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[newspaper-advertisement]

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[bklynsboys]

The Theory on Other Halves

pairing: spencer reid x reader summary: "there's an old buddhist saying, i once read, that when you meet your soulmate, remember that the act to bring you together was 500 years in the making." genre: fluff word count: 1k author's notes: i wrote this because this particular line of spencer's is one of my absolute favorites! i think it's really beautiful how all of the people we love were meant to be in our lives since 500 years ago. and of course, as a fan of space & constellations, i had to insert it into this fic. enjoy <3

THE AIR HUNG HEAVY WITH THE AFTERMATH OF A PARTICULARLY BRUTAL CASE—TYPICAL FOR A DAY IN THE BAU. Dust specks danced in the pale slivers of moonlight filtering through the blinds. Hotch decided it'd be best to give the team a few hours to rest in the motel before heading back home. If it were up to you, you'd be back in your bed as soon as humanly possible, but rooming with the resident genius, Dr. Spencer Reid—the object of your unspoken affections—is an opportunity you wouldn't miss.

For months, the two of you have shared a silent dance of exchanged glances and shared interests. Your colleagues, particularly the girls whom you confided in, seemed to think it was mutual. Now, you sat across from each other on motel beds, a comfortable silence blanketing the room. You traced a thoughtful finger along the rim of your empty coffee cup.

"You have a constellation," he said softly, breaking the stillness.

Your gaze flicked to Spencer, then down to your arm where his hand had landed. A faint scattering of moles dotted the inside of your forearm, resembling a modicum of stars. A small smile tugged at your lips.

"Looks like Ursa Major," he mused, tracing the pattern with his finger. "Though perhaps a little worse for wear, and without the usual bright light, of course."

You chuckled, mirroring his action on your arm. There, nestled just below your elbow, was a crescent moon birthmark, a surprise you always enjoyed revealing.

"Here's another one," you offered.

He turned his hand, examining the crescent with a childlike curiosity. " It's beautiful," he said simply.

"Did you know," Spencer added softly, his voice barely a murmur, "that the ancient Greek saw Ursa Major as a bear?"

You tilted your head, surprised by the random fact. " A bear?"

A smile played on his lip. " Apparently, the constellation's asterism resembled the animal to them. Makes you wonder what they saw in the night sky that we don't."

"Well, my mom had a different take on that," you began, a fond memory surfacing. " She used to say my moon and stars meant I'd meet a space nerd someday who'd love these marks, and we'd be orbiting each other, kind of like the Earth and the sun. She was into soulmates, you see, and space."

The conversation flowed easily, a map of your bodies sketched through shared stories. You pointed to a jagged scar on your knee, the fading memory of you running around and ending up with a scrape on your knee. He, in turn, showed you the faint line on his palm, a souvenir from a particularly enthusiastic attempt at a science experiment as a child.

Your fingers trailed down the faint scar near his hairline, so faint one wouldn't notice it if they weren't looking at Spencer's face intently. "What's this from?" you asked gently.

Spencer chuckled. " You know, how I have really bad coordination?" He sighed. " I was lost in a book, I ran straight into a doorpost. My mom called me 'Crash' after that."

You squeezed his hand gently, a silent understanding passing between you. You knew how much Spencer cherished his mom, especially with her health declining. Sharing stories about her felt like a tender offering of his vulnerability.

He returned the gesture, his thumb tracing the faint outline of a mango-shaped birthmark on your back. " My mom swears it's from all the mangoes she craved while pregnant," you said with a laugh, remembering your childhood debates about the science behind birthmarks.

As the night wore on, your exploration became a conversation without words. You ended up curled up on one bed. You ran your fingers over the slight dip in his lower back, a lingering ache from a wrestling match between an unsub gone wrong. He skimmed his thumb across the freckle dusting your shoulder, a map of sun-drenched summer days.

There was no urgency, no pressure. Just a quiet appreciation for the way your bodies, like your minds, fit together, like puzzle pieces worn from being fitted together—entangled from experiences, both big and small. In the faint intimacy, you found a deeper connection, a comfort that transcended beyond just physical.

Suddenly, Spencer spoke, his voice soft. " Maybe your mom was right, you know."

"Right about what?" You murmured, head tilting at the man's question.

His gaze met yours, a thoughtful crease furrowing his brow. " About finding your soulmate," he said hesitantly. " There's an old Buddhist saying, I once read, that when you meet your soulmate, remember that the act to bring you together was 500 years in the making."

A thoughtful hum escaped your lips. " That's beautiful, Spencer," you whispered.

He continued, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, "Plato once wrote humans used to have four arms, four legs, and two faces, but Zeus split us in half as a punishment for our pride, and we were destined to walk the Earth searching for our other half."

A soft blush crept up your neck. You hadn't expected such a personal turn in the conversation.

"Plato," you murmured, surprised." The one who wasn't a big fan of the soulmate idea, right?"

Spencer's lips curved into a small smile.

"True," he admitted. "But even a brilliant mind like his couldn't deny the undeniable pull we sometimes feel towards certain people. Maybe the Greeks weren't so far off . Maybe the stars, the constellations, these little imperfections on our skin... Maybe they all tell us a story of where we belong."

His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. You found yourself captivated by the way the moonlight glinted in his eyes.

"So," you finally spoke, your voice barely a whisper, "are you saying we're destined to be wandering halves searching for the other?"

Spencer shook his head slowly, his gaze never leaving yours. "No," he said, his voice a smooth cadence. " Maybe... Maybe we already found each other."

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken sentiments. The air crackled with a tension that both terrified and exhilarated you. Your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat to the quiet reverberation of the night. Curled beside him, Spencer's arm draped casually across you, its weight a comforting presence, you drifted off to sleep.

A faint smile touched Spencer's lips as he listened to your soft snores. "Good night," he whispered into the darkness.

[shinuko]

promise ring

#: tattoo artist boyfriend!geto, fluff, gn!reader, implied college au, gojo cameo wc: 1.4k tw/cw: unusally suggestive (my brain was in the gutter…), the f word (f*ck, a couple times), use of pet names (baby, sweetheart)

“ya like it up there?” geto chuckles, setting his book down above his head. he’s lying on his back, using his hands as a pillow, as he watches you. your legs are straddling his waist and you’re tracing the tattoos that decorate his chest. you hum, curling your fingers to scratch softly at his skin. “mm…” he groans, “mercy, baby, they’re healed but still a little… mmh… tender...”

“yeah?” you tease, letting your fingers slide lower down his abdomen, “then what about here?” you’re inching closer to his waistband when he flips you over, caging you underneath him, his hand pulling you close from the small of your back. his gaze drops to your lips and he licks his hungrily. 

“fuck around and find out,” he grins, “you fucked around, so now you get to find out.” you didn’t get a chance to retort as geto quickly closes the space between you, trapping your mouth with his and hands wandering every part of your body. he’s lifting your shirt, the tantalizing skin of your stomach peeking through, and trails kisses down from your jaw to your neck, collarbone, and then chest, looking up at you before continuing any further. “this okay, sweetheart?” he presses a kiss against your stomach, “do you want me to stop?”

your fingers find his hair, keeping his head in place, and you arch your back, chasing the feeling of his lips brushing against your skin again. “no,” you breathe, “keep going.” too caught up in the pleasure rippling across your body, you don’t register the sound of the door unlocking.

“what the fuck- suguru, why didn’t you- ohhh, i see… nevermind! carry on!” gojo quickly turns on his heel and walks out, the door slamming shut behind him. geto lets his head fall into the crook of your shoulder, sighing when you leave a few comforting strokes on his hair, before heaving himself up to retrieve his roommate. after he leaves, you sit up, fixing yourself, and bring your knees up to your chest, waiting for their return. 

“honestly, satoru, why do you have a phone if you don’t even use it?” you hear geto grumble as he unlocks the door. 

“i’m sorry! i just didn’t see it! hey y/n.”

“yeah, yeah. whatever… sorry ‘bout that, baby,” he says, sitting down beside you, “looks like we got ourselves a guest.” he glares pointedly at gojo, who crosses his arms in response and sticks out his tongue at geto. 

“this ‘guest’ also happens to pay half of the rent here, you know,” gojo huffs, muttering, “i should’ve stayed in the library longer…”

“yes you should’ve, why didn’t you?” 

“because i was getting hungry and tired,” he shoots back, “anyways, let’s get takeout. what would you like to eat, y/n?” 

“oh, uh, how about sushi?”

“i want ramen.”

gojo hums, “okay, sushi it is. sprite okay with you, y/n?” tapping away at his phone, gojo quickly finishes putting in the order and rises from his spot on the couch. “i ordered it, and it's gonna be 30 minutes. please keep the noise to a minimum… i’m gonna take a nap, wake me up when it’s here.”

geto scoffs, rolling his eyes, as you laugh. the door closes behind gojo with a soft click. geto pulls out his ipad, opening the application he uses to sketch tattoo designs. you lean your head on his shoulder, peeking at the screen, and look at his drawings—this one looks to be a spine tattoo.

“is that for you?”

geto sighs, “for a client. he wanted something symbolic, has something to do with his girlfriend or something like that…”

you notice the wrinkles forming from his furrowed brows, “hm... so, what are you thinking about?”

“...tattoos based on relationships are dangerous,” he murmurs, adding more lines to his design, “and if things go wrong, it gets very difficult. i don’t understand why they would do that to themselves. don’t you think it’s stupid?.”

“i think it’s pretty sweet actually,” you say, “you’re making that conscious decision even while knowing the consequences. pretty telling about their determination and loyalty, don’t you think?”

geto hums, still touching up the design, “...if you say so, baby.”

—

“feel free to talk about something. it might help with the pain.” geto smiles sympathetically at the man lying down in the chair. 

“what… would i even talk about?” the man asks through gritted teeth. 

geto wipes away at the excess ink, examining his work, “what about why you’re getting this tattoo? you said it had something to do with your girlfriend?”

some of the pain seems to disappear from his face, and a shy smile stretches across his lips: he’s obviously lost in thought about his girlfriend. “it’s a reference to one of those k-dramas that she’s been watching lately. before we got serious, we were watching this one called ‘guardian’ something… the title is too long for me to remember,” he chuckles, “but the flower the guy gives the girl—buckwheat flowers—it means ‘lover,’ and it got me thinking about my relationship with her. and it just hit me, like, it’s her. i want to spend the rest of my life with her.”

“buckwheat flowers…” geto murmurs softly, “they mean ‘lover,’ you say?”

“yeah. at least according to the drama they do. didn’t really google it to check. and so that’s why i wanted to get that bouquet tattooed on me. it also has her favorite actor, so naturally she really loves the show too.”

“i see…” geto stops working on the tattoo completely, “i know i already asked you this before we started, but are you really sure about this tattoo? what if… things go wrong? it’s not too late, i could improvise the design right now and get you something that you might be happier with in the long run.” 

the man blinks, “no, but i understand your concern. it must be frustrating to spend hours on tattoos only for it to become meaningless the next day…” geto stays silent, staring at the quarter-finished tattoo, so the man continues, “i love her, and i’m choosing her. you know that ring ceremony thing that those engineer people have? how the ring is supposed to remind the engineer of their obligation or something like that? i want the tattoo to be like that. i want it to remind her that i’m choosing her and that i’m promising her my forever, and i want to remind myself that she’s who i want and that the thing we’ve built together is worth it for me.”

“i… never thought of it like that,” geto admits, picking the pen back up and preparing to start work again, “should i continue?”

“...how about a 5 minute break?” the man asks, tone hopeful, beads of sweat trailing down his forehead.

geto laughs, “you got it.”

—

“hey, what’s this?” you grab at geto’s hand, peering at his latest tattoo, “a line?”

“a band,” he corrects, “got a little bored at the shop today, so i just did it.”

you look up at him quizzically and he shrugs. it was a simple black stripe that went around his ring finger. flipping over his hand, his palm facing you, you continue to study the tattoo, when your eyes widen at your newest discovery. “suguru…” your voice comes barely above a whisper, and a hand comes up to cover your mouth, “my initials?”

geto glances away, cheeks flushing, as he scratches at the back of his head sheepishly, “yeah, i uh… yeah.” 

“weren’t you the one who said that people who tattoo something of their partner’s are a different level of idiotic?” you say,  quirking an eyebrow and a playful smile curling the corner of your mouth. 

geto hid his face in his other hand, “don’t remind me...”

you thumb the tattoo thoughtfully, “were you thinking about me?”

“i’m always thinking about you.”

you smile at that, meeting his steady eyes, “when you did it, i mean.”

“i don’t think that changes my answer,” geto says, raising an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes. 

you pretend to glare at him, straightening up and crossing your arms over your chest. “...just shut up and kiss me already,” you tell him, and he obliges immediately, pulling you in close and kissing your lips sweetly. coaxing your mouth open, he turns his head to deepen the kiss. he presses his forehead against yours when he pulls away, your lips parted still as you catch your breath.

“my forever,” he tells you, voice barely audible, but you can still hear him clear as day, “it’s yours.”

you smile, “i know.”

he wraps his arms around your waist, hugging you close, and rests his head on your shoulder, “and your forever is mine.”

“it is.”

koi's notes: okay but did they get the sushi though??? 🧐🧐 anyways dedicated to @omgeto and a huge thank you to emp and mothe (@planetxiao) because i love and appreciate y'all so very much

[thorin-is-a-cuddler]

Fighting the bear

A/N: Benedict and Anthony are jealous of the time their wives, you and Kate, spend together. They come up with a (not so) glorious plan to get your attention. Based on a prompt I received.

When Anthony entered the living space, he‘d certainly not expected to stumble upon Benedict peeking out one of the large windows with the curtain hiding most of his face. He furrowed his brows, waiting to be noticed, but realized after about ten seconds that it was in vain. 

He held on to his arm behind his back and shifted slightly on his feet, amusement slowly trickling down his face as he decided to speak. „Brother?“

Benedict almost ripped down the tender fabric, turning around like a rabbit who heard a dog bark, the curtain swishing almost weightlessly over his head. 

„Erm… brother!“ He answered in greeting, imitating Anthony‘s pose, hands behind back and chest jutted out, while nervously weighing up and down on his feet. His mind seemed to be galloping at high speed to come up with something to say. „What nice weather we have today, do we not? Nice indeed!“

Anthony hummed shortly in agreement, his amused eyes searching his brother‘s face to assess the situation. He walked over to the table with the afternoon biscuits to hide his smile and pour himself a cup of tea. Benedict had always been an open book. Whenever one of the brothers had played a prank in their youth, one look at Benedict‘s face had sufficed to give everything away: who had done it, when they had done it and sometimes even what they had done. 

Now was no different. 

„Tell me,“ Anthony slurred, turning around with a lazy smile, „is whatever you have been spying on, something I should rather not be telling your wife?“

Benedict stiffened with indignation. „Of course not!!“ His angry glance was burning into Anthony’s until it changed into a pensive one, his eyes looking up towards the ceiling.

„Though it is true that you should rather not tell her… but not for any such reason you might be suggesting!“ 

Anthony hummed again, the little silver spoon clinking in his tea cup. He took a long sip and made an extra loud smacking noise after he finished. Benedict‘s eyes grew narrower and narrower. The tension in the air would have been visible to anyone, like a floating purple cloud. Anthony put his tea cup back down and smiled at his brother. And then he was already dashing to the window. 

„No, Anthony!!!“ 

Benedict cursed, when his brother took a turn about the sofa to confuse him and it actually worked, the younger Bridgerton losing the chase to his former spying position at the window. 

„Well, look at that,“ the elder brother exclaimed teasingly, „our two wives conversing in the shade of the trees.“ 

Then his smirk fell and his brows grew closer together. „Our two wives conversing in the shade of the trees…“ he repeated, now with no remaining trace of amusement. 

Benedict lifted his brows and nodded. He certainly had not expected his brother to look just as disgruntled as he felt. „Again!“ He added to Anthony‘s phrase, extending his hand and stepping to the window as well, ending up shoulder to shoulder with his brother. „What is it they keep talking about? Don‘t they ever grow tired of their conversation?“

Anthony hummed, now in a much more serious manner, his hand moving to his chin to touch it cluelessly. „They spend an awful lot of time together. I wonder if they are talking about us…“

Benedict‘s eyes grew in terror. „What would they be saying?“

„How am I supposed to know?“ Anthony hissed in distress, one hand wandering to his neck tie to loosen it a little. „Is there something you did?“

„Something I did??“ Benedict fired back, his voice uncharacteristically high from a strong feeling of disbelief. „What do you suppose I should have done?? Is there something that you did??“ 

„Of course not!“ Anthony‘s eyes were burning coals, when he turned his head around. They were staring at each other with their uncomfortable, helpless fear of having disgruntled their wives, covering it up with a good portion of self-defending anger. Until Benedict moved up his eyebrows and allowed a small huff of laughter to escape his lips. He dropped his forehead on Anthony‘s shoulder and groaned.

