#manor house dining table

[sushibuild]

GREYSTONE MANOR

This is a modern classic luxury home, beautifully designed in black, white, and accented with gold. It features spacious areas, with the highlight being a Christmas tree placed in the open two-story staircase hall, perfectly ready for the upcoming holiday season. The home offers a variety of amenities, including a swimming pool, tennis court, guest house, barbecue area, outdoor dining table, bar area, and so much more. Celebrate the holidays and everyday living in unparalleled luxury!✨

Home Tour HERE

More info and Download link HERE

40 x 40 Lot in Brindleton Bay

Fully Furnished

4 Bedrooms (Master bedroom - Walk-in closet- Master bathroom , 1 kids room , 1 Teenager room , 1 Guest room ) & 4 Bathrooms

2 Living Room

Guest House

Dining room , Breakfast Area, Home office , Home Gym , Laundry room,

Outdoor Pool , Outdoor Cooking, and Living spaces

Tennis court only deco

Butler’s room

2 Car Garage

Fully play tested

Explore my collection to see all the builds I've released HERE

♡A huge thanks to the talented creators whose amazing CC transformed this house into a stunning space!♡

*Do not re-upload my builds and claim them as your own. Do not use my builds as a base to create another and upload them*

Socials : Patreon | Tiktok | Instagram

[milkbobatyun]

the brief taste of freedom

pairing: yandere!il capitano x reader

genre: angstober, events, yandere

summary: as the captain's wife, others thought the title brought power, fame and money. yet, it was weighed down by the chains of confinement. your yearning to escape had been caught by the captain. would you be able to escape, unscathed?

word count: 1k

C O N T E N T W A R N I N G : yandere behaviour, slight manipulation (?)

a/n: and with that, this fic marks the conclusion of angstober. i hope everyone reads them has enjoyed the fics as much as i have enjoyed writing them (though some were quite rushed LMAO) here where i live, it's already october 31st, so for those who celebrate halloween, happy halloween and have fun trick or treating !! (mini fun fact: this year, i did a home-made cosplay of choso and offered candy/scared children hehe ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

as a child, you had dreamed that love and marriage meant chaste kisses, long vows filled with love and adoration. you relished in the mirages of stunning dresses, chiming wedding bells and petals falling from heaven. but your hopes and fantasies were dashed when you were offered like a prize to the first harbinger, il capitano.

he was a quiet, stoic man of little words. it was no surprise that the wedding ceremony was subdued, a simple signing of a contract, the scratching of pen on paper replacing the chimes of wedding bells.

you should’ve expected this from a harbinger. he held total control over what you could do. your name as il capitano’s wife was merely a façade.

the weight of your title was a mockery. it was supposed to symbolise power, pride, even admiration from the nobles of snezhnaya, but it only brough you confinement and solitude. you had to ask his permission to leave the house, so you stuck to the shadows of the mansion, a wife in name only.

there were no late-night conversations, endearing glances, romantic dinners under candlelight. in fact, you spent most of your time dining alone, the grandfather clock’s rhythmic beats the only sound in the silence.

sometimes, you sat at your window, hearing the maids gossiping about a new festival in town, their laughter and chatter striking a pang of longing within your yearning heart.

he allowed you material things, but outings were out of the question. with every refusal, every permission denied, the fire in you grew stronger. you wanted to escape this frigid prison and experience life.

he knew of how you would sneak into the warmth of the greenhouse at night, peering up at the night sky of snezhnaya, relishing in the display of lights every night.

but recently, he had noticed footprints in the snow, ones that trailed from beneath your window. his butler informed him of how the madame would often retire early in the night, silence engulfing her quarters, with orders to not disturb her until the morning.

il capitano didn’t think there would be a day when he caught you, sneaking away under the watchful gaze of the stars.

il capitano stood by the floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the gardens like a silent guardian. in the distance, he could see the warm glow of festival lights, the people bustling like ants.

nursing a glass of wine in his hand, il capitano watched the people mill about.

suddenly, in the shadows of the garden, he caught sight of a huddled figure, wrapped in the silken sheets of your blankets. they clung to the shadows, feet treading carefully in the ice cold, white powder.

anger seized him in its ugly grip. how dare you sneak out of the manor, when he provided you everything you could ask for. his clawed hand tightened against the wine glass, almost crushing the fragile object in his grasp.

silently, he abandoned the cracked glass on the nearest table, his furred cloak settled around his shoulders as he stalked towards the door, footsteps echoing with the intent to confront the one who dared to escape from his grasp.

you were so close to the hole in the garden wall, freedom just a mere few steps away.

your movements are stilled as a cold, clawed hand crushes your wrist in its wrathful grasp, fear coursing down your spine, turning you into an icy statue.

“where,” his voice growled, a threatening edge to his voice. “do you think you’re going?” the cold, no, fear rendered you speechless, your teeth chattering against each other.

“the…the festival,” you manage to whimper out, face grimacing at the force of his grasp on your wrist. you were certain it would be turning tender purple and blue the next morning. your breath was caught in your throat, the last warm puff of air suspended in the air, as though it was holding its breath, waiting to see what the captain would say.

“your little games, it ends here, tonight, in this very garden,” il capitano hisses, his grip unrelenting. under his armour, he could feel how your pulse raced, its rhythm erratic and feeble.

with your remaining hand, you clutched the blanket tighter around you. il capitano could see, underneath, you had donned the plain clothes of commoners.

fury consumed him like a flame. he gave you premium silks from liyue, commissioning the famous lady chiori to design your outfits based on the latest trends. and yet, you lower yourself to the level of those lowly ants and don their filthy clothes.

a muscle twitched in il capitano’s jaw, but your view is obscured by his heavy helmet.

il capitano weighed his choices carefully.

forbid you from leaving and lose your favour or let you go to the festival and risk you running away.

neither seemed favourable to his calculating mind, so he chose to compromise. he would sacrifice his precious time to accompany you to the commoner’s festival.

with a heavy sigh, il capitano relented.

“if you are so intent on mingling with the commoners,” he sighed, voice edged with disdain, “then i will accompany you.”

lit only by the faint moonlight, he watched as astonishment and joy settled into your features, your brows raised in surprise. il capitano, the feared harbinger, would spare a morsel of his time to accompany his wife to a festival hosted by ordinary snezhnaya citizens?

that was unheard of, unprecedented. who knew what rumours the nobles, with an abundance of free time on their hands, would gossip.

the il capitano, going soft for his wife. utterly scandalous.

“but…” the words had barely escaped your lips before you hastily shut your mouth, intent that no more words fell from your lips, lest it cause him to change his mind.

“enough.” his tone was final, leaving no space for argument. “you will have your night, however, you will be under my watch and,” he continued, voice laced with disgust. “you will change out of those filthy clothes before you leave.”

it wasn’t a statement you had wanted, for you didn’t desire to draw attention to yourself when you attended such events, however, something in his voice held a glimmer of a sharp, hidden weapon, a clear warning: this fantasy of escaping would end here, he would not be lenient.

for tonight, your freedom had been granted. you could only pray to the archons that il capitano would feel good humoured enough to accompany you once more, at another time.

taglist (open): @leehanscorydora, @pastelmitzuki

∧,,,∧ ( ̳• · • ̳)  © curated with love by milkbobayun 2024 / づ ♡

[coldilikeit]

Yandere Batfam x Camp half-blood (Neglected reader)

DC x Pjo

Part 2

______________

"why can't my parent just claim me? My human parent doesn't like me, and now you're telling me there's a chance my godly parent might not even care about me at all?" You huff kicking a rock while walking to the dining pavilion

Annabeth's eyes fill with sympathy "You never know, maybe they're just busy"

"busy my ass... I've heard that excuse so many times before" you sit down at the Hermes table, where all the unwanted children sit

"So (Name), are you going to be a year round student or just for the summer, because we're gonna need Mr.D to sign you in" Travis Stoll one of the head counselors says to you

You think about it for a while, you saw how other children treated each other like family, how there was a director who loves the children as his own, you could find your place here, it doesn't matter if you have parents, you could find your family, just as everyone else in this camp did

"I-" then you stop, you mind going back to the Manor, how you left the hallways burning, and now you're missing, are they worried? Do they want to find you? What if they think you set the house on fire? Would you even have a home to return to?

It's not like you were as loved as Jason who could just die and come back

This set your decision, you are never going back to that cold mansion, you are never going to sleep in a silent room, here, you could build a life for yourself

"I'd like to stay year round" you say

"well that settles it, I'll explain the rules to you later 'kay?" He says

The infamous Mr.D seemingly groaned, you're pretty sure you heard him mumbling "another fucking kid"

___________________

Two days have passed, you feel like the happiest kid on earth

Annabeth is doing this thing where she's trying to help you find your godly parent, you couldn't care less(or could you?), but listen-

Yesterday you just shot 25 consecutive bullseyes and you've never felt so amazing, everyone was clapping their hands and we're praising you, and everyone was saying you were a natural at farming, sword fighting was one you enjoyed, you know a thing or two about combat so you gained respect from the other campers

But even after all those achievements, no one came to claim you

Now you're trying blacksmithing, you loved all the things you did but... The weapons were kinda ugly, every sword in the weaponry looked the same, only special kids get customized swords, so you were kinda hoping to make your own custom weapons and stuff, I mean no parent is gonna give it to you

"Hello!" You smile at the busy forgers, they acknowledge and some nod and some smile back

____________________

Tim looks at CCTV cameras, his eyes wide and in disbelief

A random woman, who somehow broke into the Manor, with a flamethrower, burned a hallway down

He saw this kid, well his little sibling, but I don't think it's appropriate to call you that, you ran crying for help- well you weren't crying for help exactly but you were screaming, you were seen running for your life away from this madwoman

whom he'll safely assume is one of his father's ex lovers or some villain that decided to get back at him

The problem was you.

No sign of you at all

Batman had everyone patrolling, Bruce Wayne reported you missing, a prize reward given to the one who'll find you dead or alive (alive hopefully)

There was this image he couldn't get out of his mind

In the middle of trying to salvage what could be saved in that fire... He spotted a family picture, a picture where everyone was still visible- and only your face had been burned off

He tried to help with the search, thinking about where you could go, what you could do, but he couldn't

He didn't know how you acted or how you'd decide

He knew nothing about you, and so did the others, it was like you were already dead before it was even confirmed

Damian walked in the room "you're still here? Dad already got the JL to help with search, quit trying to show them up"

"I just don't get it, she ran to the garden, but she wasn't there- could there be other villains waiting in the garden and took her? I don't know-"

The demon spawn scoffed "Anyways dad wants you to send the CCTV footage to JL, they said they'll analyze it or something"

Tim was doubtful, it's not like anyone there could spot what he couldn't, he was very observant (of everyone but (name) apparently)

____________________

Sorry it took a long time for me to update 😞, it was pt week and I had a lot of projects

But I wonder who could possibly be (name)'s godly parent?and who could spot what Tim couldn't?

@bat1212 @jisnothere @erikasurfer @nathaly36

[ohisms]

↪     𝑺𝑬𝑻𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺 , HISTORICAL 〳 FANTASY edition !   (  a  collection  of  25  settings  based upon the period 〳 fantasy genres ; meant  to  inspire  drabbles  or  be  used  as  prompts . WILL be updated .   )

001. the interior of an elegant carriage .

002. seated at a large dining table set with an elaborate meal .

003. the shadowy corner of a lively tavern .

004. the top of a light house during a raging storm .

005. along the dimly lit corridor of a large manor .

006. the damp , dark brig of a pirate ship .

007. the ruins of an ancient structure lost to time .

008. a theater hall brimming with attendees .

009. the bustling streets of a market town .

010. a sun - drenched vineyard .

011. along a boardwalk overlooking the sea .

012. a moonlit cemetery full of weathered graves .

013. on horseback , deep in the woods .

014. a luxurious drawing room smelling of tea .

015. a sprawling dragon roost , hidden atop craggy mountain peaks .

016. a war - torn battlefield .

017. a beautiful cathedral bustling with churchgoers .

018. within a crammed opera box during a performance .

019. an elegant tearoom serving afternoon refreshments .

020. a lakeside pavilion on an especially hot day .

021. a sprawling network of underground catacombs .

022. a hidden glade in the middle of the woods .

023. the deep , dark dungeon of a castle .

024. a market square full of fruit and fineries .

025. a baker's shop smelling of wonderful pastries .

026. the quiet stables of a large estate .

027. on the outskirts of a magnificent water fountain .

028. in a dimly lit library , hidden amongst the books .

029. among the high walls of a hedge maze .

030. at the front desk of a warm , homey inn .

031. under the protection of a gazebo as it rains .

032. on the landing of a busy train station .

033. a gambling hall alight with raucous laughter and drink .

034. a pristine infirmary , mostly empty .

035. on board a huge ship making a long voyage .

+   20  more  setting  prompts :    6 / 01 / 2024

036. in a sunlit garden adorned with blooming flowers .

037. at the edge of a serene forest lake under a starry sky.

038. within a quiet corridor of a castle during a lavish ball .

039. in a bustling blacksmith's forge , sparks flying .

040. on a rocky cliffside overlooking a vast ocean .

041. in a quaint village square during a festival .

042. within a secret chamber hidden behind a bookshelf .

043. in the grand atrium of a luxurious hotel .

044. along a narrow brick alleyway in a crowded town .

045. within a busy marketplace in a desert town .

046. on a tranquil beach at sunrise .

047. in a cozy cottage with a crackling fireplace .

048. at the helm of a majestic airship soaring through the clouds .

049. in a grand library filled with ancient tomes .

050. on a bustling harbor dock as ships come and go .

051. within a magical forest where the trees glow softly .

052. in an apothecary's shop filled with herbs and potion .

053. at a secluded cabin by a dangerously quick river .

054. within the opulent throne room of a powerful ruler .

055. in an enchanted glade where fairies dance in the moonlight .

[breannasfluff]

Etiquette Lessons

@writingmask Hope you enjoy your gift!

Alfred Pennyworth has a lot of jobs in the Wayne Manor—some stranger than others. One that falls to him with each new addition in the house: etiquette training. As a butler, this shouldn’t be a difficult lesson. Because this is Wayne’s brood, it is an…experience.

“Master Richard, flipping off the stairs to make an entrance is not acceptable at a Gala. Nor is using the chandeliers as a trapeze; you are not the dinner entertainment.”

“Master Jason, kindly return the silverware to the table instead of your pocket. I am happy to find you something else to…hold on to rather than my silver dining set.”

