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ceilidho · 2 months ago

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Buttermilk

It doesn't take long to settle into the rhythm of your new summer job. Or: the babysitter x single dad au

Part 4 | masterlist

There’s nothing else to do but pretend it didn’t happen.

In the morning, you’re surprised to wake up and find him in the bed next to you, still covered in old sweat and dried cum. You suppose even in your sleep you’d unconsciously expected him to avoid the incident altogether—wake up extra early to shower while leaving you alone in the bed, giving you a modicum of privacy to digest the situation and its repercussions on your own.

He does no such thing.

“Morning, sweetheart,” John rumbles, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “Feeling alright?”

Dangling precariously over the edge of oblivion. Some kind of abyss. The kind that says you might not like what’s down here, girlie, but still you sit by the edge and kick your feet.

“Yeah,” you croak, and Lord, your voice is hoarse. Scratchy and rough, like it’s been dragged over sandpaper.

“Good.” He lets his hand rest on the curve of your cheek for a second before pulling it away. “Why don’t you get cleaned up? I’ll shower after.”

The bed groans under his weight when he sits up, throwing his legs over the side before rising to his feet. You quickly avert your eyes at the sight of his naked backside, hairy there as well. A bear all over. Even his yawn reminds you of one. And the way that he stretches his arms overhead and every bone in his upper body cricks and cracks, the sounds of age manifold.

You scrub yourself with shaky hands in the shower, gnawing at your bottom lip when you spread your puffy folds to find his cum still slightly tacky inside of you. Very bad. Scooping as much out as you can with your fingers, watching it run down the drain. Very bad indeed.

John has breakfast on the table when you come downstairs and it seems, somehow, uncouth to just tell him you want to go home. So instead you force yourself to sit and eat, glad that he at least agrees that it isn’t the time for conversation.

At the door, he sees you off with a hug, watching you from the door until you reverse out of his driveway and drive off, waving as you leave.

“This is really bad,” you whisper to yourself on the drive home. “Really, really bad.”

Despite the morning after, the night you spent together is never explicitly spoken about. It’s not a ‘thing’ you discuss by any means. No sit down conversation, no awkward allusions to it, no talking around and around the events until the exchange becomes unbearable. It simply blips out of existence as soon as you change into your old clothes and John walks you to the door, seeing you out.

You still show up the next day, as usual. Nothing’s changed except everything, but it feels taboo to even mention that things feel different.

The world hasn’t radically changed since you accidentally slept with John, but it certainly feels that way sometimes. In the few delicate hours after leaving his house, you were sure he’d call at any moment to tell you that your services would no longer be required—that he’d send your last check in the mail before parting ways. So sure of that, in fact, that you’d put your phone on silent for hours before mustering up the courage to check your missed calls later that evening.

Only a few texts from friends. No missed calls from your employer.

He doesn’t fire you. He certainly doesn’t treat you any differently the next time you come to babysit. You still get paid every week—though, admittedly, the money makes you feel a little weird now after sleeping with him, but it’s not like you can just turn your nose up at making rent—and everything else in your life stays exactly the same. If you weren’t now acutely aware of the feeling of your boss coming inside you, you might even think you dreamt it up.

Still, despite John never bringing it up or even alluding to sleeping with you, there’s still a sense that he—

The soft, affectionate thanks, hun that he gives you when you bring him a glass of water on the rare day he comes home early to work out in the garage makes you shiver.

His need to touch increases tenfold, matched only by his proprietariness. He must feel like after what you did together, it’s nothing for him to squeeze your thighs when he tells you that you did a good job with the baby or hug you extra tight when you’re about to leave.

If you’re extra shy around him, he doesn’t remark on it.

You’re levelheaded enough to know that he shouldn’t be so touchy with his younger female employee—his babysitter no less—especially after what happened, but it’s not as though he treats you like sleeping with you is a given. When a week goes by and nothing happens, you almost relax. Almost. Enough to let your guard down.

But—

You can’t stop thinking about it though. It runs through your head every hour of every day, made worse by the fact that you see him six days a week, Sundays excluded. Sundays being your one day off, which you no longer look forward to but rather dread because Sundays mean no baby, no park, and no John Price.

So, you follow his lead and pretend like it didn’t happen.

You think it’s past you; a terrible mistake that’ll never happen again until it happens again.

Eight o’clock at night and the blue light from the television has begun to strain your eyes. Baby sleeping upstairs—you put him down a few hours earlier without much of a peep; had to check on him a few times, but otherwise the baby monitor sitting on the end table hasn’t so much as crackled, leaving you no choice but to doze off on the couch.

When the door opens, it startles you awake.

“Mr. Price?” you ask, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes and clearing your throat.

John’s there when you twist around to peek over the back of the couch, filling out the door frame. Dishevelled after a long day’s work, his beard even more grown out than when he left earlier in the morning. A bit rougher around the edges, the day leaving its mark in the slight dark circles under his eyes and the set of his jaw, which only relaxes when he lays eyes on you.

“Just me, sweetheart.”

“Sorry, I…the baby’s been asleep for awhile, so I just thought I’d—”

“It’s fine, don’t worry. I know you’ve got it under control.”

“Let me just get my stuff and I’ll be out of your hair—”

He cuts you off with a wave, toeing his boots off at the same time. “No, no, no—you stay there and finish your movie. I’m gonna grab a drink and join you.”

There’s not much more you can say to that. Instead, you watch him take his bag upstairs to put away in the bedroom before you hear the sink turn on. Running water.

You carefully avoid looking at him when John comes back downstairs, the creaking steps signalling his descent. He heads to the kitchen without stopping by the living room first. The light switches on with a click. The fridge door opens and bottles clinking together when he roots around for something to drink.

And then you hear him make his way back to the living room.

The unspoken pact to not bring up what happened the last time you spent any alone time together imbues you with a false sense of security. Part of you expects him to take the single recliner next to the couch, if only to put some distance between the two of you.

Except when he comes back into the living room, he plops right down in the middle of the couch like always, close enough to you that you’re forced to scoot away, pressed up against the arm of the sofa. You shiver when he cracks open his beer and takes a swig, resting his arm on the back of the couch with the can held in a loose grip.

“What’re we watching?” he asks, blatantly adjusting himself to get more comfortable on the couch. Even soft, the outline of his cock is visible through his trousers.

You stare over at him nervously, unblinking.

“Sweetheart?” John prompts when you don’t answer.

“Oh, um…” You clear your throat again. “It’s just a Hallmark movie.”

“Cute. Well, we can keep it on. No sense changing it now.”

It’s tense for a little while. You keep your hands folded in your lap like a good girl and your eyes on the television. So you can’t stop inhaling the heady scent of tobacco and vanilla. So you can’t stop blinking your eyes, each blink heavier than the last until they spend more time shut than open. So you yawn and burrow deeper into the cushions, your head tipping back and nearly jarring you awake when you lean too far and topple over the side.

When you lean the other way and start to doze off on his shoulder, he pulls you onto his lap. You squirm, initially resistant, but he shushes you before you can put up a fuss.

“Just don’t want you to drool on my shirt,” he teases in a low murmur, smoothing a hand down your side and then it’s lights out for you.

You wake to a blunt intrusion at your entrance. Half-awake and squirming, you vaguely feel him rub the tip of his cock up and down your pussy, teasing himself. The second you squirm just a little too much, he uses that little bit of movement to push the tip in. It pops in without much resistance; then the slow, methodical press inward, your walls squeezing around the thick length thrusting up into you.

“Wha—” you whimper, keening when a big hand glides up your chest to squeeze a tit, rolling your nipple between his fingers.

“S’alright, baby, it’s just me,” John murmurs, his voice right in your ear.

You come to gradually and then all at once, aware of your back pressed to his clothed chest and your legs spread around his, your ankles hooked around his calves. Skirt rolled up and panties pushed to the side, one of his arms locked around your waist like a seatbelt to hold you in place.

“John, I’m—we c-can’t do it again—”

“Sorry, honey,” he apologises into your neck, kissing the area he just spoke into. “Had to be inside you again. S’all I’ve been able to think about since you came on my cock the other night. Promise it’ll be easier this time, okay, baby?”

He guides you down his length until he bottoms out, slick lips kissing the base of his dick. The pressure is overwhelming; in your belly, in your throat, in your head. Heart beating a million miles a minute. Walls throbbing around his length, thicker and heavier than you remembered.

All you can think of now is the last time he had you like this, legs spread for him and pussy dripping wet. Taking his cock all sleepy and sweaty under his giant comforter, whimpering into his neck.

It’s not as frantic this time, no rush to the finish line. He seems to like just burying his cock in you while he plays with your breasts, pinching and plucking your nipples until they’re pebbled and sore. His hands aren’t particularly soft either, callused from years of hard labour. When you whine and try to push his hands away, he shushes you again, not paying your protests any mind.

“Fuck, these are pretty,” John praises, staring down at your tits from over your shoulder. “No, baby, jus’ watch your show. M’gonna use your pussy for a bit, okay?”

It’s just that it’s—

When he lets go of your breast to play with your clit instead, you melt, any resistance going up in flames. The heat fans over your cheeks, your eyelids too heavy to lift, vision blurring even when you try to focus.

He helps you grind your hips down on him, big hands like manacles on your waist. Little undulations of your hips. Short, shallow thrusts that keep you both right on the edge, drenching his lap with your juices. When he gets bored of playing with your clit, he switches back to your breasts, pawing at them and then bending down to suck a nipple into his mouth.

Any time you get distracted by what he’s doing, he stops, holding you down on his cock and coaxing you to focus on the television in front of you instead.

When he jiggles your clit, you seize up, heart hammering in your throat.

“Good girl, c’mon—jus’ like that.” John presses a hot kiss to your temple, arm tightening around your front to keep you close. Sweet talks you through your orgasm, all vaguely paternalistic and patronising in the best and worst way.

He makes you lean forward so he can bounce you on his dick after, your hands braced on his knees to keep yourself upright.

“Ah, ah, ah, ah—”

“Almost there, honey, jus’—fuck, perfect, yeah, tighten up like that. Good fuckin’ girl.”

He comes with a strangled moan, still cognizant enough to keep the volume down even if you can’t. Shuttles you down onto his cock a few more times until you’re filled to the brim with cum.

In the aftermath, he sits you back against his sweat-matted chest and pushes his cum back into your sore cunt with his fingers when it dribbles out. Ignores your wounded little sounds like they’re just background noise. He even makes you suck his fingers to clean them up, the digits coated in your combined juices.

“Best fuckin’ girl,” John growls, pressing another kiss to the side of your head. Your fingers twitch feebly in your lap.

Pretending like it didn’t happen after the second time around doesn’t seem wise, but still you don’t know how to broach the subject.

Especially since you know it’s going to happen again.

John doesn’t say it outright, but his actions speak for themselves. An arm looped around your waist casually in line for coffee. Paying for the two of you in any situation, you having your own source of income be damned.

“It’s my money anyway, sweetheart,” he says when you point that out. “Might as well just pay now.”

And doesn’t that just send you into a tizzy, head spinning and mouth agape. Embarrassingly so.

Not to mention you still have this strange, sycophantic need to please him, even after everything. The complicated nature of your relationship aside, it still makes your heart flutter to hear him praise you for anything.

That’s how you end up in his bed on a Saturday afternoon, taking a nap with him after a long day out in the sun. Two hours spent at the botanical gardens, the sun beating down on your head, lathering sunscreen on the baby’s sensitive little arms and legs, and swiping it over his cheeks. John sporting a mild sunburn near the collar of his shirt where he forgot to apply sunscreen and when you have the audacity to giggle, he pulls your baseball hat down over your eyes.

It’s almost too easy for him to coax you into his bed, even though you’re adamant about keeping it clean. A hand firm on your back up the stairs. Already yawning when you put the baby down for a nap, so why not take one too? Ushering you into the bedroom when you say you can take the couch, but why, he presses, take the couch when you’ve already shared the bed before?

Well, because the last time—

He draws the blinds shut and climbs into bed, pulling you into his chest.

You wake up to John plastered against your back, bare cock nudging against your cunt while he snores into your neck. You don’t remember him curling up next to you without any clothes on, but he must have taken off his pants in his sleep, now somewhere rumpled at the end of the bed.

When you try to quietly pull away, his arms just tighten around you more, grumbling in his sleep. The sound makes you freeze, going quiet as a mouse. A few more minutes go by before you feel confident enough to try moving again, carefully trying to slide out from his hold.

You wiggle a hand out, reaching for the other end of the bed.

The hand resting on your belly dips low, shoved between your legs and feeling you up before you can do more than gasp. The man behind you gives a short exhale, shaking off the last vestiges of sleep, rising out of it like a wave now that he feels something wet under his hand.

“Oh, honey…why didn’t you tell me you needed my cock again? You’re leaking right through your panties,” John rasps, dragging your underwear down to mid-thigh.

A big bear hand clamps over your mouth before you have a chance to protest. There’s nothing you can do to keep his knee from spreading your legs and feeding his cock into your drenched centre with his other hand. As soon as he notches the head against your entrance, it’s a smooth glide in.

“There we go,” he pants into your neck. “Big stretch—ah, yeah, nice ‘n tight. That’s my pretty girl.”

He keeps your legs spread with a hand on the inside of your thigh. All you can do is moan behind his hand, humid breath blowing back around your face as you pant. So hot for it that you’re almost nauseous.

You’re a bit too tight for him to fit his cock in you, so he has to work to stretch you out, bullying another inch into you with every thrust. The angle makes it tricky though; means he can’t get more than half of his cock into you. It’s hardly comfortable for you either, your leg already cramping.

“My leg’s got a cramp,” you whine, unsure of what you want to happen. All you know is that you can’t keep this up.

He readjusts his grip, but that just makes you hiss, wincing when that makes your leg twinge. Suddenly the world spins, the pillows going from comfortably under your head to right in your face, John manoeuvring you onto your tummy and hiking your hips up a few inches. It lets him get even deeper, the angle letting him slide right to the hilt.

“Oh god, oh god—John, I can’t—”

“Shh—you’re alright, honey. Much better like this,” he breathes, settling on top of you. It takes him a second to get comfortable, nudging right up against a sensitive spot inside of you the whole time, so deep you can almost feel him in your throat.

He weighs a ton on top of you, rutting between your thighs like he can’t hold himself back, his self-control snapping like brittle glass. Bristly beard chafing your neck when he buries his head to suck on the tender skin there, smothering you under his weight. Thighs trapping you in place, your memory jumping back to that time at the beach, but now there’s nothing between you. Just a thick cock pounding into you and moulding you around its shape.

His hips slap against your ass with every thrust, the lewdest sound you’ve ever heard.

“Gonna make sure it takes this time,” John grunts. “Wanna take care of my baby so bad? I’ll give you a couple to mind.”

That rattles you right to your core; shakes you to the foundations of who you are. You don’t know what to think, what to say—tongue tied and loose lipped all at once. You’ve let him come inside of you so many times that if it hasn’t taken already, surely it will soon.

It slips out before you can take it back. “D-daddy, please—”

That makes him lose his mind. Just a bit.

“Fuck,” he snarls. “Again.”

He wedges his arm under you to curl his hand around your throat, tilting your head out.

“Daddy—daddy—please, I wanna come—” you pant, repeating the same word until it sounds like nothing, tongue puffy in your mouth.

His dick slips out at some point and he wrenches himself off you long enough to wrap his hand around himself and slap it against your ass a few times, cum tagging your skin. Your breath catches in your throat, whining when you clench down on nothing. One stroke after repositioning himself and he’s all the way back in, hammering the spot that makes you go cross-eyed and squeak.

“Make daddy another baby, okay, sweetheart?” It’s not sweet. It’s not doting. It’s growled into your ear like a demand, punctuated by the way his hips snap forward, nearly sending you into the headboard.