„What are we doing? Why are we fighting? I don‘t even know what‘s going on.“ 

Anthony‘s face relaxed at Benedict‘s words and he as well was shaken by a small sound of amusement considering their behaviour. He patted Benedict‘s head on his shoulder and looked back down at their wives who were currently laughing at something. 

„We are acting like children,“ he concluded, giving Benedict a self-deprecating glance when he moved his head up again. „Did we really get this dependant on our wives since we married? Can we seriously not bear it to see them be content without us?“ 

Benedict winced at his brother‘s words. „It‘s come to this. I am jealous of your wife. Now that is a phrase, I never thought I‘d utter.“ 

Anthony chuckled quietly and bumped his shoulder against his brother’s affectionately. „If it‘s any consolation, I believe I am subject to the same affliction.“ 

Benedict grinned at him and Anthony realized that he hadn‘t been spending an awful lot of time with his younger brother recently. He looked at him with fondness and placed a hand on his shoulder. 

„You know, I don‘t think I‘ve ever truly said this to you. But you‘ve grown into quite the man.“ 

Benedict‘s eyes grew large for a second, his surprise moving his features like a curtain, revealing an unexpected fragility. Then it rushed close again, avoiding the showcase of little boy emotions and replacing them with a teasing smirk - it was the Bridgerton way to deal with emotions and Anthony could not blame him for it. „Sorry,“ Benedict snickered, holding up his left hand with the wedding ring, „I am already taken.“ 

Anthony groaned in a good-natured manner, before grabbing his brother and putting him in a headlock, making him break out into boyish giggles that he certainly hadn‘t heard in a while. 

They stumbled around the room for a while, before Benedict managed to break free, bringing the sofa between them. The jealousy of their respective wives was quite healed as they looked at each other with big grins, both gasping slightly from the effort of their rough-housing. 

„Look at that,“ Anthony laughed, putting his hands on the backrest of the silky piece of furniture between them. „We can still have fun on our own, when it‘s just the two of us.“ 

„You mean,“ Benedict clarified with a grin, „that you can still have fun by means of torturing me!“ 

Anthony clicked his tongue and shook his head at him. „Come now! I didn‘t even tickle you!“ 

Narrowing his eyes to slim slits, Benedict took on a more defensive posture. „Don‘t even think about it. I am not the least bit ticklish anymore.“

Anthony barked out a taunting laugh. „Oh, sure. Care to put that to the test?“

Benedict stood up tall and held up an index finger. „I have a way better idea.“ 

Anthony was curious enough to lend him his ear. 

—————— 

You liked Kate. You liked her very much. And you were over the moon that the two of you had married a Bridgerton and were now practically family. 

She was well-read and funny and liked to make fun of her husband as much as you did of your own. Sometimes, all it took to settle an argument you‘ve been having with your respective other (not forcibly better) halves was a chat with a good friend. And Kate was one of the best.

You‘d been enjoying the afternoon together, chatting about this and that and taking a few breaks within the house to drink a cup of tea and fetch some of the books you wanted to talk about. When, quite rudely, your peaceful conversation was interrupted. 

Wailing sounds were the first you‘d heard of them, before the pair of your husbands came into sight. Benedict was practically hanging from Anthony‘s shoulder, the older brother carrying him around the rose bushes in your direction. Red stains on both of their white shirts added up to the fright their sight installed in you. 

Kate jumped to her feet, when you were still too stunned from the horrible sounds of pain Benedict was producing to move an inch.

„What happened?“ Kate shouted, running closer to them to meet them halfway. Your wobbly legs barely allowed you to get into a standing position. In your mind you were moving through water, as you approached them.

Anthony was sweating slightly from the effort of hoisting your groaning husband through the garden. 

„We were attacked.“ He rasped out, trying to position Benedict in a slightly more comfortable position with his free arm. 

„Attacked?“ Kate asked in disbelief. „By what??“

„A dog.“ „A bear.“ The brothers responded at the same time. Anthony shot his head around to glare at Benedict who was biting his lip through his rather dramatic groaning. Quickly, the elder Bridgerton recovered from the moment of surprise. 

„He‘s hallucinating!“ He quickly shot out in an attempt to explain their differing answers. 

Kate took a step back and eyed them both suspiciously, but the concern was still visible on both your faces. „Where did this happen?“ She asked, as you tried to lift Benedict‘s head with your hands to be able to look at him directly. 

His cheeks were surprisingly cold to the touch and you did not manage to find the wound that had caused the red stains on their clothes. 

„Does it matter?“ Anthony hissed at her. „I am glad I was there to save him. The animal was big enough to resemble a small bear indeed!“ 

„You didn‘t save me,“ Benedict hissed, his stance changing slightly as did his voice. „I chased it away all by myself, you merely found me.“

With narrowed eyes you watched as Benedict sent a quick glance in your direction. Too quick for your taste. Raising a brow in Kate‘s direction you suddenly found it hard not to smirk. Kate who had already crossed her arms in front of her chest and was looking at Anthony with a rather unimpressed expression. 

„Whatever you say, Benedict,“ Anthony huffed, looking at both of you as if to say that his brother had lost a marble or two. „I‘d think it best we bring you to your room to allow you to recover.“ 

„Not before you get the story straight!“ Benedict insisted, the hand that had been holding on to Anthony‘s shoulder grabbing him by his nape now. Anthony hissed in pain and loosened his grip on his brother sufficiently to make him slide down Anthony‘s side. Benedict cursed and wrapped both arms around his brother‘s neck to keep from slipping. 

You and Kate were watching the spectacle with growing interest and lessening worry. Whatever was going on, you could not say. But you did know that your beloved husbands were acting out an embarrassing scene in front of you, one, they had apparently memorized so badly that they forgot to act altogether. 

„You are clearly not in your right mind right now,“ Anthony grumbled, wrapping his arms around his brother‘s waist to hoist him up again. „You‘re bleeding and… and the blood loss is making you foolish.“

„Foolish??“ Benedict gasped, his feet searching for solid ground in his outrage. „Who is foolish?“

„Both of you quite clearly are.“ You testified lazily, bumping your shoulder against Kate‘s. „I did not expect to ever see them ridicule themselves to such extents.“

„Neither did I, to be honest,“ she mumbled, looking on with a growing interest. „It is rather entertaining.“

„I agree,“ you responded, when Benedict‘s stained arm flung in Anthony‘s face and left a big red mark on his nose. „What do you think they used for the blood? Marmalade?“

„Oh yes, it appears so.“

„You ruined it all,“ Anthony rasped furiously, trying to free himself from Benedict‘s grip and simultaneously wiping at his face. 

„I did??“ Benedict growled, keeping Anthony in half a headlock himself by this point. „You had to go off about being the hero of the day! You made me look weak!“

„Ohh, you want to look weak??“

You raised your brows in amusement, when Anthony‘s fingers started digging into your husband‘s ribs, making the younger Bridgerton gasp, before he practically started howling with laughter. 

„NO DON‘T!!“ 

Retrieving his arms from around Anthony‘s neck, he tried to brush the other‘s hands off his middle, but was twitching and cackling too hard to manage any coordinated movement. 

„ANTHONY NO!!“ He wheezed with laughter, as his brother managed to force him to the ground, the unfortunate position leaving him exposed to Anthony’s mercy. 

„I thought you said you weren‘t ticklish anymore!“ The elder Bridgerton teased with a mischievous smirk, dwelling in the raucous laughter of his younger brother. 

„That is clearly not the case.“ You chuckled, raising your shoulders cluelessly when Kate sent you a look that basically asked what on earth was happening. 

„I suppose these two needed some time alone.“ You concluded, warmth filling your chest at the thought of the brothers spending some quality time together - without their wives. 

„(Y/N)!!!“ Benedict got out between breathless giggles, „HELP ME!!! PLEASE!!“ 

You chuckled, all anger at the shock the brothers had installed within you wiped away in a single blow. 

„Am I to save you from the bear now?“

Kate laughed at your words and waggled her brows. „I think I can be of bigger support in this situation.“

Anthony shot his head around at his wife’s words and suddenly jumped off his brother like a cat that got in contact with water, when Kate stalked towards them.

„NO!“ He simply yelled, before taking off, practically running away from his wife, who - never one to shy away from a challenge - chased right after him. 

Benedict remained gasping on the ground, his cheeks reddened from laughter and his eyes reflecting the glow that came with the tears mirth could bring about.

You bit down on your lip to keep from smiling and quickly walked over to drop down on top of him, chuckling when he held up his arms defensively. „No more, please!! No more!“

Grinning from ear to ear, you took his hands to interlock your fingers. „I think you‘ve suffered quite enough revenge for your little prank.“ 

Sheepishly your husband groaned at your words, closing his eyes and tilting back his head. „It sounded like the perfect plan to get your attention, back when we came up with it.“

„That‘s because you turn into a ninnyhead, when you and your brother are together.“

With a grin you took in your husband‘s indignation.

„Did you just call me a ninnyhead?“

„The loveliest ninnyhead of all!“

Benedict squinted his eyes at you and tried to come up with a retort. Quickly he realized that he had none and instead broke out into soft chuckles. He removed his hands from your grasp and brought them to your hips to pull you even closer to him, your fingers moving to his face to caress his cheeks. „Is it a crime that I was dying to get your attention?“

„Not at all. It was simply ridiculous. Especially the part with the marmalade!“ 

Benedict shook his head at himself and even blushed a little. „I suppose love makes you do silly things.“

You smiled at him, bending down to join your lips together. „Love does. Your love for me surely. But apparently brotherly love is not to be excluded.“

Benedict snorted, but his eyes revealed the truth of your words. He would always be Anthony‘s little brother. And that bond was no less important than the one you two shared. 

[itstheghostofmypast]

His Honeybee

Draco Malfoy x (f)Reader

Summary: She was as sweet as honey, as warm as the sun, and as bright as the colour yellow, that would always have his legs turn to jello. Her love for him was as vast as the sea, she was his honeybee.

Genre: Fluff (a tinge of angst)

Warnings: None

A/N: I swear I'm still try na catch up with my requests but please bear with me, I need to get this stuff out of my system from time to time to relax. Please remember to show some love by ❤️ and reblogs.

With a small huff, he dropped his bag, eyes as clear as the lake before him, watching it glimmer under the rising sun. The mist around them had settled to a low veil, only adding to the chilly sensation, nipping at the tip of his ears.

Slowly, he settled down beside a warmer body, moving closer to welcome the furnace-like warmth, earning a small chuckle from the person beside him, his hand reaching to grab onto its counterpart, another half, to complete the puzzle, her hand.

"Didn't I tell you to wear a cap?"

Her voice was barely above a whisper, eyes never leaving the book, colouring book? It was at this point that his gaze moved from her alluring side profile to her lap, noticing the coloured pencils and markers on the other side in an unzipped pouch, then the book in her lap, watching her colour an abnormally large, unrealistic, geometric flower.

"Didn't I tell you it'll mess up my hair." his words came out a bit colder than he had intended to, the irritation in his tone was evident, but it was not because of her, never because of her. It was just the cold and the lack of attention he was being provided, but he didn't want her to think it was her fault, he had always tried to be gentle with her, and a tender undertone would resurface from within him around her.

"Even the one I knitted for you?" she pouted turning to look at him properly, a small gasp escaping her lips as she noticed the little kisses and nips left by Lady Winter herself, all across his face, the pink tips of his ears to the way his cheeks were splattered with pink and the tip his nose of a cute little rosy colour. "You look like you're freezing." she huffed letting go of his hand, much to his disapproval, turning to fish for something in her bag.

"You didn't knit me any....thing" his words slowly died off when she pulled out a woollen cap, with two strings on each side, it was by far the ugliest thing he had ever seen. It was by no means extraordinary, it was in no way a fashion statement or elegant, it was a simple, peasant-like - border line muggle-like- woollen cap.

"Tada! I did, " she gleamed before showing him another one, "For both of us." it was only then that he noticed the finer details about the caps, each had a customised trait. One of the caps was completely green, and in the centre was a woollen heart in yellow, while the other had a yellow base and a green heart in the centre- same design, inverted colours.

"Oh" his insult stopped before it could pour out, luckily the gears in his head had worked fast enough for it to click, their house colours and if he knew her like the back of his hand, which he did, she was going to give him the ghastly yellow one with the green heart and keep the green one with the yellow heart for herself.

"This one" Turning her upper body towards him, her hand reached up to his hair, fingers running through his hair, his eyes instinctively closing at the tender action, letting her touch and mess about his neatly styled hair, anyone else would've been burnt to death, but she wasn't just anyone. He hummed at her little comment about liking his new haircut, his bangs adding a nice flair to his aura, whatever that meant. A few minutes in and he had forgotten why she had begun to gently comb through his hair, basking in the oh-so-needed attention he had woken up early in the morning in the first place for, the need of attention that had him trudging through the damp, cold forest all the way to her, in their little corner, their little lake, just to be with her. An affectionate sensation faded away when he felt something warm sit atop his head, covering his ears, though the slightly itchy sensation forced him to snap his eyes open.

"There." tying up the two strings attached to each end of the earpiece, into a pretty bow she moved back to admire her work. His face had turned warmer, not because of the itchy woollen cap, but her little gesture, her look of admiration as if he were the prettiest thing in the world.

"Why...is it...yellow?" looking at anything but her face he mumbled out a question, he knew which one was his before she had even worded it out, but he couldn't figure out the ideology.

"Well" putting on her cap, leaving the strings undone, she smiled at him, "Because my heart is surrounded by you, everywhere I look, I see things that remind me of you like take this place, it's quiet and peaceful, and it's ours, I found this place because it reminded me of you, how you like quiet places, places where you are free from prying eyes, everywhere I go, I see you, like this lake, it's like I'm looking into your eyes, the way it sparkles under the sun reminds me of how your eyes twinkle in potions class when we learn something new, or how when we go to the library, the section way at the back, with the books no one touches, reminds me of the ample knowledge you have on topics I couldn't even think of, how you're so much smarter than everyone, yet, no one approaches you for help out of hesitance, just how no one goes at the back old isle." her eyes caught how a small smile had made its way on his face, how he was now holding onto her hand again, "That's why my heart is surrounded by you. I hope...yours is surrounded by me." peaking up at him, as he turned his face around, hiding his expressions from her, a part of her wanted to tease him for being shy, but perhaps that was for another time. Instead, she settled back down after hearing a faint whisper, "Of course, mine too, is surrounded by you, silly girl."

"Good." with that she let go of his hand and went back to colouring, letting a comfortable silence settle between the two.

It took him a good ten minutes to calm down, her little confession had his chest hammering against the walls of his chest, demanding to be set free so it could nestle in the warm, tender palm of hers, all pretty and all hers. He knew his palm was sweaty against hers, and he prayed to God that she wouldn't continue with her teasing, knowing fully well he'd either snap in retaliation or just run away to cry in joy somewhere in a corner. The noise of his pesky, beating heart rang in his ears, constantly reminding him of his undying love for her. After the ringing dyed out his attention turned towards the scratching sound, noticing the bold choice of colours she was using to colour the unrealistic flower, his curiosity no longer being confined by his sense of logic as it slipped out,

"Why are you colouring?"

"It's therapeutic."

"Colouring like a child ?"

"Hmm, it's designed for an older audience."

"So colouring is a nice way to relax?"

"Mhmmm..." Pulling out another colour she glanced at him, "What do you do to relax?"

What did he do to relax? Most of the time he'd be too frustrated with his father and grades to even care to relax. If he did ever get a moment of peace, it was with her. As she had mentioned before, he was surrounded by her, his senses were flooded with her presence, he'd be thinking about her more often these days, perhaps because winter break was upon them. Winterbreak meant that the two would have to part, he'd go back home to his cold mansion and she'd go back to her loving parents. Parents who knew he existed, unlike his own, who had no idea who she was or if she existed, perhaps if he could build the courage this time, he might tell them, he was after all in his 6th year.

"Draco?"

"I sketch." the words left him sooner than he expected, it wasn't his fault though, he was too distracted by her curious eyes, her inviting scent, her warm and tender aura, his brain would often short-circuit around her, and this was one of those times.

"Ah...that's nice, I've never seen any of your sketches before." she giggled, once again letting go of his hand to turn to her bag, missing the way he shrugged with a "Burn them afterwards."

"Well" turning to him she handed him her sketchbook and pencils, "Don't burn this one, I wanna keep it safe and close to me." she smiled at his surprised eyes, adding in a little "Please" Much to his pleasure, for she knew that would make him all putty and it did.

A few beats of silence later, all that could be heard was the gentle sounds of nature waking up around them, the sun ever so slowly waltzing up higher into the sky, trying to own the cold floor with its glow and warmth within the winter sky. The birds would often change the tune around them, from a soft melody to a high-pitched orchestra of chirps, much to their pleasure, this was what he loved most about spending time with her, everything would be so pleasant, so calming and so warm, caressing his soul with such a tender delicate touch, allowing him to bask in her presence, a feeling he wanted to lounge in for almost all of eternity if it were possible.