“Master Timothy, this is an informal event. While proper manners are a sign of good breeding, the formality is laying it on a bit thick.”

“Master Damian, knives are for cutting your food. You will not need to assassinate your dinner partner.”

“Master Duke, simply ignore anything else your family does at the dinner table and you will do just fine.”

And now there’s a new teen sitting at the dining table, being instructed on etiquette for formal events.

“Master Danny, you do not need to spear your meatloaf as if this is a jousting match. Try adjusting your hold to wrap around the handle like so, instead.” Alfred holds up his own utensil to demonstrate.

Danny Fenton, the most recent addition hanging around Wayne Manor, does not look convinced.

“It is not going to come alive and bite you,” Alfred tries again.

“Shows what you know.”

The grumble is low enough he’s not supposed to hear it, so Alfred lets it pass. It’s certainly not the worst thing grumbled at him during family lessons.

Danny stabs his meatloaf with the correct grip while massacring it with the accompanying knife.

Read the rest here!

[rheya28]

The Oasis Restaurant ♥ The Sims 4: Speed Build // CC

Welcome to The Oasis, where the desert oasis meets tropical charm. Nestled in the heart of Oasis Springs, this restaurant features lush greenery, cascading water features, and earthy tones that will transport you to a tranquil oasis amidst the desert sands.

➽ Speed Build Video

➽ Build Notes

● I used alot of foliage on the ceiling for photo taking purposes, and it can be difficult to see inside when playing. Feel free to delete some/all! ● I also used table settings on the table. Please delete them if you're using this for gameplay as the food will not show up if you dont.

➽ Important Notes:

●Please make sure to turn bb.moveobjects on! ● Please DO NOT reupload or claim as your own. ● Feel free to tag me if you are using it, I love seeing my build in other peoples save file ● Feel free to edit/tweak my builds, but please make sure to credit me as the original creator! ● Thank you to all CC Creators ● Please let me know if there's any problem with the build

➽ Lot Details

Lot Name: The Oasis Lot type: Restaurant Lot size: 30 x 20 Location: Oasis Spring

➽ MODS

● Tool Mod by Twisted Mexi

➽ CC List

Note: I reuse a lot of the same cc in all my builds, specifically cc's from felixandre, HeyHarrie, Tuds, and Pierisim so if you're interested in downloading past, present, future build from me i suggest getting all their cc sets to make downloading a little easier! other creators include Sooky, Charlypancakes, Sixam, Thecluttercat, Myshunosun, awingedllama, Peacemaker, kiwisim4. This will also ensure that the lots are complete and are not missing any items upon downloading ! Around the Sims 4 ● Shop sign - Music, front Bbygyal123 ● Abstract Prints Blueteas ● Samara Dining FelixAndre ● Chateau pt [2] ● Colonila pt [1][2][3] ● Florence pt [1][4] ● Shop the look 2 ● Grove pt [1] Harrie ● Brutalist ● Klean pt [2][3] ● Kwatei pt [1] ● Octave pt [2] ● Shop the look 2 ● Spoons pt [2][3] ● Orjanic House of Harlix ● Jardane Max20 ● Cozy Backyard Lilaccreative ● Jewelry store Sign LittleDica ● Rise & Grind My cup of cc ● Maple Manor the Modernist Peacemaker ● Creta Kitchen ● Elsie bedroom ● GentrlyDraping Pierisim ● Domaine Du Clos pt [3] ● MCM pt [1][3] ● Pantry Party ● Winter Garden pt [2] ● Woodland Rach pt [1] Sixam ● Small spaces pantry Syboulette ● Advent 2022 [ceiling lamp] Taurus Design ● Lilith Chilling Areas Tuds ● Cross ● Ind Rustic Sims ● Mexicbeach

● DOWNLOAD Tray File and CC list: Patreon Page ● Origin ID: anrheya [previous name: applez] ● Twitter: Rheya28__ ● Tiktok: Rheya28__ ● Youtube: Rheya28__

[toast-on-dandelioms]

__Just Another Neglected Story__

Years passed and you were now 16, almost mute but with a few friends from school, the only place where no one knew you were a Wayne since you refused to take his surname.

This is the part 2 of this

You wanted your mother's surname, you refused to let go of that small part that you still had of her. You refused to let go of that and be replaced by a surname from a person that hated you.

You still had some dignity.

You were happy, you finally had your small place where no one could ruin it and you didn't even care that your supposed family didn't even know who you were.

But everything changed when you went to that damn interview to a scientist lab in a big corporation, you needed money for yourself and knowledge to better your inventions and the corporation you went to was better than any Wayne industry.

You were accepted obviously and after a few months you were on a good position as a part timer and helped with experiments with rats and spiders.

What those experiments were? You didn't know and honestly from what you saw when you were allowed to spectate an experiment in process, the animals almost never died and if they did then they would be honored with a small photo on a wall, to thank them for their help.

You were taking a few subjects to their enclosures and while letting a spider inside its little cage, the little legs of it running down your hand and making you shiver a bit but you did a mistake that all your superiors told uou to never make.

You accidentally moved while trying not to drop another animal that was on the table since it kept moving closer to the edge, scaring the spider and making you get bit by it in the process, the sting of the bite making you almost fall down but not before putting the spider in its cage and closing it.

Then you allowed yourself to fall down and hold the injured hand on the chest as you held back the tears by biting your lips and repeating a mantra you had so that you wouldn't seem weak.

You stayed on the ground for a few minutes, waiting for the sting on your hand to stop hurting so much.

You did notice the spider was a venomous one but that only paralyzed the prey making you scared, not wanting to be found paralyzed and get fired after making a stupid mistake.

You kept on reading the file and thanked whatever god was out there that the venom wasn't strong enough to paralyze a human but just making them a bit dizzy, explaining why you felt so dizzy like you drank five bottles of beer.

You finally got up after the bite stopped stinging and pulsing, making you wobble a bit and check the reports about the spider but it didn't said anything about any experiments made on the animal but you were a bit suspicious about it.

You went to the small lab you shared with a few other interns, starting a few tests on yourself to make sure you wouldn't die or have something horrible happen to your body because of some weird mutation.

You checked every test you ran on yourself, making sure to not have missed anything but it didn't showed any changes so you decided to wait until the new day to see if it was a delayed response from the bite.

You decided to go back to the Manor since it's been days and you couldn't sleep at another friend house again, not wanting to bother them with your 'family' problems.

You managed to get there safely enough by taking the bus, entering silently by the front door and just passing by the kitchen while ignoring the loud noises from the dining hall, knowing that they're probably celebrating something and didn't even try to invite you.

You finally arrive to your room, smiling softly at the plate on your desk filled with food and silently thanking Alfred in your mind since you just realised you didn't eat much that day.

You quickly sit down and eat everything with a big smile, making sure to clean the plate and leaving it on a table next to your door outside of your room to thank Alfred, not wanting to do the trip to the kitchen and risk being seen and seeing all of them look at you with confusion as to why you were there.

Like they didn't even remember that you lived there and were surprised that you were there. You hated whenever they looked at you like that.

You finally plop down in bed, face first and fall asleep in a few seconds, not even bothering to change or take a shower since you were exhausted.

You woke up the next day and as you got up you noticed that something changed in your body.

Not something noticeable like a new set of eyes or a new pair of arms like Stitch from Lilo and Stitch, but you felt more flexible.

Like, you were already pretty good at moving your body thanks to the dance lessons you used to take but now you could move your body in positions you never thought were possible.

Your eyesight was also incredibly better and more enhanced, like you could see from pretty far away without having to squint to see it.

You immediately thought of the spider and its bite so you checked the wound but there was nothing, just two small moles (the small black spots) where the bite was supposed to be.

You quickly went to school, deciding to do a few more tests when you would get to the lab to make sure you didn't have anything dangerous in your body.

The day seemed more slow than usual, making you skip school just after an hour in there and quickly go to the corporation you worked at, using the excuse that school was closed because of a sudden villain attack.

No one even questioned it, they just let you in and went on with their day, not even bothering to check since you were in Gotham so that was normal.

You quickly walked to your lab, immediately starting a few more tests on yourself and sighing in defeat when all the results were the same.

Your blood was mixed with the spider on and you were now half spider. You sighed and worked before clocking in early, slowly going to an abandoned park to check what you now had to just learn to live with it.

You ran a few tests on the field, wanting to see what you now had with the DNA of the spider in your body.

You already checked the sight and flexible factor in a small notebook, adding super strenght, weirdly precise reflexes that also helped you when you were in danger.

You just now needed to see if you could walk on walls like spiders, really hoping you could since you wanted to see how that felt like.

You walked up to a deserted building and took off your shoes and socks before setting one foot on the wall, noticing that you couldn't really take it off.

You tried with the other foot and now you were standing sideways on the wall, making you laugh in glee since it was so freaking cool.

You quickly ran around the building walls before getting to the roof and sitting down on the edge since you were tired.

You thought to yourself to just live with these newfound powers, if you can call them that but then noticed many people walking around and being scared.

You noticed how, even though Batman and everyone else kept the streets clean from super villains, small time thieves and other bad people still ran around even after being caught and brought to jail.

You knew you weren't strong enough before but you now had a small advantage over them and decided to help people, make the streets a bit cleaner.

You would never go and fight big villains but small ones were easy so you quickly went to the manor to start your training, wanting to help others.

You first started by creating the costume, making sure to hide your face pretty well since you refused to let anyone know who you were, even though you were a nobody that not even the media knew about.

You then started to create your own vigilante, giving yourself the name of 'Spider', like the hero Spider-Man from the comics you used to read.

Hey, you got bit by a spider and decided to follow that theme, no judgement on that.

You created the web fuel and used a grappling hook that was lying around to create a web shooter, making sure to make it hidden on your wrists.

Then you started to train in the abandoned park that no one ever walked by, using the trees around it and the buildings as a way to learn how to swing around.

You also learned how to fight by spying your "family", recording how they fought and their weak and strong points to also learn from it.

In 2 months you officially became 'Spider', the new spider vigilante that helped the people from small thieves so no one had to be scared to walk on the streets.

You also used a taser if you couldn't fight against someone stronger and you didn't want to kill them with your super strenght, and the taser was the best move.

You didn't even notice but you started to become famous amongst the city, especially after helping a bus from falling off a brige and stopping a well known rapist after the police did nothing.

You just kept going, happy to help and thinking no one even noticed, not noticing that your "family" also started to notice the new vigilante and was starting to ask questions about who it was behind the mask.

But their curiosity may never be satisfied.

Tag List

@victoria1676 @cattioo @gaozorous-rex-blog @mylittlediarys-stuff @simpingfor-wakasa @mamapucket

[phantom-0-writer]

prompt 02: tim’s birthday present

Tim sat in his empty house at the empty dining table. The table was actually quite large; it had enough seats to sit at least 15 people. But there was just Tim there. 

His parents had promised and sworn up and down that they would come back in time for his birthday. He had everything planned out. He picked out the birthday cake, put on the candles, decorated, ordered his parents' favorite foods, his parents' favorite movie for movie night, popcorn the likes. But that morning, just when Tim was double checking to make sure everything was ready for the most perfect birthday ever, his parents had called to tell him that something really important had come up, and they wouldn’t be able to make it. Tim figured it was better than last year, at least they called this time. 

Tim stared down at the cake, the candles lit. He had heard online that people would make wishes on their birthday cake and blow it out. Tim thought that was a weird thing to do, but it wouldn’t hurt to try. 

What should he wish for? It would have to be something special that he doesn’t already have. Tim thought for a long moment, the candles bleeding into the frosting of the cake. 

A brother. 

Tim closed his eyes and put his hands together like he’s seen the other children to do in the cartoons. And Tim wished for a big brother. When he finally wished hard enough (whatever that meant) he opened his eyes and blew out what was left of the candles. 

Tim waited. What exactly was he supposed to do now? In the cartoons, everyone would celebrate and cheer and the birthday boy would open his presents. There wasn’t anyone to cheer for Tim, or any presents for him to open. 

Suddenly the house shook, and the loud sound of a crash sound came from the backyard. Quickly, Tim did the sensible thing and go check out what the noise was. That's what the characters always did in horror movies. 

In Tim’s backyard, there was what looked like a weird space ship that had crashed into his backyard. There wasn’t any fire or anything, but the spaceship looked pretty wrecked. Getting closer, Tim could vaguely make out that someone was inside the spaceship. Looking around, he saw what looked like maybe the handle. Tim couldn’t really tell. 

When Tim put his hand on it and tried to open it, something poked out mechanically and pricked his finger. He flinched back instinctively, caressing his finger tip.

“Recognized: Danny Fenton. System Override.” A robotic lady spoke. Who is Danny Fenton? As if to answer him, the space ship opened its hatch, and inside was an unconscious black haired teenager. “System Malfunctioning. Please Assis-” The robotic voice spoke again, before getting cut off as if the power had died. 

Suddenly, Tim remembered his wish. A big brother. 

This was Danny Fenton, and he was supposed to be Tim’s big brother

----

When Danny woke up, he found himself in a very soft plush something. Something that definitely wasn’t the Spector Speeder. Alarmed, he sat up quickly to find that he didn’t recognize where he was at all. He also didn’t recognize the weird kid that was staging at him from two feet away. 

“Hi, I’m Tim. Timothy Drake.” The boy introduced himself almost business like. 

“Uh, hi Tim.” Danny responded awkwardly. “You got any idea where I am?” Danny sat up properly, moving the blanket (?) off of him and turned to face the weird and kinda creepy kid. 

“You’re in Drake Manor. Which is where I live.” He answered again. 

“Ok…ay” Danny nodded thoughtfully. “Any idea how I got here?” Truthfully, Danny hadn’t really been expecting an answer, but he still got one. 

“Because I made a birthday wish to have a big brother.” He answered in the same way he had answered the other question, very matter-of-factly. 

“Ok- Wait. What?” Danny asked, doing a double take at Tim. 

“You’re supposed to be my big brother, right?” Tim was starting to look a little hesitant, and as weirded out as Danny felt he couldn’t help but feel bad about the whole situation. 

“Where are your parents, Tim?” 

“There not home, because they had really important things to do for work.” 

Danny nodded. “Do you know when they’ll be back?” 

Tim shook his head. “They were supposed to come back today, because it’s my birthday. But they said they couldn’t make it.” 

Well, shit. Didn’t that sound awfully like Danny’s birthdays before he had given up on his parents showing up. At least he had Jazz. This kid looked like he was alone. 

