said you'd fuck him," Izzy points out as she pins her hair behind her ears with barrettes, "With your eyes closed, mind you." She smiles.

"I would never fuck him!" You stare at yourself in the mirror, ashamed you had admitted you'd fuck someone you hated so much.

Lily looks at Izzy and they don't seem convinced, "Okay, sure. It doesn't matter, come on, we have Potions in less than ten minutes." She hurries you out the door.

Potions. You've hated that class since first year. You especially hate it this year because James and Remus sit next to you and your partner.

You are happy it's not James and Sirius, because that would be even more annoying.

This morning you try very hard not to look at James. Usually, you'll send him an occasional glare when he makes an obnoxious comment but today, you don't even lift your head at the sound of his voice.

"Hey, Y/l/n." James calls but you ignore him. "Y/n." He tries, but still no answer. "Y/n/n?" He teases and is rewarded by your frown and glaring stare.

"What do you want, Potter?" You snap, pausing your concentration on the potion you're currently making. James leans one hand on your desk and, licking his lips, he points to the jar of worms you have next to you.

"Can I borrow that?" He looks at you with his famous puppy-dog eyes. You feel your stomach flip and pretend it's because you want to puke.

Thalia, your partner, immediately slides the jar towards James and bats her pretty eyelashes at him, "Here," She says sweetly.

Now it's definitely because you want to puke.

James doesn't look at Thalia as his eyes fix you, "Thanks, love." He says to her but smiles at you and then returns to his desk. You follow him with your eyes and scoff when you see Remus tap their own jar of worms on their table. James shrugs with a smirk.

You want to strangle him.

Once Potions is over, you almost run out of the classroom. Usually, James and his friends find a way to annoy you on your way to Charms but not this time. No, this time you ditch Lily and Izzy and take the longer way to class. The one with the usually empty corridor and echoey walls.

You hum along as you walk, completely unaware of a presence behind you until you feel a hand clasp around your arm.

You don't have time to think of screaming as you're pushed against the wall, someone's body pressed against your back as your left cheek hits the cold brick. Your leather bookbag slips down your shoulders and onto the floor with a thud.

"Say the words and I'll leave," An all too familiar voice whispers into the shell of your ear and your initial fear is replaced by annoyance and a hint of arousal — which you hate yourself for.

"Potter." You breathe out, feeling his hold loosen a little but his body presses into yours a little more. You shut your eyes and sink your teeth into your lower lip,

"A little birdy told me someone has naughty dreams about me," James mocks, his voice low, "Is that true?"

You frown and then struggle against him, "You're absolutely delusional." You hiss, hiding how turned on you are.

"Am I?" James chuckles and then his hand starts to wander up and down your side and you suck in your breath.

"Y-yes." You say, voice quivering.

"I love how quickly you turn into putty in my hands, Y/n." James chuckles and your core aches. You wince. What is wrong with you?

You're supposed to hate him, not want him.

James rolls his hips into your ass and you let out a gasp, "James!" You use his first name and he pauses, "S-someone could see us." You try to reason and your chest heaves.

"No one walks by here," James breathes down your neck, his hand squeezing your waist as the other pins one of your hands to the wall, "And, classes have started by now."

You realize he's right and start to fight against him again. James loosens his hold, "Do you want me to let you go?" James asks seriously and you can tell if you did want him to walk away, he would — no questions asked.

"Or, do you want me to touch your pussy and make all those wet dreams you have come true." He sounds cocky and you frown, wanting to wipe the grin you know he's wearing off his stupid face.

"I have a feeling your panties are soaked already." You feel embarrassed, knowing James is entirely correct. You're so turned on you can barely think. You don't know if you want to curse Sirius and Remus for snitching on you, or thank them.

"Fuck you." You manage to hiss but you have stopped your very weak attempts at resisting James's advances. Perhaps you've wanted him to fuck you more than you thought.

"Tsk tsk, language, darling." James laughs in your ear. His hair tickles your neck and you shiver, "Here, I'll tell you what, suck me off and then I'll fuck you exactly like you want."

Your breath hitches in your throat as James spins you around and pushes you down onto your knees. You let him and then look up. He smirks down at you and runs his hand along your cheek up to your hair — which he takes in his fist and you moan.

"Merlin, you're a slut, aren't ya?" James chuckles, eyes dark with lust and your core throbs.