Ever so often she'd notice him glance at her, then look ahead, unsure of whether he wanted to ask her something, or tell her. Truth be told, she had been meaning to ask him something, something about them, but perhaps she was too afraid to do so, afraid that it would scare him away. It took so long for him to open up to her, even after they had become an official couple, at least official enough for their close friends to know, but she knew his parents were not aware of her presence. She never brought it up, even after she had introduced him to hers, admiring how he was able to hold up a conversation with her father, gushing over the way he was being forced to eat more by her mother after he had complimented her cooking. She thanked him with her whole being when he had told her how he felt about her home that night, when he lay next to her, snuggled under the covers with her on her cramped single bed in matching pyjamas, "It isn't special, but I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world...it's warm...and nice...mine is...cold. I like it here, I like being here with you."

A part of her wanted to ask him if he'd ever want to be with her outside of school, or what would happen to them after their school years came to an end. Would their relationship cease to exist? Would their love turn into a bundle of memories they'd turn to in their darkest times? Would she just be his secret lover he was destined to leave? Perhaps she felt this way due to the upcoming winter break, all these questions finally bottling up to the max, ready to spill over. But she couldn't, she had to be careful, for she knew no matter how cold or tough he would act, he was but a fragile soul, always yearning for the approval of his parents, for their love and admiration, especially his father's, one he barely received. So, she had to be careful and phrase it properly, because even if he feared his father, she was terrified of the man, she had seen him only a handful of times at school and if there was one thing she was sure about was that other than muggles, he hated Hufflepuffs as well. Maybe their love was short-lived, maybe she should prepare herself for the day he'd let her go, because in this situation it was not the "It's not you it's me", since it wasn't him, he was perfect in all and every sense, but it was her if she wasn't sorted in Hufflepuff, she was from a more prominent family if she was...perfect like him, maybe, then just maybe, their fates could have intertwined till eternity, if only the stars had, for once, listened to her and not decided for her, it only.

"Oh" his gasp broke her train of thought, "I'm late for practice!" he shot up, looking down at her, who was staring up at him like a deer caught in headlights, face flushed, her cap now covering her forehead, as she blinked up at him. Letting out a chuckle he bent down to brush his slightly chapped lips against hers, fingers gently gripping her chin, tilting her head to look up at him, "I've made up my mind, my honeybee, come with me this winter break, I...I don't know what to expect, but I know for sure I want you in my life, whether anyone likes it or not." With that, he knelt one last time to give her a proper kiss, "Finish your colouring, you've been on the same petal for an hour."

"Draco! Wait!" she called out, only for him to turn his head and give her that heart-stopping smile, winking at her before running off to the schoolyards, not waiting for her to speak.

"You're still wearing the....cap." she sighed before letting out a nervous chuckle, well then, at least one thing was clear, his parents may not need to wait till winter break to find out about their boy's heart belonging to a Hufflepuff, especially when his entire Quidditch team would see him in his woollen cap. Shaking her head, she turned to grab the sketchbook flipping it over to look at what he had been sketching, a soft gasp leaving her lips, as her fingers dug into the paper, eyes turning glossy at the sight. For more than an hour, he had sat there, sketching her, from every dimple to strand of hair, the details added in just made her wonder who he had sketched, for this ethereal being could not have been her. That is until she read the little sign off underneath, "My precious honeybee."

[merbear25]

Enjoying the little things

There's never a dull moment when you're with him even on days that are calmer than others. On days like these, small flickers of his inner thoughts give you a deeper understanding of him.

Zoro, Mihawk, Sanji, Law

CW: SFW, gn!reader, established relationship, headcanons + drabbles.

Zoro: training in the early morning, the brisk breeze, a chill in the air. He enjoys waking up and being productive when the rest are still sound asleep. It gives him the feeling of having the upper hand. When there's a chill in the air, it hitches his breath, reminding him to maintain his breath control. The brisk breeze feels nice against his skin as he's training, acting like a natural cooling system.

You asked to accompany him on one of his early training sesssions, of course, already knowing you'd have to wake up before the crack of dawn. He agreed to let you tag along but added that he didn't want to hear any complaining about how early it'd be or tired you'd feel. Crossing your heart, you gave him your word that you'd be on your best behavior.

Waking up the next day was showing to be difficult though, while you weren't, and would never be, a morning person. Despite your sluggish steps getting out of bed, you put on a good face when you noticed Zoro, who was already geared up to set out for the day.

Taking a double take, your body language was hinting to him that you were probably going to be a thorn in his side this morning. Paying it no mind, he gestured for you to come to the upper deck of the Sunny. You simply nodded while trying to hide the regret on your face.

However, you would have never guessd how grateful you would be to see him with the soft glow of the morning sun speckling his sunkissed body. After each set, his usually furrowed brow was instead eased, and his walls appeared to lower to the gentle breeze of the ocean air.

"You're staring at me," his even tone broke the silence of the new day. "Why?" You didn't have much of a response so blurted out the first thing that came to mind that being that he looked unbelievably handsome. In saying this, you couldn't have predicted any other reaction out of him—he went rimson. Averting his eyes from the sudden shock of your blaten honesty, he could barely utter a 'thanks' before continuing his regime.

Mihawk: the crackling of a fire, sunsets, clear nights. He likes being under the stars and how they, as well as the moon light his way. Sunsets bring a peaceful end to the day, covering the sky and illuminating rooms with its soft color. The fire supplies warmth, not just with heat, but also in atmosphere. The crackling brings a sense of liveliness to the cold interior of the castle.

Sitting in the study together was one of your favorite ways to spend time with him. It was almost routine at this point to end the day by joining him infront of the fireplace, each of you curled up with your own book. Even though the castle was built from cold bricks and stone, the fireplaces throughout it gifted the both of you with comfort.

The natural light of the day was dimming to pinks and oranges, letting the fire become more prominent within the room. Embers from tonight's flames were rather lively: the wood splintered and cracked. Feeling the roasted firewood on your person, you affectionately shifted your gaze to him.

His intense stare had been softened by its brilliancy; exhailing, the moon's illuminating beams entranced him next. He must have known you were watching him, though he refrained from calling attention to it. While your eyes kept on him, you saw slight alterations in his stoic stature: his lips twitched at the corners, his eyelids lifted and lowered more slowly, and his chest rose and fell at a much steadier pace, as if he was admiring something in the distance, just outside the window.

When he finally decided to acknowledge your gaze, you didn't shy away from it, and he didn't ask why you were watching him. Instead, you let the tender love you had for him be expressed through a knowing smile. The corners of his mouth were faintly tugged, almost resembling one in return.

Sanji: sunrises, the smell of coffee and tea, sharing a meal. The shades of orange, pink, and purple remind him of the love and passion he has always had for his friends and dreams. The smell of coffee and tea awaken his senses, sharing a meal gives him a sense of gratitude that he has people to eat around the table with.

Sanji was one of the first of the crew to wake up, afterall, he was in charge of feeding everyone. However, you were there to greet him in the kitchen this morning. Having already started the coffee, you thoughtfully asked how he'd like it. Seeing you this early was a lovely surprise.

He'd tried insisting on you letting him prepare the drinks, but you reassured him that you could manage making the coffee just fine. Upon joining him at the table, you noticed a sincerity to him that you hadn't come across before. With the warmth of dawn peaking in through the window, you wondered if he'd always had this side to him that perhaps you overlooked. Either way, you couldn't help returning his peaceful gaze.

Reaching out to hold your hand, he made sure to thank you. To you the gesture of making coffee was so minute, although it seemed from his appreciation, that it really is the thought that counts. Returning his love with a light squeeze of his hand, he scanned the slight waves of the sea. The tones of pink and orange were now mixing into purple.

"Aren't sunrises beautiful?" he asked in a rosey tone. Before agreeing with him, you admired the man, his eyes being filled with hope and joy. You added that they're much more beautiful when enjoying them with someone you care about. Turning to you, he was grateful for having shared this morning with you.

Law: the creaking of branches, rustling of leaves, crickets chirping. These serve as a reminder of the different forms of life that make up our world. Nature is a majestic force, and although it can be frightening at times, it means he's never truely alone. There is a sort of comfort in knowing this.

The day had shown to be a taxing one. Having accomplished far less than he'd wanted to, he excused himself to his study to reevaluate his approach. The Polar Tang was to stay docked at the island's port until the crew was able to gather the necessary items and information they'd originally set out for, which meant being tied to an island as breathtaking as this one until further notice.

There was a steady wind that night: the branches of the surrounding trees were swaying, their leaves accompanying them in rustling. Peace and tranquilty were gradually replacing the qualms of the disappointing day. Looking around, you just came to the realization that you hadn't seen Law since reboarding the submarine.

Taking it upon yourself to check up on the most likely sulking captain, you began making your way to where he said he'd be. Upon reaching it, however, you were met with a vacant room. Running through all of the other locations he could be, you settled on checking on deck again.

Low and behold, there he was, seemingly brooding against the railing. When you approached him, you noticed that his eyes were shut, and although his eye brows weren't eased, his breaths were drawn out in an unagitated manner. It was then that your ears caught on to the distant sound of chirping from crickets. Even with the rustling of the leaves and creaking of the branches, the song of those insects could still be heard.

He opened one eye to measure you up, but closed it again when you placed your hands on the railing, looking out dreamily at the darkened forest. The energy being released from Law was the exact opposite of earlier. Without having to say anything, you understood that there was a comfort he found in nature. You didn't want to ruin his rarely peaceful demeanour, so you just let yourself enjoy the scenery with him in silence.

[frost-queen]

Bodyguarded // part 2 (Reader!Grimes x Daryl Dixon)

Requested by: @deansapplepie, Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly @denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury,  @imagines-by-her,  @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn, @strangerthingslover69, @ankhmutes, @yoowhatthefuck, @sseleniaa

Summary: Daryl and you bond more, but Shane can't seem to stop bothering you. His power act over your playing out. With your brother haven risen from the dead will Shane take a step back? [ read part 1 & part 3 & part 4 & part 5 & part 6 & part 7]

“Keep your hand steady.” – Daryl said as his fingers trailed over yours. You were looking at him as he noticed it. With a gentle nudge against your chin, he turned your head. – “Eyes forwards.” – he stated. You nodded willingly trying to supress a smile. You kept your focus to the front as Daryl’s hand went under yours, supporting the gun in your hand.

He neared as you felt his body close in on you. His cheek close to yours. He moved his hand to the top of the gun. – “Try looking for a steady aim.” – he informed you. His hand let go of the gun, pointing at the overly big target up ahead. Seeing how it had set it up made you snort loud. – “What?” – Daryl asked confused with furrowed brows.

You lowered the gun, turning more towards him as you had to break it to him. – “Oh Daryl.” – you began with a breathless laugh. – “What?” – Daryl repeated. You swayed your arm over his shoulder pulling him closer to you. – “My brother is a cop. I know how to shoot sweetheart.” – you confessed with a dazzling smile. – “I mean was…” – you corrected yourself letting your arm fall from around him. – “How come you don’t have a gun?” – Daryl questioned loudly. Finding it very odd. You could’ve easily been an asset in keeping walkers at bay.

You took a deep sigh. – “Well you know Shane. He doesn’t like me holding a gun.” – you told him. Daryl took a deep annoyed sigh. – “But you can always teach me if you like?” – you proposed having rested your hand on his chest. – “It’s no fun now.” – Daryl answered bothered. You grabbed him by his shirt, pulling him nose to nose with you. – “We can always make it fun.” – you replied teasingly. Daryl grabbed your face, pushing your head a bit back.

“Why don’t you show me how you shoot. Sweetheart.” – he added teasingly. Before you could utter another word he spun you around. Pushing you a bit forwards by a push on your bottom. Looking over your shoulder, you gave him a soft glare. Daryl leaned back, chuckling. – “I need to know you’ve got my back.” – he said jokingly. You turned back raising the gun. Bang. Bang. Bang. Three shots were fired in the bag.

You stepped aside to show Daryl. Daryl looked surprised seeing how you had shot the three bullets in a way they looked like a triangle shape was matched in the bag. – “Do I get a reward now?” – you questioned. – “Not bad.” – Daryl responded nearing you. Playfully you shoved Daryl away acting as if it annoyed you. Daryl chuckled grabbing you from behind. Wrapping his arms around you.

His body pressed against your back as his head rested on your shoulder. – “I expect a higher praise from you.” – you said chuckling. Daryl left a tender kiss on your shoulder. – “Or you could continue that.” – you said making Daryl lift his head up with a smirk. He left another tender kiss on your shoulder. Following on to kiss your neck tenderly. Kissing his way up as you tilted your head to the side.

You turned around tapping your lips invitingly. Daryl quirked his eyebrow up. – “Now you are over-doing it Y/n.” – he said turning his head away. You could only stare at him shockingly. Daryl’s lips curled up into a smile as he grabbed a hold of you, kissing you full on the lips.

Daryl and you parted as he nudged you to walk. The two of you made you way back to the others. – “What’s Shane’s deal with you anyways?” – he asked. – “You tell me! I have no idea why he is being such an ass towards me.” – you explained half shouting out the words. – “I hate how he acts towards Carl.” – you continued. – “Like he never had a dad? Honestly Shane is a mystery to me. It’s not like I knew him very well before all this, but now… it seems like he is meddling a bit too much in my family’s life.” – you told Daryl who was listening tentatively.

You sighed loud. Daryl and you emerged from the woods coming back to camp. Dale stood on the caravan, waving at Daryl. – “Duty calls.” – Daryl said to you. You watched him go all smiling. Then you gasped loud feeling the gun being pulled aggressively out of your hands.

“Where did you steal this?” – Shane called out holding the gun up. You had turned around in shock, startled by his sudden closeness to you. – “I didn’t…” – you answered still half in shock. – “Don’t lie to me! You stole this bloody gun. Do you think you are brave enough to shoot it?” – he mocked causing a scene. Noticing how everyone at camp was looking your way. – “You think this is a kid’s toy?” – Shane called out waving the gun around. - “Shane!” – Lori snapped at him, eyeing the curious eyes around him and you.

Shane looked all smug. – “If you want to play guns, we’ll play guns Y/n!” – he grabbed you by the back of your neck, pushing your head down. – “Auntie Y/n!” – Carl shouted out as Lori held him back. – “No Carl! She needs to taught a lesson.” – Shane shouted at him. – “Shane!” – you cried out in agony trying to get his grip off you. Shane saw Daryl storm over, making him aim the gun at him.

“No more protecting her.” – he told him clear. Daryl stopped with a glare. – “I didn’t steal it!” – you called out trying to reason with him. – “Liar!” – Shane yelled at you, pulling a bit at your hair. – “Shane let her go.” – Carol said calmly. – “Shane… Shane…” – Carol kept trying to ask for his attention wanting to tone his temper down.

“Look at Carl.” – she said gesturing at Carl. Shane turned his head seeing how Lori held Carl tight. His cheeks stained with tears. His lips pouting as it hurt his little heart to see Shane hurt you like that. – “Please…” – Carol begged. Shane inhaled deeply through his nose. Suddenly aiming the gun at your head. – “No!” – Carl cried out leaping forwards as Lori had to hold him tighter. Daryl wanted to rush over as Shane stopped him.

“I’ll fire if you come near Dixon!” – he shouted making Daryl stop mid-track. – “Shane put the gun down!” – Lori said loudly hoping she could talk him out of it. You were panting, feeling the tip of the gun press against the back of your head. Bend over you felt your blood go for your head. Shane’s hand still on your neck. – “Not so talkative are we now?” – Shane said to you. Carl was crying his eyes out.

“Are… are you really going to shoot me in front of Carl?” – you breathed out. Daryl tried taking a step closer but Shane was on to him. It made Daryl clench his jaw. – “Shane!” – Lori snapped at him. Shane looked up to her seeing how angry she was looking at him. He started to chuckle slowly removing the gun from against your head. – “I was just playing.” – he said holding the gun up.

The moment you didn’t feel his grip on you anymore, you ran off. Tears in your eyes as this was too much. Shane had crossed a line. Hard. – “Y/n!” – Daryl called out running after you. Lori let go of Carl walking over to Shane. – “It was just a joke.” – he told her chuckling. Lori slapped him across the face. – “A damn cruel one!” – she answered angry. You kept running tears running down your cheek. Never did you think Shane was capable of actually holding a gun up to your head.

The seriousness in his voice frightened you. For a moment you really did think he was going to shoot you in front of everyone. – “Y/n!” – Daryl panted out having come after you. He had followed you into the woods. You weren’t listening to him, wondering off too far. – “Y/n!” – Daryl repeated loud quickening up his pace. The tears were running down your face making you sob breathlessly.  You called it out when two arms wrapped around you.