Not liking the silence, Tim started fidgeting again. “So, are you gonna be my brother, then?” 

And what was Danny supposed to say, No? Besides, if he was really causing problems being in this random universe, then Clockwork would figure it out. 

Bonus: 

Danny sat at Tim’s dinner table, the kid looking at him radiating in excitement, each with a plate of stupid expensive pasta in front of them. “You said your name was Tim, right?” Danny started thoughtfully. Tim nodded, drinking up everything Danny said. “Well, first course of action as you, big brother. I need to give you a nickname.” 

Tim’s eyes sparkled at the prospect. “Like what?”

Danny tapped his chin exaggeratedly, “Hm… Tim, Tim.” Turing the name around while he absentmindedly twirled his fork between his fingers, Danny wondered what he should come up with. Suddenly, in a misplaced strength, Danny’s fork flew out of his hand. 

Before Danny could even say anything, “I’ll get you a new one!” Tim offered quickly. Getting up from his chair, his foot got tangled behind the leg of the chair and Tim fell quietly on the floor with an oof. 

Danny laughed at him. “You okay, Timbers?” He asked, getting up to check on the boy. 

“Yeah, I like Timbers.” Tim said, a bright smile on his face despite the blossoming bruise on his arm.

------------

table of contents

[okasuka]

Damian wayne x reader - breakfast!

A Night in Wayne Manor

The drive back to Wayne Manor was quiet but charged with unspoken tension. Y/N could feel Damian’s hand brushing hers on the center console, his occasional glances in her direction enough to make her cheeks warm. By the time they arrived, her pulse was racing, and she wondered if he felt the same.

As the two of them entered the grand manor, the imposing silence of the house seemed to amplify the sound of their footsteps on the marble floor. The rest of the family appeared to be elsewhere, leaving them blissfully alone.

“Want to come up?” Damian asked suddenly, his voice breaking the silence.

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “To your room?”

He gave her a pointed look. “Unless you’d rather chat with Alfred about proper table settings.”

She smirked, following him up the sweeping staircase. “I’ll take my chances with you.”

Damian led her to his room—a surprisingly minimalist space, considering the grandeur of the rest of the manor. The walls were painted a deep green, accented with black furniture and shelves filled with books, weapons, and the occasional keepsake. A large window overlooked the estate grounds, and a simple bed with crisp black sheets dominated the room.

Y/N took a moment to take it all in before turning to Damian, who had already removed his jacket and tossed it onto a nearby chair. He looked at her expectantly, his gaze softening.

“You can sit, you know,” he said, gesturing to the bed.

She nodded, perching on the edge of the mattress. “So… nice place. Very… you.”

Damian smirked, sitting beside her. “Thanks. I try.”

The room fell quiet again, the weight of the moment settling over them. Y/N fiddled with the hem of her shirt, suddenly unsure of what to say.

“Y/N,” Damian said, his voice softer now.

She looked up, meeting his gaze. He leaned in slowly, giving her plenty of time to pull back if she wanted to. But she didn’t. Instead, she closed the distance between them, her lips meeting his in a kiss that started gentle but quickly deepened.

Damian shifted closer, one hand finding her waist while the other cradled the back of her head. Y/N’s hands slid up his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her fingertips. The kiss grew more urgent, their breaths mingling as the world outside the room faded away.

He pulled her onto his lap, his arms wrapping around her as their kisses became more fervent. Y/N’s fingers tangled in his hair, and she couldn’t help but smile against his lips as he let out a quiet, involuntary sigh.

“Damian,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Hmm?” he replied, his lips moving to her jaw, trailing soft, deliberate kisses down to her neck.

“This is… new,” she managed, her mind spinning.

“Is this okay?” he asked, pulling back slightly to look at her.

Y/N nodded, her cheeks flushed. “Yeah. It’s just… you’re full of surprises, Wayne.”

He smirked, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You have no idea.”

The two of them continued for what felt like hours, their movements a careful balance of exploration and restraint. Damian’s hands never strayed too far, and Y/N felt safe in the cocoon of his warmth. Eventually, though, they pulled apart, both of them breathless and smiling.

“We should probably stop,” Damian said, though his tone was reluctant.

Y/N nodded, leaning her forehead against his. “Yeah. Before Dick shows up again.”

Damian groaned. “Don’t even joke about that.”

She laughed, sliding off his lap and settling back onto the bed beside him. They stayed like that for a while, their hands entwined as they talked quietly about everything and nothing, the tension between them replaced by a comfortable intimacy.

The Morning After

The smell of coffee and fresh pastries drifted through the air as Y/N made her way down to the manor’s dining room the next morning. She’d woken up in the guest room Damian had insisted she use, her heart still fluttering from the previous night.

As she entered the room, she was greeted by the sight of the entire Bat-family seated around the table. Alfred was setting down a tray of food, while Bruce sipped his coffee, reading the morning paper. Dick and Jason were bickering over a stack of pancakes, their voices carrying across the room.

Damian was already seated, his usual stoic expression softening as he glanced up and saw her.

“Morning,” Y/N said, sliding into the seat beside him.

“Good morning, Miss Y/N,” Alfred said warmly. “I trust you slept well?”

“Very well, thank you,” she replied, smiling at the older man.

Jason leaned back in his chair, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Well, well, look who’s finally joined us. Have a good night, Y/N?”

Y/N felt her cheeks heat as she caught the knowing look in Jason’s eyes. “Uh, yeah. Thanks.”

Dick chimed in, his grin matching Jason’s. “And how’s our little Damian this morning? Feeling… relaxed?”

Damian shot them both a warning glare. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” Dick asked innocently. “I’m just making conversation.”

“Sure you are,” Damian muttered, stabbing a piece of fruit with unnecessary force.

Bruce lowered his newspaper, glancing between his sons with a raised eyebrow. “Do I want to know?”

“No,” Damian said quickly.

“Yes,” Jason and Dick said in unison, their grins widening.

“Boys,” Alfred interrupted, his tone firm but amused. “Perhaps we should let Master Damian and Miss Y/N enjoy their breakfast in peace.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Jason quipped, grabbing another pancake.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, despite her embarrassment. “I see teasing runs in the family.”

“You have no idea,” Damian muttered, earning a round of laughter from the table.

The rest of the meal passed with a mix of playful banter and light conversation. Y/N found herself feeling surprisingly at ease, even as Dick and Jason continued to throw the occasional teasing comment her way.

As they finished eating, Dick leaned across the table, a sly smile on his face. “So, Y/N, any plans for today? Or are you and Damian going to… hang out?”

Damian groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Grayson—”

“What?” Dick said, feigning innocence. “I’m just asking.”

Jason chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “You’re not gonna let him live this down, are you?”

“Not a chance,” Dick said, grinning.

Bruce sighed, setting down his coffee. “And this is why I don’t invite people over for breakfast.”

Y/N laughed, her heart light as she glanced at Damian. Despite the teasing, she couldn’t help but feel grateful for the chaotic warmth of the Wayne family—and for the boy beside her, who made it all worthwhile.

A Morning Full of Blushes

After breakfast, the Wayne family dispersed—Jason disappearing to the garage, Dick heading to the training room, and Bruce retreating to his study. Damian and Y/N lingered in the dining room, savoring the rare moment of quiet.

Y/N glanced at Damian, her cheeks still warm from the teasing she’d endured. “Is it always like this here?”

Damian sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Unfortunately, yes. Grayson and Todd have made it their life’s mission to annoy me.”

“Seems like they enjoy it,” she teased, her lips twitching into a smile.

“They do,” Damian said, his tone deadpan. “It’s infuriating.”

Y/N laughed, reaching out to place a hand on his arm. “I think it’s kind of sweet. In their own weird way, they’re just looking out for you.”

Damian glanced down at her hand, the corners of his mouth softening. “They have a strange way of showing it.”

The moment stretched between them, warm and quiet. Y/N realized her hand was still on his arm and quickly pulled it back, her cheeks heating.

“I—uh, sorry,” she stammered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Don’t be,” Damian said, his voice quieter now. He reached out, hesitating for a moment before gently taking her hand.

Y/N’s breath hitched as she looked up at him. “Damian?”

“I meant what I said last night,” he said, his green eyes steady on hers. “Being with you… it’s new for me. But it feels right.”

Y/N’s heart swelled at his words, her fingers curling around his. “It feels right for me too.”

They sat like that for a while, their hands intertwined, before Damian finally stood. “Come on,” he said, tugging her to her feet. “I want to show you something.”

The Manor Grounds

Damian led her outside to the expansive grounds of Wayne Manor. The morning sun cast a golden glow over the manicured gardens and rolling hills, the air crisp and fresh.

“This place is beautiful,” Y/N said, her gaze sweeping over the landscape.

“It’s peaceful,” Damian said, his voice quieter now. “I come out here when I need to think.”

They walked side by side along a gravel path, the silence between them comfortable. Damian’s hand brushed against hers as they walked, and after a moment of hesitation, he laced his fingers with hers.

Y/N glanced up at him, her cheeks warm. “You’re full of surprises today.”

Damian smirked, his eyes glinting with amusement. “You bring it out of me.”

They reached a small gazebo nestled among the trees, and Damian led her inside. He leaned against one of the wooden pillars, watching as Y/N explored the space.

“This is amazing,” she said, running her fingers along the intricate carvings on the railing.

“It’s one of the few places in the manor that feels… personal,” Damian admitted.

Y/N turned to face him, her expression softening. “Thank you for sharing it with me.”

He shrugged, but there was a hint of color in his cheeks. “I wanted you to see it.”

She stepped closer, her heart pounding as she looked up at him. “Damian… thank you. For everything.”

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You don’t have to thank me.”

Y/N smiled, and before she could overthink it, she wrapped her arms around him in a hug. Damian stiffened for a moment, clearly caught off guard, but then his arms came around her, holding her close.

The warmth of his embrace was steadying, and Y/N felt herself relax against him. “You’re not as scary as you pretend to be,” she teased, her voice muffled against his chest.

“And you’re braver than you let on,” he replied, his voice soft.

They stayed like that for a while, neither of them wanting to pull away. When they finally did, Damian’s cheeks were faintly pink, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

“What?” he asked, his tone defensive.

“Nothing,” she said, biting back a laugh. “You’re just cute when you’re flustered.”

Damian rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward. “You’re impossible.”

Back Inside the Manor

Later that day, the two of them found themselves in the manor’s massive library. Y/N was browsing the shelves, marveling at the sheer number of books, while Damian sat in one of the armchairs, watching her with an amused expression.

“You’re staring,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at him.

“Am I not allowed to admire my girlfriend?” he replied, a smirk tugging at his lips.

The word made Y/N pause, her cheeks warming. She turned to face him, clutching the book in her hands. “Girlfriend, huh?”

Damian arched an eyebrow. “Am I wrong?”

“No,” she said quickly, her heart racing. “I just… wasn’t expecting you to say it.”

He stood, walking over to her with an easy confidence that made her stomach flip. “I don’t say things I don’t mean,” he said, his voice low.

Y/N swallowed hard, her gaze flicking to his lips. “Damian…”

Before she could finish, he leaned down and kissed her, his hands resting gently on her waist. It was a soft, lingering kiss, and when he pulled back, Y/N felt like the ground had shifted beneath her.

“You’re full of surprises today,” she whispered, her voice shaky.

“Get used to it,” he replied, smirking.

Evening Teasing

As the day wound down, Y/N and Damian found themselves back in the dining room for dinner. The rest of the Bat-family joined them, and the teasing picked up right where it had left off that morning.

“So,” Jason said, leaning back in his chair. “How was your little tour of the grounds, Y/N?”

“Beautiful,” Y/N said, smiling despite the heat rising in her cheeks.

“I bet,” Dick said, winking at Damian. “Did you show her the gazebo?”

Damian shot him a glare. “Stay out of it, Grayson.”

“Oh, come on,” Dick said, laughing. “It’s cute!”

Bruce cleared his throat, glancing at Damian. “As long as you’re being respectful—”

“Of course I am,” Damian said quickly, his ears turning red.

“Relax, kid,” Jason said, smirking. “We’re just messing with you.”

“Speak for yourself,” Dick said. “I’m genuinely interested in the romance blossoming before our very eyes.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, despite her embarrassment. She glanced at Damian, who looked like he was about to throttle both of his brothers.

“Don’t worry,” she said, placing a hand on his arm.

A Sparring Session in the Training Room

After dinner, Damian suggested they head to the training room—a vast space equipped with every piece of workout and combat gear imaginable.

Y/N followed him, her curiosity piqued. “Do you really train here every day?”

“Most days,” Damian said, holding the door open for her. “If you’re going to be around the Wayne family, you should probably know how to throw a punch.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You do remember I punched out that girl on my first day at Gotham Academy, right?”

He smirked. “True. But I doubt she knew how to counter it. I won’t go easy on you.”

“Oh, is that a challenge?” she teased, stepping into the room.

Damian’s eyes gleamed. “Absolutely.”

Y/N glanced around, taking in the padded mats, punching bags, and an assortment of weapons lining the walls. She stretched her arms and adjusted her stance. “All right, Wayne. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Damian pulled off his hoodie, revealing his toned arms and the black training gear underneath. Y/N’s cheeks warmed, but she quickly shook it off, focusing on the task at hand.

He stepped onto the mat, motioning for her to join him. “We’ll start with basic strikes. Come at me.”

Y/N squared her shoulders, throwing a quick jab toward his midsection. Damian dodged easily, his movements fluid and precise.

“Too slow,” he said, smirking.

She huffed, trying again. This time, she added a feint before aiming for his shoulder, but Damian blocked her effortlessly.

“Better,” he admitted, his tone begrudging.

Y/N grinned, a spark of determination lighting in her eyes. “You’re not as untouchable as you think.”

They continued sparring, the room filling with the sound of their movements and the occasional sharp exhale. Y/N managed to land a few hits, but Damian was clearly holding back, his grin growing wider every time he countered one of her moves.

Finally, she saw her opening. Damian shifted his weight slightly to the left, leaving his side exposed. Y/N lunged forward, catching him off guard as she grabbed his wrist and twisted it behind his back.

“Got you!” she exclaimed triumphantly, her face inches from his.

Damian’s eyes widened, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “Not bad,” he said, his voice quieter now.

Y/N suddenly realized how close they were, her breath hitching as their eyes met. The tension between them crackled like static electricity, and for a moment, neither of them moved.

But then Damian smirked, his confidence returning. “You let your guard down.”

