#he's an old man don't hold it against him

[joemama-2]

velvet lies

pairing: gojo x fem reader synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. wc: 8.2k tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, (mentions of) cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama, miscommunication, blackmail, unhealthy coping mechanisms , depression, manipulation series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter

“You look so handsome like this…” a sultry chuckle is followed by a warm kiss to the lips. The man with a receding hairline laughs in a slimy way, welcoming the woman into his lap. Arms settled around her midsection, indulging in her lips. 

The moment is quickly shut down when an intruding voice cuts in. “Haruka! Some guy is waiting for you at the door.”

With a huff, she pulls back. Lip curled up into a scowl, turning her head over her shoulder to face the man at the top of the stairs. “Tell ‘em I’m busy, damn it!” She snarls out. 

The man sighs and rubs his bald head. “I already did. He said he wants to speak to you, now hurry up here.”

When the door slams shut, she turns back to her customer. “I’ll be back.” She smiles and kisses his wrinkly cheek before getting up and off his lap. She fixes her clothing, a simple tank top and shorts. Looking at the small mirror, she frowns and straightens down her hair. She’s reminded to dye her hair black again to cover up the incoming gray hairs that always greet her nowadays. She applies her usual red lick back to her skin, perking them up with a small pop noise. Her eyes, beady and dark, fixate back up at the door while her feet drag her. 

Once she’s up in the main portion of the building, she rounds a corner and sees a neatly suited man standing at the front desk. The man who called her attention before gives her a certain look before walking off and letting her deal with it. She smiles, leaning against the hardwood. “Why, hello there, handsome. How may I help you today?”

The man, undeterred and stoic, regards her with barely any emotion. The dark sunglasses on his face obscuring his eyes and Haruka’s brow twitches for a moment in annoyance. She still keeps up her game, however. Resting her cheek against her palm. “Well? How can I—”

“Ms. Haruka, right?” 

The stranger’s voice is deep and defined, causing Haruka’s eyebrows to raise in interest. Her smile widens and she hums playfully. “Ah, well depends on who’s asking. If it’s you, then you can call me Candy.” She whispers the last part, leaning in like she told him a big secret; giggling to herself. 

The man spares a brief glance down at his wristwatch. Haruka notices its pristine gold, oh how valuable. An idea is already forming in her head when she looks back at the man’s black, circular shades. But what he says next causes her body to go into a temporary state of comatose. 

“Are you the mother of Y/N L/N? If so, please come with me. There are some things my bosses would like to discuss with you.”

It’s the day after Christmas. You luckily got the day off and you’ve just been lounging around your place with Koji. Eating some leftovers and cleaning up a bit, watching him rave about the new toys he got; it’s a pleasant sight. Satoru hasn’t texted you anything today, and while you’re not holding him to that expectation, there’s a part of you that worries he’s still angry. Or maybe even upset at the gift you got him. It probably brought up negative emotions for him. But it was a last minute thing and you assumed he would greatly appreciate it. 

Maybe your assumption was wrong. 

You shake off the thought, refusing to dwell on it. Satoru has always been hard to read, and overanalyzing his silence won’t do you any good. Instead, you focus on Koji, who’s currently making his action figures reenact some elaborate battle scene on the coffee table. His laughter echoes through the room, bright and infectious, pulling a small smile from you.

“Koji, don’t forget to put the smaller pieces back in the box when you’re done,” you remind him gently.

“Okay, Mama!” he chirps, not looking up from his imaginary world.

You take another bite of your leftovers, savoring the quiet domesticity of the moment. It’s not often you get a day to just relax like this. Still, that nagging thought about Satoru lingers in the back of your mind, no matter how much you try to ignore it. Your fingers reach up, feeling for the star pendant Suguru got you. Smiling to yourself as your fingertips graze over the metal. You’re suddenly reminded of the fact that you haven’t thanked him. 

You grab your phone, thumb hovering over his contact. It’s a small debate to call or text him, unsure of which is more…appropriate. Maybe he’s busy or maybe he wouldn’t mind a phone call at this time. You bite your lip, inhaling deeply then letting it go, deciding that your gratitude would feel more authentic if he actually heard you say it. 

You click the call button and within the second ring, his voice lightens up the other end. “Hello?”

You clear your throat before speaking. “Hey, Suguru,” you say softly, twirling the pendant between your fingers. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“Not at all,” he replies warmly, a hint of curiosity in his tone. “What’s up?”

As you pause for a moment, your thoughts are being gathered. “I just wanted to thank you… for the gift. The pendant, it’s beautiful.” Your voice dips slightly, the sincerity in your words undeniable. “You didn’t have to, but… it means a lot to me.”

There’s a brief silence on his end before he chuckles softly. “I’m glad you like it. I figured it’d suit you.”

You can’t help but smile, your fingers still tracing the small, intricate patterns on the pendant. “It does. Koji said it makes me look pretty.”

Suguru laughs at that, the sound soft and familiar. “He’s not wrong. The kid’s got good taste.”

A small heat pools in your stomach, cheeks blushing a bit. When you glance over at Koji, you notice just how engrossed he still is in his action figures. “He’s been talking about that Spider-Man you got him nonstop. He even took it to bed with him last night.”

“Really? That’s adorable,” Suguru comments, his tone light but carrying an underlying fondness. “I’m glad he liked it. He’s a great kid.”

“He is,” you agree, your voice softening. “I’m lucky to have him.”

There’s a pause, the silence between you both comfortable yet loaded with things left unsaid. Finally, Suguru breaks it. “How are you doing? After last night, I mean. Satoru told me he was going over.”

The question catches you off guard, and for a moment, you’re unsure how to answer. “I’m… okay,” you eventually get out, though it feels like a half-truth. “It was just… a lot. But we did it. For Koji.” 

He hums from the other side. “Yeah, that’s good. I figured.” A moment of pause before he continues. “Satoru can be… intense, especially when it comes to you and Koji.”

You let out a small, humorless laugh. “That’s one way to put it.”

“But other than that, it was good?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

He smiles. “I’m glad, you two deserve a good Christmas.”

With one hand, you bring your dirty dishes to the sink, the other keeping your phone to your ear. “What about you? Was yours good too?”

Suguru’s voice sighs wistfully. “It was, yeah. My team and I spent it handing out some gifts and hot chocolate to the kids. Seeing their faces light up with joy like that, it makes you feel really good, you know?”

Your heart warms at his words, picturing Suguru in his element—kind, compassionate, always thinking of others. You’re reminded back to the time you saw him that day with Koji. “That sounds wonderful,” you speak softly, leaning against the counter. “You’re really amazing for doing that, Suguru. Those kids are lucky to have someone like you.”

He chuckles modestly, the sound low and comforting. “I don’t know about amazing, but thanks. It’s just something small I can do. Makes the holidays feel more meaningful.”

You smile, twirling the pendant again as you consider his words. “It’s more than small. It’s thoughtful. It’s... you.” The words slip out before you can stop them, and you feel your cheeks flush immediately. Embarrassment floods your insides. 

There’s a brief silence on his end, followed by a soft laugh. “You’re too kind. But coming from you, I’ll take it as a high compliment.”

You shake your head, grinning despite yourself. “It’s not kindness. It’s the truth.”  

Koji’s excited shout from the living room snaps you back to the moment. He’s discovered a new pose for his Spider-Man, proudly showing it off as he runs over. “Mama, look!”  

Suguru must hear the commotion, his tone lightening further. “Sounds like someone’s having a good time.”  

“He is,” you say, watching Koji’s eyes sparkle with joy. You nod in astonishment. When your son is satisfied with your praise, he rushes back to the coffee table. “He’s been nonstop since yesterday. I think this Spider-Man might be his new best friend.”  

“Then my mission was a success,” Suguru replies with a chuckle. “I’ll have to find something to top it next year.”  

You bite the inside of your cheek while his words bring a pang of guilt. It’s strange; how easy it is to talk to Suguru, how natural it feels to share these moments. And yet, there’s a part of you that wonders if you’re leaning on him too much, especially with everything unresolved with Satoru. You wonder if what you’re doing is wrong, and considering Satoru’s reaction to his friend’s gift to you, you feel like you’re almost…betraying Satoru. 

“Thank you again, Suguru,” you repeat, your voice calmer now. “For everything. You didn’t have to go out of your way for us, but you did, and it means a lot.”  

“You don’t have to thank me,” he says gently. “You and Koji... you guys are important to me too, you know?”  

The weight of his words settles over you, warm and steady. “That means a lot to me too.”  

There’s another comfortable pause before Suguru clears his throat. “Well, I should let you get back to your day. I’m glad you called, though. Don’t be a stranger, okay?”  

“Okay,” you promise, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Take care, Suguru.”  

“You too,” he says, his voice lingering for a moment before the call ends.  

As you set your phone down, you glance at Koji, who’s now back to his world of action figures. You can’t help but feel grateful for the people in your life now who care so deeply about you and your son.  

But even with that gratitude, your thoughts drift back to Satoru, the press, his parents. And you ponder over the idea of what he’s doing right now, whether he’s holding onto the photograph, if he set it up somewhere; and what it might mean for the three of you moving forward.

There’s no time to start drowning in your thoughts any longer. You’ve already done that yesterday and practically every other day before that. A bigger question has been gnawing at you, and now that you have some free time, you figure you should look into it now. Grabbing your laptop, turning it on and clicking on Google once the screen awakens. The small business card is placed to your right as you type away the company name in the search bar. 

You click on the first link. 

It takes you to an entire directory of the services of Carlisle & Harlow. 

The website loads quickly, its sleek design showcasing high-end properties and exclusive services. The polished images of luxurious estates, private jets, and lavish vacation homes scroll past as you navigate through the various tabs. The site is clearly designed to appeal to an elite audience—every detail is immaculate. You skim through the different services offered, including property management, concierge arrangements, personal assistants, and lifestyle coaching. It all feels a bit too polished, almost like an invitation into a world you’ve only ever seen from the outside.

You feel a slight unease in your stomach. Your mind races back to the business card Evelyn gave you—one that seemed so out of place given everything else you’ve seen in your life. You click through to the “About Us” section, hoping to find more answers about what the company actually does or who else is behind it. 

The page provides a brief history, detailing the company’s founding by the woman, Evelyn Carlisle and her now deceased husband, Noah Harlow—both of whom have since made a name for themselves in the luxury service industry. 

You click on the “Our Team” link. Several executives are listed, each with brief bios that read like glowing resumes. Next, you click on the “Contact Us” tab, staring at the address listed—an upscale location in the city’s financial district. It’s the kind of place where secrets are hidden behind high walls and the name on the door probably has a lot of power behind it.

Taking a deep breath, you mull over this instance. Maybe it’s time to investigate further, but you’re not sure how much deeper you want to dig—especially not without some sort of plan. But that Evelyn woman seemed a little strange to you. It’s just the fact that everything felt quite planned out to you, like someone told her to come to your workplace and offer a job interview. Your intuition has always been right and ever since you became a mother, that increased tenfold. But, this seems like it might have more of a good outcome than a bad one. 

You wouldn’t have to maintain the hard balance of working two jobs and a child. As you continue scrolling and clicking on multiple tabs within the website, one catches your interest. 

‘About Our Founders’

You’re met with pictures of Evelyn and her husband, posing with what you can only assume are other businesspeople, with paragraphs of their background to go along with it. Nothing looks out of the ordinary so far, until a particular picture. 

It’s Evelyn and her husband. Posing with Satoru and his father. 

Your heart stops for a moment, your breath catching in your throat as you stare at the screen. The four of them are dressed impeccably, their expressions polished with smiles that feel carefully rehearsed. The caption beneath the photo reads:  

“Celebrating five years of partnership between Carlisle & Harlow and the Gojo Group, fostering innovation and excellence in high-end luxury services.”

Your stomach churns. The idea of Satoru or his family being involved in this job offer. And it almost makes sense now—Evelyn showing up at your workplace, the too-perfect job offer, the strange sense of everything being orchestrated. It wasn’t a coincidence. It couldn’t be. Unless it is?

Your fingers hover over the trackpad, trembling slightly as you click on the bio beneath Evelyn’s photo. Her background is as pristine as expected: Ivy League education, years of experience in luxury branding, and a reputation for impeccable taste. But it’s the section about her connections that catches your eye:  

"Evelyn Carlisle maintains close ties with prominent families, including the Gojo family, and has been instrumental in crafting tailored solutions for their elite clientele."

Your head spins. This isn’t just a job opportunity—it’s a calculated move. But why? Why now? And why through Evelyn instead of directly from Satoru or his family? You glance back at the business card on your table, its gold lettering gleaming in the soft light. It feels heavier now, like it’s carrying the weight of unseen motives.  

Koji’s laughter breaks through your swirling thoughts, grounding you momentarily. You look over at him, playing so innocently, so unaware of the tangled web you’re beginning to unravel. Taking a deep breath, you close the laptop and sit back. Whatever this is, it’s not just about you anymore. If Evelyn’s offer is part of some larger scheme, you’ll need to figure out the truth before you make any decisions.  

Maybe you’re overthinking this. The Gojo Group is huge and very obviously powerful, of course, they would have ties with Carlisle & Harlow. It’s not that far-fetched, right? It’s just a job opportunity, don’t think too much into it. 

It’s around the next day at work now. Walking to the café, phone in hand. Rereading Satoru’s first text to you since you last saw him, it’s not entirely underwhelming, you just hoped that he would have expressed his gratitude for your gift. 

Satoru:

Koji left his jacket here from last time, I’ll bring it over today

Your lips purse, thumbs going haywire over the bright screen. Should you ask if he enjoyed the gift? If he even opened it in the first place? Or maybe you’re dragging this out far too much. With a deep breath, entering the cafe, you type back:

You:

I thought you had work today 

Satoru’s response comes almost immediately, as if he was waiting for you to text back.

Satoru:

I do, but I can swing by during lunch. The place is a little far from me, can I come to your job and drop it off?

You hesitate, wanting to type back a ‘no’ as soon as he asked. It would feel a little weird if he came. Satoru and your workplace just don’t seem to mix—and you don’t want them to. If he came, it would only further solidify the fact that he’s integrating himself into your life. Again, you’re probably overthinking things, he’s just dropping off your son’s jacket. But the thought of seeing him right now feels oddly nerve-inducing. 

You:

Sure, I’m on lunch at 12

When you drop the pin of the café’s address, you pocket your phone and set your stuff down, tying the apron around your waist. Hana, on her phone texting, barely looks up when you enter. It’s becoming a bit more repetitive nowadays. Patting down the apron, you speak up. “Still talking to that Naoya guy?”

She hums and nods, giggling at something that was messaged before swiftly typing back a response. Your lips purse, brows knitting at her lack of acknowledgment for you. This guy must really be entrancing her. “He said he was coming today.”

“Oh, really?” You ask, offering a small smile. “I’ll finally meet the lucky guy.”

Hana’s eyes flick up at you briefly before returning to her phone, her cheeks slightly flushed. “Hm? Oh, yeah. but don’t embarrass me, okay?”  

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head as you grab a few boxes to refill the supplies up front behind the counter, cutting them open. “I’ll try not to. Just don’t expect me to be on my best behavior if he’s rude.”  

She scoffs, though her grin betrays her amusement. “He’s not rude. You’ll like him, I think. He’s… different.”  

You arch a brow, intrigued by her tone. “Different, huh? Guess we’ll see.”  

Hana waves you off, clearly too engrossed in her conversation to elaborate further.  

And so, the morning drags on, and you can’t help but notice Hana glancing at the door every few minutes, a mix of anticipation and nerves written all over her face. Meanwhile, you busy yourself with the usual flow of customers, though your own nerves begin to creep in as the clock inches closer to noon.  

When the bell above the café door finally chimes, you glance up instinctively. A tall man with sharp features and an air of confidence steps in, scanning the room briefly before his gaze lands on Hana. His hair is slicked back neatly, and he’s dressed in a tailored coat that screams wealth and status. The tips of his hair dipped black, his eyes are so cat-like that it almost freaks you out at first.  

Hana’s face lights up as she quickly puts the cleaning supplies that were in her hands down and waves him over. “Naoya!”  

He strides over, a smirk tugging at his lips as he leans in to greet her with a kiss on the cheek. “Hana,” he says smoothly, his voice low and self-assured. 

Your eyebrows raise at the blatant show of affection in front of not just you—but the rest of the customers. It’s slightly unlike Hana because you remember her telling you how much she despised PDA. Maybe Naoya is making her come out of her shell. That’s good, right? You watch the interaction from behind the counter, your initial impression of him forming almost immediately. There’s something about his demeanor—charming, yes, but also a little too smug for your liking. Your senses are telling you to be subtly on guard around this man. 

Hana glances over at you, her smile widening. “Naoya, this is my coworker—”  

“Friend,” you correct with a playful smile, giving her a tiny look. It’s strange how she was just going to introduce you as a coworker when she always calls you her friend. Not thinking too much of it, you step out from behind the counter to extend a hand. “Nice to meet you, Naoya. I’m Y/N.”

He takes your hand, his grip firm but calculated. His eyes flicker over you briefly, as if sizing you up. If possible, his grin widens, eyes growing more crescent-like. “Pleasure’s mine,” he says, though the smirk on his face doesn’t quite reach his eyes.  

“So, you’re the one who’s been keeping Hana so distracted lately,” you remark lightly, folding your arms.  

Naoya chuckles, his gaze shifting back to Hana. “She’s easy to talk to. Hard not to get distracted by her.”  

Hana blushes, clearly pleased by the compliment, but you can’t shake the nagging feeling that there’s something a little… off about him.  “Well,” you say, forcing a polite smile, “welcome to our humble abode. Let me know if you need anything.”  

Naoya nods, his smirk unwavering. “Will do.”  

As you step back behind the counter, you catch Hana giving you a warning glance, silently begging you not to say anything more. You just shrug, grabbing the rag Hana previously discarded to wipe down the counter, though you can’t help but keep an ear on their conversation. They convert over to a booth in the corner, seemingly for some privacy. 

Something about Naoya sets your instincts on edge. Maybe it’s the way he carries himself, or the way his smile feels more like a performance than genuine warmth. He’s reminding you of Satoru, just more insidious. It’s probably a little rude of you to have such a critical judgment of the man who’s making your friend swoon, but isn’t that what friends, do? Making sure the men or women that come into their lives are worthy of it? Whatever it is, you make a mental note to keep an eye on him—if only for Hana’s sake.  

You stop eavesdropping. Hana’s a grown woman, if anything, she knows what’s more right for her than you do. Besides, you’re one of the only ones working right now, so it’s better to focus on delivering customer service than ensuring the man in the corner (who has been keenly drifting his eyes towards your figure) is good enough for Hana. Hana, oblivious to your discomfort, continues chatting with Naoya, her smile wide as she laughs at something he says. Her back is turned to you, and all you can do is concentrate on the rising sense of unease in your gut. It’s the way Naoya’s posture remains open and confident, but there’s a hardness behind his eyes that doesn’t sit right with you. He seems like someone who expects to get what he wants, and the thought of him using his charm to manipulate Hana makes you clench your fists beneath the counter. You’re just trying to understand the strange energy he brings into the environment. Maybe it’s your overactive imagination, but you still can’t shake the perception that there’s more to this man than Hana is seeing.