You’re practically an old hat at taking his cum now, squeezing up when you can feel it coming and giving him a nice little treat. He sinks his teeth into the back of your neck when he does, muffling the sound roaring out of him, and it hurts.

He’s tender with you after though. Lavishes the line of your neck with soft kisses; murmurs sweet nothings into your ear while you cry fat tears onto the pillow. Even twists and turns so you’re no longer on your back but rather splayed across his chest again, urging you up for a deeper kiss with tongue.

“‘Know you’re tired, sweetie, but this is for your own good,” John murmurs as he wedges a hard thigh between your legs and makes you ride it, grinding your sensitive, throbbing clit down on the muscle. “Can you come, baby? Jus’ like that—that’s good, baby—”

It hurts so good that you don’t even notice when you squirt, the emotions too big for you. It’s like being squeezed too tight, unable to catch your breath or say anything but the same word on a loop. John’s sweet about it though—wipes the sweat from your hairline and upper lip, talking you through it until you slump down on his chest, legs akimbo.

For a bachelor, you think in a daze, he’d make a good husband.

The days grow colder and the sun sets earlier.

A while ago you thought maybe this babysitting gig would be temporary. That at some point you’d move on—maybe go back to school or apply for a more standard nine-to-five job. That’s how the trajectory of your life was supposed to go, you think.

But the timing never seems right. Maybe you’ve grown too attached to the baby or maybe the pay is just too good to give up or maybe you’ve just become habituated to someone getting you off at least every other day. Still, it feels a bit weird to get paid for what essentially boils down to fucking a man and taking care of his baby.

It comes up when you’re sitting out on the porch with him again, this time in his lap in the same adirondack chair, a blanket wrapped around you to keep you warm. John laces his fingers through yours, thumb stroking over your finger, burning a line into the skin.

“Doesn’t it make you feel weird to pay me for…” you say, trailing off with a cocked eyebrow. Surely he must catch your drift.

He chuckles. You wait for the joke.

Your eyes must be big as moons staring up at him.

“Don’t think of it as a paycheck, sweetheart. That’s your allowance.”

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip and swallow.

“Okay,” you whisper. Then let him reel you back in for another kiss, his thumb resting over your ring finger and pressing.

#ceil writing #cod x reader #price x reader #price/reader #price x you #john price x reader #john price x you #captain john price x reader

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luna-azzurra · 5 months ago

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Emotionally reserved characters

Instead of openly sharing their emotions with others, they keep their feelings locked inside, letting their inner thoughts do all the talking. You get a glimpse into their mind, where a storm of conflicts, doubts, and desires brews quietly beneath a calm exterior. This internal monologue allows readers to understand what’s going on inside their head, even if they don’t show it on the outside. It’s like seeing the world through their eyes, where every little thing stirs up a wave of emotions that they never express out loud.

For these characters, actions speak louder than words, but even their actions are restrained. They communicate their emotions through the smallest of gestures—a slight tightening of the jaw when they’re angry or hurt, a brief flicker in their eyes when they’re surprised, or a controlled change in posture when something makes them uncomfortable. These tiny, almost imperceptible movements can say so much more than an outburst ever could, hinting at feelings they would never openly share. It’s about what they don’t do as much as what they do.

When they do speak, every word is carefully chosen. Emotionally reserved characters don’t ramble or spill their feelings in a flood of words. Instead, they speak in a measured and controlled manner, always keeping their emotions in check. Their sentences are concise, sometimes even vague or indirect, leaving others guessing about what they’re really thinking. It’s not that they don’t feel deeply, they just prefer to keep those feelings close to the chest, hidden behind a mask of calm and composure.

For these characters, what they do is often more telling than what they say. They might not say “I care about you” outright, but you’ll see it in the way they go out of their way to help, the quiet ways they show up for the people they love. Their actions reveal their emotions—whether it’s a protective gesture, a silent sacrifice, or a kind deed done without expectation of recognition. It’s these unspoken acts of kindness that show their true feelings, even if they never say them out loud.

They often have strong personal boundaries. They keep their private lives just that - private. They don’t open up easily and are cautious about who they let into their inner circle. They might deflect conversations away from themselves or avoid sharing personal details altogether. It’s not that they don’t want to connect, it’s just that they find it hard to lower their walls and let others in, fearing vulnerability or judgment.

When they do show vulnerability, it’s in small, controlled doses. These characters may have moments where they let their guard down, but only in private or with someone they deeply trust.

Sometimes, emotionally reserved characters express their feelings through objects that hold special significance to them. Maybe it’s a worn-out book they keep close, a piece of jewelry they never take off, or an old letter tucked away in a drawer. These symbolic objects are like anchors, holding memories and emotions they can’t express in words. They serve as tangible reminders of their inner world, representing feelings they keep buried deep inside.

When these characters communicate, there’s often more to their words than meets the eye. They speak in subtext, using irony, implication, or ambiguity to convey what they really mean without saying it outright. Their conversations are filled with hidden meanings and unspoken truths, creating layers of depth in their interactions with others. You have to read between the lines to understand what they’re really saying because what they leave unsaid is just as important as what they do say.

Despite their calm demeanor, there are certain things that can break through their emotional reserve. Specific triggers - like a painful memory, a deep-seated fear, or a personal loss - can elicit a strong emotional response, revealing the depth of their feelings. These moments of intensity are rare but powerful, showing that even the most reserved characters have a breaking point.

Over time, emotionally reserved characters can evolve, gradually revealing more about themselves as they grow and change. Maybe they start to trust more, opening up to those around them, or perhaps they experience something that challenges their emotional barriers, forcing them to confront their feelings head-on.

#writing #writer on tumblr #writerscommunity #writing tips #character development #writing advice #oc character #writing help #writer tumblr #writblr #creative writers #wrtblr

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sheepispink · 1 month ago

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thinking about sleeping next to simon thanks to @thatsamericasass24

“What’re you doing up this late?” His gruff voice rang out, empty bottle in hand coming to fill it in the sink here, but all rationality seemed to run to waste when he saw your state.

For some reason, you cant sleep in your bed tonight whether that’s because of a giant spider, a nightmare scaring you or your bed entirely breaking mid sleep. Either way, you’re shaking in the common room, hands wrapped around a warm mug as you recount the previous events like a broken tape playing the same part.

With that, he had ushered you into his bedroom, knowing he couldnt just leave you to tremble any longer on that couch. He never planned to sleep beside you, no, he would only lay next to you, make sure that shiver stopped. He settles in the bed first, making sure to be on the edge before patting the space next to him in the dark room, only the small lamplight glowing up the untouched sheets.

You let out a soft breath of relief as you shuffle beneath the covers beside him, only to tense up immediately when your leg collides with his. “Sorry!” You squeak out, shuffling forward only to meet your tipping point, your hand gripping the bedframe to stop you from completely falling off the mattress. You were seconds away from falling off altogether but you couldn’t fathom complaining so you just lay there, squashed into yourself to avoid touching him once more— your hands still holding on desperately so you dont fall off the bed altogether.

His teeth grit as he watches the situation unfold, clearly having underestimated just how large he was. Of course his own bed was more than sufficient for himself— he didnt really think twice when his arm fell off the bed in the mornings. so he figured the same would apply to you. Now he could only watch as you lay stiffly, trying your best not to be ungrateful for his help but it was a little difficult when you felt more on edge than before. Literally.

He taps your shoulder and motions for you to face him, which you do, rolling over when your shoulder brushes his arm once more, a flush on your cheek.. Looking down between you two, there’s only an inch of space at best, and even so, he’s not even in a comfortable position. “Sorry— i’ll just go back to mine-“ You begin but he shakes his head, settling himself properly in the bed until his arms bump yours.

“Hold onto me.” You blink in surprise and instinctively follow his instructions, reaching an arm out before he guides your hand to settle over the expanse his chest. He would’ve wrapped you up tightly with his own arms, keeping you safe in his strong grip. However, the last thing he’d want is to scare you off by being his usually rough self. This way you could choose what you wanted to do, without feeling pressured to comply.

And you do, your hand snug over his chest as your body slowly pushes more against his, right in the crook of him. “I think my arm is too short.” He loves the way your lips quirk up into a nervous grin, afraid yet still finding entertainment in the silliness of this situation. He shuffles onto his side instead, every inch of him pressing against your body as he moves. “You gonna keep being cheeky or can i hold you properly?” He knew what you were implying but it was best to be sure, especially from how shaken up you were earlier. “The latter, please.”

You let out a soft squeal as he wraps his large arm around you, his forearm pressing against your back as he tucks your head into his neck. “ ‘m not gonna let you fall off. Close yer eyes.” He squeezes you a little, forcing the breath you’ve been holding in the corner of your lungs for hours now to finally release. Your eyes flitter, the warm skin of his neck bringing colour back to your cheeks. The panic from before dissipates now, sleepy eyes drifting close as your hand reaches around, only landing on his side at best. “Night, Si.” You squeeze him just as tight, your nose nudging his neck and he chuckles, never having thought he’d ever be able to hold you like this.

“Night, sweetheart.”

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novelistwriter · 1 month ago

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Phantom Rogue

DP x DC Prompt

Danny has had enough with Amity. His friends and his sister began to distance themselves from him after the whole "Dan" incident. He dropped out of school and was barely patrolling around Amity, just doing his best to avoid Vlad at all costs.

By the time he was 19, he just up and left Amity altogether, taking all of his parents' work, just to spite them for ignoring human him and chasing Ghost him.

He drifts from city to city, not really having anywhere to stay. That is until he reaches Gotham, where he encounters Tim, someone almost like him. But not the Tim Drake we all know, the Tim Drake Danny encounters is one who isn't part of the Batfam and is instead the biggest Crime Lord of Gotham.

Jason was persuaded to stay in Gotham when he found out about his biological mother. And he's happy about it, as he learned that she works for the Joker later on. Tim spent most of his teen years hoping and praying that Batman would find him and take him away from his neglectful parents. By the time Janet died, he had accepted that Batman wouldn't notice him. This led him down the dark path, where he began to gather blackmail on the other rich families of Gotham, and from there, it slowly began to expand into the criminal organization he has now.

Tim had become one of the most feared people in Gotham. The reason? His intelligence. He has developed a lot of countermeasures to prevent any evidence from being left behind or acquired to be used against him. After he inherited Drake Industries when Jack died, he used the company to develop a lot of things to counter the Rogues of Gotham and uses the tech to threaten the Rogues.

Croc works for Tim because he was promised to have a cure developed for him so he could be human again and is frequently used to fight Bane whenever he is attacking Drake Industries to acquire anything to help his Venom improve. Tim was so close to killing the Joker, but the newest Robin, Damian Wayne, stopped him. This is what causes the Joker to fear Tim Drake. Oswald doesn't have enough money to ruin Tim and almost lost the Iceberg Lounge to Tim. He got to keep it after he proposed to work with Tim. The Court of Owls can't do anything to Tim, as he has dirt on all of the members, and if he is killed, it will be released to the entire world, and Tim has found a way to control quite a number of Talons.

And now that these two neglected young men have met, they are going to show the world just how dangerous they can be.

(Fun Fact: This prompt was inspired by either an official or fanmade artwork I seen somewhere where Tim isn't part of the Batfam and is saying how he wished Batman took him away from the Drakes to a man he was about to pull the teeth out of their mouth with pliers)

#danny phantom #dp x dc #dpxdc #dcu #batman #dp crossover #dp x dc prompt #dead tired #danny fenton #tim drake

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envy-of-the-apple · 9 months ago

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Ruptured Amethyst; Splintered Tanzanite

Dark!Satosugu x reader - Yakuza Au

Synopsis: In hopes of paying off your debt, you start working for two dangerous men. Soon, you realize they want more than money.

Word count: 9.2k

(Warnings: dark content, sexual coercion, dubcon, noncon, oral sex, piv sex, threesomes, gun, blood, violence) Ageless blogs will be blocked. Minors DNI

In this job, you quickly learned that it's better to just keep your head down.

Do what you were called for and leave. Do nothing but sit on your computer and look at numbers. Stepping out of your makeshift boundaries led to nothing but trouble.

It worked perfectly like that for the first few weeks you were brought here. The other workers never bothered you, and it took you a moment to realize they were in the same boat as you were: owing a debt. You wouldn’t quite say things were peaceful; every so often, one of Geto’s men would hurl someone through a table, but things were manageable.

And then Gojo came back.

You hadn’t met Gojo, yet. He was overseas on a business trip when Geto brought you in. You hadn’t met him, but you’d heard enough to make you want to stay away from him. Ijichi had told you enough stories to make you want to sink into the floor altogether. You just had until the end of the year until your debt was paid. It was the beginning of September, right now. Surely, you could avoid him until then, right?

“Ah, you’re the one Suguru was talking about.”

It was your fault. It was entirely your fault. Ijichi had begged you to stay after work for a bit longer and desperate to pay the debt off, you had agreed. No one else was supposed to be in the office besides you and him.

But Gojo didn’t follow other people’s rules. It'd take you a while before you fully understand that.

You could do nothing but stand there, wobbling in your heels as Gojo loomed over you. His sunglasses were tilted, cresting over his nose as he scrutinized you. You clutched the laptop closer to your chest, as though it’d save you somehow.

Gojo didn’t look dangerous. If you had seen him on the street, you would have assumed he was a model. Tall, long hands, pretty features. Gojo doesn’t look dangerous. Gojo is dangerous. He doesn’t need the gun (casually on his side, right in your line of sight) to prove it.

You say nothing. You don’t know what to say. So far, you’ve only dealt with Geto. Geto with his fake smiles and soft words of thinly veiled threats. As intimidating as Geto was, you felt safe enough with him to answer his questions. Speak when spoken to.

Gojo was uncharted territory. Should you speak? Should you greet him? Should you get on your hands and knees? Gojo was new. You had to deal with something new, alone.

You opt to stay silent, hoping that’s the best move. It’s not. Above you, Gojo’s clicking his tongue. He leans down, stooping his head low to get a better view of your face. You stare at him until it gets too much and you’re turning away. He likes that even less, grabbing you by the chin so you’re facing him again.

“You mute or somethin’?” He asks, tilting your head like he’s assessing you.

“No,” you finally murmur. It was a question, correct? He won’t get mad if you answer his questions.

He doesn’t seem mad. But he doesn’t seem happy, either. If anything, he looks a little disappointed.

“I really don’t get it,” he’s talking, but it’s more like he’s saying his thoughts out loud, “Suguru would not shut up about you. Thought I was gonna see something more exciting. You’re so...”

He trails off as though even describing you would be a waste. The thought that Geto speaks about you to his partners scares you, but you’re wise enough not to pry. Instead, you wait. Waiting often works. You’ve been cornered by Geto’s men (before they knew he was the one who brought you), most just want to intimidate you, they get a kick out of fear. When you give them what they want, they usually leave you alone.

Gojo doesn’t leave, even when you’re sure your horror is printed on your face. Obvious to even the blind. Instead, he leans back, eyes trailing down your outfit. Despite how most of the stuff done here was off the record, Geto still prioritized a professional workplace. You were expected to put on a clean blouse and skirt every day.

You yelp when Gojo tugs on the fabric of your skirt, bunching the material on your thighs. Forgetting where you are, who you’re with, you grab his wrist.

“Don’t be like that,” Gojo chides as though you were being the unreasonable one, “I just wanna look. Seriously, what was that guy going on and on about—”

“Satoru.”

Geto’s voice stops the both of you. He’s leaning against the wall, watching the two of you with a less than impressed look. You’re relieved when he’s more focused on Gojo than you.

“Sugu!” Gojo cheers, a complete 180 from his past demeanor. He lets you go and you sink against the wall in relief. “I’m home!”

“I can see that,” Geto retorts, but there’s an odd fondness laced in his tone that you’d never heard before.

