#masters in t his hall

[tonycries]

Madam Zenin - T.F.

Synopsis. There’s nothing that rouses Toji, the infamous head of the Zenin clan, nothing that will make him lose control - until they take what’s most important to him. You.

Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, arranged marriage, clan leader! Toji, kídnapping, the elders súck, Toji goes INSANE, BRÉEDING, talks of an heir, oraI (fem), fíngering, Toji’s powers, FÉRAL Toji, créampie, spítting, overstím, AU if Toji didn’t leave the clan, slight misogyny from Naoya, slight bIood, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 6.2k

A/N. Didn’t realize how much clan leader!Toji made me quake so…Hope y’all have a good day <3

“Who took her?”

“M-master?”

There wasn’t a single individual in the Zenin Estate that didn’t think Toji Zenin wouldn’t kill them in the blink of an eye. Happily, at that. 

It was rumored he was cursed, ruthless. And out of everyone - elders, servants, children - not one didn’t look over their shoulder behind every corner of the sprawling Zenin house, flinching at his mere shadow. Broad, towering, wrenching out nothing but hushed apologies and deep bows - they never dared to look into his devastating eyes. 

And right now, that pale-faced attendant of yours could only tremble - pray - she won’t be next on Toji’s long, long list of victims when the looming man himself bends to meet her lowered gaze. And oh-

Fuck. 

No one ever saw the vicious head of the Zenin clan smile - no one. 

Except you.

And here he had the most dangerous grin gracing his features, darkened olive eyes wide - crazed, when they halt on that slightest drop of red sinking into the tatami mats.

“My wife.” The other woman jumps when he loudly kicks your chamber door open. Abruptly barking out a deep, humorless laugh at the disheveled emptiness inside, “Who took my wife?”

---

Young master Zenin - Toji Zenin. Your husband.

It’s only been a few months since your stiff, lavish wedding ceremony to him - part of an arranged deal made between his clan and your own. Your parents practically leapt at the chance to marry into such an esteemed jujutsu name, forgetting all those dark rumors swirling around the young head at the first golden glint of the Zenin family’s massive treasury.  

Sure, they promised to treat you well, to prime you into becoming the new madam of their distinguished household. But you knew better - it wasn’t your upbringing or your cursed technique that brought you here, they couldn’t care less - no, it was because of an heir. 

The one thing that the Zenin family didn’t have. 

And the one thing Toji Zenin refused to give them.

That much was obvious when just minutes after exchanging vows and the ceremonial sake, a group of todgering elders had thrust a heady antidote for conception into your hands, smiling smugly as if they’d just given you the wedding gift of the century. Of course, your all-new husband didn’t even look at you properly on your wedding night - opting instead for a short, husky goodnight and to sleep in a separate bedroom down the hall from the newly-weds’ chamber. 

He wasn’t a cruel husband, you think, and he was attractive - painfully so - and felt more like a gruff acquaintance than anything. But the only problem was that he didn’t embrace you, not even a fleeting kiss.

Even when you really wanted Toji to.

“-T-Toji?” you’re breathing shallowly, eyes blinking up hazily at the dim lighting. It comes out small, cracking so pathetically at the end.

“---Toji--even----”

“No use--- had--months---”

“---keep her to myself--”

Instantly, you’re sitting upright in a cold, wooden chair. Heart thumping wildly against the ribs of your body, it bangs at the thickly digging rope wrapping around your body.

Shit shit shit - where were you? The last thing you remembered was chatting with your attendant in your room, and she’d handed you a brand-new perfume to smell- Fuck. Where was-

“Ah, you’re awake.” There’s a high, sing-song voice from somewhere on your right, and your blood runs chillingly cold when you recognize that voice. “Honestly, I hoped you wouldn’t be around for this part but-” Naoya Zenin claps his hands to get the attention of every other elder hunched around the traditional Japanese room. “-that just makes it all the more fun, right?”

With the one tiny lantern being lit overhead, you could make out those scraggly smiles, the sharp glint of the Zenin Clan’s famed katanas. A tear stumbles down your trembling cheek, tasting salty on your lips.

“Aww, not the tears.” Naoya guffaws, “You know m’not good with the tears.” Those ropes pinning your hands behind your back rub raw with your frantic movement, creaking and unstirring despite your best efforts. “Try and try all you want, sweetcheeks, but a failure of the Zenin clan will only be met with the appropriate consequences.”

A failure.

The words would’ve cut deep had they not been the very same ones spat at you at every clan meeting - the exact reason you didn’t accompany Toji to the one today. Toji, you think. Fuck, how you wished you’d have gone just this one time. 

Straightening your spine the best you could in this binding chair, you ask - firm, pretending for all the world to be as confident as you’re not. “What do you want from me?”

It’s as if your question is the biggest joke that every scowling man in this room had heard, and they all burst into wheezing, riotous laughter. Some even slapping their knees - even Naoya gives you a cold, leeringly gleeful grin, “Just as mouthy as he is, huh?” He turns back to the elders, “She’s asking what we want!”

You bristle at another bout of cackles, struggling to hiss out a strangled, “Well- well if you bastards just fucking told me-”

“An heir.” 

Fuck, you had a feeling it was this.

“What? You pussies get your rocks off by wondering about mine and Toji’s sex life?” you let out shrill laughter, mouth moving before your brain because fuck, if it was all going to end now, might as well spew out everything you’ve wanted to since you walked in here. You shake your woozy head, “Oh fuckin’ grow up, if the man himself wanted an heir then you’d know-”

Eyes enraged, he takes a heated step towards you, “You little-”

“Naoya.” The strained drawl of an elder you’d seen around the corridors stops him straight in his tracks, and Naoya gives the man a hasty, reluctant bow. “Finish it. Before he gets back.”

Those last few words splatter a few drops of panic into your words, and a few more exhausted tears stream down your face. 

“Heh, whatever.” he’s taking one last greedy lookover down your rattling figure. “Would’ve taken y’for myself if I didn’t think he’d kill me, sweetcheeks. What a shame.” Trailing off airily, he turns back towards where you spot another spiking glisten in the dark, a metallic twang! rings through the thick, musty atmosphere. “Who knows, maybe his next wife will actually listen to a thing or two.”

Next wife. 

You’re not sure why but the thought made your heart clench. And you’re gasping when he turns back around - silver katana in hand - trying to scream, yell, anything for help. But no sound comes out. 

Instead, all you can do is gape when Naoya crowds in menacingly closer, you can just hear the smile in his voice when he coos mockingly, “You’re much better when you shut up, doll.” You press your lips tightly together at the same, sullied use of Toji’s nickname for you - wondering how he would react to all of this. Wincing at the cutting whoosh! of the katana being raised up, up, up- “Any last wo-”

BANG!

You’re grimacing at the loud crashing of wood and panels, sliding doors ripped to shreds. And in the hazy cloud of dust you could make out the outline of a tall, heaving figure. Big arms swaying with his choppy breaths, he’s standing still - dangerous.

And even in the soft darkness, your unblinking gaze caught on his gleaming, feral smile, sharp canines bared like some beast. Eyes carnivorous, widened as he assesses the room like a predator lurking in on its prey.

The drop of fear hits you before the realization - Toji.

Letting out a strangled yelp, “T-Toj- mmpf!” Before cold, wrinkly fingers come up from behind to cover your mouth. But even the slightest sound of your voice has Toji’s form jolting - fingers twitching on the handle of his blade, like electricity zapped through his entire body, and you can hear the elder behind you take in an obvious gasp when his eyes lock onto the two of you. 

