includes::bruce wayne x fem!reader x talia al-ghul, married!brutalia, baby-sitter!reader, implied age gap, established marriage, power imbalance, mature content (17+), oral (f. receiving), threesome [f/m/f], PiV, multiple orgasms, licking, biting, sloppy / messy, oral fixation, titty sucking, finger-fucking, dirty talk, praise kink, grinding, begging, possessive behaviour, voyeurism, sexual tension, lowk manipulation, creampie, implied scissoring, alcohol ingestion, 8.7k words.
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extras:: reader is extra pathetic in this lol sorry if that isnt your jam i just thought 'what would i do if i was in this situation???' and well...! at least yall know id act like a pathetic loser lmfao.
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loren's thots:: did i do my big one w this guys................lowk....i think i did......my dih was so hard writing this i love being bisexual wrote this listening to pushing p, tbh, n' les and wow!!!!!! 10/10 experience i recommend......... and no i dont have a good relationship with both of my parents before u ask....................
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main m.list | join my taglist <3
FOR A CHILD so meticulous, bruce and talia had been nothing short of skeptical when their son had expressed interest in their latest babysitter-- you.
"please," damian had sighed diplomatically at the dinner table (the night following your trial run), "she is quite adequate for the job. she provides snacks when i am peckish, takes great interest whenever i express my fondness of animals, and most importantly-- leaves me be when i crave independence."
his mother and father had shared a brief glance across the long dining room table; bruce's navy irises meeting talia's emerald. "if she is to your liking, then i see no issue in hiring her officially," he tried cautiously, practically in disbelief that his son had actually liked one of the many babysitters the wayne al-ghuls had tried.
talia nodded, running a hand through her thick, brown tresses-- fingers fiddling idly with her fork. "i agree, beloved. it's not every day we hire someone to your standards," the woman teased to her son, only to be met by a fierce jade gaze.
"that is not true," damian had huffed. "i am just... fastidious."
standing from the table, bruce had run a strong hand through damian's dark locks-- the younger boy's hands immediately swatting his father's away. "being particular is not a bad trait to have, son," bruce said, rounding the table to press a kiss to talia's cheek, "i'll let her know she's hired tonight."
°. ⋆༺♱༻⋆. °
so you had quickly become apart of the many moving cogs that kept the wayne al-ghuls spinning-- every tuesday and thursday (and occasionally weekends), the grand doors to the manor opened wide to allow you access into a world you once had no concept of.
damian would greet you by a swift reciting of your last name and a tip of his head-- only to wander off to whatever activity he had been engaged in prior to your arrival; leaving you alone in the obscenely large house, to do whatever you pleased.
never had you really thought about abusing this power-- actively choosing to stick to the first few rooms they had shown you on your trial night; a lounging room with windows spanning the floor to ceiling, additionally sporting an impossibly large television, a library with thousands of books, and one of the three kitchens within the manor. really, there had never been any reason for you to wander about-- for damian chose these same rooms to galivant (save for his own quarters, and dedicated animal room) on nights you were around.
besides, you had learned the couches with impeccable looking leather and the softest of throw pillows and blankets was not just for decoration. curling up with your phone or a good novel, hours would pass instantly-- leaving you no time to explore the home even if you had wanted to, for bruce and talia always returned home from their formal events or work-related endeavors right when they said they would.
punctuality and routine was something both of the older individuals practically thrived on-- never relying on you for emergency based babysitting. choosing strict days of the week for your arrivals, the couple never needed to resort to you as a last contact.
except for tonight.
an unassuming friday night with the moon already miles high above gotham, your phone had rung once. then twice, before you had picked up. seeing the contact-- MRS. WAYNE-AL-GHUL-- had sent a certain shiver down your spine; one you could not place as fear nor anxiety, but perhaps something else entirely foreign.
(attraction.)
"we hate to do this to you, dear," talia had spoken sincerely into the phone, though urgency weaved its way into her words, "but something for bruce's work has come up, and alfred is off, so we're left with no choice."
with little hesitation, you had answered. "oh," you breathed, "it's really no trouble. i'll be over as quick as i can."
there was a distant chatter barely audible through the phone-- talia and bruce discussing something-- before bruce's voice became clear on the other end of the line.
"expect double your usual rate," bruce had said calmly, "we can't thank you enough."
the drive had been fast-- gotham's concrete and grey blurring into thick, forested greens as your car approached the manor; talia and bruce already standing, waiting, expecting, your arrival by a sleek, expensive looking limousine.
as you stepped out of your car, the man made an advancement in your direction; one sturdy palm placed gently on your shoulder, bruce pressed a neat (and thick) envelope into your hands.
"five hundred," he murmured easily, "thank you, again. i apologize for the lack of notice, but certainly--"
something about bruce's hold on your frame made your gut flip excitedly. you cut him off with a simple shake of your head. "please, mr. wayne," you reassured, "things happen. i get it."
a rare grin briefly dusted across bruce's face and the crow's feet at his eyes deepened. "right," he agreed, finally letting go of your shoulder. bruce swallowed, re-adjusting his suit jacket. glancing behind him, talia had caught his eyes-- her gloved fingers wrapping softly around the limousine's door, she offered you a succinct smile, before dipping into the car. "we'll be back before midnight." the man offered finally, slipping away from you and towards his awaiting car.
you nodded, running your tongue idly across your front teeth. glancing towards the manor-- the youngest master stood at the giant oak doors, looking impossibly cross.
"i told them i was in no need of your presence tonight," damian had huffed, barely stepping aside to let you into the manor, "i am taking myself right to my chambers."
"well," you had sighed, toeing off your shoes, "don't let me stop you from getting your beauty sleep."
behind you, the limousine had pulled out of the main driveway for the manor-- down the long, leading twisty road to the gates at the edge of the property. in no mood to wave goodbye to his parents-- damian slammed the two doors shut.
with a subtle roll of his shoulders, damian bid you goodnight, briskly uttering your surname and something like it's nothing personal. the boy turned and went down a long hallway, to the staircase that would lead him to his room; leaving you, once again, alone in the manor's front entrance.
grand paintings of who you identified to be bruce's family (though you could not place who the little freckled boy with thick curls was) decorated the walls, all encased in gold picture frames. a chandelier with at least one hundred candles hung high from the manor's ceiling, casting an imposing shadow down onto the marble floors.
you swallowed, suddenly terribly aware of the five hundred dollars sitting in your jacket pocket.
you could go down to your usual spot in the lounge room; throw on the television, half-heartedly pay attention to a black and white movie-- sip water from a stupidly expensive glass and patiently await talia and bruce's return.
you could.
but something about the glimmer of moonlight through a magnificent window in another room, down another hallway you had not been before practically yanked you away from the lounge before you could make the decision.
feet carrying you faster than your brain could process, guilt briefly clawed at your throat; until you conceded that it would be hours before the couple's return, and something as innocent as a walk could not possibly get you in trouble.
°. ⋆༺♱༻⋆. °
in your defense, the door had been ajar-- not open all the way, no, but not closed either. it had been terribly easy to slip into the room you had discovered to be a study-- and even easier to trace the bookshelves with your fingertip, and let your eyes dance across all of the valuables bruce wayne had laying about.
an expensive looking oak table lined with a singular, silver laptop and a glass lamp greeted you first. all, appearing pristine in condition as if never used before.
glossy leather upon the desk chair shone idly in the moonlight-- let into the room via large, dazzling windows. and the view, perhaps, was the most stunning thing the room offered. looking outward and towards the manor's front yard-- miles of perfectly manicured grass, hedges, and trees painted the landscape. leaves whispered and brushed in tandem with each other, victims of gotham's late night winds. dew coated the rest of the greenery, offering almost an ethereal shimmer to the scenic picture. if you squinted, you could see the large, black gates on the very edge of the property-- the only entrance and exit to wayne manor-- and the security station that glowed with the faintest traces of life (a hired night guard now on duty per talia and bruce's leave). you turned, finally tearing your vision away from the window; unknowingly missing the flash of a car returning to the manor. using your palm, you gently twisted the desk chair-- which creaked silently underneath the newfound stress of your hand.
your vision floated upwards, to just overhead of the chair; an extensive portrait, painted meticulously and with the utmost care flashed brilliantly underneath its display lights. a man, woman, and a little boy-- though not of the family you had grown fond of. no, this was one of the individuals you had known for a short period of time, but the other two remained distant figureheads unknown to you. the woman had a short black bob and the same blue eyes you had recognized on bruce-- though her smile was more gentle, as if it was a secret she could barely contain. the man, on the other hand, was sharper and more angular; face set almost identically to bruce's. adorned by both in different ways (bruce's father a brooch, his mother a necklace) were pearls.
something about them made your stomach sink-- so you tore your vision away from the painting, and back to the rest of the study.
there were filing cabinets hidden cleverly within the bookshelves that surrounded you, and the odd centerpiece for a coffee table caught your eye-- but after a while of snooping, you boredom overtook your mind-- pushing you towards the exit.
just past the door, the manor had gone quieter in a way you could not place. it wasn't the usual silence, somber and tranquil, broken only by the gentle snores of damian-- no, this was somehow tentative. charged.
on edge. almost as if--
the sound of the front doors opening and closing, partnered with hushed voices caused your neck to whip around.
your snooping had gone on far longer than you had anticipated; the fault of your actions becoming ever so clear and blaring as you stood, tucked away against the manor's wall, in a corridor that you certainly never should have been in in the first place. talia's serene laugh carried down the hallway, followed by a soft, almost out of character rumble from bruce.
as comforting as those sounds had once been-- they only now caused your heart-rate to spike, adrenaline coursing through your veins at speeds you had not felt since being caught red-handed by your parents as a child, doing something you were not supposed to be doing.
pressing your head into the sturdy wall of the manor-- a brief exhale through your nose passed through you, because the irony of the situation had not been lost.
in some sort of odd way, this was terribly akin to being caught by your parents. except now, the stakes were much higher-- as you could not exactly afford to lose the hefty pay-check the wayne al-ghul's offered. could not bear to lose the curious little boy you had grown so fond of, could not bear to lose the fleeting surges of attraction you felt around talia and bruce-- no matter how wrong, tasteless, and downright crude these feelings were.
caught up in your head, you had missed the sudden cease of noise from the couple-- no clicking of dress shoes or heels against the marble floors, no hushed whispers or terribly masked chuckles.
there was silence.
your chest heaved softly, the possibility of bruce and talia potentially traveling to another one of the many rooms within the manor giving you ample opportunity to dash back to the lounge an exciting thought-- before you heard the man clear his throat.
"you can come out now."
if your stomach had not already been in knots, it would have certainly been now. despite the lack of... anger, or frustration in bruce's tone (in fact, he had sounded oddly amused-- like this was a game he was playing, and like he had just won) remorse still scraped at your core.
the few steps of shame out of the corridor and into the manor's main entrance had been even more embarrassing, your shadow trailing behind you a few feet-- as if ashamed to be associated with someone like you.
one of bruce's pronounced brows quirked upwards, beguilement curling around the sharp angles of his face. "you're usually very good at following instructions," he said mildly.
heat raised in your cheeks and-- well, your hands kept folding and refolding in front of you as the husband and wife came into your view. leaning against bruce, the woman slowly peeled her evening coat off; long and black with fur stitched into its sleeves and neckline, it only accentuated her fit figure. she t'sked, though there was little heat behind her words.
"which is why this is so interesting." she mused, folding the coat within her hands. long jade nails caught the minimal light the manor's chandelier offered, as if they were akin to claws.
"i'm sorry," you apologized meekly, "i was just heading back to the lounging room."
bruce and talia shared an intimate laugh-- just under their noses, as if they were in on a joke you were oblivious to. "no need to apologize," bruce stated, "it's not often my study gets visitors anyways."
your throat dried up, shame washing over you once again. "i--"
"hush," talia murmured, effectively cutting you off, "we're not angry, dear. though next time," she took a step forward, heels clicking against the floor, "just ask. bruce and i could never tell you no."
her lips-- plump, matte within a brownish-red shade-- tilted upwards. not quite a smile, but something just as warm; just as inviting.
"we don't mind indulging you." talia added lowly, deliberately.
bruce's gaze lingered-- not improperly nor obviously-- but thoroughly. like you were mystery or puzzle to be solved. methodically.
(seductively.)
"it's friday," bruce said obviously, glancing down at his (offensively expensive) wrist-watch, "and not quite eleven yet. since this is such an... impromptu night, we were hoping you'd join us." he explained, adjusting the collar of his suit jacket.
at your hesitation, because when on earth would bruce wayne and talia al-ghul ever have wanted to spend time with you, talia broke your train of thought.