The kiss they shared was violent. Tongue and teeth and messy. Gojo reached up, scrunching Geto’s hair, dragging him closer. Respectfully, you glanced away. You don’t yet leave. You know better than that, especially now that Geto is here.

“How many times have I told you to stop harassing our employees?” Geto sighs, once he’s pulled away. His tone is filled with exasperation, as though he were talking to a child.

“I didn’t do anythin’,” Gojo responds. When you finally turn back, Geto is shaking his head.

He smiles at you.

“Apologies, my dear,” he states, “you can leave. Remember to tell Ijichi you’re going.”

You eagerly nod before scurrying away. You can hear Gojo scoff, another murmur from Geto. You couldn’t care less what they’re saying, more than happy to grab your things, bid Ijichi goodbye, and leave.

Keep your head down, and don’t ever bother with what they are doing.

⟡

Technically, you weren’t in debt, your father was.

He had close ties to the underground. You weren’t sure of the details, you were so young when your mother left with you in tow. She was always stingy with the details, but she never failed to remind you that your father was a stupid man who worked with dangerous ones. She passed away right after you graduated from college. You’d mourned her.

Now, a part of you felt grateful she passed just before she saw your life fall apart.

They came in the middle of April. You remember that day purely because of the flower blossoms littering the sidewalk, the first sign of blooming spring.

There were three other men besides Geto that day, and you hadn’t known his name back then—just the man with long, pretty hair. They were all waiting for you, loitering right beside your home. When you hesitated, slowed to a stop, the man with long hair smiled at you. Geto calls your name. When you don’t respond, his smile widened.

“That is who you are, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” you nervously said, “sorry, but—but who are you all?”

He introduces himself. The other three don’t bother. You don’t yet realize that they’re only henchmen, mere puppets for Geto.

“Apologies, but this is a rather sensitive subject. Can we talk someplace private?”

You don’t want to let these men into your home, but his soft words and intimidating company coax you into agreeing. You lead them up the steps, praying to God that you were wrong about this—whoever they were. When you unlock the door, only Geto follows you. The rest wait outside. You don’t know if that’s better or worse.

He seats himself right on the sofa. It’s your apartment, and yet his mere presence makes you feel like he’s the owner. You loiter next to the door, twiddling your thumbs.

“Would you like tea?”

He tilts his head. “Aren’t you a polite one?”

It was more for you than for him—scurrying to the kitchen, away from his searing purple eyes. It’s a reprieve to start the burner, pour water into the pot. You take as much time as you can, but eventually, you have to come out.

Geto says nothing when you place the cups down. He takes it, humming at the taste. You don’t touch your cup.

His tone is soft. His words aren’t.

Your father did far worse than work with dangerous men. He’d stolen from them. He was already dealt with, his punishment had sent him careening off the Earth far sooner than your mother. Still, the topic of the missing money was still there.

Something that had fallen onto you, his next of kin.

You were already crying once Geto finished. Your body is wracked with sobs. You can barely suck in a breath.

“Please—please,” you’re already saying, “he—we—I swear we never received any sort of money from him.”

He takes your hand within his own, curling his fingers around them. Coming from anyone else, it would have been a nice gesture.

“I’m aware,” Geto comforts, “we know you haven’t been in contact with your father for more than a decade.”

His fingers are warm. They trace your cheek as he gently wipes away your tears.

“But in this line of business, family matters, no matter how estranged, my Dear.”

You look at him through your tears. He’s beautiful. Long black hair. If you touched it, you bet it would feel like silk within your fingers.

It’s his eyes that truly suck you in. Purple. It’s a rare eye color, you’ve never seen someone with purple eyes until now. They resemble amethyst, unpolished, but still just as beautiful.

“My partner would have much less...humane ways of dealing with this situation,” Geto continues, “but I think you could be far more useful warm rather than cold, do you agree?” You shrivel in your spot, already having an inkling to what he’s saying. It’s not like you haven’t already figured out where this was going. You’ve heard the stories of what dangerous men do to those who’ve wronged them—to the vulnerable girls who accidentally trip and fall into their trap, forced to work in brothels and debase themselves all for the sake of keeping them rich.

He laughs right then. It’s rich, deep, startling you out of your misery.

"Come now, it's the 21st century."

Geto smiles. Fake. Unsafe.

"Women are worth far more than just their bodies."

It turns out that even the Yakuza had paperwork.

It was a menial deskjob, on the surface, at least. If you don’t think too hard about who you’re working for, it could be a regular office. It’s not like any of the work you are provided with is illegal, but you doubt you’d put it down on your resume.

Your education had saved you. Ironic that it was your father who instilled your desire to learn.

If you don’t think too hard about it, your new ‘job’ wasn’t horrible. As notorious as they were, your new employers weren’t downright cruel. You still got paid. You had a contract. Things could honestly be a whole lot worse.

It was still very hard to get used to, especially in the beginning.

Something you learned very quickly was that the men around here did not like it when women had an attitude. You were far too meek to have one, but the other few women who worked with you became your teachers, showing you exactly what the men would do if you didn’t stay in line. You were more than happy to listen, and even then, your eagerness to learn didn’t help. In order for the lesson to truly sink in, you needed trial and error.

You stepped out of line exactly once. And then you never did it again.

It had been an accident. You’d forgotten that Geto had an important meeting that day. You knocked on his door, shuffling some documents in your hand. It was muscle memory to just go in because he’s never said anything but come in before.

They’d all stared at you, eyes lingering up and down your body. One of them grins. Immediately, you look at Geto. Horrified. Ready to grovel at his feet if need be.

His eyes flashed dangerously. Purple turned into sharp magenta knives. Geto tilted his head.

“Come here, dear.”

You take one step. Another. Then another. The way they look at you makes your stomach twist and sink but Geto only looks at you expectantly. When you linger at his side, his lips quirk.

His grip on your waist is gentle as he guides you into his lap. Your cheeks burn, but you don’t dare move, not even when the men start laughing at the free show. Geto only curls a hand on your waist, keeping you in place as he leans back again.

“Continue, gentlemen.”

The rest of the meeting continues with you on Geto’s lap. You don’t look at any of them, hands balled into fists at your sides. You feel naked. The air within the room is stifling. You refuse to look anywhere else but the floor.

The conversation goes back to business. Despite the compromising situation, he put you in, Geto’s hands don’t wander. He's content to keep his fingers on your waist until the room filters out and everyone leaves.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Geto.” You murmur, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

He doesn’t answer, at least not to that. He just sighs, sinking into his seat. Still, Geto doesn’t let you get up. Not yet. He waits until you’re looking at him, still smiling that fake smile.

This had been a punishment. The next time you made a mistake, you doubt you’d be let off so easily.

“Learn quickly, my dear.”

You nod. You apologize again. When Geto finally lets you go, you are quick to stumble away, pushing your way out the door. Purple eyes follow you out. You don’t think they stop looking until you’re out of the room, curled into your desk, steadying your heartbeat.

You stepped out of line exactly once. You never did it again.

Despite being under Geto, technically, Ijichi is your direct superior. You thanked the Gods for it. Ijichi was the only person here you were certain didn’t have blood on his hands. He was in a similar situation as you were; stuck working off a debt that he didn’t owe. You two bonded on your shared misery. He was the one reprieve you had in your new life.

Unfortunately, now that Gojo was back, Ijichi was far busier. It gave you little time with him. You suppose you were always welcome to join them, but considering your first encounter with Gojo, you’d much rather not.

It’s not like you hadn’t had similar encounters before Gojo's arrival. In the very beginning, one of Geto’s men tried something remarkably similar. You can still remember his hand on your hip, his other hand slowly unbuttoning your shirt while other men stood to the side laughing.

It hadn’t lasted long.

You didn’t realize he was shot until he was already on the ground, twitching in pure agony. He screamed and cried louder than you had. Blood was already dripping to the floor.

Geto had already tucked away the gun, striding away as though nothing happened. He didn’t say anything, the incident was never mentioned. Even to you, his statement rang loud and clear.

You were off-limits.

Clearly, Gojo didn’t care about the unspoken rule.

So far, Ijichi hasn’t acknowledged him. If anything, your superior is hunched behind his computer, typing away, rarely taking his eyes off-screen. You admired his concentration, but it was hard for you to follow suit, considering that Gojo had taken a seat right next to you.

His stare is impossible to ignore. You can feel it even as you desperately try to focus on the screen in front of you. As if he can tell you’re intimidated by his mere presence, he leans over, shoulder pressing against your own. You could practically hear the grin in his voice.

“Watcha’ workin’ on?” He asks as though he can’t already see.

Still, you falter. “Um—”

“Um’” he repeats, “that’s all you’ve been sayin’. Hey, Ijichi—” The man in question jolts up, eyes already panicked.

“Your assistant always this jumpy, or is your personality just that infectious?”

“Sir, uh—” Ijichi starts before getting cut off by a tsk.

“See? Again,” Gojo sighs, “I see why you two get along so well.”

You and Ijichi exchange glances, unsure what to do. When Gojo says nothing more, you decide it’s okay to resume work again, typing away.

Childhood friends, Ijichi told you back when you were still morbidly curious. Gojo had come from a lineage of powerful businessmen. Geto had more or less worked his way up. They became partners somewhere along that time.

It’s hard to imagine them as friends or as anything more. They’re so different. Geto is so controlled, measured with every response he takes. Gojo is more like dynamite, ready to go off at any moment.

You suppose the only similarity is how unreadable they are. To this day, you can’t tell whether Gojo dislikes you or not. Every action you take seems only to disappoint him, yet he constantly hovers around you.

It takes another minute for you to be on the keyboard before Gojo decides he doesn’t like you working peacefully. The chair creaks under his weight as he shifts closer. His head rests against your shoulder. With his new position, you can feel his breath on your collarbone as an arm casually wraps around your shoulders. You don’t dare react, but you send Ijichi a panicked look. He looks sympathetic, but he doesn’t move to help you. You can’t find it in yourself to fault him for his inactions.

“You never answered me, by the way.” He murmurs, quiet enough that only you can hear.

You respond as diligently as you can, making sure you use as few word fillers as possible. It’s clear Gojo doesn’t like that. Or rather, he doesn’t like the nervousness your voice exudes but you doubt you could fix it, especially with his presence around.

“Sounds boring.” Gojo interrupts your rambles. “You don’t do anything else more entertaining?”

“No, sir,” you reply, “I’m only in charge of paperwork.”

Despite the other co-workers you have, you are still an anomaly. Everyone here has had an experience holding a gun—even Ijichi. It’s clear Geto ‘hiring’ you was a change in pattern, something you would always be grateful for. If he hadn't, you wouldn’t want to know what was in store for you.

That’s probably why Gojo was so curious about you. However, considering how close they were, you were now wondering why Geto hadn’t explained it.

“How long have you been working here—hey,look at me when you’re talking.”

You turn, and for the first time, you willingly face Gojo Satoru. His sunglasses are tilted down, and you can see his eyes now. They are blue, so painfully blue, like an ocean, curled up tightly within his eyes. Glittering tanzanite stares back at you—beautiful gemstones that glisten beneath the fluorescent light.

Gojo tilts his head, and you remember that he asked you a question.

“Three weeks, Sir.”

He doesn’t seem all that pleased with your answer. You wonder if you should have lied instead. He’s embarrassingly close, and the position he’s forced you into doesn’t help.

“That quick, huh?” Gojo murmurs, and he sounds a little impressed, “how many times have you and Suguru fucked?”

You gape at him, horrified at even the insinuation. It takes a while for you to even find your voice.

“I—we’ve never. Never.”

Gojo narrows his eyes. “You don’t have to lie to me. C’mon, I'm just curious.”

It feels even worse that Gojo's question isn't even unreasonable. Geto has always treated you differently. Softer. Kinder, if you wanted to be charitable. It isn't a stretch to assume you've been doing favors for the man, in this line of work, it must be a normal occurrence. Yet, you haven't. Apart from that one blunder weeks ago, Geto has never touched you inappropriately.

Still, you shake your head rapidly, feeling heat flush in your cheeks. Being cornered and interrogated like this is humiliating, especially in front of everyone. Ijichi is nice enough to look away while you’re being humiliated, but you know he’s listening. You know everyone’s listening.

Thankfully, Geto intervenes.

“You.” A sigh of exasperation. “Get off.”

Gojo rolls his eyes, but you almost cry in relief when he pushes away and stands up.

“We were bonding,” Gojo argues, though, like everything he says, it sounds like a tease.

Geto’s murmuring something else, and it’s clear that this interaction between them is normal. It's almost a repetition of what happened last time. Both times, you’d been the commonality.

Gojo leaves eventually, shooed away by his partner. The office finally grows quiet when the white-haired man disappears to God knows where. You feel like you can breathe again, but Geto still has not left.

When you look, he’s pinching the bridge of his nose, and you’re strangely reminded of a stressed mother. Finally, he lets out a breath, opening his eyes and staring down at you.

“I apologize for his behavior, my dear,” he says. There’s a hand on your shoulder, mirroring the touch Gojo gave you.

“He’s excitable, like a dog.” You don’t think that part was for you, though you don’t think you could ever even fathom comparing the terrifying anomaly that is Gojo to a mutt. You don’t respond. Geto squeezes your shoulder.

“Come to me if Satoru goes too far. I always take care of my people, don't I?”

He doesn’t leave until you give a nod. His hand finally retracts, allowing you to sink into your seat. You watch him until his figure disappears from view.

“I’m taking a break,” you say, not even a minute later.

Ijichi gives a nod as you push yourself up away from the computer. You spend your break the way you usually do: tucked inside the bathroom, trying to wonder how your life turned out this way.

⟡

Sometimes, you accompany Geto on his trips.

You don’t want to, but it’s not like you can reject his ‘requests.’ It’s part of the job, whether or not you can refuse is up to Geto’s whims.

The trips aren’t too bad. Most of the time, it’s a meeting with other dangerous men. You mainly just sit in a corner, peering down at the ground, trying your best not to be noticed. It works, most of the time. The few perks of this new life is how seldom the people of the underground want to associate with you, especially when you're with Geto. His presence is everywhere, a blanket of protection bestowed only to you. These days, you feel safe even when walking home alone at night.

The trips aren't too bad, but Gojo's insistence on tagging along changed even that.

You should be sitting up front. There's a perfectly vacate passenger seat, right beside Ijichi, the least dangerous man in the vehicle. Gojo had practically dragged you into the car with him, holding you hostage. Geto slid into the seat beside you, effectively trapping you between the two men.

Despite your attempts to keep your body to yourself, every other minute, your thighs brush against theirs. It's a miserable affair, but neither comment on your breach of personal space. They're both too invested in their own little worlds. Geto peers peacefully out the window, enjoying the city life pass by. Gojo is glued to his phone, tapping away every so often.

It's tempting to sneak a peek at them in their natural states, relaxed, unbothered. You don't stare for too long.

Every so often, their worlds will collide. Geto will point out a cat. Gojo would reach over you, showing Geto something funny on his phone. Unfortunately, Gojo catches your lingering eyes.

"Wanna see?" He doesn't bother to hear your response, shoving his phone in your face.

It's a cat video, of all things. You almost wanted to laugh at how normal it is, but you're too intimidated to do anything but give a strained smile, more designed to please. You expected something darker. More blood. More screams. On the screen, the orange kitten lightly bats at a ball of yarn.

"Got a cat?" Gojo asks, tucking away his phone.

"No, Mr. Gojo."

He tsks, but before your blood can freeze, he says, "I told you: It's Satoru."

He's been insistent about it these past few days: Satoru. Satoru. Call me Satoru, as though you'd even dare. Beside you, Geto rumbles out his disapproval.

"Don't be childish, Satoru." He chides.

The car rolls to a stop eventually. The relief in your lungs expands. Ijichi gets out first, followed by Geto. Before you can move, a hand grabs you by the chin, halting your movements.