Before Y/N could react, Damian shifted his weight, trying to reverse their positions. However, his foot slipped on the mat, and they both went tumbling to the ground.

Y/N landed flat on her back, and Damian fell on top of her, his hands braced on either side of her head. Her glasses flew off, sliding across the mat.

“Ow,” she muttered, her cheeks flaming as she realized the position they were in.

Damian’s face was just inches from hers, his green eyes wide and his breath warm against her skin. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice unusually soft.

“I’m fine,” she whispered, her heart pounding.

Neither of them moved. The world seemed to shrink until it was just the two of them, their faces so close that Y/N could count the faint freckles dusting Damian’s cheeks.

“Damian,” she said, her voice trembling slightly.

“Yeah?” he replied, his gaze flicking to her lips.

“I think you’re blushing.”

He let out a quiet laugh, his own cheeks tinged pink. “So are you.”

Y/N bit her lip, her eyes searching his. “Are you going to kiss me or just keep staring?”

Damian’s breath caught, but then he leaned down, capturing her lips in a soft, lingering kiss. It was tentative at first, but as Y/N’s hands slid up to his shoulders, it deepened.

The kiss was warm and electrifying, sending shivers down Y/N’s spine. She could feel Damian’s heart racing in sync with her own as they lost themselves in the moment.

Finally, they pulled apart, both of them breathless and blushing furiously.

“Well,” Damian said, his voice slightly hoarse. “That wasn’t part of the training session.”

Y/N laughed, her cheeks still warm. “I think I preferred it to getting thrown on the mat.”

He smirked, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You’re not bad, though. For a rookie.”

“Rookie?” she exclaimed, swatting his arm playfully. “I had you pinned!”

“Briefly,” he countered, his tone teasing.

Y/N rolled her eyes, sitting up and looking around. “Great. Now I can’t see anything.”

Damian followed her gaze, spotting her glasses on the other side of the mat. He retrieved them and handed them back to her, his expression soft.

“Thanks,” she said, sliding them on.

He nodded, his fingers brushing hers as he let go. “Anytime.”

Cooling Down

After the sparring session, the two of them sat on the edge of the mat, sipping water and catching their breath.

“So,” Y/N said, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. “Was that kiss… a one-time thing, or…?”

Damian looked at her, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then he smirked. “Do you want it to be?”

Her cheeks turned red. “No. I mean, if you don’t—”

“I don’t,” he said quickly, his voice firm.

Y/N smiled, a warm feeling blooming in her chest. “Good.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the tension between them replaced by a quiet sense of understanding.

“You know,” Damian said, breaking the silence. “You’re the first person who’s ever managed to pin me.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he said, his tone serious. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

She laughed, leaning her shoulder against his. “Too late.”

The Next Morning

The following morning, Y/N woke up feeling sore but happy. She replayed the events of the previous night in her mind, a smile tugging at her lips as she remembered the kiss.

After getting dressed, she made her way down to the dining room, where the rest of the family was already gathered.

“Morning, Y/N!” Dick called, grinning at her as she entered. “Sleep well?”

“Yeah,” she said, glancing at Damian, who was already seated.

Jason smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Did you and Damian have another training session last night?”

Y/N’s cheeks turned red as she quickly took a seat. “Maybe.”

Dick’s grin widened. “You know, you’ve been spending a lot of time together lately. Should we be worried?”

“Worried about what?” Damian asked, his tone clipped.

“Worried that you’re finally going soft,” Jason teased.

Damian glared at him. “I’ll show you soft, Todd.”

“Relax, Damian,” Y/N said, placing a hand on his arm. “They’re just teasing.”

Bruce cleared his throat, glancing between his sons. “As long as you’re both focused on your responsibilities, I don’t see an issue.”

“Thanks, Bruce,” Y/N said, smiling.

Dick leaned closer, his grin mischievous. “So, Y/N, how was the gazebo?”

Y/N choked on her coffee, while Damian shot him a murderous glare.

Jason laughed, slapping the table. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

Despite the teasing, Y/N felt a warmth in her chest as she glanced at Damian. He met her gaze, his expression softening.

For the first time in a long time, she felt like she belonged.

[blood-smiles]

@missjenniferhardy hey there!! Sorry I couldn’t get back to you asap, my brain thought up something, I’m sorry if it seems messy but I wrote this while I was woozy 😵‍💫

🌶️ UNDER THE CUT!!

Alejandro had long discarded his wife, he wished he could say that he had gotten rid of her completely but still he would find small cameras around his home, hidden in places no one would even think to check,

It seemed like not even a divorce could send Ume away, maybe the next step was to take matters into his own hands and execute some more.. Extreme procedures.

On the bright side of things he had finally started a relationship with his darling! He had longed for domesticity with you for so long.. He decided to take a leave from the office and stay home to make sure everything was to perfection!

..Today you had work, he begged and pleaded for you to stay home with him and that he would pay for all you needed and wanted, but when he said that you just gave him the sweetest puppy eyes—

And so he relented to your request, leaving him home alone for a few hours, he found solace in doing acts of service for you,

He knew that you enjoyed finding water by your bed, he knew exactly how much spice or salt you enjoyed in your food, what exact temperature you bathed in and actually enjoyed, he knew how and which way you liked your clothes ironed— He was a natural at this house husband thing, a bonus was that he enjoyed it!

But he was awfully missing you.. He looked out the window, bouncing his leg anxiously, waiting. Yearning for you to come home.

He waited a while, but after seeing that you weren’t coming home just yet he decided to occupy himself with something else! 

Like cleaning!

He cleared everything off the dining hall table, bending over the long furniture to dust everything off,

He stopped for a moment, a dirty thought snaking into his brain as he bent over the table.. What if you were here? Would you hit from behind..?

He didn’t want to force you into anything like Ume, he was going to initiate intimacy with you only if you approved of it and actually wanted it, he loved you too much, he would never forgive a single soul if he let anyone (including himself) take advantage of your kind heart.

He rested his hands on the smooth wooden banquet table, your hands have touched this table.. You had blessed it with your touch..

He couldn’t help but sit in top of the refectory furniture, leaning his face to rest on the cool surface of the table, his back arched and ass in the air,

He panted as his hands slowly rubbed down his body, gripping his chest and sliding down to his waist,

He didn’t know when it happened but his clothes had been discarded and gathered on the clean carpet,

His nude body exposed to the biting cold air in the room, his hips gently bucked against the table, smearing clear slime on the once pristine table,

He shuddered at the contrasting cold against his burning hot erection, his hands groped his own chest, fingers squeezing his sensitive nipples,

Tears gathered in his eyes from the mix of searing pain and overbearing pleasure, he had a few clothespins earlier.. Maybe those could make do for some clamps,

His manor was far off, acres away from other mansions, so he could let the windows uncovered and no one would see him,

Unfiltered sun rays bled into the dining hall, covering Alejandro in a golden lighting, his soft skin sheening with sweat,

His legs spread as his slim fingers entered his eager hole, finger pads prodded inside his gummy walls, lewd squelching sounds loud and clear,

He moaned loudly, if the house wasn’t vacant and actually had any habitants, he would be sure everyone would hear his sounds,

He imagined that instead of his own fingers they would be yours, kissing his prostate with the tips when you flexed your joints,

“Mmmmghh!” His back arched lifting itself from the cold table,

Not fair, it was not fair, this wasn’t enough, he hated it, why wouldn’t his fingers please him as well as you did? 

He wanted you, he needed you inside him, thrusting into him so hard that his guts would remember the shape of your fingers, so hard that you could re-arrange his insides,

He bit his lips, hard. Small droplets of scarlet dying the inside of his mouth red, the same liquid starting to drip down his chin,

Then he came, unsatisfyingly so, it was the most unpleasant orgasm he has ever experienced, it was always like this when you were away.. Only you were able to trigger pleasure in him,

Warm cum dirtied his lower stomach, he was still twitching and having spasms in his body, his hands shook as he brought his digits into his mouth, his tongue lapping up his own juices greedily,

He missed you, he missed you so so much..

He whined as he cleaned up his mess, getting off the table slowly, his legs still trembling from his recent high,

He slowly dragged himself to the living room, holding onto the walls and door ways,

He took in every single detail of the living room, book cases, small coffee tables, your chair— wait.. Your chair!

He limped towards the stuffed furniture, his erection coming back quickly and painfully, he breathed out small puffs of air,

He stumbled onto his knees, gently gripping the armrest of the small cushions, his nails dug into the soft material as he hoisted himself up,

Sitting on the armrest, the rough texture of the couch like chair being pleasurably painful against the tip of his cock,

He lazily grinder against the cushion, being careful not to hurt himself with the chair’s uncomfortable material,

He would hump your lap like a desperate dog, nothing but praises and thankful mutters being audible, his mind could only come up with images of your face and how your hands would rest on his hips so perfectly, scratching at the protruding bones of his iliac crest,

The intensity of speed drastically increased as he chased his high, his teeth chipping at the scab forming on his lip from earlier,

“Ah!— Ah! Aaa~”

He gasped and whimpered as he came for a second time, this time around being slightly better than the last,

He had scraped the scab off his lip, fresh stream of blood painting his lips a bright rouge, only if you were there you could lick his blood off his lips..

He stared at the floor, it had been a few hours.. four? Maybe five.. He can’t tell, he has no idea how he made it this long without you, well— without you physically, because you were always in his brain, 

It was like you had your own section of brain in his head, always chipping away at his thoughts, not that he cared or was bothered by it.

He didn’t know what else’s to do when you weren’t home, his world revolved around you, he had been wandering around his whole life- Until he found you.

He found his clothes and slowly put them on, maybe making dinner would help him distract himself from the void in his chest,

He finished chopping the vegetables, gently sliding the knife into the knife block again,

He cherishes that specific knife, it was the first thing that made him snap, or like he preferred to call it, a wake up call, it was what helped him realize that Ume would never satisfy him,

He took extra care of that knife.

He walked up the steps of the stair case, his hand smoothing over the wooden railing, he had debated a few times to push Ume over that same railing, he could have said that it was an accident and that she snapped her neck because of the fall,

He chuckled darkly at the image of her neck twisted into an unnatural position, her eyes wide and full of one emotion, betrayal.

He sighed happily at the idea of murdering her, maybe one day, he wouldn’t want you to find out about his homicidal thoughts, you would become scared of him if you were aware of what truly went on inside his head when he wasn’t thinking of you.

You exhaled tiredly, knocking on the large front door a few times, you tapped your shoe against the stone floor as you waited for the door to open and for your lovely boyfriend to greet you,

You waited and waited, soon coming to a realization that no one would come, 

Your heart squeezed in worry and doubt, had something happened and Alejandro was hurt?

You started to panic, shoving your hand into your messenger bag you dug around in the contents, trying to feel for your keys,

You put the key in the lock and twisted it frantically, pushing the door open you walked into the first place you thought he could be in,

The kitchen.

You left your things hung on a hook as you kicked off your shoes and started running towards the kitchen, stopping at the diner table when you saw that it was vacant,

As soon as your hand landed on the wood you touched something wet, you flinched at the strange sensation and instinctively stuck your hand to your side,

You pressed your fingers together then proceeded to separate them, what seemed to be clear slime lathered the tips of your fingers, a thin string connecting the viscous substance,

You raised a brow at it and cleaned it up with a napkin, throwing it away before starting to venture throughout the manor,

You ran through the house, seeing that Alejandro wasn’t in any of the rooms on the first floor, you had begun to worry, had he gone out and didn’t tell you?

You rushed up the stairs, missing a step and almost bashing your head into the wood, you got up from your knees and made your way up the stairs,

You reached the top of the stair case, holding the railing you couldn’t help but look down, your stomach doing a barrel roll inside your body,

You blinked a few times, trying to focus yourself on your actual goal, finding where Alejandro was.

You walked into the first room you saw, being your shared bedroom, your hand rested on the door knob,

Just as you were about to twist the metal you could hear muffled buzzing from the inside of the room, the bed creaking inside the room.

What the hell is going on? 

You opened the door expecting the worst, your eyes widened as you finally found your boyfriend, a flush spreading across your face, heat burning up your cheeks and ears,

Alejandro sat on the bed, sprawled prettily over the messy sheets, a wet spot forming under him, you could see the slick that clung onto his thighs, his cheeks heated, rivaling the reddest of roses,

His sharp eyes looked crazed, gazing lovingly at you from under his long eyelashes, he looked so perfect, even while being disheveled and sweaty he still looked unreal, his long dark lavender hair shining under the setting sun,

Your eyes just had to wander down further, your eyes widened further at what he was wearing, red lingerie—Female lingerie,

the lace barely covered anything up, leaving most of his body to little to no imagination, Alejandro was slim and tall, yet he looked so good.. Your mouth hung ajar as you stared at him, your suit case thumped against the ground as your fingers unfurled from the handle,

The bralette highlighted the slight curve of his chest perfectly, the metal armature wires helping his tits seem rounder and fuller,

Your mouth watered at the thought of fondling and sucking on them, you pulled at your collar shyly when he noticed your gaze, his hand slowly pulled the bralette down, giving you a full view of his chest, his nipples were perky and swollen, you could tell he was touching himself.

You had come to see that red really was his color.

The buzzing had been blocked out completely by how distracted you had been, you kept looking farther down.. Are those red lace Panties? Where did he get that?

the buzzing was coming from a vibrator pressed against his crotch, again, where did he get that?

“Love.. Join me-Hngh! Wi-Will you?~” he opened his legs for you, welcoming you into the bed and into his legs,

He took off the red undergarments painfully slow, teasing you so cruelly,

you didn’t know when, but your body acted in its own, and you found yourself eating him out like he was your last meal.

It seems that the lingerie Ume left behind suites him better than it ever suited her,

Alejandro couldn’t even think, his brain was overloaded with you, he couldn’t think anything else more but that he loved you, he wanted to be consumed by you,

The next morning his voice was hoarse and strained, he didn’t know that making llover with you would feel so good.

He gently put a cover over your form, his eyes soft and caring, he kissed your lips gently, swiping his tongue over your lips, he laughed softly, not even bothering to cover the maniac undertones to his laughter,

Everything is perfect, he loves you and you love him, he may love you too much to be normal, but he never felt love until you arrived,

And no one would take you away from him now.♡

[southern-gothic-comic]

Page 82

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(Author's Notes)

Panel 1: A long time ago, Laudna is fixing up a different house. She has built a dollhouse out of a fruit crate and is filling it with furniture made of odds and ends and dolls made of clothespins. Laudna looks the same age as ever but her mien is particularly childlike, suggesting she hasn't been dead for very long. It’s spring, and she's wearing a pinafore dress. Her (alive) pet rat is watching the proceedings curiously from the roof of the dollhouse.