"we were just about to head to one of our lounges," she explained pointedly, "hopefully not one you've seen before."
heat crawled up your neck. "i wasn't snooping," you tried.
both individuals in front of you laughed again.
perhaps your nerves were the joke.
"we know," bruce consoled.
"it's alright," talia offered, fingers running along the fabric of her coat. "but we're just going to unwind, and we'd love for you to keep us company."
bruce ran his tongue along the roof of his mouth, jaw ticking and un-ticking. "wine, whiskey, tea," he offered, in hopes to persuade you.
talia's eyes narrowed, slim like a cat-- preying, almost. "or simply just us," she added.
"whatever you'd prefer."
certainly, you were a lot of things-- but naive enough to remain oblivious to the couple's apparent desire to get you alone? of course not. the idea brought goosebumps to your arms, racing down your entire body. before there had been only delusion feeding your lust-- your pathetic sort of puppy love that chased after the man and woman in front of you. a lingering gaze from bruce on your way out, or maybe a (not-so) innocent touch from talia once your work was done; all feeding these incessant and all-consuming ideas that made you feel like-- perhaps, they were more than just the parents you babysat for. perhaps they thought you were more than just someone who treated their son with the dignity and respect he deserved.
perhaps, they were enticed.
before nightfall had blanketed over gotham's city, it was pitiful and wistful thinking that got you through your day.
but now...
the invitation hung in the air, steady. there truly had been no reason for you to hurry home-- nor did you have plans the following morning.
something curled deliciously, guilty, within your core. you had already run past the confinements of the routine you once practiced within the manor-- why now should you stop? especially with the mr. and mrs. of the household practically begging for you to break the subconscious rules you had set in place for yourself.
the faint scent of talia's perfume and bruce's cologne wafted into your nose and you took an impossibly small step towards them. bruce matched your movements, not coming inappropriately close (yet), but closing enough of a gap to emphasize his size. how sturdy, how solid, how unhurried he truly was.
"if you're offering," you began, "i think i can stay for a drink."
a true grin broke out across talia's face, and she shoved her coat into her lover's chest-- opting to slink her strong arms around your waist, pull you into her frame.
"good," she nodded. you couldn't tell if you were imagining it-- but you could have sworn you felt talia's fingers give your waist a good squeeze. "because it is such a shame every time you're here, bruce and i are absent." she laughed underneath her breath, "it's frustrating, really."
leading you both down another hall-way you had never been before, one you hadn't thought to sneak through, bruce hummed. "such a shame," the man echoed, "but let's make up for lost time now, yeah?"
°. ⋆༺♱༻⋆. °
the first thing you had noticed in the lounge were the lights. they hadn't been bright-- no, they were dimmed to a provocative sort of yellow, tinged with reds and oranges. placed intentionally in the corners of the room to warm, to entice, to ground-- but never to intrude.
the next thing had been the couch; not as plush as your normal sitting room, nor had it been as formal and sleek as the ones in the hosting rooms-- but it still seemed just as expensive. suede-- dark, grey, longing; you hadn't expected to like it when talia urged you down by your shoulders, her fingers rubbing methodical circles into your back in the process. you hadn't anticipated melting into the fabric, into the crevasses of the chair, as bruce handed you one, and then another, glass of red wine. it was expensive, the type that goes down without so much as a hitch. the type that was dangerous.
you really had not foreseen sinking into the husband and wife-- letting talia run her finger-tips along your collarbone, tracing idle figure-eights near the nape of your neck, and allowing bruce to remain beside you, his big hands massaging and caressing the plush skin of your calves like second nature.
talia draped herself over the back of the couch like a cat-- legs crossed, hands pointed and steady against your skin. you breathed her in like oxygen, gasping and unconsciously becoming dependent on her presence. if you leaned into her close enough, the heat that radiated off her frame in waves clung to you like honey along the skin. "this is my favorite," she spoke quietly, and you assumed she had been gesturing to her wine (though her finger-tips drove deeper into your shoulders). "what do you think, bruce?"
"i think," bruce replied, one of his hands occupied by a glass of whatever expensive and hard liquor he had poured himself, "this one's to be savored, dear."
the ice in his glass clinked. a jarring noise compared to the serenity of the room.
"you and i have such divergent tastes," talia said, clicking her tongue, "but for once, beloved, i agree."
there was a shared silence that let you linger in the space; one that allowed you to cherish the looseness in your limbs, the tingle in your finger-tips. never enough to keep you in a haze of intoxication, but just enough to prove that you could be easy.
easy to hire, easy to know, easy to trust.
easy to fuck.
bruce set his glass down on a sturdy oak coffee table just near the end of the couch. with a clear of his throat, he asked; "are you okay?" his hands found your calves once again, readjusting them purposefully within his lap, his touch ghosting against your skin.
"you're quite tense," talia hummed from behind, "you're allowed to enjoy yourself-- allowed to relax."
tipping your head backwards to address the question, you felt the skin of talia's thigh-- exposed via the slit in her dress-- and shivered. "i'm quite alright," you almost laughed, "i just... didn't expect this."
"oh, sweet girl," talia grinned, "we did." her hands traced a slow, deliberate path now-- never dipping anywhere improper, teasing, but never retreating either.
your thoughts had gone slower, more lucid, more distracting-- and your lips pressed to the rim of your glass idly.
bruce's thumb brushed idly at your ankle, swiping softly. he followed the delicate dip of your bone, grounding in his touch. "you're usually so careful," he hummed, "always polite. always so good."
talia leaned in closer, her breath warm and fanning against your cheekbones. "and tonight you're letting yourself be," she exhaled, "indulgent."
heat swarmed to your cheeks, though not from your intoxication. "i don't mean to be unprofessi--"
"no," bruce interrupted gently, his hold on your leg tightening, "that's not what this is, sweetheart."
at the pet-name, something once dull and barely aflame flickered brilliantly within your gut, blazing to life.
"then what is this?" you asked suddenly, the alcohol giving you a false sense of confidence-- though very much short-lived, as impossible levels of humiliation washed over you; heat shooting up your spine.
talia laughed, a breathy sort of thing-- from the back of her throat, syrupy. at the sound, you turned to look at her, taking in her form.
it was odd (though not unwelcomed) to see mrs. al-ghul so... vivid. as if the adrenaline coursing through her veins spurred something within her to life-- something dormant forced open and breathing, it's heart beating erratically with composure. her usual stoicism, politeness-- replaced with an unabashed desire for whatever it was this happened to be.
the concentration on the grand woman now within your line of sight distracted you from the cool, almost jarring sensation of bruce's palm off of your calf.
though quickly-- it was replaced with his hand on your jaw, tilting your head upwards and insisting on your attention. cobalt irises narrowed at you, barely flickering down to your lips, before dancing upwards to your eyes again. his scent was now invading your senses-- vaguely intoxicated from his drink, though mostly enthralling; mint, warm after-shave, the smokey undertones of his cologne.
his breath fanned across your lips, and his fingers clutched almost desperately onto your jaw (like the last bits of restraint bruce wayne had were quickly succumbing to deeper desires)-- tilting you towards him, keeping the tips of your noses brushing. "you want to know what this is?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper; a rumble, perhaps even a groan.
"beloved," talia simpered, fingers running across your shoulder blades.
bruce's eyes briefly darted towards his wife's, before they skimmed back to yours. "answer me."
something unconscious, perhaps carnal within you, made you nod, unthinking. "i do," you stuttered out.
"then kiss her," he instructed, eyes remaining yearningly on the plump fat of your lips, "you want this? prove it. kiss her."
"you don't have to," talia offered, her voice startlingly close to your neck as she spoke; her own lips softly planting themselves near the junction where your throat met your shoulders.
at the tightening of bruce's grip on your jaw, your cunt throbbed. "i want to."
crow's feet appeared near bruce's eyes as he smiled slowly-- mouth tilting into something, though subtle, greedy. "yeah? you want to?"
you nodded, and echoed your words-- enthusiasm bleeding from each syllable that fell from your lips now. "please,"
bruce's fingers uncurled around your jaw momentarily, before slipping away entirely-- only to be replaced by equally as strong, but more slender and feminine digits-- talia pouncing on the opportunity to twist your head and capture your lips; locking them against her own.
she tasted like all-spice doused in cocoa powder-- even the faintest traces of black berry seeping into your senses. you vaguely remember bruce holding out the wine bottle you and talia had both shared; something about the undertones, aromas, final notes.
the stickiness of your lip-gloss clung to her lips as she softly groaned against you-- tongue darting outwards to taste your fattened flesh, before attempting to pry your mouth open.
you obliged, letting her appendage slither into your mouth and wrangle your tongue. nothing about the kiss was chaste or fleeting- talia's mouth moving against yours almost greedily, entirely messy and unbecoming.
beside you, bruce had sat backwards into his couch. one foot across his knee, the ice within his cup rumbled as it clattered against the glass, swirling gently within the expensive liqour he continued to nurse. if it wasn't for this and the subtle drum of his fingertips against his dress pants, you wouldn't have believed he was there. there was no sound to his breathing, not any indication of another individual within the room-- as if he had completely mastered the ability to blend in with the world; remain unseen and silent.
the thought of bruce watching you and talia wordlessly, as if not even there, made your cunt throb.
still tilting your jaw upwards, talia continued to kiss you heavily-- absorbing every inch of you that she could, seemingly attempting to fuse you both where you attached. her fingers coiled around your jaw and throat, squeezing-- holding you impossibly close, your breath quickening and shortening at her action. pulling apart momentarily, you felt her breath fan across your lips-- lashes fluttering softly against the silk of her skin.
"have you thought about this before?" she asked, so low-- you almost missed it.
you swallowed, chasing her lips. "yes," the vibration of her approval simmered against your flesh.
from beside you, the clink of bruce's glass emptying into his mouth carried throughout the room. he whispered, anticipation buzzing beneath his skin. "thought so."
talia grinned into your kiss, the eagerness you were exuding especially entertaining. she tore herself from you, pressing kisses-- messy, wet-- to the corner of your mouth, along your jawline and down your neck. "such a greedy girl," she mused, "go give bruce some attention now; don't you think we've left him out of the fun?"
nodding hazily, your irises remained glued to the now swollen fat of talia's lips-- only her hand guiding you to face the older man.
bruce's tie had been yanked away from his neck, his white shirt unbuttoned at the very top-- defined shoulders and collar-bone on display. his skin glistened underneath the dim lighting from the lamps, and the pale blue of his eyes looked haunting.
he was irritatingly handsome, suit coat long abandoned. your cunt throbbed again, talia's nails scratching at your neck before digging into your skin-- urging you towards her husband.
bruce unfolded his legs, a silent invitation. clambering atop the couch, you found yourself suddenly straddling him-- both of your thighs pressed tightly against his hips, grounding you to bruce's large form.
he cleared his throat, hands immediately snaking their way up your arms and towards your neck. his thumbs swiped idly at the skin beneath your ears as he cupped your jaw. "such a sweet girl," he purred, "i don't think i'm the one that should get the attention tonight."
leaning forward, your jaw went slack ever so slightly as bruce pressed his mouth to your throat-- right to your pulse-point, suckling at your skin sporadically, inhaling you.
you were gasping as his teeth drew across your skin-- biting enough to sting, but never to hurt. soothing over the dips with his tongue, bruce hummed against you.
"mr. wayne--" you tried, palms burning where they rested at his shoulders.
"it's bruce," talia answered, allowing the man to remain attached to your skin. instead of splaying across the top of the couch like before, she had rounded the furniture and planted herself neatly beside the both of you, watching. "i think we're long past formalities."
the shortest beginnings of a chuckle from bruce pulsed at your neck where he was kissing, biting, licking-- pleasure radiating off of both of you in waves.
in a sudden movement-- bruce had flipped you onto your back, your frame connecting with the couch harshly. the man, however, paid little mind to you as his lips continued to dance across your skin, trailing downwards from your jaw and throat to your shoulders and collarbone and sternum.
big palms dipped underneath your shirt, raising it enough for the man to pepper kisses along the curve of your breasts, exposing your skin and raising goosebumps along your body.
talia sucked on her teeth from beside you, before she nudged closer to your frame-- soft skin coming in contact with yours. she hummed approvingly at the sight of her husband lowering and settling himself between your legs-- his fingers now hooking into the waistband of your pants, and slowly peeling them off of your legs.
he hadn't even bothered to remove your panties-- exhaling shortly before pressing his mouth to your cunt, tongue dragging along the fabric.
"oh!" you yelped at the sensation, hips bucking immediately against bruce's face. his hands had slipped to your waist, keeping your bottom half pushed steadily into the couch.