"You're not leaving this car until you say it, pretty thing," Gojo tells you. "C'mon. Sa-to-ru."

Behind you, Geto sighs, but he doesn't move to stop him. Right, Geto promised he'd step in only when Gojo goes too far. Clearly, this is within his bounds.

You wilt under the hardened tanzanite.

"Satoru." You mutter.

Satisfied, Gojo releases his hold on you, hopping out the car, humming a happy tune.

Geto holds his hand out to you. You'd be an idiot not to take it.

"Bear with him today, dear," he tells you when you step out in the pavement, "he's in a mood."

Amythyst sears into you. You can only nod.

Even then, Geto doesn't release you. He gently maneuvers your arm until your elbow is interlocked with his. He takes his time, walking into the building, mindful of your heels. Ijichi and Gojo are already ahead. Gojo takes a look behind him, spots the two of you, scoffs, but doesn't do much more.

It's another thing you don't know how to feel about. The two have always instigated less than friendly gestures toward you. Yet, neither of the two have expressed any kind of jealousy. You know they are clearly lovers, yet the way they allow their significant other to behave with you makes you feel a bit nauseous.

Most likely, they see you as a pet. Not even a threat to their relationship. It makes sense. In their eyes, you're probably a scared gazelle in the middle of a lion's den. Cute. Something to play with.

There's another theory in your head that you're pushing away.

You follow the same procedure you've always followed. You stay still and silent, like a doll, right beside Geto. Strange men come up to him, greeting him with smug smiles. They barely give you a glance. That's good. It means they know you're one of Geto's.

Gojo being there changes the dynamic. He's more serious, in this setting. You sit right next to Geto's side, listening as Gojo talks. They both do that a lot. Talking. Negotiating. Scheming. You're a bit disappointed in yourself at how easy it is to let the words swirl around until there's nothing left to understand. It's easy to ignore them now. The horrors they partake in. The horrors you are indirectly part of.

Are you allowed to be innocent now that you work under these people? You've never pulled the trigger yourself, but is that an excuse? Morally speaking, you're the same as the men you are terrified of.

How laughable. You came to that conclusion right when they were discussing the price of narcotics.

Sometime later, you find yourself alone, roaming down an unfamiliar hall. It's foolish to be out without Geto or Gojo or even Ijichi, but Geto had an errand he wanted you to run. Now that it was complete, you needed to return back to him.

Except, you had no clue where he was.

You were lost. You should have known this would happen. Why didn't you pay more attention to where you were going? This wasn't any old building. Dangerous men lurked around, even the weaker ones carried guns and weapons.

It was only a matter of time before one of them caught you.

"Hey. You."

You were considered one of Geto's, but without him in sight, you were nothing. You knew that. It's why you cower immediately.

"I'm busy," you speak quickly, "My boss, Mr. Geto, he's—"

His hand is rough and scared and filthy on your skin. You are basically thrown against the wall, cornered against this stranger. He smiles. His teeth are yellowed and filled with tarter and plaque.

"C'mon, there's no need to rush. 'Just wanna have some fun. How much?" Disgust rolls off your tongue, but you don't have the courage to reveal it.

"I'm not like that," you mutter, "I'm not for sale."

But, aren't you? You've sold yourself to Geto, haven't you? Underneath his thumb, his whims. What makes you so much different from a hooker?

"Sure." And then there's a shift in his eyes. His face scrunches up, like he's just tasted something sour.

"Hold on...you're—you're that bastard's kid, aren't you?"

He says your last name, the name your father gave you with so much spite that you nearly flinch. In that moment, you realized that your father had messed with a lot more people than just Geto.

"Yeah yeah, you're a spitting fucking image!" He gripes you harsher. "Your daddy fucked me over while you're sitting over here nice and pretty? What the fuck?"

He's dead. He's dead and you hadn't spoken to him in over a decade, but his ghost still wants to punish you for being his kin. And this man is his executioner.

You're expecting something violent. Something that hurt more than his hand's squeezing your bicep. Perhaps he was, perhaps he would. Unfortunately, for him, Gojo interupted his plans.

You didn't even know that it was him, at first, on the floor, on top of the man. Gojo, despite his hungry smile, eager eyes, was always so angelic. He isn't supposed to be using his hands. He isn't supposed to inflict violence, not by himself.

He's punching him. The man isn't a man anymore, reduced to a mere punching back. Gojo doesn't stop until he breaks skin. He doesn't stop until you can hear a distinct crack.

Satoru doesn't stop until Suguru tells him to.

"Don't kill him." Geto warns. "It'd breach the agreement."

You can feel his presence, always silent, never revealing himself until he wants to be known. So unlike Gojo, who is hungry for even a second of attention. More than happy to spill blood over it.

Gojo grits his teeth, as though he's debating to even listen. He stands up eventually, chest heaving. His knuckles are caked in blood. It's not his. His glasses are off. His eyes are blown wide open like he's just hit the greatest high of his life. Geto calmly hands him a clean towel. You don’t want to know how many times this situation has repeated.

"Who gives a shit." Gojo bites out, his eyes , trailing to you, and you flinch away. He looks like a wild animal, growling and spitting. You don’t want to be next on his plate. Geto steps in front of you, barricading you from his sight.

The man on the ground had recovered enough to pathetically crawl away. It such a stark change to how he was just a few minutes ago, when he was lording over you, drunk off of his power.

Gojo steps on his calf. The broken thing gives a strangled scream. It only makes Gojo’s manic grin wider.

"Let him go. You made your point," Geto says, "calm down."

Firey blue eyes. Bright and violent. You don’t know how Suguru is able to withstand the intensity. Even you’re wilting when it’s not even directed towards you.

"Calm down?” Satoru asks. “You want me to calm down? Did you see what that bastard was gonna do to our—"

"Satoru." You've never heard Geto use this tone before. "Not here. Not now."

A silent battle warred between them. Tanzanite bore into amethyst. Which gem would rupture first, splinter into defeat?

Eventually, Gojo looks away, cursing. He glares down at you, as though he were blaming your weakness of all things. In a way, he’s not wrong to.

"I'll wait outside."

And then he's gone, striding down the corridor. Geto watches him go, before glancing down at you.

"Did he hurt you?" He asks.

You're not supposed to lie to him. You nod.

Geto pulls on your sleeves until he can see the imprints. Light bruising, nothing too horrible. You'll survive. Geto looks less than pleased. He glances down at the remnants of the man, the imprints of blood on the floor. You pitied the person who'd have to clean it up.

"I apologize, dear." He sighs. "I should have kept an eye on you."

He stares at the blood some more. Then, he smiles.

"Perhaps, it's better if I just let things run its course, this time."

You blink at him. He ignores your silent question. Instead, he wraps his arm around your shoulders, gently leading you outside. The car is already running. This time, Geto silently ushers you into the passenger seat. You take it immediately. Gojo hadn't taken his eyes off of you. You're grateful for any barrier.

This time, the car ride was silent. You don't relish in it. If anything, it just feels like the calm before the storm.

⟡

Soon, what Geto was talking about became apparent.

The man who had nearly been killed by Gojo had talked. You don't know what your father did to these men, perhaps you never will, but they didn't let you forget his crimes. If they couldn't get to him, then clearly, his kid was the next best option. You know it was them. It would be no one else.

Someone broke into your apartment one weekend. Everything was ruined. The TV was shattered and broken. Your mattress was tossed onto the floor. Every plate, cup, and bowl was smashed onto the floor. They took nothing, but they broke everything.

You hadn't been home that night. Ijichi needed more work from you. If you had, if you had come home that night, alone, locked the door, slept in that bed, then what would have—

Geto finds you on the stairs of your apartment, curled into a ball. You watch with bloodshot eyes as he observes the damage, clicking his tongue. He doesn't look particularly shocked.

You do nothing when you feel his hand on your shoulder, brushing against the sleeves, a feign of sympathy. You don't even care to ask how he came even though you never called him. Geto has a keen sense for you.

"It'll get worse." His voice comes. Soft, and sure.

Yeah, you knew that. You'd been naive, following after Geto with wide eyes. You thought that if he was untouchable, then so were you.

He speaks about an enemy group, people with debts with your father, just as he did. Of course, he knows who did this to you. You’d be more surprised if he didn’t.

You don’t care. His words go in one ear and out the other. The reasons don’t matter. Your home is still destroyed. It’s no longer yours.

"They got my phone, too," you mention to your discarded cell phone. "My emails, messages."

You're trapped, with nowhere else to turn. All the doors are shut and bolted, and only one remains open.

You turn to the devil.

"Can you...help?"

The angler fish uses its darkened habitat to its advantage. Hundreds of miles beneath the water's surface, it produces its own light as an olfactory bulb. It's an excellent predator, swinging its bio lantern around in the dark sea, the only light around for miles.

Geto tilts his head, a smile on perfect pink lips.

"You want my protection? It's a steep price, darling."

You feel like an empty well, forced to give and give until you're all dried up. Who could be so greedy? Who could be so willing to take?

"I've given you everything." It's barely a whisper. "What else do I have left to offer?"

He doesn't say anything to that, not at first. Geto kneels in front of you, a slender hand lifting your head up by the chin. Fingers trail down to your neck. Not choking, just holding. His thumb lightly presses into your throat.

"Not everything," Suguru says quietly.

He's right. You hadn't given him everything. So far, you have always been one of Geto's people. You were Geto's employee. You were indebted to him, but you weren't conquered by him.

Not yet.

He's kneeling in front of you, holding your soul in his hands and demanding for your heart. In a way, you find it a bit funny. You just don’t have the will to laugh anymore.

He's smiling again when he can tell you're finally starting to understand. "We couldn't have been that subtle, were we? Satoru never failed to express, at the very least."

No, they never tried to hide it. Even in the beginning, when you first met Suguru, you saw the hunger. You just tried to ignore it. You tried to keep your head in the sand, hoping it would pass. It makes you wonder if you had just agreed on that very night, led him into your bed, and bared it, would things have been different?

"I can leave. We can pretend this never happened," he coos, "it's all up to you, sweetheart."

He's making it seem like you had a choice. In a way, you did. You're choosing between two monsters. A known and an unknown. It takes longer than you'd like to figure out which one scares you more.

You take the bait. The angler fish siezes its prey.

"One night?" You're trying not to beg but it's coming out anyway. "Just—just one night?"

Geto leans forward, pressing a kiss on your forehead. It’s not an answer.

⟡

Despite the many months you've worked with him, you've never been to his home before.

It's not a house. A villa maybe. The property stretches itself stretches for miles. Filthy rich. Bleeding gold.

Geto—

("Suguru," he corrected you in the car, "considering this isn't really business, anymore.")

—had ushered you throw a double-door entrance. You couldn't even admire the architecture. Not when Gojo was already standing there. His eyes were hidden away, tucked underneath his glasses, but you still felt his stare. And all too wide smile stretched on his lips. He greeted Suguru with a kiss. For the first time, you looked down at their hands.

Matching rings.

You felt sick.

'It's all up to you, sweetheart' Suguru's voice rings through your head all through a dinner that's really nothing but a flimsy padding for the rest of the night. Food was served, wine was poured, all in a bid to ease you into it. As of right now, it's still your 'choice'. You know, without a doubt, if you backed out now, they'd let you go without a fuss. Suguru or Satoru themselves might drive you home. You'd crawl into bed without a scratch.

But you don't. You stare at your plate, picking at it when they ask questions. Satoru's in such a good mood he offers to feed you.

It's mostly because it doesn't feel real yet. You feel like you're watching yourself go through the movements. Eat. Speak when spoken to. Smile when prompted. Empty.

You only come back when you're standing in their room, and the door locks with a click.

The window blinds are drawn, but there's no light to seep in. The moon is already out. You wonder how many hours you've already spent here.

You take another step towards the bed. Then, you turn around.

Satoru and Suguru stare right back. You feel their heavy gazes immediately, flicking your eyes down to your feet, playing with your sleeves.

Satoru laughs, perceiving the terror as shyness, or maybe he doesn't care. He steps forward first.

"Don't be like that." He lightly chastises you, tucking one arm around your waist. "We'll be nice. Promise, baby. We're gonna be so so good for you."

He finds your lips, then. Satoru kisses like the sun, all fire and passion. Sinking into you, wanting to melt. It's impossible to turn away and ignore his presence. He gropes at your chest, your waist, trying to feel all of you at once. When he finally lets go, you feel dizzy.

Suguru's kisses ground you, makes remember where you are, who you're with. He's like the Earth you're crashing back into from your high. You hurdle through the atmosphere as his hands grasp at your throat. He never squeezes, but it's more than enough to sober you.

"You smell so nice, baby," Satoru says from his place at your neck. You flinch when teeth sink into your sink, but you don't complain.

"That's creepy, Satoru." Suguru chastizes him.

Serpentine eyes stare into yours. You don’t get the chance to hide before you feel his breath on your cheek. Suguru tugs at the hem of your dress.

“Take this off.” He whispers into your skin. “And get on the bed for us, sweetheart.”

This is the lesser monster. It’s a mantra you repeat in your head as you pliantly nod, hesitantly gripping the fabric of your dress. It’s horrifically easy to take it off and let it drop by your feet. You can’t bear to look at them anymore.

The soft duvet sinks under your weight. It looks expensive. Silky pillows. On either side is a nightstand covered with trinkets and personal items. You spot one of Suguru’s shirts on the floor, and it takes you a second to realize this is their room, not an impersonal guest room they use to fuck the less fortunate.

They stop paying attention to you. Satoru moans loudly into Suguru’s mouth. Suguru fiddles with the buttons on Satoru’s shirt, close to ripping it off entirely. Satoru palms at the tent in his pants as he unbuckles his pants. Suguru loosens his tie. They’re so violent with each other. Dread soaks through your palms, and you curl even further within yourself. You prayed this was all they wanted from you—someone to just watch, someone less interactive.

It’s not. When they pull away, their lips are swollen. Satoru leers at you, licking at his busted lip. You can’t seem to cry anymore.

They’re both half-naked. You can see the tattoos spread on Suguru’s hand, crawling up to his shoulder. Another peeks just behind Satoru’s neck. You only get a glimpse before he’s on top of you, eager for a continuation.

“Shit, you’re so soft.” He hisses as he squeezes your bra-covered breast. It doesn’t stay on for long. You wince when his fingers trace over your sensitive tits.

Your hands squeeze into fists, because you choose this, choose them. Satoru’s more than happy to sink into your breasts. His warm tongue swirls around a nipple before fully taking it in his mouth.

“Like a baby,” Suguru says. Satoru scoffs, tossing him an impressed look.

“Shut up.” Satoru releases your breast with a wet-sounding pop. They’ll be marks there tomorrow.

His fingers trail down your breasts, your ribs, your stomach. They linger on the band of your panties.

You can’t help it. It’s instinct.

He freezes when your fingers snap around his wrist. There’s no strength behind your grip, he pauses more out of surprise than anything.

His eyes, filled with hardened tanzanite, shoot up to yours. You think, if they’d be anyone else’s, you would have envied them.

He doesn’t say anything. Neither does Suguru. The silence is crushing.

“Sorry.” You feel pathetic apologizing, but it’s outweighed by the fear. “I—I’m sorry. I was just—”

“It’s okay, dear,” Suguru coos. “Satoru just scared you, hm? He’s such an idiot, isn’t he?” He violently smacks Satoru on the head. You flinch at the sound. Satoru just whines, rubbing at his temple.

“Mean.” Satoru childishly says, but he’s slower now, rolling down the hem of your panties.

Suguru is quick to distract you. He’s busy with his own bottoms before he’s taking you by the chin.

His cock is already leaking precum. He’s big, and you don’t think you’ll be able to do want he wants. Suguru smiles down at you, he doesn’t need to say anything. You’re swallowing down your self-hatred before opening your mouth.