Stopping your mindless running. – “Y/n! Y/n stop.” – Daryl said holding you tight as you tried freeing yourself from him. Sobbing loud you eased down feeling worn out. The energy left your body making you sunk through your knees. Daryl went down with you, keeping you in his arms. Turning your face a bit, you pressed it against his arm, crying your eyes out.

He comforted you, remaining silent as he knew cursing at Shane wouldn’t do you any good now. It took you a lot of effort to get back to camp. You didn’t want to be there knowing Shane was there. Also the fact that everyone had seen it made it even more uncomfortable. You decided to go to the lake sitting by the water.

“Auntie Y/n!” – Carl cried out making you turn your head. He came running over as you got up. His body slammed against yours, arms going round you. He was sobbing loud as you soothed him. – “I’m okay Carl.” – you told him, knowing how frightened he must have been. Carl hugged you tighter, pressing his cheek against your stomach. That night slept Carl in your tent. Partly because you didn’t want to be alone and because he wanted to protect you.

The next morning you all got startled at Glenn honking loud. He had been out for a run, only having returned now. Glenn got out of the car all happy and relieved. Everyone made their way over to him to greet him as it had been a few days since they saw him. You kept your distance a bit, gulping when you noticed Shane coming to stand beside you. – “One day there will be no one around to protect you.” – he said to you. It made you swallow frightened. – “What is your deal against me Shane?” – you asked boldly having enough of his power plays.

He turned his posture more to you taking a deep breath. – “Your attitude!” – he made clear. – “My attitude?” – you repeated confused. You turned more to Shane as well, standing in front of him. You stared at him feeling there was more to it. – “Do… do you feel threatened by me?” – you asked him. Shane laughed mockingly. – “You are NOTHING to me!” – he made clear with a deadly stare. Agitated you wanted to shove him. Shane grabbed a hold of your wrist, twisting it to the side.

“Shane?” – both of you heard clear. It made the two of you look to the side. Your eyes widening. – “Rick?” – you gasped out in shock. Carl was clinging onto him. His other arm around Lori. – “Y/n!” – Rick said relieved as he removed himself from Lori and Carl. Shane let go of your arm aggressively. Rick had seen it making him go up to Shane. – “Why were your hands on my sister?” – he asked calmly but with a soft glare.

Shane puffed loud walking off. Rick stood stunned and baffled at Shane’s behaviour. – “Rick?” – you said again touching his shoulder. Touching him made it all real. Rick turned to you with a relieved smile. The two of you embraced strongly. – “I thought you were dead.” – you told him. – “So did I.” – he answered.

He pulled away touching your face. – “How I am glad to see you alive and well sister.” – he told you making you smile between your tears. A surprise touch made you squeal soft. Carl having wrapped his arms around the both of you. – “Now we are a family again.” – he said happily. – “Yeah we are.” – Rick answered rubbing his hand through his hair. Lori glanced over to Shane seeing how jealous he looked. He brushed it off by walking off the minute he saw the meaning of Lori’s eyes.  

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[chinolondoner]

Author looking for readers

I'm not sure of the best way of getting people interested in the work of an unknown writer...

Plopped down in the middle of a tropical, Latin American setting, Lullaby for Bishop is set to be a hard-boiled detective series with four main characters: a veteran private investigator in the twilight of his career; a muscle-bound professional wrestler fulfilling one of his pivotal, childhood ambitions of solving strange and wild mysterious; as well as a pair of rumbunctious, teenage, high school girls constantly causing a scene and tagging along for the thrills.

You can preview the first half of chapter one further down below and catch up on the remainder, along with the totality of chapters two and three, all completely for free if you visit my Patreon. It's going to be a little while before this first book in the series is actually finished and officially published, but I feel the smarter move would be to try and elevate as much of a buzz for the featured world and characters before then as possible. I also plan to put out additional pre-release chapters in the near future (likely three at a time). If I have somehow managed not to bore you and you're still eagerly reading, then I do hope you enjoy the launching meta in this tender work in progress and stick around for future updates. Thank you for your interest!

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Chapter One

Nervously, Donny Boy had begun rubbing his fingers on the back of his neck, seated patiently a narrow foot away from the front of the desk while waiting for our bastard detective to stumble back into his office, suddenly realizing that the price tag had not yet been plucked away or removed from the fanciful hat he was wearing and was still dangling off the rounded edge of the brim.

Looking around the room for a trash bin he could use, Donny Boy's eyes gradually panned across the office, taking note of a few of the usual mosquitoes left splattered on the frosted, scarlet-lettered glass on the door. Dizzying groves of zigzagged patterns tying in the décor on the wallpaper, he spotted an old, unused desk tucked-away in the far, opposite corner of the room, heavy with dust and weighed down by sprawling stacks of postcards and unrecycled newspapers.

His wandering eyes glancing up the rearing rays of shattered sunlight filling in through the narrow, broken blinds on the window, Donny Boy had noticed the row of fancy kettlebells neatly arranged across a flat and sturdy, iron bench scooted against the wall, a dirty, rolled-up yoga mat, along with this stationary, exercise bike for the purposes of one's daily, cardio workout.

Looking up at the rougher dust build up over the years along the edges of the blades on the ceiling fan, Donny Boy was suddenly lured back from his current distractions after Detective Howl Bishop slid back into his office, tossing a used washrag onto his desk after wiping his face and smelling of minty, nicotine gum and aftershave.

“So, what do I call you, kid?” Howl had asked while taking a seat in his chair behind his desk.

“Don should be perfect. Growing up, my next-door neighbor used to call me Donny Boy.”

“Donny Boy, huh?” Howl fought against his urges to fidget with a stack of papers in his drawer. “Sounds good to me, kid. So… are you some sort of circus performer or something?”

“I'm not sure I know what you mean…”

“Your arms… They're freaking huge!”

“Oh… Yeah… I do struggle at times finding clothes that can fit me properly. Also, I wasn't really sure whether or not I should've worn a suit jacket.”

“Yes…” Howl would peek over the top of his desk and study Donny Boy up and down, a salient tone of fascination in his voice. “You really are quite the physical specimen, aren't you?”

“I suppose I do enjoy a good workout,” Donny Boy replied, a little bit bashful.

“You do have a basic understanding of the type of job you're here applying for today, don't you?” Howl asked.

“I believe so… The ads in the newspaper said Experienced private investigator in search of young and capable partner…”

“That's right. And being a private eye, it's important to have a plethora of tools at your modest disposal. One of those tools being the ability to effortlessly mesh into your surroundings. It's important not to stand out too much when in a public crowd or when casually photographing somebody's license plate from across the road. At the moment, I'm having some doubts on that possibly being a strong suit of yours given your current… how should I say… physique.”

“Oh… Well, to be completely honest with you, Mr. Bishop, I haven't even paused to consider that as a possibility.”

“Yeah, well, thinking a few steps ahead is also an invaluable tool to have.”

With more than a quarter of a century of busy detective work under his belt, his hair having grown white as Winter's ashes and the once buoyant Spring in his footsteps having lost some of its feather throughout the years, Howl Bishop was originally from the lands of sunny, Southern California, born on a weekday in a rushed and overcrowded hospital in the blighted city of Los Angeles.

Brought up in a bohemian household, Howl's anxious mother was a failed, Hollywood actress turned “new-age” healer and father was a meddling screenwriter that had spent more of his time obsessing over the quality of the ink in his typewriter than ever inundating his children with any orderly grants of wisdom.

Standing at six-foot even in height, a strong, conquering jaw and with an even tan across his arms and facial features, Howl was one of the many foreign expats sailing over from the States in purge of more permanent roots in Pan de Leones. Old, brown, leather belt holding up his wide, beige-colored slacks, Howl always wore floral, Hawaiian shirts when in settled eye of the public, mixtures of white and pink and with a couple of loose buttons up toward the collar.

With his sharp, Anglo features and light attire, it was entirely common to mistake Howl Bishop for a possible tourist visiting Latin America for the first time, sightseeing across the country and falling for obvious scams at the nearby market. That is, of course, until one caught an initial glimpse of Howl's encyclopedic knowledge of the city's urban layout and sprawling geography, along with his ease of verbal fluency when communicating in Spanish, often conversating with local barkeeps and store merchants on objects ranging from the wise and esoteric to the lurched, mind-numbing, and trivial.

“I would like to procure a general gauge on how comfortable you might be interacting with the more unsavory avenues of human society,” Howl would lean back into his seat and ask, clamping his hands together and placing his palms over his stomach.

“Could you be more specific?”

“In such line of work, one all too often will find themselves having to calmly intermingle with unrested eyes of broken glass and scoundrels. Do you possess any real-world experience dealing with scum and the morally compromised?”

“Uhm…” Donny Boy appeared curtailed by Howl's question, unsure of how to respond. “I once dated a girl that refused to pay off her parking tickets,” he said.

Without managing to reply, Howl simply stared in confusion from his seat across the desk, reevaluating his initial impressions on the kid. Then, squinting his eyelids a little, he felt inclined to change the current subject and asked, “I don't mean to suddenly swerve off topic, but… have we met before?”

“What?”

“Well, I'm looking at your face, right now, and… I can't help but get the feeling that this isn't the first time that we've been in the same room. Do we know each other?”

“I do not believe we have ever met, Mr. Bishop,” Donny Boy was quick to point out in response, laughing out loud a little to himself while nervously shuffling around in his seat. “I've always done alright remembering faces and my mother had always told me it was rude to forget someone's name.”

“Hmm… I guess in my advanced age, my average perception of things has grown a bit muddy. I suppose I simply must be confusing you for somebody else.”

Wide, rugged shoulders, preposterous arms, and with a large, outward, and muscular chest, Donny Boy was young and handsome and had shaded, bronze-colored skin. His lightly brushed hair was a wild, sunflower-blonde of which he maintained in perfect tinge and kept the darker shadows of his roots regularly dyed. Along with the fancy, finely tailored fedora resting on his head, the crumpled price tag of which he had just recently stuffed into his pocket, Donny Boy wore a normal pair of rectangular, blue-framed eyeglasses, granting him a bit of a barbarous librarian kind of a look.

Dark eyebrows and with the small patch of facial hair on his chin routinely trimmed, Donny Boy had entered the office wearing a short-sleeved, white, button-up shirt, the generous, overfed muscles of his upper body appearing to want to tear through the clothing and with a clean pair of ruby-red suspenders attached to the waistline of his denim-blue slacks, tugged and strapped-up over his mountainous shoulders. He also had on a dorky, red bowtie for the occasion.

“How old are you, Donny Boy?”

“I'm twenty-eight years old, Mr. Bishop.”

“And what's your sleep schedule like?”

“Excuse me?”

“Your sleep schedule. Have you developed the habit of going to bed around the same time, every night?”

“I believe so. I've never been one to indulge in any late-night festivities. Why do you ask?”

“Well, when living the demented life of a private eye, it's not uncommon to have to commit to some later hours on the unplanned occasion: car stakeouts after midnight; navigating the craze of urban nightlife on foot; purchasing some nefarious lawyer a hundred shots of overpriced vodka at the stripclub just for a few layers of common information. Do you drink coffee?”

“I've never been much of a coffee drinker, no.”

“Well, you definitely should be. Sugar highs and caffeine are going to be your most reliable friends on those late nights when you most need them. Either that or… well… you know…” Bringing his hand up to his face, Howl used his finger to tap the side of his nose.

“Oh, no way, Mr. Bishop,” Donny Boy immediately replied. “I wouldn't even think of touching that stuff. I've always had a firm stance against any illegal drug use.”

“That's good,” Howl said. “I've noted my fair share of innocent souls throughout my time wasting away from drug addiction. A found sense of longed-for excitement is what initially lures them in. And then, after enough restless days turn to night, enough sleepless nights turn to chaos, suddenly they look up and… the neon lights on the street don't seem as vibrant as they once used to…”

Donny Boy would look at Howl with a sort of strange sense of wonderment, our detective's eyes having slowly migrated across the room toward the window, perceiving what, to him, had appeared to be an expression of profound fatigue captured on his face.

The sound of the vehicle screeching to a halt could suddenly be heard outside on the street, trashcans tumbling over and followed by the angry voice of a young woman shouting profanities.

“Oh no…” Donny Boy muttered underneath his breath, his eyes suddenly wandering over toward the window.

“What about your relationships?” Howl asked. “Do you have a wife or girlfriend? One of the more unfortunate aspects of being a private investigator is the difficulty you might experience maintaining a healthy inner circle. This is often a critical detail that turns the most people away.”

Donny Boy was completely distracted and had failed to pick up a single word, a growing look of nervousness on his face.

“Donny Boy, are you listening?”

The frantic sound of sudden footsteps quickly marching up a flight of stairs could be heard just outside the door to the office, followed by the reactions from Howl's trusted secretary demanding an unknown grouping's identification and honest proof of appointment.

“Move aside, lady! You don't want to have to get injured!” a young woman's voice hollered in response.

“How have they managed to find me?” Donny Boy wondered out loud to himself.

“We have you outnumbered and we're very upset!”

“What the hell is going on out there?” Howl began to react.

Suddenly, managing not to completely fly off its hinges, the door to the office was viciously kicked open, creating a sudden gust of wind that would travel across the room, knocking over a slanted stack of printed papers off the corner edge of the desk.

Standing in the open doorway, visible tension throughout her arms as her hands were forged into concrete fists, a young, teenage girl had a rancid look of anger on her face. A dark, navy-blue blazer over a knitted, bright, yellow skirt, the young woman was dressed in a traditional, school-girl's uniform and had her hair cut down short, visible scrapes and bruises on her knees giving out impressions that the girl was perhaps a bit of a rowdy tomboy.

“Nayaiko! I found him! He's in here!” the young girl shouted back over her shoulder.

She would then come into the office, and shortly afterward, her thin silhouette appearing in the doorway, an additional and secondary, young woman showed her face and seemed equally upset at the current moment. Dressed in an identical uniform as the first, this second girl had her hair much greater in length and stood with long and beautifully braided pigtails poking out the sides of her head.

The second girl entered the office and shut the door.

Standing over Donny Boy who seemed to be trembling in his seat a little, the first girl snarled out of her nostrils and said, “This is the second time this week you tried to ditch us…”

“This honestly isn't the best time, girls,” Donny Boy said, his voice a bit shaky.

“You know, we were standing outside the changing booth for thirty-five minutes before we realized you weren't there,” the second girl would report. “You told us you were trying on some hats!”

“I did! Look!” Donny Boy then lifted the hat up off his head to showcase. “I ended up purchasing this really awesome fedora for myself. It's really cool, isn't it?”

Neither girl seemed to want to take the time to respond. They simply crossed their arms in defiance and stood with a pair of inconsolable scowls on their faces.

Continue...

[yourmomsawh0r3]

Benedict Bridgerton with wife reader. With stop being so pretty/handsome.” “You stop being so pretty/handsome!” Thanks!! :))

beautiful

benedict bridgerton x fem wife reader

Benedict Bridgerton was in the drawing room, a mess of papers scattered across the mahogany table. His easel stood nearby, a canvas half covered in the beginnings of a vibrant landscape. He had been at it for hours, completely absorbed in his art, when the door creaked open and Y/N stepped in, carrying a tray with tea and biscuits.

"You’ve been in here all morning," Y/N chided gently, setting the tray down on a clear corner of the table. "You must be famished."

Benedict looked up, a smile spreading across his face at the sight of his wife. "I hadn't realized the time," he admitted, rising from his chair and stretching his stiff limbs. "But now that you mention it, I am quite hungry."

As he approached, Y/N couldn't help but notice the way his eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. His dark curls were tousled, and there was a smudge of paint on his cheek, adding to his roguish charm. She felt her heart skip a beat, as it often did when she looked at him.

"You have paint on your face," she said, reaching up to wipe it away with her thumb. "And you still manage to look devastatingly handsome."

Benedict caught her hand, his fingers wrapping around hers. "You stop being so pretty," he murmured, his voice low and teasing. "It's terribly distracting."

Y/N laughed, the sound light and musical. "You stop being so handsome," she retorted. "It's not fair."

They stood there for a moment, simply enjoying each other's presence. Benedict's thumb brushed over her knuckles, his touch warm and reassuring. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "I suppose we're both cursed, then," he whispered.

"Cursed with beauty," Y/N agreed, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "What a dreadful fate."

Benedict chuckled, pulling her into a gentle embrace. "Indeed. Now, tell me about your morning. What mischief have you been up to while I’ve been locked away with my paints?"

"Oh, the usual," Y/N said airily, resting her head against his chest. "A bit of reading, a walk in the garden. I did have an interesting conversation with Eloise about her latest literary endeavor."

"Ah, Eloise and her books," Benedict mused. "She’s always up to something, isn’t she?"

"Yes, she is," Y/N said fondly. "But enough about my morning. I want to hear about your painting. Show me what you’ve been working on."

Benedict led her to the easel, where the canvas stood proudly displaying the beginnings of a lush countryside scene. The colors were vibrant, the strokes confident and expressive. Y/N marveled at the way he captured the essence of nature with such skill.