Finally. 

Toji’s lips part silently, and abruptly, you’re being let go of as if you burned. “You.” 

It happens so fast that you’re not even sure you imagined it, in a split-second, the long, jagged dagger in Toji’s hand is being flung right at his shivering target. . 

And you knew he won’t miss - he never will, because you’re not even blinking when a drawn-out groan of pain echoes from behind you. Followed by an echoing thud!

“My wife.” Toji’s rasping baritone sends goosebumps racing down your spine, you’re puffing in a quick inhale at just how close he sounds. Sure enough, when you look up, you’re met with softened sage eyes, and crooked beginnings of a smile. “My wife.” he breathes out, as if he still couldn’t really believe it. But any and all tenderness in his body bleeds away when Toji abruptly looks over his shoulder at the men crowding around the entrance with a thunderous glare, “Next.”

Naoya is the first to dare to speak - to even move. Yelling, “Y-y- do you even know who that- the crime it is to kill one of the elders-”

Fuck, you swear Toji looked elated at that, that savage grin still plastered on his face, he grits through clenched teeth, “Next.” 

Next. Next. Next. Next. 

It’s all that kept being laughed - laughed - out when Naoya activated his own cursed technique, absolutely nothing against Toji’s rampant ravaging. The thrum of jujutsu makes your head throb, and Toji’s steps sound deafening. Pressurized lunges towards the man himself, and before he can think - before he can even breathe - Naoya’s being pinned face-down on the tatami floor. Face stinging with the force of the stronger man’s foot on his head, pressing it underneath his wooden sandals. He speaks softly - as if talking down to a child - over the strained pop! pop! pop! of joints. “For taking my wife, for insulting the very soul of my soul.”

Toji wasn’t done, he wasn’t even stopping. He was out of control. Ready to kill. To break. 

And none of the elders could do anything - in fact, they fall fatally still onto their knees at Toji’s growing smile, the slow turn of his head. All knowing they were on the very brink of death himself. “Who’s next?”

Fatigue and relief hits you like a semi-truck - five of them, in fact. And you can feel your body drooping lower, vision tinging with black at the corners. Over the grotesque crunching of limbs, you think you could hear a faint, gruff laughter of, “Yeah, ya might wanna sleep this one out, doll.”

---

Toji never wanted to let you out of his sight. Never. 

And with you so vulnerable like this - dozing off gently on his silken bedsheets, body curling subconsciously into his benevolent hold - he thinks he never will.

Mellow, rounded tips of his thick fingers glide down your skin, sensitive from the hot water and the way he’d washed away every evidence of the blood and pain from just a few hours before. 

“I’m sorry.” Toji breathes, hushed, a thumb gliding away a stray droplet of water on the apple of your cheek. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-” He connects his forehead with your damp one, eyes fluttering shut. “I’m sorry. If I hadn’t come to see you early from the meeting- just knew something felt wrong.”

“Sorry for what, Toji?”

Your teasing tone of voice shocks him to his very core, and yet he can’t find it in himself to pull away - fuck, he can’t even dare open his eyes to look. “All of it.” he’s spitting out, tormentingly.

It takes you a while to find the words, “It’s- it’s not your fault.” you nod, a wet hand coming up to comb through Toji’s soft black tresses. “It’s neither of ours.”

There’s a few seconds of silence, in which he’s scrubbing non-existent beads of water off of you. Long strokes - slow, and purposeful - and you have to hold back your sudden yelp when it hits you that this was the first time that he saw you naked.

“But-” he falters, shaking his head - before thinking better of it. And you take the moment to appreciate just how gorgeous he is up close, every spike of pink in his worried lips, dark lashes kissing his high cheekbones. “But it’s over now, you can- you can go back to your clan.” he grimaces, still looking like he wanted to rip something - someone - apart. “The Zenin family is done.”

Done. 

“Toji.” you exhale, luring in your face so close to your husband’s. Too close. “Come with me. Fuck this Estate, fuck having an heir- and fuck the elders, if they’re not dead by now anyway.” They were - every single one - bodies piled high in the same room you were carried tenderly out of, you find out later. You steady onto your elbows on that unfamiliar mattress - Toji’s, you distinctly realize. And his brows crinkle upwards into an expression you’ve never seen on him before.

“I…”

“And-” A hand of yours wraps around his throat, nails digging into the racing pulse of his at the side of his milky neck. “-kiss me.”

Then he’s raising his eyes to look at you and fuck-

You were fucked. 

You might as well have just signed away your own will because here was the man that was covered in blood not too long ago, here he was with his lids hooded, pupils blown. “My wife.” he repeats that same mantra from before, lips parting like something so dark, visceral, was poked dangerously awake. Like he couldn’t quite believe it. His eyes flicker in a lingering triangle across both of your eyes, your lips. Just a hair’s breadth away. Straining out a raspy, “Oh fuck.”

Depraved - Toji’s lips are so depraved . And he’s drinking you in like all his bloodthirst from before had liquidated into pure need. 

You’re mewling when a large palm brushes over to cup your cheek, tilting that pretty head of yours to deepen the kiss. “Toji.”

You shouldn’t have done that - oh, you shouldn’t have done that. Because the sound of his own name in your syrupy sweet tone makes him jolt. Jolt. His entire body rumbles with a deep, wrenched-out growl, followed very closely by a loud slam! of Toji’s fist banging down on the nearby bedside table. Only later will you find that perfectly indented hole in the shape of his hand, splinters scattered across the floor. 

Like wanted to keep in control - needed to keep in control. But was failing - miserably. 

“F-fuuuuck-” he draws out huskily into your mouth, that tiny scar always at the corner of his mouth catching on your lower lip when he takes it between his. Sucking on that slick-glossed seam harshly, it almost hurt - but it hurt so good. “You have no idea- absolutely no fuckin’ idea how much I’ve wanted to do this.”

And suddenly you’re so painfully aware of the way your robe hadn’t been tied up properly, feeling the cinch of your sensitive nipples against his rich yukata, the warmth of all five of his long fingers splaying out just below the curve of your tits. 

You can feel his needy hips rutting into yours - such raw strength in the way he holds your own still so easily. Pushing right into the bullseye between your legs with the outline of his massive, heated bulge. Languid, delicious drags.

“Fuck we shouldn’t-” he cries out when you’re reeling him back in with his plump lip tucked beneath your teeth. “You need to-” Before he’s being tugged back in again. And again. And again and again like one taste of your candied lips and he was addicted. Barely able to choke out a single syllable before mashing them back onto yours. Gruffing out a deep rumble from the depths of his sculpted chest, “Shit- y’know why I didn’t do this sooner? Why I didn’t just fuck you right then and there in front of hngh- everyone whenever I wanted to? Because I knew-”

He cuts himself off with a convulsing shudder, pulling away just enough that you whine disappointedly. “I was gonna fuckin’ ruin you.”

“Couldn’t- hngh-” you’re mewling at the delicate little strings of syrupy spit snapping. Spying down at the way his yukata was disheveled now, displaying such delicious panes of warm skin for you. “Couldn’t have guessed.”

Toji’s brows raise at your slightly bratty tone, lips curling into such a sinful smirk that it makes your cunt throb so hotly, despite the slowly cooling water. His eyes darken - as if something snapped. “Oh- you’re gonna fucking regret that, ma.”

And something did -  maybe his whatever restraint he had left, probably you by the end of this.