You take him in just when Satoru buries his face between your thighs. The two of you have very different reacts. Satoru just hums, finding your clit to lick. You gasp, your legs jolting as you accidentally take Suguru even deeper.

He’s nice enough to let you go at your own pace. There’s a hand on your head, petting you, easing you through the process. Even then, your mouth is stretched uncomfortably wide. Tears prick at your eyes. Suguru’s face gets blurry. You don’t think you want to look anymore.

Below you, Satoru is enjoying his meal. He’s slobbering on your pussy, eating you out like it’s his last meal. His hot tongue finds his way into your sopping hole. You squeeze your eyes, a muffled whine comes from your mouth. The only loss of control Suguru shows was how he ever-so-slightly gripped your head.

By then, you’re unintentionally squeezing Satoru’s head in between your thighs. It’s so much. Pleasure tingles up your spine as Satoru continues to worship your pussy. His nose grinds into your clit and, for a moment, you’re wondering how he’s even breathing.

Suguru’s close. You can feel it every time his balls slap your chin. He’s speaking now, words stilted and heavy. It’s the only hint you get that he’s only holding his control by his teeth. That thought scares you. At any moment he’d snap, choking you with his cock, let you suffocate while he fills your dying mouth with his cum.

“Good,” he’s hissing out, “so good—good for me. C’mon, baby, take it.”

Satoru’s hand squeezes your ass, urging you to arch off the bed. You come like that, pressing your thighs around Satoru’s head, moaning around Suguru’s dick.

Suguru barely gives a grunt before something salty fills your mouth. You have to swallow it down. It burns your throat.

The air tastes sweet by the time Suguru’s cock leaves your mouth. You’re sucking in deep breaths, breasts heaving. Incidentally, you hadn’t suffocated Satoru. He’s kissing his way up your body. A trickle of Suguru’s cum had escaped your lips. His tongue presses against your chin before he pushes it back into your mouth. You can taste your tangy essence on his lips.

“Gotta’ swallow it all,” Satoru says with a teasing lilt, “he gets mad when it’s wasted.”

You can only nod. He gives you another wet kiss before he pulls away.

They switch places, Suguru moving over until he’s between your thighs. His large cock lays on your cunt. He’s still hard, his cock twitches when he angles his hips down, letting the head run over your leaking slit.

“The only reason he's going first is ‘cuz he’s been pining for you for months.” Satoru murmurs into your ear. Strangely enough, Suguru doesn’t comment. Your brain can’t work fast enough to comprehend what that means.

You hold your breath just as he presses himself inside. You’re almost grateful Satoru took the time to prepare you. His salivia, and your stretched walls make it easier for Suguru to bury his length inside you.

It doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. You hiss. Satoru feels enough sympathy to coo at you, kissing your neck, trying to distract you from the pain. It doesn't help, not even when Suguru presses light circles into your clit, easing his way through.

Suguru’s giving a harsh laugh when he’s fully seated inside, his hips meeting yours.

“Feel good, hm?” Satoru goads, reaching up to nibble on Suguru’s ear.

“Shit, so tight—fuck.”

Your hips twitch and you’re clenching down on him. Suguru doubles over, gritting his teeth.

“Oh, darling.” Scarred hands grasp your neck. “I’m going to ruin you, aren’t I?”

Your bottom lip wobbles. He’s eyeing you like a piece of meat. A gazelle in the lion’s den. To them, to men like them, you suppose you’re nothing more.

“Suguru.” You whisper because your voice is failing you. “You-you promised you’d be nice.”

Silence. And he’s laughing so hard his shoulders shake. They both are.

“We did promise that, didn’t we?” Suguru glances at Satoru. “Next time, then.”

He pulls his cock out of you slowly, dragging his head through your cunt. He’s so slow and deliberate that you think it’d feel better if he just went ahead and fucked you already.

And he was, technically. His hips rolled back into you, his cock disappearing inside your wet pussy with each thrust. It’s so much that you’re willingly arching your back, trying to do anything to alleviate the intensity.

Beside you, Satoru is pulling out his cock, his eyes never leaving the lewd sight of Suguru fucking himself into you.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” he’s cursing under his breath, fisting his cocl in one hand, “so fuckin’ hot.”

Suguru growls, grabbing Satoru’s stiff cock, crudely pumping his hand up and down. His movement are getting more erratic losing his pace, his patience. You’re at your end too, almost crying when someone squeezes your sensitive tits.

“How does it feel, darling?” Suguru asks with a ragged breath. His eyes are blown, you don’t even think he’s looking at you, anymore.

When you don't give an answer fast enough, Suguru snaps his hips punishingly in response. You give a sharp wail.

“I said.” Suguru hisses through his teeth. “Tell me how it feels.”

You can barely suck in a breath. You’re losing oxygen too fast.

But you’ll die if he keeps doing this.

“Good.” You tell the truth. “It—it feels good, Suguru.”

He grins, serpentine. You’ve lost a game you didn’t even know you were playing. His fingers descend on your clit.

“That’s my perfect darling.”

You sob when your walls clench around his cock, milking him dry. Your orgasm triggers his own. He curses, and something is spilled into your used cunt. Out the corner of your eye, Suguru and Satoru are kissing, going together like rabid dogs. Satoru shudders, and then all three of you are a panting mess.

You take in deep breaths, barely caring when Suguru lets out an exhausted laugh, collapsing into your chest. He licks at your sweaty skin. You just sink your head further into the pillows

It was over. It was finally over.

“You got it everywhere.” Suguru suddenly says, disgusted. He wipes Satoru’s cum off your stomach.

Satoru just snorts.

“I didn’t have a hole to dump it all in.” He snarks back. “Twice, by the way. So selfish, Sugu.”

“Quit whining.” Suguru groans. “You have your chance now, don’t you?”

What? Exhaustion blinks away.

Suguru stays by your side. Gojo is the one moving, rising from the blankets. He places his hands on either side of your hips, spreading your legs.

Geto catches your panic, easily catching you before you can even do anything. He hushes you while Satoru settles himself between your thighs, his cock pressing right at your slit.

“The night’s still young, dear.” He sounds almost sympathetic. “Be good for just a bit longer.”

By the time they’re finally done with you, it’d been hours. You can’t count how many positions they put you in, how many times your holes were filled by their cocks or their fingers or their mouths. You’re barely coherent by the time Suguru is tucking you under the soft duvet.

You feel sore and used and dirty. His soft words, filled with praises, just make you feel worse. Despite how exhausted you feel, you’re just waiting until they finally get bored of seeing your body and kick you out.

You’ll call a cab home. You’ll cry yourself to sleep. You’ll be okay.

They’re taking a while to get to that part. They’re mumbling soft words too each other, it sounds too intimate to be something you should be overhearing. Satoru’s at your back, hands curling around your waist, another brushing Suguru’s mussed hair. You can feel his soft breath at the nape of your neck.

Suguru’s eyes are on you. Amethyst watches you intently.

"Satoru,” he finally says, “go uphold our end of the deal."

Gojo groans, annoyed. He snuggles closer to you. "Why me? You go do it."

An adoring smile crinkles on Suguru’s lips. It makes him look younger.

"Because I don't trust you alone with this one for the night. Go."

“Ass.”

He sighs, but Gojo sits up, letting the covers shift off his naked body.

"Stay right here for me, baby, 'kay?" He leans over, pressing a delicate kiss on your hairline. Despite everything that happened tonight, this was the most intimate thing he'd done to you. It's too...loving.

When Satoru leaves, you wait for a few moments. Suguru had yet to tell you to go. It probably meant that he didn’t want to waste his breath dismissing you. You take the hint, rising from the bed.

His fingers snap around you wrist just as your feet touch the floor.

“Where are you going?” His voice doesn’t sound accusatory, but you flinch anyway.

A wobbly smile makes its way across your face, you hope it comes across as submissive. Weren’t you done? The deal was made, that meant you could leave now, right?

"I—I need to go home?" Suguru gives a doting smile, as though you said something adoringly naive. He barely pulls on your hand, gently leading you back under the covers.

You follow because the gun glints by the nightstand.

“Is that the best idea right now, dear?” He asks, “Who knows if those men have come back? I’d hate to see them find their target, wouldn’t you?”

He draws you into his chest. Your head is tucked underneath his chin.

“And besides, Satoru will be disappointed if you left without saying goodbye. It’d be horrible to deal with one of his tantrums so late at night.”

He buries his face into your hair, inhaling your scent.

“Why don’t you leave in the morning? I’ll be sure to drive you back myself. By then, I’m sure Satoru will have made the proper arrangements. Don’t tell him I told you this, but—” Suguru drops his voice as though he’s scared someone might overhear”—he tends to be more efficient when you’re in the picture.”

You don’t know what he means by that, and you don’t think you want to know. Still, you lift your head, finding the courage to stare at him.

His eyes are such a beautiful color. Glittering purple in the moonlight. You’d stare at them all night if you could.

“I can leave in the morning?”

Suguru hums, kissing your forehead.

It’s not an answer.

#yandere jjk #yandere #dark jjk #dark gojo satoru #dark content #yandere gojo satoru #non con touching #yandere geto suguru #dark geto suguru #dark satosugu #yandere satosugu #tw:blood #tw:noncon/dubcon

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rmbunnie · 3 months ago

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I see so much of "is post-crisis Robin Jason an innocent little sweetie-pie or a mean aggro delinquent" and after reading through all of his batman and detective comic issues post-crisis I think i can safely say he's... an introverted and distrustful, but altogether friendly teen boy who has convinced himself to the deepest level that he is an Adult Man, and also does not hold a particularly good view of adults.

The sweet little babypie characterization falls a little short (assuming we aren't being too silly with it, there's plenty of that in the comedy issues of tec) because it disregards the part where he's a jaded teenager who is constantly going off and trying to take care of his own problems like "his own man" and reacts negatively to any breach of trust or move to take care of him. But negative doesn't mean "violent and rageful." The delinquent angle is incorrect because not only is his disposition peppy, silly, and agreeable most of the time, but assuming the problem upsetting him isn't a predator or the guy who killed his dad (and three out of four canon instances it is a predator to be clear) he reacts to emotional turmoil with Bruce by bedrotting, sulking, communicating through notes, and overall being avoidant. The only times he lashes out are when Bruce is calling him out or after Bruce told him to his face that he chose to look for the Joker over looking for him, and that case of "lashing out" is just getting a little snarky.

More than anything his main personality trait (besides being silly, a robin staple) is kinda coming into this parentified as fuck. Not that it's Catherine's fault, but it really shaped his character, like one of the first things he says to Bruce (after he promised not to turn Jason in to the foster system) is that he kept her fed and warm as long as he could like he wasn't her ten year old child when he started. It's why he views himself on the same level as adults and why he gets all closed off at any insinuation that he needs to be taken care of, both of which heavily inform his dynamic with Bruce. He's constantly checking in on Bruce's wellbeing, like half of Batman: the Cult is just him taking care of Bruce while he recuperates from being brainwashed. (Side note, he's also constantly asking Bruce stuff like "what's your relationship like with this woman or this rogue or the concept of religion, how did that play out, how do you feel about it?" he is Very chatty like that.) The first thing he does when Sheila tells him her (revised to exclude medical malpractice) life story is hold HER and try to affirm her struggle. After a while he starts to act more childish with Bruce (although he doesn't really stop trying to brush off attempts to care for him) but as soon as Bruce admits he prioritized crimefighting over Jason and didn't show up to look after Jason like Jason assumed he came there for, Jason snaps back to acting very independent and rejecting any attempts to be looked after on any terms other than some kind of "equals" thing, which he isn't, as he's a 15 year old boy. Like. He's very sweet to his former neighbor, but also he refers to being a homeless child and the sole provider in his condemned building living situation as "getting by" to her.

He's definitely not. some bloodthirsty delinquent, at least to anyone who's not an uber-misogynistic predator, and he like demonstrably is a pretty sweet kid. It's just that when people say he's a sweet kid they kinda just jump to "untraumatized eight-year-old who grew up in a loving family and just got a new puppy from Santa" instead of "good hearted and curious teenager who has trust issues and is deeply uncomfortable with being taken care of, so kinda just compromises by pretending his dad is a Friend Doing him a Solid and acts like his kid only when he has plausible deniability so he can't get the rug pulled out from under him." Of course. He does kinda get the rug pulled out from under him despite all that. So there's that.

#I have more to say on his search for his mom and his drastic mood shift because there's some weird stuff surrounding that #but this is getting long anyways #jason's time as robin is comically traumatic bro #boom your dad got killed and Bruce hid it boom dead body sewer boom serial killer putting women in dumpsters boom the filipe situation #just a mess #his only wrongdoing as robin was meeting Ronald Reagan #jason todd #robin #bruce wayne #batman #dc comics

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yandere-romanticaa · 9 months ago

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she walks in beauty.

🎀 Today is Diluc's birthday. However, instead of focusing on himself, he can't help but to fall into his usual lovesick trap of gentle obsession.

yandere! diluc ragnvidr x fem! reader.

Ever since he was a young lad, Diluc could recall every single banquet and celebration which was hosted by the Dawn Winery estate. He could still sense the smell of various colorful liquors and taste the endless sea of pastries and cakes which were served at such events, making the inner child in him smile.

However, Diluc was no longer a young child.

Ever since the passing of his father, the need to throw any grand banquets was thoroughly diminished. While yes, there were certain things he could not avoid due to societal expectations, he still made the decision to keep things to an absolute minimum.

His birthday was not one of them. At least, not by his choice.

Everyone and their mother knew what day it was today and Diluc lost count with how many birthday wishes and gifts he had received. He was a little touched with the plethora of people who wanted him nothing other than joy, but those same people quickly became a nuisance because he could not seem to be with the one he actually wanted to be with today.

And there stood Diluc, hidden in the shadowy hallway as he watched his beloved prepare for the upcoming festivities. With both his arms crossed and his left side pressed firmly against the dark wood doorframe, Diluc decided in that moment that there was nowhere else he'd rather be than here.

His red eyes watched you thoroughly like a hawk, making sure to remember the ravishing scenery before him.

As much as you disliked his gifts, you didn't have a choice but to accept them this evening. The gentle sapphire necklace hung around your neck perfectly, the fine silver glimmering gently beneath the flickering candle flames. Diluc's gaze quickly shifted to your arms as they toyed with the various strands of hair at the top of your head, carefully adjusting the matching pin he had gotten you not too long ago.

He felt his heart skip a beat once he caught a glimpse of the wedding ring on your finger, causing him to nearly lose his composure and blow his cover altogether. His own ring seemed to come alive as he felt it around his finger, seemingly pulsing with a firey need to just take you, to see the light in your eyes, to beg you to please forgive him-

Even now, he could still hear you weep, for each tear felt like a stab straight into his bleeding heart.

Please, don't lock me away, you pleaded.

"I will be with no one but you. I will give you everything you desire but please Diluc-

Do not keep me as a prisoner!"

He sighed as he fidgeted with his gloved fingers. Diluc hated himself for doing this to you, for making you so utterly miserable. He was the one who took you away, it was him who had stolen that precious smile away from you. If you had been a normal couple perhaps this evening could have been more bearable. Perhaps he could have even enjoyed it, with you by his side.

But that was not how things were going to play out.

Diluc was stuck in a Hell of his own making. Every single tear that you had shed and will shed - that was all on him. Money can buy a lot of things but your love was not one of them. A new surge of determination was born deep inside of Diluc on that night of his birthday and he finally knew what his wish was.

He wished to make amends. Perhaps he could learn to live without your love, even if the mere thought made his teeth shake in fury and heart cry out in blind sorrow.

But he needed you to know that you were loved. He needed you to know that he was going to keep you safe. He was going to love you until his very last breath and even then, he would wait for the day of your sweet forgiveness.