"stay still," he tutted, words mumbled by your dampening panties and pussy.
not to be forgotten-- talia leaned forward to connect her lips to your temple, a silent request for your attention. once your eyes had made contact with her own, through thick and fluffy lashes did she speak, "such a loud girl," she breathed, "but you don't want to wake my beloved boy, do you?"
you shook your head no, legs quivering softly as your thighs clenched around bruce's frame.
"exactly," talia agreed, "so i think i'm going to put that pretty little mouth of yours to work."
manicured nails snuck underneath the strap of her dinner dress-- and slowly, she slipped out of the top half of her outfit. to your surprise, she hadn't been wearing a bra. her light brown nipples peaked underneath the newfound exposure of cold-- before she took the fleshy part of her tit in her hand, and guided it to your mouth.
suckling immediate, your eyes fluttered and shut-- the salty taste of her skin invading your senses. the woman exhaled loudly, one of her hands going to scratch at the nape of your neck. "mhmm," she sighed, contently.
the slightest of flickers from bruce, still busied entirely at your pussy, was made apparent as he reached a hand out to caress his wife's leg-- hand trailing upwards to her inner thigh, before he pulled away and placed his attention back to you.
he groaned into your cunt, dipping underneath the fabric of your now ruined underwear, pulling them aside to get himself flesh to your body. the noises coming from his tongue at your slit, drawing achingly slow circles, were nothing short of vulgar.
your tongue continued to trace talia's nipple, lapping and suckling at the skin-- her gasps and hums of pleasure sending shocks to your pussy. it clenched and sobbed at the noises she emanated, and once bruce stuck a digit past your hole-- your back arched off of the couch, hips tilting into his face.
talia's hands wrapped around the back of your head lovingly-- though she was not gentle as she forced your mouth to remain steady at her tits. "c'mon," the woman encouraged, leaning further and closer into you as if to ease your efforts.
you moaned around her skin-- dutifully switching to the other breast, a trembling hand of yours coming upwards to cup the spit soaked one. beneath you, bruce continued his ministrations, mouth latched onto your clit as he pumped two fingers now, vigorously in and out of you, curling as they bottomed out within your dripping cunt.
the married couple, too, moaned. bruce at the taste of you finally on his tongue, as if he had been waiting-- and talia as you rolled and circled her stiffened nipples within the warm confines of your mouth.
bruce's tongue flattened along the length of your pussy, dragging himself up and down and up again-- before talia's second hand curled into his hair and yanked his head away from your core. the man blinked up at his wife hazily, lower half of his face coated in your slick.
talia hummed deliciously at the sight. "bruce," she exhaled shakily, peeling you off of her breasts, "i'd like to taste her too."
he obliged wordlessly; tugging talia gently down to the ground beside him, you watched carefully, mouth slightly agape, as the two slotted against each other like puzzle pieces. talia's plump lips locked around bruce's, her tongue poking through his own lips and into the chamber within his mouth-- both groaning and gasping and moaning at the actions, taste, sight of all of it.
talia called your name, which came out muffled against her lover's mouth, "you taste brilliant," she praised. breaking the kiss, talia stuck her tongue out to lick bruce's jaw towards his mouth-- savouring the taste of your pussy on his face. "but i think i'd prefer if i got it straight from you, sweet girl."
bruce moved his body ever so slightly to allow talia to take his place-- her hands finding the flesh of your thighs, dragging your hips closer to her face. she peppered kisses along the curve of your waist, letting them trace lower and lower until they met your clit.
she pressed a kiss to the sensitive nerve, smiling slyly, before blowing cold air onto your cunt. "such a pretty girl," she mused, latching herself onto you.
you sighed, content at the feeling of somebody on your aching extremity once again-- your arousal practically leaking out of you in demeaning waves.
from behind the woman, bruce cleared his throat-- steady hands finding the fabric of talia's dress, only to rid the clothing from his wife's frame.
"beloved," he mumbled, leaning forward to paint kisses delicately along the expanse of talia's strong back-- "you'll let me warm up with you, right?"
talia nodded lazily from in between your legs, one of her hands leaving your thighs to peel her own panties-- all she was adorned in by now-- to the side; exposing her to him. "you needn't ask, bruce." she whined into your cunt, her tongue continuing to sloppily trace your clit and dip inside your hole.
gasping, you watched as bruce undid his belt-- an oddly harsh sound against the melody of your shared moans with talia-- and freed himself from both his slacks and boxers.
you hadn't known what you were expecting when you had seen the older man; but something akin to delight shot from your head to the tips of your toes, seeing bruce's exposed cock.
he was thick, heavy within his hands; curved and flushed a pretty shade of pink. pearlescent beads of pre-cum already gathered from his tip, and he sighed longingly as he gave himself a few pumps-- before aligning himself with talia. the woman hummed, pleased, at the feeling of bruce grinding himself against her cunt.
you, too, moaned as if you could feel it-- pussy clenching, yearning for the same type of treatment. desperation was clearly clawing at your senses-- as your hands had even found your own breasts, molding and caressing at the flesh and flicking at the stiffened nipples even beneath the fabric of your bra.
at your actions, you heard bruce chuckle. a deep, erotic sort of sound. "i'll get to you, sweetheart," he promised.
but before you could respond-- before he could say anything else-- bruce pushed himself inside of his wife. inch by inch, you observed as talia's cunt swallowed bruce's cock-- as she gasped against your pussy, as she arched into her husband's touch.
they both moaned in tandem as he bottomed out within her, talia's cunt clenching desperately around bruce's cock. "that's it," he groaned softly. "you take me so well, beautiful, every time."
talia's jaw had gone slack at your pussy-- and for once, you hadn't even minded. not as talia looked so impossibly ravishing as bruce began to thrust in and out of his wife, and as he looked so disgustingly infatuated with talia.
you moaned softly as the sound of skin slapping began to bounce off of the lounge's walls-- filling the space and holding tight the arousal dripping from the corners of the room and bleeding into everything it could touch. waves of heat scorching the surface of everything within the room-- your minds, your bodies, and your souls all included.
slowly but surely, talia had begun to eat you out again-- this time, with a renewed vigor. using one of her forearms to balance herself against your frame, she brought her free hand to your cunt-- using a precarious thumb to roll tight and efficient circles onto your clit. "we want you t-to feel good," she shuddered, eyes fluttering shut momentarily as bruce's cock massaged her g-spot, "can you do that for us?"
nodding dumbly, your hands snuck their way properly now underneath the fabric of your bra-- fingers easily locating and pinching your hardened nipples. you rolled and rolled and rolled-- pleasure washing over your frame like ecstasy. you were gasping, breath stolen from your lungs as talia increased the pressure of her thumb along your clit. her tongue hooked just past the entrance to your cunt-- and your eyes were rolling into the back of your head.
bruce's pace was quickening (perhaps desperately) behind talia. he drove himself in and out and in again, balls slapping against his wife's ass as he hissed and cursed quietly under his breath. and suddenly-- as if indulging, as if he was shy but could not stand it any longer-- he raised a hand to spank her. it was harsh and clipped, his palm already leaving a searing mark against the plump fat of talia's rear. she moaned whorishly into your pussy, so out of character for the woman you (thought) you knew-- and her hand only sped up its ministrations. "please," she pleaded, big brown eyes blinking up at you, glassed over with watery tears of pleasure, "need you to cum, pretty girl. i need you to finish all over my face before i let bruce have his way with you,"
her words sent your gut fluttering-- your pussy clenching and strangling talia's tongue, soaking and dripping downwards onto her jaw. "don't stop," you gasped, heat pooling delightfully within your core.
"she won't," bruce huffed, cock pulsing within his wife.
talia nodded, keeping riiight where you needed her most-- though you could have sworn the strong woman rolled her eyes at her husband's commentary, ever so slightly, even as he remained buried deep inside her cunt.
your orgasm crept up on you, barely allowing you the gift of time to register the prickling of goosebumps along your skin; the shivers coursing through your body, the twitch and thrash of your legs and hips-- until your pussy was spasming and drooling all along the older woman's face. talia remained steady in her motions-- nursing you through your orgasm as if she was still trying to bring one forth and unto you.
bruce had stilled his movements, only inside his wife now by his tip-- and he watched intently as you continued to cum aggressively. big palms ran across talia's back, as if he could soothe you through your orgasm by stroking talia.
you shook until your body had gone slack from pleasure. vaguely, you thought-- when the fuck was the last time i came that hard?
"was that good?" bruce questioned, voice low and rumbled. he was now fully out of his wife-- his cock looking almost painfully hard as it glistened with talia's slick.
"m-mhm," you croaked out, chest still heaving and legs still twitching intermittently.
talia sat back and onto her knees, delicately wiping your cum off of her face with the back of her hand. "well, i'd hope so."
bruce let his fingers dance along talia's spine, up to the nape of her neck-- before he leaned down to press a chaste kiss to his wife's lips. he savoured the taste of both of you on his mouth, faint traces of wine seeping into the edges of his senses-- before he pulled away and dedicated himself to you.
bruce wayne crawling towards you was not a sight you had ever expected to see-- but one that was most certainly not unwelcomed. he positioned himself in between your legs once again, though you watched his biceps curl underneath the fabric of his dress shirt as he pulled you flush to his hips. "good thing i get to have my turn now," he whispered against the shell of your ear, "because i want you to cum that hard again-- just on my cock instead."
you shivered. full body, electric. your cunt was practically already oozing all over bruce's lower abdomen, his v-line taut and pronounced against the softer flesh of your thighs and core. his lips secured themselves to your jaw and neck, dusting kisses across your skin in a terribly gentle form of foreplay. below, his hips rocked steadily-- for now he was grinding himself against you as he had done talia earlier.
a hiss escaped your mouth as the tip of his dick caught on your clit; bruce took this as encouragement, and reached in between your sweat slicked bodies to wrap his hand around his extremity and slap it against your pussy.
"do you think you can take him, pretty girl?" talia cooed, suddenly beside you. she had slipped back onto the couch, body heat radiating onto your frame as she slinked closer to you-- no different than before except for the fact now that she was entirely bare. her body shimmered underneath the ambient lighting of the lounge, her curves and muscles and beauty marks ever so prominent in such a rousing environment.
you opened your mouth to speak, only to be caught off as bruce pressed into you. your jaw went slack, the feeling of his cock beginning to stretch your cunt out ever consuming. the veins along his dick pushed against your insides, carving themselves into your body-- molding yourself to bruce in ways, although fleeting, purposely permanent.
talia laughed, soft and delicate. one of her hands found its way to your scalp, scratching and soothing as she murmured against your head, "i know," she crooned, "isn't he just so fucking big?"
bruce was pulsing into you slower than he had done his wife-- empathetic of the fact that this was the first time you were taking someone of his size. still, it was a slow and torturous dance with too much and not enough; the words in your brain blurring into a pathetic mesh of moans.
you tried to agree, you really did, but all you could do was exhale shakily. talia snickered again from behind you, though of course there was no malice in her amusement. your grip on what now, you realized was her wrist (along with bruce's hand that rested on your hip) was iron.
"doing so good," bruce praised, brows furrowing as he buried himself deeper within you, "such a perfect girl."
the praise shot to your cunt, and you felt yourself flutter around his pulsing cock.
talia continued to rub soothing circles into your scalp, her mouth pressing breathy kisses to your hairline softly-- all the while she muttered praises of her own, agreement that bruce was bigger and better than anyone else; sympathy because weren't you just their poor girl? you've been needing this for such a long time, haven't you? such a shame we didn't get to have you sooner.
"but it's alright," bruce gasped softly, bottoming out within your aching pussy, "because we get to have and take care of you now."
your pretty irises rolled into your skull for the upteenth time that night as you felt bruce begin to move. he drove himself out of you slowly, at first-- as if he had some sort of restraint he had to adhere to-- but the second you moaned and whined and bucked your hips, pleading, "please, bruce, please fuck me," the man hadn't stood a chance.
his lower stomach repeatedly ground into your clit every time he was sheathed within you fully; the friction making your toes curl and back arch away from the couch. talia would sigh, would coo, would kiss at you absentmindedly-- drawing your attention away from bruce momentarily, because shouldn't she have some fun too?
in the heat of it-- with your legs clenched tightly around bruce's hips and his cock throbbing inside of you-- talia snaked her hand down your stomach and towards your clit, rolling just as she had before.
the combination of bruce's cock kissing and massaging your g-spot and talia's fingers at your clit was almost too much. pleasure and euphoria was beginning to blind you, and your legs quivered around bruce's frame in a fair warning of your second orgasm.
bruce, ever in touch with your body, gripped one of your calves tightly-- only to raise it, and bring your leg to his shoulder. he turned his head softly, black locks clinging to his dampened forehead, to press a kiss to your ankle bone. the new position had him deeper than you had thought was possible, and your entire body thrashed from underneath the married couple.