In an instant, you’re seeing a flash of that man- that monster from before. Baring you the most vicious grin inhumanly possible, if you didn’t know any better you’d have wondered how high the death count would be. The hundreds? The thousands?

He’s worshiping down your body like an apology for all that transpired before, hot, wet brandings of his mouth across each and every inch of skin he could reach. It made you whimper, it made you feel the powerful hum of his strength at his fingertips, it made you need more more more-

All you can let out is a drawling moan when he unapologetically snaps! the hem of your panties onto your heated skin, “Don’t be such a t-tease.”

Oh, you were so weak against the dark head of the Zenin clan, against the way he circles his two hands around your ankles. Easily pulling - hauling you across the plush mattress like some ragdoll. 

Not even hesitating before ripping your poor yukata off your body, until you’re left spread so shamefully underneath him, Toji knocking down hard onto his knees before you. 

“Well- whatever my wife wants…” the same dangerous grin grows along his face, glinting white teeth bared where they held your flimsy excuse of panties between honed canines. He murmurs the final few words hovering over where you needed him the most,  “...no elder or god themself could stop me from giving you.” 

RIP—! 

It’s the last thing breathed out of his heaving lungs before your poor underwear is being torn off of you by his very mouth, not wasting a moment before spitting them out, and burying his face between your trembly thighs. Not even taking in one last gulp of air, not even thinking because all Toji Zenin knew was that he was going to fucking die if he didn’t taste your sweet sweet cunt right now. 

“Oh f-fuck-” he’s musing, sharp tongue stuttering for once in his life. “Fuck fuck fuck- fuck-” You’re yelping when your jelly-like legs are pliantly thrown over Toji’s broad shoulders, digging into the muscles of his deltoids. “Can’t believe you’ve been-” He trails off so deliriously, planting a hot, thick glob of spit on your spread pussy lips once. Twice. Smearing that glistening coat along your puffy folds with the fat of his thumb, “-been holdin’ out on me like this.”

“Shit- s’too much.” you’re whining at the slippery gloss of the mess he’s made down below leaking down your slit. Threading your fingers through his silky locks, “I wasn’t holding out on anything, y’know-”

His wide-eyed gaze was locked on your sloppily winking hole, circling the rim of that needy ring of muscle with his pointed index. “God…” his hot breath fans your dripping cunt, “You might just be my god. Didn’t wanna bring a kid into this family but you’re so- so sweet m’thinking it might not be too bad.”

Those words are barely even registered in your mind before his pretty pink lips wrap themselves around your throbbing clit. Handsome cheekbones hollowing, droopy eyes rolling to the back of his head when Toji sucks. Whirling his tongue erratically around the sensitive nub, such lewd little squelches ring in your ears. 

“T-Toji—” your purring moans only make him bury his face even deeper, nose pressing up against the edge of your sopping slit. And each thorough drag of your slobbering cunt down his face makes you knock against the end of his chin, so thirsty with the way he was making out with your cunt. Like he couldn’t get enough - never will. “Y-you were the one-” the heels of your feet move up higher to loop at his neck. “-holding out.”

And you knew that Toji the strongest of his clan - you knew it took more than a mere, barely-lucid tug to have him clashing even deeper into your pussy. 

But he does for you anyway. 

“Fuck- fuck you little-” Toji’s own heavy tongue betrays him with a throaty moan, and he looks so furious. Seething at the way he was pussydrunk already. Greedy gaze so crazed that you’re back to wondering how high the kill count would be- would they all even fit on the Zenin Estate? “-f tha’s what you fuckin’ want.”

“Wha- oh!” you yelp at the sheer burning stretch of your legs being pushed up, up, up until your knees were knocking against your tits. And Toji takes the shamefully spread opportunity to bully one rummaging finger past your swollen folds. “Oh fuck- you’re reaching so- so-”

“Finish it.”

It takes you a second to realize that Toji’s addressing you, his tone so jagged. Words muffled when he pants them out into your weeping cunt. 

He’s pulling out his finger - intentionally curving exactly against all those sweet spots mushed into your velvety walls - only to brand your poor clit with a sharp smack! “Finish that fucking sentence, ma.”

“-deep!” your hips are bucking up at another hefty intrusion, Toji’s fingers relentless inside your elastic wall. Molding out your insides to memorize every bump of his knuckles, every neat curve of his short fingernails. “So so- deep, Toji.” you whine, your shaky hands coming to rest at where you could feel him pumping in and out feverishly into hidden nooks and crannies of your sopping cunt. “C-can feel you right- here!”

This earns you another smack! gifted once again on your awaiting clit, but any and all irritation is swept away when he’s clashing his lips with yours down below in such a messy kiss. Meshing around the bulge of his own large fingers, tongue rolling placatingly over your glisteningly ravaged clit. Flicking, “Yeah- definitely my kind of fucking goddess.” His own free hand dances up to rest about midway up your stomach, pressing down. “M’gonna be in even deeper soon, y’know. Trust me.”

It’s at this moment that Toji’s exploratory fingers find their greedy way to your bulbous g-spot, immediately crashing into it - hard. 

There. There there there, you want to say - but you don’t have to, because he could tell. Could feel the vice-like grip of your slicked walls, the way it’s almost difficult to hammer back into your cunt. 

“Yeah yeah I got it-” he’s humming cockily, back to dragging his lips all over your clit senselessly all over. “All you hafta to do is- hah-” He’s being cut off by his own ravenous thirst, slurping mouth grinding even faster into your pretty pussy. And all you can hear are those syrupy squelches and the smacking of Toji’s mouth, your whining ah! ah! ah! following with every push of his fingers forming around your gummy walls. Curling deftly to massage all your sweetest spots he’s already mapped out so scarily well. “-ahh fuck- can’t get enough. Would kill them all over again just for a single taste of this. Would kill everyone- burn down this entire fuckin’ city.”

You didn’t doubt it, and Toji didn’t let you - not for a single second. 

Because he was almost violent in his approach, bruisingly pushing apart your legs further and further with each sloppy, stumbling second. Looking up at you with his wild gaze, with such a feral grin you could feel along every crevice of your overwhelmed cunt. 

“Can tell ya liked that-” he’s huffing out a surprised bout of laughter, “Ohhh- ya like that very much, huh?”

His tongue was alternating between ravaging your clit and brushing against the teasing edge of your entrance now. Over and over. And you’re gifted with another imprinting smack! onto your quivering cunt - and another and another and another until you’re all but sobbing out such a broken, “Toji- m’so close, fuck- m’gonna cum, m’gonna cum–”

“Then cum f’me, my wife.”

It only takes a few more messy rams of Toji’s fingers knuckle-deep into your eagerly swallowing pussy until you’re crashing so aggressively into your high. Wave after wave of white-hot pleasure running down, down, down your spine and into where he was relentlessly stuffing your convulsing pussy. 

Fucking you over and over through your orgasm, the pretty sight of you so splayed out and ruined makes Toji’s mouth water. He feels like a damn dog with the way his tongue lolls out, grin widening, he murmurs absent-mindedly, “Yeah- wouldn’t be bad at all. Swear you’re gonna be the end of my sanity.”

Fuck, you shamelessly ogle the way his dark robe falls down his broad shoulders, revealing so many dips and curves of muscle after muscle. He was so large - so meticulously sculpted that your restless legs fasten around Toji’s slenderly toned waist, drawing him close until your bare chests were rubbing up against one another. “Heh- you don’t get to hold out on me anymore, doll.”