As you refocus on your tasks, you can physically feel the weight of Naoya’s gaze lingering on you. It’s subtle, but unsettling—like he’s paying more attention to you than he is Hana. You shake it off, putting your mind into the register as a customer walks up to place an order. However, the uneasy feeling stays with you. You move through the motions of your shift. Every time you briefly glance over to the booth, his gaze is drawn to you. Not in the way you’d expect a person to look at someone they’ve just met, but with something more calculating. It’s almost as if he’s analyzing you, but why?

You don’t even know how long it has been, at least 15 orders later, when the two walk back up to the front. Hana grabs your attention. “Y/N, Naoya brought up a really good idea. His friend owns that new bar I was telling you about a few weeks ago! Do you want to go out tomorrow after your other job?”

You glance up, a bit surprised by the invitation. It’s not like you haven’t been out with Hana before, but something about tonight feels odd. Maybe it’s Naoya’s presence, or maybe it’s the weird sense of being observed earlier. Still, it’s a chance to unwind, and Hana seems genuinely excited.

You give a soft smile, though it feels a little strained. “I don’t know, Hana. I’ve got a lot on my plate. Plus, I’m not sure about the bar idea... not really in the mood for crowds.”

Her eyes widen, and she steps closer, lowering her voice. “Come on, you deserve a break. You’ve been working so hard lately. It’ll be fun, I promise.”

You meet her eyes, trying to gauge her sincerity. She’s always been good at getting you to loosen up when you're feeling overwhelmed. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to go for just a little while, but you still have reservations about Naoya. “Alright, I’ll think about it. I’ll see if I can get out earlier,” you say, trying to keep your tone light. “But no promises.”

Hana’s face lights up. “Yay! I knew you’d come around.” She looks over her shoulder at Naoya, who’s standing a few feet away, reading the two of you with an unreadable expression. 

You suddenly feel like this moment might be the start of something unpredictable. As much as you want to just go with the flow for Hana, a part of you ponders if there’s more to Naoya’s invitation than just a night out. But, for now, you push the thought aside.

“Well, you don’t want to miss out,” Naoya speaks up, chuckling to himself. “Just try. It’s called No Man’s Land. I’ll be there around 10:30 tomorrow night, hopefully I'll see you both there.”

You nod slowly, still hesitant about the whole thing. Something about the way Naoya phrased it—so casual, so sure of himself—rubs you the wrong way. There’s an underlying expectation in his words like he’s already decided that you’ll both show up. You’re not sure if it’s just his personality or something more, but the thought of him controlling the situation leaves you with a strange feeling. Hana, though, looks delighted. “It’ll be so much fun, Y/N. Just relax. A drink or two won’t hurt.” She flashes you a grin before turning back to Naoya, all smiles as she talks about what they’ll do at the bar.

You’re like an outsider, watching as Hana becomes more entangled in Naoya’s charm. You wonder if she sees it too—the little things about him that don’t add up. The way he already seems like the type of man to be just one step ahead with a plan. But she’s excited, so you don’t want to rain on her parade. Besides, you can always back out later if it doesn’t feel right.

Luckily, she sees him out right after. 

And unluckily, you’re waiting outside on your break for Satoru sooner rather than later. 

You glance at your phone once more, watching the minutes tick by. Your break feels longer than it should, and the anticipation of seeing Satoru again only adds to the anxiety that’s been building ever since your last interaction. You tell yourself it’s just a quick exchange—Koji’s jacket, nothing more. But every moment feels charged as if something is on the verge of shifting.

The cool air outside offers a bit of relief, though the tension in your chest doesn’t quite let up. You stand near the corner of the café, eyes scanning the street for any sign of him. The sound of footsteps approaches, and you turn, only to find Satoru strolling toward you with his usual carefree aura.

“Hey,” he greets, his tone light, but there’s something different about the way his eyes stay on you—something that feels almost too familiar. He holds out the jacket. “Koji’s jacket. Didn’t want to leave him without it.”

You take the jacket from him, the weight of it making you more aware of the subtle intimacy of the moment. “Thanks,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “I appreciate it.”

He doesn’t say anything immediately, just watches you for a beat too long. You shift on your feet, suddenly feeling acutely aware of the silence hanging between you.

“Is that all?” you ask, hoping the question doesn’t come off too abrupt.

Satoru tilts his head as if considering something. “What do you mean?”

God, you hate it when he plays stupid like this. It forces you to be outright with what you want to say. Standing up straighter, chin tilting high. “I mean…like—well I guess what I’m trying to say is that…did you open…the gift I gave you?”

Satoru’s gaze shifts slightly, his usual simmering confidence faltering just enough to make you second-guess yourself. He pauses like he’s weighing your question more carefully than he typically would. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve overstepped—if you’ve asked something too personal or too vulnerable. The silence stretches between you like a taut wire.

“Your gift?” he finally says, the corner of his mouth lifting just a bit. He sounds almost amused, but there’s a hint of something else in his voice, something you can’t quite pin down.

You feel a wave of heat rise in your cheeks, but you stand your ground. “Yeah. The one I gave you on Christmas.” The words feel clumsy as they leave your mouth, but you can’t take them back now.

Satoru’s expression shifts, the air tensing slightly. “I did,” he says simply, as though it’s nothing. “It was… nice.”

You want to push him further, to demand more of a response, but something about the way he says it makes you hesitate. Is that all? You want to ask again. Was it just “nice”? That’s all? After everything—the thought you put into the gift, the small but meaningful gesture—you wonder if maybe it didn’t even register with him the way it did with you. Maybe you were right, he didn’t even open it and is now coming up with a bullshit response because you put him on blast. 

But you don’t want to push too hard. You already feel like you’re treading on delicate ground. So you force yourself to smile, even though it feels a little stiff. “Well, I’m glad you liked it,” you reply, not entirely sure if you believe your own words.

There’s another beat of silence, and then Satoru shifts his weight slightly, signalling that he’s about to leave. “I should get going. Got some things to take care of,” he says, but he doesn’t immediately turn away.

Instead, his eyes flicker down to your hands, where you’re still holding Koji’s jacket. “Take care of yourself,” he adds, his tone softening just a bit.

You nod, trying to hide the strange pang in your chest. “You too,” you reply, though your voice is quieter now.

His lips thin into an awkward smile. It’s one you give a stranger or someone you barely know—but that’s how things feel between you now, isn’t it? It’s really not worth dwelling over the tiny things that further more prove the horrid line of connection between you two. But for some reason, it still hurts and picks at your heart. 

That moment is quickly splashed away when a familiar—but teeth-gritting voice squeals from behind Satoru. Your grip tightens on Koji’s jacket. Satoru’s shoulders tense up. 

“Satoru! Why’d you leave me in that boutique? It took forever to find you!”

She appears next to Satoru, her presence immediate and unmistakable. Her eyes flicker between you and Satoru with a mix of scrutiny and something else that you can’t quite place. She’s dressed in something designer, as usual, with that polished, effortless look that screams of wealth and status. Her gaze lingers on you for a moment longer than necessary, a quiet challenge in her eyes.

You feel a knot twist in your stomach, an all-too-familiar sense of discomfort settling into your chest. Satoru’s gaze meets yours for just a moment before he shifts his attention to Himari. “Sorry, didn’t mean to leave you hanging,” he says, his tone light but lacking its usual warmth.

Himari, not seeming to notice or care about the tension in the air, flashes you a tight-lipped smile that screams fake. “Oh, well look who it is. The leech.”

“Himari.” Satoru gruffs under his breath, giving his girlfriend a dirty side-eye. 

“What? One minute we're spending the day together and the next you’re here with…her.”

Your jaw clenches, noticing the tug Satoru gives the other woman to the back of her dress, lowly whispering something into her ear. But her facial expression doesn’t deter, and neither does her snaky persona. 

“I thought you had work.” You utter, eyes flickering back to Satoru. 

His brows tighten, huffing out an exasperated breath. Before he can respond, she does it for him. “If you consider being by my side and treating all my needs work, then yeah, he is working.” She giggles at her own joke, making a show of turning his head towards her and plopping a kiss on his pink lips. It lasts only a few seconds before he pulls away. 

But even those few seconds feel like a lifetime.

You feel the bite of Himari’s words, even if they’re clearly meant to dig into you. The word “leech” still stings, even though you know it’s not intended for anything other than a cruel jab. Satoru’s response, or lack thereof, makes the situation all the more uncomfortable. His eyes flick to you for a brief second before turning back to Himari, his expression more quiet and guarded

 One question sounds throughout your brain. Why are you even with her?

You stand there, the tension heavy in the air between the three of you, white-knuckling onto Koji’s jacket, as if it could anchor you through this awkward, uncomfortable moment. Himari’s gaze holds yours for a moment longer like she’s trying to read you, trying to see if you'll react. You want to say something, anything, but you can feel the weight of the situation hanging on your tongue, making it hard to even speak.

Satoru looks between the two of you, his jaw tightening slightly. "Let's go," he mutters, more to Himari than to you, though you can tell he’s trying to smooth things over. Himari, however, isn’t having it. She steps forward, a small smirk on her face as she eyes you again. 

“So,” she starts, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “you two still playing catch-up or is it ‘out of sight, out of mind’ now?” 

Her clipped tone is pointed, deliberately meant to prod, and the weight of them sinks in—her intent clear. Satoru doesn’t reply, simply glancing at you with a silent apology in his eyes—if you can even call it that. You want to scoff at his lousiness. It’s clear she’s trying to assert her dominance in the situation, but you’re not sure whether it’s her trying to put you in your place or if it’s something else entirely.

You force a tight smile, the words you're looking for escaping you. “No need to worry,” you manage to say, the words barely leaving your lips as you turn to look at Satoru one last time. “I’m sure you both have things to do. I’ll get back to work.”

Satoru doesn’t protest, and Himari just gives you another dismissive glance. "Whatever," she mutters under her breath, but you catch the taunt in her voice. She might be playing it off, but you sense otherwise. 

As they walk away, the weight of the encounter lingers in the air around you. You stand frozen for a moment, the jacket still in your hands, and then—almost instinctively—you turn on your heel and head back inside the café. Your heart still pounds in your chest, the sting of Himari’s words lingering long after they’ve both left.

You don’t even know what hurts more—the fact that Satoru’s dismissive attitude didn’t change, Himari’s words somehow managed to rattle you more than you care to admit, or the fact that he barely…stood up for you. It is selfish to at least hold him to a certain degree—a degree where he has the decency to protect you from the cruel shit his now girlfriend so nonchalantly delivers towards you? Maybe how he acted during that first unexpected encounter was all for show.

And of course, the pain in your chest feels more like a slow burn now, another brutal—unwanted reminder that things between you and Satoru, whatever they were…are long gone.

An Izakaya of this caliber is something Haruka would have only dreamed of sitting in. Warm lighting is stationed above them, inside their own private room while she drinks away and away—solely because the people before her are buying. There are dishes of food scattered around, some picked from and others haven’t been touched yet. “You know, I really appreciate you spoiling me for the past two days, it’s nicer than any man has ever treated me.” 

She laughs to herself, casually leaning back on her palms, holding her pitcher of beer back up to her lips and sipping like a madman. Emi and Kenji Nakamura regard the woman with equally disgusted faces. Beside them is their personal lawyer. 

“So,” Haruka starts, burping and leaning forward once more. “What’s this all about my precious daughter, huh?” Her lip quirks up in a sneer at the reminder of the child she had and practically threw to the wolves. “Is she acting up again? She’s always been a little troublemaker.”

“I’m sure you’ve seen the articles, yes?” Kenji’s firm voice replies. “Involving your daughter, Satoru Gojo, and their son.”

She chokes on her spit. “What?! Son?! No, I haven’t seen anything! I’m a free spirit and I don’t believe in social media, it’s the devil’s play!”

The couple show no further emotion to her outburst. 

Haruka’s face contorts with an expression of disbelief as she wipes her mouth hastily with the back of her hand, trying to regain some composure. The news about Satoru Gojo and her daughter having a child seems to rattle her more than anything else. She leans back again, almost toppling over from the force of her sudden shift in posture, eyes wild. “I—what do you mean, son?” Her voice cracks, and she shoots a glance at Emi and Kenji, her eyes narrowing. “Are you telling me that boy… and my daughter? They have a child?!”

Kenji’s lips curl into a slight frown, his eyes cold. “Yes, it seems your daughter has kept things a secret for years. The media and everyone else have only just found out.”

Haruka’s eyes flash with something venomous, but she quickly masks it with a laugh, the sound forced and hollow. “Ah, what a little dirty sneak. And, please. You know I’m not interested in all that family nonsense. And that son? How could they even think of bringing a kid into their… situation?” Her head shakes as she scoffs at the thought of you bearing a child of your own. And especially with…him. 

“You may not understand now,” Kenji mutters darkly, before leaning in slightly. “But I think it’s time you start paying attention. Because this situation concerns you more than you realize.”

Haruka’s face twitches, the words hitting her harder than she wants to admit. The weight of the sudden revelation was heavy. She glances down at her beer, swirling it absentmindedly, her mind clearly racing with thoughts she doesn’t want to process. “You’re telling me my daughter has a son with him?” she scoffs, shaking her head. “That’s rich. Really rich.” Her tone is bitter, but the realization of the reality around her seems to slowly sink in, and she takes another long sip from her pitcher to steady herself. “She’s such a goddamn fool, I almost feel bad for her. I provided a lot for her, you know? Then she threw it all away.”

Kenji and Emi watch on in disinterest. The lawyer beside them brings out a formal sheet of paper. “We’d like to offer you a deal, Ms. L/N,” Kenji states. 

Haruka looks back up, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Haruka’s eyes narrow, expression shifting from one of indifference to one of calculated curiosity. She shifts in place, wiping her mouth once more with the back of her palm. “A deal? What kind of deal?” she asks, her voice carrying a note of skepticism, but there's a flicker of interest behind her gaze. She leans in slightly, one hand still gripping the pitcher of beer as she lowers it to the table now.

“You see,” Emi starts. “Our only child—our precious daughter is dating Satoru. She probably felt the most disgruntled in this situation out of everyone else. With the suddenness, we fear that everything we have worked for will be put to waste.”

“And with the news of your daughter’s involvement with Satoru Gojo, it has thrown things into disarray for us. What we need is to ensure that this situation doesn’t jeopardize our family’s legacy—both our reputation and, more importantly, our fortune.” Kenji finishes. 

Haruka snorts softly. “I see. So, you’re telling me this little bastard of hers is a problem for you too? What does that have to do with me?” Her words come out sharper than she intends, but she quickly masks it with another bitter laugh.

Emi’s cold gaze sharpens, a glint of something unspoken flickering behind her eyes. “Everything, Haruka. Your daughter’s ties to Satoru Gojo are a direct threat to the family’s interests. And with a child in the picture now… it complicates things further. But we’ve come to a solution, one that involves you—if you’re willing to cooperate.”

Haruka tilts her head, eyes narrowing as she watches the lawyer slide the formal paper across the table toward her. The ink on it is neat, but her eyes flick over it quickly, scanning the contents before she lets out a quiet scoff. “What is this? Some kind of bribe?”

The lawyer, keeping a neutral expression, nods. “It’s an agreement that ensures your cooperation in smoothing over this… situation. If you agree, your involvement will not only secure your own future, but it will also protect the financial interests of both families. In exchange, you’ll receive a position of influence, a stake in the inheritance.”

Haruka’s laughter rings out again, more amused. “Influence? A stake? Do you think I’m some desperate fool who’ll fall for your little schemes? I don’t need your money. I have enough desperate fools willing to give me that already.” She sneers at the paper but then pauses, looking at Kenji and Emi, the weight of their gaze pressing down on her.

She takes another sip from her pitcher, her mind whirling as she weighs her options. A part of her wants to lash out, to dismiss them and their offer completely. But there’s something about the way they’re looking at her, something cold and calculating that makes her pause. The truth is, she’s always been a gambler, and she knows when to fold and when to play her hand. “You really think this is gonna work out?” she says, her voice quieter now, but still filled with an edge of disbelief. “This… deal?” She hesitates, eyes flicking over the paper again, the signature line staring her down. “What exactly are you asking of me?”

Emi leans forward slightly, her posture unyielding. “We need you to leverage your relationship with your daughter. Influence her decisions, guide her actions—anything you can to help steer her away from Satoru. We want to ensure that the child and his existence don’t affect our plans. In return, we offer you protection, money, and a place at the table. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

Kenji watches her closely, his expression hard, but there’s a glimmer of expectation in his eyes.

Haruka’s mind races, her fingers idly tracing the rim of her beer glass as she processes the offer laid out before her. The temptation of power, of influence, is hard to ignore, even for someone who prides herself on being a free spirit. But she’s also no fool. She knows this is a high-stakes game—one where the risks outweigh the rewards if she misplays her cards. And the amount of 0’s she’s staring down at is inexplicably thrilling. She’s already imagining what she can buy with it. 

For a long moment, the room is silent, the tension thick. Emi and Kenji both stare at her intently, their eyes cold and calculating, watching her every move. The lawyer remains as neutral as ever, the formality of his expression only adding to the weight of the situation.

Haruka's lips curl into a smirk, the edges of her mouth twitching slightly as she leans back in her chair. “Leverage my relationship with my daughter, huh? You really think I can do that?” Her voice is laced with a mix of amusement and disdain. “You must think I’m a puppet master or something. But I’m not interested in some petty manipulation games.”

Kenji’s eyes flash for a brief second, a flicker of something darker crossing his features. "You know the consequences of doing nothing. You’ve been avoiding your daughter long enough, Haruka. But she’s not the same girl anymore. She's tied to Satoru Gojo now, and that complicates things. We need you to make sure she doesn’t forget her place. The family’s future is on the line."

Haruka’s hand freezes in mid-air, her gaze locking with Kenji's. She can feel the weight of her daughter’s past mistakes bearing down on her, the consequences that could affect everything she’s tried to distance herself from. Her jaw ticks, her eye twitching. What a stupid little girl, I tried warning you, didn’t I? “I don’t care about your legacy or your fortune,” Haruka mutters, her tone turning colder, sharper. “But I’m not stupid. I can see what you’re offering me.” Her fingers curl around the edges of the paper, her nails digging into the surface. “I have one question for you, though. What happens if I refuse?”

Emi doesn’t blink, her gaze unflinching as she answers. “If you refuse, Haruka, you’ll be left in the same position you’ve always been—irrelevant. Your daughter’s problems will escalate, and your connections, your influence, will be stay meaningless. You will never succeed and you’ll lose the tiniest amount of leverage you have. You’ll watch as everything you’ve ever taken for granted crumbles.” She pauses, the words hanging in the air. “But if you cooperate, we can guarantee your future. Your daughter’s involvement with Gojo doesn’t need to ruin you.”

Haruka’s eyes flick over the paper again, the signature line now feeling like an anchor, pulling her down into a world of obligations and consequences. She takes a deep breath, feeling the familiar rush of excitement that always comes when she’s faced with a gamble. It’s the thrill of uncertainty, the pull of what could be hers if she plays her cards right. Her bottom lip is worried between her teeth. 