🥀 TAGS: @genshinarchives, @mod-kisa-blog, @juuuuuj101010, @kalopses-sonderes, @mayulli, @b10h4z4rd, @xiaopleasecomehome, @saturnalya, @alatusprinz, @lakxcpsta, @mewmeowmika, @ranposgirlboss, @goldenglow149

Happy birthday to this wonderful man. He was my first ever husband in Genshin Impact, he deserves something extra sweet from yours truly.

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dragon-ascent · 10 months ago

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Zhongli wants you to go to bed early. You're a night owl. Shenanigans ensue.

✩彡 fluffy domesticity + a lil suggestive!

Besides the fact that Zhongli's body composition is literally inhuman, he is a very healthy man with healthy habits. Wakes up early and exercises, drinks plenty of water, eats clean. Ever since becoming your husband, he's tried to rub some of those off on you as well.

Currently he's gripping your waist, gently trying to pull you away from the couch that you're so desperately clawing at like a wet cat. "No! I want to stay awake and do fun things!" you yowl.

"You can do fun things tomorrow, my love." Zhongli succeeds in pulling you away, promptly scooping you up bridal-style and carrying you back to the bedroom. "The bags under your poor eyes beg to be taken care of. When was the last time you had a good night's sleep? It is already an hour to midnight, and you promised you would come to bed with me." He plops you in bed.

"Once, many years ago, I had a good night's sleep..." You stare out the window dramatically. Instead of a flashback ensuing, however, your husband wraps you up all snug in a blanket. You scowl at him, a silly little blanket burrito scowling at the god, which makes him chuckle.

He plants a fat kiss on your forehead and goes to put out the night-candle. However, he turns when he hears you shifting around. "Darling, please, I want you to-"

"I'm a ghost! Ooooooo!" You wave your arms around, having turned the blanket burrito into a drape over your head, your feet poking out at the bottom.

"My love, your feet will get cold."

"Oooooo!" you emphasize again, getting off the bed and padding in his direction with your arms out in front of you. "I'm going to haunt you, Zhongliiiii~!"

Zhongli simply picks you back up again. "How frightening. I quiver at the thought." Back in bed he plants you, laying you down.

You shoot back up like clockwork, repositioning the blanket with a grin before he can. "Now I'm Little Red Riding Hood! And you're a wolf! I must flee!"

Before he can react, you've bounded out the room and back into the living room, waiting eagerly to see if your husband will follow. Unfortunately, Zhongli is not human, so he simply materialises behind you and picks you up, avoiding the chase altogether.

You squeal. "I forgot you could do that!"

"It would do you well to remember," replies Zhongli, with a light tap to your butt as he brings you back to bed - again. This time though, he lays you down and then lays on top of you, practically smothering you.

You squirm. "Hey! No fair!"

“If necessary, I shall stay atop you all night.”

“Oh?” You blush. "On top of me all night..?"

Zhongli seems to have realised the implication of what he’s said, for his cheeks begin to temper red. He coughs. “That is…not what I meant.”

That doesn't do anything to alleviate your flustered self - Zhongli makes to get up off you, but he seems to have changed his mind; his eyes gleam for a moment.

"But it could be," he adds silkily, sliding a hand under your shirt, fingers meeting bare skin. "And by the end of it, you will fall asleep of exhaustion."

You eye him in anticipation as he locks fingers with yours, your heartbeat quickening in sync with his. It's a night to remember, but he makes good on his promise.

#sini writes #zhongli #genshin impact #zhongli x reader #fluff #drabble #suggestive

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sgt-tombstone · 3 months ago

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Like A Baby

————

Ghost sleeps like he’s in a coffin

On his back, straight as a board, arms crossed over his chest, the whole nine yards

When Soap and Gaz see him do it for the first time in the field, they think it’s a joke, that he’s leaned into the whole Ghost thing a little too hard. They think it’s funny, albeit slightly disconcerting

But over the course of several missions, they realize that Simon genuinely has no idea that he does it. He goes to sleep laying down like anyone else, in whatever position is most comfortable in the middle of an op, but as soon as he slips unconscious, his body naturally arranges itself into the most macabre position possible

They want to tell him about it so badly, but Price convinces them not to. He doesn’t tell them why, he just says that it would be a bad idea, and they trust him enough not to push it

Until Soap lets it slip one night while they’re at a bar, makes a stupid joke about Ghost “sleeping like the dead” that Gaz laughs a little too hard at and they only realize their mistake when Ghost’s eyebrows knit in confusion. So they fess up, reluctantly, and tell him that he sleeps like a corpse. Arms crossed and everything. He refuses to believe it at first, because denial has always worked for him in the past, and he wouldn’t put it past the sergeants to pull his chain like this, especially since they don’t know. But then Soap says he’ll snap a picture the next time he sees it and Ghost starts to get scared

Sure enough, two weeks later finds them in the middle of fucking nowhere in the middle of the fucking night, and Ghost settles down against a wall that’s more rubble than structure. He resolutely stays sitting up because he desperately wants to prove the sergeants wrong, but as soon as he falls asleep, his body slumps over and turns until he’s on his back, arms crossed, spine straight. Soap snaps his picture and feels guilty about it all night

When he wakes up the next morning, Ghost’s first words to him are, “show me,” and Soap should know better but apparently he doesn’t because he pulls up the picture. It’s dark and slightly blurry but unmistakable. Like a fucking corpse

It sends Ghost into a tailspin. The only reason why he doesn’t lose it completely is because Price is there to hold him together. Instead, he shuts down. It feels like a betrayal from his own body, his own mind. It’s a sick joke, a cosmic ‘fuck you’, a trauma response of epic proportions. He’d escaped his own grave, but apparently his sleeping mind didn’t know that

When they get back to base, no one sees or hears from Ghost for close to three weeks. Soap is losing his mind, Gaz is ready to tear the base apart to find him, and even Price (usually very used to Ghost’s moods) is visibly worried. Finally, Soap corners him in the sniper tower where he’s been taking stim packs and caffeine pills in an attempt to avoid sleep altogether. Soap damn near drags him, stumbling and off balance from exhaustion, to bed. Despite how tired he is, he can’t fall asleep, his heart and mind racing with panic at the thought of his unconscious body forcing him to become a corpse again

Right up until Johnny lays down next to him. And then his mind goes blissfully quiet. His heart is still pounding, but for a completely different reason as Johnny curls his body around Simon’s, arranging their limbs in such a way that Simon couldn’t possibly straighten out. It’s the warmest he’s ever been, the most comfortable he’s ever been. With his arms around Johnny and Johnny’s head tucked under his chin, he falls asleep effortlessly

When he wakes up, the first thing he mumbles is, “how did I…?” but he can’t bring himself to finish it, terrified of the answer. Johnny just smiles up at him, mohawk askew and cheek creased from being pressed against Simon’s shirt all night, and says, “like a baby.”

Simon never sleeps like he’s in a coffin ever again

#idk I think it’s interesting if Ghost’s trauma is remembered by his body but not necessarily his mind #trauma built into his bones and muscles but not his brain #call of duty #cod #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghoap #ghostsoap #soapghost #john price #kyle gaz garrick #tombstone's epitaphs #tombstone's ficlets

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urfavfrenchgrl · 3 months ago

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muggle studies

Mattheo Riddle x F!Reader ᥫ᭡ words: 2k ᥫ᭡ warnings: 18+ | SMUT | MDNI | public fingerfucking ᥫ᭡ summary: you cheated on your boyfriend with your best friend My first one shot omfg I hope you guys enjoy 🥹 For those who know me on Wattpad or A03, this passage was adapted from one of my fics for Tumblr.

You wandered through the winding corridors of Hogwarts, the familiar sound of your footsteps echoing softly off the stone walls. Your hands were buried deep in the pockets of your house robe, seeking warmth against the cool draft of the castle. Your stomach churned, a physical reminder of the breakfast you had skipped, choosing instead to avoid the Great Hall altogether. You couldn’t risk seeing either Mattheo or Cedric—both of whom you hadn’t spoken to since the Yule Ball.

You and Cedric had been dating for two months. He wasn’t someone you were in love with, not really, but he was kind, reliable, and he took good care of you. There was a comfort in the stability he offered, something safe and predictable, even if your heart wasn’t entirely in it. But now, with everything that had happened, facing him felt impossible.

Your heart clenched at the thought of Cedric. Facing him now seemed impossible, especially with the weight of your secret pressing down on you like a boulder. The memory of your night with Mattheo still lingered, a dangerous mix of regret and yearning that sent an unexpected warmth between your legs whenever it crossed your mind. It had been a fleeting moment of weakness, a slip in judgment that you couldn’t afford to admit, even to yourself.

You and Mattheo had been best friends since your second year at Hogwarts, inseparable from the start. He had always been like a big brother to you—protective, loyal, and always by your side.

But something had shifted in recent months. The lines between friendship and something more had started to blur. You found yourself noticing things about him you hadn’t before—the way his dark eyes lingered on yours a moment too long, the sharp curve of his smirk that sent your heart racing. It confused you at first, but the more time you spent together, the more your feelings deepened, until you could no longer deny that you saw him differently.

And then came the ball.

Just as you reached the heavy wooden door of your classroom, the last voice you wanted to hear cut through the air behind you, freezing you in place.

“Hey, Y/N!” Cedric’s voice, warm and full of affection, called out. You closed your eyes briefly, taking a deep breath to steady yourself before turning around with what you hoped was a convincing smile.

Cedric’s face lit up as he strode towards you, his kind eyes crinkling at the corners. He cupped your cheeks between his hands and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, sending a fresh wave of guilt crashing through you. You could barely look him in the eye, knowing what you had done—what you had betrayed.

“Good morning to you too,” you murmured with a soft laugh, stepping back, though the smile never fully reached your eyes.

“I didn’t see you yesterday, or this morning,” Cedric said, his brows knitting together slightly in concern. “Are you avoiding me?”

His tone was gentle, but the question made your stomach twist in knots. What could you say? That you had been running away from your own guilt, from the look in his eyes that always made you feel safe, but now only reminded you of your betrayal?

“What? No! Why would I avoid you?” you forced the words out with a light chuckle, hoping they would come across as casual, though the weight of your actions made you feel anything but.

Stay calm, you thought. You have to keep it together.

“If it’s about the ball… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left like that,” Cedric said softly, his voice filled with regret. He looked down, his expression pained, as if it was his fault for leaving too soon. But you knew the truth. Cedric had waited for you, and when you showed up late, frustrated and embarrassed, he had left. You had been upset too—enough to leave the ball and end up in his best friend’s arms that night.

“It’s nothing, Cedric, really,” you reassured him, though your voice felt hollow. Over his shoulder, your eyes caught a familiar figure leaning against the stone wall further down the hall—Mattheo Riddle, his dark eyes fixed on you with that same dangerous glint.

Your throat tightened, your pulse quickening at the sight of him. You quickly tore your gaze away, focusing back on Cedric.

“I should get to class now,” you said, your voice soft as you brushed a hand over his cheek, forcing yourself to smile. “I’ll see you later?”

“Tonight in my dorm?” Cedric suggested, his smile so pure, so trusting. “The guys will be out at Quidditch practice, so we can watch a movie… just us.”

“Yeah… sounds perfect,” you replied, though the guilt gnawed at your insides like a beast you couldn’t tame. Cedric kissed your cheek and waved goodbye, disappearing down the corridor.

You were in deeper than you thought.

The moment you entered the classroom, you made a beeline for your usual seat at the back of the room, hoping for a moment of peace. You began unpacking your things, your mind racing, but before you could settle in, someone slid into the seat next to you.

You didn’t have to look to know who it was.

“That’s not your seat,” you said flatly, not bothering to glance at Mattheo, who leaned back in his chair with that infuriating smirk on his face.

“It is now,” he replied casually, his voice low and teasing.

You rolled your eyes, biting back a retort. You didn’t have the energy to argue with him today, not when your mind was already a storm of guilt and confusion. But when Ron Weasley walked into the room, sporting a fresh black eye, you turned to Mattheo, your anger rising.

“Tell me you didn’t do that,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, though the accusation hung heavy in the air between you.

Mattheo’s smirk widened. “He had it coming.”

Your jaw clenched, and for a brief moment, you wondered if Mattheo had done it out of jealousy because you and Ron had talked for a long moment during the ball before you rejected his advances. But you pushed the thought away, shaking your head. Ron could be a jerk sometimes, but he didn’t deserve this.

“You really don’t know how to behave, do you?” you muttered under your breath as Professor Rowle began the lesson.

Mattheo chuckled darkly beside you. “Not really.” His hand slid under the desk, finding its way to your bare thigh, his fingers brushing against your skin.

Your breath hitched, your body betraying you as a heat spread through you once more. You clenched your fists, trying to focus on the lesson, but Mattheo’s touch made it impossible. His hand slowly inched higher, his fingers teasing the edge of your underwear.

“Mattheo…” you whispered, your voice trembling, your face flushed with both embarrassment and desire.

“Shh…” he whispered back, his breath warm against your ear as his hand continued its slow, torturous movements.

The sensation sent a shiver of anticipation through you, your heart pounding in your chest as Mattheo’s fingers brushed the fabric of your underwear, teasing you with maddening slowness.

“You’d better stay quiet for me, alright?” Mattheo murmured, his voice a dangerous whisper full of promise.

You squeezed the edge of your desk, your breath coming in shallow gasps as your mind spiraled between guilt, desire, and the impossible situation you had found yourself in.

With a surge of confidence, Mattheo’s hand slipped further under your skirt, his fingers gliding beneath the fabric of your underwear with practiced ease. The moment his fingers found your wetness, your breath hitched, a wave of heat spreading through your body as his touch sent ripples of sensation coursing through you.

A soft, involuntary moan escaped your lips, and you bit down on it immediately, trying to maintain some semblance of control. But it was impossible. The way Mattheo’s fingers moved—slow, deliberate, teasing—ignited something deep within you. His touch was maddeningly light at first, barely grazing your skin, but that only made the ache inside you more unbearable.

Mattheo’s mind wasn’t as calm as his outward expression suggested. Seeing you with Cedric just moments earlier had ignited a fire of jealousy within him. You were still with Cedric—perfect, dependable Cedric—when Mattheo knew that only he could make you feel this way. No one else could push you to the edge like this, and the thought of you being with anyone else—especially Cedric—drove him mad.

His fingers moved with calculated precision, each stroke a reminder that you were his, even if you wouldn’t admit it. You might still be with Cedric, but right now, you were here with Mattheo, your body responding to his touch in ways Cedric could never make it. He was the only one who could drive you to this point, and he knew it.

Without warning, Mattheo slipped two fingers inside you, rough and deliberate, making you gasp. The sudden intrusion sent a shockwave of pleasure through your body, your breath catching in your throat as your legs instinctively clenched around him. His smirk only deepened as he watched you struggle to maintain control, knowing that the raw intensity of his touch was exactly what you craved, even if you wouldn’t say it aloud.

"Such a good girl for me," Mattheo whispered in your ear, his voice laced with arrogance and desire. His fingers moved faster now, more insistent, as if to remind you of who really had control over you.

A shiver ran down your spine at his words, your body arching into his touch. Your breath became ragged, your chest rising and falling quickly as you struggled to hold yourself together. But it was impossible. His fingers stroked you with relentless precision, pushing you closer and closer to the edge, until the tension inside you became too much to bear.

“Mattheo, please…” you whimpered, your voice barely a whisper, desperate for release.

He chuckled softly, clearly enjoying how you fell apart under his touch. His fingers pressed deeper, drawing slow, maddening circles that made your entire body tremble. "Let go, baby," he whispered again, his breath hot against your ear. "Come for me."

Your body responded instinctively, trembling as the coil of pleasure inside you finally snapped. A rush of heat overwhelmed you, your release crashing over you like a wave as your muscles tensed, your thighs clenching around his hand. You tried to stifle the moan that rose in your throat, biting your lip as the pleasure coursed through you.