It sounded almost like a threat - but your bleary, orgasm-drunk mind only has the chance to wonder what exactly he would do if you did. If you didn’t give him - the one head of the Zenin clan that didn’t get everything he wanted handed to him on a silver platter since birth - the one thing he would kill for. Die for. 

You. 

So you’re smiling drunkenly, head tilted to one side, “What are you gonna do about it?”

Toji doesn’t answer - doesn’t even bother to. And the only response you’re getting is a strained laugh - delirious almost, like the mere thought of that was enough to shred away whatever was left of his sanity.

And yours - clearly - because in that very moment, Toji lets his throbbing cock finally spring out, smacking against his abs to leave a glisteningly wet smear of precum. So so angry, his fat weeping tip lets out another wave of syrupy precum at the chill of the heady air. 

Shit - he was big. 

Long, long shaft blending so prettily from a feverish red at his tip to the tan skin behind those tufts of black at his happy trail. Veins pulsing, girthy enough that you’re wondering back to his kill count, thighs twitching nervously to a close. 

“No- no no-” you could tell his tone was trying to veer into scolding, but you caught the way it cracks with so much raw need. “Don’t you fuckin’-” His hands just wrench your knees back open, green eyes just aflame at this point. “-dare.” 

His pointed smile was so dripping wet with your sweet sweet juices from before, trickling in a sloppy trail all the way from the glossy corners of his lips, down to his chin. And his eyes follow the splattering, thick puddle on your collarbone. 

“Oh-” Toji’s mouth falls into a wicked gasp, immediately, he’s surging forward to pool the syrupy mess on his hot tongue. “Heh- guess we really are just now consummating our marriage, huh?”

The movement causes his painfully rock-hard cock to just kiss at your puffy pussy lips, just mashing the fat round tip of his length between your slit. Teasing. So fucking filthy. 

“Toji-” you’re wrenching him by his dark hair to pant into his open mouth, like a mantra. “More- need more- fuck I need-”

“More?”  His shuddering rap is barely even audible, ringing straight to your very heated core, because he sounded so wrecked. So fucking utterly ruined. Voice a few octaves higher in disbelief, “My pretty girl wants my cock? Fuckin’ want-” And then it’s like all the air is being knocked out of your lungs - literally. Feeling as if you’re being split apart so sinfully so, “more?”

You couldn’t have answered if you’d wanted to - because Toji Zenin was fucking ruthless. Just as mean as those greedily lingering juts of his hips, pushing and pushing his massively rotund length past your first snug channel of muscle. 

But that didn’t matter, because your slutty cunt was speaking more than enough for the both of you - or at least that’s what Toji mutters, over and over when he pushes in jutting, unrhythmic jabs to squeeze himself deeper inside you. 

“Oh- oh my god–” you’re batting your heavy eyelids open to take in the way your overstuffed pussy just bulges around him. Lips spread so widely it was like they were conforming to each ridge and vein down Toji’s fat cock, beading a glossy sheen down every inch by fucking inch you were being fed. “So much- fuck, don’t know if I can take it.”

Toji Zenin would rather die than not have his pretty wife all overfilled with cock if that’s what it takes him. 

And by the way your teary eyes grow wider, he suspects his pussydrunk mind might’ve just babbled that out loud. “Heh…didn’t I tell ya, ma?” His low whisper puffs hotly against your ear, tugging tensely on your earlobe. “M’gonna fucking ruin ya.”

And it’s times like this that it’s so clearly impossible to forget that Toji is inhumanly human - that you are so unfairly nothing in a match up against him.

CRACK!

Because with one, harsh ram of his sharp hip bones smacking against the globes of your ass - every solid inch of his intimidating cock is slammed against your tightly cushioning walls. It’s such a ravaging intrusion and you swear you could feel him everywhere. Feel him thrumming hotly against sweet spots inside you that you didn’t even know existed. Finally, buried all the way to his thick hilt, yet still nuzzling his hips upwards for more-

“S’broken.” Toji muses, and for a second you didn’t know if he was talking about you or the suspiciously sagging bed. “Plan B.” 

It takes only two seconds for his beefy arms to pick you up as if you were weightless - god, he was treating you like some object. And the only time he’s not enveloped by your heavenly cunt is when you’re being shoved down like some slut onto the cool mahogany of Toji’s work desk, his firm front pressing up against your arched back.  

“Plan C is to just fuck you into the floor until it breaks.” he snorts throatily into your ear. 

And you wondered whether it was a joke - you hoped it was a joke. You almost half-believed it until he was back to bulldozing his plump tip back into your briefly-neglected cunt. Stretching the clingy rim of muscle to bend to his round length, fully. Oh, he’ll never get used to this sight. 

Yeah, you definitely weren’t making it out alive. 

“F-fuck you really are-” One hand of yours scrambles to blindly white-knuckle the smooth wood beneath you when Toji’s bludgeoning your pussy with powerful, long thrusts. Feeling every minute flex of his thick thighs behind your own, shuddering with each forceful hammer of his sweeping cock inside you. “-you really are in so deep.”

As if to confirm, the man himself glides down an open palm to your stomach. Pressing down hard with all five splayed-out fingers until Toji could feel the same incessant slam of his thumping cockhead, the cascading ripple of his heavy, cum-filled balls smacking against your ass. 

“Told ya- hah told ya so.” his cocky groans are whirling all throughout your mind, such a hot, melty mess with the sheer fucking stretch of Toji’s cock. “Y’know…I can’t help but imagine just how pretty you’d hngh- look all stretched out n’ swollen as a momma.”

You’re nodding deliriously, and the way his crashing thrusts were just bruising against your spongy cervix, bouncing off onto every sweetly hidden sensitive spot inside your elastic walls. “Shit- ya jus’ got wetter- ya like that? The thought of me fuckin a baby into ya?” he spits, long sloppy tongue coming up to taste the dredges of tears streaming down your face- shit, when did you even start crying? 

“Shh shhh- don’t cry–” he’s cooing, rewarding you with another heavy smack! right onto your poor clit. Every steady clash against your over-sensitive g-spot only sends a fresh wave of big fat tears for Toji to kiss at. “-don’t cry, don’t cry. Never f’me, m’never hah- gonna kill off anything that makes my pretty wife cry-” A soft, salty peck on your lips, “-n’ that includes me. If ya asked me to, ma. I’ll give ya anything you ever want.”

There’s a creaking slam! on the wooden surface, and a hasty look over your shoulder shows that Toji has hiked his knee up onto the desk. For a second, you wonder whether it hurt - whether the throbbing shaft of his cock wasn’t rubbed raw by now, whether his abs weren’t just burning with movement. Fucking you so recklessly into the desk.

But oh, you think Toji Zenin would care?

You think he would give a fuck about anything other than rutting riotously into your gripping cunt? Drilling into you again and again until your tip-toes don’t even reach the ground at the force of his pressurized thrusts. The change in angle has his leaky tip glide glossy lines right across the bottom of your dripping pussy and pressing down harshly onto your g-spot. So rough. So mean. You’re scrambling further and further up the desk and-

“Now now-” Toji hoists your weak hips up ever-so-slightly back to him, before pinning you to the desk with his full, heavy bodyweight. “No running away. Heh…how funny would it be if I actually did jus’ hngh- fuck a baby into ya right now?” His fingers get so sloppy on your clit, “Fill ya up- rub an heir right in everyone’s faces?”