“So, what you’re saying is... I’m supposed to ruin my own daughter’s happiness for the sake of your precious family’s legacy,” Haruka says, her voice low, almost contemplative. She stares at the paper one more time before meeting Emi’s gaze. "Fine. You’ve made your offer. But just so you know, I’m no one's pawn. I’ll make this work for me too. You’re not the only ones with something to gain."

Emi gives a small, satisfied nod, and Kenji’s lips tighten, but there’s a small shift in his demeanor—one that signals the deal has been struck. "Good," Kenji replies, his voice firm. "We’re glad we could come to an agreement. We will contact you if necessary and when your action is needed.”

Haruka, for the first time, sets the pitcher of beer down, her fingers now gently grasping the edge of the paper. She grins maniacally and signs it with a flourish. The ink is dark and permanent, sealing the agreement.

With the ink dry, she sits back, a smirk curling on her lips. “This will be fun.”

taglist is now closed

taglist: @celestialforce @theclassbookworm @tbzzluvr @uhenivid @ofkilljoysandslytherins

@sadmonke @bunheadusa @shartnart1 @lady-of-blossoms @itsinherited

@duooy @ari-sa @dakotali @mew4-ever18 @iv-vee

@devils-blackrose @a-girl-with-thoughts @bitchycloudstrawberry @tiffyisme3760 @iheartshopping

@chiara-hotel @uriahs-barn @celloccino @roronoazorosbxtchh @pseudophyllus

@ratedrrrr @m1gota @tojideckmuncher @yigaclvn @sukunaslve

@eiizabeth-torres @cherrythiccums0 @satorustorm @zoeyflower @username23345

@i0313z @gourdlorddgubes @partypoison00 @quinnyundertow @sorilyae

@redzscare @aldebrana @nycmagi @s4ikooo1 @dreaming-lis @gigiiiiislife

@boothillglazer @miss-dior @miakxn @rjreins

[two-white-butterflies]

you'll live forever | part one

Description: Hwang In-ho joins the newest edition of Squid Games as Player 001. He sees the wife that he believes to be dead, and she cannot remember him.

Pairing: hwang in-ho/reader

A/N: I love Squid Games but let us not allow the capitalism-fication of this franchise to let us forget about the series' core message. capitalism sucks. Don't let violence desensitize us. Warning: idk if I used the word hyung correctly... multipart, comment to get tagged.

There were times when he'd wake up too early in the morning when the sun would greet his sensitive eyes, and he'd take a longer time to adjust to the brightness. In those rare moments, he sees the faint silhouette of your body, in those rare times, he even smells your cherry blossom perfume.

A sigh escapes his mouth as he sinks further into the sheets.

No matter how far his hands reach out - you won't be there to hold it.

"I have work tomorrow, I don't want to drink." A complaint escapes In-ho's mouth as his younger brother drags him to the nearest bar. In-ho has never been fond of spending time around other people, he'd much rather focus on work and getting that new promotion...

"Who said anything about drinking, hyung? You promised me that you'd make time to meet my girlfriend," the younger man rolls his eyes, dragging his brother to the center of the room where everyone was huddled near the television. Yep, soccer. "My schedule is cleared next Saturday," In-ho raises an eyebrow.

"Oppa!!" He hears someone scream at the top of their lungs, and his brother quickly makes her way towards the woman - greeting her with a hug. 'Young love,' In-ho thinks to himself, as he turns to look the other way - he suddenly catches a glimpse of someone.

You.

One.

His eyes trailed upwards, soaking in the sight of your face. He sees his future inside of your eyes, your perfect lips, the way you slowly begin to smile at him.

Two.

His gaze trails downwards as he sees the beautiful dress that you're wearing. He begins to praise the summer days, his eyes brushing against your creamy thighs, making his heart thump erratically.

Three.

"Hyung, this is my girlfriend Hee-jo and that's her friend. What was your name again?" His brother turns to look at you, and that smile deepens - your eyes meeting his. "My name's In-ho," he greets, and you mumble your name underneath your breath, shaking his hand.

"I'm sorry for tagging along Jun-ho. Hee-jo's dad made me come with," You blushed. In fear that you were intruding on the couple's personal moment. "Don't worry, you're like a sister to me." Jun-ho chuckles, sitting beside Hee-jo - leaving his brother with no choice but to sit beside you.

As Hee-jo raises her hand to drink a glass of beer, the entire bar erupts into a cacophony of cheers - South Korea has earned a point! Everyone stands up, but In-ho and you remain seated.

He smiles, watching you cheer for the motherland.

This particular memory has been burned into his mind. It only took him three seconds to see you and fall in love. "Yay," you giggled after the bartenders announced a round of drinks on the house. And after that encounter, fate seemed to smile on you both.

He remembers all the memories, the good and bad.

He also remembers your first date. It was the first winter of 2008. "You were born in 1976?" You raised an eyebrow, continuing to stuff your face with beef and lettuce. "Yes, is there something wrong with that?" He pretended to look offended.

'How old is she?' his eyebrows merged together.

He places a piece of kimchi inside his mouth. "How old are you?" He asks, cursing himself for forgetting to ask Jun-ho. "I was born in 1986. I honestly thought that you were much younger," you pouted.

'That would make her...' he calculates your age in the back of his mind. Ten years younger than him! He almost bites his tongue. "Is that going to be a problem?" He tilts his head. He definitely does not have a chance with someone like you, so beautiful and young.

"No, I like older men." You say bluntly. He almost spits out his drink, earning a giggle from you. "Ouch," he pretends to be hit. "So, what is it exactly that you do for work?" You ask with a smile, happily eating your meal. "I'm a police officer. I mostly do detective cases, what about you?" He inquires with interest.

"I just graduated. I work at the hospital." You informed.

"Are you a doctor?" He asks.

"No, I'm a nurse. It's always been a dream of mine," your eyes sparkle at the mention of making your dreams a reality. "Saving people," you quickly added. "- I guess you feel the same way too, since you're a police officer." You pointed out.

In-ho nods.

"I guess we are the same," he continues nodding. The entire date, the smile does not leave his lips...then,

One date, becomes two, becomes a thousand.

And finally, you are getting married to him.

"Hey, are you okay?" In-ho wraps his arms around you, preparing to meet your guests who are waiting in the reception. A deep sigh escapes your mouth. "I'm scared," you confessed. He wraps his arms around you, already aware of your fears.

"I mean everyone's going to be from your side of the family - and everyone's already talking about how I don't have parents." You chuckled nervously. All these ajummas won't stop talking about your personal life. In-ho has even contemplated not inviting them at all, but his father insisted. "Fuck them," he shakes his head, cupping your cheeks and pressing a tender kiss on your forehead.

"Let's enjoy our wedding," he smiles.

"I love you, In-ho." You repeated.

"I love you more," he responded.

He has always loved you more.

The beautiful days of the roses were over, he was only left with the darkness of the night. "ESRD," the doctor opened his mouth to speak. "How dangerous is it?" In-ho fights against that heaving feeling in the back of his throat.

"ESRD, End Stage Renal Disease is where the kidney can no longer support the body's needs. Most typically, I would recommend dialysis in moderate cases, but for severe cases, I strongly advise a kidney transplant. Your wife has a very common blood type, it will be easy to get a match, but that's not the problem." The doctor hesitates, In-ho recognizes the man to be one of your closest friends.

He hands In-ho a stack of files.

"It's expensive to pay for kidney transplants in this country. There is a waiting list for donors, but it'll take decades - there are some who sell their kidneys but it costs almost a billion won, and then there's the medicine, the operation, and the hospital. It takes a lot of money and she's one of my closest friends so please feel free to reach out to me. I can give a bit of what I have." The doctor rambles.

Whatever it takes, even when the cost is too high.

₩649,344,412

In-ho stares at the cost of your transplant, and he knows that he doesn't have that money. "We'll be fine," he tells himself.

"I need to borrow money," In-ho stares at the loanshark. The man looked like a typical gangster, with tattoos all over his forearm, and the smell of cigarettes looming over the air.

"The high and mighty detective borrowing money from someone like me?" The man teased. In-ho has been watching this man for the past two years, waiting for a mistake - the loanshark's #1 enemy, and now begging at his doorsteps for money. "10% interest rate, you pay every month." The loanshark emphasized.

His cronies laugh, and one of them continues to massage him.

"5% and you give me the cash today," In-ho demands, an air of authority radiating around him. "Borrow money from someone else," the man scoffs. "- I know about the money laundering." In-ho leans cooly on the chair, pretending to be confident about the situation.

"6%," the man clenches his jaw.

"You have yourself a deal," In-ho agrees.

After the secret meeting, the loanshark got arrested. In-ho was fired from his job - the superiors believed that he was bribed to hide the loanshark's secret. And then he got a call from a random number.

He played ddakji with a strangely well-dressed man in the middle of the subway station, and he joined the 28th Squid Games.

He won the 28th Squid Games.

He exited the black van, his white shoes meeting the dirty ground. He stands to look at your home, everyone is staring at him. "What are you doing here!" Hee-jo screams at him. "She's dead, you didn't even visit her, she's dead!" Hee-jo yells.

In-ho stares in shock, looking around him, to see different types of flowers scattered all over the porch. 'I have the money,' he wanted to say as tears spilled out of his irises. "How dare you come here." Hee-jo continued crying as her grip on his forearm tightens, hurting him.

"In-ho," his younger brother looks shocked to see him.

"I'm sorry," In-ho mumbles.

I'm sorry.

Comment to get tagged for PT. 2

[thebubblesareevil]

Who’s the bad guy here, really?

(This is pretty rushed, but I completely forgot about this and didn't want to abandon it. Hope you like it)

Danny was tired.

It had been 3 months since he ran away from home and joined the league…well technically he joined the JR league. Apparently, once the league realized he was actually a 15 year old, they decided that MAYBE they shouldn't have him fighting Bizarro on his own.

Danny didn’t get it, but they got him enrolled in school and made sure he wouldn’t miss too many classes so that was a bonus.

That was about a month ago and Danny was certain the main team was mad at him for lying about being a half ghost. He thought he made some real friends before they moved him to the Jr squad, but no one was answering him.

Any hero that DID answer him always gave the same excuse.

“I’m sorry Danny, I’d love to hang out but we have to deal with this new villain duo!”

What’s worse is that any enquiry about the so-called villains was greeted with nervous glances and swift retreats.

(Danny was sure there were no new villain, the team would have heard about them by now)

The team did their best to cheer him after every evasion, but it really wasn't helping.

He did this to himself, but that was fine. His family was safe and that's all that mattered.

Three months ago, the GIW launched an all out war against phantom in amity park. Anyone that was suspected of having anything to do with ghosts was taken in for questioning and wouldn't come back for days. They even started to get aggressive towards his parents after they started advocating for Phantom.

So Danny did the only thing he could.

He left, as publicly as possible, Danny ran away from the only home he had ever known to protect his family.

And now his friends had ditched him because he lied.

Danny felt like shit.

---------

"This is the third attack on a League base in 2 weeks." Batman said sternly to the heroes surrounding the table. He pressed a button.

A holograph appeared over the table depicting 2 Villains carrying large weapons, destroying everything in their wake. The 2 were incredibly resilient. The larger of the two was taking hits from wildcat and the smaller tossed canary across the room, completely ignoring her screams.

Both had been stationed at the outpost to guard against these exact 2 villains, and both were still recovering.

Their threat level was raised, now it was their turn to step in.

-------

Danny dragged himself out of bed as he got up early for training. He heard a knock at the door.

"Come in." He shouted as he put on his shirt.

Conner walked in, scowling as he saw some of the scars littering Danny's chest.

"You ready? We're training with Batman today."

Danny scoffed. "Ready? No. No one's ready for Batman, I am excited though.

The two headed towards the dining room to eat before training when suddenly the alarms blared. They rushed to the comm room, meeting up with M'gann on the way.

"What's going on?!" She asked, bracing herself as the base shook.

"No idea, whatever it is its not good."

As they rushed into the comm room they greeted by the sight of a woman fighting hand to hand with Batman. Superman was on the floor covered in green goop while a large man was getting ready to toss Green Arrow across the room.

The teens stood in shock. Though only one spoke.

Well, maybe spoke wasn't the right word.

"MOM?!?!? DAD?!?!" Danny yelled.

The man spun around suddenly, casually tossing green arrow across the room.

"DANNO!!! MADDIE ITS DANNY!!!"

The man raced over, only to be cut off by the Flash blocking his path.

"Danny, run! We'll hold them off, just get out of here!"

Danny stood there dumbfounded.

His dad on the other hand, wasn't.

"You stay away from my son you damn creep!" He shouted as the Flash charged him, somehow not noticing the man pull out...a baseball bat?

Danny winced as flash got hit with the Fenton anti-creep stick.

"Dad! Stop! They're my friends!" He tried to placate his dad.

"Friends don't convince you to run away from home to join a cult!" He then noticed the other two teens. "Holy Fudge! MADDIE THERES MORE KIDS!!!" He shouted as his wife held off the creep from Gotham.

"Dad! The League didn't make me leave! And it isn't a cult!"

This made the man pause.

"I left to protect you guys! The GIW was gonna come for you, so I led them away! I only joined the league so I could keep helping people!" Danny yelled.

The orange-clad man stopped, giving his son a sad look.

"It's not your job to protect us son, it's our job to protect you." He said picking his son up and wrapping him in a bear hug.

Conner just stood there confused as M'gann clapped and grinned out the outcome.

"Now can you tell mom to stop trying to mace Batman?" Danny asked when his dad put him down. The two turned to the fighting duo.

"Let's give them 5 more minutes. Your mom hasn't had this much fun since she ditched that cult in Asia."

(Feel free to take this idea and run with it. I like the idea that the fentons are a force of nature that defies explanation..but Maddie definitely stole their early ecto samples from the lazarus pit)

[gouraminnow]

May I request something with platonic yandere whitebeard and a toddler reader? Like I’m envisioning the crew somehow pick up a young child that recently lost her parents. And she’s traumatized and shy just holding onto dear life a stuffed bunny that is almost as big as her because she’s just so tiny. And poor baby can’t sleep is injured and hides from the crew. She is just so used to sleeping with said stuffed animal and in the same bed as her deceased parents. So she wonders into whitebeards quarters after she was supposed to be “asleep” somehow climbs up onto that giant bed and goes ah yes this feels right and familiar (probably didn’t help that the crew calls him pops and she is like pops? Like papa? I sleep with papa and mama. Mama and papa gone. I no like. New papa? New papa. My papa. Sleep now.) and just melts and cuddles up to him holding her bunny tight falling fast asleep.

Wow this is really specific. I mean this completely genuinely, have some of you anons considered making ocs/dipping your toes into writing yourselves? You've pretty much written your own scenario right here. I got back into writing by chatting with someone I sent long asks to, so I recommend giving it a shot if you're on the fence a all :)

Anyway!

The WBP are the most likely to actually adopt. Everybody else is kind of a deadbeat. Even still, I don't think they'd bring such a young kid along unless there was nowhere safe to drop her off nearby + somebody gets attached. Which is far from impossible.

This kid is either some sole survivor of something horrible, living with adopters deemed unfit for parenting(in which case they likely aren't long for this world), or the dead parents were already connected to the WBP in some way so WB feels some form of connection/responsibility already. Whatever the case, this tiny kid is brought on board.

Real shy like you said, tries to run and hide but won't let go of the massive bunny either so she doesn't get very far... probably does the little kid thing where she sits behind a box or a curtain and thinks she's hidden just because she can't see any of them. They'll humor it, it's better than such a young kid actually finding a proper hiding place and going unsupervised for lord knows how long. Plus it's pretty cute.

Regarding Whitebeard and the sleeping arrangements specifically... I really don't see things working out. First, the kid has to be able to stand the old man's snoring. But hey, I slept through blenders and fire alarms as a kid, so it's possible! But on the other hand...

If Whitebeard rolls over or hell, just moves an arm wrong, he could crush the poor kid. Luckily, he wakes up as soon as she curls up with him. Maybe even sooner, the pitter-patter of her little feet against the floor enough to get his attention. This is the guy who woke up to fend off Ace's knife attack at the last moment, after all. He stays still, making his mind up to scold his adult children for their lapse in care in the morning- she shouldn't be able to sneak by them. That's ridiculous.

But he's not a monster. He's not gonna kick the poor thing out, especially not if she hasn't done much else to get closer to anyone. She clambers her way up onto the bed, dragging the rabbit up with her as she curls up in the strip of space between his arm and his body. And the little whispered murmur of "Papa" once she settles gets him good. So he sighs, resigning himself to a sleepless night, slowly moving his massive hand closer to cradle the poor thing. It's enough to cover her and the rabbit both. He'll be scolded by Marco and the nurses for not getting his rest, and he'll scold his other children for letting the kid sneak into his room in the first place.

It's fine, though. If she insists on sleeping in Papa's room after that night, he has them move a smaller bed in next to his to minimize the risk of squishing. Kind of like a motorcycle side-car but. It's a bed.

[lol-jackles]

Why was The Winchesters cancelled? Is it true that there was unsafe site while filming it too? And so you think that Danneel is the main reason for this sequel (as a producer) Or is it truly Jensen? Because I can't really see Jensen as someone who won't tell Jared about it.

The Winchesters was cancelled because the budget was too high in part because they were behind on schedule, and the rating trends was not promising. The lack of cohesive communication and management was what really doomed The Winchesters. The Ackles' failure to tell Jared ahead of time was a harbinger. Jensen and Danneel expected Robbie Thompson to be Eric Kripke 2.0 and manage everything for them. Whereas Robbie expected Jensen and Danneel to pull their own weight. There was no communication on expectations.

It comes down to the Ackles' lack of business acumen as producers. They're used to just slapping their face onto a product and sit back and collect the royalties, which is fine, that's how most celebrities make money from side hustles. But to be an actual business man or producer you're supposed to be out there in the middle of the field managing expectations, conflicts, and emotion.   Some people are more enamored with the fantasy of having a business than with actually running a business.  Starting a business is fun but running it and doing the basic business “blocking and tackling” every single day is what makes it successful.  It’s like how planning a wedding is fun, but it’s not a good precursor to a successful marriage.  Working on the marriage everyday is what makes it successful.  (It’s partly why the Misha-Jensen collaboration on YANA failed because neither of them wanted to do the actual legwork.) After 15-20 years, Jensen is used to lead actors doing the heavy lifting in carrying the show and being leader of the cast and crew and he benefitted from the sweet spot as #2 on the call sheet i.e. the good guy who is friends with everyone. Remember his "don't fuck it up for me" message to The Winchester cast?

I think Danneel gets too much blame from the fans. Jensen wasn't ready to let go of $upernatural and it's money making train. I think why the Ackles were trying to take over the $PN brand is to close the $ gap between Jensen and Jared. I’ve long speculated that while Jared the highest paid CW actor he also gets percentages of the series profit in syndication. I doubt Jensen has the same deal going by his pre-Gersh management that I sometimes wondered if his old manager was a tick.    