"don't cum yet," bruce spoke jaggedly, "i know you're close, sweetheart, but i know you can wait for me."
talia nodded from above you, fingers still abusing your clit. "we know you can," she echoed, "you've shown a history of being good at listening-- hasn't she, beloved?"
bruce nodded towards his wife, adam's apple bobbing as a bead of sweat rolled down his temple. "she has," he exhaled, "such a good girl for us."
your bottom lip was surely bitten raw-- for you had had it caught in between your teeth to stifle your moans, stifle your pleasure, hold off your orgasm because of course you would listen to bruce and talia.
but it was getting difficult-- your pussy was beginning to spasm with the first waves of your orgasm that you could not suppress, and the sweetest of mewls were falling from your lips. so much so, talia took pity on you-- and pressed her lips to yours.
you moaned and hummed freely against the kiss, savoring the taste of you and her within her mouth. she, too, groaned softly at the contact-- her circles at your cunt going slack for a moment, only to pick back up in pace.
bruce's pace as well, quickened. the repetitive motion of him thrusting in and out and in again, entirely too thick and yet not enough was making both of you insatiable. "fuck," he groaned-- and your cunt pulsed, because bruce wayne swearing was far too fucking attractive for you to handle.
"i want to cum," you begged suddenly, words tumbling out of your mouth, into talia's and the air around you all, "please. i- i've been so good, please,"
never had you ever considered begging for anyone else like this-- the act much too humiliating to consider when fucking just anyone else.
but this wasn't just anyone else. they weren't just random people you had decided to hook up with.
bruce groaned incoherently as he moved his head again to bury his mouth and nose against your ankle-- teeth suddenly digging into the flesh of your calf to muffle moans (moans! your cunt had bruce wayne moaning like a pornstar!) as his cock jumped inside of you.
again and again and again-- did his tip find and make love to your g-spot.
this was bruce wayne and talia al-ghul you were fucking. of course you were going to beg.
"please," the plead fell from your mouth in a broken, sob.
"i love it when you beg," talia mused, her breath fanning across your lips, "sound like such a good girl."
she swallowed, and through teary eyes did you watch her throat bob softly. her fingers-- two, now-- rolled and circled your clit incessantly, different than before. they fucked you now with a purpose. to draw something very intentional out of you.
bruce was fucking you like that too-- intentional. his tongue darted outwards to taste the salt of your calf to your ankle, and his voice vibrated tantalizingly against your skin. "i'm going to cum," he announced, shuddering, "and i want you to cum now too, a-alright?"
the announcement of his own orgasm coupled with talia's intense movements was more than enough to make your cunt flutter once, then twice-- then uncontrollably and terribly powerfully as your orgasm knocked the wind from your lungs.
your nails were piercing subtle moons into talia's wrist where your hand still remained; the same thing happening to bruce's arm where your grip on him was also just as tight.
you couldn't think of anything logically-- not with your cunt fluttering hopelessly around bruce's cock, not with talia scratching at your scalp gently and peppering kisses along the fat of your face and along your jaw.
not with bruce's dick suddenly spilling pump after pump of cum into you-- his cock pulsing repeatedly within your weeping pussy. the man was gritting his teeth, still moaning into your skin, grip entirely too tight along your waist where he still continued to drag you onto his appendage.
"bruce--!" you gasped, thighs quaking as his thrusts grew unrelenting.
"i know," he breathed, icy irises squinting down at where you both still remained connected, "need to fuck it all out, make sure all of my cum gets inside of you."
talia giggled along your skin, licking a stripe upwards from your chin to your mouth. "such a demanding man," she cooed, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, "my beloved can get so greedy once he sets his eyes on something he wants."
from above, bruce spoke-- voice harsh as the remainders of pleasure bled from each syllable. "you say that like you aren't a persistent woman, my dear,"
"well of course i am," talia whispered, hand leaving your hand to press against bruce's stomach-- effectively getting the man to pull out of your sopping cunt.
all three of you watched as bruce's cum began to ooze out of you-- a thick load, mixed with your own arousal and cum. dark lashes beat against talia's cheek as she got up from the couch and took bruce's position in between your legs; even taking one of your legs up and onto her shoulder, offering a gentle kiss to your ankle like her husband had.
bruce himself didn't move very far-- as he was still close enough to plant a kiss to talia's hairline. the woman leaned into his touch, a thousand unspoken words travelling between them, until their shared gaze fell upon you once again.
talia cleared her throat, hooking one leg over your hip-- allowing both of your pussies now to only be a few inches apart. she lowered herself down, and it was impossibly lewd-- the way bruce's cum clung to her cunt as it trickled out of you. her voice was low, seductive-- the same tone you had grown used to hearing as gotham's moon hung high above the sky.
"because now it's my turn to fuck you properly, isn't it?"
Okay but the Batfam thinking reader still doesn't know their secret identities and using it to their advantage to give into their desires without the guilt after saving her. The reader playing along because she's been lusting after them for years now.
Nothing like bringing Batman/Robins/Batgirls into your bed to thank them for saving you.
OH?? You little freaks/pos
This is actually canon to the pseudocest universe, I think I put that in once. But NOT canon to the Clingy Bruce AU.
Warning: pseudocest, identity porn(?), shame, they think the reader doesn’t know, but she knows, female!reader because anon used she/her pronouns to describe reader, SMUT, OOC behaviour, ‘daddy’ used in a sexual context, etc.
(Specific smut warnings: pseudocest, daddy kink, implied somnophilia, dub-con but only from the batfam’s perspective MOSTLY, overstimulation, edging, whining & whimpering, we’re torturing this family, the reader can get a bit mean, oral sex, penetrative sex, fucked dumb (?), Tim can only really curse for his part so I don’t know if it counts, grinding, mentions of masturbation, etc.)
BRUCE WAYNE
This one is the worst of the bunch because this guy is a FATHER FIGURE. He shouldn’t be doing this, not with a civilian and certainly not with you.
Half-aware that you have some inkling as to who is behind the mask but chooses to believe that you and him are both in denial about it. (He thinks you’re also choosing to believe it’s not him behind the mask but you are fully aware and accepting of it.)
Very hard/firm on you during the actual act but not cruel or particularly rough. He likes to take his time—to enjoy you completely and as much as he can before you are inevitably ripped from his hands and move on and get a partner who will be able to love you and touch you and hold you in all the way that Bruce cannot and that Batman cannot fully act upon.
He doesn’t know that you’re here to stay.
You don’t know if you were put in this position because he didn’t want you looking at his face for too long and somehow figuring out his identity or if he just wanted you like this.
“Ah!”
But you don’t really care.
Each one of his thrusts was harsh—slow things that almost knock you forward if not for the firm grip he has on your nape, pushing your face down into the pillow.
His low, modulated voice fills the room with rough mumbled words that just barely reach you and groans that vibrate through your flesh and have you clenching and gushing around him. Greedy like he’s the only man you ever want inside you like this.
“Like that?” He grunts, giving a hard snap of his hips that have you crying out and nodding your head mindlessly to whatever he said.
His free hand is low on your back and rising, tracing your spine like it was something miraculous to worship, like the arch of your back was something to commit to memory.
“Fuck- take it,” he hisses as you clench around him, trying to drag him in deeper, trying to get him to go faster, harder. “Take it, sweetheart, take it-“
The little pet name slips out naturally, almost instinctively. It’s what he calls you when you’re sleepy in the mornings and what he calls you when you call him crying to pick you up from school or whatever else.
It’s what he calls his daughter.
And, for some reason, it sends a flood of heat through your bones, turning you to mush at a simple word.
“Daddy,” you whine, legs trembling with an ache beyond you.
And he moans, crumbling at the sound of you whimpering beneath him, for him, though not really, and fucks into you harder, faster. “It’s okay, it’s okay-“ he pants. “I’ve got you sweetheart, I’ve got you- I’m going make it all better.”
“Daddy’s cock is going to make it all go away.”
Super duper deep in denial when he’s forced to confront the reality of the situation and that you know that it’s him behind the mask and want him anyway—maybe even because of it.
But he is also literally never letting you leave. Ever.
It’s this weird thing where he literally refuses to accept it and refuses to act upon any urges as Bruce until you get fed up and wake him up one morning by riding him.
DICK GRAYSON
Also deep in denial but in a slightly different way because he’s not your dad, he’s your older brother. (Even though you’re technically not related.)
Probably masturbated to a few photos of you and blocked it out afterwards.
Completely unaware that you know it’s him behind the mask and both consciously and subconsciously ignoring everything that says otherwise.
He curls his hands firmly over your thighs, helping you sink down on him by steadying you but doing it more so just to cling to your skin, to tether himself to something solid as he watches with wide eyes behind his domino mask as your cunt slowly, carefully swallows up every inch of him.
He’s gasping from the moment you graze the tip of him. His eyes are rolling back when you take him up to the hilt.
Beautiful. Your cunt is squeezing and dripping all around him, gripping at him like a hot, wet fist and the only thing he can think is—‘You’re beautiful.’
He doesn’t say it, he can’t with the way you’re beginning to ride him and leaving the usually chatty man speechless with the way you take him so easily, so eagerly.
But he knows it’s plain on his face, or what you can see of his face.
Face flushed, ears red, panting, hands gripping tight on your hips and thighs. He feels pathetic. He feels dirty. He feels needy.
But you’re gorgeous like this. Because you’re panting. You’re moaning as you lift yourself up, up, up until there’s danger of him accidentally slipping out then taking him in full all over again.
Beautiful.
“Love- fuck-“ he finds himself saying, whimpering with his skin thrumming a low tune of wrong, wrong, wrong. “Fucking love this cunt, baby- fucking love it-“
You smile and giggle at him, gasping when he flexes his hips upwards, completely oblivious to the fact that it’s your older brother who’s beneath you, that beneath the mask of Nightwing lay Dick Grayson and his depraved desires.
You are FULLY aware.
You both love each other a lot in this.
However, that love is inherently sinful due to the nature of it.
You don’t care but he does.
But it doesn’t matter, really, because even when he does find out and gets angry that you knew for all this time, he’ll still be the one crawling into your bed, crawling into your heart, and whining against your neck because it’s all he wants, all he needs.
CASSANDRA CAIN
Practically roleplay to her, honestly.
Finds out that you’re fully aware when you smile up at her in the middle of it from where you lay between her legs. You’re too relaxed, too willing, and looking just a bit too mischievous to not know.
Can’t find it in her to care when you swoop back down and begin to devour her feverishly.
Her hands grasps at the sheets helplessly, clawing at them and bunching them up in her hands like a lifeline. Cass can’t help but try to grind her hips against your face, trying to get more, but you press her hips back down and leave her whining and whining as your tongue slips inside her, the hot muscle thrusting in and out with an erratic sort of worship that she didn’t know you had in you.
She feels like she’s spinning out of control, tumbling out on the other side of paradise. “____,” she half-sobs, half-moans. You’ve been doing this to her for hours, eating her out, shoving your fingers inside of her, making an absolute mess of her cunt, but each time she gets close, each time she almost cums, you pull away with a wide grin on your face.
Sadistic.
“‘Lease,” she slurs, tongue heavy in her mouth and fumbling. “Please, I wanna- I wanna-“
“Shh,” you hush her gently like you weren’t being entirely cruel and unfair to her. “You said I could do whatever I wanted to you, you said I could have my way.”
Cass whines, something desperate and wanting crawling up her throat. “I’ve been- I’ve been-“
“I know, I know,” you murmur, placing a sweet little kiss on her clit that wracks through her entire body like an electrical shock. “You’ve been so, so good for me, baby. But you’re just gonna have to wait a little bit longer.”
She does sob when you slip your fingers back inside her and curl them in a way that has her just on the edge of it all.
“Just a little bit longer.”
Comes out the other end dazed, panting, dehydrated, a little scared of you, and way too attracted to you.
You’re a civilian, dude, how did you tire her out like this? (Because she let you.)
JASON TODD
The most romantic one of out all of them but still has an image to keep up.
Genuinely kind and gentle with you (even though he does make fun of you a bit) but also doesn’t know where to put his hands half the time.
Does not think you know who he is and that you have a thing for serial killers or some weird shit.
Jason is entirely wrapped around you and you around him.