“Shit- m’so close- again-” Your ears are popping at the pure saturated stimulation when his hand down below rolls over your clit. Desperate. Depraved. Glossing up the curve of his thick thumb with all the sweet slick beading out with each broken thrust. It’s like he was out of control - losing his fucking mind. And your delirious mind wondered whether you’d be next, that faint cracking of joints certainly not boding well for either of you. “Toji, m’gonna-”

He’s so erratic - sloppy. And so it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same - fuck, you didn’t even realize it at first.

So hard that your vision flashes red and white, breathing raggedly gasping in lungfuls as you rock your sticky hips back into Toji’s so greedily. Your voice is shot - because you’re moaning Toji’s name so loud that it almost felt disrespectful, echoing across the sex-thickened air. “Tha’s right- scream as loud as you want, ma. It’s just us in this house.”

And maybe it was that - maybe it was the feeling of your velvety walls clamping down hard around his achy length - maybe it was just the way you’re whispering out such saccharine sweet, “Cum inside.”

Because Toji’s fractured sanity can only handle a few more unkindly bullying drives into your gushing cunt before he’s cumming and cumming so much he thinks he might die. 

Doesn’t know if he can - if he wants to - stop.

“Oh- ohhh fuck- didn’t think I’d actually-” You feel a branding bite inside the crook of your neck as his sloppy white seed splatters at your inner thigh with each rummaging thrust forward. Oozing down in messy, thick dredges. “-hngh- gonna fill you up so good- until you can’t take it anymore.” You didn’t know if you already could - because you felt so full. Toji’s syrupy cum sloshing around with each ram of his hips, coating your walls in a creamy, slick-like sheen on the inside. 

“Yes–” you sigh over another splintering crack! from somewhere, “Fuck fuck fuck- need you to- hngh, wanna make you a daddy- give you an heir, To-”

It’s as if he couldn’t bear to hear your swollen lips part with his name, because Toji’s shutting you up with a sweltering kiss. Still mounted and rutting into you so animalistically, “the best- the best momma, you’re gonna be the best momma-” he hushes into your mouth. Pliantly kneading your body into a sinful arch for him, you barely even register it when he’s carrying you away. Two thick fingers pooling his glistening cum, inching them back into your stretched-out cunt - “Don’t waste a single drop now- hngh- fuck, you’ll look so pretty all full.”

Before you know it, you’re being sprawled out so easily on the clean tatami mats below, face down, your hips being propped up by one of Toji’s. And in your bleary peripheral vision, you could just about make out how ruined that desk was - how broken. How the fuck haven’t either of you broken any bones, yet?

Or maybe you have - you wouldn’t even know at this point, because Toji was still slamming into your poor, overspilling pussy again. His harsh grunt puffs out in a feverish breath against your ear, “Told ya I was gonna ruin you, doll. Better get ready-” He’s punctuating each word with a sloppy, sold thrust, pace picking up to fuck you so thoroughly into the floor. “Because I have a Plan D and a Plan E until m’sure you’re givin’ me an heir.”

A/N. Ooo what if I made a clan leader series? Thoughts?

Plagiarism not authorized.

[luveline]

hey!! I'd love to see one where maybe jack and hotch try speaking to the baby in pregnant!reader's tummy :))

thank you for requesting! fem, 1k

You sniff Aaron’s hair. It’s your right as his wife to enjoy his smells. You’re too tired for subtlety. “You know how many weeks I am today?” you ask. 

You’re in a bubble together. Aaron answers with his usual calm tenor. “You are twenty seven weeks today, honey.” 

It’s endearing that he knows. It’s nice to have found a good one. To never have to worry about compassion or care. Which isn’t to say he’s perfect, he makes wrong decisions, and he disappoints you sometimes, but still, he’s a good one. You aren’t perfect either and you don’t have to be, all you need to do is love and respect one another as much as is physically possible, and you do.  

“Mm,” you hum, drawing a heart into his arm, “and you know what they say around this time?” 

“I’m not sure.” 

“She can hear you, if you want to talk to her.” 

“Really?” 

“That’s what I read earlier on. That if you talk to her through my stomach, she can probably hear your voice. By full term she’ll have hearing like me and you.” 

“Is that true?” he asks, resting his hand on your bump. Sometimes when the baby is in a bad mood and her foot feels like it’s making a bruise through your skin, all Aaron has to do is touch you, and she stops. 

“Well, according to the baby book. They say by twenty nine weeks it’s a sure thing.” 

“Can I speak to her?” 

You brush through his hair with your pinky nail. “Sure, sweetheart. You can talk to her all night long, I’m sure she’d love to hear your voice.” You push the hair from his forehead. “I like hearing you talk.” 

“Lay back,” he says. 

Aaron sits up and you lay down, your head in the pillows, your pregnancy cushion a support on your left side. He slides your t-shirt up slowly as though giving you time to say no. He begins to rub slow circles around the bump, before laying his head flat to he bed, his lip less than two inches from your distended tummy. 

“Hi, baby,” he says, unabashed. “How are you feeling?” 

You laugh. He peeks up at you. 

“Sorry, it’s just funny.” 

“It’s okay. I’d laugh if you started asking my stomach questions too…” He smiles. “But my baby’s in there, so you’ll have to forgive me.” 

“I won’t laugh again, promise.” 

“It’s fine if you do. I’m finding it hard to take myself seriously.” He slows his rubbing. “Baby, if you can hear me, please say hi… I love you. I’m so happy you’re getting bigger.” 

The longer he talks, the less funny it becomes. His melodic murmuring turns praising, he talks of you and Jack and every amazing thing waiting for the baby in the world when she’s done cooking. He tells her he loves her, loves you, that she’s beautiful even though she’s shaped like a GMO kidney bean. He’s totally relaxed. You fall in love with him all over again. 

“And it looks like your big brother wants to say hi too,” he says. 

You perk up. Footsteps rush down the hall to the master bedroom, and a knock echoes fast. Jack doesn’t wait for an answer, bursting in with a happy gasp. “I knew you were still awake,” he says. “Please can I come watch TV with you?” 

“Sure, buddy, but we aren’t watching anything right now,” Aaron says. 

“What are you doing?” 

“I’m talking to your sister.” 

Jack leans against the bed, fingers screwing in Aaron’s shirt unthinkingly. “You are?” 

“I read in my book today that she can maybe hear you when you talk to her,” you tell him. “Would you want to talk to her, bud?” 

“Can I?” 

“Sure. I don’t mind. I’d love for you to say hello, ‘cos how special is that? For the last few weeks, all she’s been able to hear is me. She doesn’t know she has a whole family waiting for her.” 

Aaron straightens and helps Jack climb onto the bed. He settles at the pillows with you, leaning down briefly to kiss you, lips misaligned but no less gentle. 

“What do I say?” Jack whispers, putting his hand carefully on your bump. 

“You can say anything you want,” you whisper back. “You can say hi, or you can tell her something. The best thing about babies is that we get to teach them about everything.” 

“Okay, um… well,” —he braces himself with two hands on your tummy and leans in— “you can’t see, but we have a dad with brown hair and brown eyes, and we have a super pretty mommy who smiles all the time at me…” Jack’s cheek tips toward his shoulder. “On Sunday they take me to the library and we stay there all morning. And for dinner we always have, um, one hand of vegetables and one hand of chicken, or pork, or pasta. But it’s okay if you can’t finish everything.” 

He looks at his father. “Is that okay?” he asks. 

Aaron offers his hand. “Buddy, that’s perfect. You can tell her anything that you want. She just wants to hear your voice.” 

“Can I tell her about teenage mutant ninja turtles?” 