"It’s beautiful," she breathed. "You have such a talent, Benedict."

He shrugged modestly, though her praise clearly pleased him. "It’s still a work in progress. But I’m glad you like it."

"I love it," she corrected, her eyes meeting his. "Just as I love you."

Benedict’s expression softened, and he cupped her face in his hands. "And I love you, Y/N. More than words can say."

Their lips met in a tender kiss, the world around them fading away. In that moment, there was only the two of them, wrapped in the warmth of their love and the promise of countless beautiful moments yet to come.

When they finally pulled apart, Benedict pressed his forehead against hers, his breath mingling with hers. "Stay with me," he murmured. "Let’s enjoy this day together."

"Of course," Y/N whispered, her heart full. "There’s nowhere else I’d rather be."

And so they spent the rest of the day side by side, painting, talking, and simply being together. The hours slipped by unnoticed, filled with laughter and light. In the comfort of each other's presence, they found a joy that was as boundless as their love, and the world outside seemed a little brighter, a little more beautiful.

As the afternoon sun cast a golden glow through the windows, they decided to take a break and stroll through the garden. The summer flowers were in full bloom, filling the air with their sweet fragrance. Benedict held Y/N’s hand as they walked, his thumb gently stroking her palm.

"Do you remember our first walk in this garden?" Y/N asked, a nostalgic smile playing on her lips.

"How could I forget?" Benedict replied. "I was utterly captivated by you. Still am, in fact."

"You were so nervous," Y/N teased. "You could barely string a sentence together."

"Well, you were and still are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen," Benedict said earnestly. "It was quite overwhelming."

Y/N laughed, the sound like music to Benedict’s ears. "And now look at us," she said. "Walking hand in hand, perfectly at ease."

"Perfectly in love," Benedict added, bringing her hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

They continued their stroll, enjoying the serenity of the garden and the simple pleasure of each other's company. As they rounded a corner, they came upon a secluded bench beneath a large oak tree. Benedict led Y/N to it, and they sat down, the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves above them.

"You’ve always been my muse, you know," Benedict said softly, gazing at Y/N. "Every brushstroke, every color, every canvas it’s all inspired by you."

"That’s a lot of pressure," Y/N joked, but her eyes were shining with affection.

"Not at all," Benedict said. "You make it effortless. You bring so much joy and light into my life. I couldn’t imagine my art, or my life, without you."

Y/N felt a lump form in her throat at his words. She reached out, cupping his face in her hands. "And you, Benedict, have filled my life with such beauty and love. Every day with you is a blessing."

They leaned in, their lips meeting in a kiss that was both tender and passionate. It was a kiss that spoke of love, of commitment, and of the future they would continue to build together.

As the day turned to dusk, they made their way back to the house, hand in hand. The drawing room, once filled with the solitary pursuit of art, now felt warmer, more alive. They settled on the settee, sharing the tea and biscuits Y/N had brought earlier.

"Shall we make this a tradition?" Y/N suggested. "A day dedicated to us, to spending time together, no matter what."

"I’d like that very much," Benedict agreed. "A day just for us, every week."

"Good," Y/N said, resting her head on his shoulder. "Because I love our moments together. They’re my favorite part of every day."

"And mine," Benedict said, wrapping his arm around her. "Always and forever, Y/N."

They sat there in comfortable silence, watching as the stars began to twinkle in the night sky. Their hearts were full, their spirits content. In each other, they had found a love that was not only beautiful but also enduring a love that would see them through all of life’s challenges and triumphs.

And as they drifted off to sleep that night, wrapped in each other’s arms, they knew that they were not just blessed with beauty, but with something far more precious: a deep, abiding love that would last a lifetime

[olivepicks]

Hey baby, can you do Dally x fem!reader who’s insecure about her weight? Only if you want too ofc sweetheart!

It would comfort me and is exactly what I’m think of rn!

Have an amazing day baby!

DALLAS WINSTON W/ INSECURE! FEM READER

note. thanks so much for this request! i decided for a first post, i’d just write a lil somethin’! just to try and figure my style with writing him! i hope the movie version of dallas winston is okay - i reread the book yesterday, but the movie appearance of dally lives in my heart! kind of an open ending too, i hope it’s okay! i didn’t know how to end it. <3

warnings. established relationship, body insecurity, movie! dallas winston, use of doll and dollface, use of broad, mention of thick thighs, mobile formatting

“ the hell are you doin’? ”

Dallas straddled the frame of your bedroom window, clearly not at all bothered by the look of shock that crossed your face - a look that was quickly followed by annoyance.

“yeah, yeah, don’t go all nuts on me, i know.” he added on, a clear roll to his eyes as he pulled himself the rest of the way through the window, careful not to hit his head on anything. he knew you hated whenever he snuck up on you through the window, but it’s not like he would ever use the front door. too much of a hassle, what with your parents and all.

“now what the hell were you doin’? i mean, y’know,” Dallas gestured vaguely to where you stood in front of your floor-length mirror, before making himself right at home. he flopped onto your bed, old dirty boots and all.

you stood there for a second or two, perhaps even longer, your eyes darting between your reflection and the shifty-eyed greaser that lounged carelessly on your neatly made bed. and it was your reflection that won.

big — it was the only word you could think of. too big, it seemed. your hips were too wide, and your stomach poked out too forward, and your shoulders were like one of them linebackers, and-

“doll?” Dallas tried for a moment, knowing how it bothered you, but now he was trying for some sort of reaction. his thick eyebrows furrowed, confused. and he didn’t particularly like the look you were givin’ your reflection, as if it had walked right out of that mirror and stepped on your foot.

“hey,” and he pushed himself up, now sitting on the edge of your bed rather than sprawled all over the nice clean sheets and duvet. “dollface, c’mere.” Dallas motioned, and the set of his jaw and the look in his eyes wasn’t a tender beg of sweetness - it was a command. because dally always got what he wanted, and what he wanted right now, was for you to walk your pretty lil’ face on over.

almost reluctantly, you did as he asked - i mean, who could deny Dally? - and you stepped over, finally turning your back to the mirror that you had spent the last half hour gazing into. Dallas stared up at you for a moment, and it was hard not to notice the shift of his eyes, the burning pits of dark blue following every turn and curve of your body.

“Dallas!” you yelped, surprised as he suddenly reached out for you. slim fingers dug into your side, almost like claws without the use of nails, but an equally as firm hold. he could never be super gentle, after all. he pulled you down before you could even begin to protest, right down into his lap, forcing you to straddle him against your own bed - his hands hungrily kneading at the thick, plumpness of your thighs.

“oh shut up, you know you’re the broad of all broads, so don’t you go forgettin’ it - ‘cause i don’t have any nice way of showin’ it.” Dallas cut you off, eager to get in his own two cents if he could. he had no problem of showing you that you were the most perfect gal a guy like him could ask for - it was just the talkin’ part that got him, at least, talkin’ without causing a few flushed faces and slaps to the back of the head.

but then again, Dallas would only ever let you slap him over the head and get away with it.

his fingers firmly prodded at your legs, looking up at you with equally as fiery eyes - a look that dared you to defy him. Dallas was not an emotional guy, not if he could help it. he was no perfect match, and often times he came across as horrifically selfish and arrogant. it came with the territory. but there was a certain difference in his expression, you weren’t quite sure what it was.

but you knew he loved you, even if Dallas Winston would never admit it. he just wasn’t the kind of guy who found it easy to tell you how pretty he thought you were, or how often he found himself staring at you (even if it was when your back was turned). you knew he loved you, and knew that he liked you just the way you were. you weren’t too big, or too wide, and you didn’t take up too much space - you were you, and that was more than enough for ol’ Dal.

you were his broad after all.

written by olivepicks.

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[beepersteeper]

Dirty -- Astarion x Tav smut

cw- name calling

“Would you have agreed to join the group  if you knew she was into such things, Astarion?” Shadowheart asks, crossing her arms and watching Tav being hit for a second time.

“Well, I had certainly hoped.” he responds, an evil smirk crossing his lips as he leans his head to the side to watch Tav endure the lashings being given to her, just being able to detect hints of pleasure in her cries. 

They had slept together before, but only in a way that was a means to satisfy their urges being alone on the road and to gain himself the protection that she offered. There was no real feeling between them at least on his end, just two willing bodies. But this… he thought to himself this felt different. 

Shadowheart scoffs, not needing a tadpole to know what he was thinking.

“Who knew our friend had so much blood in her." He added almost absentmindedly, licking his lips and keeping his eyes trained on Tav's body enduring the pain. 

“Try not to lick your lips when you say that." Shadowheart squints at him and walks into the room next to them to loot something with Karlach. 

Tav finishes and gets accolades from her punisher. And returns to Astarion’s side noticing the looks she's gleaning from him. “What?"

“Oh nothing, just, you're absolutely covered in blood, my dear. And I'm trying to keep my head on straight. So unless you want to steal away and let me get you cleaned up myself you had better go take care of it yourself." He waves his hand shooing her away, but hoping she takes him up on the offer he covered in a joke.

"Well,” she toys. “I would hate for you to go hungry tonight. I do need you at your best."

His eyes go wide and his pupils blow out with lust and hunger “Don't joke like that darling."

“Whose joking?" She pushes further into the bit “Let's go find somewhere." she smirks and starts to walk away from him.

Without hesitation, he grabs her hand and makes quick work knocking out the Zhenterim guards and locking themselves in the room that they were guarding. He makes even quicker work at removing her armor and top, revealing the deep bleeding wounds. 

She hisses as he applies healing potions to the wounds, watching them heal and hearing her breath catch when he begins licking her shoulders and kissing all over her back gathering the rivers of blood in his mouth while kneeling lowers as he trails down her body. 

“Godsdamnit Tav, you have no idea what you do to me." He growls continuing to attend to her back. “Your blood is already so intoxicating. And then when there is resolve and arousal mixed into it” he trails off losing his train of thought lapping up her essence.

"Arousal?” She coughs, confused.

"You can't hide it from me, love. You enjoyed that little session you just had. You like pain. You like being degraded. I think you like being told where your place is and then to be put in it.” Placing small kisses down her spine. "Almost as much as I enjoyed watching you enjoy it.” He stands turning her effortlessly to him “Thank you, for the meal by the way." he says slowly licking the remaining blood from his lips not letting her go, holding onto her hips, his eyes fixed on her. 

“Anything that helps you help me.” She shrugs playfully hoping to stir him up, because she did get turned on by the lashings, but more so by his tender care to her wounds and the way he read her like a book. 

“I could help you a little more I think." Moving his hands up to touch the skin above her pants. “And it would certainly help me too." He pulls her into him pinning himself against the wooden door with her body with a dull thud. 

“Is that so?" She asks, catching herself with her hands on his chest, losing her footing and falling into him.

“Mhm" he hums as he buries his face in her neck kissing her scarred skin 

“Well, how do you plan on doing that?" She holds her resolve, even though she just wants to fall to her knees and beg him for release.

“You see those crates over there" he points pushing her face to look “I am going to bend you over one and fuck you till you all you can say is my name.” He continues to kiss her neck "or better yet I could make you do the work. Riding and sucking my hard cock until I've had my fill. Just use your perfect body for my own pleasure." He raises his face to meet hers "I think you'd like the latter.” Tav's eyes light up and she opens her mouth to speak but no words come out.

“Speechless darling?" he chuckles.

She stammers “N- no, just…  thinking."

“Don't think too long, we wouldn't want to keep our friends waiting. But we're not leaving this room until I've been inside of you and had my fill,"  he growls into her neck.

Her breath hitches "Can I suck your cock while I think on it” She toys now kissing his neck and running her hand down his chest meeting his hands that are undoing his belt. 

“Tsk" he tuts “on your knees then." 

She does so quickly watching intently as he pulls his fully erect dick out of his pants. His hand is lost in her hair as he guides her eager mouth down his shaft.

“That's right," he hisses, “fix the problem you started. Getting me this fucking hard while we're supposed to be saving the world" he watches her swallow his entire length while gagging on him. He winces when his head hits the back of her throat. He pulls her hair pulling her mouth off of him. Forcing her to look up at him with her lips and chin gleaming with spit. 

Tav sucks in a deep breath keeping her eyes locked on his. 

He spits in her face and hits her with his dick several times. “You are so pretty like this." Rubbing their saliva around her face with his thumb before pulling her face back onto him. Moaning as she starts to swirl her tongue around him. She steadies herself with her hands on his thighs before bobbing her mouth as quickly as she can muster, earning moans and groans from him.

He firmly but gently puts his hand around her throat pushing her back and standing her up, keeping his hand where it is  “Is this alright darling?"

“Tighter." She says.

His expression turns to a smolder "If that's what you want.” He says almost in a sing-song tone. Tightening his thumb and finger onto her veins with a little pressure on her throat. Moving his face to hers touching their noses "What do you want now.” He says squeezing harder and releasing it slightly. 

Tav looks away shyly. And Astarion pulls her face back to his.

“You need to tell me what you want before you can have it.”

"I want you to choke me while you fuck me.” she pouts.

"Well obviously darling but how?" He turns her around pulling her ass to grind on him, not releasing her throat. He unfastens her pants and slips his cold fingers into her slick heat. “I could take you on the crates like I said… or on the floor” he shoves his fingers into her core and turns their bodies, pushing her into the door with a bit of force earning a loud moan from Tav. “Or right where you stand." He growls into her hair earning a louder moan from her. “I'll take that and an answer. Take off your pants. My hands are full.” he demands. 

He doesn't relent in finger fucking her as she works hastily to remove the clothing that is keeping her from him. 

He replaced his fingers with his cock without hesitating. Tightening his grip on her throat and holding her waist to fuck her into the door.

“You are such a dirty girl." He moans in her ear “getting fucked in a goblin camp. Have you no shame?" He grunts with every thrust into her. “Wanting to be controlled, choked, and used like the dirty toy you are." 

His free hand returns to her core playing with her clit causing her knees to buckle as she cries out in pleasure. “That's right, let everyone know what you're doing back here. Go on, tell them what you're doing.” He slaps the roundness of her ass hard enough to leave his handprint immediately.

"I'm a dirty little whore.” She cries loudly not wanting the pleasure to stop. "I love being fucked in a dirty back room.”

His hand tightens around her throat “Good girl. Now that's enough from you.” He puts his still wet fingers into her mouth and presses her tongue down to keep her from speaking. He thrusts himself into slow and calculated. Feeling her walls tighten around him with every push and pull of his hips.

She bites down on his fingers with a moan. He tightens his hand around her throat again and pulls her jaw down just enough to be uncomfortable “We ask before we bite darling" he tuts pulling his cock out of her and his fingers from her mouth. Using the hand on her throat to turn her around to look at him holding her by the corners of her jaw to keep her looking straight at him. He looks at the fingers with slight teeth marks present under his second knuckles. “It's been a long time since I've  been the one bitten." He chuckles, still keeping a firm hand on her throat, letting her breathe but just enough. 

“I'm sorry" she croaks “I am so sorry." She begs forgiveness.

“I don't think you are my pet." He plainly states “But you will be." He winks to show that he isn't actually upset with her. “Now go bend over that barrel and keep your hands behind your back." He pushes her in the right direction using the hand on her throat. 

She stumbles over her feet and takes her place where he demands holding her forearms with the opposite hand, keeping them in place. She stayed like that for what felt like an eternity. Astarion walked quietly behind her stroking his wet cock and staring at Tav in such a helpless position. Watching her arousal slowly drip from her. He slaps her ass harder this time, using his dominant hand. A white and red welt forms instantly.

She whines a moan rising onto her tiptoes. “Thank you." She utters, taking Astarion by surprise. 

“You are very welcome, my pet." He says with sweetness back on his tongue delivering another blow.

She yelps and thanks him again.

He hums and delivers a third causing her knees to buckle but still receiving another thank you. 

Without warning he drives himself fully into her, deeper than before because of the new angle. He digs his fingers into the flesh at her hips giving him the leverage to bury himself deeper in her than he's ever been, recklessly. 

Her cries of pleasure fill the air as she starts to shake trying to keep herself in this position. Her cunt gets wetter and her climax getting closer to the edge. She whimpers into the crate “Please can I cum?”

“Say it louder you whore." He growls, calling her the same dirty name she called herself as he speeds up his assault on her core.

“Please can I cum!?" She cries out begging for release.

“That's it. Beg for it.” He moans, relishing in his power to “Say it again." He commands her to say as he starts to rub her clit pushing right to her edge.

“Please can I cum!" She begs “Please please let me cum for you!" She says as her body shakes. 

"Yes my pet" he coos “Cum on my cock." Keeping his pace steady to make sure she reaches her peak. 

She comes completely apart, gripping her arms tightly enough to draw a slight of blood under her nails. “That's right you dirty girl, show me how much you like being used." He doesn't stop, trying to reach his own climax. She cries out during her high, her legs shaking and every muscle in her body tensing at once. His thrusting becomes more erratic as he speaks in a low growl “Where do you want my cum dirty girl?"