"Don't call me that," You still snap. James's hand falters in your hair and you realize that he's beginning to doubt you want this. So, you smile at him and decide to tell him you do. "Potter, if you're trying to impress me, so far all you've done is prove you're all just bark and absolutely no bite. Is this the best you can do?"

James smirks at that and then holds your hair tighter, "Unbuckle my jeans," He demands and you do so quickly. When you see him you have to admit you're a little surprised James's confidence is warranted.

"Well? Suck." James interrupts your thoughts. You roll your eyes and take him in your hands. You run one hand along his dick for a moment, earning a small moan, and then take him into your mouth.

You enjoy the control you have as you suck his dick, bobbing your head up and down. You occasionally look up to admire the look of pleasure contorting his features.

James curses under his breath and then, suddenly, he's completely face fucking you. You gag, tears brimming as your throat opens wider.

"Shit," James groans. He's lost in pleasure.

You hold onto his thighs as he fucks your mouth. You're taken by surprise when, without warning, he comes and you almost choke on the salty liquid.

James lets you go once you've swallowed and you recover with a small cough. A little disappointed, you wipe at the sides of your mouth.

"Stand up." James orders, his voice hoarse. You look up at him, confused.

"Excuse me?"

"What? You think I'm done with you? I still haven't fucked you."

You stand slowly, "But you just came?" You stutter.

James tilts his head and smirks, "And?" He takes your cheeks in his hands and kisses your forehead quickly. You don't have time to be surprised by the intimate gesture because he's spinning you around and pinning you to the wall again. James holds one of your hands near each side of your head, "I'm not satisfied until I've fucked you senseless, Y/n."

Your eyes flutter shut as you feel him kiss your neck. One of his hands teasingly slides down to your stomach and then under your shirt as he untucks it from your skirt, "Keep 'em up." He mentions your hands when he feels them slip and you keep them pressed to the wall.

James starts to knead the flesh of your breasts over your bra, his fingers occasionally flicking your nipples. You bite your lip. When you feel him harden against your ass again, you let out a small moan.

"Tell me how much you like this," James whispers, his lips near your ear, and your stomach tightens.

"Cocky much? I've had better," You say, wanting to push his buttons. With one last pinch to your nipples, James's hand abandons your breasts and instead travels into your panties. You suppress a moan when he easily glides a finger across your pussy.

Smirking, James brings them to your lips so you can taste yourself, "Wanna try that again?" He asks as you suck on his fingers. His hand then comes down to your throat and he squeezes lightly.

Stubbornly, you shake your head

"No?" James pushes his hips into yours and squeezes your throat harder, "Fine, I'll just have to make you admit it then and trust me, Y/n, I won't be satisfied until you're screaming my name.”

You moan again, your face feeling incredibly hot when James starts to bunch up your skirt into your panties, "Merlin, you're so fucking pretty." He compliments, squeezing your ass and you smile.

However, when you feel him start to push your panties to the side you panic, "Wait!" You cry and James retreats his hand immediately, moving away from you. 'I- I'm a virgin." You whimper, embarrassed.

James backs away a little and asks, his voice calm, "You said you'd had better?"

"I lied."

"Okay. Shh, you're okay. Want me to stop?" He asks softly.

You chew on your lip and shake your head. You feel warm and fuzzy all over, "Can I- can I see you?" You ask, your voice small.

You hear shuffling behind you, "I thought you didn't want to look at me," James teases with a hint of a smile.

Your cheeks burn, "Please, James."

Gently, he turns you around so you're resting the back of your head on the wall and your hands press on his chest. You look at him in his beautiful eyes and your heart flutters. Lily was right, James Potter is really really handsome.

James sees you staring and grins, "Better?"

You nod and his hand hesitates at your thigh, "May I?" He asks and you whisper a quiet yes. You shiver when he takes your thigh and wraps it around his waist. Once more, he uses his other hand to push your panties aside and then you feel him press his tip at your entrance.

You inhale, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you prepare for the pain. James's voice soothes you, "You're okay. No one's gonna hurt you, it's just me." He whispers.

You feel him stretch you open and you cry out into his shoulder, "Yeah, but I don't like you." Your voice is a little muffled.

James breathes deeply and whispers, "It's okay not to hate me anymore, Y/n. I know I've done some hateable things but — " He curses at how hard you're squeezing around him, "I've changed."

You feel pain and you squirm a little, "Ow — I frankly don't care about that right now. I — James, it hurts."