You laugh. “Sure,” Aaron says. 

Jack starts to talk about Donatello. You try not to laugh as his little hands tickle you, turning your face into Aaron’s side. 

“I have so many things to say to you right now, but I’m worried it’s too saccharine,” he says. 

“Save them for later,” you say, hugging his waist. “Can I nap here? Would you rub my arm?” 

Aaron rubs your arm as you’ve asked. You fall asleep to the sound of your stepsons mumbled rambling and Aaron’s occasional breathy laugh. 

[kilojulietsierra]

Send Me An Angel - Chapter One (Dr Jack Abbot x NurseWife!OFC)

Summary: The darkness didn't just go away because he was home, especially after a night like that, but it did start to feel a little less heavy. Eventually.

TW: 18+ content, canon typical content warnings apply, mentions of suicide and characters making light of suicide because that just how they deal, some smut, established relationship, age gap but barely mentioned (yet) , dark thoughts, angst, some fluff, nobody you love dies ... barely proofread or edited. Y'all I came out of fanfic retirement for this grumpy asshole because I love him (and Robby) so be gentle

~~~~~~~~

7:40am

Jack opened the door between the house and garage and immediately smelled breakfast cooking. He dropped his backpack by the washer and dryer and stripped his shirt off over his head. "Babe!" He dug through his bag for his scrub top and kicked out of his shoes. "I'm home!" He pulled his ID badge off his pocket, slipped his silicone wedding band back on, then took out his extra pen light, three pens he didn't remember taking and the knife out of his other poket before he dropped his pants, pulled off his socks and shoved the whole pile into the hamper labeled 'work' before he picked up his bag and headed inside.

"Clean up and come eat!" She called back from the kitchen.

"Yes ma'am!" He walked down the short hall and ducked through a door to the master bedroom. He dumped his bag on the floor by the closet and went straight for the shower where he spun the knob as hot as it would go. By the time he stepped out of his boxer briefs and stared at himself in the mirror for a minute steam was rolling over the doors.

The water burned but he didn't touch the knob. For a long moment he didn't move, just let the water run over his head while he held his breath as long as he could. Once his head began to swim, his pulse pounding in his ears and his chest tight he stepped back and took a deep breath. The darkness didn't just go away because he was home, especially after a night like that, but it did start to feel a little less heavy. Eventually.

Once he scrubbed himself clean he put on a pair of sweats and a shirt to head out to the kitchen, which smelled like biscuits and homemade gravy. Sam was in front of the stove barefoot, in a pair of what must have been very short, shorts hiding under a baggy ARMY t-shirt he was pretty sure was his. She must have actually got off work on time.

He walked up behind her to wrap his arms around her, "Hey baby" Jack kissed the side of her neck and buried his face in her still damp hair so be could breathe in the smell of her eucalyptus shampoo and antibactial soap.

Her response was cut and dry as she stirred the contents of the pan, "Robby called."

"God damn it" He dropped his forehead down to her shoulder.

"Don't be mad, he's your best friend."

"Not right now he's not." Jack looked up and turned to lean his temple against the back of her head.

"You realize if you deep throat your pistol or yeet yourself off a building I don't get your benefits right?" She still hadn't looked at him.

"Yeet?"

She scoffed, "Avoidance. Nice. Yes, yeet, just a friendly reminder that I am, technically, younger than you and I could remarry if I had to."

He stroked over her ribcage, the material of the shirt well worn and smooth against the rough pad of his thumb. He kissed the crown of her head, "Do it for the money this time."

His wife leaned back into him with an annoyed sigh, "Please don't make me get married again, Jack."

After a long, deep breath Jack pressed another kiss to the back of her head, "I won't." A kiss to the side of her neck, longer and lingering this time. "You're makin' biscuits and gravy."

Finally, she turned around to face him and wrapped her arms around his neck, "Thought it might make you feel a little better." On her tip toes she pressed her lips to his once, and then a second time.

Jack hummed appreciatively as he kissed her back. He let his grip loosen on her enough to slide his hands down over her waist and her hips. He coaxed another, longer kiss from her as he moved to slip his hands under her shirt. He pulled up abruptly and groaned into her mouth as he touched bare skin. "You're not wearin' anything under here."

With a smile she nipped at his bottom lip, "Thought it might make you feel a little better."

With something between a chuckle and a groan he pressed his forehead down into hers. He kissed her again, with more intent this time, as he reached over to turn the stove burner off with one hand. He made her giggle as he picked her up by the waist and set her on the counter. His voice was quiet, rough as he spoke, "You're the only thing that could."

Sam let out a long, shaky breath as she pulled him closer and kissed him harder. "Don't ever leave me Jack, not like that."

His only answer was to nod and claim her mouth with his once more and drag her hips tight to his own.

"Promise me." She mumbled against his lips, her fingers tugging at the waisband of his sweats.

"Promise." He moved his kisses to the soft spot at the hinge of her jaw, and then lower, down her neck to her clavicle. When he felt her tremble slightly he smoothed his hands up her thighs and then moaned into the side of her neck as she wrapped her fingers around his cock. The fingers of her other hand were buried in the curls at the back of his neck and for a split second he couldn't imagine a life, or lack there of, without this in it, without her in it.

"Jack…" Sam's voice was breathy as she tugged at those curls, drawing him back to the present moment.

He moved back to kiss her, "I'm right here baby," Jack swept his tongue through her mouth and tugged her impossibly closer, "I'm right here." His hand pulled hers away from him, even that brief touch, the couple of minutes he'd had her in his arms, and he was already hard as a rock. As her hands moved to tug and pull at his tshirt he actually cracked a smirk, just a twitch of his lips as more of the darkness slipped away. Jack did as she wanted and stripped his shirt off before he went back to shove his sweats down just low enough to pull himself free. "Ready?" He asked the question with his lips against her ear and she shivered and nodded into his shoulder.

All the years they'd been together, the thousands of times they'd fucked, made love, fooled around, and every fucking time he slid his cock home it knocked the fucking air out of his chest. Her pussy was tight, hot and wet, already quivering around him and he finally felt alive again. Sam wrapped her legs around him tight, locked him in place and he grinned.

"God you feel so good, always feels so good." Her words snapped him out of his head again and sent a jolt straight to the base of his spine.

Suddenly alive, happy even, Jack reached to take her face in his hands and tip her up to look at him as he began to move. One slow thrust after another he kept his brown eyes locked on hers so bright and sunny, even after hearing her husband had been standing on the edge of a roof less than an hour ago. She didn't look away from him, not until his hips were snapping into hers hard enough for her eyes to roll back in there head. Her mouth open, filthy sounds falling from her lips as her fingers clutched at his forearms. "Look at me."

Her eyes flew open, bright but unfocused, and she held his gaze once again.

"Good girl," He let her see him smile this time, really smiled for the first time since he got home, and then he kissed her. Deep and sloppy and he hoped it showed her he was okay. Her legs tightened around his hips and her hands began to scramble over his arms, shoulders, his back. Still with that same smile he fucked her harder, dropped one hand down to the small of her back to hold her tight. "Go ahead, go ahead baby. I'm right here, I'm right here." The position pressed her against him just right and the sensation of her clit rubbing against him and the head of his cock hitting that perfect spot deep in side her made her gasp.

"Oh shi…God, Jack, shit!" and then every muscle in her long, lean little body seized tight and her nails dug into the back of his neck. The little bit of pain and the sensation of her falling apart around him dragged him over the edge. That falling sensation he had craved with every bone in his body finally coming to a realization. Except at the bottom of this fall, the cold hard ground was replaced by the feel of his wife's lips against his neck, her fingers twisting and toying with his curls still damp from the shower, and her happy little moan as her body relaxed against him.

He couldn't look at her just yet, so he pressed his face to the crown of her head and breathed her in as he wrapped her up tight. He couldn't pull away from her, not yet, and he hummed appreciatively as he felt her arms and legs wrap tighter around him. Jack didn't really think about how long they had stayed there, his dick going soft inside her, the mess they made. Eventually he sniffed and breathed in deep and whispered, "I love you."

Samantha, the love of his life, smiled against his neck and pressed a kiss against his slowing pulse, "Love you too."

The ding of the oven timer startled them both and after a second they broke into soft chuckles. Jack stood up straight and dropped his head back between his shoulder blades, the darkness gone, grumbling as Sam's teeth nipped over his corotid. "Biscuits are gonna burn if you don't let me go."