Panel 2: Looking closer, we can see that it's an approximation of a white manor house or castle. A doll wearing the same attire that we saw on Laudna when she was killed and reborn is being approached by a doll dressed as a noblewoman.

Laudna: There you are, D. Home sweet home.

Panel 3: In the dining room, the dolls as well as a bear made out of a spool are arranged around a dinner table.

Laudna: Delilah?

Delilah: Yes, poppet?

Laudna: Why did you invite me to that party? I mean . . . why me, specially?

Panel 4: Laudna's shoulders droop as Delilah laughs. She holds the dolls protectively to herself.

Delilah: {hahaha} Oh, darling girl. It was never about you at all. You were only ever a means to an end.

Panel 5: She lies down on the floor, limp with disappointment.

Delilah: There there, don’t sulk so. We must make the best of our situation. This isn’t exactly what I had planned, either.

Laudna: Go away. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.

Delilah: You don’t really mean that. If I go, there’ll be no one to talk to you at all. Your twitchy-whiskered friend certainly can’t hold a conversation.

Laudna: I don’t care. I hate you.

Delilah: Suit yourself, then.

Panel 6: She raises her tearstained face in surprise to find herself, apparently, alone.

[aceyalonso]

ii - i missed you, italy

chapter summary : the long-awaited summer vacation in Italy is finally here. you and oscar finally start talking to each other but it's a little too awkward for you to keep the conversation going.

alternative summary : preparations for the piastri family's arrival and y/n somehow manages to fall asleep on oscar's shoulder

warnings : awkward tension, oscar is a bit rude in this

word count : 2.5k

a/n : there's more oscar in this I swear (song is just for the vibes again)

song : sarà perché ti amo - ricchi e poveri

Y/n's family had arrived at their beautiful seaside manor in Italy, the air filled with a mixture of excitement, anticipation, and jetlag; especially from Gabriel who complained that 7 am was way too early of a time to wake up. The house was nestled in a peaceful, secluded area surrounded by vibrant greenery and scenic views. The family had arrived 4 days before Nicole's family to prepare their summer house for their guests.

As Y/n's family stepped into their summer house, they were immediately greeted by the few maids who had been taking care of the property in their absence. The maids warmly smiled and bowed, welcoming them back to their home in Italy. They helped carry the luggage and inquired if the family needed any assistance during their stay.

I approached my mother who was already busy organizing some belongings in the living room.

"Mom," I say. "I'm going to head upstairs and unpack in my room."

She looks up and smiles at me. "Alright, dear. Let me or the help know if you any help okay?"

I start to make my way up the stairs but stop for a moment, seeing Gabriel asleep on the couch. A smile tugs at my lips, observing my 5-year-old brother sleeping with a dinosaur plushie in hand. I quietly approach him and place a gentle kiss on his forehead before moving on upstairs.

I enter my room, taking in the quaint charm of the space. I began to unload my suitcase, placing my clothes neatly in the closet, and my makeup and skincare on the dresser. As I continue to unpack, I can't help but glance outside the window, taking in the breathtaking views of the Italian seaside surrounding the property.

Y/n finishes unpacking and takes out her phone, walking over to the window and taking a few pictures of the stunning view outside, the rolling hills, the quaint villages, and the bright blue sea water dotting the landscape creating a picturesque view.

yn.jpg | 📍Italy

liked by sienna_cresenzo, mari.crsnzo, may.piastri and 1,709 others yn.jpg i missed you, italy.

sienna_cresenzo SINCE WHEN DID YOU ARRIVE AND WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?? ↳ yn.jpg we arrived 2 hours ago HAHAHA

may.piastri see you soon y/n!! liked by yn.jpg

mari.crsnzo welcome back y/n :) liked by yn.jpg

Y/n was in her room, putting the finishing touches on her outfit when she heard her mother's voice calling from downstairs. "Y/n! Lunch is ready! And we have guests, come say hi!"

"Coming, mama!" Y/n calls out in response, quickly glancing in the mirror to make sure her pair is in place "Just give me a sec!" She swiftly smoothed out her outfit and gave herself one last look before making her way downstairs to join her family and the guests.

I entered the dining room, pausing when I saw Sienna and Marietta sitting at the table. I squeal, unable to contain my excitement. With a wide grin on Sienna's face, she stands up from the chair, running over to hug me with Marietta following calmy behind her.

"Oh my god, I can't believe you guys are here!" I yell, my voice laced with joy.

Marietta responds to my reaction with a small, awkward side hug in return. Her expression was somewhat reserved, and there was a hint of discomfort on her face, but whatever.

Y/n and her family, along with their guests settled around an elegant dining table. The lunch was a simple yet tasty Italian affair, with freshly baked bread, assorted meats, and a variety of local vegetables.

The group bowed their heads as Y/n's mother led grace, giving thanks for the food and their summer gathering. After everyone had thanked for the blessing, Y/n's mother looked up, a warm smile painting her face.

"How are your parents doing?" she asks Sienna and Marietta, her eyes flickering between the two young ladies. "Are they enjoying their summer?"

Sienna and Marietta exchanged glances before Sienna responded. "Our parents are doing well, Zia (aunt)" she replies, her voice soft. "They're kind of busy with l'azienda (the company) but I think they're enjoying their summer so far."

Y/n's mother nodded, a look of understanding on her face.

"That's wonderful to hear," she said. "Work can be hectic, but it's important to find some time to relax and enjoy the summer."

Sienna chimed in, a hint of playful sarcasm in her voice. "And of course, they're leaving us behind to fend for ourselves for a bit" she added, rolling her eyes playfully.

For the next 4 days, Y/n and her family spent all of their time setting up the house for guests. They put away their belongings, rearranged some of the furniture, and made sure everything was neat and organized.

As the sun began to dip towards the horizon, Y/n's family gathered in the van, getting ready to go pick up Nicole and her family from the airport.

Y/n and her family arrived at the airport and parked their car in the designated area. They made their way through the airport, following the signs to the arrival terminal.

Y/n's eyes darted around, eagerly searching amongst the crowd of people for signs of May or Nicole.

As Y/n's family scans the never-ending stream of people, she suddenly spots a familiar face not too far away. It was Oscar, standing beside his family.

She tapped on her mother's shoulder and whispered, "Mom, I think they're over there. I'm not sure if that's Oscar but it looks like him."

Y/n's mom squinted her eyes, scanning the crowd for Oscar. After a moment, she shook her head, not seeing him right away.

"Which one is he?" she asked, her gaze still searching.

Y/n pointed discreetly towards Oscar. "he's the one in the black shirt, standing by the charging port over there," Y/n said.

As her mom finally spotted Oscar and his family, she walked ahead, leading the way as her husband placed a gentle hand on Y/n's shoulder. The younger brother clung to Y/n's arm, looking around curiously.

The three of them approached Oscar and his family, Y/n's heart fluttering slightly as they got closer. She could make out their faces more clearly now.

As Y/n hugged May, her gaze wandered to Oscar, taking in his appearance. He looked good in the black shirt, the color complementing his features. Y/n felt that similar flutter of her chest again but quickly pushed down her thoughts, not allowing herself to accept or acknowledge them.

As the two families walked back to the parking lot, the dads and Oscar took charge of loading the suitcases into the back of the van. They piled them neatly, ensuring everything fit snugly and securely.

While the men were engaged in their task, Y/n found herself standing next to Oscar, feeling a bit awkward. She tried not to make it obvious that she was stealing glances at him as they waited.

Y/n glanced around, noticing that there seemed to be little space left in the trunk. She looked at the carry-on bag that she and May were holding onto. She cleared her throat and addressed Oscar somewhat awkwardly.

"Uh, is there still room for a carry-on in there?" she asked.

Oscar's dad, overhearing the question, replied, cutting off Oscar. "Sorry, but there isn't any room left back here. Don't worry, Edie and Hattie can place them in their row later."

She nods, whispering. "Oh, okay. Thank you"

As they all climbed into the van, the seating arrangement was determined. Y/n's dad took the driver's seat, while Oscar's dad sat in the front passenger seat (due to Y/m/n's insistence). Nicole, Y/n's mom, and Gabriel settled in the front row, while Edie and Hattie occupied the second row with a few carry-on bags. Leaving Y/n Oscar and May to sit together in the last row.

As May decided she wanted to take pictures from the window side, she asked Y/n if they could switch places. Y/n agreed, and soon enough, she found herself sitting next to Oscar.

As they sat side by side, the awkward silence between them was palpable. Y/n desperately tried to make small talk, breaking the uncomfortable silence between her and Oscar. However, her attempts seemed to fall flat and their conversation remained stiff and unnatural.

As me and Oscar sit beside each other, I felt the urge to break the awkward silence.

"Soo.. uh, are you excited to spend summer here?" I ask, my voice sounding a bit forced and uncomfortable.

Oscar only nodded, his gaze still fixed out the window. "Yeah, sure. It'll be nice to relax somewhere new I guess," he replied, his response sounding somewhat indifferent.

As I try to continue our stilted conversation, May suddenly taps my arm.

"Hey, Y/n, which one looks better?" she asked, holding up her phone with two different photos on the screen.

I lean closer to May, taking a better look at the photos.

"The second one looks better," I say, pointing to the screen. May hums in agreement, mumbling. "Thank you"

May immersed herself in photography again, but the desire to continue the conversation with Oscar lingered in my mind. However, I held back, hesitating to proceed.

My thoughts echoed back and forth in my head, "I know I shouldn't force it. He might not be interested anyway. I don't want to appear pushy anyway"

As the drive progressed, the ongoing traffic added to the time spent in the car, making it a slightly longer journey than expected. Y/n's exhaustion slowly crept up on her, and she found it increasingly difficult to stay awake.

Without realizing it, her head had gradually swayed to the side, coming to rest on Oscar's shoulder as she drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

As Y/n's head rested on his shoulder, Oscar felt a sense of slight shock, not expecting it. Nevertheless, he chose not to disturb the girl. After all, she had done nothing wrong to justify him waking her or reprimanding her.

He was fully aware of her close proximity, her head gently resting on his shoulder. However, he remained still, silently allowing her to sleep.

Edie who was sitting in front of a busy May and a sleeping Hattie, had a clear view of the scene unfolding between her older brother and the girl. She noticed how Y/n's head was resting on Oscar's shoulder, stirring a mix of confusion and surprise within her.

To get May's attention, Edie decided to annoy her, playfully waving her hand in front of her face until May finally looked her way.

Edie then pointed at the scene in the backseat, silently drawing May's attention to the situation between Y/n and Oscar.

May, sitting beside Y/n, was initially confused by the situation unfolding beside her. However, she decided to let it go and not dwell on it. Meanwhile, Edie continued stealing glances at her brother and Y/n.

Oscar, seeming unaware of his sisters' attention, plugged in his earphones, immersing himself in the music, and quietly ignored the outside world.

Oscar, noticing that they were nearing their destination, felt the need to wake Y/n up. However, he approached the task somewhat nonchalantly, his usual indifference surfacing.

He gave her arm a firm nudge, his tone a bit brusque. "Hey, wake up. Your dad said we're almost home," he said, his voice low, lacking any concern or tenderness.

Y/n gradually stirred from her slumber, her mind slowly returning to consciousness. As she felt Oscar's nudge and heard his voice, her eyes fluttered open, and confusion briefly clouded her mind.

Realizing that she had been sleeping on Oscar's shoulder, a feeling of embarrassment flushed her cheeks.

As she sat up straighter, her initial embarrassment was replaced by a slight annoyance. She was in no mood to deal with his attitude, and her mood instantly soured.

She turned her gaze toward Oscar, her voice carrying an undercurrent of frustration. "Thanks. You could've been a little gentler. A more pleasant way of waking someone up, you know."

Her annoyance was evident in her tone, but she tempered it, managing to hold back from sounding overly sassy or rude.

As the families entered the house, Y/n followed suit, lending a hand to Edie and Hattie with their luggage. Despite her lingering annoyance after Oscar's rude awakening, she shoved it aside momentarily and focused on assisting their guests.

Together, Y/n, Edie, and Hattie carefully maneuvered the suitcases toward the living room. The hustle and bustle of unloading and settling in filled the air.

As the initial commotion of entering the house and moving luggage started to subside, Y/m/n spotted an opportunity to gather everyone's attention.

She clapped her hands gently to get the group's focus. "Everyone, can I have your attention, please? I'll explain the room arrangements."

Everyone ceased their conversations and directed their focus towards her. The living room quieted down, and all eyes were on Y/m/n.

"Okay so, Nicole, Tim. You two will stay in the room in front of the one me and Y/d/n are staying in. Gabriel will stay in the room to the right of ours." she explains, her hands waving around. "May, your room will be right in front of Y/n's. Oscar, your room is beside Y/n's room." she continues. "Hattie your room will be beside Oscar's, and Edie yours is in front of Oscar's- Oh, and don't worry, all of your bedrooms have their own bathrooms."

After listening to her mother's instructions, the group exchanged their goodnight. Y/n led Edie and Hattie to their rooms.

"Here we are," Y/n says "If you guys need me or any help, just knock on my door okay? It's the one with my name on it," she begins to ramble nervously.

Edie and Hattie say their thanks and retire into the comfort of having their own rooms.

On her way back to her own room, Y/n bumps into May, who has just finished unpacking a small bag of clothes. Y/n seized the opportunity to ask, "So, how are you finding Italy so far?"

May smiled, tucking a few strands of stray hair behind her ear before replying, "It's pretty nice, the bed seems pretty comfy- but I'm thinking of swapping rooms with Osc. His room seems to have a better view than mine."

Y/n chuckled lightly at May's comment about trading rooms with Oscar. She soon bid May a cheerful goodnight, her laughter still lingering as she twisted the doorknob to her own room.

"Have fun room trading then," she said with a playful tone. "Goodnight, May."

May replied with a lighthearted goodnight.

"Sleep tight," she chimed in, bidding Y/n farewell with a tired smile. "See you in the morning."

After saying their goodnights, Y/n closed her bedroom door behind her. She swiftly changed into a fresh set of pajamas, relishing the comfortable fabric against her skin.

With fatigue setting in once more and the eventful day slowly catching up to her, Y/n wasted no time crawling into bed. She nestled beneath the covers, her body sinking into the softness of the sheets and pillows. Within moments, her eyes grew heavy, and she drifted into a peaceful sleep.