James stops. He doesn't pull out, afraid that will also hurt you, but he does wait, "I'm sorry, love. What do you need? What can I do?"

You wipe your tears on his shoulder, "Just continue, Potter." You order, wanting this to work. You can't imagine letting him walk away now.

James listens and when he's finally all the way in and he starts to move, the pain quickly starts to disappears. "I- it feels nice now." You tell him breathlessly.

"Yeah?" James's thrusts are slow and he's looking at you sweetly. You hug him closer as his cock drives into you and makes you feel so unusually full.

You squeeze around him and he groans. He starts to pepper kisses onto your neck and with every thrust he presses you further into the wall, "There you go, sweetheart, squeeze around me. Show me how much you like me. Is this what you imagined when you were alone?"

James's pace quickens, "Did you come on your fingers moaning my name?" He seems lost in his own world as he mumbles obscene, filthy, questions in the shell of your ear.

"Y-yes." You admit and you let the feeling of his cock overwhelm you.

"Tell me." James suddenly squeezes your cheeks in his hand, forcing you to look at him, and his voice becomes raspy. He's fucking you with no mercy now.

"I touch myself thinking of you." You admit.

"Yeah?"

You nod and let out another moan when James lowers his hand and rubs lazy circles onto your clit.

"Look down at what I'm doing to your pretty pussy," He snaps and you lower your eyes. Your cheeks burn as you see James's cock disappear into you. "Merlin, you're mine now. Molded just for me." He whispers with a smirk.

You groan in approval and whimper, "Harder."

"Hmm?"

"Harder." You punctuate your words and moan loudly when James complies. His hips snap into yours with more precision and every time you feel him, that tightness in your stomach worsens and your vision starts to blur.

James lets out a breathy moan, "Shit, I'm gonna come." He continues fucking you until he comes inside you. However, his thrusts don't falter until he feels you squeeze around him one last time.

Your skin tingles from your orgasm as you let your head drop onto James's chest and your hands clutch at his arms. All you can focus on is your raspy breaths as James shuffles with his clothes, drops your leg, and then gently adjusts your panties as he unbunches your skirt from inside them.

You make a sound of disapproval when James holds your hand and walks you to the girls bathroom not far away from where you were. He opens the door and motions you inside with his head. You look at him with a frown, confused.

"You gotta pee." He explains softly.

Your frown deepens, "No I don't." You argue, feeling defensive.

James shakes his head with a small smile, "No, love, you really gotta pee. Trust me." You look into his eyes. Trust him? Your cheeks feel warm.

You decide it's no use arguing and you leave him outside the bathroom door. As you sit on the toilet and you stare at the floor, fear starts to bubble inside your stomach.

What have you done?

And why don't you regret it?

After you've washed your hands and swished some water around your mouth to dull the taste of cum, you exit the bathroom and James pushes himself off the wall and steps in front of you. "You okay?" He asks genuinely, a concerned look on his face. You look at him blankly, feeling all sorts of complicated emotions. James rubs his nape, "Listen, I-"

"I know. It was just the spur of the moment." You interrupt him.

James's eyebrows scrunch, "What?"

"I don't want this to happen again either, if that's what you mean." You state. You don't understand why James looks so hurt.

"Oh? I-Is that what you want?"

You blink. Is this what you wanted? No.

You nod and the glimmer in James's eyes disappears, "Well, that isn't what I want," He says. He looks so serious it feels like you're talking to a completely different person.

James walks closer to you and you let him. Delicately, he cups your cheeks in his hands and you look at him. His eyes flicker to your lips, "Y/n, tell me you hate me and I'll leave you alone. I won't even breath in your direction anymore. Tell me you want me too and I promise I'll make up for all those years I made you hate me."

Silence.

"I don't hate you," You whisper, surprising yourself for admitting that aloud, "I've never really hated you," You roll your eyes subtly, "I don't think I'm capable of hating you."

James smiles, "I couldn't hate you either."

You turn your head slightly, James's hands restricting your movement, and frown, "Then why were you such an asshole all these years?" His smile disappears and his cheeks dust pink.

"I don't know," His words die in his throat, "You made me nervous and I- I didn't know how to approach you properly. There is no excuse, I know. I was an idiot and I'm sorry." He looks into your eyes, "I'm really fucking sorry and all I want to do want to make it up to you. I'll do anything." He sounds so sincere you don't know what to think.

"James," You whisper and your hands come to brush against his forearms, "Kiss me." You say, realizing that after all you've done you haven't kissed him.