“Mouth" she whimpers “cum in my mouth!"

“Get on your knees, darling," he commands and pulls himself out again, not daring to touch himself until she's in front of him.

She kneels on the stone floor with her hands still behind her back making her tits stand perfectly perky on her chest and her mouth wide open with her tongue sticking out waiting for his spend.

He pushes his cock across her tongue before thrusting in “Close" he says lightly slapping her cheek as she does. He holds either side of her head to keep it still as he fucks her mouth “Now don't bite me" he laughs enjoying himself more than just carnaly. “Godsdamnit I'm so close. Are you ready for me Tav?" She hums unable to make words. He grunts as he empties himself into her eager mouth.

She hungrily swallows every drop not letting any slip from her lips

“You can be a good girl, I see." He mewls, leaning down to kiss her softly after he removes his dick from her mouth. She opens her mouth, showing she happily swallowed all of him. “Such a good girl."  He reaches his hands out to help her stand and wraps her in a hug “Are you okay?" He asks sweetly in his tone “Are you hurt?" He asks, concerned.

“I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm alright Astarion I promise.” She says leaning into his embrace "Although it might hurt to sit tonight at camp” she laughs.

He runs his hands down her backside feeling the welts bumped up on her flesh, smiling a crooked smile “I think you'll be okay." He sits himself on the crate and pulls her onto his lap carefully. “What do you need right now?” He asks, holding her weight and letting her relax.

"Just a minute to let my legs regain their strength.” She smiles into his shoulder "and promises to do this again someday soon.”

"Both those I can do.” He chuckles reaching into her pack to grab her canteen and hand it to “drink something."

She does so and flexes her feet and legs, feeling sensation returning to them. “We should probably find the others." She says bashfully into his chest. “Gods I don't want to face them" she laughs

"Let me handle it, Shadowheart was already giving me hell when you were getting flayed.” He scoffs ready to move but not doing so until she is ready "Is our fearless leader embarrassed that she enjoys being called names and being used?”

"Oh no, more so the location of all of all that" she laughs moving to stand.

Once she's on steady footing he rushes to gather her clothes and armor helping her get dressed. Examining the shirt she's wearing, making a mental note to mend it this evening. Tav has readied herself and the two walk through the door Astarion has opened for them. They round the corner and find the others.

“There you two are! We've been looking all over for you." Shadowheart scolds

“Clearly not hard enough." Astarion mocks, raising his eyebrows and catching an elbow from Tav. 

“Where'd you two run off to anyway?" Karlach asks innocently

Ready to quip back, Astarion opens his mouth, only to be cut off by Shadowheart looking between him and Tav knowingly “I frankly don't want to know. Let's just get on with this." She motions at the camp and walks off in a huff.

[gojoidyll]

Infinity

Yandere ! Gojo Satoru x Female ! Reader

Part 2 | my childhood friend

Warnings | Gojo is kind of clingy, y/n is shy and has a stutter (at first), grammatical errors, etc.

Notes | this fic will be using she/her pronouns for y/n. Also this is a reincarnation fic, so Gojo's name will not be "Satoru" in this part. And please let me know if you want to be in a taglist for this series !! ^-^

Summary | And I'd choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I'd find you and I'd choose you.

Infinity Masterlist

year 1102 AD

GOJO SHIRO was at the tender age of twelve when he regained his past life's memories, and with a sudden burst of excitement he realized that he was indeed living a new life as a reincarnation of his former self. With such news, he immediately set off with such knowledge and past experiences. He knew things as such a young age that baffled many adults. Which was to no surprise to the young Gojo. Though, truthfully, he had no intention of revealing how he had such vast knowledge and instead would give the simple answer of "I like to study when I'm not training." Which was believable to most adults with in the Gojo clan because they would take notice how the young future head of the clan would wander straight towards the clan's sacred library.

Little did they know, however, was that he was actually researching the l/n clan and trying to see if y/n even existed in this time period. And, much to his dismay, he would find that after his first death the l/n clan would have fallen from grace. (Which was very much deserved, mind you.) But now he had no way of finding her, of find y/n, or knowing if was even born yet or even if she would have the last name l/n or the first name y/n.

Because look at Gojo.

Sure, he still has the six eyes. His powerful cursed techniques that he will be expected to hone as he ages. Yet he has a different first name. So the same could be expected of y/n if she got reincarnated as well. But he knew that once he saw her, he would know that it was her. Without a doubt. Mainly because he wholeheartedly believed that when one is reincarnated, their personality stays the same. Their soul never changes. I mean, the only thing about him that changed was his first name for goodness sake! So the same could easily be said about his y/n. Easily.

However ...

"Oh! How frustrating!"

It was still very frustrating.

He slammed the book shut and pushed it aside. His gaze settling onto the nearest wall.

It was clear to him that searching through books on whereabouts of the l/n clan were no longer going to work. If he wanted to find his cute little maid, then he was going to have to leave the Gojo Estate. Simple, right? So, that was exactly what he set out to do. And much to his surprise, no one really stopped him. Probably because he was already at such a high position within the clan as the next head and all.

And thats how he found himself wandering the streets. Many people bustled around him but didn't dare to step in his path for it was easily known as to who he was and how much power he had.

Well, that was until he felt a small tug on his sleeve.

Rolling his eyes, he couldn't believe someone had the audacity to bother him, especially considering how he was busy looking for y/n. Not that whoever was pulling at him to get his attention needed to know that.

"What."

Though the moment that the word left his mouth, his whole body froze up when he had turned to look at the person who was bothering him. His brillant blue eyes fixated on the slightly smaller girl before him.

She looked exactly the same as before.

"Uhm- i- i- I'm so sorry, Lord Gojo! But- but you- i-," she stuttered over her words like a fool. She shut her eyes as she tried to find the right words she wanted to say, "its just.. us kids were going to play a game and- and we were wondering if you want to play with us. We- we know you probably have better things to do.. but but we j- just .. just wanted to be friends since- since w-we saw you pass by and and we never see you out from the estate walls, so..."

She blabbered on. To anyone else, they may have tried to cut her off or shut her up. But to Gojo? He was on cloud nine. In his past life, he only got to see her when she was a teenager, and that was only for a year before her life was taken from him. But now? Now he has a chance to get to know her as a child. They can grow up together, learn about each other at the same pace without someone threatening them. It made a smile stretching across his lips.

"Sure," he said suddenly, "I'll come play with you all. But...only on one condition."

She brightened at first when he agreed to come play but instantly deflated at the condition. He wasn't going to ask for money was he?! Her dirt smudged face and tattered clothes were proof enough of her wealth. So, she really did hope he didn't ask for anything too grand.

"Mmhmm, want to hear the condition?"

She shakily nodded and he basked in her shyness and fear. He found it was really fun to tease her! And he planned on teasing her a lot in the near future.

Booping her on the nose with an index finger, he grinned, "well, its actually two conditions. But don't worry, its within your power to fulfill them easily."

Rubbing her nose, she silently urged him to continue.

"First, I want you to call me Shiro. No more of that lame Lord Gojo crap. And second .. what's your name? You want me to come play with you, but don't offer an introduction? Honestly, I'm hurt."

He faked a pout while laying a hand on his chest. His heart beating rapidly against his palm and he silently hoped she wasn't able to hear it.

She bowed suddenly, "r- right! I'm s- sorry Lord- uhm- I mean! I'm sorry Shiro!"

She straightened back up as a blush coated her (color) cheeks. Her hand shakily jutting out as her feet moved from side to side in a nervous manner.

"I'm y/n and- and I was wondering if you like to come and play with me and my friends.."

His heart did a backflip and he internally swooned. So cute!

He immediately snatched her hand into his own despite her hand being slightly dirty than his clean, pristine one.

"I would love to!"

[muiitoloko]

The Judge

Summary: He was the Judge.

Pairing: Judge Turpin × Fem!Reader

Warnings: Cruelty, foul language, pregnancy, Smut, Pregnant sex, fluffy.

Author's Note: In this sequel, the perspective shifts mainly to Turpin's point of view, but it occasionally alternates between the reader's perspective and Turpin's. And as mentioned in the first chapter, Turpin is portrayed as somewhat softer in this story. While he still maintains his intimidating demeanor, there is a part of him that cares for the reader, even if he is reluctant to admit it.

First, Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth, Sixth, Seventh, Eighth and Ninth part here.

You entered the room, feeling exhausted after a long day, and your gaze landed on your husband, who was sitting on the bed, engrossed in a book. He looked so ordinary and handsome at that moment, with his glasses perched on his nose as he read, the white shirt open revealing a bit of his chest, that it was impossible not to admire him for a moment.

But as you took a step closer, the pain in your feet became almost unbearable, and you found yourself sinking into the mattress, half lying with your back against the headboard of the bed. The weight of your unborn child still felt heavy, adding to your exhaustion.

Turpin looked up from the book, furrowing his brow in concern as he noticed your discomfort. "What's wrong?" he asked, his tone softer than usual.

You hesitated, feeling a bit shy to admit, "My feet are hurting."

To your surprise, Turpin immediately set aside the book and glasses before getting out of bed, sitting beside you. He gently placed your feet in his lap, his hands skillfully untying your shoes and checking for signs of injury on the swollen feet.

Feeling embarrassed by the intimacy of the moment, you tried to pull your feet away from his lap, but Turpin's piercing gaze and the gruff command to stay still froze you in place.

You felt a mix of confusion and fear as Turpin examined your feet. Then, to your surprise, he began massaging one of them, his touch surprisingly gentle and soothing.

But when you squirmed and let out a giggle from the ticklish sensation, he abruptly stopped, looking at you with a mixture of surprise and amusement.

Feeling a blush rise to your cheeks, you explained, "I'm sorry, my feet are too ticklish."

Turpin's gaze softened, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips as he reached for your other foot. "Don't apologize," he murmured, his voice surprisingly tender. "I don't mind."

And as he resumed the massage, you couldn't help but marvel at the unexpected kindness and warmth of your husband's touch. Despite his reputation as a stern and imposing figure, there was a softer side to him that you had never seen before.

What you found very strange, you couldn't understand why your husband, a man known for his cruelty and indifference, suddenly showed such unexpected kindness towards you. It wasn't like him to be so attentive, so caring, especially when it came to your well-being.

You then questioned him, asking if he was feeling unwell, but before you could insist further, Turpin's expression turned sour, his behavior reverting to his usual coldness. He dropped your feet abruptly, making you flinch at the sudden change in his demeanor.

"I'm not 'unwell'," he growled, his voice filled with annoyance. "I was just trying to stop your annoying whining about your swollen feet."

You bit your lip, feeling a pang of guilt for upsetting him. "I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice almost inaudible.

But your husband paid no attention to your apology, his gaze hardening as he rose from the bed. "Get up and undress," he ordered, his tone commanding and authoritative. "I want to fuck you tonight."

You obeyed, although it took you a moment to compose yourself and get up from the bed, your swollen belly making the movements more difficult than usual. Turpin watched you impatiently, his eyes burning with desire as he waited for you to comply with his demands while he himself removed his pants and underwear, kicking them aside before lying on the bed, and he couldn't help but feel a wave of anticipation coursing through his body. His desire for you burned hot and fierce, igniting a fire within him that threatened to consume him whole.

Meanwhile, you finished undressing, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement fluttering in the pit of your stomach. Your swollen belly made movement more difficult, but you pushed through, determined to please Turpin and satisfy his desires.

As you approached the bed, Turpin waved you over, his gaze dark with desire as he watched you with hungry eyes. With a trembling breath, you straddled him, positioning yourself carefully as you impaled yourself on him.

He groaned as he felt your tightness enveloping him, his breath catching in his throat as you took him deep inside you. The sensation was intoxicating, overwhelming him with a wave of pleasure unlike anything he had ever experienced before.

Your weight pressed him into the mattress, your pregnant form adding an extra layer of intensity to the encounter. Turpin let out a low grunt of satisfaction, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he let you set the pace.

And you did, moving your hips in a slow, rhythmic motion that drove him crazy with desire. Turpin's gaze remained on your bouncing breasts, his mouth watered at the sight, he wanted to squeeze them but he knew your breasts were sore, you always complained about that when you thought Turpin wasn't listening, so he held back.

As you rocked your hips against his, the bed creaked beneath you, the sound mingling with the soft moans escaping your lips. Turpin's hands roamed your body, avoiding touching your breasts to avoid hurting them, something you didn't notice, as he guided you with specialized precision.

"Harder," he growled, his voice rough with desire. "I want to feel you, all of you."

You eagerly complied, picking up the pace as you rocked against him, the friction sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Turpin's grip on your hips tightened, his nails digging into your skin as he urged you on.

"Yes, just like that," he groaned, his breath becoming ragged as he lost himself in the pleasure of your touch. "Just like that."

But suddenly you hesitated, feeling a sudden wave of exhaustion wash over you as you averted your gaze from Turpin. His forehead furrowed in confusion and he grunted, questioning what was wrong. You stammered, struggling to find words to explain, before finally admitting that you were tired - that the weight of your heavy belly was making your movements difficult.

Expecting your husband to lash out in anger, you braced yourself for the inevitable reaction. But to your surprise, he surprised you, taking your hand and kissing your fingers tenderly. "It's okay," he murmured, his voice surprisingly gentle. "You don't have to strain yourself. I'll take care of everything."

You looked at him with surprise, a spark of warmth blossoming inside you at his unexpected kindness. It was moments like these that made you wonder if there was more to your husband than met the eye, if beneath his cold exterior there was a heart capable of love and compassion.

His expression softened as he looked at you, his eyes full of a tenderness you had never seen before. "Let me do all the work now," he offered, his voice a comforting murmur. "Just relax and enjoy."

With that, Turpin rose from the bed, gently spinning you both so that he was on top now. You watched him with a mixture of admiration and anticipation as he positioned himself between your legs, his touch surprisingly gentle as he caressed your swollen belly.

And as he began to move with slow, deliberate motions, you allowed yourself to surrender to the pleasure of his touch, losing yourself in the warmth of his embrace. Despite the darkness that surrounded the two of you, in that moment, there was only the two of you, bound by the fragile thread of shared desire and longing.

As Turpin's movements grew more intense, you clung to him desperately, digging your nails into his back as you sought release. He rested one arm near your head, his movements still rhythmic and controlled as he continued to gaze at the swollen belly where the unborn child lay. A flicker of uncertainty crossed his features as he pondered aloud, "Do you think it will be a boy or a girl?"

Instead of responding immediately, you hesitated, a slight furrow marring your features as you questioned, "What do you want it to be?"

Turpin didn't hesitate, gripping the sheets tighter beside your head as he stated with conviction, "A boy. I need a boy."

His words hung heavily in the air, laden with the weight of his expectations and desires. You couldn't help but feel a pang of discomfort at his unwavering insistence on the child's gender.

"Why does it have to be a boy?" you ventured cautiously, your voice almost a whisper.

Turpin's gaze turned steely, his jaw tightening as he replied, "I need a legitimate heir to continue my lineage. I don't need girls, just boys."

The coldness in his tone sent a shiver down your spine, a stark reminder of the relentless determination he hid beneath his composed exterior. Turpin was a man driven by ambition and power, willing to do whatever it took to achieve his goals.

As he tightened his grip on the sheets even further, his eyes bore into yours with an intensity that made you feel small and insignificant. "Have a boy," he commanded, his voice fulled with the authority of a judge. "I won't accept anything else. Girls are useless to me."

The weight of his expectations pressed down on you, suffocating and oppressive. You knew your husband was a man accustomed to getting what he wanted and would stop at nothing to ensure his desires were fulfilled.

But as he continued to ramble about his desire for a male heir, his words dripping with disdain for girls, you felt a wave of courage welling up within you. With a sudden burst of determination, you reached out and grasped his face, forcing him to look at you.

"You're wrong," you stated firmly, your voice steady despite your racing heart. "Girls are not useless. And I don't care if our baby is a girl or a boy."

Turpin frowned angrily at your defiance, furrowing his brows in frustration at your challenge. How dare you contradict him? He reached for your hand resting on his cheek with the intention of pushing it away, but halted as you suddenly gazed deeply into him, your face softening as you suddenly remarked how beautiful his eyes were, the shade of brown the most beautiful you had ever seen.

Turpin froze at your unexpected praise, his anger momentarily forgotten as he looked at you in disbelief. His eyes, usually cold and distant, softened at your words, a glimmer of vulnerability shining in his features.

"Really?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper, almost hesitant.

You nodded, a warm smile playing at the corners of your lips. "Absolutely," you replied, reaching out your other hand to gently trace the contours of his face with the tips of your fingers. "And you know what else I think?"

Turpin's heart quickened with anticipation as he waited for your response, his gaze locked on yours in a moment of shared intimacy.