The common saying of “money is the number one cause of stress in relationships” while is true, I think it’s actually lack of financial literacy.  Long held rumors were Jared negotiated a better convention contract for Jensen so that they are paid on the same scale.   This is why I think Jared ultimately didn't hold it against Jensen for pursuing a $PN show without him because Jensen is attempting to negotiate on his own a deal instead of relying on Jared.

Had Jensen keeps trying to be in charge of SPN projects, SPN fans’ reaction is going to be the same as today’s Marvel fanboys’ reaction to when they hear Kevin Feige’s name: “What did you did do this time you Son of a Bitch!? What train did you derail this time?”

[sylveenn]

Quick trigger warning ⚠

Picture this, you're talking with some of your girl friends and a single guy about all things feminism. About how women are so undervalued and independent and don't get treated as well as they should. When suddenly, your male friend seems a bit... Annoyed. After the talk when you two are alone you ask him why that was, and, before you can even do anything about it, he shoves you against the wall. He rips off your clothes and rapes you as hard as he can. You feel so disgusted, so violated and hurt. You try to scream for help but he shoves 3 fingers into your mouth, making you choke. You can't believe he'd do this to you. You try to push him off, try to hit him, anything to break free, but he's much stronger than you. You can't do anything to stop him. You feel so helpless, so scared and angry. But deep down you can't help but enjoy it, he just feels so good. Every thrust into you drains out any thoughts of resisting him. He's so rough with you but you don't care, you're too horny to care. All you care about is the cock violating you, and the man behind it. All you can think about is how you want more, you need more, you'd do anything for it. Youve never felt so good, you hope it never ends. What started as screaming and fighting back, turned into begging for more and trying to hold him closer to you, in the hopes he'll go even deeper. You moan out "fuck me harder, please, rape me harder, Daddy" and upon hearing that, you feel his cum fill you up. It feels so natural being full like this, it makes you feel happy. He let's go of you and zips his jeans back up, if you hadn't been fucked too stupid to think or feel anything, youd be sad it was over. Then he leaves you there, so weak you're just sitting against the wall, his cum leaking out of you. You could tell your friends, you could call the police.. But you don't want to. You're already wanting it again, you're smiling at the thought. Over the next few months you'd dress sluttier around him, hoping he does it again. You'd send him pictures showing off. You'd go out of your way to run little errands for him. And each time you'd pleased him enough he'd fuck even more of the feminism out of your mind. He'd replace it with thoughts of submission, and service. Thoughts of being a slutty housewife, cooking and cleaning for him. Thoughts of how stupid you were for ever thinking you were equal to him, or that you weren't treated well. Eventually, all that would become reality. You'd live with him as a full-time housewife, doing whatever he wants. He wants food? You'd cook it and suck him off while he eats. Cleaning? You'd do it naked, with cameras all through the house to watch if he's ever gone. And you're happy with all of it. Anything for your Master... Eventually your old, feminist friends would try to "help fix you", but you'd tell them they were wrong for denying their true roles. They're simply denying the truth, like you once did, until a man was kind enough to show you the truth. You don't speak with them anymore, but you hope they're one day enlightened by the truth. But you quickly forget about them, as now your one and only focus, is your rapist husband, your master, forever~

[obsessivestar]

'What If It's All A RomCom?' a Ted Nivison x Reader (Lemon)

{{-This might be the longest fucking chapter I've ever written for anything ever so please enjoy LMAO also gif made by me-}}

//General Warnings: 18+ (MINORS DNI FUCK OFF), Reader is implied to be afab and under 5'5. She/They pronouns used.\\

//Chapter Warnings: More Rainforest Cafe, references to old chapters including smut from chapter 6. Oh also smut here LMAO. Semi-public sex, reader played with, dirty talk, articles of clothing ripped, how many warnings do you want before I give the whole scene away--\\

Word Count: 7.4k fuck

☆▪︎▪︎▪︎Taglist!▪︎▪︎▪︎☆

@k-k0129 , @callsign-scully , @limecorpse & @hyper-fixation-nation-13

☆Love Ya To Death!☆

Chapter 18: A Left Turn

We spend a lot of time inside the Rainforest Cafe, mostly because it took quite a bit of time to be served. We got our drinks fairly quickly, but Dan and Joe were having a hard time deciding what to have to eat so our server left us for a little while. Thankfully, a majority of all the talking was distracting us from how hungry we were. We talked about literally everything that we've accomplished together both as a film crew and a friend group. We talked about how we all kinda freaked out during that first day when Conner couldn't make it, and how relieved everyone was when Ted took his place. Joe talked a bit about where he got the inspiration for Kara and Mason's wardrobe, our characters, and Dan once again apologized for almost hitting me with that football that Tanner made him throw at Ted and I. Good times.

Speaking of Ted and I, that topic came up shortly after due to Dan's genuine curiosity.

"I just don't understand how this happened." Dan admitted with an innocent little smile, holding his hands out in front of him as he speaks. "Like, you guys weren't already together when I threw the football?"

"No, it happened like 3 days later." Ted admitted with a casual shrug, relaxing a bit against the back of the booth. He was right, but I was surprised to hear him admit it to everyone.

"What happened, though?" Dan asked with a bit more emphasis, placing both of his hands on the table. It's a weird question to be asked but I can tell that Dan means well. He isn't necessarily trying to pry into our business, he's just...very young and innocent at heart despite being one of the older members of the friend group. Ted turns his head to look at me, giving me a smug little smirk with an eyebrow raised, as if to signal me to answer.

"What?" I look up at him with my own brows furrowed a little, a slight chuckle slipping out. "Do you want to talk about it? Here?"

"Why not?" Ted replied with a simple little shrug. "My friends already know a bit of it, yours could as well.."

"Wait, really?" I'm a little surprised to hear that. "Who? Which friends?"

"Tucker and Schlatt--well, Schlatt doesn't know what we did, but Tucker does."

"Tucker knows?"

"Yeah."

"Everything?"

"About that night, yeah. Mostly everything."

"Mostly?"

"Well I didn't go into excruciating detail or anything, but yeah, mostly."

"When did you tell him?"

"I had texted him before you woke up that morning."

"You texted him while I was next to you?"

"Yeah."

"So he knew before I was on the podcast?"

"Yeah, he did."

"...huh."

"Why are you surprised?" Ted chuckled a little, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "How fast did you go to Joe about us again?"

"I'm--Okay, that's a fair point, actually.." I playfully roll my eyes and nod a little. After a decent little pause, Ted turns back to look at Dan.

"Anyways, we had sex."

Most of us started laughing at that response, with Dan letting out a genuine, but almost exaggerated "What!?" in between laughs. Him being so shocked is honestly valid, especially after that tangent between Ted and I.

"3 days later? Jesus, man!" Dan chuckles, gently smacking his hands down on the table. "No patience!"

"What day was that again?" Tanner asks with a confused little smile, looking over everyone's expressions.

"The day we had to go out and replace my wardrobe.." I admit in a slightly softer voice, sort of hugging myself in my seat.

"It was when you passed out in my bed." Ted added, pointing over at Tanner. "The first time we were up late editing?"

"Oh yeah.." Tanner glanced down a little, nodding slowly before looking up at Ted again. "And my door was locked, right?"

"Yeah, no idea why." Ted admitted with a shrug. "I couldn't turn the knob and I didn't really want to wake everyone to the sound of me breaking down your door, so I just knocked on theirs. Knew they were awake."

Huh. So Tanner really was taking up Ted's bed the first night. What an odd way for the world to put Ted and I together. "I genuinely thought it was a fuckin' story." I speak up after taking a sip from my drink. "I thought it was a whole-ass excuse just to get me alone."

"Hey, I know you like to think I'm some hot-shot lady wranglin' casanova over here.." Ted snickers slightly, turning his body a little to address me. "But despite what you think, I didn't intend to sleep with you that night."

"It kinda sounds like you did." Tanner admitted with his head tilted, resting his elbows on the table. I could tell that everyone was invested in this whole thing, Joe included, despite him already knowing everything. Mostly everything.

"I didn't! It wasn't--alright--" Ted's tone became defensive as he held his hands up in mock surrender, letting out a chuckle. "Alright, alright, listen: Was I kinda thinkin' about it? A little, maybe. Sure, but I wasn't plannin' on tryin' anything; not that night anyways."

"So how did it happen?" Joe asks with a knowing smirk, his body turned towards the both of us to give us his full attention. Joseph, you fuck, you already know.

"Because (Y/N)'s kinda a little whore, if I'm bein' honest." Ted admits without an ounce of hesitation, using his usual exaggerated tone.

"YO!" I laugh out and turn to smack his arm, hearing a quiet 'ah' escape him as I laugh. "I am NOT! You jumped me!"

"I didn't jump you! You were--"

"You cornered me by my window and my bed!"

"You wanted to kiss me!"

"I had no where to go!"

"You were givin' me the goo-goo eyes! The bedroom eyes!"

"I glanced at your lips ONCE, Ted!"

"And what does that mean, princess? Hmm? What does looking at the lips mean?"

"It's a fucking--"

"What does looking at the lips mean?"

"Ted--"

"Do you remember? Do you remember what it means?"

"Shut the fuck up!" I laugh.

"You used the tell for the film?" Tanner chimes in with a soft laugh, furrowing his brows in disbelief. "That's what did it?"

"Absolutely she did!" Ted points at Tanner with pure confidence in his expressive voice. "She looked, I made her admit it, then it happened."

"And now the whole fucking cafe knows." I lower my voice a bit with a playful eye roll, shaking my head at Ted. "You're being loud as fuck, you know that?"

"Oh come on, babe. Doesn't it feel kinda good to tell everyone?" Ted grinned back at me, getting yet another little eye roll from me. "Isn't it kinda funny?"

"....In a sense.."

The conversation was cut short when our server returned to take our food order. Dan and Joe had finally decided on what they wanted, so we could all finally order our food and wait for it to arrive. It was hard to believe that we'll all be separating in the next 9 or so days. Some of us will be flying back home, some of us will make a long road trip out of it and Ted will simply be just getting on the highway for, like, a 45 minute drive at best. It's odd. He'll have the smallest distance to travel, but he'll feel so far away...

I try to keep my thoughts focused on the group and their loud banter, watching with a smile on my face as Joe and Tanner rock back and forth in a laughing fit. Joe put his head in his hands and Tanner leaned his head back with his hand on his chest. I've clearly missed something. "What? What did you say?" I ask with a confused little smile, tilting my head at Joe as he leaned against my shoulder.

"We were talking about the--oh god.." Joe almost couldn't answer my question, wiping under his eyes as he chuckled. "Tanner, fuck man, oh my god.."

"I still have to show it to you guys, but we're talking about something we caught while editing last weekend." Tanner was able to catch his breath enough to start explaining it, an occasional laugh slipping out. "Y'know how we had to reshoot some scenes outside the other day?"

"Yeah, that's why Ted had to shave." I reply with a small smile, glancing over at Ted.

"She's still very upset about that." Ted adds in a joking tone, giving me a little point.

"Well--Okay, first of all, rude to just air that out." I let out a little laugh, turning my body more to look at Ted. "I was not upset, I was just...wanting you to grow it out a bit.."

"I am, half of it is already back." Ted rubs his slightly stubbled cheeks with his hands, shrugging a little. "It grows in fast, princess."

"Have you ever thought about growing a mustache?" Dan chimes in, resting both of his arms on the table.

"Ooh, y'know what..." Ted narrows his eyes with a smirk, leaning back a bit with his arms crossed in front of his chest. Man, he has nice arms... "I haven't grown in my mustache in a long time...maybe I will.."

"It'll look schnazzy for the premiere." Tanner gives him a gesture of approval before adjusting himself in his chair. We gotta stop going off on tangents like that.

"Anyways, what we were laughing about was something Joe and I caught while we were editing last weekend. There was a part of the file that got corrupted and it created this weird mix match of scenes that made it look straight out of a YouTube poop."

"The files mixed? Mixed how?" I repeated, tilting my head a little again. "Like, into 2 scenes?"

"Yeah, it mixed one of the outdoor shots with Ted pushing you into the pool." Tanner explained, beginning to laugh a little as he recalls the scene for us. "And--and so the camera pans--it pans, cuts to you two, you get pushed into the pool and it froze on the exact frame you go under the water. When it froze, the audio still plays and it's the loudest fucking, like...crashing into water sound I've ever heard. It was so fucking funny."

"Here, I recorded it on my phone." Joe takes his phone out of his pocket and opens the video, handing his phone to me so Ted and I could watch it. It was almost exactly how Tanner had described it, but it looked like it was some video game glitch. When I hit the water, the file was so corrupted, it looked like water was continuously coming out of the pool with my body vibrating inside it. The sound was LOUD, too, making Ted and I erupt into unexpected laughter.

"Jesus christ!" Ted laughs out, smacking his thigh a bit as he leaned back. "How the fuck did that happen!?"

"I honestly have no idea!" Tanner chuckled, shrugging his arms out a bit. "It was fine inside the camera! Sending it to my PC just did that!"

"Can you send that to me?" I ask Joe in between little laughs, placing a hand over my own chest.

"Yes, absolutely. It's so fucking funny.." Joe chuckled, carefully taking his phone back from me so he could send me the video. I needed to put that on my Instagram story or something. I'd have to do it later though. Maybe we'd been here longer than we thought, or maybe we were being so rowdy that it caught the staff's attention, but we finally got all of our food shortly after Joe sent me the video, so we were all finally able to calm down a bit and enjoy our meals, glancing up from our plates when another rainstorm occurred. That's still a little jarring, in a good way.

Honestly, the food wasn't too bad. The safari fries were a lot better than I thought they'd be and I thoroughly enjoyed what I had ordered. Everyone else seemed pretty satisfied too. I would've finished everything on my plate if it weren't for Ted, who had ordered a bit more than the rest of us. He wanted all of us to try a little bit of the nachos so we all sort of had a free appetizer with our meals. Honestly, Ted was the most eager out of all of us to come here but we were all having a blast. I couldn't stop smiling the whole time, even after another two or so Rainforest thunderstorms. I could tell that Ted was enjoying himself just as much, if not more. I kept catching him looking at me with a big dumb smile no matter what I was doing, whether I was turned away to talk to Joe or straight up stuffing way too many nachos into my mouth, he looked infatuated with me. It was really nice, in a strange way.

Once we were all done our food, Ted called for our bill. At first, he tried to pay for the entire meal, but most of us strongly disagreed with that idea. I stayed relatively quiet while everyone argued about paying for their own meals. I mean, I'd happily pay for my own meal if I had to, I'd feel bad about making Ted pay for it...at the same time, free dinner sounds pretty good and I oddly like the idea of Ted spoiling me even a little bit. The argument was settled when Tanner brought up the fact that he still had money on the credit card the school had given him for the film. Yes, the "emergency" credit card. Dan brought up the fact that Tanner seemingly wanted to use it for what was clearly not an emergency, Tanner just shrugged and said "We can't decide who's paying, sounds like an emergency to me." And we ultimately all agreed to use it, because making his school pay for our Rainforest Café dinner is just really funny.

After we've paid our bill, we make a quick trip to the gift shop to buy matching shirts, very similar to the one Ted had brought, and take a few group photos inside and outside of the joint before finally separating back to our vehicles. Joe, Dan and Tanner returned to their ride and Ted and I moved back to his Toyota Tacoma. Just as I had hopped into the passenger seat, I watched Ted do a quick little jog over to the guys and tell them something, though even with the windows rolled down I can't make out any of it. Huh.

Ted quickly steps back over and gets into the driver's seat, a small smirk on his face as he starts his truck up.

"What did you tell them?.." I ask with a curious smile, but I don't get an immediate answer. Ted takes his time carefully getting out of the parking lot, the smirk staying on his face. I furrow my eyebrows a little at him and just sort of...watch. His silence is making me a little anxious.

"Hang on, I'll tell you when we're on the road.." Ted speaks as he stops to let another car pass. He's being strangely...inconspicuous about this, which means he's up to something. I see Dan's van drive out of the parking lot and make a right turn to head down the main street, but when Ted gets to that same exit after a bit of navigating, he turns left. I furrow my brows again and turn to look at him. He's still smirking.

"You feelin' alright?" Ted speaks up again once he's on the main road, keeping his eyes front with his smug little smirk still along his blush-toned lips. "Not feelin'...stuffed at all?"

"Stuffed? I mean..." I'm getting more confused by the second, sitting up more in my seat. "I'm full, but I'm not sore or anything. Why?"

"Just checkin'.." Ted glances at me briefly, staying straight on the road. I don't know this area very well, but I know that our set isn't in this direction. "I told the others I'd take ya sight seeing for a bit."

"Sight seeing?" I repeat and briefly turn away, my eyes focusing down in my lap for a moment. "What are we seeing? Where are we--"

It hits me.

Oh.

Oh.

I remember.

"That...kinda depends on whether or not I'm makin' another left at these lights up here.." Ted slips his hand off the wheel slightly to point out towards the lights we were approaching. It seemed like turning left would lead into some sort of middle class neighborhood, while turning right would likely bring us back to the path home.

"Y-You're making me decide this now?" I'm immediately flustered, turning to look at him with a nervous pout. "How long did you say we'd be gone?"

"Didn't specify, but we don't have to be gone long.." Ted gave a slight shrug, easing up a bit when the light began to turn red. "Doesn't always have to last 20 or so minutes. Am I turnin' left?"

I try to get something, anything out quickly but I just stammer over my own voice and let out a nervous chuckle. I can't tell if he's bluffing, thought at this rate I doubt he ever is. He mentioned knowing a few spots before we got to the restaurant, but I thought it was a fucking joke. It's very quickly not becoming a joke...and it's very quickly becoming very, very tempting.

"I won't be upset if it's a no, but you got about 15 seconds to answer me. Give or take." Ted speaks up again to get my attention, glancing at me briefly. "Am I turnin' left?"

"Do you actually have a spot in that direction?" I ask, my curiosity getting the better of me. I want to have at least some idea of where we're going. I certainly don't need to know what we'll be doing. I already know.

"Yes." Ted answers simply, slowing down ever so slightly. "I know a few, this is the closest."

"But that's through a suburb."

"Yeah, I know."

"The spots near those houses?"

"A house, kind of."

"Have you ever used it?"

"Not that one, no."

"Have you ever been caught?"

"Not in L.A."

"Isn't there a chance we could get caught there, especially if you've never used it?"

"No, not with what I know. Am I turnin' left, or...?"

Christ, I can't believe I'm doing this. "...turn."

I see Ted's smirk grow into a mischievous smile as he carefully switches lanes so he can turn left at the red light, bringing us into a neighborhood I didn't recognize. A devilish little chuckle leaves Ted and he shakes his head. It's like he also can't believe what I had just agreed to, and he's the one who made the damn offer in the first place.

"Don't laugh at me.." I playfully glare at him, anxiously crossing my arms in front of my chest. "This was your idea.."

"Yeah, and it's fucking awesome that you're into it." Ted replied with a cocky little grin, removing one of his hands from the steering wheel to rest it in his lap. I turn away for a moment just to glance out the window, noticing very quickly that there wasn't a single other car on this street. Even most of the driveways were empty. Maybe a majority of the people in this neighborhood work nights and closing shifts. Ted must've known that, though how he came across this area was a whole other story.