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series masterlist

[eowynstwin]

Blackbird, Fly - Three

Cowboy Gaz x mail order bride—only, not his. After exchanging letters for half a year with ranching man Hans König, you finally travel out west to marry him. - You wonder if this is how lambs feel, when shorn for the first time. - content warning for marital rape after the second break. - ao3

previous

“Come,” says Hans, tugging on your arm, “let’s get you ready for the ceremony.”

Your husband-to-be leads you up the porch steps and into the house, long legs carrying him ahead so fast you must practically jog to keep up with him. You stumble when you enter the house—the interior is fantastically well-appointed, with papered walls and carved wood furniture, framed photos hanging beside paintings, pressed flowers, hunting trophies, rifles and knives and old farm equipment. The floor beneath your feet is polished and smooth, spread over in places with thick, fringed rugs. You don’t see much more of it after your initial impression; Hans pulls you along at a clip.

Even such a brief glimpse, though, proves your long-held assumptions about Hans and his livelihood; his family has done well for itself, over the years. The kitchen, dining room, and sitting room are all separate from each other, and the manor’s first floor alone is larger than the small farmhouse you grew up in. Your family always made an effort to present a comfortable, clean home, but it seems downright drab in memory now in comparison to this.

There’s a bit of a bustle going on as Hans tugs you along—you hear movement in the kitchen, punctuated by the clang of dishes moving to and fro. A rough voice grinds out something short, and a couple of cowboys emerge with covered dishes that they set on the dining table before they return back into the fray. In the sitting room, an older woman with short, sandy brown hair sits at a desk, spectacles perched on the end of her nose. She glances up at you, betrays no interest, and then ignores you.

“You’ll meet everyone at the ceremony,” Hans says. He directs you up the stairs. “Right now you need something nice to wear.”

“O-oh,” you say, lifting the hem of your skirt as you climb the steps. The fabric, purchased at a discount after you’d saved pennies and nickels for months, suddenly feels thin and insubstantial between your fingers.

Hans brings you into the main bedroom, equally well-designed with molded wood paneling and brass lanterns on the walls, where he goes to a chest at the foot of the massive bed four-poster bed. Everything you’ve seen so far in this house is much finer than what even the most well-to-do farmers back home could display; you used to imagine that wealth like this could only be within the reach of select few businessmen on the east coast. You never imagined you’d have the chance to marry into it.

“I think this should suit you,” says Hans, turning to you with a stack of clothing in one hand.

You take it from him when he proffers it—a skirt, blouse, and jacket, you find. The fabric is silky in your hands, glossy and cool to the touch and very fine. You shake out the skirt; yards of bustled fabric tumble open to reveal pleated gathers, elegant bows, and velvet trim. The paired jacket is much the same, with pearl buttons down the front, and the accompanying blouse is a weave of tight, delicate lace.

Your earlier fears are soundly confirmed; you are in no way dressed for a wedding to Hans König. Gaz had only been trying to be kind; being here, now, seeing the kind of splendor Hans lived with every day, no one could make the mistake that you could measure up on your own.

“Thank you, Hans,” you say, face warming with embarrassment.

“Think nothing of it,” says Hans, looking you up and down expectantly. “Go on.”

You blink. “Ex—excuse me?”

Hans raises his brows as if it should be obvious. “Why, let’s see you in it, dear girl.”

You blanch. Surely he isn’t suggesting…“But—well, Hans, we aren’t—we haven’t—”

“My dear, I’ve already promised to marry you. Why would I go to such expense on a wedding merely to fool you into showing me your underthings?”

You drop your gaze to the floor, cheeks burning. “It’s not proper.”

“Bah,” says Hans. He takes the clothes back from you, tosses them onto the bed, and brings his hands to the buttons down your front. “It’s not like I won’t see this again in a few hours.”

You are rooted to the spot. He unbuttons your dress with an alacrity that startles you; in a few short moments, he makes an opening wide enough to slip over your shoulders, and unceremoniously he pushes the collar open and lets the dress drop to the floor.

You blink several times. You wonder if this is how lambs feel, when shorn for the first time; do they feel suddenly like they’ve been skinned? Does the air suddenly feel much closer, more real than it had before? You remember shearing season on a neighbor’s farm, the angular planes of shortened fleece cropped close to twitching flesh. The sheep had looked unfinished after the deed was done—like wooden figurines only partly whittled.

When you look to Hans’ face, you find him gazing at the tight space where your chemise tucks into the line of your corset. Then, as if in a dream, he reaches out with one huge hand and cups the mound of one breast.

The air vacates your lungs. It’s the first time a man has ever touched you this way.

When young ladies of a certain age gather to socialize, matters of discussion inevitably tend toward the prurient. Your peers delighted in sharing the wealth of erotic experience they’d accrued; trysts in larders, late graveyard meetings, dizzying accounts of hands and mouths in places that sent shame pumping hot and curious through your veins. You lived vicariously through their adventures; opportunities for your own, with three older brothers and a protective father, were nonexistent.

The embarrassing fact is that in matters of your marital duties, you received no practical education.

The one time your mother, a modest woman, saw fit to tutor you, she’d taken you out to the small enclosure in which the family goats were kept. The animals were useful for milk and occasionally meat, so there was always a breeding pair at hand. This occasion, they served the additional use of instruction; the male was rutting.

Your mother had made you watch as the billy mounted the nanny, and shoved its little goat prick into her hindquarters. The billy seemed mindless with want, ferocious, gyrating its hips uncomfortably, which the nanny took with what seemed like resigned patience, if it was paying attention at all. Once the billy finished, it dismounted, chewed its cud a little bit, and walked off. The nanny seemed unperturbed, rather detached from the whole thing, and similarly continued with whatever it had been doing before.

“It’s about like that,” said your mother, unable to look you in the eye.

So you have little knowledge of the matter.

And you have no idea what to do now, as your husband-to-be fondles you and stares down at you with what seems like only idle interest. Hans’ thumb brushes over the space where your nipple would be, hot even through layers of cotton and whalebone. The fine hairs on your arms raise, standing straight up.

What are you supposed to do now? Touch him back? Your stomach turns over at the thought. Even if you wanted to, you have no idea how. Hans is touching you so casually, as if you’ve been his wife for years, but you are as poor in wifely instinct as you are in everything else.

“Lovely,” he says, eyes locked on the place where your chest is rapidly rising and falling.

You inhale shakily. This is fine. He wouldn’t do this if it wasn’t—of course it’s all right, you’re to be married within the hour. It’s only your breast, and only his hand, and it’s over your clothes. It’s fine.

“May—” your voice comes out dry. You clear your throat. “May I dress now, Hans?”

He smiles. You note that he has a thin-lipped smile, and his eyes do not crinkle at the corners. “Of course.”

-

When the guests have all arrived, when the world around you is bathed in the orange-gold light of the setting sun, and when the mandolin plays the bridal chorus, you join Hans König under an archway of lupine and Indian paintbrush. Evening gives way to night as the last day of your old life comes to a close, ending as you say the words that until now you’ve only whispered in the night at your bedside.

For better—for worse—as long as you both shall live. Over and over again, until your tongue recognized the shape of them like the Lord’s Prayer. As if practicing them enough would speed the hour to you all the sooner in which their vow became real.

Hans kisses you for the second time, and then together, arm in arm, you turn to face the congregation’s applause.

Stars begin peeking white faces through the dimming sky as the band strikes up a tune, and as the reception commences, you must shake hands with the whole county. The priest John MacTavish insists upon introducing himself first—a younger man, with vivid blue eyes and an unusual haircut, gives his congratulations in a husky Scottish brogue entirely inappropriate for a man of the cloth. He’s followed by the sheriff, Simon Riley, who practically chases him off—another tall man, near to your husband’s height, and twice as broad. Curiously, he wears a bandanna across the lower half of his face. His greeting to you is gruff, short—polite in a way that seems unnatural for him.

Next is a slightly older woman, splendidly dressed in lace-trimmed taffeta. She comes over to kiss your cheeks in the French style. Hans ducks his head as she smiles at you; you can’t help but feel similar trepidation. She is terribly striking, with delicate creases on either side of her mouth and a mysterious twinkle in her eye.

“The hotel in town is my establishment,” she tells you. “The bath house, as well.”

“Oh,” you say, “how lovely.”

Her smile quirks at the corners; she looks at Hans, then back to you, and softly chucks your chin. “You’re a pretty thing, aren’t you, darling?”

“Yes, Madame, thank you,” your husband says quickly as your face sets to blazing. “I believe others would like to speak to us, as well, if you don’t mind.”

She gives you another enigmatic smile, tightens the light chiffon wrap around her shoulders, and leaves you to the banker and his wife, who both eagerly step up to talk your ear off.

Farmers, other ranchers, ramblers and gamblers and trappers; it seems everyone in the state has come to pay you their respects, and they all want to meet you at the exact same time. The rough voice you heard in the kitchen manifests itself in the form of a burly man with mutton chops, who introduces himself as John Price the saloon owner. A young woman with an unsmiling face named Ms. Boucher tells you your first purchase at her dry goods store will be discounted by five percent, as a welcome gift from her to you. She punctuates the statement with a narrow-eyed look at your husband, but you have no time to wonder at it before the next guests capture your attention.

A whole line of Hans’ cowboys, headed by the woman you saw working at the writing desk when you arrived, form up to tell you their names and pledge you their loyalty, still dressed in their wrangling leathers but bathed and combed and polished for the occasion nonetheless. The woman introduces herself as Kate Laswell, the foreman.

“I took care of the accounting after Anna passed,” Laswell says to you. “Tomorrow I’ll go through the books with you. It’ll be your job from now on.”

“Now, Kate, you shouldn’t discuss business at my wedding,” says Hans, politely, but somewhat terse. “And besides, that would be far too much for my new bride.”

“Hans, I told you,” you say earnestly, referencing a summer letter, “I want to be a part of things.”

He smiles genially at you—but the expression seems tight. “Of course, dear.”

“Tomorrow,” Kate says to you. Curiously, she looks you up and down. Then, “You’ll need to see the tailor, as well, I think.”

Her words are not said unkindly, but they shame you anyway, reminding you just how poorly matched as yet you are to this life. When you’d put the dress on earlier, it had been immediately clear to you that it was not made to your measurements, but you hadn’t thought it would be so obvious to anyone else. Only Hans’ cowboys proceeding to introduce themselves saves you from having to respond.

One is conspicuously absent.

Unexpectedly, it hurts. Even though it shouldn’t. Gaz had only driven you here, after all. You’ve known him less than a day. It shouldn’t disappoint you, as you keep your eyes on the moving line, that he does not come forward, but it does.

In between meeting the county folk, you manage to get a few bites of the wedding feast—prime rib, lamb chowder, baked fish, seasoned potatoes, collard greens, fried tomatoes, sourdough biscuits, and three different fruit cobblers still somehow steaming from the oven. You and Hans cut the bride’s cake, an impressive sheet of angel food and ivory buttercream that he must have procured at outrageous cost; you are not embarrassed to wolf it down in front of Hans’ guests. It’s the sweetest, softest thing you’ve ever eaten, more delicate than you ever could have imagined any food could be.

As the sky darkens overhead, the faint cloud of the milky way coalesces in the light of the waxing moon, and the band takes up a lively jig as the wedding party sallies forth to the clearing to dance arm in arm. Your husband whirls you along with them, arm around your waist, and then you’re dancing, too, and the familiar two-step lifts your flagging spirits as the cool night air runs quick, soft fingers across your burning cheeks.

So what if some cowboy hadn’t made it to your wedding? You’re dancing with your husband, after months of longing for him; everything and everyone else is inconsequential laid up against this triumph.

Faces blur in the lamplight the night falls indigo around you, and as the music changes Hans twirls you into a new set of arms in a jaunt that has everyone exchanging partners. They hold you only briefly before the music changes again, and off you bounce to another, the world spinning around you faster and faster, jubilant and surreal, and then another—

Suddenly you are in Kyle Garrick’s arms.

He catches you like lassoing a runaway horse, taking your momentum into the pillar of his body as he winds you in close. One of his hands spreads warm across your back, fingers spanning what feels like the entire breadth of your waist. His other cradles your own in his palm, long fingers folded around it like an envelope. You fit against him easily, perfectly, like a couple illustrated in a storybook.

“Mr. Garrick,” you gasp.

“Mrs. König,” he says.

Suddenly you realize you’re out of breath. You take deep gulps of air, and Gaz’s scent permeates your lungs. Lavender soap and bay rum, polished leather, sweet hay. The soft, dense curls of his hair are combed and parted a little, and the short stubble he’d greeted you with on the train platform is tonsured down flush to his jaw.

He leans in closer to you, hovers his lips near to one ear. “You changed your dress.”

He doesn’t keep pace with the other dancers, or swing you around in time with the music; he lets the world slow around you both, the music falling away as he brings the pace of your heart down with soft line of his mouth and the steady, still look in his dark eyes. His hand on your back radiates so much warmth that it cuts through the evening chill just beginning to set in, as if his palm is directly against your naked skin.

You smile meekly. “It wasn’t appropriate for a wedding.”

His dark brows pull together; his hands tighten their purchase on you. You watch him avert his eyes from you, take a great breath in through flared nostrils.

“Mr. Garrick,” you say, feeling too honest, “do you disapprove of me?”

He snaps his gaze back to you. “Why would you think that?”

You swallow. “You don’t seem very pleased, whenever we talk, is all.”

Suddenly Gaz smiles—lets out a short, sharp laugh that bares his even teeth, shows the points of his canines. “That’s not your fault. I promise you.”

“Then what is it?”

He gazes at you. Lamplight casts the angles of his face in shadow, deepens the darkness of his eyes. His shoulder is solid beneath where your hand rests, shaped hard by a life on the range; you could lay the entirety of your weight against him, you think, and he wouldn’t even sway with holding you up. There’s something very present about Kyle Garrick. Something real. It draws you in like the earth draws the moon into its orbit.

“Do you really want this?” he asks you.

You blink. “Of course I do.”

“You hardly know him.”

“I’ve known him for half a year, Mr. Garrick,” you say, somewhat unsure how much explanation you owe this cowboy. After all, you’d vowed to earn his trust, as his employer’s new wife. “I know you might have some reservations about me. I understand, really.”

“No,” says Gaz immediately, dark brows low and serious over his eyes. “Not about you.”

“Mrs. König!” an accented voice calls.