"I also think your nose is beautiful," you continued, your voice full of sincerity. "It's big and strong, just like you. And I like that."

Turpin was stunned by your words, his mind flashing back to the days of his childhood when his peers mercilessly teased him because of his prominent nose. He had always been ashamed of it, seeing it as a flaw that marked him as different from others.

But your words touched something deep within him, a long-buried feeling of self-worth and acceptance. For the first time in his life, someone saw beauty in the feature that had plagued him with insecurities for so long.

"You... you think my nose is beautiful?" Turpin repeated, his voice almost a whisper, his disbelief evident in his expression.

You nodded, your eyes shining with sincerity as you affirmed, "Yes, I do. It's a part of what makes you who you are, and I wouldn't change it for anything."

Turpin's heart swelled with emotion at your words, a sense of warmth flooding him as he realized that you accepted him, flaws and all. It was a rare moment of vulnerability for him, a glimpse of the man beneath the facade of power and authority.

You continued, taking Turpin's hand and pressing it against your belly, feeling the warmth of his touch against your skin. "This baby," you said softly, "will be a part of us both. It will carry a piece of you and a piece of me, and it will be beautiful, regardless of its gender."

Turpin's eyes softened as he looked down at your belly, his fingers tracing gentle circles on your skin. "Yes," he murmured, his voice almost a whisper. "Our child will be beautiful, just like its mother."

You smiled at his words, feeling a wave of warmth flooding you with his unexpected tenderness. "And maybe," you teased playfully, "the baby will have your eyes, or your nose. Or perhaps it will be big and strong like its father."

Turpin chuckled softly at your teasing, his eyes shining with affection as he added, "Or delicate and small like its mother."

You grin at his response, feeling a sense of happiness blooming within you at the thought of the life growing inside you. "Promise me," you say, your voice serious now, "that you will love our baby, no matter what."

Turpin's expression softened as he met your gaze, his eyes full of sincerity as he replied, "I... I promise. I will love our child with all my heart, whether it's a boy or a girl."

You smiled at his words, feeling a sense of relief washing over you with his sincere promise. "Thank you," you whispered, leaning in to place a kiss on his lips.

Turpin eagerly returned the kiss, his arms enveloping you in a tight embrace as he whispered against your lips, "As long as our baby has your smile, I will love him with all my heart. Nothing else matters."

In that moment, surrounded by the warmth and love of your partner, you felt a sense of peace washing over you. Despite the uncertainties and challenges that lay ahead, you knew that as long as you had each other, you could overcome anything that came your way. And for now, that was all that truly mattered.

Days later, things seemed relatively calm between you and Judge Turpin. His usual growls and cruelty were noticeably absent, and you felt strangely drawn to this new gentle side of your husband. Intrigued by the change in his behavior, you decided to visit him at the courthouse that day.

As you entered his office, you couldn't help but feel a sense of nervousness creeping over you. You had never been in a courtroom before, and the imposing atmosphere made you feel out of place. But you pushed aside your apprehensions, determined to see your husband in his workplace.

However, your presence seemed to infuriate Turpin. His forehead creased with anger as he looked at you from behind his desk, his dark eyes full of suspicion. "What are you doing here?" he demanded, his voice sharp and authoritative.

You hesitated, feeling a pang of guilt at having angered him. "I... I missed you," you admitted quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Turpin froze at your words, his anger momentarily forgotten as he stared at you in disbelief. His eyes softened with a mixture of surprise and vulnerability, a flicker of emotion crossing his features.

"You missed me?" he repeated, his voice almost a whisper, almost as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

You nodded, a faint blush coloring your cheeks as you confessed, "Yes, I missed you. I wanted to see you, to be near you."

His expression softened at your words, a sense of warmth flooding over him as he realized that you sought him out because you missed him. It was a rare moment of vulnerability for him, a glimpse of the man beneath the facade of power and authority.

But as quickly as it came, Turpin's anger returned, his features hardening as he shook his head, frustrated. "You shouldn't have come here," he growled, his voice filled with annoyance. "It's not safe for you to be out on the streets, especially in your condition."

You bit your lip, feeling a twinge of guilt for having upset him. "I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice almost inaudible.

But he paid no attention to your apology; instead, he gestured for you to come closer, his gaze full of a dark intensity that sent shivers down your spine. "Since you're here," he murmured softly, "I might as well make good use of it."

Confusion clouded your mind as you tried to decipher his enigmatic words. But before you could question him further, Turpin abruptly tossed aside his judge's wig and began to undo his robe with a sense of urgency.

You watched in stunned silence as Turpin revealed himself, his demeanor shifting from stern judge to something altogether more primal and authoritative. The sight of his exposed flesh sent a wave of heat through you, awakening something deep within you that you couldn't quite comprehend.

But when Turpin noticed that you were still standing there, frozen in place by the sudden turn of events, he impatiently growled, ordering you to obey. Without hesitation, you dropped to your knees as he commanded, your heart pounding in your chest as you prepared for what was to come.

And as he continued to undress, revealing his half-hard penis, a surge of anticipation coursed through you. You knew exactly what he wanted, and you were more than willing to comply with his desires.

He reached out, cupping your chin and guiding your mouth towards him, his touch surprisingly gentle as he pushed his member past your lips. You relaxed your throat and jaw, as Turpin had taught you, allowing him to use your mouth as he pleased.

Turpin threw his head back in ecstasy, his groans filling the room as he thrust his hips forward, driving his cock deeper into your mouth. The sound of his balls slapping against your chin with each movement only fueled his desire further, spurring him on to greater heights of pleasure.

You gripped his legs for support, steadying yourself as he used you for his own satisfaction. His hands held your head in place, controlling the pace and intensity of his thrusts as he lost himself in the pleasure of your mouth.

"Mmm, yes," he groaned, his voice rough with desire. "That's it, my dear. Suck me like the obedient little whore you are."

His words sent a shiver of excitement coursing through you, fueling your own arousal as you eagerly fulfilled his demands. You bobbed your head up and down on his shaft, taking him deeper with each pass, eager to please him and satisfy his desires.

But then the sudden creak of the office door opening caused a brief moment of interruption. However, Turpin didn't even bother to stop or open his eyes, focusing only on the pleasure he was receiving.

"S-sorry to interrupt, sir," Beadle's voice sounded, hesitantly entering the room. "But the next case is about to begin. We should head to the courtroom."

Turpin's forehead furrowed with annoyance at the interruption, his patience wearing thin. "I'm busy, Beadle," he growled, his voice low and threatening. "Tell them to wait."

"But sir,," Beadle persisted, his tone filled with urgency. "the court has already been delayed once this week. We cannot afford to postpone proceedings any further."

Turpin's eyes flashed with anger, his grip tightening on your head as he shot Beadle a warning glare. "I said I'm busy," he shouted, his voice echoing through the room. "Do not dare question me, Beadle, or the next to be hanged will be you!"

Beadle recoiled at Turpin's outburst, fear evident in his eyes as he backed away from the judge. "Y-yes, sir," he stammered, his voice trembling with apprehension. "I... I'll inform them that the case will be delayed."

Turpin nodded in satisfaction, his attention returning to you as Beadle hastily exited, leaving the two of you alone once again. "That's better," Turpin murmured, his tone softening slightly as he resumed his previous activities. "Now, where were we? Ah yes... Mmm."

He resumed his thrusts, though more slowly now, savoring the sensation of being enveloped by your warmth. With his eyes half-closed, he took in the sight of you, your lips wrapped around him, your cleavage on display in the low-cut dress you were wearing. Despite his anger and frustration moments ago, he couldn't deny the intoxicating allure you held over him in this moment.

Turpin stroked your head gently, his touch surprisingly tender as he announced that he was about to climax. "Take every drop of me," he commanded, his voice rough with desire.

You obeyed without hesitation, eager to please him and satisfy his desires. As he released into your mouth, you eagerly took him in, swallowing every drop of him as he moaned in pleasure.

His grip tightened on your head, keeping you still for a moment longer before finally releasing you. With a satisfied sigh, he carefully lifted you up, one hand protectively supporting your belly to bear the weight of your unborn child.

Setting you down gently in his chair, Turpin began to redress himself, the familiar weight of the judge's robe settling over his shoulders once more. He turned away from you, pretending not to notice as you rifled through his belongings.

But when he turned back to look, he couldn't help but notice the sight that greeted him. You were wearing his judge's wig, which he had discarded earlier, the ridiculous contraption nearly swallowing your head in a comical fashion. He suppressed a smile at the sight of the wig looking utterly absurd on you. But he knew he couldn't let you off so easily, not after you had disobeyed his orders and ventured off on your own.

His expression hardened as he pretended to be angry, his voice cold and authoritative as he spoke. "What do you think you're doing?" he demanded, his eyes gleaming with disapproval.

You blushed furiously, realizing that you had been caught red-handed. "I... I'm sorry," you stammered, your voice trembling with embarrassment. "I was just... curious."

He reached out and took the wig back from you, his movements precise and controlled. Suppressing his amusement at the sight of you in the ridiculous contraption, he put the wig back on his own head with a sense of authority, straightening it out with meticulous care.

"That wig is not a toy," he chastised, his voice cold and authoritative. "It is an important symbol of my position and authority. You should treat it with respect."

Though he hated the wig, inwardly thinking it ridiculous, Turpin maintained his stern facade as he spoke. "I trust you understand," he added, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You nodded meekly, feeling a sense of embarrassment wash over you at having been caught playing with something that clearly held significance for Turpin. "Yes, I understand," you murmured, your cheeks burning with shame.

Turpin's expression softened slightly at your contrite response, though he made no effort to show it. Instead, he informed you that he would send one of the police officers to accompany you back to the carriage and home, ensuring your safety.

Taking your hand in his, Turpin led you out of the office, his grip firm and reassuring. He waved to one of the police officers, instructing him to take you safely home.

The policeman complied, offering you his arm and leading you away from Turpin's office. As you disappeared from sight with the policeman, Turpin allowed himself a small smile, the memory of you in his wig bringing a hint of amusement to his otherwise stern countenance.

It was a ridiculous sight, to be sure, but perhaps someday he would let you put on the wig again, just for a few good laughs. For now, though, there were more pressing matters at hand.

Turpin walked towards the courtroom, his expression turning cold as he climbed into his chair. "Bring forth the accused," he commanded, his voice ringing with authority.

As the defendant was brought before him, Turpin's gaze hardened, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. "You stand accused of theft and fraud," he declared, his voice cold and unforgiving. "How do you plead?"

The next day, Judge decided to take a well-deserved day off. He instructed everyone, including you, to leave him alone and retreated to his office, seeking solitude amidst the chaos of his daily life. As he settled into his chair, he poured himself a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid glinting in the sunlight that streamed through the window.

Turpin lit a cigar, the smoke curling around him as he leaned back in his chair, the stress of his responsibilities melting away with each puff. He immersed himself in the stack of court documents that awaited his attention, his brow furrowing in concentration as he reviewed case after case.

But as the afternoon wore on, Turpin found himself growing restless. Despite his best efforts to relax, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at him. He took another drag from his cigar, the bitter taste lingering on his tongue as he pondered his next move.

Suddenly, the sound of the office door slamming open startled him out of his reverie. Turpin's eyes narrowed with irritation as he glanced up, ready to reprimand whoever had dared to interrupt his solitude.

But his anger melted away in an instant as he caught sight of you, your pregnant form waddling into the room with a notebook clutched tightly in your hands. There was a spark of excitement in your eyes, and Turpin couldn't help but feel a flicker of curiosity at your unexpected appearance.

"What do you want?" he growled, his voice low and gravelly, though there was a hint of warmth beneath the rough exterior.

You practically shoved the notebook in his face, your words tumbling out in a rush of excitement. "Look, look!" you exclaimed, your voice filled with enthusiasm. "I managed to write your name all by myself!"

Turpin raised an eyebrow in surprise, his gaze flicking down to the notebook in your hands. He noticed your uneven handwriting, the letters scrawled across the page with a shaky hand. But despite its imperfections, there was a sense of pride shining in your eyes, and Turpin couldn't help but feel a swell of emotion at the sight.

He leaned forward, squinting at the page as he read the name written there: "Richard Tupin." But as his eyes lingered on the misspelled name, he couldn't help but notice that the letter "R" was missing from "Turpin."

He pointed it out, his tone relentless as he questioned your mistake. "You forgot the 'R,'" he stated, his voice gruff with disapproval.

You withered under his scrutiny, your excitement fading as you realized your error. Turpin watched you closely, a pang of guilt tugging at his conscience at the sight of your crestfallen expression.

But before he could dwell on it further, he found himself trying to cheer you up, his words stumbling out in an awkward attempt to ease your disappointment. "The rest is right," he muttered, his voice softer now. "You just forgot the 'R.' It's not a big deal."

But you remained sad, your shoulders slumping as you stared down at the floor. Turpin hesitated, unsure of what to do next, before finally blurting out, "You did good."

The words hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken meaning. And he watched as your eyes lit up like a lamp, a wide smile spreading across your face at his unexpected praise.

Turpin relaxed slightly at the sight, a sense of warmth flooding through him at the realization that he had managed to make you happy. But of course, he couldn't let you see his softer side so easily.

He straightened up in his chair, adopting a stern expression as he pretended to be mad at you. "But don't let it happen again," he admonished, in a stern tone.

You nodded eagerly, your smile still in place as you thanked him profusely for his kind words. Turpin waved you off dismissively, though a small part of him couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at having made you smile.

He stubbed out his cigar, knowing that the smoke was harmful to pregnant women. He motioned for you to come sit on his lap, and you did so, feeling a sense of warmth and comfort as he wrapped his arms around you. Turpin held you close, his touch surprisingly gentle as he took his pen and instructed you to write his name again in the notebook.

You nodded eagerly, eager to please him and prove that you could do better this time. As you picked up the pen, you felt a surge of determination coursing through you, determined to make him proud.

You focused intently on the task at hand, your tongue poking out in concentration as you carefully formed each letter. Turpin watched you closely, his gaze softening as he observed your efforts.

As you finished writing, you handed the notebook back to Turpin, a sense of pride swelling within you at your accomplishment. He examined your work closely, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips as he noticed that you hadn't forgotten the letter "R" this time. But as he looked closer, he shook his head in mock disappointment.

"You forgot something," he teased, his voice filled with amusement.

You looked at him curiously, unsure of what he meant. Turpin brushed a lock of hair out of your face, his touch gentle and reassuring as he explained, "My full name is actually Richard William Turpin."

You gasped in surprise, your eyes widening in astonishment. "William?" you repeated, your voice filled with curiosity.

Turpin nodded, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes as he explained further. "Yes, William," he confirmed, his tone soft and affectionate. "It's a family name, passed down through the generations."

You listened intently as Turpin shared this piece of personal information with you, feeling a sense of warmth blooming within you at the intimacy of the moment. Despite his reputation as a stern and imposing figure, there was a softer side to him that you found yourself drawn to.

Turpin leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Now you know my secret. Will you keep it safe for me?"

You nodded eagerly, a smile spreading across your face as you leaned into his touch. "Of course, William," you replied, your voice filled with sincerity. "Your secret is safe with me."

Turpin smiled at your words, a sense of contentment washing over him at the realization that he could trust you with his innermost thoughts and feelings. In that moment, surrounded by the warmth and love of your embrace, he felt a sense of peace that he hadn't experienced in a long time.

And as the two of you sat there together, lost in each other's arms, Turpin couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope for the future. Despite the darkness that surrounded him, there was light to be found in your love, illuminating even the darkest corners of his soul.

Later that night Turpin gently woke in the dead of night, the darkness enveloping his opulent bedroom like a shroud. Confusion clouded his mind as he struggled to understand why he had been roused from his slumber.

Soft sighs and muted moans echoed through the room, drawing his attention to your form beside him. His eyes narrowed as he watched you squirming, your face contorted in pleasure, a hand hidden beneath your nightgown, exploring forbidden territory.

Turpin's blood ran cold as the realization dawned on him. How dare you? How dare you indulge in such lewd behavior without his permission? Your body belonged to him and him alone, and the thought of you pleasuring yourself without his consent filled him with a white-hot rage.

Turpin stood up in bed, his towering form casting a menacing shadow over you as he loomed above. The sudden movement alerted you, and you opened your eyes, freezing in fear as you saw the fury burning in his gaze.

"Filthy whore," Turpin spat, his baritone voice dripping with disdain. "How dare you?"

Your heart raced as he grabbed your wrist, his grip like a vice as he pulled your hand away from your own body. You winced at the pain, tears welling up in your eyes as you trembled under his furious gaze.

"I-I'm sorry," you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to... I just didn't want to disturb your sleep..."

Turpin's expression softened slightly at your apology, but his anger still simmered beneath the surface. "You know better than to touch yourself without my permission," he growled, his tone unforgiving. "You are mine, and your body belongs to me."