Your legs are wound around his hips, ankles locked at his lower back, and arms around his torso, clinging to him tightly and pressing him down further against you. He’s got his face shoved into your collarbones, cock shoved deep enough inside you that you could feel him in your throat, that you could feel him everywhere, and with his arms wrapped around your waist, tugging you even closer, if possible, you almost felt like one being. Like there was no beginning of you and no end of him.
“Red-“ you gasp when he grinds hard into you, leaving you to throw your head back against the pillows.
He leans back only to come down and press sloppy kisses from the middle of your collarbone up to your throat, coming up to your jaw, and then, after a half-second of hesitation, ending at your mouth. You whimpering into his mouth and he swallows the sound up with reverence. “Yeah, yeah,” he pants into your mouth, tilting his head to the side to deepen the kiss, chuckling when you accept him almost instantly. “I know.”
And then he’s sliding one of his arms out of the hold he has on your waist and sliding a gloved hand down, down, down your abdomen and to that vulnerable little clit of yours.
He shudders at the feeling of your flesh beneath his fingers, cock twitching inside you. Then, his fingers are moving, pressed into your clit and massaging little circles into the nub that are slowly making you go insane.
He gasps into your mouth when buck your hips up against his. “I know.”
You may not love him. Hell, you may not even like him. But you like Red Hood. You like being beneath him. And maybe that’s enough for now.
Loves you very much.
He cares about you like a LOT in this and I hope that’s clear.
Will be having a bit of a revelation when he finds out that you do know because what do you mean you want all of him? What do you mean you don’t just want the Red Hood but that you also want Jason too? Crazy stuff.
TIM DRAKE
He does not know that you know and is taking full advantage of it.
There is still shame there of course, he’s not a complete degenerate, but y’know, not enough.
His skin is boiling. There’s a popping and crackling heat that has settled beneath his skin and-
He muffles a groan by pressing his lips together as you lick one long strip on the underside of his cock. Your eyes are dead set on his own, a mischievous, almost playful light in them as you take the tip of him into your mouth and begin to suck.
Tim fumbles to grab onto the desk beneath him, gripping onto the wood for dear life as the warm wet heat of your mouth wraps around him entirely.
“Fuck-“ he mutters, knuckles going white from the hold he has on the desk. “Fuck, fuck-“
There’s a low burning shame in him, an ember at the pit of his stomach, but it’s far too easy to ignore when you swallow around him and begin to take him deeper-
“Oh, fuck-“ Tim is weak.
“Oh, shit- just like that, just like that-“
Thinks he’s the one with the cameras. The one watching. (He is terribly wrong and he soon finds out about this when after he finds out that you knew all this time, you lift up a usb drive with a smile, ready to blackmail him if necessary to make him keep quiet. He has never been more attracted to a person ever.)
DAMIAN WAYNE
This one is going to be the most sfw out of all of them.
This boy is a ROMANTIC. He’s going to want to take things slow but may not be able to.
Genuinely thinks you’re the prettiest thing ever and wants to do all that weird couple-y shit he used to hate but is now realizing maybe he was just jealous.
He’s kissing at your neck—soft, gentle, light things that have you giggling against him. (He wishes he could keep the sound in a bottle.)
Your hands are in his hair, holding him to your skin, holding him, and scraping your fingers and nails across his scalp pleasantly.
There’s something bittersweet about it. About the fact that Robin gets this but Damian doesn’t. (And may never.)
Robin gets to kiss you, Robin gets to hold you, Robin gets grind up against you until he’s on the edge of bursting and does, and you let it all happen.
But Damian is just your little brother. Damian is just the boy who climbed into your bed for comfort and not for your body.
His hands tighten on you. You let them.
He wishes he could hold you like other men do—publicly.
(And he can’t help but feel jealous even as he bucks his hips up against your thigh and you giggle, hands reaching for his belt.
Because Damian doesn’t get this, Robin does.)
He is going to be in so much agony when he does quit being Robin and pursues the medical field. (He thinks he’s losing you.)
So very jealous—not only of himself but literally of anything and everyone because he’s insecure about his place beside you and what he wants from you.
pairing:gi-hun (456) & front man (in-ho) x fem!reader
requested by: @cutecat2005
Masterlist squid game
my main masterlist
__
content:
yandere, dark content, stalking, obsession, captivity, dubcon, domination, crying, possessiveness, jealousy, violent thoughts, heavy smut.
Yandere!In-ho x Reader (Player)
“You don’t belong in this place… you belong to me.”
---
Context:
You joined the Squid Game—shy, fragile, and terrified. While you try to survive, someone high above is watching your every move. The Front Man, always silent and hidden in shadows, becomes obsessed with you.
---
Headcanons:
In-ho noticed you on day one, when you collapsed crying after the first round of “Red Light, Green Light.”
Your vulnerability didn’t make him pity you—it made him need you.
He watches your every step through the security cameras, recording everything.
He “accidentally” orders guards to separate you from others.
You always end up sleeping alone… because he wants it that way.
Whenever someone gets too close to you, they disappear.
A player tried to touch you once? He died during the next game.
In-ho watches you sleep through the monitors, whispering, “my little girl…”
Sometimes at night, you feel something outside your door—it’s him, just watching.
If you get injured, the game mysteriously pauses and you’re taken for “private” treatment.
He’s threatened guards for staring too much at you.
One time, he disguised himself as a masked worker just to hold your hand and walk you to the next game.
You’ve never seen his face, but there’s something strangely familiar in his touch.
He has a folder full of screenshots of you crying, smiling, sleeping…
There's a short recording of your breakdown that he listens to every night like it soothes him.
He believes he’s protecting you—even from himself.
He’s entered your room before while you slept. You woke up to a cold hand on your cheek… but no one was there.
He sends you clean clothes, extra food, warm blankets—things no one else gets.
You start to question whether you're hallucinating, or if someone is truly taking care of you.
He’s insanely jealous—he hates every single look you give to anyone but him.
Eventually, he commands the guards to bring you to his office. He watches you in silence until you whisper, “Why me?”
He leans in, his body nearly touching yours:
“Because you’re the only pure thing in this hell.”
The first time he kisses you, it’s rough, tense—your lips trembling in fear. He loves that.
He keeps you locked in his room for days, calling it your “reward” for surviving a game.
When you try to escape, he doesn’t scream—he simply locks the door and whispers coldly:
“You belong to me. And in here… I am God.”
You were trembling. The cold metal door slammed behind you, echoing through the small, dimly lit room. The only source of light came from the monitors on the wall—screens that played only you. You. Sleeping. Crying. Eating. Changing.
A deep, cold voice filled the air.
“Do you finally understand, little one?”
“You were never alone. I was always here. Watching. Wanting.”
He stepped forward, removing the black Front Man mask slowly. Your breath hitched at the sight of him—sharp eyes, a jaw clenched with restraint, and a hunger so feral it made your knees weak.
“I’ve waited long enough.”
In-ho gripped your chin, forcing your gaze up.
“You looked so pretty crying in the first game... but you'll look even prettier crying for me.”
His lips crashed against yours—hungry, harsh, possessive. You whimpered, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth, stealing your breath as if he had a right to it. And to him, he did.
He yanked you onto his lap, sitting on the edge of a low table. His hands were everywhere—gripping your waist, squeezing your thighs, pressing between your legs through the thin fabric of your uniform.
“No one else has touched you, right?”
“Tell me no. Tell me you’ve been mine this whole time.”
You nodded, breathless. He smirked, eyes dark.
“Good girl.”
He ripped your shirt open—no hesitation, no mercy. He stared down at your body like a starving animal, fingers sliding over your skin with painful slowness.
“You look like a doll. My doll.”
He pushed you down onto the cold table, spreading your legs roughly. His hand slid between your thighs, cupping you over your underwear, feeling the heat building there.
“You’re already wet?” he growled, voice low.
“You’re sicker than I thought…”
Then he tugged the fabric aside and dipped two fingers inside, making you cry out. Not gently. Not carefully. Just deep and fast and his.
“Say my name,” he growled. “Let me hear you say who owns you.”
“I-In-ho—!”
“Louder.”
“Say who’s fucking you.”
“Say who you belong to.”
He slammed into you—no warning, just skin, just heat, just raw, primal claiming. You cried out, overwhelmed, the stretch making your body jerk. He pinned your wrists above your head, pounding into you without mercy, gritting through his teeth:
“You’re not a player. You’re my toy. My fucktoy. My little thing to use when the games are over.”
His thrusts were brutal, unrelenting. Every slap of skin echoed against the cold walls. You were crying now—tears streaming, gasping his name like a prayer, like a curse.
He leaned in close, forehead to yours, as his hips snapped into you one last time.
“I’m gonna fill you up,” he growled. “Gonna cum so deep you’ll taste it. You’ll never forget who you belong to.”
With a final grunt, he spilled inside you, holding you still, burying himself so deep it hurt. He didn’t pull out.
He didn’t let go.
“You’re not leaving this room,” he whispered, breath hot against your ear.
“Not until I break you completely.”
Yandere!Gi-hun x Reader
"You're all I have left. You're not going anywhere."
---
Context:
After winning the Squid Game, Gi-hun is mentally shattered. He lost everything—his mom, his friends, his humanity.
But there’s one thing that kept him going. You.
You, the only light in the middle of all the bloodshed.
Now that he has power and money, he’s not going to lose you too.
---
Headcanons:
He met you during the Games—you were quiet, scared, fragile… and he fell in love with that softness.
Watching you cry after the first game made him promise,
“I’ll protect her. Even if I have to kill again.”
After he won, he used part of the prize money to hunt you down—tracking your name, your ID, everything.
You thought he had died… until he showed up at your door.
Gi-hun looked different—eyes hollow, smile fake, and a strange, unstable energy around him.
He hugged you way too tight, his fingers trembling on your back like he couldn't believe you were real.
He started visiting daily, bringing you flowers, sweets, stuffed animals… like he was trying to spoil and claim you.
When you tried to distance yourself, he cried,
“You’re the only thing keeping me from losing it completely…”
But his sweetness turned into control. He started asking too many questions.
He installed hidden cameras in your apartment.
One day, you got a text:
“Why did you let that guy touch you?”
When you confronted him, he snapped.
“I bled for you. I survived hell for you. And you betray me with some random guy?”
He kidnapped you and locked you in his house.
“It’s only temporary… until you realize you love me too.”
He feeds you, dresses you, lets you sleep in his arms like you're a porcelain doll.
But when you try to run, he ties you to the bed with red silk ribbon.
“I don’t want to hurt you… but I will if I have to.”
Gi-hun has mental breakdowns where he cries on top of you, whispering that he doesn’t want to be a monster.
Other times, he kisses you so hard and deep you can’t breathe—teeth, tongue, tears, everything.
He calls you “my angel”, “my prize”, “my reason to live”.
But he also threatens you:
“If you walk out that door, I’ll make you regret ever being born.”
Sometimes he dresses you in soft, childish clothes—to keep you “pure.”
He talks to you like you're still in the Game:
“You won too. You won my heart.”
He tattooed your name over his heart. Literally.
One day, he takes you back to the old Squid Game warehouse.
“This is where it started. And this is where I’m going to marry you.”
He records videos of you sleeping, whispering things like,
“Someday, we’ll have kids. They’ll look just like you.”
And if anyone tries to take you away, he just smiles…
“She’s not going anywhere. She’s mine. Forever.”
Your wrists were tied to the headboard with a soft red ribbon, but it might as well have been steel. You’d already tried pulling away. It didn’t work. Not against him.
Gi-hun stood at the foot of the bed, shirtless, chest rising and falling like he had just run miles. His eyes were wild, red from crying, but his cock was hard, thick, dripping at the tip. He looked at you like a man ready to destroy and worship at the same time.
“Do you know what you do to me?”
“You smile at me once and I go fucking insane.”
He climbed on top of you, crawling like a predator. His hand wrapped around your throat—not tight, just enough for you to feel it. Know it.
That he was in control.
That you were his.
“I don’t care if you’re scared.”
“I don’t care if you hate me right now.”
“You’ll love me. Even if I have to fuck that fear out of you.”
He kissed you—messy, tongue pushing deep, possessive. His hand cupped your breast roughly, kneading it while his hips pressed between your thighs, grinding against your soaked panties.
“So wet for someone who says they don’t want this…” he whispered against your neck.
“Your body knows who owns it.”
With one hard yank, he ripped your panties off and spread your legs wide open. You gasped, but he silenced you with another kiss—his free hand stroking between your folds, spreading your arousal up and down until you were trembling under him.
“You think I don’t see the way you look at me?” he hissed.
“You want this. You want me to ruin you.”
Then he slammed into you—bare, raw, deep. Your scream was caught in your throat as your back arched off the mattress. Gi-hun groaned, head falling against your shoulder, his pace already fast, desperate.