Immediately the world speeds up around you again, music crashing back into your ears, wedding guests spinning and leaping around you, and you turn to see your husband standing at the edge of the clearing.

The dancing comes to a halt at the sound of his voice; Hans outstretches one hand toward you.

“I believe it is time for us to retire,” he says.

Gaz’s hands tighten on you again. You feel the eyes of the other dancers on the two of you, tight lines of attention between you and them.

You have felt it all evening, really—the undercurrent lining every conversation, the askance looks tossed at you and your husband when no one thought you’d notice. The pervading sense of some drama playing out just outside of your comprehension.

You turn to look back at Gaz. His mouth is pressed into a hard line. The wells of his eyes are ink-dark, opaque, eclipsed by something of a shape beyond your knowing. He says nothing as he holds your gaze, only watches you with an expectation so stoic, so resigned, that you feel almost guilty for releasing him.

He lets you go as if his grasp wasn’t even tight in the first place. You turn away from him, from the stone-hard expression on his face, and go to slide your fingers into your husband’s waiting hand.

Wolf-whistles populate the night air as he smiles approvingly, nods, and leads you away. Short bursts of knowing applause behind you draw your shoulders tight together.

“Ignore them,” says Hans, tucking your hand into the crook of his arm. “They’re just fools.”

You look back over your shoulder. Gaz still stands amid the dancers, a wide berth around him. His eyes have not left you; they pierce you in the night, sharp even as the distance between you grows.

You have only one other point of reference, aside from your mother’s tutelage, for how the end of this evening might go. A topaz glimmering in the folds of your memory.

Years ago, before the shine had worn off as it usually does with older siblings, you’d worshiped your oldest brother like he was Jesus Christ returned. You’d trailed after him like a newborn pup, dogging his every step, hoping your devotion would earn you even the smallest scraps of his affection. You’d watched his comings and goings like you could divine the mysteries of God from the merest angle of his movements.

One night, far past the time when everyone should be asleep, he’d slipped out of the small three-room house your family shared. You knew, because you slept closest to the door, and by then could recognize him by the rhythm of his footsteps. Like any nosy little sibling, you’d followed him out once you were sure he couldn’t hear you behind him.

He’d made his creeping way toward the barn, his path and yours lit only by a waxing moon. You remember, sneaking along after him, noticing a dim glow emanating from the cracks in the hayloft door, and guessed that your brother had realized he’d forgotten to snuff a lantern before going to bed—and now he was going to put it out, rather than leave a hay fire to chance.

He went inside. You were about to follow (no sibling, however divine, was exempt from a good ribbing, and nearly burning down the barn was excellent blackmail fodder)—when you heard another voice.

A female voice. Soft, and sweet, and welcoming.

Very little preamble separated that revelation from the next, and what you heard in the following moments rooted you there in place; movement. Rustling. For the span of a few heartbeats, nothing except for the crickets in the fields—and then, like the moon rising on a cloudless night—a growing chorus, voices high and low, moaning together in staccato.

You’d stood there, frozen absolutely solid, as it went on. The high voice lifted higher, and higher, carried on frantic, rapid breaths, until it cut off with a shriek that muffled so fast you knew your brother had covered the girl’s mouth.

Then—quiet, shared laughter.

So you know a little more than what the goats taught you.

Hans leads you back inside the house, where the lanterns have been turned to low, orange specks of light. You fix your eyes on the nape of his neck ahead of you as the two of you climb the stairs, making your way back to the master bedroom. The cacophony of the wedding celebration is far away; he opens the door, draws you inside, and shuts it behind him.

You stand in the middle of the room, looking at him. This whole evening has felt like a dream, but as you gaze at your husband, you suddenly feel like you’re waking up. You have not been alone with Hans since you met him, not really, and you realize he hasn’t felt quite real to you because of it. You almost feel as if you can see him, for the first time, see the words that have made him up in your memory coalesce into the flesh-and-blood man standing before you.

This is him. This is Hans. This is the man you love.

Softly, you approach him. Reach up with two hands to take his face in them; press your lips, shyly, unpracticed, to his.

“Hans,” you say, more softly than you have ever said anyone’s name in your life, looking into the pale blue of his eyes.

He gazes down at you. “Let’s get undressed,” he says.

It’s the moment you expected, but it daunts you nonetheless. You nod, step away from your husband, and he sets to the task—he shucks his coat, dropping it on the floor, and unhooks his suspenders. Swiftly you turn away from him when he begins unbuttoning his shirt, face blazing—of course, you’ve seen men undress before, you have three brothers, but this—this—

The reality of what you are about to do douses you all at once, soaking you to the bone. When you bring your hands up to the buttons of your bodice, they are trembling; you can barely get the tiny pearls between your fingers to undo them. You hear more clothes land on the floor behind you as you struggle, and then nothing. Stillness.

His eyes are heavy on your back. He is silent as you finally get the jacket off, and the blouse along with it; he is silent as you push the skirt down over your hips, the garment piling on the floor.

Your whole body is shaking by the time you’re down only to your chemise, shivering like a foal on new legs as you bare your shoulders. You close your eyes. There’s no need to be afraid as you shuffle the garment down your back. It’s only your husband behind you, looking at you as you bare your buttocks, as you step out of the split shorts, as the cool night air caresses your naked belly.

“That’s enough,” Hans says behind you when your hands go to the ties on your stockings.

You go still.

“Get on the bed, now.”

-

You focus on your breathing. Long breaths, in and out, as you crawl belly-first onto the mattress, which sinks luxuriously under your weight, softer than any bed you’ve lain on in your life. Suddenly, before you have time to adjust, the mattress sinks even more under you, and an envelope of heat and weight looms over you, pressing hard onto you, bare skin and the smell of sweat and the sound of another person’s breathing over you invading your senses.

Then there’s something blunt nudging at the entrance of your sex. A hand on your hip, gripping tight. The blunt thing circles briefly, parting your folds, and then is pressing into you. Pressing in somewhere tight, somewhere that doesn’t want to open to let it in. You hold your breath. It presses harder, fighting the resistance, and then finally gets past it, just a half inch or so—and suddenly it hurts.

“Hans,” you whisper.

He hasn’t seem to have heard you. He pushes harder, just a bit further. There’s another wall of resistance, this one needling and far more solid. You gasp sharply at the dryness of it, the way his member seems to want to push your own folds up into you as it tries to get in, shoving, bludgeoning, and then, mercifully, Hans pulls away.

It’s on the tip of your tongue to suggest that maybe the two of you try this later. Clearly there is something about you that’s not ready for it—but then his hand is between your legs, smearing something slippery around, and just briefly he touches something that pulses with interest. You jolt as little sparks of pleasure dance through you but quickly burn out, and then, the blunt head of his cock is back, pushing in, much faster, much smoother, huge and hard—

Suddenly it is sharp inside you, razor sharp, paralyzing. You shriek in pain, tears welling acidic in your eyes, shocked, betrayed, and he keeps coming, an endless length of him forcing inside, making room where there is none, going somewhere it clearly must not belong—and then he groans, loud and guttural, and begins to pull out.

You don’t have enough time to mistake this for the end of it. He pulls out halfway and then rams back in, slamming against your body, punching what must be the very limit of the space he can make for himself in your body. Pain roars to life around his cock, radiating outward, a ripping and shredding that grows as he forces himself into you again, and then again, and then it’s happening for real, he’s begins thrusting so fast it knocks the breath from your lungs, slapping his hips against your backside as he grunts and groans behind you like a dumb animal. He batters some nexus of agony that sends you screaming, shrieking with every jerk of his hips, tears streaming down your face as you grip the blanket in clawed fingers.

“Please, Hans, stop, please!”you wail. “Stop, stop, stop—”

His hand grips back of your head, turning your face downward—pressing it against the bed, muffling your mouth and nose and eyes into the blanket—

He jerks against you as agony writes itself into your bone marrow. Your hands circle in on themselves so tightly you feel your fingernails bite into your palms. Any memory of laughter you ever had abandons you.

Then, suddenly, mercifully, he’s forcing himself into you as deeply as he can, groaning loud, and something warm blooms in you, squelches out warm and sticky as he pulls in and out a few more times. He stills then from his furious rutting, hanging over you, panting.

Then he pulls out. Your husband lets you go and rolls over, breathing hard on the bed. You lay absolutely dead still, shaking violently, every muscle in your body tensed up painfully tight.

“Hans,” you whimper, “Hans.”

“Mm-hm,” he hums.

“Hans.” Every nerve is vibrating with pain. “Hans, that hurt.”

There is a long silence after. So long, you start to believe that he won’t say anything; that perhaps, even, he’s fallen asleep, and your words have dropped like flies from the air between you before they reached him.

But he hasn’t fallen asleep. Your husband shuffles off the bed, lifts the linen, and shuffles back into it. The lantern light is dim in the bedroom, but light enough that you can see the nonplussed expression on his face.

“Anna got used to it,” he says finally, eyes closing. “You will too.”

And he turns on his side and says no more to you.

You lay there aching. When you drag your fingers through the slick mess between your thighs, streaks of red intermingle with the clear and the white.

Suddenly you want this day to be over. You want to close your eyes and dream that it never happened—or maybe, if you go to sleep, you’ll awaken to find that it was all a dream after all, and you’re still home, your mother cooking just outside the bedroom door. Slowly, you inch off the bed, finding the floor with your stockinged feet, and go to douse the lanterns.

The room is cold and silvery without their light. Darkness gathers in the corners, around the weak glow of moonlight failing to fully penetrate the curtains over the window. You gingerly swipe the cloth from a nearby washbasin between your legs, cleaning up the remnants of your husband’s pleasure, and then, with nowhere else to go, you return to the empty side of the bed and crawl stiffly under the covers.

He does not stir as you settle in beside him. You lay your head on the pillow next to his and fold your hands over your stomach.

Outside and far away, you think you can hear the band still merrily playing. The darkness deepens, and deepens, until you can’t tell where it ends and you begin.

-

next

[deceitfuldevout]

Until Death (Part 2)

Arranged Marriage AU: Dark!Husband!Rafe Cameron x Wife!Reader

Word Count: +2,021

Warning(s): +18, Non con, Domestic Violence, Humiliation, Branding, Forced breeding, Gun violence, Mild gore, Hints of misogyny.

Author's Note(s): I know this is over the top. I am on my period and only seek *violence*.

During the next few months, it had only worsened. Rafe was starting to feel comfortable around you now that his father isn’t keeping tabs. It was about time you had some marital training. From now on, no more hanging around those Pogue friends of yours. It was about time you started acting like a part of higher society. He won’t have you embarrassing him.

He’s let you get away with more than enough snarky remarks, and if you kept that stubborn attitude there will be consequences. Those days of rebellion are over now. He came up with the perfect routine to follow. As head of the house, Rafe expects certain things from you. To serve and obey like a good wife should.  

It took some time and effort but eventually you learned. Whatever it takes to ease that temper of his. You remember the first few weeks of training. When Rafe would chase you down the halls of the manor with a riding crop in hand. He wouldn’t hesitate to bend you over his lap if needed. He absolutely loved to play ‘cat and mouse’, taunting his prey before going in for the kill.

Rafe took pleasure in watching that flicker of hope burn out. When he would arrive home from a long day of work, he wants you waiting patiently at the door. As soon as he steps in you get to work, greeting him when he enters. You place a chaste kiss on his cheek. Rafe isn’t satisfied by your lack of effort. He doesn’t try hiding the obvious frown, “Sweetheart,” his voice is stern, “That’s not what I taught you,” he’s waiting for you to get it right.

When you lean in again, he wraps his arms around your waist. Rafe takes the opportunity to lift you a few inches from the ground. He places you back down with his hands still cupping your rear. He grips and squeezes at the flesh before delivering a harsh smack. Then Rafe finally let’s go. Now sporting a cocky grin on his face, “I’m starving, what’s for dinner?” he can afford a private chef but prefers a home cooked meal instead. It was his way of keeping you busy at home. He loves watching you on camera playing housewife.  

You walk with him the dining room where dinner awaits. It instantly improves his mood. Dinner was quiet. Mainly because Rafe did most of the talking. He would start with how his day was, then extensive detail of how his office life was, followed by how happy he was to be back home. You’ve already tuned him out. It took a while to realize he’d been calling your name.

By the time you’ve realized it he’s already lost his temper. He slams the dinner table hard enough to break out of that daydream you were currently in. You look up from your plate to find a very pissed off Rafe. You let out a string of apologies that are quickly shut down by him, “Don’t, not another word out of your mouth until we’re finished,” A quiet Rafe is never a good thing.  

Although you were exhausted from the multiple tasks today, you wanted Rafe to hear you out. So, you try to make up for it the only way you know how. Dressed in a seductive camisole that was hiding a lacy two-piece. As soon as Rafe spots you he’s at a loss for words. This time it was different, you decided to take charge by straddling his waist. You brought his hands to your hips before fastening your pace. Rafe stares back with hooded lids. There’s a look of hunger in his eyes. That’s exactly where you need him. Desperate and wanting.

He lifts his head to catch a breast, teasing the other with his free hand. You moan with pleasure, raising your hips faster to catch the rising orgasm. Rafe could feel you were close. His hand dips down to find that bundle of nerves. He gives it a few rubs before tugging at it. You instantly melt into a puddle of pleasure. Your head falls back as you felt the wave of pleasure hit. After coming down from your high that’s when you realize the slick between your legs. Rafe came, hard.

You were stuffed to the brim with his spunk. He held you close, gently turning the both of you onto the bed. Your head now pressed against his chest. Rafe doesn’t pull out, he doesn’t want to. He seemed much more relaxed than earlier. That when you decide now would be a good time to tell him, “Rafe…" you start to plea your case, “I miss my parents,” you just wanted some space. It was something he’d been dreading of since the beginning. Rafe knew very well you were a free spirit. It would take some time to break that out of you. He needed to make you more reliant on him. So, for the past few months he’d been tampering with your birth control.

Yet no news of a pregnancy was made. He assumes it was from stress. What was stressful he hadn’t a clue. He gave you everything. What more could you possibly want? He huffs, “Fine,” grabbing your jaw to face him, “But I’m coming along,” he’s not going to risk you falling out of line. The last thing he needs is for you to embarrass him. Tears of joy stream down as you kiss him repeatedly. He couldn’t hide the grin on his face. Not when his adorable wife was so doting over him.  