"Hey." Ted gets my attention by placing his free hand on my thighs, glancing at me with that confident, charming little grin. "Got a question for ya, princess.."

I can already feel my cheeks heating up and my stomach bubbling up with anxiety, turning my head to look at him. I was trying to appear as calm as possible. "Yeah?.." I respond simply, keeping my tone soft just in case I became shaky. His hand feels so warm on me...

"...Didya ever...think about me?.." Ted lowers his tone a little, occasionally glancing at me as he drove down the empty street. "Y'know, before anythin' happened? Did ya...think about how it'd go? How it'd feel?"

I find myself rolling my eyes and looking out my window again, letting out a shaky sigh. There's no way I'm gonna be able to answer that while looking at him. "Yeah..." I'm able to speak up enough so he can hear me clearly, but my tone is otherwise quiet and shy. "It...pretty much went exactly how I'd pictured it. You on top...a leg over your shoulder..."

"Oh yeah?" Ted speaks with a little purr, giving my thigh a small squeeze. I feel his thumb begin to slowly caress my inner thighs, his tongue gliding along the ends of his top teeth. "Ya like me on top?.."

I roll my eyes again. It's instinctual. It's like I'm annoyed with myself for enjoying his suggestive questioning. I look forward to see Ted go through a roundabout, heading down a new street that seemingly lead to no where. "I like...losing control. Giving it.." I admit after a little pause, slowly moving my tongue along my lower lip to wet it a bit. "You're just so...right for me in that way, I never have to worry about...telling you to slow down or curve up or anything, you just know. You just do it, and it's been good...every single time."

Even thinking about it now was making that familiar tingly warmth appear between my legs, lightly dragging my teeth along my lower lip. Sometimes, if I really think hard about it, I can still feel the anticipation of him pushing into me for the first time, how well I shape around him...

I can see that Ted is happy with my honest answer. A pleased little hum leaves him and he squeezes my thigh again. He keeps doing that and I'm gonna make him pull over...

"I know I haven't left you alone since that night, but..." Ted pauses to choose his words carefully, glancing at me again. "You ever...touch yourself to me, princess?.." Just as he ends his question, he slowly slides his hand more up my thigh, his thumb inching closer to my clothed core. Even through my clothes, I can feel his warm touch, I can feel myself aching for him, desiring him all over again.

"I've....never had the time.." I admit with a breathless little chuckle, trying not to tense up against my seat too much. "But...I've thought about it.."

"You've thought about it, huh?.." Ted begins to slow down a little, giving me another quick glance with his suggestive grin. "Ya wanna try it?.."

Gods, how does this man do that with just his voice?...

"Try it?" I turn to look at him fully, raising a curious brow. I'm trying real hard to hide how much he's getting to me. "Try it how? In here? In--In front of you?"

Ted, once again, chooses not to answer me right away. His suggestive grin grows and another low little chuckle escapes him. "...You'll see. You'll like it..."

Ted continues to drive until he's at the very end of the street with some large looking home to our left and a small little forest to our right. There isn't a single car in the driveway and it looks like all of the lights are on. The truck tilts and bobs ever so slightly as Ted pulls into the dirt path leading into the small forest, removing his hand from my thigh to steady the truck with both hands. Where the fuck are we? And how did he discover this place? Ted glances around a bit before parking and completely turning off his vehicle, letting out a little sigh. He removes his seatbelt, letting it slip behind him before turning to me with a smirk.

"Backseat, princess." He gestures back with a thumb. Oh god, okay, this is happening. Why am I even surprised? It's Ted, with me. He's obsessed...and honestly, so am I.

I quickly remove my seatbelt and move around to crawl into the back seat, grunting as I attempt to get through this awkward crawling bit as fast as I can. I realize that I've never seen his backseat so...cleared before. I don't think I've ever seen anyone's backseat so cleared. Did he plan this?

X

As I'm getting comfortable, Ted immediately moves towards me to crawl overtop of me, pinning me down on my back with his body. I'm honestly surprised he can even fit back here with how tall he is, but he seems relatively comfortable. He grabs my face and pulls me into a deep, sultry kiss, letting out a muffled groan against my lips. With how short these seats are, one of my legs are hanging over the side of the seat, my lap already completely spread for him. I'm able to loosely wrap my arms around his neck, already feeling him slip his tongue into my mouth for more of me. A small moan escapes me, which immediately turns into a more surprised moan when I feel his tented shorts press against me. He's trapped me beneath him, I couldn't go anywhere even if I wanted to. I can already feel my own excitement growing at that realization.

Ted kisses me roughly a bit more before pulling away to begin trailing hot kisses down my neck. As he pulls back a bit to say something, his glasses slip off his face and bop me on the bridge of my nose, making both of us let out a little laugh.

"Fuck, sorry--" Ted chuckles lowly, carefully snatching his glasses before they'd fall, tossing them onto the side surface in between the front seats.

"You're...so impatient.." I let out a soft purr, leaning my head back a little when he continued to trail his kisses along my neck.

"I know, I'm not doin' well at all.." Ted snickers a bit against my nail, nipping a bit along my jaw. "Soon as you agreed to it, I just...fuck, (Y/N).."

Ted knows we need to be semi quick, so as his hand moves down my body, he completely ignores my shirt and heads straight for my pants. He slips his hand in between my opened legs to touch my clothed core, my thighs flinching as a shaky moan leaves me. "Theo.." I tilt my head to moan into his ear, feeling the tips of his fingers press into the loose fabric of my pants. I know. I know he can feel how wet I already am, and it's all his fault. I don't know if it's normal for a man to make me such a mess so quickly, but he does it to me. Oh, he does it to me so easily...

"I know, baby. I know.." Ted moves up ever so slightly to whisper into my ear, moving his hand up to slink under the waistband of my pants, pushing my panties aside to slip his fingers between my folds. "I've got you, I've got you.."

A sharp gasp leaves me at his warm hand against me, glancing down to see his hand down my pants, wanting the pretty sight burned into my memory. I'm already soaked against his fingers, my panties are probably already a mess. My arousal only grows when I feel him push two fingers into me, making me lean my head back and moan out for him. I feel his fingers curl up inside me, massaging that perfect little spot from the inside.

"Oh you're drenched.." Ted purrs into my ear with a low little snicker, beginning to pump his fingers inside me with the small amount of room he had. "Did you get horny at the thought of me fuckin' you in my car? You're bad, princess. You're...fucking perfect.."

My pants have never felt so restrictive in my entire fucking life until now. I close my eyes as his fingers work me inside, pressing my foot against the back door with a groan.

"T-Take my pants off.." I beg with a slight growl in my throat, a shiver running through my body as Ted trails his tongue along the side of my neck, knowing he's doing it just to tease me.

"Hands are kinda busy, princess.." Ted purred against my neck with another low snicker, rebalancing himself overtop of me by moving his free hand against the backs of the seats. I groan in response, giving his wrist in my pants a quick smack so he'd remove it. I grunt quietly as he slipped his fingers out of me completely, listening to his dark chuckles as I push my own pants down my legs, wiggling my hips to slip them down to my ankles.

"These too, princess.." Ted shifts slightly to look at me, pressing his two fingers against me through my panties. A quiet gasp escaping me in response.

"Y-You do it.." I huffed, giving him a needy glare. I know Ted wants us to be quick, which of course means I need to start misbehaving, to test his patience. I see his eyes sparkle a bit with a surprised smile spreading along his blush-toned lips, raising a brow at me.

"Oh you really don't want to test me right now, babe.." Ted purred down at me, giving me a small shake of his head. "You're wearing lace. Y'know how easy that is to rip open? You wanna find out?"

"You think you're gonna rip them?" I ask with a quiet, mocking little chuckle.

"I will rip them." Ted insisted with a slight nod. "That's not a concern, that's a promise."

"Oh is that so?"

"Absolutely. Wanna test me right now? On the way back, you'll be sitting with nothing to cover how much I've stuffed your sensitive little cunt.."

"Bet."

Ted's eyes flared up at my response, like I just snapped a twig while he's on the hunt. He sits up a bit more so he can use both of his hands to grab the front of my panties, ripping them open like they were nothing.

"Ted! You--" I gasp out, the rest of my words muffled by the feeling of his fingers pushing into my mouth, making me taste myself.

"Shut up, I fucking warned you." Ted scoffs down at me, removing his fingers from my mouth so he could return them to my core, spreading my essence and saliva over my sensitive bud. He uses his free hand to lift my shirt up just so I feel even more exposed, leaning back over me to return to my neck. He uses his two fingers to make slow little circles around my sensitive clit, my exposed, spread thighs shivering in response.

"Oh my g-god, Teddy...that's..." I moan softly for him, leaning my head back once more. I don't even have the energy to think about my torn panties anymore, his touch is so sensual and pleasent, it feels really good.

"Yeah, there you go..." Ted whispered into my ear with another low snicker, changing the pace of his fingers to begin flicking them back and forth against my clit, pressing a kiss to the side of my neck. "Relax, baby. Relax beneath me.."

I let a few shaky moans escape me, closing my eyes to focus on all of the touches and noises around me. I can feel Ted's hot breath against my neck, his fingers working my sensitive bud in alternating paces. I can hear the way his fingers rub against me, occasionally dipping into my entrance for more of my essence, spreading it over my sensitive clit, my arousal making my breathing quicken and become uneven. I began to let my thoughts wander, recalling our first night in bits and pieces. I thought about how it felt to kiss him in my room with true passion and desire, how it felt to have him in my bed...

"You're thinkin' about it, aren't you? Bout that night?.." Ted purrs into my ear, flicking his fingers against my clit a little faster, letting the tip of his tongue curl along my ear. "Y'know how often I think of that? Of every night I've had you beneath me?.."

My mouth is open to let my sweet sounding moans slip out, though words refuse to form. I give him a shaky little nod instead, angling my hips up ever so slightly as if to grind against his fingers.

"I think about how well you responded to everything I did to you.." Ted whispers to me, alternating between circling and flicking his fingers along my sensitive bud. "I think about how we didn't need to say a word...how we knew exactly where to touch each other, where to feel, where to taste. Oh baby, and you taste so good..."

I close my eyes and allow myself to fully focus on his words and his touch, unable to balance my heavy breathing. An occasional little moan escaped me, urging him to keep going.

"I'll never have to touch myself again with you so eager, mm?.." Ted continues to whisper sweet nothings into my ear, occasionally moving to nip or suck on little spots along my jaw or neck. "You'll just do anything for my touch, won't you? You were made for me, princess. Made for me to play with. Look at you, look at how pretty your pussy is to play with.."

I can't help myself. With him, I must do as I'm told. I can feel the arousal in my body increasing, my core becoming warmer and more sensitive. I feel him adjust so I can look down at myself, watching as his fingers dip into my core to get more of my essence along his fingers, bringing them back up to continue to play with me, the pace of his fingers flicking across my clit only becoming faster and faster.

"Pretty little thing, mm?..." Ted glances down at his hand, a low, mocking chuckle leaving him as he watches my chest rise and fall with my quick, desperate breaths. "God, you're so fun to play with, baby. Pretty little pussy's all mine, isn't it? Can you say that, baby? Can you say that before you cum?..."

Everything is starting to feel more and more intense, I don't know if I'll even be able to get a word out before I finish. I let out a needy moan and lean my head back again, closing my eyes once more. "P-Pretty--pretty..." I manage to mutter out in between quick breaths, pouting my lips out with a desperate little whine. "T-Teddy, I'm--"

"Don't cum, princess. Don't cum just yet.." Ted teases me with a low snicker, yet his quickens his pace against my clit. "Tell me, tell me it's pretty. No no no, don't.."

"I-I am!--I'm!--"

Unfortunately, him urging me to hold it in while his fingers increased their pace was the exact thing that triggered my first climax. I shut my eyes and moan out for him, my body shivering and shaking as my orgasm intensifies through my whole body, rising up my chest and into my head. His fingers continued to move relentlessly against my sensitive clit as my head gets all fuzzy, my eyes rolling back as the last of my climax shivers up my spine. That was a completely different kind of release, at least compared to when he goes down on me, but it was...exhilarating. It felt amazing. He knows my body so well. I have a sneaking suspicion that he intended for me to finish then and there, despite telling me to wait

My hazy thoughts are interrupted by Ted snickering lowly at me, spreading his fingers over my core. "You bad girl.." He purrs to me, bringing his hand up to lightly clasp around my throat, keeping me down against the seat. "Thought I told you to wait. Pathetic..."

I open my eyes to meet his heated gaze, my lips parted as I tried to catch my breath. Ted was right, I liked that. I really liked that. Having him play with me was incredible. Now I'm the impatient one. "T-Too bad, I guess.." I manage to speak out with a shaky chuckle, letting my tongue smooth along my upper lip. "Now, you gonna keep everyone waiting or are you gonna fuck this pretty pussy?.."

I see Ted's eyes once again flare up with desire and arousal, hearing him let out another dark, yet shakier chuckle. That's exactly what he wanted to hear.

"Oh, I'm fallin' hard for you, you little bitch.."

Ted leans down to catch my lips in another deep, passionate kiss, using his free hand to begin working at the button and zipper of his shorts. I groan impatiently in the deep kiss, kissing him back with my own hands going down to his shorts to help him pull them down, helping him slip his boxers briefs down as well. Once he's fully exposed, I feel his right hand move up to smack onto his back window while the other let's go of my throat to align himself with my entrance, wasting no more time as he pushes deep into me. By now, he feels perfect slipping into me, every single god damn time. Something is missing if his cock isn't nestled inside of me. I'm shaped for him and him only and he knows it. He better know it.

He moves his hand up to press against the back door behind my head, bucking his hips up as roughly as he can against me. I can already feel how much he's been aching for me, his throbbing shaft massaging my inner walls warmly. Pleasure begins to surge throughout my entire body with every smack of his hips, a loud, needy moan slipping out of me everytime our skin connects. I lean my head back and let him hear the desperation in my sweet moans, smirking a little to myself when I can feel the truck rocking with his thrusts.

"Oh. God. Every. Time. Every. Single. Fucking. Time.." Ted growls, a single word leaving him with every thrust of his hips. "So. Fucking. Good. So tight, so--wet--FFFFUCK." He nuzzles his face into my neck, putting more force in with every single buck while his lips once again find my neck. His pelvis rubs up against me everytime our hips meet, I'm already getting lost in the pleasure he's rushing through my body, feeling his heavy pants against my skin.

"Oh god, Teddy! Teddy it's good!" I whimper for him, wrapping my arms around him to cling to him as best as I can, gripping onto his shirt to keep him close. "It's good, it's good! It's so good! So good!"

"I know, baby, I know--ugh, I'm gonna--" Ted growls into my ear, his hand moving from the window to slightly change the angle of our bodies, making my head nestle more into the corner of the backseat. "--gonna tilt this whole truck over fucking you like that, hold on.--" He puts us at a more diagonal angle with one knee on the seat with his other on the floorboard to keep himself steady, pulling my hips in closer. "There. Better..."

This new position gave him the room that he needed, able to tug me in with his rough thrusts over and over and over. The truck was definitely still rocking back and forth with us, arguably a lot more with how much harder he was fucking me, but neither of us cared now.

Ted quieted his own low moans and growls so he could focus on my own needy sounding voice, my head completely leaned back as I whimpered and whined for more, unable to form a coherent word or sentence that didn't include 'It's' 'so' and 'good'. It was all I could say, all I could feel. It was so good. It was so fucking good, everytime with this man is so fucking good. The intensity of it all was becoming too much. Here I am, in the backseat of his truck, getting railed like there's no tomorrow and no one has any idea where we've gone or what we're doing. It's exciting, it's exhilarating and I want to do more of it with him. I want to do everything with him.

"Ted! Teddy! I'm--It's--I-I'm cumming!" I cry out for him, finally able to get some words out when I begin to hit my peak a second time. I can feel his length throbbing inside of my tightened walls, my release building up more and more until it was nearly about to burst. Ted moved in to press his body down against me and latched onto my neck once again, panting and moaning sweetly into my neck as he bucked his hips against me like a needy animal reacting to heat. His pelvis continued to rub against my sensitive bud while the tip of his length massaged me from the inside and I'm able to release for a second time, crying out because of him; crying out for him. I can't control my volume even if I tried. I close my eyes just as I feel his hot seed push into my core, hearing his hand smack his back window as his body lightly convulsing against me, comfortably emptying into me. All of the pleasure centers around my aching core and rushes up my entire body and rumbles into my head, leaving me with a satisfying, light-headed haze, even as he gently pulls out of me.

X

Just as this pleasant high begins to fade, I feel Ted pull back from my neck with a weak moan, relaxing against my body to catch his breath, the truck's rocking still persisting ever so slightly. I lightly wrap my arms around him, one of my hands moving up to run my fingers through his tall dark hair. A part of my neck feels warm and damp and it's a little difficult to catch my breath with most of Ted's weight on me, but I'm completely satisfied. Maybe I'll keep this little adventure with Ted to ourselves. Joe doesn't need to know everything.

"You're incredible..." Ted whispers into my chest, letting out a shaky chuckle as he lifts himself off of me a bit, his dark orbs sparkling down at me. "You're fucking incredible, you're...everything.."

I meet his gaze with my own weak little chuckle, lightly biting the corner of my lower lip. I can feel the high of sex with Ted mixing with my infatuation for Ted. "E-Everything?..." I manage to repeat after a deep breath, giving him a little smile. "I'm...I'm everything except properly clothed, Theo.."

"Oh yeah, right...right..." Ted replies with another breathless laugh, glancing down at my bare legs. Fuck. This motherfucker really ripped my god damn underwear. "I...did that."

"I can't believe you did that.." I lean my head back for a moment and shake my head, my smile spreading into a satisfied grin. "You son of a bitch.."

"Hey, I did warn you. I tried to warn you." Ted insisted with a playful grin, shifting a bit to give me more room to move. "I just--ooh...uh...uh oh..."

"Uh oh?" I lift my head to look at him with my eyebrows slightly furrowed. "What uh oh?"

Ted, once again, doesn't answer me right away. He's looking down at me, but he's not looking at my face. What's he looking at? My chest? My chin? My neck?

Ted brings his hand to my chin to lift my head slightly, squinting his eyes and leaning in a bit, like he's focusing on something. I'm starting to get a little anxious. "What? What do you see?" I ask again with a frown, clearly getting more nervous by the second.

"Uhh..." Ted let's out his own nervous little chuckle.

"I...think that's a hickey..."

...Fuck.

"...A big one.."

Oh fuck.

__________________________________

*All Chapters, uploaded and not, will now be listed and linked at the bottom here ♡

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 (smut) || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 (smut) || Chapter 11 || Chapter 12 || Chapter 13 || Chapter 14 (smut) || Chapter 15 || Chapter 16 || Chapter 17 || Chapter 18 (smut) (here) || Chapter 19 || Chapter 20 || Chapter 21 || Chapter 22 || Chapter 23 || Chapter 24 || Chapter 25 (final) ||

[soulfullives]

Prompt if you want to do:

Sirius first tattoo, who will accompany him? Will go to a wiz artist or muggle?