"Huh?" He makes a breathless sound, his eyes flickering to your lips.

"I said, kiss me." You say, a little harsher this time.

James doesn't waste anymore time and when his lips touch yours, you think you must have imagined them because of how delicate they are. His thumbs starts caressing across your cheeks as his lips move over yours.

You grip his arms harder and then clutch at his shirt as you kiss him with more dedication. More passion. You bite his lip lightly. "Bloody hell," James mutters as he takes a breath. His lips are bruised and his cheeks are now stained crimson. With a smile, you pull him back in and kiss him again.

You kiss him as if you'd been best friends for years. As if you'd explored each other's bodies more than just this once and you know each birthmark on each other's skin.

You kiss him like you like him — which, it's time to admit that you do.

[simpjaes]

enha is desperate horny losers 🔛🔝

i know you probably didn't ask for this but idc

hyung line being desperate and horny

warnings: one mention of piss, virginity loss, mdni

★ heeseung:

sure, he can be desperate. an utter mess, really. eyes empty, cock so fucking hard just looking at you anytime you're around him. as if you don't know he wants you, him knowing you fucking do.

you tease him so aggressively and it pisses him off knowing he can't have you. he's not allowed, or some shit. fuck bro code. he could give less of a fuck that you belong to sunghoon right now, by next week it'll probably be some loser like jake or something.

never him though, for some reason.

he's so tired of going home all alone, fucking his fist right up against his apartment door because he can't manage to make it to his own bedroom before needing the touch. so desperate for you. so goddamn horny out of his mind that he genuinely thinks he might just fucking kill himself if you don't spread your legs for him for real within the next three minutes.

always trying to lure you, always always always wanting you to break before he does. after all, anyone can see you want him too. you just like to play games and he's sick of it. perhaps he's willing to lose this time, if just to get your legs spread around him.

it wouldn't really be a surprise to you by the time you make your way to his place yet again, in that same outfit that you know drives him up a wall. you know you're walking into a lion's den when you step inside. he's already hard, staring at you with narrowed eyes.

"you know exactly what you're doing walking through my door dressed like that." he'd comment. "you think i won't do it, don't you?"

you'd laugh. you'd brush him off. you'd ignore every passing comment thinking you can still tease him, thinking you can still walk away like you're doing nothing to him at all.

it's not a game to him at this point though, because he made himself very clear throughout the day with little comments. little aggressive touches. little degrading remarks. and by the time you think you're safe to leave? oh, no no.

"where do you think you're going?" you'd hear him rush up behind you. "i told you."

he did tell you, and you still stayed.

"Sunghoon's going to kick your ass for acting like this, you know."

"Still trying to make fucking jokes?" He'd rumble the words in a tight voice, slipping his hand straight between your legs from behind and feeling the mess you hide from him time and time again.

"You always this soaked for me or did you just piss yourself in my kitchen?"

"Sunghoon-"

"Fuck Sunghoon." He'd say as if it's the last words you'll ever hear. "This-" he grabs your cunt, his fingers pressing your panties into your hole. "is for me, isn't it?"

☆ jay:

it's not even embarrassing anymore. with the way you know jay wants you and you still pretend like he doesn't. like this friendship is normal and not at all filled with an immense amount of sexual tension.

like you didn't makeout with him at jake's party last weekend, whispering drunken words over what you'd let him do to you.

honestly, it wasn't anything more than a simple friendship before that happened. he isn't sure whether to curse the strong drink or thank it.

you've acted like it never happened since that night but he, oh, he can't stop fucking thinking about those filthy words you whispered up against his ear. "come on, jay, all those study sessions? i keep my legs spread just enough for you to slip your fingers down-" and "could take me to the bathroom right now and do whatever you want."

he's pissed that he didn't do it. then again, you were drunk and so was he. he probably wouldn't have been able to make his way to the bathroom that night without crashing his head through a wall, in all honesty.

oh, but now. as he sits during another study session with you plus two other people who could give less of a shit. you were right in saying you always keep your legs spread for him. he never noticed it too often before, but considering he can feel your thigh pressing against him? maybe you really do want him to slip his hand down. maybe you really do want his fingers.

goddamn.

he hasn't gotten his dick wet in months.

still, you act like what you said at that party never happened at any other time. still, you sit like you hope he remembers it. and, well, he's desperate enough at this point to at least try. right there in front of the group.

his hand slips to your thigh, and his brain is no longer focused on formulas. instead, he's entirely in his head about the little shocked jolt your body does in response. he almost pulls his hand back but he can fucking feel your skin prickle under his palm. it's enough to keep his hand there, petting up, up, up.

his hands are shaking when he looks at you, cock twitching and weak in his pants just like his brain every time you make eye contact with him. you spread your legs a little more as he looks at you, urging him to keep going. unfortunately, the poor guy looks like he's holding back due to the, uh, situation regarding the two other friends in the room.

you're quick to jump up on your feet. fucking finally he's picked up the hints.