“Tight… fuck—so tight for me.”
“Say it—say you’re mine.”
“Tell me whose cock is inside you.”
You whimpered, shaking your head in refusal—but he just fucked you harder, the bed creaking, his fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise.
“Wrong answer, baby.”
“Guess I’ll have to fuck you until you remember.”
His thrusts were punishing, his skin slapping against yours as he buried himself over and over, sweat dripping down his temple. He kissed your tears as they fell, licking them up like they belonged to him too.
“You cry so pretty for me,” he moaned, forehead pressed to yours.
“You’re gonna cry even harder when I cum inside you.”
He pulled out just enough to watch his cock coated in you, then slammed back in with a growl—deeper, meaner, his hips snapping against you as your body trembled under the pressure.
“I’ll make you cum first,” he whispered darkly.
“Make you scream my name so loud the whole world knows you’re mine.”
He reached between your bodies, rubbing your clit in fast, cruel circles, not giving you a second to breathe. Your orgasm hit like fire—legs shaking, mouth open, body convulsing around his cock as you sobbed his name.
“Gi-hun—fuck—Gi-hun, I—!”
“That’s it. Good girl. Say my fucking name.”
Then he followed, biting down on your shoulder as he came deep, thick, filling you full and holding you tight, like he could melt into your skin.
He didn’t pull out.
He didn’t let go.
He kissed you again, slow this time—almost tender—but his voice was still dark, broken.
“You’re mine now. You understand?”
“You’ll never leave this bed. Or this house. Or me.”
And then he smiled—tears on his cheeks, sweat on his brow, cum dripping from between your legs.
The instant he sees you, you become his entire reason for holding on — amid the cruelty of the games that strip everyone of their humanity, you're the one who proves he's still human — still able to love. To him, that makes you precious beyond measure.
He begins copying the way you act — softening his tone, speaking more gently — all in an attempt to bridge the gap between you and himself.
You smile at him once — just once — and he replays it in his mind every night, clinging to it like a prayer before sleep.
In a moment of panic, you grab his hand during a game — he clutches it tightly, and even when it's over, he's slow to let go — like releasing you might mean losing you for good.
Gi-hun used to be the kind of man who couldn't even hurt a fly — now, he's learning fast — in this place, fear isn't weakness. It's survival.
He watches everyone around you with sharp, unblinking focus — a glance in your direction is all it takes — in his mind, they're already a threat. If someone gets too close, he pulls them aside when no one's looking... and makes sure they never try it again.
When the next lights-out erupts, he positions himself over you without hesitation — weapon gripped tight, eyes scanning the dark. He doesn't say a word, but his presence alone is a warning.
Gi-hun keeps a close eye on every conversation you have, no matter how innocent — a laugh that lingers too long, a quiet voice he can't quite hear — to him, it all spells danger. He'll calmly place a hand on your back and guide you away, the touch gentle but just firm enough to remind you: you're his, not theirs.
Gi-hun rarely sleeps — and when he does, it's nightmares of you dying: shot, falling, bleeding out. He wakes up gasping, crawling to you just to feel you breathe. At first, you comfort him. But it becomes constant.
Even when food's scarce, he gives you most of it — “I'm not hungry,” he says — stomach growling. You later catch him skipping meals, quietly saving everything for you. “You come first. Even if it kills me.”
He doesn't just play to win — he plays to protect you. In Red Light, Green Light, he stands behind you, ready to catch you. In Tug-of-War, he positions himself to cushion your fall. On the Glass Bridge, he tests each panel first, “Don't move until I say it's safe. I'd die before you fall.”
If you die — he doesn't break down. Instead, there's only silence. He stares at your lifeless body as if everything has shattered. “You were meant to survive. I was meant to keep you safe.”
Anyone conntected to your death? He hunts them down in the darkness — no mercy, no feelings — only cold revenge: “This is on you.”
He speaks to the empty air — eats next to your empty bed, and warns others to stay away from “you” because you are tired.
He buys the house you dreamed of together — creates a grave, and fills it with keepsakes. “I did it, love. Just like I promised.”
If you survive — the moment the final round ends and you're both alive, Gi-hun grips your hand like it's his only anchor. The blood and death become nothing but a test you passed together. “We made it. You and me... just like I promised.”
Gi-hun spends the prize money on “everything” for you — a peaceful home, fresh clothes, no job, no worries — and complete isolation. He screens your calls, changes your number, and never lets you go out alone. “You've been through enough. Now, I'll protect you.”
The moment you try to step out alone or see a friend, he breaks — not in anger, but in panic. Falling to his knees, he pleads, “You don't understand. If you leave, you'll die. They'll find you. I can't lose you now.” He convinces you the world is still dangerous — that only he can keep you safe. And maybe, deep down, you start to believe him.
You survived, but to him, you're fragile — like a delicate glass doll ready to shatter. He won't let you cook, saying it's too risky. He runs your baths, brushes your hair, and sometimes watches you sleep, whispering, “You're still breathing... good.”
He makes you breakfast every morning like a devoted husband — plans trips you'll never take. Pretends the games were nothing but a nightmare. But in his eyes, the shadows of the arena still linger. “This is our reward. The world doesn't deserve you — only I do.”
You made it out alive. You have everything — but nothing that's truly yours: not your space, your freedom, or your future. And Gi-hun? He has you. And he's never letting go.
──── ୨୧ ──── 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 ──── ୨୧ ────
Ownership — he doesn't just want your body — he wants your soul. calls you mine constantly. marks you with bruises, hickeys, and sometimes even bites — on your neck, thighs, anywhere someone else might see.
Obsession — he worships you in bed — kisses every inch of your skin like it's sacred. but the praise is always twisted with obsession. “No one else will ever touch you like this.” ✮ “You were made for me.” ✮ “I'll kill anyone who even thinks about you like this.”
Breeding kink — the trauma of the games left him desperate for permanence — and he sees your body as the one place he can plant roots. finishes inside, every time, without asking. murmurs about “filling you up” even when it's not about pregnancy. “If something happens to me, I want you to carry a part of me.”
Voyeuristic kink — he doesn't want anyone else watching — but he wants to watch everything. mirrors in the bedroom so he can see your face from every angle. will make you ride him in front of one just so he can watch you unravel. “Look at how perfect you are... made for me.”
Emotional manipulation — Gi-hun gets off on the idea that you're choosing him... even when you're scared. will make you beg — not just for pleasure, but to stay. sex is often tied to his fear of abandonment. “If you ever leave me, I'll break. You don't want that, do you?”
Soft dom — he's rough when he needs control — but most of the time, he's needy. clingy. almost pitiful. burying his face between your legs like it's prayer. whimpering into your neck as he finishes. holding you after, like you'll disappear if he lets go. “Let me stay like this. Just like this. Please.”
Risk-driven — adrenaline drives him. sometimes you catch him hard after an argument or a close call — the fear turns to arousal instantly. will pull you into the nearest corner, raw and desperate. mutters “you're alive, you're alive.” like a mantra as he moves inside you.
Imagine riding Gi-hun. He doesn’t say it, doesn’t admit it, but hell, he loves when you ride him.
His hands on your waist, guiding, then moving to your hips, where his fingers leave marks from how tight his grip is.
The way he nods as you grind, silently urging you to keep going. His eyes—those _ eyes—watch you with so much love and desire. Even if he wants to close them, he can’t.
They’re half-lidded, glossy for some reason. And the little pants slipping from his lips... He doesn’t care if you are cumming on his cock, because the moment you stop—even if it’s just to catch your breath, his hand moves automatically to your neck, choking you and pulling your pretty face closer. His lips brushing your ear.
"mhmmm Keep going, baby. We’re not done… keep fucking yourself." His husky voice cuts through the air, low, rough, breathless. It feels like a threat—a sinful one—that turns you into a damn puddle.
His other hand grips your hip, guiding you, helping you keep bouncing. It’s overwhelming, no matter if it’s your first orgasm of the night or the fifth, he has this way of making you a mess <3
Why did it take 6 months until the Frontman gave 222's baby to his brother?
just a quick drabble from the top of my head, idk it's 2am leave me alone
"Take off your mask."
A shaky breath escapes your lips while doing as you were told, sweat still dripping from your forehead from earier labour.
Now that the games have ended and the protocol for erasing all evidence has been completed, you assumed it was about time for the usual: One last, passionate moment spent together before you and your superior would part ways for yet another year.
Almost automatically, you fondle with the zipper of your suit, about to present yourself for him like so many times before.
"No" he stops you immediately, raising his hand in a rather appeasing than commanding manner. "Don't."
Before you could even react, the man turned around, fondling with a piece of furniture you didn't recognize despite being invited to his quarters on the regulary.
And then, out of the black box no one would assume was a bassinet, he took the last thing you'd expect to see ever again.
"Is that-"
"Yes, it is" he answers the obvious, beckoning you over while cradling the newborn in his arms with a tenderness you weren't aware he was capable of.
For a while the two of you would remain like this, standing besides each other as you undeservingly watched in awe of this peaceful innocence born in the midst of sin and despair.
In-ho observes intently how your eyes light up when the baby's little fingers wrap around yours, feeling the corners of his mouth etch into a smile he had long since forsaken.
Many questions were burning on your tongue, most of them concerning the child's future, but also about the Frontman himself that remained an enigma to you even after all those years. Because as intimate as your relationship was, it was also strictly physical, and in all other aspects he prefered to keep a 'professional' distance.
"Did you ever want to have children?"
You blink up at him like a deer in the headlights, unsure whether it was a trick question. After all, he was never interested in your thoughts, or feelings in particular.
"I heard you volunteered to feed her" he inquires further, gently wrapping a blanket around the baby after placing it back into the bed.
Sure, you weren't opposed to the idea itself, but with the circumstances your life had developed, you never truly allowed yourself to even consider it.
"I'm a murderer" you state matter-of-factly, facing downwards in a mixture of shame and bewilderment. "I shouldn't involve myself with anyone."
"Same goes for me" he retorts in his usual callous tone, standing so close that the back of your hand barely touches his. "But I was told to deal with the baby as I see fit."
"So...have you decided yet what to do with it?"
The Frontman's features always seemed as much of a mask as the angular black shapes of his attire, although right now a hint of melancholy slipped right through. "I...have someone in mind. But not yet, not while it's still so dependent."
Before you could even think of a possible answer to continue the conversation, you felt his fingers intertwine with yours, eyes still locked on the baby stirring contently in it's sleep.
"You still live alone, right?" You nod. It's not a question, it's a fact. He knows even the most trivial details about your life outside of this job, and unbeknownst to you he's way more involved than he should be.
In-ho remains silent, chooses not to reveal what's going on in the inside, about how the current games reopened old wounds and got him to question simply everything.
"Just a few months" he squeezes your hand ever so slightly, gaze darting between you and the newborn with a fondness that almost startled you. "I need to settle some other things, so...I could use some help caring for the child."
It sounds like he tries to convince only himself, for the power imbalance between you two made that proposition more order than offer anyways.
Still, here was method to his madness, well aware that you both would inevitably taint this symbol of hope shall you get too attached for too long.
In-ho leans to your height, planting a lingering hiss to your temple before resting his forehead against yours. You crack a meek smile, since this brief imitation of normalcry was the first thing worth looking forwards to in an eternity.
"Alright, then let's...try to enjoy this while it lasts."
18+ | very dubious consent | nsfw (nothing explicit) | blowjob | gunplay | blood and death | obsessive behavior | spoiler-free | not proofread
Could theoretically be interpreted as Prequel to -> THIS <- drabble, but can also be read as a standalone story.
It all started on his very first day as Front Man.
As the games officially started there was no swirling of whiskey to jazz music in his huge leather armchair, no macabre figurines whose meaning only he understood, no rigid routine he established in order to not go insane with guilt and grief.
Only his new quarters, wiped clean from any belongings of his predecessor, a book with instructions and you: A random Circle Guard, almost as new to the job as In-ho was to his, assigned to stick in his presence like a shadow and fulfill his every wish.
Merely a year prior, desperation had driven you to accept this ominous job offer, making you personally witnessing Player 132's downfall and moral corruption from behind the scenes. So you were well aware what ruthlessness lied beneathe the perfectly composed, some would even say charming facade.
And now this very same man had you bent over the desk of the monitor room, pink overall down to your ankles and your face forcefully pressed onto the control panel as he pounded into you from behind, almost like attempting to make your moans drown out the sounds of gunshots and screams.
Who knows, maybe it was his twisted way to get accomodated to this profession.
After he was done with you and rationality crept in his disturbed mind again, the way his piercing eyes settled on yours was enough to make you terrified for your life. He seemed so utterly repulsed at the sight of you, sobbing and writhing and begging while still pinned down by his bruising grip.