Up to you dear

"Hey, mate." The bloke who was standing in front of him had bleached blonde hair and tanned skin. He wore ripped jeans, a loose shirt and a tie loosely hung around his neck. "Sit."

Sirius obliged, stretching his neck as he did. "Do I know you?"

The man looked at him for a few moments, then realisation seemed to dawn upon him. "Hell, yeah. Benjy Fenwick. You're that Black kid, aren't you? You were friends with that little rascal, Potter, weren't you?"

Sirius snorted. "Still am. You used to be in Ravenclaw."

"And the bloody Team Captain, while we're on it. Can't believe what a good player that kid was. Still on the team, then?" He asked, indicating Sirius to strip. Sirius pulled his shirt over his head. "What're we doing?"

"He's the Captain now," Sirius replied, rolling his shoulders and humming at the pleasant feeling. "I was thinking antlers, right under my neck."

"You know, usually, you come and check in for a design and, you know, usually, you don't get tattooed in a dingy shop on Knockturn Alley."

"I'd rather not have snuck out of my house in the middle of the night and taken the tube to here just for you to send me back home, thanks."

"It's better when you don't know what's coming, trust me. Speaking from experience. So, how old are you now?" He asked, working his way across Sirius' back.

"Turned sixteen about a month ago."

"How time has passed," Benjy said, clicking his tongue. "How's Hogwarts now that my mates and Thave graduated?"

"Essentially the same."

"You're so chatty," He tsked. He searched through his pocket, then gently grabbed a hold of Sirius hair. "If you want me to tattoo on your back, I'll have to put your hair up."

With a nod, Benjy rolled his hair into a loose knot, fingers brushing against Sirius’s neck as he secured it. He shivered slightly, but not from the chill in the shop—more from the unfamiliar sensation of someone else handling him so gently.

“Right, antlers, you said?” Benjy murmured, reaching for a thin stick of charcoal to sketch out the design first.

“Yeah, like…you know, a stag.”

“Is this some sort of inside joke?” He asked, (“Pretty much.”) as worked quickly, his fingers steady as he sketched the outline just below the nape of Sirius’s neck. The charcoal smudged slightly as he worked, tracing bold, branching antlers. Sirius shifted, wanting to take a glance, but Benjy steadied him.

“Hold still.”

“You’re quite pretentious for someone who works down Knockturn.”

Benjy snorted. “You’d be surprised how much easier it is to mess this up when someone’s moving. Besides, you’re lucky I’m even doing this tonight. This is not exactly where you want to get permanent ink, you know.”

“Well, not a lot of places are opened at this time of day, right?”

“What can I say, three in the morning’s not very popular.”

The sound of the needle starting up was louder, sharper, making his skin prickle.

“You sure about this?” Benjy asked one last time, the needle hovering just above his skin.

“Yeah. Do it.”

The needle piercing his skin brought, as a first reaction, a sucked in breath. He could feel Benjy’s hand pressing lightly against his back, steadying him as he worked, the hum of the needle filling the space that would have, otherwise, been quiet.

“You’re doing well. Breathe through it.”

Sirius closed his eyes, focusing on the grounding pressure of Benjy’s hand against him, the lines taking shape on his skin, although he could not see them just yet—something raw and real and entirely his. Something he’d chosen.

When Benjy finally shut off the needle and leaned back, looking pleased with himself. Sirius exhaled, rolling his shoulders. His skin felt raw, but there was a sense of satisfaction beneath it.

Benjy wiped down the tattoo. “Go on, take a look,” He said, his voice soft.

Sirius turned to the mirror. The antlers spread from the base of his neck, the black ink contrasting against his pale skin—slightly red and swollen, but perfect. The lines were sharp, the branching of the antlers carefully crafted, almost wild in the way they curved outward.

This was his. Chosen. A symbol of loyalty, of brotherhood. Of defiance.

“D’you like it?”

“Yeah,” Sirius answered, his voice a hum. “I do.”

“No regrets?”

“Not one. Thank you.”

“‘S what I do. Leave me a good review to your friends,” Benjy winked. “Right, so, aftercare. No soaking it in water for a few days. Keep it clean, no scratching, although it might itch. Might scab a bit—means it’s healing. And don’t let your mates hex you until it’s sorted, yeah?”

“I’m not the one getting hexed,” Sirius chuckled, shrugging on his shirt, the sensation of the fabric rubbing against the raw skin unusual. “Thanks, mate.”

“Nothing to thank me for.”

As he met Benjy’s eyes in the mirror one last time, Sirius had the feeling that, in a sense, this moment had marked more than just his skin.

[moritashie]

I present to you; Tony wearing a suit just so that he can allow Peter ride piggyback.

[minban]

Happy Birthday, Lighter | Drinking Alone Under the Moon

"A cheap party hat, tacky ribbons, and a cake with unevenly spread frosting." / "I can't help but laugh whenever I think about that year's birthday party" / "You guys really should come and taste what the most amazing birthday special in the Outer Ring is like." / "My old pals..."

[chuluoyi]

✎ all of me

- gojo satoru x reader

you understand that some things in marriage just needs compromise. and he soon understands too, when you're at your most vulnerable and he fails to be by your side when you need him the most

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship (you're married & have a son!) argument, feral gojo, mentions of injury & blood, fluff

note: if it isn't obvious by now i'm in the mood of angst-hurt/comfort this week HEHE :)) this is longer than the usual love entry, so i hope you'll enjoy it!

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

Bantering with your husband is not uncommon―in fact, it happens on daily basis.

"Satoru― I'm talking to you!"

But having serious arguments with him is another matter entirely.

Your fists tightening at your sides, facing his unamused expression. How insufferable is he? You told him that everyday, but right now, he's truly surpassed previous levels of infuriating behavior.

"And I can hear you, sweetheart," he retorted, casting a glance your way. The term of endearment he used for you sounding almost like a sneer to your ears and you felt offended.

"I don't think you're taking this seriously," you griped, trying to calm your emotions, still balling your hands. "Someone is following our son on his way back from school―how can you be this... flippant?!"

Numerous photograph of your son exiting the school building from different angles had arrived in your mailbox, and if it wasn't a creepy warning from those who placed a target on his back, then you didn't know what it was.

Satoru let out an exasperated grunt. "I'm telling you, I'll pick him up for the rest of the week. No one will lay a hand on him."

You gritted your teeth. "And I'm telling you, they're trying to make you do just that. Even morons know not to mess with you― they're leaving hints, and you're taking the bait!"

Contrary to what you believed, Satoru felt just as worried as you upon knowing that someone might have marked his precious son, who was now six years old and had recently started attending preschool.

But this is where your approaches differ. You are always the cautious one, overanalyzing each detail, while he leans towards being impulsive, often resorting to brute force.

"Who do you think can stand a chance against me?" Satoru challenged with a real sneer this time. "Remember my words, wife, no one is going to hurt me, you or our baby. I'll end them where they stand."

"That's not the point!" you threw your hands in the air, irate. "Satoru, they're going to take advantage of―"

"Look, I don't want to argue with you." Satoru's gaze was hard on you, his tone clipped, and it made you stiffen. "His safety comes first— and you, of all people, should know I'd never let anything happen to him. You need to quit nitpicking and have a little faith in me."

"I know you are more than capable, but you are not―!"

And then he said it, and his words piercing through you like a knife―

"Don't compare me to you," your husband remarked a little too coldly. "I can do things you can't. Just rest your pretty head, I'll take care of the rest."

Nevermind that he blatantly dismissed your skills as a jujutsu sorcerer, nevermind that he totally didn't listen to you at all―he just went and made himself look like some sort unparalleled god, forgetting how much his hubris could actually take him.

And all these thoughts only made you angrier.

"So be it then." You tried desperately to hold yourself from shaking because you'd be damned if you showed it to him. "A word of advice, Satoru: beware of your arrogance."

With those words, you spun around, marching off toward your son's room, because no way in hell was you going to sleep with that obnoxious prick tonight.

But when you caught the sight of your baby scuttling away from the gap in the door, a fragment of your heart crumbled. Oh. He has seen it all.

In Gojo Satoru's mind, he is made of two things: a powerful jujutsu sorcerer and a family man.

With his immense strength, comes a certain responsibility. And with that responsibility, certain habits have formed. If you just took a few seconds to breathe and looked back throughout the past decade he'd spent with you, you'd know that in fact―

It was also his way to shield you. Satoru stands by the principle that you and his little boy must be protected at all cost, and he most certainly would pull all stops to do just that.

But frankly, he couldn't deny that he felt insulted by how defiant you were. Did you really think he would let anyone ever touch your―his―son? He wouldn't, they'd meet his wrath first and you should've known that.

Still, something akin to guilt nudged at his conscience as he lay alone in your shared bed that night. It felt strange not having you cuddling him. He felt empty.

. . .

None of your shampoo-scented pillow, none of your nightdresses, all of it replaced by a single photo hanging in the wall and the urn of ashes—

Abruptly, he jerked his eyes open, shaken from the most dreadful nightmare he had experienced—

Of you no longer by his side.

“Mama.” Your little boy looked up to you with his doe-blue eyes in the next day, his hand gripping yours. “I’ll be fine.”

You were accompanying him to the preschool. While Satoru had requested Ichiji to drive him, you insisted on tagging along to keep a watchful eye as well. You'd leave your husband to pick him up later just as he wanted.

“Huh?” you turned to him, tilting your head.

“I'll stick by Uncle Ichiji's side the entire time,” he replied in a murmur. “And papa will be picking me up too later. If there are bad guys, they'll get him first.”

You bit your lip, feeling a wave of guilt wash over you. Your boy witnessed your outburst last night and hadn't inquired about it until now, and even then, he was trying to reassure you.

“So… don’t fight.” His round, cerulean eyes then darted towards you, blinking hesitantly, causing you to catch your breath.

He looks so much like Satoru. At six years old, he was the spitting image of him, except his personality—he took after you in that area. It was as if your son was a softer, more innocent version of him. And your heart twisted, remembering your argument last night.

Don't compare me to you.

With a sigh, you bent down to be eye-level with him and managed a smile, holding both of his little hands. “I’m sorry… it was just misunderstanding last night, okay? Don’t worry.”

“…really?”

“Really. Mama and papa were just tired,” you tried to reason, a thin smile on your face. "It's going to be okay, just like you said, yeah? Papa will beat the bad guys out there."

“Will he pull through...? If they bring a knife, and he's just there laughing, they can cut him.”

A giggle escaped your lips at your baby's innocent wonderings, easing the ache in your heart as you recalled how Satoru humored him in so many ways.

You gently poked your son in the cheek. "Nah, do you remember what he always goes on about?"

He puffed up his cheeks in response, his expression turning sour as if combing through memories of hundreds of shenanigans Satoru had instigated to recall his words. You let out a hearty chuckle, finding him so adorable.

"He's strong, he's going to win. He always does."

"Oh. Mmm." Your son scrunched up his nose cutely, before looking away and squeezing your hand. A sincerer smile bloomed in your lips, heart melting at the sight of your growing munchkin.

You will protect him. And maybe you could patch things up with Satoru later that night. Maybe yesterday you were just too paranoid.

That was the plan... at least until your son suddenly screamed—someone wrenching him from your grasp. Without a second thought, you reacted, flipping the attacker away from you and him.

. . . and that was the beginning of how everything started to unravel so terribly that day.

"Gojo-san...! There's been an incident!"

He got that call right after he finished some things with Yaga. Satoru teleported to the preschool right away, only to be greeted by a scene of utter chaos.

Several teachers stood outside the building, and police officers were present at the scene. It was all a blur of cursed energy until his eyes caught sight of—

His little boy, red-faced and obviously in fear, was clinging to Ichiji, who was frantically making calls. Some teachers gathered around him were seemingly trying to coax him to speak.

He didn't waste a second to dash towards him, tearing through the crowd.

"Are you okay? Hey, buddy, what happened?" Satoru pulled him away from Ichiji and turned him over, crouching to his level to check for any signs of injury or harm.

And upon seeing him actually here, his son's eyes immediately welled up with tears, and Satoru felt a chill run through his veins as he broke into sobs, which quickly turned into heart-wrenching wails.

"Mama—! F-find mama—!" the little boy choked out through his tears, clutching onto his shirt tightly and crumbling in his embrace, thoroughly inconsolable.

Satoru's sharp gaze quickly swept over the scene, seeking any clues, while he tightened his hold over him. It was then he noticed traces of your cursed energy mingled with blood.

They hurt you.

"Hey, kiddo—listen to me, it's going to be alright, yeah?" Satoru said, gently pulling away to wipe away his tears, holding the boy's face tenderly in his hands. "Go with Ichiji for now, okay? I'm going to bring mama back, I promise."

He didn't need to be told twice. Your son is always obedient when it matters the most. He gave him a small nod, still shaking with tears.

"Don't worry," he flashed a reassuring smile and ruffled his hair. "I'm the strongest, remember? I'll get her back," he vowed once again. "She'll be fine. Wait for me until then, yeah?"

Ichiji was ready to leave as he had called for those in headquarters as backup in case anything were to happen again. Trusting him to keep his son safe, Satoru took off as soon as he could no longer see the sight of his son's tear-streaked face trying to watch him as the car pulled away.

"I won't repeat myself— where is my wife?"

Satoru wasn't playing this time. He skipped past taunts and just plain threats. These little fries, he thought.

The man he held by the throat was in a lot of distress. "Hyaaa! It's him! Please, please, let me go! I'm acting under orders!"

He then flung him across the wall— might have added more cursed energy than necessary.

At the moment, his entire focus was on trying to locate you. He couldn't let his mind wander to anything else; in fact, he didn't permit himself to.

It didn't take him long to piece together the general location of where you were through the residual of your cursed energy. They stationed several hooligans in this abandoned warehouse to stall him, but he got rid of them quickly and he could sense that you were close by.

"It's Gojo Satoru!"

"Run! Ruuuun!"

What a pain. They picked the wrong person to mess with, and Satoru's lips curled into a manic grin as he opened his palm, pulling them in—

"Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue."

Chaos erupted as the building collapsed around him. He hoped you would realize he was here and manage to avoid getting caught in the wreckage. He was sure you'd know though.

And true to his thoughts, soon he found you— blasting your attacker away with a powerful kick.

Satoru thought that you were a sight to behold, really. And he was about to call out to you when he felt it.

It happened almost in an instant. The way his heart dropped to his stomach, and how his body reacted, barely whispering the incantation for Red as he shot it at something lurking behind you—

At that moment, the only thing you were aware of was the foul stench of a curse. Time seemed to stop before the overwhelming force of Red expelled it away from you.

But before then, you experienced a searing, white-hot pain that scorched through your flesh and pierced your abdomen—

"Y/N―fuck―!" The voice that came from Satoru's throat was raw and laden with panic.

He pulled you against him protectively as you collapsed, blinded by pain. He immediately felt warmth spreading across his lower body—your blood was rapidly drenching his shirt, and he felt a shiver down his spine.

You held onto him tightly while suppressing your scream, feeling every bit of your strength drain away along with the dark crimson blood that poured out of you.

"―toru―" you managed to croak amidst the scalding pain, curling and whimpering in his hold.

"Hey― sweetheart, please―" his voice rang in your ears, as he pressed down on your wound. His hands were shaking, and you clawed at him and groaned in agony. "I-I'm taking you back now― You're going to be alright, yeah?"

The wound was beyond anything you had experienced before, causing you to cry out and gasp for air. It was almost as if something fried your insides. It was hard to stay conscious.

"I've got you now. You're going to be okay." His voice was coarse, as he hurriedly carried you out. And he tried not to let the full-blown panic take over him when your body went limp in his arms, your breaths slowing, head lolling in his chest.

"You're going to be alright! You hear me, sweetheart? You're going to make it. Our baby― he's waiting for you. I promise you, you're going to be fine―"

Perhaps he was trying to tell that to himself, because despite the excruciating pain, a wave of reassurance washed over you.

You were in the arms of the strongest sorcerer alive, what more could you possibly afraid of?

A special grade curse. They had actually unleashed a potent curse and likely aimed at him as their final card—until it veered off course and struck you, leaving a searing gash across your abdomen.

Satoru felt numb as he sat in the waiting room in his bloodied uniform. You got hurt so terribly right in front of his eyes, and all he could feel was this profound void that seemed to bore through him and pierced his soul.

He was supposed to protect you. He said it to your face that nothing and no one would touch your son, and it was in his wedding vows that he'd protect you with his life too.

And yet what happened?

If only he was faster. If only he was able to pull you to him and protect you with his infinity—none of this shit would have happened.

Seeing your face twisted in agony and smeared with blood made him feel sick to his stomach. Inside that OR, you hovered on the brink of life and death, and he was here, unable to do anything.

Satoru rested his head against the wall, feeling a sharp pain surge through his chest. He remembered waking up to your face every morning, the way your touches felt, and how you had brightened his world for the past decade. If he lost you now... he wouldn't survive it. He would wreck anything, everything—

"Papa!" and came his voice of reason. Satoru immediately discarded his bloodstained jacket by instinct, throwing it away before his boy could see it, with Ichiji and Megumi closely trailing behind.

His son crashed himself into him and threw his little arms around his torso, crying—and in that very second, the thump of his heart sounded louder in his ears. Somehow it felt like a knife that twisted his insides.

"Hey, kiddo." Satoru repositioned him so that he would sit on his lap and hugged him, patting him in the back. "There, there... it's alright, yeah? Mama is inside, she'll get better soon."

Your little boy pulled away and wiped his eyes, and Satoru chuckled as he helped him blow his nose. His child was incredibly adorable, and his actions mirrored yours to such an extent that it made Satoru's heart soften.

"Mama g-got hurt trying to... tell me to g-go..." the boy suddenly said amidst his quieter sniffles. "And... she s-said... papa— i-is strong and g-going to win..."

You believe in him. Ignoring the ache in his chest, only able to reply him with a "Yeah..."

Not long after, Shoko emerged from the operating room and informed him that the surgery had been successful, though you would likely need to have a one-week stay in the hospital for observation. He intended to move you to the VIP suite and stay the night there, but then he remembered his son, who was holding his hand.

Satoru crouched down and patted him in the head, fixing him a smile. "See? Mama is okay, but she needs to sleep here to get even better. Now you go home first with big brother Megumi, yeah?"

Your son adored Megumi and often begged you to let him stay over at his place, but this time he looked hesitant, fiddling with his little fingers. "Really? Mama will be home... soon?"

"Mm-hmm, the more she sleeps here, the faster she'll go back home, alright?"

And with that, his baby nodded and Satoru turned to Megumi with a nod. "Thank you for this, Megumi."

The boy whose life he had once saved on some sort of a whim, now grown up and shared the same concern he had for you, Fushiguro Megumi had never before witnessed his benefactor expressing such sincere gratitude for anything before.

When you came to, your body felt as heavy as lead.

The discomfort in your abdomen made you flinch, and you almost let out a groan until you turned to your side and saw him.