Mattheo’s smirk grew wider as he watched you fall apart, his fingers still moving, drawing out your pleasure until you were trembling beneath his touch. Finally, he withdrew his hand, slick with your arousal, and brought his fingers to his lips, his eyes locking on yours as he slowly licked them clean.

"I hate you…" you whispered, your voice breathless and weak as you tried to catch your breath.

Mattheo chuckled, wiping his hand on his trousers with casual indifference. "No, you don’t," he murmured arrogantly, his gaze still fixed on you. "But you will."

His heart was still racing with the jealousy and possessiveness that had been gnawing at him since that night at the ball. Seeing you with Cedric had only made it worse. He wanted to remind you, selfishly, that only he could make you feel like this. Cedric could never compete, and Mattheo needed you to know that.

You glared at him, your chest still heaving as you tried to regain control of yourself. You had crossed yet another line, one that you knew you shouldn’t have. And the worst part was, you knew Mattheo had done it on purpose—every touch, every tease, designed to remind you that you belonged to him in ways you could never admit out loud.

Mattheo Riddle was going to be the death of you.

And the worst part? You weren’t even sure you wanted him to stop.

#mattheo riddle #slytherin boys x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo smut #harry potter #slytherin boys #hogwarts #slytherin boys smut #matt riddle #smut #urfavfrenchgrl🤍

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karlydraws · 1 year ago

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SWAP AU

(a.k.a. Integration* AU)

"Wake up, brother. No time for sulking. We have a work to do."

Team Knives 🔪

Nai and Cleric Bluesummers

Team Vash 🌺

Cleric Wolfwood, Cleric Livio, and Vash

About the lore(?) Under the cut!

So. Um. It's a typical Swap AU where Knives is trying to save humanity and Vash annihilate it.

But not out of hatred; instead Vash loves mankind so much he wants to save them from human suffering altogether by fully merging them with the Plants.

By merging, Plants become independent like himself and humans become (almost) immortal. No hunger, pain, or disease. But instead human subjects lose free will, or can get killed by the process. Utter Human-Plant Integration, thus "Integration AU"

Vash have amassed some zealots through his own religion (like Knives did in the canon) and the most devoted of them become "the Clerics" (Gung-ho Guns). Cleric Bluesummers however had a change of his heart and joined Knives on his mission to stop Vash. Because I can't separate millionsummers

All Clerics wear 'clerical collar' like things, but they differ in style. (e.g. woowoo's chocker)

Morality

Knives WILL kill if necessary, but not willingly. He will avoid if possible. Same goes to Legato. (Also... will do mercy killing at some point?)

Vash also will kill some if they are REALLY in the way, but mourns them deeply and weeps for days

About their powers:

Vash of course has higher capacity but his true Gate can only be open by Knives; making him essential for his plan. Without him he can only produce some plant material but can be deadly to human nonetheless. Same goes to knives; only few blades at a time, but still a deadly warrior (close-range fighter like Edward FMA). Also he carries a gun, since you can't really bring a knife to a gunfight?? Lol. he wears cropped jacket, so his gun is hidden on his sides, with a holster. Knives also can heal other plants, like Vash did in the canon.

I gave too much though on this and I don't have a life

#oh?? i didn't tag??#karly draws #trigun #trigun stampede #vashwood #millionsummers #vash the stampede #millions knives #legato bluesummers #nicholas d. wolfwood #livio the double fang #saverem twins #hopeland brothers #swap au #integration au #role swap au #trigun maximum

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baekhyunsbestie · 3 months ago

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──★ god is a woman ˙🧸ྀི ̟ !!

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 sum: you and your husband are completely smitten with your newborn baby, soaking in every moment of this new chapter in your life. but underneath it all, you can’t help but feel a lil insecure about your postpartum body. baekhyun, however, won’t hear any of it. what you don’t realize is that after watching what you went through bringing his beautiful, healthy daughter into the world, he sees you in an entirely new light. you created life—endured so much for him, for her, for your family. in his eyes, you’re a goddess, and he’s utterly devoted to you. and he's more than ready to show you just how much power you have over him.

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 content: SMUT. 18+/MDNI. 5.6k+ words. baekhyun x f!reader. you're a milf, baekhyun's a dilf, and he calls you "ma" + "mama" :'), married!au, new parents, slice of life, angst + fluff, pet names, body worship, breastfeeding kink, fingering + oral + overstim (f! receiving), unprotected sex, p in v, breeding kink, and a whole lot of baekhyun talking you through it 😮‍💨 phhheeeeewwwww

it’s a quiet evening at home. the low hum of the baby monitor fills the air as your newborn sleeps soundly in the next room. life had changed so much in such a short time, and yet, you couldn’t imagine anything more beautiful than this—being a mom, seeing baekhyun as a father, holding the tiny miracle the two of you had created together.

watching baekhyun cradle your baby, his soft voice murmuring sweet things as he gently rocked her to sleep, oh!—it melted your heart. he was so tender, so attentive. each time you saw him interact with your little one, it made you fall in love with him all over again. falling deeper and more intensely than you thought was possible. his fatherly side brought out something new in him, something that made your chest tighten with comfort. every smile, every quiet “i love you” he whispered to your baby girl made you feel incredibly blessed to say the least.

but there was something else—a heaviness you couldn’t shake, a shadow that loomed just behind the love and joy you felt.

the changes in your body had been gradual, but now, two months after giving birth, you couldn’t ignore them anymore. your body wasn’t the same. your belly hadn’t returned to its pre-pregnancy shape, your breasts were constantly swollen and sore, and your hips felt wider. you couldn’t even look at yourself in the mirror without that persistent sense of imperfection creeping in. you were supposed to feel proud of what your body had accomplished—bringing life into the world—but instead, a growing discomfort and insecurity washed over you every time you caught a glimpse of your reflection. it got to the point where you avoided mirrors altogether. while brushing your teeth, you’d stare down into the sink, and the same went for washing your face. on the rare occasions you did glance at your reflection, it was only for a fleeting moment before the negative thoughts made you turn away.

you loved your baby more than anything, and the life you had with her and baekhyun felt like a dream come true. but the nagging thoughts kept creeping in—what if he doesn’t find me attractive anymore? what if he notices how much i’ve changed and doesn’t want me the way he used to? fifty percent of marriages end in divorce... what if he ends up finding me so undesirable that we become part of that statistic?

it was a silent war within you, a conflict between the pure joy of motherhood and the insecurities that threatened to swallow you whole.

baekhyun had always been loving, supportive—everything you could ever ask for. but lately, you found yourself pulling away. since the baby was born, the intimacy between you had dwindled, and even after your doctor cleared you for sex a few weeks ago, you couldn’t bring yourself to let him in. every time his hands grazed your skin, every time he tried to initiate something, you instinctively recoiled, overwhelmed by the insecurity tormenting you. it wasn’t him—it was you. you couldn’t stop feeling embarrassed, ashamed of the way your body had changed, of the woman you saw in the mirror.

tonight was just like any other. lately, you’d developed a bad habit of comparing yourself to others on social media. as you mindlessly scrolled through instagram, your feed was filled with photos of celebrity and influencer moms. your curiosity got the better of you, and you started looking through their pages, feeling a wave of jealousy with each post.

they seemed to bounce back to their pre-baby bodies so quickly, showing off toned figures as if nothing had changed. each post served as a painful reminder of how far you felt from that ideal, feeding the insecurities already eating away at you. the more you scrolled, the heavier the feeling became, your own reflection feeling like a striking difference to the perfect images on your screen. you couldn’t help but question your body even more.

with a heavy sigh, you flung your phone across the room, no longer able to bear the relentless comparisons gnawing at you. it landed with a dull thud, but the weight in your chest remained, harsh like a gray storm cloud hovering just above you. you sat on the edge of the bed, hunched over with your elbows pressed into your knees, as if the weight of the world was pulling you down. your head rested in your hands, fingers curling through your hair like you were trying to hold yourself together, piece by piece, before you fell apart.

a whirlwind of love for your baby and frustration with yourself raged in your mind, drowning out everything else. you were so lost in the chaos of your thoughts that you didn’t even notice baekhyun’s return from the nursery until his gentle touch on your shoulder pulled you back to the present. startled, you glanced up, praying he wouldn’t see the sadness lodged in your eyes like shards of glass. but the worry etched into his features sent a sharp ache through your chest, and you could see the panic begin to flicker in his wide eyes.

“hey, what’s wrong, mama? you feelin’ alright?” he asked softly, kneeling in front of you, his hand brushing against your thigh.

you forced a smile, nodding, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “yeah, just tired,” you murmured.

baekhyun frowned slightly, his hand moving up to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your soft skin. “you’ve seemed distant lately,” he said, his voice low but filled with concern. “is everything okay? i mean… besides the baby and the lack of sleep?”

your throat tightened, the familiar lump of emotion rising as you struggled to find the words. you didn’t want to burden him with your insecurities, not when he was being such an amazing father and partner. but the weight of it all was too much to carry on your own.

“i just…” you began, your voice shaky as you looked away, unable to meet his eyes. “i don’t feel like myself anymore.”

baekhyun’s hand stilled, his eyes softening as he waited for you to continue. you took a deep breath, the words spilling out in a rush before you could stop them.

“i love her so much, baek. our baby… she’s everything to me. and every time i see you with her, it makes me fall for you all over again. you’re such an incredible dad, and i couldn’t have asked for a better partner to build a family with.” your voice trembled as you twisted the sheets between your fingers, the pressure behind your eyes building with unshed tears. “but... but i just can’t shake this feeling that i’m not enough anymore. i look at myself, and my body isn’t the same. i’m not the same. and i don’t know how to feel okay with that when i don’t recognize who i am in the mirror.”

baekhyun’s expression changed as he listened to you pour out everything you had been holding in, his heart breaking with each word. he had sensed the distance between you, the way you had pulled back, but he hadn’t fully understood the reasons behind it. he thought you just needed time to adjust to this new chapter in your lives. it was a significant change, and he knew how much you valued space when processing things, but he hadn’t realized it was tearing you apart like this. now, as he heard the depth of your pain and insecurities, guilt tightened in his chest for not recognizing it sooner.

the silence that lingers between you, coupled with your downcast gaze, speaks volumes. how could you possibly believe you weren’t beautiful anymore? he struggles to comprehend it, taken back by the thought. in truth, he has never found you more attractive than he does now. to him, you are a goddess, a magical being who has created and nurtured life. he holds you in the highest regard, without question.

“hey,” he whispered, his voice steady yet filled with emotion. “you’re more than enough, and you always have been. you’re still the same woman i fell in love with. and when i look at you... all i see is someone who’s perfect. you’re the most beautiful thing in my life.”

you shook your head, the tears finally spilling over as you buried your face in his shoulder. “you don’t understand, baekhyun. i don’t feel beautiful. i look at myself, and all i see is someone who’s… different. i don’t know if you can love me like this.”

“do you really think that?” he asks softly, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. “that i don’t think you’re beautiful? that i can’t love you the way you are?” his arms tightened around you, his breath warm against your hair as he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. “baby, i love you more now than i ever have,” he said softly, his voice filled with sincerity. he pulls away enough to look you in the eyes, “you gave me the most beautiful gift—the life we made together. how could i not love you more?”

you sniffled, your heart aching with a mix of love and insecurity. “but i’m not the same. my body… it’s changed so much.”

“i think you’re being too hard on yourself, 'ma,” he whispers softly. you can’t bear to meet his gaze; the moment you do, you know you’ll break. “it’s only been two months since you gave birth—just two months. it took you over nine to create her. even if it takes longer than that for you to feel like yourself again, i wouldn’t care. honestly, even if you never return to who you were, it wouldn’t matter to me. as long as you, my love, are happy and healthy, nothing else matters.”

his hands, warm and gentle, glide down your arms and rest on your waist, anchoring you in his affection. he leans down and presses a tender kiss to your stomach, his lips lingering as if savoring the bond between you.

baekhyun pulled back slightly, his fingers tilting your chin towards him so you were forced to meet his gaze. his eyes were filled with so much love, so much respect, that it nearly took your breath away.

“you are everything to me,” he says firmly, his thumbs gently wiping away the tears that finally escaped. “and this—” he gestures to your body, his eyes never leaving yours “—this body gave us our child. you carried our baby, you’ve sacrificed your sleep, your comfort, everything—and you’re still the most devastatingly beautiful person i’ve ever seen.”

he leaned in, his lips brushing softly against yours, his touch so tender it made your heart swell. “why don’t you let me show you?” he murmured against your lips, his hand slipping down to cup your waist. “let me show you how much i love every inch of you.”

you hesitated for a moment, the familiar insecurity rising in your chest, but when you looked into his eyes, all you saw was honest love and pure devotion. there wasn’t a trace of doubt, not an ounce of anything but pure adoration for you—for all of you.

with a soft nod, you gave in, letting baekhyun lead you further onto the bed, his hands moving slowly, reverently, as if worshipping every part of you. a rush of vulnerability washed over you as he slipped off your oversized shirt, revealing your post-pregnancy body in all its glory, leaving you in nothing but your underwear. despite the insecurity that bubbled within, his lips found your skin, kissing you as if he were rediscovering every curve. each kiss, each gentle touch, was infused with such deep care that it made your heart ache in the best way

when his lips found your breasts, swollen and sore from breastfeeding, you tensed for a moment, the self-consciousness flaring up again. but baekhyun paused, his lips pressing soft kisses to your skin as he whispered, “these are so beautiful.”

he gently kissed your sensitive nipples, his tongue flicking out to taste the sweetness there. you gasped at the sensation, your body responding in ways you hadn’t expected, the embarrassment fading under the warmth of his touch.

baekhyun's eyes darkened, a heated gaze sweeping over you. his breath caught as he took in the softness of your skin and the gentle curves of your body drawing him closer. in a husky whisper, he breathed, “god… you’re incredible. this body—how could you ever think i wouldn’t find it breathtaking?”

you try to cover yourself, but he gently pulls your hands away, pressing a soft kiss to your wrist.

“don’t hide from me,” he whispers, his voice loving as he presses his lips to the curve of your stomach, right where the stretch marks are the deepest. “these marks… they’re so pretty. they’re proof of everything you’ve done.”

his words make your heart clench, and when he places another kiss along the line of your abdomen, your breath hitches.

he looks up at you, his hands running gently over the soft skin of your hips before dipping lower to caress your thighs. his touch is slow, intentional, as if he’s taking his time to worship every part of you.

“you don’t know how much i love this body,” he murmurs, his hands sliding upward to cup your breasts. his thumbs graze over your sensitive nipples, making you gasp as a rush of pleasure shoots through you. “the way it’s changed… the way you’ve changed. you’re more than i could have ever asked for.”

you bite your lip as you watch his soft, slender hands continue their agonizingly slow exploration, your body responding despite the insecurity still clinging to your thoughts. he leans forward, brushing his lips against one of your breasts, his tongue flicking out to taste the milk that’s already beginning to leak from your nipple.

“baek—hah” you gasp, but the sound turns into a moan as his mouth closes around you, gently suckling.

the sensation sends a jolt of warmth through your core, your hands finding their way into his hair as he continues to worship you. his tongue is slow, deliberate, drawing out each drop of milk as if savoring the taste.

when he pulls back, his lips are slick, his eyes dark with a mix of love and desire.

“i could do this all night,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. “you don’t know how much i want you. how much i crave every part of you.”

is words wrap around your heart like a cozy embrace, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you begin to believe him. baekhyun shifts closer, bringing you face to face, his hands cradling your cheeks. the tip of his nose brushes against yours as he continues, “you’re perfect, and ’m gonna keep reminding you until you believe it.”

before you can respond, his lips crash into yours, a slow, consuming kiss that melts away every insecurity, every doubt. he kisses you like he’s trying to prove something—like he’s trying to show you just how much he means every word.