He grumbled again, face back in it's normal scowl, "Only 'cause I'm starving." He bent down to kiss her a final time before he finally, slowly, stepped away from her. One hand still on her thigh as he reached for a paper towel to clean up the mess they'd made so they could eat breakfast and go to bed.

5:43pm

When he woke up later that afternoon Samantha was still sound asleep beside him, her back to him, bare because they'd gone to bed after breakfast and made love, softer a slower than in the kitchen that morning. He turned onto his back to look at the alarm clock. He could go ahead and get up.

"Go back to sleep." Her voice was soft and raspy, barely awake, like she was trying to fight it.

Jack smirked to himself as he twisted back to kiss the back of her head before he slipped out of bed for the bathroom. He'd never slept well, even before the Army, before Afghanistan and Iraq, even before med school or the switch to nightshifts. On his way back from taking a leak he stopped by the dresser and flipped the switch on the scanner. He'd go back to bed, because she was there, but he doubted he'd sleep. He would have to get up soon anyway. At first there was silence, then the radio chatter picked up.

Back in bed his wife grumbled and pulled the blanket up tighter as she turned towards him. "Sleep okay?"

Jack stretched, arms over his head, and grimaced as his bad shoulder popped, "Slept fine." He laid one arm out and she immediately moved to his side and tucked herself in, twisting her head so she could press a kiss to the scar under his clavicle. "Close your eyes," He pressed a kiss to her forehead, "Go back to sleep." She didn't have to work tonight and he didn't want to ruin her night off. His own eyes slipped closed as he stroked his fingers up and down her arm. He focused on each of her breaths as they ghosted over his chest while he listened to the static and clicks as mics were keyed on and off, officers called in traffic stops, dispatch relayed reports from callers.

When he'd come back from his last deployment and they were finally able to live together longer than a few months at a time, Jack had been shocked how quiet everything was. Even in base housing, there was silence. Sam told him him he'd acclimate, he'd get used to it. She said she listened to podcasts, audiobooks, something to drown out the silence. No jets or C130s screaming ovehead and howling on the tarmac, no chop from blackhawks or chinooks at all hours of the night, no yelling, fighting or roughhousing on the other side of plywood walls.

He hadn't acclimated.

Audiobooks didn't help, he'd lay awake all night because he needed to know how it ended. Podcasts just annoyed him, even the true crime ones she seemed to favor and somehow was able to fall asleep to within the first ten minutes. It wasn't until they'd moved off base that she'd thought of it while they unpacked the den. Sam had pulled out the radio and charging dock, the one they had 'just in case', turning the knob to see if it still worked and it had. So, they'd listened as they unpacked. "Maybe this would help you sleep." She'd been right.

For a moment, with the radio chatter, the blackout curtains and her pressed close against him he thought he might fall back asleep.

A series of chirps followed by long, highpitched tone sounded through the room followed by, "Shots fired, shots fired! All units…" the unmistakable sounds of rifle rounds popped and crackled over the speaker, "Shots fired!" Screaming, distant and garbled. Louder pops, closer, the officers handgun as it rang out. He or a partner maybe as they returned fire. Bang, bang, pause, bang,bang, "We need units now, we have an active shooter at Pitt…" The thirty second emergency call cut short and then the radio chatter exploded with answering officers and dispatchers.

Jack had sat up straight, Sam did the same beside him. Together they listened. Sam combed one hand through her hair as they waited.

Pittfest.

"Jesus," Sam looked at her husband, "That'll go to you guys."

Jack was already out of bed and pulling on underwear, before Sam could finish her sentence.

Less than 10 minutes later Sam met him at the garage door wearing just a hoodie and holding a shaker bottle. "Take this." She shoved it at him as he grabbed his truck keys. "And call me. Anything, just call me."

Jack ignored the protein shake for the moment instead sinking his free hand into her mess of dirty blonde hair and pulling her into him for a kiss. When they finally pulled apart he looked her dead in the eyes. "I love you."

She didn't blink, didn't breath as she pressed a hand over the center of his chest, over his steady beating heart. "I love you."

Then he grabbed the protein shake, gave her one last kiss and climbed into his truck.

6:11pm

Jack wouldn't ever say it out loud, except maybe to Sam, but he lived for this. This, the blood, the gore, the fear and the chaos, the critical thinking all of it, this is what he'd been put to do. This was easy, this was routine. He felt alive.

"Where's Collins?"

"I need a chest tube!"

"How the hell are we out of chest tubes!"

"O pos! I need a bag of O pos over here!

"I need help with an airway!"

"Someone get me more O Neg!"

Robby appeared at his side as they worked together the slow the blood pouring out of an adomen. "Depot is running low."

Jack spared a quick glance around him, "Where are we on resupply?"

"Gloria says she's working on it."

"How long?"

Robby laughed in that self-deprecating way ER doctors specialize in, "Your guess is as good as mine. She says she's working on it."

"Fuck that." Jack mumbled as he stood up straight, "Bag him." He ripped his gloves off and dug his phone out of his pocket. God bless FirstNet, he had signal and when he hit send the call went through. "Yeah, I'm fine. Need a favor."

6:32pm

The Ambulance bay doors hissed open. Robby looked up, "Ohhh, you are the prettiest thing i've seen all day!"

Jack glanced to the side, "Back off Robinavitch, I saw her first."

Sam dodged gurneys as she approached. A duffle bag in each hand and a backpack. "I come bearing gifts!" She made a beeline for the nurses station and Dana.

"Sweetie, please tell me you didn't just pick the worst possible time for a visit?" Dana met her arms wide open.

The duffle bags dropped on the counter with a thud and Sam shrugged out of her backpack so she could return Dana's hug. "Courtesy of Pittsburg VA Medical Center." Sam unzipped one bag and then the other, "I've got chest tubes, I've got cath tubes, some of this tubing I'm not even sure what the fuck it's for, and as many bags and adapters as I could take. i've got CAT tourniquets, SOF turniquests, some surgical turniquets, hemostatic dressings, suture kits, a shit ton of gauze and tape. There's chest seals in that one and abdominal trauma kits if shit gets real western," She turned to Dana as she whipped her long ponytail up into a quick and well practiced bun, "and this," she dug in the pocket of her scrub pants and handed over a piece of paper, "Is a list of people ready and waiting to come if you need them."

For a second it looked like Dana might cry as she glanced down at the list of names and phone numbers written in all different handwriting, mismatched inks, marker, pencil. It looked like they'd all used whatever they had handy at the time. She looked up at Sam and smiled, "You're an angel. Have I told you lately that I love you?" She wrapped her up in another hug.

"Yes, but it never gets old." Sam squeezed her back. "Now, I slammed a Monster on the way here so put me to work."

Dana smiled, "Put those in behavioral, that's supply, then gown up and pick a body." she paused, "i'm glad you're here."

On her way by her husband he called out to Dana, "Tap her, she's O-Neg!"

Sam gave him a look, "What, am I just a blood bank to you?" She gave Robby a wink as she passed him.

Jack called after her, "Love you."

"You better!"

Jack and Robby exchanged a look over a patient, "She's still pissed about this morning. Thanks for that by the way."

"What are best friends for?"

With a scoff Jack stood up, "This one can go up. Bring me another red!" then turned back to Robby, "I don't have a best friend."

Robby laughed and got back to work.

Jack took a deep breath, stole a glance at his wife already helping Samira place an airway on a gunshot victim, and nodded to himself. He remembered why now. He remembered why he kept coming back. For the time being anyway.

3:58 am

The only reason Jack didn't jump, flinch or even move when he felt a hand rest on the back of his head was because he'd recognize that touch anywhere. He groaned, but did not look up from where he sat with his elbows braced on his knees and his head hanging low. Her fingers carded through his curls and she scratched her nails over his scalp in the way that he loved so fucking much. Blindly, with one hand, he grabbed the back of her knee and tugged her closer so he could rest his forehead against her stomach.

Long minutes passed while she played with his hair and he didn't realize the death grip he still had on the back of her leg until his fingers began to cramp. Jack relaxed his hold on her, but didn't let her go. DIdn't want to risk her stopping or stepping away.

"You want some of my coffee?" Her voice was so gentle, but loud in the darkness.

His gaze fell on her shoes, smeared with blood. He sat up straighter, tipped his head back to look at her. "Sure."

She handed him the cup of shitty, hospital coffee and he sipped it. Black. She must be exhausted.

"Hey," she moved her hand down to the back of his neck but continued to scratch her nails over his skin. When he met her gaze, she gave him a soft smile, "Think you should go check on Robby."

He took another sip of her coffee and rubbed his hand up and down the back ofher thigh, trying to ignore the feel of the dried, caked blood, "Where is he?"

Her pretty green eyes blinked and she nodded, fighting back tears. "GIve you one guess."