"i'm going to the bathroom." you say as you lay a hand on his shoulder, only directing the words towards him at first before looking up to your unsuspecting study group.

jay isn't going crazy right? that's an invitation, right?

and, well, he doesn't fucking care at this point to make himself look a fool. he stands up before you even close the bathroom door and dead-pans at the poor souls about to hear him lose his goddamn mind on you.

"I'm gonna, uh, you know-" he starts, pointing his thumb to the bathroom and watching the curious onlookers swap their faces to something that is...knowing.

"yeah." he admits now, standing with a proud hard-on and rushing his way straight the bathroom and opening the door.

There you are, already up on the counter with your pants fucking gone. He's so fast to slot himself between your legs, not thinking twice before attaching his lips to you in a desperate attempt to quiet his thoughts.

"took you long enough," you'd chuckle into his lips, feeling his desperate hands fucking tear your panties off of you before sliding in without so much as a moment of foreplay.

you both were anticipating this though. and god, did the wait make it feel so much better.

★sunghoon:

sunghoon will never defeat the allegations of being "too polite". which fucking sucks because no girl will come for him unless they're looking to get married within the next six months.

god, it's such a fucking issue. his scene isn't exactly to go out and hunt for girls to fuck but at this point he might just have to. fuck all those people who talk so highly of him. (literally, if he could at this point.)

"oh! sunghoon is such a good guy! he'd be the perfect boyfriend!"

"don't even waste your time trying to sleep with sunghoon, he's too serious to play around like that."

"he's too nice to fuck you the way you want, really, go for someone like heeseung."

because of all that praise towards him, he hasn't gotten laid in close to a year. no party he's attended has yielded results, no study sessions with pretty girls even when he tries to make a move, no pussy is willing to spread for a man who seemingly would treat it right.

fucking rude.

"jay, please."

the roommate rolls his eyes, grimacing at the very idea.

"why her?" jay shoots back, holding his phone so tightly, all while sunghoon grips his wrist as if he's gonna rip it clean off his body.

he needs that fucking phone.

"you said she was a real slut, i need this. please. I won't even clean her up after."

jay can see the desperation in his eyes, though he didn't entirely need to considering his roommate has been parading around with a desperate boner for the better part of six months.

"she's my ex girlfriend." jay scolds, ripping himself from sunghoon's grasp.

"exactly!" he shouts back, trying to plead his case. "she had like, what? six dicks not including yours when she was with you? why can't I just-"

"what makes you think i'd help you now after saying that?" jay rolls his eyes again, but he knows well enough how it feels to have heavy balls and no girl to empty them into. "anyone but her."

sunghoon's eyes light up when he looks at his friend, and it's not even a full ten minutes later before he's got a list of potential fucks recommended by jay himself. sunghoong does have to ignore the hateful looks after the fact, but decides he'll just apologize later for...you know, trying to go for jay's ex.

why he didn't do this sooner though? well, he really thought he'd be able to get some girls to come to bed with him on his own by now, unfortunately, he's grown far too pathetic to keep trying on his own.

jay's truly a great friend. just yesterday sunghoon was jerking off a solid eight times just to satiate the need and now he's got four of the six girls texting him back.

god, he was so gross about it too. barely even introduced himself, just sent a selfie and a small line of "been looking for a pretty girl to hang out with, jay say you might be interested."

going from 0 choices to 4 choices felt insane, honestly. sunghoon nearly cums in his pants at getting a "yes" from the prettiest one. and it only took an hour for him to hear jay greet you awkwardly. like he didn't have his dick in you just last week.

and goddamn is it great for him. he barely lets you into his room before his hands are just fucking....going. straight up your shirt, his lips go straight to your neck, cock immediately on your thigh and pulsing.

you're not too upset about it, really. you both knew what this was gonna be, and there was a reason you didn't wear panties. then again, who would? you saw his selfie, that alone was enough to get you to meet him pretty much anywhere.