In-ho's disgust was not directed towards you however, but no one else than himself. He was shocked about what he had become, hell, what his wife would think of him if she was still among the living.
"Get out of my sight" he ordered flatly and you needn't be told twice, yet he emphasized it with an enraged roar. "NOW!"
And yet, of course this self-proclaimed callous man found his rationality be overthrown by darker desires again and again and again.
The second time it happened he demanded to take off your mask, but your fingers hesitated on the fabric. Not because of the cardinal rule to never reveal your face to anyone, but rather fearing the consequence if your appearance was not to his liking.
But then again, who were you to deny him?
Next thing you knew you were on your knees in front of his spread legs, eyes never leaving yours as he made you suck on his loaded gun. He had never wielded one before, never even considered it back when he was still a different person, and yet right then he was eagerly palming his erection through his pants while running the cold metal across your cheek, neck, chest, down to more sensitive areas. He'd observe every minicule reaction and sound you made, until the point where he cannot stand it anymore, balling a fist in your hair as he mouth first shoves you onto his cock, the other hand still holding the pistol to your temple while fucking your throat.
It certainly wouldn't be the last time In-ho would use his weapon for this purpose, putting it on - or even inside - your body.
In-ho never kissed you, never spoke more than necessary and his choice of words were usually sharp like glass. "Strip", "Off with the mask", "Kneel"...no greetings, no goodbyes. Most of the time he wouldn't speak at all, however you prefered him coating himself in silence over the degradations he could come up with when he was especially enraged any time.
Asides from those intermezzos, you were treated very generous, had much freedom and only small occasional tasks. And you had to admit that your boss was an extraordinary skilled lover, always mindful of your body and as indifferent as he appeared, he made sure you were properly tended to afterwards.
That same pattern repeated for years, and while you were grateful to be spared from the cruelty you were well aware he was capable of, your position was a very lonely one.
Because despite his demand that you're to be in his vicinity almost 24/7, the leader would completely disregard your presence except for those intimate moments you shared.
You thought that he was merely using your body for his own, sick entertainment, maybe even as means to let off some steam. Because whenever he made you perform your one and only 'duty', those were the only times this stoic man showed at least a fraction of emotion - even if it was anger by default.
But the truth is he wasn't grounded by ravishing you, no - the opposite was the case. It feels like the life In-ho had rebuilt on the ruins of his old one collapses as soon as he looks into those damn doe eyes of yours.
And it made him furious beyond all reason, because how dare you making him betray his oath to remain loyal to his wife until he'd join her in death, and how dare he forget all of his principles for the sake of a foolish lowlife like you?!
In-ho was long gone, the Front Man was what remained, deeply disturbed fractions of a once good man. And he was supposed to be untouchable, unfeeling, unconscionable.
His sole purpose, the only reason he continued instead of succumbing to hopelessness, was to assure the games took place as fair and humanly as possible, having understood the fact that nothing could stop them from the very beginning.
So he surrendered to his fate of solitude and guilt, not only knowing he was undeserving to have a bond with anyone, but after experiencing such great loss being downright terrified of associating with anyone now that he had become a dangerous criminal.
Nonetheless, with previleges comes jealousy and word spreads fast among such an peculiar blend of people.
One fateful night a group of guards entered your room forcefully, thinking if even their leader treats you like nothing but a whore, he certainly wouldn't mind if they did the same.
You remember them saying that this is all you're here for, good only as a toy to play with until you'd get tossed away when he gets bored or break.
Claimed that you were replacable, a thought you shared with them and In-ho tried to convince himself of...
...and yet he caught himself checking the security footage of your location repeatedly whenever you weren't near him.
So it was no surprise that not even a minute after their intrusion, a loud bang was followed by warm, viscous liquid splattering across your upper body. In the blink of an eye later the man who was straddling your waist dropped dead, a gunshot wound gaping where his eye once was.
The other two men would soon follow him to the afterlife, and what remained was the Front Man towering over your bed, wordlessly handing you a handkerchief that couldn't even wipe a fraction of all the blood from your face. You could feel his intense gaze behind the mask, jaw tight as he scanned your body for any injuries.
You wanted to express your gratitude but were harshly cut off as more guards arrived, getting rid of the corpses that served as an exemple. "I just don't like this scum touching what's mine, that's all."
From then on you were permanently relocated to his quarters.
The changes were subtle and barely noticeable at first.
Starting with the redesign of his interior solely for your comfort, followed by random acts of kindness. Lingering touches any time he was in your proximity, small reminders to rest or drink enough water, mental notes he seemed to make of your habits...
...but first and foremost the fact that he'd stay long after the deed was done, arms wrapped around you like you'd disappear if he ever lets go again.
"Are you content here?"
At this point you've been his personal assistant - if one may even call it this way - for three years, and he never bothered asking before.
You were currently patching him up after he left to chase a spy in the facility and returned with a bullet in his shoulder by no one else than his own brother. He insisted that not a medic or a doctor should treat his wound, but the one person that didn't allow their soul to be corrupted by this damned organization.
"Wha- I-" Your fingers stilled mid-movement, resting on the top of his collarbone as he gently lifted your chin. He wanted to sound reassuring, he really did, but he couldn't shake off that authorative edge to his tone. "Look at me and speak freely."
In-ho doesn't even know what he's expecting, but maybe if you voiced your disdain for him and what he put you through, he'd gather the strenght to let you go. Settle everything and give you a fresh start, a new identity and enough cash to lead a comfortable life.
"Sir, I...I like it here." Quite bashful, you busy yourself with the wound again, gently applying pressure to clean it. His eyes follow your every move, mouth slightly agape in awe at that most unexpected answer.
In-ho was staring holes into your skull, desperate to figure out what's going on inside. And if you weren't giving it your utmost to look away right now, you'd clearly see the inner turmoil in those stony features only you learnt to read over the years.
"I'm glad to be useful to you Sir, no matter how."
How ironic that he remembers this in a moment like this, after having just ended the revolt 456 and his consorts had started earlier.
Initially working with Gi-hun was just means to an end for In-hun, another way to cope with the mountain of corpses that had piled up under his feet over the years and whose faces were haunting him night and day. He wanted to prove a point, if not to player 456 then to himself, convinced that there was no other way but to become the monster that he is today.
Yet instead it ended up being like looking into a mirror, a painful reminder that he always had a choice to die honorably yet he forsake his humanity to become this empty shell of a man instead.
But even if he was to switch sides and try to abolish this system from the inside out, he'd only get exterminated and replaced - by someone most likely worse.
Someone that might bring you in harms way as well.
And no matter how the recent events might have shaken up his beliefs, his affection for you was the one constant that would never change.
"Welcome back, Sir!"
The silence was deafening after he recognized your voice, finding you standing in the hallways with your hands trembling on a machine gun you had never even held before. Circle Guards are usually no soldiers, that's the task of the Triangles, but in emergency situations you were all instructed to serve as reinforcement.
Just like right now, in the midst of Gi-hun's pathetic futile revolt.
The Front Man looked almost comically normal in the green track suit, hair disheveled and covered in the blood of both allies and enemies - who was who he couldn't even tell anymore.
During the games you found yourself rooting for him like he was a normal player, especially since it surprised you to see him so expressive. You didn't know this site about your boss, never dared wanting to know more...
...but now you wished that it wasn't all just an act, that deep down he could find that part of himself again eventually.
Much to your surprise, he didn't seem angry that you all failed to prevent the riot of the players. He never let his anger out on you directly before, but you also wouldn't take any chances after he shot so many of you guards on sight.
In-ho lowered his weapon, feeling sick to his stomach for the first time in ages after having committed so many atrocities made him numb to any violence.
But now he almost shot you, damn it!
Before you could even find your voice again the man practically pounced on you, embracing you in a bear hug that made it hard to breathe.
"S-Sir? I-"
"Are you hurt?" His fingers anxiously dig into the flesh of your sides, face going through several emotions at once as he scanned you for any injuries. "N-no, Sir...thanks to your intervention, I did not have to fight yet."
"Good...good" In-ho utters quite relieved, his grip faltering slightly in relief yet remained possessive on your body. "I need to return...clear up this mess."
"Of course, Sir." You handed him the Front Man mask and he stares at it for a long while, as if looking at someone that had become a stranger. "Please take care, and..." you whisper that part barely audible, "come back to me soon."
Suddenly he yanked away your damned mask, the only barrier separating the two of you right now, and lets his mouth crash over yours like he yearned to do for so long already. In-ho pours all his love into the kiss, tries to convey everything that he couldn't put into words until now, having suppressed and denied himself those feelings out of his own foolishness.
But he wouldn't fail to protect what he loves ever again.
When your lips finally part, In-ho smiles. A genuine, hopeful smile so unfamiliar on him it almost frightened you but mirror it anyways. He places another, more tender kiss on the back of your hand before putting on his robe and mask, disappearing in the maze of hallways eager to return home.
All the ways Thanos might give you a share of his drugs.
Warnings: Cuss Words, Drugs, Alcohol, Manhandling, Descriptions of Sex, Nudity
This is even if he lets you, of course he’s willing to share once you prove to him your not a baby to it, and then sometimes he makes you take it because “I’m on fucking fire baby you gotta have some.”
If Your Taking
With his tongue
If he has pills, the only way your getting one is if he kisses it into your mouth. You’ll be apprehensive because your not a good dry swallower but he don’t listen to any of that shit. He grabs you by the jaw and splits your lips apart with his own mouth, you accept as you feel the hard little piece weasel its way into your mouth. He makes sure to try and get his own tongue in there to try and lube it up some more with extra saliva before he’s grabbing you by the neck and tipping your head backwards so that your forced to swallow.
His Mouth.
If he’s smoking something and you want a hit you’ll only stand shotgunning him for so long. It didn’t have as much as of an impact sooo be ready for him to hold the bong or blunt or pipe or whatever for you while you took your own hit. Of course then he sees it as a competition and either tries to hold it as long as you where or taking it in longer. Or he’ll take a different substance like hallucinogens to your weed or whatever and make you guys shotgun eachother mixing the drugs in a way that you don’t even know if it worked buuuuut your high as a kite now.
Off His Dick.
He’ll pull your head away from your current task of sucking him down like a lollipop, and place a thin line of…. You don’t even wanna know what… before he’s angling your nose to it commanding you to inhale. With only a little hesitation you inhale, the scent of his arousal mixing with the electric shock your both feeling right now hitting you like a monster truck. He pushed you back onto him to get some of that shit up in your gums so that when he kisses you again he can lick your mouth clean. He’s so grabby.
His Pelvis
He’s delicately pouring some tequila across his V line while you have to sit and wait like a damn dog. The second he puts it down your tongue unfurls from your mouth and drags across his slightly prickly but mostly smooth skin, feeling the burn of the alcohol already matching the burning fire in your insides. So essentially body shots but him seeing you lick off his V gives him a boner so hard you feel like you just got punched in the throat when it hits your neck.
If He’s Taking
Across Your Chest.
He’ll tap a broken line just under your collar bone right above your nipples while his tongue licked you clean of whatever he was doing before. He squeezes you in tight, feeling like you muffled out the rest of the club, the music the overwhelming smell of alcohol, the pushy people, all of it. He shoves his face down and snorts like the pig he is. Feeling your soft supple skin beneath it just boosts his high even more as he lays back crashing out. Suddenly going from over-stimulated to feeling like jello.
He looks like a godamn mess. From your spot on his lap you look down at his thrown back head, his tangled and spiky hair, and that itty bitty trickle of blood coming from his nose. He smiles crookedly trailing his thumbs across your hips, the bags under his vibrant eyes prominent in contrast to the party going on around you. His shirts undone and his belt is loose. Oh he looks like Oscar the grouch, but he’s your grouch.
On your lower back
Ugggggh don’t even get me started on how good he feels when he’s pounding into you from behind. He’s got you pushed down against the bed with your ass as high in the air as he can get it. He could feel every inch of his skin inside and outside of you. This full body buzz turning him into a fucking jackhammer. He’s hitting that sensitive spot deep inside of you when he bends himself over your ass having to pull out just a bit. The tickle of the baggie being dragged across your back has you squirming but he slaps at your ass before you can shake all his dust away. With a deep inhale he lets out a feral groan and goes right back inside, feeling like he was on the cloud nine of cloud nine’s. Hope you did some yoga beforehand because you’re not moving so long as that baggie is still full. The fuller you get the emptier the bag becomes.