Satoru was asleep while sitting in the sofa next to your bed, dark circles evident under his eyes. It might have been your imagination, but his cheeks appeared to be slightly red too.

You tried to recall what had happened to you when it came back—you urging your son to run away as you let yourself being taken away, almost escaping from that warehouse, the flash of excruciating pain, and Satoru's stricken voice.

So he must've been here since last night. Any remnants of your disagreement seemed to have vanished, seeing him there with you, barely covering himself with the blanket, with a frown still marking his forehead even in his sleep.

You wanted to reach out to him until the movement sent a sharp jab to your stomach and you cried out a bit.

In that split second, Satoru's eyes jerked open, and realizing you were awake, his gaze locked onto yours. "Y/N—" But your strained whimper and expression told him everything. "Does it hurt? I-I'll get Shoko, wait—"

And then he hit the call button. Throughout it all, he kept a firm grip on your hand for reassurance. A few minutes later, Shoko arrived and examined your wound, subsequently administering painkillers to alleviate your discomfort.

"It's going to leave a scar," she explained grimly, showing the mangled skin where the curse had made its mark on you, and seeing that, Satoru clenched his fists.

Shoko sighed, empathizing with her friend's frustration. "It's going to fade with time, don't worry. You did well, Gojo. You brought her here quickly. Had you been even slightly later, there could have been an irreversible damage to her organs."

But your husband remained quiet, unable to bring himself to look at you. And after she left, you tried to finally voice your question to him.

"O-our—"

"He's fine," Satoru immediately answered, squeezing your hand. "Our boy is fine. I'll tell Megumi to visit later—he's with him."

A sigh of relief came out of you. "Thank... goodness."

But his expression seemed to fall even further after hearing your response. Satoru settled himself on the seat next to you and lowered the rail on your bed, allowing you to be even closer to each other.

"Do you not feel any pain anymore?" he asked then, gently tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. He looked so sad, a stark contrast of how he usually was, and it bugged you.

"No... I feel fine now."

"Then, can I hug you?"

Of course you nodded without a second thought, and carefully, he wrapped his arms around your body, pulling you close and resting his face on the crook of your neck.

You knew what it was. Satoru was still visibly shaken by what had happened to you, and he wasn't great at expressing himself, so he tried to find consolation through this physical closeness instead.

"I'm okay..." you patted his back, trying to convince him. "I'm alright now, yeah?" But to your surprise, suddenly his whole body started to shake. "Satoru...?"

“…’m sorry.” His voice was barely above a whisper as he nuzzled you. “I shouldn't... have let you get this hurt...”

It always amazes you how Satoru always gets this distressed whenever you sustain any injury. You had seen him cry precisely two times now—once after you gave birth to your son and experienced severe bleeding, and now.

"It's not your fault..." you whispered in response. "You... have protected me well."

He held you tighter, his tone faltering. "I didn't."

"You have..." you stroked his hair, trying to convince him. "I'm still here, aren't I?"

Hearing you say that made Satoru's chest ache. The thought of something like this happening to you was unimaginable, and now that it had, he couldn't come to terms with seeing you hurt right in front of him.

"Don't—" he choked on his voice, his breath trembled against your neck. "Don't ever put yourself in danger again. If something happened to you, I wouldn't be able to live with myself..."

You couldn't make that promise. Despite the pleading in his voice, you knew deep down that your son's life—and his—meant more, and given the chance, you would obviously save theirs for yours.

“Satoru... I love you, you know that, right?”

So you simply embraced him close, hoping that in this life, you would live long enough that he would never have to see you like this again.

Epilogue

"Papa, how do I become stronger?"

Satoru blinked when his son asked him that so innocently and curiously, taken aback as he led him to your private room later that afternoon. "Oh? What brought this on?"

His first and only son, a perfect miniature of himself, pursed his lips. "I don't want Mama to get hurt again..."

Satoru's heart warmed at his baby’s sincere words, and despite himself, he chuckled.

"What's funny?" his son leveled a glare at him. "I'm being serious."

"Well, aren't you such a good boy? Don't worry, kiddo, I'll teach you my ways~"

"What ways?"

"Well, no need to rush, pumpkin. First of all, you will have to harness your skills and then you have to be more like me—"

"Do I have to be like you…? Is there no other way?"

"—? What's wrong with being more like me?"

"Everything...?"

[sttoru]

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. dad!toji x wife!reader. fluff, just pure fluff. reader gets called ‘doll’ once.

toji sits on the edge of megumi’s bed, arms casually draped over his knees, watching with an amused grin as you fuss over your son. you’re lecturing him about being more careful when playing with the other kids at daycare, replacing the bandages on his arms that had gotten scuffed from a tumble.

megumi sulks, his little face scrunched up, but he doesn’t dare to say a word. his gaze is cast downward and he knows better than to challenge you when you’re in your ‘mom’ mode.

toji chuckles to himself. the little brat—just like his old man, he thinks. neither of them ever have the guts to talk back when you’re laying down the law.

with a lazy smirk, toji reaches over and ruffles megumi’s hair in an affectionate and teasing way. “it's fine, doll,” he says in attempt to reassure you, “shit happens. ‘n it toughens up the kid.”

you shoot him a look over your shoulder and toji just shrugs. “he’s just like you, ya know,” you mutter as you brush a stray lock of hair from megumi's face. indeed, the little boy resembles his father in looks but also in personality. “stubborn, hard-headed. thinks he can take on the world without a scratch,” you sigh.

on one hand, you’re worried that megumi will get in real trouble one day because of it. but on the other hand, your son got an overprotective man as father. you know he will never let any harm befall either of you.

toji raises an eyebrow at your comment. oh, he knows and he’s proud of it. proud of his son, of the family he's created with you. “i mean—he needs to learn to take a few hits if he's gonna survive this world.”

you scoff before hugging megumi one last time. “mm, mama,” the toddler snuggles up to you, small hands clutching your shirt tightly. you feel the weight of his tiny form press against you while his cheek rests against your chest.

there’s something about the clingy way he holds you that melts something deep inside you. you press a gentle kiss to his messy hair, brushing a hand down his back as you breathe in the sweet, comforting scent of his shampoo.

“good night, sweets,” you murur, your voice barely above a whisper. “i love you.”

megumi’s small fingers tighten once more on your shirt as if reluctant to let go. his breathing is steady and you know he’s almost asleep. but then, your son shifts lightly. he pulls back from the hug enough to look up at toji, who’s leaning back against the headboard of the bed. he doesn't say a word, but there’s a clear look of expectation on his face, as though he's waiting for something only his dad can give.

toji meets his gaze with a blank expression that doesn’t give away a thing. he's clueless for a good couple seconds before picking up on what megumi wants.

your husband murmurs something incoherent before relenting. “yeah yeah, c'mere buddy,” he hums, his tone softening. he can't help it—even if he tries not to show the vulnerability in his demeanour.

“yay,” megumi's face brightens up a little and he eagerly reaches up with those tiny hands. toji pulls the kid into his arms, hugging him tighter than expected. the action is a little awkward, but there's no denying the warmth in it.

your heart melts as you witness the adorable scene before you. your son doesn’t seem to mind the tightness as his small arms encircle his father’s neck. it’s a simple moment between father and son, but it’s enough. enough for both of them.

toji pulls back after a little while. his eyes are softer than usual as he pinches megumi's button nose. “good night, kiddo,” he mutters, the words rough but warm, “don't let the bedbugs bite.”

megumi grins sleepily at him as he rubs his eyes. “i’ll kick their ass, papa,” he declares proudly, looking and acting more like his dad with the second. you roll your eyes and stand up from the bed. toji simply snorts, realising his son has picked up on the phrases he uses.

“tha’s right,” your husband nods after standing next to you, “you tell ‘em bedbugs to eat shi—”

“toji ,” you shush him with a swat to the bicep.

megumi lets out a small giggle in reply before laying back on his pillows. you pull the covers up to his chin and watch as his eyes slowly close, his body beginning to relax. the quiet rhythm of his breathing is the only sign of him settling down for the night.

toji lingers by the door and is simply content to watch you. you're always like this—so nurturing. he follows your every move as you leave a final kiss to your son’s cheek. the warmth that radiates in your presence, your affection, the simple yet tender moments are all things that make him fall in love with you over and over again.

you straighten up and turn towards toji, catching him staring. you can see the warmth in his eyes, the way his shoulders are completely relaxed, how that signature smirk of his seems more like a smile in that moment.

you chuckle to yourself before stepping out into the hallway, leaving the door slightly ajar. toji follows with his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. the silence hangs between you two for a bit. it’s comforting and. . . secure.

“y’know, you’re a real softie, toji,” you comment to break the quiet atmosphere. you tilt your head back to look at the dark-haired man who’s now next to you. you know he still struggles with being vulnerable around your son. the sentimentality is still an aspect he's working on.

however, you see it; the emotional side of him. the warmth in his eyes, in his touch, in his words - even if he’s not all that soft spoken.

you can see right through him.

“don't worry though. your secret's safe with me,” you tease with a soft grin.

toji doesn’t say a word for a few seconds before he chuckles under his breath, “just keep that between us, aye?” he responds to your teasing. he’s just glad that he’s married a woman who understands him and accepts him as is.

you both head to the living room. the weight of your day finally seems to lift. the quiet house and the soft breaths of megumi drifting from his room, feels like the calm after a storm. there are challenges ahead, no doubt, but for now everything is alright.

toji wraps his muscular arm around your shoulders as you both sink into the couch. the television playing something in the background, but neither of you pay it much attention. you lean against him and sigh, eyes closing slowly.

“you think he's gonna… turn out okay?” you ask softly. you’re not really sure how to word your worries. your voice holds an uncertainity that causes toji to hold you tighter.

your husband doesn't answer right away. instead, he glances down at you and strokes your hair with his free hand. he nods and presses a chaste kiss to your forehead.

toji leans his head back afterwards, closing his own eyes. no matter what the future holds, he's sure megumi will grow up to be a strong young man.

“yeah. that kid’s gonna be alright.”

[lxvvie]

Simon Riley is a frustrated man.

And you're the cause of it.

This... thing simmering between you two, he can't place it. Can't put a name on it, and when surety, something that took years to fine-tune, flies out the window, frustration rears its ugly fuckin' mug.

The last time Simon felt this way, he'd just enlisted. He sure as hell can't drink or fuck the feeling away—he's tried—and it pisses him off even more because all he can do is sit and feel his frustration. And stare. At you.

Fuck.

You don't stare back. At least, you don't stare back when he wants you to. He feels your eyes burning holes in his back, though. He knows you feel the same way; he can see it when he does manage to catch your gaze. You're close but never close enough. You're here, there, everywhere with him, even when you're not, and he wants to reach out and touch. Simon wants to touch you, wants to hold and handle you with care just like the military taught him how to handle his gun (bloody hell, what the actual fuck, Riley?)

He wants to touch and hold and handle you with care and he wonders how your lips would feel against his scars and fuck fUCK FUCK.

Fuck it. If you won't come to him, he'll come to you.

And when he gets the chance, he corners you. Simon feels the heat between your bodies, and you're pressing yourself against him whether you realize it. But you still won't look at him. Bloody fuckin'—

"Look at me, sweetheart," he grunts out. Not a suggestion, an order. After a beat, you do. And Simon holds your stare. He holds your stare, looks for confirmation, and when he finds it, that's when you strike.

You strike and press your lips against the corner of his mouth, against an old scar, and Simon's a fucking puddle of goo because it's everything he thought it would be and more. He leans against you, cognizant of his body weight, but it doesn't fuckin' matter, not with the way you've welcomed him with open arms.

Simon still can't put a name to the feeling. Not yet. Frustrated with you, consumed by you, fuck if he knows.

He reasons you two have all the time in the world now to figure it out. Together.

[tojigasm]

Thinking about older!Logan and how he'd definitely clock the crush you have on him as soon as you meet him.

It's amusing to him, and unfortunately for you, Logan wasn't born yesterday and he absolutely catches your long stares when you think he's not looking or the way you avert your eyes from his whenever speaking to you.

He thinks it's cute and a little stupid on your behalf – a twenty year old something kid crushing on some fifty year old man old enough to be your father.

But it's when the two of your eyes meet from across the room that he knows he's completely fucked because damn if you're not the prettiest thing he's seen in a good fifteen years or so and damn if he doesn't want to treat you the way he knows boys your age aren't

When he finally gets you alone, it escalates faster than either of you could've imagined.

"Shy little thing arent'cha?" He comments from his seat beside you, "Am I really that mean and scary?"

For a moment, you don't realize he's speaking to you until you look up to scan the room before meeting his eyes.

Logan seems to have followed your eyes, scanning each nook and crevice along with you.

"See any ghosts?"

Your eyes narrow slightly in annoyance.

"M'not shy."

Logan hums from his seat, leaning forward to pick up his cigar from the table. Settling back into his chair, he takes a long drag.

"Sure y'rnot." He replies with a smirk, smoke pooling from his lips as he exhales through his words.

You don't break eye contact with him this time, and he's got you right where he wants you.

"M'not." You repeat.

"Oh, I know you're not." Logans voice suddenly shifts to a lighter tone, laced with tease. The switch throws you off for a moment. "Don't think I haven't seen you, do you?"

And there's no need for him to elaborate. You've been caught in your school girl crush that, in reality, you know you won't get in trouble for but it's the fear of disappointing the older man that strikes a chord of anxiety through you.

You don't say anything to that, and the two of you only stare at one another before Logan's placing his cigar back down into the ashtray and motioning for you to come towards him.

You obey without question, partially in response to your training with him and partially wanting to show him how good you can be, how good you are – you have complete trust in him.

Logan seems to sense the slight of your unease, helping to lead you to straddle his lap as you sit down atop him.

His thighs spread out beneath you, helping to keep you balanced.

"That's better, huh?" He asks.

You nod, eyes drifting downwards to where your hands have begun to trace over the detailed lines of his leather suit.

There's quietness to the moment. One that seems as though it could last forever as Logan keeps a gentle hand on your thigh and the other on the arm of the chair, content on letting you distract yourself for the moment.

"Jesus," Logan comments, making you look up to meet his eyes again.

He cups a hand to your jaw, softly turning your head left and right to look you over.

"Can tell you right now," he cuts himself off with a hesitant inhale, the pads of his gloves running along your hips as he slides his hands up and down the shape of your waist to your thigh, "– When I was younger I would've been all over ya'."

Something about the image that draws your mind makes your core ache and your legs weak – imagining a younger version of the older man in the moment, the whitesh grey streaks in his hair bring you back to earth just as fast.

Logan holds your chin with two of his fingers, pad of his gloved thumb stroking your soft skin, and in the same moment, the two of you are kissing.

His lips are soft against your plush ones. His tongue is rough as he takes his time to run the wet muscle up the insides of your cheeks and around your own tongue.

You run your nails through the short of his hair, tangling your fingers in the thick of his tufts.

Logan groans into the kiss, shuffling down the seat to spread his thighs out further beneath you.

His hand comes up to cup your heat, and you gasp into the kiss before grinding your hips into his large palm.

Logan smiles into the kiss.

It only takes him a moment before the pad of his thumb is deftly pressed against your clit through the layers of your suit and you're pulling away from the kiss to moan.

Your brows furrow, and your hands drop from his hair to rest atop his shoulders, letting out soft moans and hums as his finger circles your bud.

"There we go." Logan kisses the curve of your jaw, pulling back to lean against the chair, watching as you relax into his hold.

"That feels good." You manage through a whimper, humming lightly as he shifts his movements to figure eights over your clit.

Logan gives a half chuckle, "I bet it does." His free hand holds you by your hip, keeping you still as you begin to rock into his hand.

"Right there, huh?" He asks, and you nod weakly, rolling your hips into his hand.

"M'close." You breathe.

Logan nods, "Tell Daddy where you want him."

You're quick to obey, dropping your hand from his shoulder to hold his wrist in place, letting out a choked sob when he runs his fingers over your sensitive folds through your suit.

There's not much warning besides a moan that gets caught half way up your throat as you cum.

Logan only continues to run his fingers over your cunt, stroking your folds before your pushing his hand away, swallowing soft gasps for air as you relax against him.

You can feel him kiss the top of your head, his hand stroking up and down the soft of your back while your fingers are tangled with the other.

"Y'okay?" He asks into your hair.

You nod.

[streetlamp-amber]

never ending night

bruce wayne x femwife!reader

word count: 1.7k | divider by @saradika | requests are open!

CW: pregnancy, pure fluff NOTES: hello hi i’m ailís and i’ve been meaning to start a blog where i can post some one shots that i’ve been thinking of as a way to motivate myself to finally write down my ideas so this is it. i’ll be double posting my stuff on ao3 (which you can find in my bio) and will eventually make a masterlist as well as a navigation post with a list of fandoms/characters i write for. also, english isn’t my first language.

It was close to three in the morning when Bruce finally joined you in bed after a long night of patrolling and fighting bottom of the barrel criminals all night. He showered in the bathroom on the first floor of the manor to avoid making too much noise and waking you up, but when he finally walked in your shared bedroom, you were already awake, sitting up against the headboard.

“Darling, what are you doing still up?” Bruce asked you as he reached his side of the bed.

The room was dark par for the moonlight filtering through the gap between the curtains, meaning your husband had yet to notice the state you were in.

“Dick had a nightmare,” you answered, voice barely above a whisper due to how tired you were. “It took me two hours to get him to fall back asleep and when I finally came back here, this little one started kickboxing me and keeping me awake for another hour,” you continued rubbing your round belly in hopes of soothing your baby to finally catch some sleep.

“I’m sorry I wasn't here to help,” Bruce apologised, planting a kiss on your temple as he held you close to his body.

“It’s alright, Gotham needs you,” you dismissed, not at all angry.

“Still, you’re six months pregnant. You’re growing our child inside your body, you need all the rest you can get,” he softly argued. “I would've come home earlier but all the amateur criminals came out tonight.”

“Bruce, it’s fine,” you brought your hand up to his cheek and he leaned his head into your touch. “You’ve already been cutting your patrols shorter since we found out about the baby. As long as you keep coming back home to us, alive, then I’m not mad.”

Not knowing what to say – his gratefulness for having someone so accepting of his duty as Batman was almost overwhelming, even after all those years – Bruce kissed your palm while staring at you with the same look full of love that he has been sporting since the first time he met you six years ago.

“How’d I get so lucky to fall in love with the most understanding and selfless person I know?” He asked while grabbing your hand on his cheek, wrapping his fingers around yours and squeezing them gently.

“Now that’s a lie,” you rebutted, a loving smile on your lips, lowering your joined hands on the bed. “You’re more selfless than I am. You’re the most selfless man in the world.”

“Let’s not start this never ending argument again,” Bruce chuckled, now his turn to hold your face as he brought you in for a kiss.

You happily sighed against his lips, the feeling of home that overtook you every time you tasted them was a nice welcome in this interminable night. But the kiss was cut short as you felt your baby kick again and you let your head fall back as you groaned.

“She’s still kicking?” Bruce asked you, he couldn't see the movements under your skin due to the darkness of the room and your hand on your belly.