As each day passed, Rafe began to grow weary. He was nervous taking you out for the first time. His suspicions only grew when you start to pack a few bags. To his knowledge this was supposed to be a short trip. He chose the very day you were going to leave to start an argument. He'll be damned if he's sending his wife back to the cut. What if you ran away? Or worse, you running away with some Pogue. He'd grown suspicious for a while now.

It was the day of your trip. After waiting for Rafe downstairs, you try searching for his whereabouts. To your surprise, he was still sat at his desk. You couldn't believe it. He hadn't even bothered to pack his bags. Hell, he even had the gall to be upset. This wasn't fair, you were the one who was supposed to be in a bad mood.

Rafe starts, "Where is it?" he states. You roll your eyes, "Where is what Rafe?" as soon as he stands you step back. Already prepared for the worst as your hands fly in front, "Rafe..." tears begin to brim. You blink them away. It''s not like they would help. You sigh, "Where is what--" that's when he pounces, Rafe grabs you by the arm and pulls you to his desk.

He slams you against it with a 'thud'. All the air escapes your lungs. At that moment you start to cry harder. He growls in your face, "Where the fuck is it?!" Rafe had grown suspicious when you stopped wearing your wedding ring. He wants everyone to know you're off limits. You try to catch your breath, still attempting to muster up some words, “It doesn’t fit me anymore…”

“Bullshit,” "N-no! I swear! It doesn't fit me!" you're a sputtering mess. Tears and spit ran down your face. Rafe doesn't buy the act, not one bit. He wants you to prove to him your loyalty. He flips you over, pulling up your skirt before yanking down the garment. He aims his leaking tip against your folds. He fucks you against his desk, grunting into your ear a string of curse words and threats. Rafe reaches for something next to him, “You won’t wear the ring? Fine,” he picks up a wax stamp, still warm from earlier.

Still hot to the touch. Rafe presses his entire bodyweight on top of yours to prevent you from escaping. He traps your hand under his, isolating your ring finger from the rest. That's when you begin to panic, “Rafe! Rafe let go! Let go of my—“ You spot the tool in his hand. Now you were certain that he intends to burn you with it.

You thrash against his larger body, trying your best then break free form the grip he has on you. He takes the heated brand, hovering right above your digit. He then presses it tightly against your finger, ignoring the wail of agony escaping your lips. The smell of burning flesh consumes the room. A part of you wants to hurl from the stench alone.

When he pulls it away you cry harder. Rafe is in awe as he stares back at his initials now permanently burned into your finger. Fuck, he's never been more turned on in his life. Rafe thrusts his hips at a faster pace. He came with a roar, emptying a load deep inside. That's when he pulls something from his pocket. Your wedding ring. Rafe presses his lips against your ear and whispers, "Here, you won't be needing this," he drags the ring down your abdomen and past your mound. He coats the ring with your arousal before pushing it inside.

His fingers reach as far as they can go. Your breath hitches, feeling his thick digits stretching you. A whine escapes your lips. You clung to the desk for dear life. Rafe leans back in his chair, lighting up a cigarette to get a good view of his girl. He feet give your legs a light kick to part them. His cock twitches at the sight of his spunk leaving your womb. He watches as you attempt to push the ring out, evening offering to help get it out.

If the treatment wasn't humiliating enough, he would always find a way to make it worse. You turn around, now leaning against the desk with parted legs. His hands reach in between your legs. As one of them pushes a few fingers inside, the other toys with your clit. Rafe retrieves it with that same triumphant look after getting what he wants. This was the final straw. Your finger stung, you were tired and in unimaginable pain. Yet still, that spark of anger over came all senses, "Keep it, I want a divorce," with that you left his office.

You could hear Rafe's steps approaching and make a run for it. You beat him to the nearest guest room, locking the door behind. Rafe continuously slams at the door, "Don't even think about it! You're not leaving me! Do you hear me?!" Rafe screams your name at the top of his lungs. It startles you. When he starts to kick the door that's when you attempt to hide. Quickly finding a place under a bed. After a while the sound of Rafe's voice starts to die out. Hopefully his anger would subside, and this would all be over with. But all he could think of was how to get through this door.

A wave of relief is shortly lived. Until the sound of a gun firing is heard on the other side. Rafe shoots the door a few times until the lock finally breaks. You muffle a sob when you spot his feet standing right in front of the hiding spot. He calmly calls for your name, "Baby...please come out..." his voice is calm, too calm, "Don't make this harder for us," as if it would help. What other choice did you have?

You held out a hand. Rafe bends down to pull you out from underneath. He held you tightly, as if you'd disappear at any moment. He never sounded so desperate in his life, "You're not walking out on me," his grip tightens, "You will never leave me, do you understand?" he expects you to answer. Of course, you caved in, "I--I understand..." a stray tear escapes. Rafe's expression quickly changes. He swipes it away with the back of his thumb, "I love you, you know that, right?" his voice breaks, yet there are no tears.

That day you had to explain to your parents that you'd fallen ill. But don't worry, Rafe would take care of you. Through sickness and in health as promised.

[goatskickin]

On the fourth day of GOATmas, my true love sent to me...

...tables! Wood recolors of tables!

I've recolored every dining table that EA has created in a pack or expansion that:

1) already had wood recolors

2) didn't have wood recolors, but I felt that wood recolors suited them

For the colors: I am using Dynamite, Depth Charge, Shrapnel, Safety Fuse and Time Bomb by @pooklet, and Nesert and Honey by Io aka @serabiet.

Please check out the Add-On's I've recommended! They are meshes made by community members that will use these textures too. Or, they are bits of CC that go along with these nicely!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Customers First - tabledininghotelround

notes: really good round table with hardly any RC's I liked. Uses the textures it came with, edited some

Recommended Add-On: #1

Discourse Dining - tablediningcolonial

notes: not my fave table but it's okay. somewhat edited textures but 90% original

Recommended Add-On: #1

Fancy Schmancy Dining Table - tablediningsocialite

notes: other than eliminating the fancy circles on this, the texture is the same. The 'metal' bits I have made into wood instead.

Recommended Add-On: #1

FLATWÖUD Dining Table - tablediningdanishmodern

notes: underrated! Mixture of 2 BG textures on this. Not shiny.

Recommended Add-On: #1

La Table Dining Table - tablediningbrasserie

notes: texture was hardly touched

And the textures work for the 2 tile version that comes with NL, wee!

Luxiary Ample King Dining Table - tablediningclub

notes: the OG fancy table! Same texture.

Recommended Add-On: #1

Manor Hours Paree Dining Table - tabledininglongvictorian

notes: the OG other fancy table, but loooong. 2 textures mixed together.

Merry Making Dining Table - tablediningmedieval

notes: I was pleasantly surprised by how nice these textures are!

Recommended Add-On: #1, #2

Milano Royale Dining Table - tablediningmodular

***This shares textures with the Plasticity Node Pod dining chair AND the Stark Inspiration dining chair aka chairdiningloftfork!

The chairs are coming soon. Day 6!

Missionaire Dining Table - tablediningmission

notes: best texture! Love how heavy this one looks

Recommended Add-On: #1

PINEGULTCHER Dining Table - tablediningoutdoorwood

notes: MASSIVELY improved by taking away the shine

Recommended Add-On: #1

Ranchers Round Table - tablediningcountry

notes: also one of my favorite textures, so it's untouched

Download - Sims 2 Tables - Wood Recolors

*notable exception: no recolors of Exploding Dragon Dining Table. I'd much rather do something fancy and detailed with this table. Making plain RC's of it just would not do it justice. I may circle back to this table.

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Recommended downloads:

[shadowandlightt]

Of Nightmares and Memories /two/ Azriel X Reader

Series Warnings: Kidnapping. Mistreatment. Cursing. Pining. Violence. Depression. Talks of suicide. Eventual smut

Part one Part Three

You dream of the blue of his siphons. The hazel of his eyes. You see him every night, whether you’d like to or not. He seems to invade everyone of your senses, always. Even from miles away. Even if he was dead. But you swore you’d know if he perished when Amerantha took over. You felt as if you would’ve felt his loss deep within your gut. 

But there had been no word of Velaris, or the people inside it. Had your brother truly been able to hide it all of these years? He’d been stripped of so much of his power, but did he have enough to keep your beloved city safe? 

“He wants you in the dining room for dinner.”

“And if I say no?” You question the red haired fox. 

His eyes, one golden and mechanical, narrowed on you, “He’ll drag you down by your hair.”

“I’d like to see him try,” You bark out a laugh, knowing you could shred him in a moment if only you had use of your power. 

The faebane they kept you full of made sure you were just a sliver of who you once were. Your skin was dull and lifeless, gone was the wondrous glow of immortality. Because you might as well have been mortal, plain and easy to kill. But you still had the self defense that your brothers taught you. You still had the ability to fight back. You were weak now, yes, but you could still just as easily use one of the butter knives on Tamlin. 

“Please,” Lucien begged, “Don’t be difficult. It’s been a hard day.”

“He lost another, then?” I question, head cocking to the side. 

“Don’t bring it up or he’s likely to skin you alive,” Lucien warned you. 

“Again, I’d like to see him try.”

Lucien’s eyes seem tired as he looks at you. Your fight seemed to dissipate as you looked at him. You knew time was running out, far too fast. Soon enough Amarantha would take control over every Fae, no matter where they lived. Tamlin was the only one keeping her at bay, and his power was almost hers for the taking. Then what would become of you? When her goons came for Tamlin and ransacked the house, surely they’d find you and drag you before her. Then you’d just be a tool to further your brother’s pain. 

“Ah, I can see it now,” He sighed, “You’ve realized your fate, if this doesn’t work.”

“He’ll never convince a human to love him,” You shake your head, “No matter how charming  he can be.”

“For your sake, you best hope he does.”

You follow him from your room, or your cell, whatever seems to fit one day to the next. The manor house is quiet as you make your way through it, servants not sparing you a second glance. They all knew you were being held prisoner, yet they could do little to change it, without incurring the High Lord’s wrath. 

For once in your life, you were helpless, and had been since that day in the clearing.

“It would’ve been so much easier for him,” You mutter, “Had he just let them kill me that day. Instead he had them spare me and now I stay a constant headache.”

“More like a constant thorn in his side,” Lucien smiled slightly.

The thought brought a sly smile to my face. You prepared your stone mask as you grew closer to the dining room. Lucien was the only one you allowed to see a sliver of who you were. You allowed him to see more of yourself than you should, because he saw someone who was a little more delicate, a little more capable of love and sadness. Not the stone exterior of the Night Court that we worked so hard to maintain.

“Play nice with him tonight,” Was Lucien’s last warning before we reached the golden doors. 

You schooled your face into a bored mask, as if all of this was beneath you. For centuries you’d been playing this part. Without so much as a break from it. Only when you were sure you were alone in my rooms did you let the mask fall. Only then did you cry out for my family, for my home. 

“Glad you decided to join us,” Tamlin’s voice carried from the end of the table. 

Your eyes roll, “As if I had a choice.”

A snarl escapes from Tamlin, claws slowly growing. You smile sweetly at him for a moment, before throwing out what little power you had left to reach into his head. Just enough to let him know you were there, just enough to be a pest when you wanted. But it wasn’t without difficulty. Sweat beaded on your forehead as you strained against the confines of your power. 

“Enough,” He yelled, slamming his hands down against the table. 

You flinch back, seeing the beast start to emerge. For a moment you allowed yourself to feel the slight fear that crept in. You were weak now, unable to protect yourself as you used to. He’d taken your power, your freedom, and your strength away from you. Stripped it away as if it were nothing. He should have just killed you in the forest that day. 

“Where is the little human?” You question, sniffing the air, “Her…stench is hard to miss.” 

“She’s getting cleaned up,” Lucien spoke up, “Might be best if you eat before Alis is finished with her.”

I turn slowly to glare at him, before turning back to Tamlin, “Still keeping me as your dirty little secret then?”

“She doesn’t need to know about you.”

“You know, I hope you can charm this one,” You snarl, “Because time is running out. Soon enough we’ll all be-”

“Enough!” He roars, “I know how much time we have left. I should have killed you when I had the chance.”

“Oh, you still have the chance, but the second he finds out I’m still alive,” You can’t help but laugh as you shake your head, “Well… then you’ll really wish you allowed them to kill me.”

“If she finds out you're alive…” Lucien trailed off with a look from Tamlin. 

I flop down into a chair and scoop up a glass of wine, “Well, this is going to be a fun couple of months, then, won’t it?”

“Behave,” Lucien snaps. 

“I am behaving,” I reply sweetly. 

“Eat, before I lock you up and forget about you.”

“Now now,” I sigh, “It’s been centuries, surely we can be a little more civil than that,”

“You’re too much like your brother,” Tamlin sighs, leaning back into his chair. 

“You almost sound sad about that,” You note, “Regretting crossing him?”

“No.” 

You hum and drink your wine before tucking into the food before you. Despite knowing there was faebane in it, you couldn’t stop eating. You hardly ate anymore. Just enough to keep you alive, but today you were starving. 

“Slow down before you make yourself sick,” Lucien said slowly. 

You growl at him before slowly down slightly. If only your brother could see you now. See what you’d become. If only Az and Cas could see you, what would they think? Or Mor or Amren. You weren’t sure what they would say if they could see you now. How different you’d become. 

Time passed slowly. The weeks dragged on, as you were only allowed out of your room when Feyre, the human, wasn’t around. Tamlin was doing well with dancing around your existence. Firenight was quickly approaching, and you felt the excitement deep in your bones. If there was one night that you would beg to be released it was Calanmai. 

“You know you can’t.”

“Please Lucien,” You all but beg, “He’ll be there, I know it.”

“Which is why you can’t leave the manor,” He explains.”

“I just want to see him for myself,” You whine, “I need to see him, just once before the fifty years is up. Just once.”

“He’ll know.”

“Tamlin will be too caught up in the rite to notice,” I remind him, “And you can manage a convincing glamor.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Just this once,” You say softly, “I wouldn’t ask if time wasn’t running out.”

“I know.”

“Just, please.”

“You stay next to me the whole time,” He explains, “Running off could get you killed.”

“I know.”

“Thirty minutes, that’s all you’ll get.”

“It’s more than I thought I’d get.”

Your heart hammered in your chest with the prospect of seeing your brother again after centuries of being apart from him. You knew you wouldn’t be able to tell him who you were, you wouldn’t be able to leave with him. Or speak with him. But you’d be able to lay eyes on him, and know that in whatever capacity, he was okay. He was alive, even if he was a slave to the bitch under the mountain. He’s still alive. And that’s all you could ask. Even if the rest of your family was dead, at least he lived on.