Out of your belly button
Salt, lime, shot. Or is it Lime,Salt, Shot? Eh doesn’t matter, he’s getting the lime and salt from somewhere but then taking the shot out of your belly button and good god when you first met, he promised he knew how to use his tounge, did he fucking mean it ever. So what if it was sloppy, it was hot. At one point he makes you exhale so that your chest sits so low it forms just a small dip in your skin where he can pour some more. Just for it to drip down your sides giving him an excuse to lick more of your perfect skin.
Your Teeth
If he has a blunt or a cigarette and needs both hands to do something, you become his designated try. He puts it in between your teeth while he does what he needs to real quick. Sometimes he makes you come to the bathroom so he can go pee, then as soon as he’s done tapping it off, he’ll take it back with his unwashed hands. You’ll shove him away in disgust and in return all he does is roll his eyes before placing a drop of soap and like three drops of water on his hands. Pawing at your shirt he’ll use that as his towel and put his arms back around your shoulders on your way back to the crowd.
Summury: A night of unbridled passion unfolds as Beth's fiery dominance and Rip's quiet intensity converge with your boldness, blurring boundaries and deepening connections on the Dutton Ranch.
Pairing: Beth Dutton/Reader/Rip Wheeler
The Dutton Ranch was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of the wind through the trees and the soft neighing of horses in the distance. You stood in the kitchen of the main house, swirling a glass of whiskey in hand. You had been working on the ranch for a while now, long enough to gain the trust of the Dutton family—and maybe a little more.
Beth Dutton sauntered in, her green eyes sharp and knowing as always. She smirked when she saw you, her gaze sweeping over your figure like a predator sizing up its prey.
“Didn’t expect to find you here at this hour,” Beth said, pouring herself a drink without asking.
“Could say the same about you,” you replied, leaning against the counter. Your tone was playful, but there was an edge to it. Beth had that effect on people—her presence alone felt like an unspoken challenge.
Before Beth could respond, the sound of boots echoed down the hall. Rip Wheeler entered the room, his broad shoulders and rugged frame commanding attention. His dark eyes flicked between you and Beth, a subtle tension crackling in the air.
“What’s going on in here?” Rip asked, his voice low and gravelly.
Beth shot him a mischievous grin. “Just keeping your favorite ranch hand company, Rip.”
Rip raised an eyebrow at her, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Is that what you’re doing?”
Beth took a long sip of her drink, her gaze never leaving yours. “I think we both know I don’t do anything halfway.”
Beth moved closer, her fingers brushing lightly over your arm as she leaned against the counter. Her touch sent a jolt through you, and you caught Rip watching the interaction with an unreadable expression. It was clear this wasn’t the first time Beth had pushed boundaries—and you couldn’t deny that you were intrigued.
“What do you think, Rip?” Beth asked, her voice dripping with suggestion. “Should we play nice tonight, or are you in the mood for something a little more... interesting?”
Rip’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might call her bluff. But then he stepped closer, his presence as commanding as ever. His hand rested on your lower back, the heat of his touch seeping through your shirt.
“Depends,” Rip said, his voice a low rumble. “What does our friend think?”
All eyes were on you now, and the weight of their attention was intoxicating. Beth’s sharp gaze, Rip’s quiet intensity—it was a lot to take in, but you found yourself leaning into it.
“I think,” you said slowly, your voice steady despite the fire building inside you, “I’d like to see where this goes.”
Beth’s grin widened, and she reached out to trace a finger along your jawline. “Good answer.”
The three of you moved upstairs to Beth’s bedroom—a space that was as chaotic and fiercely personal as she was. The whiskey glasses were left behind, forgotten in the haze of adrenaline and anticipation.
Beth was the first to close the distance, her lips capturing yours in a kiss that was equal parts demanding and thrilling. Her hands tangled in your hair, and you could feel the raw energy that she exuded in every touch. When she pulled back, her eyes were blazing.
“You taste better than I expected,” Beth said with a smirk, and before you could respond, Rip was there, his hands settling on your waist.
He kissed you with a slow, deliberate intensity that contrasted sharply with Beth’s fiery approach. His rough hands anchored you, grounding you even as your head spun. When he pulled away, Beth was watching with a gleam of approval.
“Not bad, Rip,” she teased. “I might even let you go first.”
Rip shot her a look that was equal parts exasperation and affection, but his focus quickly returned to you. “Don’t let her scare you,” he murmured. “She talks big, but she’s all bark.”
Beth laughed, the sound low and wicked. “Oh, I’ll show you bark, Wheeler.”
What followed was a blur of passion and tangled limbs, the lines between dominance and surrender blurring in the heat of the moment. Beth’s sharp wit and bold confidence kept you on your toes, while Rip’s quiet strength provided a steady counterbalance. Together, they were a force to be reckoned with, and you were more than willing to be caught in the crossfire.
Beth’s nails raked down your back, her lips ghosting over your neck as Rip’s hands explored every inch of your skin. The way they moved—sometimes in sync, sometimes in deliberate opposition—was exhilarating, like being caught in the eye of a storm.
At one point, Beth leaned back against the pillows, her gaze heavy-lidded as she watched Rip pull you closer. “I have to admit,” she said, her voice rough with desire, “you two look damn good together.”
Rip didn’t respond, but the way his hands tightened on your hips spoke volumes. His gaze met yours, and the intensity there made your breath catch.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice softening for just a moment.
You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. “Better than okay.”
Hours later, the three of you lay tangled in the sheets, the room filled with the faint scent of whiskey and the lingering heat of your shared passion. Beth lit a cigarette, her expression smug and satisfied as she exhaled a cloud of smoke.
“Well,” she said, her voice dripping with amusement, “I think we just set a new bar for fun around here.”
Rip rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at his lips. His arm was draped over you, his touch comforting in its familiarity. “Don’t let it go to your head, Beth.”
“Too late,” she replied, her grin widening. Then she glanced at you, her expression softening ever so slightly. “You’re full of surprises, you know that?”
You chuckled, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the lingering fire in your veins. “Guess you’ll just have to keep me around.”
Beth exchanged a look with Rip, and for once, there was no argument between them. “I think we can manage that,” she said, her tone laced with promise.
As the first rays of sunlight crept through the window, you found yourself wondering what the future held—but for now, tangled in the arms of Beth and Rip, you were exactly where you wanted to be.
m!ghostface x f!reader x f!ghostface, 1k words
WARNINGS: 18+ adults only. Noncon FFM, wanna be smothered by ghostface pussy? this is ur fic. plus unsafe PIV, squirting, glovesucking, cum eating, manhandling, creampie. ty anon 🖤
You wake up in a cheap motel with a smooth bedspread under your back and the mattress moving rhythmically. The room is cold and the air conditioner is loud, but not loud enough to mask the sounds that had you tingling in your sleep. Deep grunts and moans litter the air. The smell of cum and stale cigarettes seeps through the cloth covering half your face.
“Rise and shine,” ghostface voice says, and you realize the heavy breathing doesn't stop while he speaks. Another victim, you wonder? “What did I say?” Ghostface snaps, but not at you. “Face in the pillow or Mask ON.”
The mattress shakes harder with each thrust until ghostface finishes with a groan. Then there's some breathing and rustling of fabric.
“I'll be feeling that for days,” a slightly different voice says.
“She’s awake,” the original one cuts in, then a big, leather gloved hand brushes your cheek as he says, “Your turn, Angel.” The blindfold is pulled down and you're almost afraid to look.
When you open your eyes, you're seeing double. Two ghostfaces are looking at you, with their heads tilted at opposite angles. Two ghostfaces were fucking each other, right next to you.
You’re naked as the day you were born, and they're fully robed-up, subtly adjusting the fabric as though they just put them on. After tilting his head at you, the original ghostface picks up a knife from the nightstand.
He straddles your knees and instructs his associate, “back to me,” gesturing with both hands toward your abdomen. “Lemme see that ass.” He's not talking about yours, since you're face up.
His masked double gets in front of him, straddling your stomach, and at this point it's clear the one in front is the smaller of the two. From behind, the original ghostface, with his knife still in one hand, begins to teasingly gather his friend’s robe, pulling it up one gloved handful at a time. He does it slow, like a strip tease. The ghostface in front leans back into him, enjoying it. The fabric on the robe is gradually lifted high enough to reveal black fishnets stretching to contain two thick, juicy thighs with a glistening mess between them.
The male ghostface behind her fully removes the girl’s robe, leaving her mask and hood in place. The black fabric under the mask skirts a black lace bra. A garter sits around her waist, holding up the thigh-high stockings. No panties. She leans forward, making her tits overflow the cups of her bra as she brings a gloved hand to your face and teasingly strokes a finger up your cheek to your forehead then down the other side. Her gloves are softer, like satin. The silky fingers come to your mouth and one nudges inside.
“Suck,” she says with her voice still changed. You obediently suck one finger and nearly get on the fabric. “She’ll be a good girl,” ghostface says behind her, then gives her a pop on the ass. She knee-walks forward, still straddling you, and ghostface pulls you slightly down the bed as she gets into position and the smell of their combined sex nearly knocks you out. The air between her legs is warm and humid and makes your loins throb, and your hips twitch. Ghostface, still straddling your knees, observes, “this one likes you already." He thumbs your mound, right above your clit, as his female counterpart lowers herself onto your face.
“Now ride her,” ghostface instructs from behind her.
As she smothers your face with her cunt, you're drenched by the cum dripping out of her. His cum. It's heady and tinged with her sweetness. You lap it up, like your mouth has a mind of its own. She moans, and ghostface lowers his thumb and begins to work your clit. She rolls her hips, grinding on your face. Your pelvis lifts into his hand, and you moan into her cunt.
“Good girl,” she praises as your face is buried in her needy pussy. You let her use your face. At the same time, you surrender to the killer between your legs. Your cunt squeezes around nothing, wondering if you might could take his cock. The thought makes you unravel under his touch.
He says, “fuck yeah,” as you cum and his robe grazes your knees as he gets in between them, spreading your legs wide. “Fuck, it's hot,” he says and takes the robe off, leaving him in a black, nearly-too-tight tee.
He pumps his hardening cock and dips the tip against your slick seam, making you arch your back and moan louder into the hot wet feast on your face. He grabs hold of both your thighs as he lines himself up. You bridge your hips to help, and he says, “good girl.” His arm muscles and veins bulge as he holds you tight and slides your snug cunt right onto his cock with a sigh. His girth forces your insides apart like a sleeve struggling to contain him. He stiffens harder, bigger. After a brief retreat, he plunges deeper with a punch of his hips and growls as he bottoms out. He manhandles your lower body as he buries himself in your pussy.
You whimper into the girl’s pussy and your mouth is on autopilot, eating her and nearly sobbing as his crude cock pounds you. Your chest is thrust into the air and your nipples peak as you arch your back again and groan into her cunt. “Dont stop,” the girl commands. "oh, fuck. Fuck me, fuck.” You plunge your tongue into her poor tired hole. Thrusting your tongue into her, you find more of his cum as she grinds against your nose and he lacks you with his cock. She whimpers and begins to squirt, soaking your entire lower face. With both hands in a bruising grip on your body, Ghostface slams into you and begins to pulse. Then his hands relax.
She lifts off you and the air is cool on your wet face. You take a deep breath. For a moment, you're just lying there, used and content. “I like this one,” she says. “Oh, I do too,” he agrees, letting his cock slide out of you. “That's why I picked her.”
-
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And ty to blakebloodbath for putting girl ghostface in my head a bit ago, too....
Thank you so much for reading. If you liked it, please consider commenting what you liked about it 🖤. You can find my masterlist in my bio.
The first time you give a blowjob to Neige you were surprised. He pulls your hair, made you stay in place. And despite his repeatedly apologies, he still bobbed your head up and down, and then pushed it entirely between his legs when he came.
Neige's so apologetic afterwards. Genuinely ashamed as he kisses your cheeks and cradles it . But then he's still hard dick pokes you stomach, and you hear him whimper.
His eyes look longingly at you, thumbs brushing over your lips . Eye lashes fluttering softly, cheeks tinged pink, he silently begs you to open your precious lips once more.
What if Darting want to cook something for Yan!Chef ?
Yan!Chef will eat anything his picky Darling cooks. Depending on how daring you want to be with your meal choice, he may or may not offer the occasional, veiled help.
It's hard to believe the same man who has made grown adults break into tears for something as simple as not grinding the pepper fine enough is now smiling and nodding as you explain that you completely forgot to add any kind of spice to your dish.
"I kind of assumed they just come with the salt already."
"The...the vegetables, dear?" he asks with feigned curiosity.
Worry not, he already took care of it. That long, passionate kiss he surprised you with mid-cooking? Gave him enough time to spice and stir everything back into proper consistency.
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