“We don't know it's a she,” you reminded him instead of answering. You had both decided to wait until the birth to know the gender.

“And I’m telling you, I know it's a girl,” your husband repeated for what could be the hundredth time.

You also secretly hoped it was a girl, but Dick really wanted a little brother. Bruce and you were still in the process of warming him up to the idea of a little sister and it was slowly starting to work.

“As long as she doesn't come in my room,” your eight year old son had said last week, with his arms crossed over his chest and a pout on his lips.

“I doubt she’ll be doing that for the first few years, chum,” Bruce reassured him, fighting off a slightly amused grin.

“And the baby will have its own room with its own toys,” you added.

“Will I still be able to play with the baby?” Dick asked after a moment, uncrossing his arms and a hopeful look filling up his blue eyes.

“Of course you will, bubs,” you said, your fingers threading through his black hair that fell over his forehead.

“But only with her toys at first, some of yours are not suited for a baby,” Bruce pointed out, ever the overprotective father.

Bruce had lowered himself down under the blanket so he could be laying head levelled with your belly, his hand now replacing yours over the bump.

“Hey trouble,” he whispered to your child and the baby kicked again, making him smile lovingly at the movement he felt under his hand. “You shouldn't be awake this late at night, you know.��

“You're one to talk,” you commented, tone almost reprimanding.

“She doesn't know that,” Bruce looked up at you as he defended himself before his gaze fell back on your belly. “Mommy is really tired,” he continued talking to your baby, his hand now rubbing soothingly over your round stomach, “and she needs her rest to do all the work so you can come out all healthy and beautiful. Well, you're definitely gonna be the most beautiful baby if you end up looking like your mother, but that's not the point.”

You smiled at the cheesy comment and your fingers found their place in Bruce’s hair, brushing through it and nails occasionally scratching his scalp.

“Your brother Dick can't wait for you to come around,” he carried on. “Said he will teach you all sorts of acrobatic tricks once you know how to walk. And he asked Alfred if he could help paint the nursery when we finally decide on a colour.”

“And I keep telling you we should do soft green,” you argued.

“I’m not changing my mind from primrose pink,” he told you with a sly grin.

“The room won’t be pink, even if it’s a girl. And that’s final,” you firmly said. Your husband will not be winning this one argument, no sir.

Bruce sighed, rolling his eyes before focusing back on your belly. “I hope you’re not as stubborn as your mother,” he whispered to the baby, as if he was having a private conversation with them and that you weren’t there. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s one of the many reasons why I fell in love with her, but I won’t be able to say no to you even when I have to, so it would save me a lot of reprimanding from Mommy if you’re not as tenacious as her.”

You smiled to yourself as you continued listening to your husband talk to your unborn child as you threaded your fingers through his hair, enjoying the softness it had after a shower. Bruce usually gelled his hair to appear more professional when he was working in the day, and then it would get all mixed up with his sweat under his cowl when he was working as Batman. When he would come back to you after the day was over, you would refuse to touch his hair until he had showered, the texture of the gel and sweat too gross on your fingers for you to ignore.

As Bruce continued talking to your baby, his voice started lulling the two of you to sleep. The baby hadn’t kicked in over almost ten minutes now, and the peace you had waited for so long to arrive made you aware of how heavy your eyelids were. You slowly lowered yourself down the bed, getting in a comfortable position with Bruce’s help where you could finally lay your head on your pillow and it didn’t take long for sleep to catch up on you.

At the sound of your soft, barely audible snores, Bruce turned his head away from your bump to find you asleep with your free hand raised next to your head on your pillow, the other one still tangled in his hair.

He planted a soft kiss on the exposed skin of your belly, eyes closed as he took a moment to absorb the fact that a baby that was half you and half him would be joining your world in a little more than three months. Bruce wasn't known to cry, the only time you ever saw him cry was as you walked down the aisle at your wedding, but tonight, a lonesome tear rolled down his cheek and fell on your stomach, where your child was growing, because Bruce never believed he would ever get to experience again the amount of love he hadn't felt since he was eight years old.

As he observed you, sleeping soundly with his child coming to life inside you, after you comforted Dick back to sleep, Bruce, for a moment, felt overwhelmed by all the love in his life. When he became Batman, he crossed out the idea of ever having a family (other than Alfred), of settling down with someone he loved and who loved him back.

But somehow, the universe put you on his path, as a miracle or a guardian angel or simply as an anchor to life outside of Batman, he didn't know. You walked into his home, into his life, to remind him that he, Bruce Wayne, was also deserving of love, of family, of happiness. Then Dick came along, rather unexpectedly but still no less welcomed, and Bruce started entertaining the idea of having children with you. He definitely wasn't opposed to it, but it wasn't something he wanted to jump right into, especially with Dick having just entered your lives. You were both young, he in his early thirties and you in your late twenties, you could allow yourselves a couple of years just the three of you (four with Alfred) before expanding the family.

So it was rather shocking when two months after you and Bruce had officially adopted Dick that you found out you were pregnant. It both took you by surprise but after talking through it together, you couldn't be happier. And the two of you haven't stopped being happy about this new little addition ever since.

Bruce rose up from his position next to your belly, your limp hand fell from his head as he did so, and he laid on the bed next to you. He delicately kissed your forehead, then your nose before falling back on his pillow and whispered “I love you” as he curled around your body, his hand resting on your belly as he fell asleep.

[ienjoywritingfilth]

the wedding night

hi: i wrote this in an afternoon on the bus and barely edited this. it only exists because seeing that photo of General Acacius made me feel hornee things®. I don't know shit about roman gladiator times, this is just a debauched excuse to be railed by the man.

trope: forced marriage

pedro character: Marcus Acacius x female reader (you)

warnings: innocence kink, age gap (not specified, but he an old peepaw just how we like him) , names like whore because i am one, forced marriage, Au as fuck because i have no idea what happens in the movie, virgin bullshit, eating out, pp in vv, dubconish, i think that's everything.

RATED 18+

"Take to the bed," the muscular man tells you in a raspy voice as you enter the bedroom, wishing you had your fur. "I leave early for battle at dawn." 

He makes no move to leave and so you glance from the waiting bed back over to the imposing figure standing by the fire. His tousled, greying curls are touched by the flickering reflection of the flames behind him. 

This is all new to you and almost surreal. You've been taken from your modest home and brought here to a lavish home in Rome. You glance over at your new husband timidly. 

"Are you to remain here all night?"

"We are wed," he replies with a wry grin. "Of course we shall spend the night together." 

You've been shipped here under your father's greedy love for coin. And now you stand here in the bed chambers of the man who became your husband only hours ago. 

General Marcus Acacius; a man double your age with the kind of quiet strength that made you anxious when you first laid eyes on him today, only moments before he slipped the ring onto your finger and you were announced as his. 

He drank only a bit of wine at the wedding, a stark contrast to the family of yours that acted like the animals in Marcus' stables with every glass poured. Of course they would celebrate; they'd made a small fortune on your marriage, having sold you off like cattle.

And you now stand across the room from him, your husband, General Acacius, Marcus. A man who served under the infamous Maximus. He cuts a fearsome figure both on and off the battlefield with his broad, muscled frame and serious countenance.  

You wear the traditional wedding night garment, a thin dress that is practically see-through. You pull your arms over your chest, hiding your nipples that poke through the thin fabric.

When you'd come to the room you'd been surprised to see Marcus there waiting for you, stoking the fire. You'd been told by the servants that your new husband would be preparing for battle all night. It had brought you some comfort.

But Marcus is here in nothing but his tunic cinched at the waist. His armour is in a pile by the door, his sword there as well. Without it he's still terrifying. 

Marcus notes the arms you hold over your chest for modesty and he feels arousal begin to drip lazily into his veins. 

"Undress," he says plainly, his dark eyes trailing over your body. 

You make no move to follow his orders. If anything you seem angry with him. His fingers twitch next to his thigh as he waits for your compliance. It doesn't come. 

The dark grey tunic he wears hangs just above his knees so when he walks over to you you're able to see his muscled legs rippling with power. You quiver as he finally stands in front of you. One thick forearm goes to rest against the wall above your head, his neck craning so he can look you in the face.  

"I said undress."

"You will not order me about as if I were your slave," you seethe, your head craning away from him. "I am your wife."  

"I am twice widowed," Marcus murmurs as his wide finger traces the curve of your delicate collarbone. "I have come to realize I have little need for a wife."

"Then why bring me here away from my family and my homeland? Why marry me at all if you have no need of me?"

"I have no need for a wife," Marcus repeats roughly, his exhalation landing over your face like a wine-soaked cloud. "But a man always has need for a ready cunt."

You rear back and your hand flies through the air so quickly he's clearly not expecting it. The slap you deliver to his bronzed cheek is so hard that he flinches back at the sensation, but his head remains facing you. 

"I am no whore," you hiss. You've never been spoken to like this. "Nor a hole for you to fill at your leisure." 

You're horrified when you see him lengthen under his tunic, thick and fearsome looking to your inexperienced eye. He smiles at you when you gaze back up at his face, a feral, ugly grin that has you backing against the stone wall as he advances, his pelvis nudging yours. 

"You will be fucked well," Marcus whispers. "So well you will happily call yourself my whore." 

You push at his broad chest, free of his usual armour and yet hard to the touch like iron. He doesn't budge, he just presses his pelvis into yours, pinning you to the wall. You feel him there between your legs, warm and waiting and large. 

His hand comes to grip your jaw, forcing your unwilling mouth to his. He kisses you fiercely, like he owns you. It disgusts you. He pries your lips open with his own and as he licks into your mouth his tongue tastes of sweet wine. 

You wince, trying to wrench from his grip. He only smiles, hands coming to meet at the collar of your nightdress.  You shriek as he begins tearing the delicate fabric down the middle and exposing your breasts to the chilled air. 

"I desire to see what is now mine," he murmurs, a hand coming to palm your breast. 

You bat his hand away, slipping sideways from him into the centre of the room near the bed. He doesn't look upset; he looks amused, as if he were playing a game. 

You hold the torn fabric of your dress at your chest, covering yourself as you back away from his advancing figure.  

"I am not your anything," you grimace. "Leave at once." 

Though your voice is strong you back away, a shuffled step for each strong stride of his until you feel the bed hit the back of your calves. 

"This is our wedding night," Marcus says silkily. "And we must consummate."

Before you can deny him he jabs his strong fingers on either side of your clavicle, causing you to fall backwards onto the bed. You gasp when he follows after you, lifting the hem of your dress. 

His head is thrust under, making you kick out your legs in fear. What is he doing under there? Fear has you convinced he may bite you. 

You go to pull away further when you feel him starting to part your thighs. You squeal anxiously, twisting. 

"Get off!"

"Calm yourself, wife," he orders gruffly from beneath your nightgown. He's stronger than you, his hands wide and it's only seconds before he's got your legs hinged over his shoulders. 

You continue to cry out, desperate for escape. You're terrified of this brute of a man. 

His mouth finds your cunt swollen and wet and when he lays his wide tongue flat and licks a stripe up the seam you suddenly go quiet. You can feel him smile against the lips of your pussy. 

"So soft," he murmurs, kissing your sex reverentially before his tongue darts out to sample you again. It's been so long since he had a cunt this soft and sweet against his tongue. 

Your hips jump and Marcus can't help but smirk. Under your nightgown all he can see and smell is your sex, open widely thanks to his hands, glistening with his saliva and your own arousal. He feasts on you, groaning as he gets swept away by the sensations your whimpers create in him. 

 You're on your back, looking up at the beautifully painted ceiling. A celestial pattern that mimics the night outside your window. Your chest heaves, nipples pert and straining as his mouth works against your cunt, making you tingle everywhere.

He's on his knees beside the bed, you're thighs hinged on his broad shoulders, the cream of your skin against his ears. He doesn't care that tomorrow his knees will ache because devouring you as you thrash for him on the bed has him feeling like a young man again. 

He sucks the lips of your pussy into his mouth with relish, his hips grinding into the edge of the bed when you cry out. You hear him chuckle before he continues and the sound reminds you that you don't want him touching you like this and bringing out these feelings you've only heard whispers about. Not a man who has decided you're nothing more than a thing to fill. 

"Ssstop," you slur above him, unable to focus as your vision blurs.  

"No."

You keen breathily, your hands scrabbling to grip the bed. His broad hands cup your ass, forcing your sex harshly against his mouth. You hear vulgar slurping noises coming from underneath your nightgown and your eyes roll back. 

You've never had a man before. Your mother warned you about husbands and their selfish desires in the bedroom. But this doesn't feel like what she warned you about. This feels good. 

You feel a pressure beginning between your legs and you panic, trying to force Marcus' head from between your thighs but he just grips stronger, tilting his head from side to side as he drinks you down, his tongue wide and stuffing your cunt. 

When be begins to suck brutally at your clit, bliss overtakes you, causing your back to arch and a shuddering scream to leave your throat. 

Your hips undulate as he continues to fuck you with his tongue, stopping only when you begin to whine that it is too much. He licks you gently after that, cleaning the evidence of your orgasm with relish. 

With a creak he stands beside the bed and removes his tunic. In a daze you lay on your elbows, gazing up at his broad, muscular body knowing that if he wanted to he could snap you like a twig. His cock rests heavily between his legs, just as thick and long as you thought. Despite the pleasure he brought you there's still that glint in his dark eyes, a mockery that you can't stand.

"Get away from me."

Your cunt pulses, drooling with your previous release. You try to curl into a ball, facing away from him. 

You think he may leave you be but you feel his hand grip your waist. You thrash as he rips the rest of the nightdress off your body before forcing you onto your hands and knees. 

"It is now my turn to take, wife. Ready yourself." 

He pushes you down onto your belly, curving your ass up to the sky. Then he crawls over you, his hands pinning yours to the bed under his.  You feel him there at your entrance and you feel terrified tears stream over your cheeks. 

"No need for fearful tears," he assures you as his mouth meets your neck. "You will be crying for more of my cock soon enough."

You cry out as he pushes the head of his length between your dripping folds. He's much too big, the intrusion too great. 

"I will make this quick," he grunts. "For your benefit."

Marcus can hardly believe how good the velvet clench of your cunt feels sliding along his cock as he pushes through your virginal barrier. Not since his first wife has he come close to anything this divine.

His teeth come to grip at your shoulder, biting there, marking you as he feeds his cock into your pussy from behind. 

Your cries are muted, your pain ignored, because all Marcus can feel is bliss. Bliss as he marks you forever as his. Bliss as his thick cock stretches your walls, bliss as your pussy stings straining to take him all. 

And by the time he's buried with his hips against your ass, your shoulder is bruised with the indents of his teeth. 

"No more," you beg as he begins to move within you. "Let it be done." 

"We have only started," he muses, kissing your damp cheek. "The best is yet to come."

His frame is so broad it covers you entirely, like you're wearing him as a robe draped over your curved body. He rocks into you as his massive hands press yours into the bed.  

You feel him pull slightly out before buying himself within your womb. You cry out, head falling forward as the slick feel of his cock buries itself deeper and deeper with every subsequent thrust. With every pump he moves the both of you forward before pulling you back. 

And just when the pain is too great, you feel it morph into pleasure. The feel of him thrusting in and out going from sharp to a pleasurable throb. 

Marcus senses the change in you when your back starts to arch and your hips start to lean back to meet his. You're enjoying it now, just as he knew you would. 

"You like this."

He grins to himself when you don't answer and instead let your head hang between your shoulders. 

He continues to tease you, never letting up, waiting until your noises become breathless and needy and then he recedes, chuckling when you whimper his name. 

What feels like eternity later the two of you are slick with sweat, your limbs shaking as Marcus watches you from above. His hands are on your hips now, pulling you against him. 

He spreads your cheeks wide, groaning when he watches his thick cock filling your tight pussy to the brim. 

You're begging for him to give you the same pleasure as before, nearly sobbing with how cock-drunk you are. He feels so good buried between your thighs. 

Marcus only smirks down at you, a hand pressed on your lower back, urging your ass up higher for him. He thinks about all the things he's going to do with you before leaving for battle. 

The thought is exciting him, sending him erratically pumping as he tilts you back, hand coming to strum your clit as your spine kisses his front. He holds you on his thighs, spread wide and bouncing.  

"What are you?" He pants, his lips squished against your cheek, his fingers curling, making you see stars. 

"You're. . . You're wife," you manage to croak out, your hands gripping his forearm slung over your chest. 

He fucks harder into you, his cock hitting the spot your own fingers can never manage. It's causing more stars behind your eyes, your body limp in his grip like a doll. 

"What are you?" Marcus demands again, only now he punctuates his question with a firm slap to your cunt.  

You ache where he slapped, but a pleasurable one that sends you closer and closer to falling off the edge of bliss once more. Only this feels so much bigger, so much more intense than when his mouth was on you. 

"Say it." 

You writhe on his cock, held by one arm around your middle, the other fucking you with his thick fingers over your clit and his thicker cock splitting you with every upward thrust. 

"Please, Marcus."

Marcus is so sweaty, his muscles gleaming in the low firelight. He moans lowly, the sound making your toes curl. Then his warm breath is hot on the side of your face. 

"Say it and I will give you all that you desire." 

You're so close, that pleasure ebbing and coming back stronger with every swipe and thrust. You try to sound it out, but the shame overtakes you again.

"I am you. . . I am your. . ."

Marcus is groaning into your ear again, his thighs twitching as your arousal soaks down his length. But he doesn't stop filling you over and over, his eyes closing as he revels in the pleasure of your milking cunt. 

"Say it." 

And now he presses the heel of his palm against your sex, holding you by the throat under your chin as your head snaps back onto his shoulder. Exposed like an animal Marcus stakes his claim, latching his mouth onto your neck and sucking. 

"I am . . . I am. . ." 

His thrusting continues and now he forces you back onto your hands and knees, draping his body over yours, fingers and cock never stopping, only drilling you from a new angle. He watches your sweet ass ripple for him as he pounds into your cunt, marvelling at how puffy and shiny and perfect she is. 

"Say it," he booms and you can feel his thrusting growing staggered, his body fucking into you with all that he has.

And you can't hold the words back any longer, not when it feels like your very ecstasy hinges on them being said out loud. It tears from you, ripped from your very vocal chords as he sinks into you, your voice shrill and cracked as you scream it.

"I am your whore!" 

The answering groan of Marcus in your ear makes you cry out loudly, coating his stroking fingers with hot arousal as you cum. 

“My whore,” he hisses as you buck against him.

You shake the entire time, confused at how everything in you burst like a ripe berry on the vine and yet you remain outwardly unchanged. Surely you very soul must have left you at that pinnacle of pleasure. You've never felt anything like it. 

And yet here you remain, in his arms in his bed, human and alive. You both pant heavily, the room smelling of sex and sweat and the oils in your hair. 

Marcus tugs you against him and you roll towards his body, pliant and willing. His mouth finds yours but it's soft and delicate. Your hands run through his soft, greying curls. 

"Are you satisfied?" 

You ask it quietly, almost afraid to know his true thoughts. He's experienced in so many ways, twice your age, strong and capable. And yet the kiss he gives you is gentle. It curves as he smiles against your waiting mouth. 

"I am, wife."