“relax f’me,” he whispers against your lips, his voice thick with need. you obey, sinking into the soft sheets as baekhyun hovers over you, eyes dark and focused entirely on you.

“you have no idea how much i’ve wanted this,” he murmurs, his hand sliding down your side, sending shivers across your skin. he presses a kiss to the swell of your breast, his tongue flicking out to circle your nipple, the sensitivity from breastfeeding making you gasp.

the sensation is unlike anything you’ve ever felt—raw, intimate, and so deeply connected that it makes your head spin. he groans softly against your skin, his hand kneading your other breast, coaxing out the milk that begins to flow. “ya taste s’good,” he murmurs between kisses, his tongue lapping at the milk that escapes. “so sweet.”

your cheeks burn at his words, but the way he worships you makes the embarrassment melt away, replaced by a deep, aching need. his lips continue their slow assault, drinking from you like he’s savoring every drop, and you’re helpless beneath him, your body responding to his every touch.

the pleasure is almost overwhelming, a slow, simmering heat that builds in your core. baekhyun’s free hand drifts lower, slipping beneath your underwear, his fingers sliding through your slick folds. you gasp at the contact, your hips bucking into his hand, desperate for more.

“you’re so wet f’me,” he whispers, his voice thick with desire as he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze. his fingers tease your entrance, his touch gentle but firm. “you like it when i drink from you, don’t you?”

you can only nod, too lost in the sensations to form a coherent response. baekhyun smirks, his thumb circling your clit as he presses a soft kiss to your chest, milk still glistening on his lips.

“i wanna hear ya say it,” he murmurs, his fingers sliding inside you slowly, stretching you in a way that makes your breath catch. “tell me how much you love this.”

you moan softly, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “i love it hah—i love it when you nngghhh—when y’drink from me.”

baekhyun groans in response, his fingers curling inside you, hitting that spot that makes your vision blur. “that’s right, mama,” he whispers, his voice low and rough. “i’m gonna make ya feel so good. you deserve it.”

his fingers pump into you steadily, his thumb never leaving your clit, and you feel yourself spiraling, the pleasure building higher and higher with each stroke. his mouth, his hands, the way he’s so focused on you—it’s all too much.

“b-baekhyun, i—” you can’t even finish the sentence, the words caught in your throat as the tension in your core tightens, pulling you closer and closer to the edge.

he looks up at you, his eyes dark with lust, and the sight of him—his lips wet from your milk, his fingers buried deep inside you—is enough to send you tumbling over the edge.

your orgasm crashes into you, your body trembling as you cry out his name. baekhyun’s mouth never leaves your breast, drinking from you as you fall apart beneath him, his fingers continuing their steady rhythm, drawing out every wave of pleasure until you’re completely spent.

he finally pulls back, his lips releasing you with a soft, wet POP! making you shudder at the loss of contact.

but baekhyun isn’t done yet.

in fact, he’s just getting started.

he glides down your body, his hands leaving a trail of warmth across your skin before settling between your legs. and with a swift motion, he’s ripping your underwear off, leaving you utterly breathless and completely vulnerable. you barely have a moment to catch up, still trembling from the orgasm he just gave you. before you can process what's happening, his mouth is on you, his tongue teasing your overly sensitive clit. a gasp escapes your lips as your hips instinctively buck up into his mouth, but he holds you steady, his grip firm on your thighs as he devours you.

“holyyyy fuck—baekhyun, p-please!” you whimper, but you’re not sure what you’re begging for anymore. his mouth is persistent, his tongue swirling and flicking in all the right places, sending shockwaves of pleasure all throughout your already overstimulated body.

he pulls back just enough to speak, his voice low and rough, “mm mm,” he shakes his head, moaning into you, “not stoppin’ ‘til ya understand how much i love this body.”

his words send a fresh wave of heat through you, and before you can respond, his mouth is on you again, sucking your clit into his mouth as his fingers return, thrusting deep inside you.

you’re spiraling again, the pleasure building impossibly higher, your mind, body, and soul completely at his mercy. it wasn’t long before he had you cumming again with his name on your lips, your body trembling as he pushes you over the edge once again.

when he finally pulls back, you’re left breathless, your body spent and trembling from the intensity of it all. “i love you,” he whispers, planting soft kisses up and down your thighs, “every part of you. don’t you ever doubt that.”

you nod, still breathless. “i love you. i believe you.”

but the tenderness of the moment vanishes as quick as it came. once you lock eyes, you notice that his are dark and filled with something raw, primal. his lips are wet from your orgasm, and the sight alone sends another surge of heat through your body. he presses one last kiss to your trembling thigh, his hands gripping you possessively as he pulls back slightly, his gaze never leaving yours.

"i've missed having ya like this," he rasps, his voice thick with desire. his fingers continue to ghost over your sensitive skin, sending shivers through you. you can feel him, hot and hard against your inner thigh, the fabric of his gray sweats doing little to hide his need. the dark spot of precum soaking through makes it all the more obvious. "i’ve been waiting to be inside you, ‘ma. been drivin’ me crazy thinkin’ about it."

your breath catches at his words. you’ve been so wrapped up in your insecurities and exhaustion that you hadn’t realized just how much he’d been holding back. the yearning in his voice is unmistakable, and it sends a thrill down your spine.

“oh? is that so?” you tease, your voice barely above a whisper, still coming down from the back to back orgasms he’s given you. you feel overwhelmed by how much he wants you, how much he’s been waiting for this moment, for you.

“it is so.” he presses his forehead against yours, breathing you in like he’s trying to ground himself, but the tension in his body is evident. “you have no idea how badly i need this,” he groans, his lips brushing against yours. “how bad i need you.”

his words give you goosebumps, the weight of his need making your body ache with anticipation. you can feel how hard he is, his dick pressing against you as he rolls his hips, the friction making you moan softly into his mouth.

“well, hurry up then,” you whimper, your impatient hands slipping down his toned chest, tugging at his waistband. he lets out a low chuckle, but there’s nothing playful in the way his eyes darken with pure, unfiltered hunger.

“you’re gonna be the death of me, i swear,” he says, pulling back just enough to slide out of his sweats, his cock springing free and brushing against your thigh. you gasp at the heat of him, the anticipation building with every second that passes.

his hand slips between your legs again, his fingers sliding through your wetness as he positions the pink tip of his aching dick at your entrance. he’s teasing you, slow and with purpose, as if savoring every second. he nudges his tip against you, and you gasp, already so sensitive from everything he’s done to you.

“i’ve thought about this every night,” baekhyun continues, his voice husky as his fingers dig into your hips. “about feeling you wrapped around me again. how perfect your pussy feels around me.” he slowly inches inside you, his length stretching you in a way that feels both familiar and completely new after so long.

you let out a shaky breath as he pushes in deeper, filling you completely. the sensation is overwhelming, his body pressed against yours, hot and solid, and for a moment, all the doubts and insecurities vanish under the sheer weight of his desire.

“oh—fffuuuck,” baekhyun groans, his voice low and strained as he stills inside you. his hands grip your hips tightly, as if he’s struggling to keep himself in check. he thinks if he starts moving he just might cum. and he can’t have that. not when tonight is all about you. “missed this so much. god, you’re so f-fuckin’ tight,” he groans, voice strained. “i’ve been hah—dying to be inside ya again, ‘ma.”

your hands slide up his arms, holding onto him as he slowly begins to move, each thrust deep and calculated, as if he’s savoring the feeling of being inside you again. his pace is unhurried, but there’s an intensity in the way he moves, a desperation that has been building for months.

“you’ve been drivin’ me crazy,” he murmurs against your neck, his breath hot against your taut skin. “every time i look at you, i just wanna nnghh—make you mine all over again.”

your nails dig into his back as he thrusts deeper, his hips pressing flush against yours. he’s slow, almost torturously so, drawing out every sensation until your entire body is trembling beneath him.

“hah—and ya wanna know what else i’ve been th-thinkin’ about?” he whispers, his lips brushing your ear. “i wanna put another baby inside you.”

the words send a shockwave through your body, your breath hitching at the intensity in his voice. his hips snap forward a little harder now, his movements more purposeful, more driven by the raw need to claim you in every way possible.

you gasp, heart pounding at his confession. you feel dizzy with desire, his words igniting something deep within you.

“i’ve thought about it s-so many times,” he whimpers, his voice rough with need. “about filling ya up, nngghh—watchin’ ya grow round with our baby again. hah—y’looked so fuckin’ beautiful carryin’ our child. goddamn.”

each thrust punctuates his words, and the idea of him wanting to put another baby inside you only fuels the fire burning between you. you can feel his need, his desperation, and it pushes you closer to the edge with every movement.

baekhyun leans down, pressing a kiss to your parted lips, his hand slipping between your bodies to rub gentle circles over your swollen clit. “i’m gonna make ya mine again,” he groans. “mmnnghh—’m gonna fill ya up, ‘ma. you’re mine—all mine. and every time you f-feel my cum dripping down your leg tomorrow hah—you’ll remember. just. how. much.”

the pressure builds rapidly, the combination of his praise and the way he’s holding you tightly as he’s rearranging your insides sends you spiraling. his thrusts quicken, and you can feel him losing control, the weight of his desire crashing down on both of you.

“oh, yes! f-fuck nnngghhh—baek!” you can’t even form the words, your body tightening around him as the pleasure builds higher and higher. his name falls from your lips again and again and again, your voice breathless as you grip his shoulders, your nails digging marks into his soft skin.

“’m so close,” baekhyun groans, his voice thick and rough as he pounds into you harder, his hips slamming into yours with a desperation that mirrors your own. “cum f’me, baby. i wanna hah—feel you.”

his words push you over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you with an intensity that leaves you breathless. your vision turns white, body clenching all around him, hips bucking up into his as he continues to relentlessly thrust into you, chasing his own release.

baekhyun’s movements grow erratic, his hips snapping into yours with increasing urgency until he finally stills, his body shuddering as he spills inside you, coating your walls in a pretty white shade. the heat of him filling you makes you shiver, as he groans your name, his grip on your hips tightening as he rides out his release.

baekhyun collapses against you, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath, his forehead pressed lovingly against yours. he’s still inside you, both of you completely wrapped up in each other, the weight of his body grounding you, making you feel safe, loved. for a moment, the only sound in the room is the ragged breathing of both of you, tangled together in the aftermath of your shared release.

“i love you,” he whispers breathlessly against your lips, his voice raw with emotion. “i love everything about you, mama. you’re everything i need.”

after the intensity of the moment eases, baekhyun lifts his head, planting a tender kiss on your forehead. you both wince as he pulls out, the overwhelming sensitivity leaving you breathless. he settles close beside you, propping himself up, his hands gently gliding over your sides. his fingers trace the delicate curve of your waist, drawing you closer to him. his gaze softens, filled with affection as he brushes a strand of hair away from your face. his fingers linger on your cheek, and you can feel the weight of his thoughts, the unspoken emotions swirling in his eyes.

“y’know,” he begins, his voice low, still catching his breath. but there’s a depth to it that makes your heart skip a beat. “i didn’t think it was possible to love you more than i already did.” his thumb gently strokes your cheek, and he gazes at you with a mix of awe and appreciation. “but seeing you pregnant with our baby, watching you go through everything you did—physically and mentally—it just... changed everything for me.”

you feel a lump form in your throat as his words sink in, the sincerity and raw emotion in his voice making your chest tighten with warmth.

“i don’t think you truly understand how incredible you are,” baekhyun says, his brown eyes locked onto yours with unwavering intensity. “you endured so much to bring our baby into the world. i saw every moment—the pain, the struggle—but you were so strong. you did it all so well, and i’ll forever be indebted to you for that.

he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, but it’s more than just a kiss—it’s full of gratitude, admiration, and love.

“and now… seeing you like this,” he murmurs, his hand sliding down to rest on your waist, tracing the beautiful curves of your post-pregnancy body, “you’re even more beautiful to me. so much more. every part of you.” his eyes roam your figure, and there’s nothing but love and desire in his gaze.

baekhyun’s acknowledgment of your strength, of everything you endured, fills you with a deep sense of gratitude and relief. his touch, gentle and meek, tracing the parts of you that you’ve been insecure about, feels like a silent reassurance that you are enough—more than enough. his love feels like a weight lifting off your shoulders, and you couldn’t be more at ease

your heart swells with emotion, and his kiss, filled with gratitude and love. his confession was the tipping point, breaking down the walls you had built around your insecurities.

“thank you for loving me the way you do, baek,” you whisper, cupping his face as your noses brush together, savoring the warmth of each other’s presence and inhaling the scent that feels like home. “how did i get so lucky?”

“i could say the same about you, my love,” he murmurs between gentle kisses that he scatters across your cheeks and forehead, each one a soft reminder of his unwavering devotion.

he holds you gently yet firmly against his chest, your heart racing with excitement, filled with butterflies. each flutter reminds you of the deep love that grows stronger between you both.

“oh, and i meant every word i said earlier, by the way,” baekhyun’s voice breaks the comfortable silence, soft yet serious. “every word. i want more of this with you—more of us. i can picture it: a whole litter of mini versions of us running around.”

a smile tugs at your lips, your heart swelling at the thought of a future filled with love and chaos. “yeah, yeah. we’ll see,” you tease, fingers threading through his soft, dark hair, enjoying the way it curls around your hand.

“awww, come on, wouldn’t it be great?” he continues, eyes sparkling with mischief. “there’d never be a dull moment! and i want them all close in age," he adds, his excitement bubbling over without pause—like he’s the one who’s going to be pushing out watermelon-sized humans. "they’ll be running around, constantly yelling, ‘mommy, mommy, mommy!’ nonstop. 24/7, 365 days a year. sounds fun, right?"

you snort, rolling your eyes. “the only thing that makes me want to do is call up my obgyn and schedule a total hysterectomy, baekhyun.” his laughter is contagious, and you can’t help but grin. “i can already feel my hair graying just thinking about it.”

“fine,” he sighs dramatically, feigning defeat. “just four more, then.”

“FOUR?!” you exclaim, eyes wide, utterly incredulous.

he looks at you like a child trying to convince his parents to buy him a toy, except instead of a video game, it’s a whole team of children. “well, with the one we already have, we’d just need four more to form our very own basketball team.”

“byun baekhyun, do you even hear yourself right now?”

he presses his lips together, mock seriousness creasing his brow as if in deep contemplation. “...three?”

“what the hell? no, baekhyun,” you deadpan.

he chuckles, his toned arms wrapping around you, feeling like home as he leans in to press a gentle kiss against your lips. "oh, you won’t be able to resist me," he murmurs against your mouth, playful yet intense. the twinkle in his eyes makes it clear that he’s already decided, and deep down, you know he’s not letting go of this dream anytime soon—if ever.

and as he holds you close, still connected, you know that no matter what the future holds, he’ll always love you exactly as you are—beautiful, strong, and undeniably his.

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 a/n: as a leading member of the milfy trophy wife™ committee, i felt this request in my soul. this one really hit home for me, nonnie!!!!! :') i hope i did it justice for you <3 also, i think i’ll turn this into a series—little drabbles and such with dilf!baekhyun/husband!baekhyun hehe 🙂‍↕️ oh, and p.s., i’ll be updating the layout for all my fics to match this one! :") i just think it’ll be so pretty to have everything match hehe. anyway, i hope you enjoyed this one! <3

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* masterlist ° ᡣ𐭩 .

#the pics i chose for this fic is what i imagined he'd look like in the final scene :')#naur but baekhyun would really be the best husband + dad :(#i know this bc it’s me im his wife n mother of his children #and im actually pregnant rn and we just found out we're having octuplets so everyone pls send us ur congratulations!!!! thx<3 #and ur all invited to the baby shower <3 <3 <3 #lisawrites #baekhyun #baekhyun smut #baekhyun one shot #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun fic #exo smut #exo one shot #exo fic #exo x reader #married!au #new parents!au

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