You nodded frantically, tears streaming down your cheeks as you begged for forgiveness. "I know, I know," you sobbed, your voice choked with emotion. "Please, I'm sorry..."

But Turpin didn't seem satisfied with your apology. He continued to berate you, calling you a depraved whore as you cowered before him. Your heart sank as his words cut through you like a knife, leaving you feeling small and insignificant in his presence.

"Shut up," he snapped, cutting off your pleas for mercy. "If that's what you wanted, then that's what you'll get."

With a rough motion, Turpin released your wrist, leaving you shaking with fear as you watched him. But instead of lashing out further, he surprised you by spreading your legs wide, exposing your dripping pussy to his hungry gaze.

You moaned softly as he took in your intoxicating scent, his tongue darting out to taste you. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure coursing through you, and you couldn't help but arch your back, offering yourself up to him willingly.

Turpin kept tasting you, his tongue tracing delicate patterns along your inner thighs as he savored your sweetness. It was rare for him to indulge in such acts of intimacy, but there was something different about you tonight, something that drew him in despite his anger. And he couldn't help but notice how much sweeter you seemed since the last time he had tasted you. Perhaps it was because of the pregnancy, he mused, a surge of desire coursing through you as a result of the changes happening within your body.

But despite the pleasure he found in your taste, Turpin couldn't shake the anger that simmered beneath the surface. He left marks on your thighs, his teeth sinking into your soft flesh as he marked you as his own.

You moaned in response to his ministrations, your cries of pleasure mingling with the sound of his name on your lips. "Ooh Richard," you gasped, your voice thick with desire. "Nhh– please..."

Turpin's grip tightened on your thighs, his touch possessive as he claimed you as his own. "You like that, don't you?" he growled, his voice rough with desire. "You like it when I mark you as mine."

You nodded frantically, your hips bucking against his mouth as you sought more of his touch. "Yes, yes," you whimpered, your voice pleading. "I'm yours, Richard. Only yours."

Turpin smirked at your admission, a sense of satisfaction washing over him at the sight of you submitting to him so completely. But even as he continued to indulge in his desires, the anger still lingered in the back of his mind, a reminder of your disobedience.

"You're a depraved little whore," he muttered, his words filled with contempt. "But perhaps it's just the pregnancy talking."

Suddenly he took your hand and pressed it against your pussy, his touch possessive as he guided your movements.

"Touch yourself," he commanded, his voice low and commanding. "I want to see you pleasuring yourself, just like you were before."

You blushed furiously at his words, feeling a sense of embarrassment at being caught in such a vulnerable moment. But Turpin didn't accept your hesitation, his gaze piercing as he watched you intently.

"Don't you dare be embarrassed," he growled, his tone firm and uncompromising. "You were touching yourself right there while I slept, weren't you? Now do as I say and touch yourself for me."

You nodded reluctantly, your cheeks burning with shame as you obeyed his commands. You tentatively circled your clit with your fingers, feeling a rush of pleasure coursing through you at the intimate contact.

But Turpin wasn't satisfied with your hesitant touches. He instructed you on what to do, his eyes fixed on you with unwavering intensity as he guided your movements.

"Stick a finger inside you," he ordered, his voice rough with desire. "I want to see you pleasuring yourself properly."

You hesitated for a moment, feeling a sense of emptiness as you complied with his demands. But as Turpin watched you, his gaze unwavering, you felt a surge of arousal coursing through you, driving you to obey his every command.

With trembling fingers, you slid a finger inside you, moaning softly at the sensation. Turpin's eyes darkened with desire as he watched you, a sense of satisfaction washing over him at the sight of you submitting to him so completely.

But as you continued to touch yourself, you couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that lingered within you. You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do next, before finally summoning the courage to speak.

"Judge," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper. "I... I want more."

Turpin's eyes widened in surprise at your words, his gaze softening slightly as he looked at you. He had never heard you address him by his title in the bedroom before, and the unexpected gesture sent a surge of arousal coursing through him.

"What do you want?" he asked, his voice rough with desire. "Tell me, my dear."

You swallowed nervously, feeling a sense of anticipation building within you. "I want... I want your fingers inside me," you admitted, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Turpin said nothing in response, his eyes fixed on you as he considered your request. But when he finally spoke, his voice was filled with promise.

"As you wish," he murmured, his tone filled with desire. "Lie back and let me take care of you."

You obeyed without hesitation, your heart pounding in your chest as you waited for Turpin to fulfill your desires. With a sense of anticipation, you spread your legs wide, offering yourself up to him willingly.

Turpin leaned in closer, his touch gentle and reassuring as he slid his fingers inside you. You moaned softly at the sensation, feeling a rush of pleasure coursing through you at his intimate touch. As he continued to pleasure you, his movements skilled and deliberate, you couldn't help but lose yourself in the ecstasy of the moment. With each thrust of his fingers, you felt yourself spiraling closer and closer to the edge of release, the pleasure building within you like a fire waiting to consume you.

"Richard," you moaned, your voice thick with desire. "Oh, yes, please... More..."

Turpin's lips curved into a satisfied smile at the sound of his name on your lips. With renewed determination, he leaned against you, careful not to put pressure on your pregnant belly. His hooked nose brushed against your cheek as he whispered in your ear, his baritone voice sending shivers down your spine.

"Call me judge," he commanded, his tone low and commanding. "Call me Judge Turpin."

You obeyed without hesitation, the words tumbling from your lips in a breathless whisper. "Judge... Turpin," you moaned, the name rolling off your tongue like a prayer.

Turpin's lips curled into a satisfied smile at the sound of his title on your lips. He delighted in the way you obeyed him, the way you surrendered to his desires without question. In that moment, you were his to command, his to please, his to control.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction. "Now, let me hear you moan for me."

You obliged eagerly, your moans filling the room as Turpin continued to pleasure you with his skilled touch. Each sound you made only spurred him on further, driving him to push you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy.

"Oh, yes," you gasped, your voice thick with desire. "Mmm, harder, please..."

Turpin obliged without hesitation, his movements becoming more urgent as he worked to bring you to the peak of pleasure. With each thrust of his fingers, he felt your body respond, the tension building within you like a coiled spring ready to snap.

"That's it, my dear," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "Let go for me. Give in to the pleasure."

And with a final, desperate cry, you did just that, your body shuddering with ecstasy as you succumbed to the waves of pleasure crashing over you. Turpin watched you with a sense of satisfaction, his own desire burning hot within him as he reveled in the sight of you surrendering to him completely.

As the two of you stood there, lost in the aftermath of passion, Turpin couldn't help but feel a sense of possessiveness wash over him. You were his wife, his property, under his control. And as long as you were with him, he would do whatever it took to keep you by his side, even if it meant resorting to illegal methods, he could do that because after all he was The Judge.

[queenshelby]

Daughter Dearest (Part Six)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (47) x Step! Daughter (21)

Warning: Infidelity, Smut, Dysfunctional Family

Tag List will be updated soon! Please comment and engage!

As the day progressed, some more wild weather had settled in, but that did not prevent Cillian from going out and picking up a delivery for you, namely some photographs you had developed externally from your recent travels.

Usually, you liked to do these things yourself, in a studio of your own, at least when utilising analog films, but this was not an option right now.  Cillian arrived home earlier than expected, his face still damp from the rain. The wind had picked up outside and the shutters beat against the brickwork of the house as he entered.

"Y/N," he called out, but you didn't answer. You had headphones on and was buried in one of your books.

He set the package down on the kitchen table and walked over to you, gently touching your shoulder. You looked up at him in surprise.

"I got your pictures," he said, pointing towards the table.

Your eyes lit up as you realized what he was referring to.

You pulled off your headphones and placed them next to you.

"Thank you so much for picking them up. You didn't have to," you exclaimed, beaming up at him, genuinely grateful.

"No problem," he replied with a soft smile. 

You jumped up from the couch, making your way over to the kitchen table. You noticed that the package was slightly damp from the rain.

Carefully, you unwrapped the package, revealing an envelope full of developed photographs while Cillian stood behind you expectadly.

"Would you like to see them?" you  asked, glancing back at him.

Cillian's gaze shifted between you and the envelope in your hands. He was curious, but he also didn't want to overstep any boundaries.

"Sure," he said finally, nodding his head. "I mean, unless they are too personal for you to share," he added quickly, remembering that you might not want him to see them.

You smiled at him, understanding what he meant. "I would love for you to see them," you told him, seeing how they weren't just random snaps. These photographs were part of your art and everything you photographed, especially during your last trip to Kenya, had a meaning.  They showed a snapshot of life there, its beauty, its harshness, and everything in between.

You opened the envelope, carefully taking out each photograph, placing them on the counter. The room was silent, the sound of the shutters beating against the brickwork still echoing. It made the whole scenario more magical, making you feel as if you were back in Africa, immersed in all its vastness and incredible beauty.

You picked up the first photograph, a black and white image of a woman carrying a baby on her back. Her face was etched with lines that showed the passing of time, but her eyes held a spark of life and strength.

Cillian leaned over your shoulder to get a better look.

"She's beautiful," he murmured, taking in the woman's stoic expression and the way she was cradling her child with such tenderness.

You smiled, glad that he could appreciate the photo's beauty.

"Yes, I took that picture when I visited a Maasai village," you said, feeling a sense of pride bubbling up inside you.

"Their way of life is so different from ours, but there's so much beauty in their simplicity."

Cillian nodded in agreement, completely captivated by the raw emotion conveyed in the photograph. He pointed to the next picture, which showed a group of children playing in a dirt field with a makeshift soccer ball. "These kids look so happy," he observed, admiration in his voice.

"They were! I spent an entire afternoon with them," you replied, feeling a fondness for those kids coming back.

"They don't have much, but they truly know how to enjoy the simple pleasures. It's quite inspiring."

Your voice trailed off as you went through more pictures, showing mostly people and their raw emotions. Each face told a story, and this was obvious to Cillian who watched you, mesmerized by your passion for photography. It was clear to him that this wasn't just a hobby for you, but a calling. He couldn't help but be impressed by your ability to capture moments, feelings, and the spirit of the places and people you've encountered.

You turned around to look at Cillian, noticing how he seemed lost in thought. " What's on your mind?" you asked him gently, your hand reaching out to touch his arm.

Cillian started and looked at you, his gaze softening as he saw the concern etched on your face. "Nothing, I am just...,"  he stammered, unable to put his feelings into words just yet.

"Just what?" you pressed, sensing that something was bothering him.

He licked his lips nervously, indecision etched on his face. "I think that you have a true gift Y/N. These photographs are  incredible," Cillian finally managed to say, his voice tinged with admiration.

You smiled, warmth spreading through you at the compliment, grateful for his acceptance and encouragement.

As the day went on, you, Cillian and you spent some more time together after, due to the bad weather, he had postponed his plan to catch up with his mate Dermont.  You noticed the easy way Cillian interacted with you and the way he listened intently as you spoke about your photography, understanding and appreciating the way it moved you. He even shared some of his stories from his early filming days, for a bit of nostalgia. 

Yet, despite this familiarity, there still lingered a sense of unspoken tension between the two of you. A pull that neither of you could explain or understand. It was an awkward dance of avoidance and stolen glances every so often.

The day after though, the weather cleared and Cillian went to see his best friend, meeting up with him for pint of Guiness downtown while you stayed at home.

You were still under house arrest and were only permitted to leave the property for an hour each day, during which you had to remain within a five-kilometer radius of where you lived. This was to permit you to exercise and attend to important matters, like shopping for essentials. 

These restrictions were frustrating, and the monitor had caused a rash to appear on your ankle, but you tried to stay positive. At least you weren't in jail.

While Cillian was out, you took the opportunity to call Nadine, asking her to come over but, unfortunately for you, she declined. She had an interview for a new job that day and really couldn't miss it.

As you spoke to Nadine, who appeared somewhat reserved over the phone and when you asked her about what was wrong, she revealed to you that she had heard rumors concerning your arrest. 

"I ran into Kevin at the hostel bar last night and I think it may have been Lucy who got the drugs into your bag,"  Nadine explained.

You frowned, feeling a surge of anger well up inside you. "But why would she do something like that?" you asked, incredulously.

Nadine sighed. "Well, apparently she was pretty pissed about you and Kevin having hooked up," Nadine explained, not condoning your mutual's friend's actions but clearly trying to explain the circumstances.

You scowled, frustration building up inside you at Lucy's pettiness. "But I haven't hooked up with Kevin at all," you hissed, your voice barely controlled. "In fact, most guys repulse me and that most certainly includes him,"  you added with a shiver of disgust.

Nadine remained silent for a minute, as if contemplating her next words carefully. "I know you didn't, but Lucy is pretty impulsive," she finally said, sympathetic. "Not that it makes it right though,"  she quickly added.

"But what am I supposed to do now?" you asked, frustrated. "I almost went to fucking jail because of her," you went on to say. 

Nadine sighed heavily. "Look, Y/N, I don't know, but I should really go now. I have that interview in half an hour,"  Nadine said, her voice gentle and concerned.

"I know, I am sorry," you said, feeling a pang of regret. "I shouldn't be ranting," you went on to say. 

"No, don't be silly. I'm always here for you, that's what friends are for," Nadine replied warmly. "But promise me that you won't do anything stupid," she added , feeling a sense of responsibility towards you.

You sighed heavily. "I won't," you answered, although this was far from the truth seeing how, as soon as Nadine hung up, you checked out Lucy's social media to see where she was at.

According to Instagram, she was still in town and you knew that you had to confront her. You wanted to get your name cleared and you wanted to tell her exactly what you thought of her. You were angry and you wanted her to know that you weren't someone to be messed with.

Thus, you quickly threw on a jacket, grabbed your sister's car keys, and headed out the door. The cold wind hit your face as you stepped outside, but you barely noticed. You were too focused on the task at hand.

As you drove towards the hostel, which was about nine kilometers away, your heart raced with anger. You couldn't believe that she had done something like this to you. You had never done anything to her, yet she had still decided to frame you.

The audacity of it all infuriated you, but you pushed past your rage and focused on the task at hand.

The hostel was crowded with young travelers, but you spotted her easily. She was sitting in the courtyard, sipping on an iced coffee and chatting with a tall blonde girl.

You approached her, feeling a surge of anger building up inside you. "Lucy," you said, your voice cool and controlled.

She looked at you, surprise flashing across her face. "Y/N?

What are you doing here?" she said, looking around nervously.

You ignored her question and cut to the chase. "Why did you plant drugs in my bag?" you demanded, anger tingeing your voice.

Lucy's eyes widened, and she looked at you in shock. "What? No, I didn't," she stammered, trying to deny it.

You raised an eyebrow, skepticism etched on your face. "Don't lie to me, Lucy. I know it was you," you told her sternly , your voice firm and unyielding.

She fidgeted, looking guilty as charged. "Fine. I did it. But I didn't mean for it to go this far," she whispered, finally admitting her wrongdoing.

"What do you mean you didn't mean for it to go this far?" You asked incredulously, not understanding why she would do something like this in the first place.

"I was drunk, and I heard about you hooking up with Kevin earlier that night.  It made me jealous, and in the heat of the moment, wanted you to get in trouble," Lucy confessed, tears streaming down her face.

You stared at her, shocked and angry. "You must be joking! How could you do something so stupid? I could have ended up in jail just because of your drunken fit of jealousy!" you shouted, your voice incredulous.

"I am so sorry Y/N. I even went to see you the morning after, just before you left, but you had already gone. I wanted to warn you and make it all right. I promise," Lucy said, sniffling and rubbing her eyes just as, suddenly, you watched as a police car pulled up into the hostel parking lot, and it was then when you looked down at your ankle, seeing a red light flashing on it.

"Oh fuck," you hissed, realisation dawning on you and, before you had time to act, Lucy got up and ran off while the officers were approaching you.

You stood there, frozen on the spot, with your heart pounding in your chest. You couldn't believe what was happening.

"Miss Y/N Y/LN?" one of the officers  called out, approaching you cautiously.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your shaking hands as the figure in uniform stepped closer.

"You are in breach of your  house arrest, Miss," the officer stated calmly, but with an underlying tone of authority.

You nodded dumbly, looking down at the monitor on your ankle. The red light blinked menacingly, betraying your location to the people who held your freedom in their hands.

"I'm sorry, I can explain," you stammered, attempting to reason with the officers in front of you. "I know who did what I got in trouble for and I came here to confront her," you said, quickly reaching for the device on your ankle, scratching your skin beneath.

"Well, ma'am, we will have to take you down to the station and you can call your next of kin and your solicitor when we get there,"  the second officer said, his tone stern but not unkind.

He and the first officer took hold of your arms, guiding you gently but firmly towards the patrol car parked outside the hostel.

As they led you away, you couldn't help but feel a wave of embarrassment sweep over you. What had you gotten yourself into? It was like a bad dream from which you couldn't wake up and, if they actually called your mother while she was on vacation, you knew you would never hear the end of it.

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