and that desperation in him really showed. it bubbled up in the form of frantic, hard, fast thrusts. he chased and chased the pleasure, not at all giving you much love through it. not that you needed it, the guy gives good dick. It's all you can really ask for during a hookup.

and he keeps going, and going. so much cum to give, so much stamina. to the point that after the second session of sex, he starts to feel more like himself.

the sex gets better, less frantic, and he's more careful about how he's already made you sore. his hands are softer, he starts talking, he starts playing with you, appreciating you for letting him use you previously.

and by the next morning, not getting a single second of sleep, you're shocked when he asks for your number. you're even more shocked when he texts you later that day with more appreciation, asking to go to fucking lunch.

and that's when sunghoon realizes all those nice rumors about him are fucking true. because why the fuck does he want to make you his girlfriend without so much as learning your favorite color?

☆ jake:

jake loves you. he loves you so, so much. your virginity was never an issue, truly it wasn't.

emphasis on wasn't.

when he asked you to be his some two years ago, it wasn't an issue. a year into the relationship, it got a little difficult but he communicated that to you well enough. to the point that you were more than happy to compromise and offer a little bit of something to him. you got plenty out of it too, of course.

so, for a year now he's been surviving off of dry humping. that's it. just...grinding, humping, and messy jeans. time and time again, he knows it's all he's gonna get but fucking hell you're so...

god, you make him so horny. and perhaps you being just out of reach sexually only amplifies that but he can't help it at this point. sure, he cums every time you guys start grinding and kissing but more often than not you'll find him secretly in your bathroom shortly after with wet palms trying to stimulate himself in a way that he really needs.

in a way where he isn't rubbed raw and in pain the next morning.

he doesn't want to push. he won't push you. after all, you said you'd tell him when you're ready.

at this point, as he sits in his room sliding his palm up and down his sore length, he's unsure if you'll ever be ready and he's faced with the fact that he isn't sure if he can spend his life with someone who would never want him to-

his eyes roll back at the thought of all the things he'd like to do with you. for you. fuck, you'd look so pretty getting off. and it's the fact that even as he lays here thinking of you like this, he can't imagine what your tits would look like because he hasn't fucking seen them. he can't imagine what your pussy would feel like because he's only ever felt it over a thick layer of pants.

have you ever even gotten wet? if you had, he's sure you would've wanted it by now.

and so, he cums like that. very very upset. a very bad orgasm. one that didn't satisfy him in the slightest and one that definitely won't help him last through this fucking sleepover he has with you tonight.

he's unfortunately right about it too. because not even an hour passes before his cock is leaking against his pants and he's having to keep from moaning just from a simple shift of his leg as he walks around your apartment.

you note his difficulty in being around you today, and you're very aware of his hard on.

"jake, do you want me to sit on y-"

he groans before you can even finish asking. the sound is more frustrated than he's ever sounded towards you and it kinda...makes you feel bad. mostly because it's not like you don't think about it. you very much want to experience your first time with him. unfortunately, you've kind of had it hammered into your head that sex=bad. so, you've been a little afraid of it. though, after all the dry humping and stuff, orgasms aren't....so bad.

they're great, actually.

"no." jake answers you shortly, avoiding eye contact with you probably to keep his own sanity as he flops down on your couch. "i just need to cool down."

you walk over to him, unaware of how literally anything you do makes him want to push you to the floor and just fucking........take it.

"jake, you know you can ask. just let me sit on it." you offer, trying to straddle his lap for another session of not-enough.

"no, no." he pushes you away from him, moaning at the small pressure you did manage to press against him. "i think i just need, like, more than that right now. i'm gonna go to the bathroom."

and he does. he doesn't even kiss you before he stands up and makes his way in there. his tone sounds so focused on something that isn't you that it actually kind of hurts.

and this whole time you know he masturbates but you're never aware that he does it when you're here. he blatantly admitted to needing to go do it himself instead of letting you??? what the fuck??

and it kinda clicks in your head that like.....why is it that the fear of all that sex suddenly disappears when you think about the jake is probably going fucking insane right now? he's possibly losing interest in you, even. oh my god, what if he's going to go find someone else that'll ....

you rush to the bathroom, finding the door locked. you press your ear against it, feeling a pang of jealousy over nothing more than his own hand.

you hear the slapping of it, his palm hitting the base at a frantic and desperate pace.

you knock once. "jake?"

you hear him moan, the slapping only intensifying.

"jake, open the door. please?"

and he doesnt. he finishes before he even considers looking at you again, more for your own safety at that point rather than his own sanity. after all, had you of walked in and looked at him in the midst of a lust-stupor...well...

anyway, he opens the door and looks at you out of breath. instantly that softness is back in his eyes and you're already aware that it's time for a fucking talk. a make it or break it talk.

and hours pass as you talk. you explain, he explains, and you come to realize that jake truly is a person willing to do just about anything for you. he'd suffer for you, he'd lock himself in the bathroom just to cum so he doesn't have to ask you over and over again, just so he doesn't have to beg you or guilt you.

that's all it took really, to want to give him everything he needs too. two years of close to nothing and you never once realized how badly he needed it until now?

and the fear isn't there when it's with him. you see him struggle with his control when he finally sees your naked skin for the first time. you know he wants to go fucking insane on you but he knows he can't.

and he doesn't. he shows you that all those fears were useless. nothing hurts. his fingers are soft on you, in you. his tongue is warm and loving when he uses it all over you. and even when he slides into you for the first time, he contains himself. shushing you, letting you adjust, and then not needing to lose his mind because you do it for him.

working him about as quickly as he would have for you, never once did you realize how much you needed to feel full while enveloped in his arms. he just let you too, sliding back and forth, wiggling around on his cock with no rhyme or reason to how you move.

it feels so fucking good for him. to see you, feel you, watch you, fuck you. god, if he knew just this morning that this is what he was missing?? on god he would have had to tie himself up to just keep you safe from the lust that would've poured from his soul.

thankfully, he doesn't need to be tied down now. not with your legs practically doing it already, moaning for him, asking him for more.

he loves the words he truly thought he'd never be able to hear you say. honestly, all he can do is let you go insane, as if you've been the one needing this for the past two years. after all, now that it's happening, he's sure he'll have you like this again if the way you move your body on him is anything to go by.

[penny-for-thots]

[!] POSSESSIVE SUO. hcs. f!reader + yandere-ish and spicy-ish content?. he's ... yeah ; i promise its okay lmfao. i saw a togame one, so ofc i had to do my man. this is a lowk long hc list ...

hayato is the type to be extremely possessive of his friends, but he's so good at hiding it that no one can tell. if need be, he's ready to act like a snap of a finger, though more times than not, knowing his friends well enough, they have the situation under control.

hence, based on that, he's pretty (secretly) possessive over you pre-relationship. he's likely more so because you're a girl. not in a 'you're weaker,' way but more of 'i can't trust them around you' way.

hayato suo has a slick tongue.

he knows what to say, and when to say it. after all, the emotional intelligence he has is through the roof for someone of his age. at times it scares you how accurate his observations of you. often times, he notices things leagues before you do.

"you are aware that guy is flirting with you right?"

"unless you want the others to get a negative impression of you, i'd fix your expression."

"she's nervous, say something to help her relax."

specifically the first example, countlessly.

hayato suo is not a jealous person, after all, he's not dating you, how could he be jealous? though, there's something that pisses him off about those guys that approach you.

all of them were either sleazy or borderline misogynistic.

the first time you told him you were going on a date he almost burst a blood vessel.

it was at this point that suo realized he would have to do a bit more than the things he was doing to catch your attention: feigning injuries, "forgetting" his accessories around you, subtly purchasing things you enjoy, etc.

essentially, he was a boyfriend before he officially became one.

and even as you date, his shenanigans don't decrease. in fact, it increases. albeit, in a way you can't exactly point out.

instead of a dumb keychain or little figure he sometimes bought, he'd bring stuffed animals, necklaces, books, rings. the jewelry is always a matching set. he needs to let others know that the both of you are taken. you are a pretty girl, he has to stand his ground.

speaking of standing his ground, specifically in a fighting sense. he is always ready to through hands at someone for you.

someone is causing you anxiety? insults you? heaven forbid they assault you?

that time he had to be pulled away from mauling that dude? yeah ...

he'll through hands quickly if the disagreement can't be settled with words.

another way he proves being possessive, in a bot so subtle way, he'll leave small hickey's right where the line of your shirt sat. sure, they didn't show at the present moment, but you move the wrong way and anyone could see the way your lower neck and collarbone are littered in hickeys.

he's also a man to be alright with PDA. he's not too keen on too intimate activities, though small kisses and hand holding is his favorite thing to do.

(though he's not opposed to making out with you, biting and sucking on your bottom lip so when you go out it's kiss-swollen)

suo kisses the back of your hand and treats you like a princess while he's glaring at some poor unsuspecting man.

he's legitimately so happy to have you as a girlfriend. if they didn't know already, he's eager to introduce you, but if you wish to take it slow he will.

i mean he's also the type to ask you to cover his face in your lipstick via kisses.

having a possessive side to him, he loves seeing when yours decides to debut. he doesn't purposefully intend to make you jealous, but he couldn't exactly be rude.

he finds it cute when you have that huffy expression on your face, he'd annoy you as much as possible just to see a face like that.

adding on to material things he covers you in, he loves to see you in his clothes. the first time he saw you in one of his shirts, he almost lost it. instead of saying the ... things, he wanted to say, he decided to hug you from behind with a little tease about the situation, hoping you wouldn't feel something presses against your back.

i am severely sleep as it is 1:14 am, so in short, his possessiveness doesn't present in a way that you'd be able to point it out. others seem to point it out at times, but overall, he does normal boyfriend stuff but with ulterior methods of keeping you all to himself. he throughout enjoys your company and love, no one can take that away from him.

[koolades-world]

Can you do some crack headcanons for Obey Me where some accident causes MC to temporary get wings that are not only huge af but also let them fly super fast? Like a singular flap could cause MC to almost bump into the ceiling at Diavolo's castle alone. They can also zoom through the air at high speeds and you can just hear the "ZYOOOOOM"

One thing I can imagine is Lucifer teaching MC how to fly and immediately regretting it cuz he's the only one who can get even remotely close to them when they're flying and MC finds it funny to fly away from him(it's also out of fear of what will happen once he gets them)

hi! haha yeah of course! this is too funny can kinda imagine mc going splat like a in a cartoon LOL

let's set the scene: solomon fed you something weird that he cooked up in a cauldron after promising you something you want, and this makes you grow these super large, super strong wings. he swears they'll go away eventually, but it's up to you if you believe that or not. how does your man react?

Mc with temporary wings

Lucifer

kinda like a disapproving dad for accepting yet another strange potion from solomon

despite this, he takes you under his wing (haha get it?) and teaches you how to control them

once you get comfortable, you invite him to play games that he pretends he doesn't have time for but always joins in on. he secretly really enjoys having someone to

gosh,,, sky tag 🥺 the silly potential is endless since in the sky, there are no expectation for either of you

Mammon

probably also would have taken that offer from solomon

as another wing haver, he can help you out a little

the first time he tried to give you lessons, you accidentally smacked him in the face and sent him into the wall behind you

after that, he’s much more careful, and once you get the hang of it, he's teaching you his crafty ways

Levi

manages to reference at least three different animes he's seen around the situation

he thinks your wings are so cool but won't admit it

at one point, he takes you diving at Siren Beach for fun since you would be able to move through the water quickly with the large wings. lotan joins and you end up finding lots of cool stuff!

afterwards, he helps you dry off your wings since that wasn't exactly something you thought about before you got in the water

Satan

he's quick to ask solomon about how he made the potion out of curiosity

also asks if he can study your wings and watches you as you learn to fly

kinda goes science mode on you

since he knows how tiring carrying around that new weight must be, so he gives you lots of tasty food to replenish your energy, and offers you massages! (he learnt from simeon, the best)

Asmo

over the moon! he thinks they're so beautiful and almost wants to ask solomon to give him a pair too

he will accessorize you even if you run away, so expect lots of him hustling after you with all his ribbons and bows in hand

"Mc, sweetie, you're gonna look so cute!" is holding the ugliest old lady esque bows ever

teaches you all his favorite arial tricks even though both of you realize early on that you don't have the agility required with how large your wings are

Beel

can't comprehend how fast you are with those things

even though he also has wings, you fly circles around him with yours (if you even have the control for that)

quickly introduced you to aerial sports and the two of you find games to play together, even though it's kinda hard considering how different your wings and skillsets are

since they're only temporary, he wants you to make the most of them, and takes you sight seeing!

Belphie

you're literally just a pillow as far as he's concerned now

they're perfect for wrapping himself in and if you wanted, you could hide the two of you in them

when you're practicing flying, he yells out all sorts of useless "useful" tips, such as not to run into something you've already hit

he just sits on the sidelines, wrapped in a blanket, watching lazily amused