~~~~~~

Chapter Two

Hope y'all enjoyed. I love these two and have some back story that might see daylight soon so keep an eye out for that.

Also, if you saw the poll I posted yesterday you'll know that I have a second story idea that I'm working on that more focused on Jack and Robby and their not friends friendship, Sam Abbot features heavily in that one and spoiler, she has a cute nurse friend (reader) that she wants to set Robby up with!

[lovelybluebirdie]

Something to care for

Astarion x f!Reader

Summary: Astarion seeks comfort when he is terrified of losing you to his former master.

Word Count: 2,1k

hurt/comfort, angst and fluff

[ AO3 ]

Fleeting glances across the tavern, jovial laughter followed by a touch to his arm, and Astarion has exactly what he needs. Your trust builds fast over his charming words, so you agree to accompany him to the mansion without doubting his intentions. 

Astarion dissociates, follows his usual routine as he has done for over hundreds of years by now, while you remain blissfully unaware that you are already caught in his trap.

The scene feels painfully familiar, and yet it doesn't at all.

Uneasiness spreads over him. 

No, this doesn't seem right. 

Why are you here?

The next moment you lie on his old master’s bed, your eyes closed and shallow breaths emitting your lungs. A dark silhouette is bending over you, its mouth glued to your neck. 

Cazador.

Panic creeps down Astarion's spine.

No, this isn't right at all.

His thoughts start to race. He needs to free you from this monster's claws - now.

Cazador looks up as his lips form a hideous grin, blood running from his chin and spluttering on your motionless body.

“A very pleasant bouquet you have brought to me, boy. But you know of that already, do you not?”

Astarion freezes.

The malice in his voice shatters his ribs with the blow of an axe.

He wants to scream, to get you away from here, but his body doesn’t respond. 

Suddenly the whole scene shifts and Astarion finds himself with his fangs buried deep inside your neck, warm liquid pouring in his mouth while your hand rests loosely on his nape. 

An unbearable dread rises in him.

He desperately tries to tear himself away, to stop feeding on you, but an invisible force holds him down, leaving it impossible to let go. 

He must be going mad.

“You sought out to drink from thinking creatures, did you not? Go on then, lavish yourself on her blood! Bleed her dry.”

Cazador’s command unleashes like a fist to his skull.

Astarion knows that he is enjoying this, and it makes him sick. 

He concentrates back on you, frantically looking for a way to get you out of this. 

“It's alright, Astarion…” you whisper. “I know this isn’t… you.” You seem on the verge of fainting, the hand that rested in his hair slipping, your pulse weakening.

The fondness in your words almost breaks him.

He wishes to plead, to offer himself - to give Cazador everything he demands, if only he would allow you to leave unharmed, but he can’t speak.

Instead, he feels Cazador’s violent grip push him down, ramming his teeth deeper in your neck.

Astarion’s eyes wet and his body trembles while he’s obliged to swallow more of your blood. The thick liquid spills over his lips onto your neck, drips to your hair and paints the collar of your blouse.

Astarion knows that he’s hurting you, killing you, yet he has no control over his own doing. He can't stop, even if his whole body longs for nothing more than to release you.

His senses start to dull, colourful dots exploding before his eyes, while he’s unable to form a single coherent thought anymore, entirely helpless to this monstrosity he inflicts on you.

“What’s the matter, boy?” his former master taunts with a malignant chuckle and positions himself so that Astarion has to look at him. “Isn’t this what you craved? To be free of me, to do as you please?"

His laugh evolves to a gruesome crescendo, echoing through the dreary halls that Astarion once called his home - mocking him, a punishment for his disobedience.  

Astarion summons his remaining strength to banish Cazador from his mind and fixates back on you. 

He must save you, now, otherwise you will -

*

Astarion's lungs are on fire. His fangs ache, and his chest is bursting.

He grasps his throat and chokes as he remembers the taste of your blood in his mouth. 

Gods, what has he done to you?

He takes a moment to perceive his surroundings.

This is not Cazador’s mansion, he realises, but your shared tent in the camp you made near Rivington.

The essence of his nightmare returns with agony: his fangs piercing your neck, Cazador’s order to bleed you dry, while you were completely defenceless against his torment. The image is almost too much to bear.

With haste, he begins to fumble the woollen fabric of his bedroll in search of your warm body. He has to ensure that you are alive - that he didn’t hurt you.

Then his hand finds your wrist and he stops in his motion. He pushes the fright that shrouds him aside and feels for your pulse, careful not to wake you. There it is - a constant throb at his fingertips. 

Despite the evidence that the violent scene was nothing more than a figment of his imagination, he can’t bring himself to fully accept that there wasn’t an actual threat - that you are safe. Yet he has no desire to worry you with his musings, so he starts to slowly pull his hand away, before he notices that it’s already too late. You sit up beside him, rubbing sleep from your tired eyes. 

You look so adorable that his chest grows tight. 

“Astarion? Are you alright?” Your brow furrows when your gaze meets his, concern lingers in your voice.

Astarion opens his mouth, only to press it shut again as he feels hot tears forming in his eyes. He swallows hard. He wants to reassure you that it’s nothing, to tell you that you should go back to sleep, but the ferocity he committed in his nightmare robs him of any speech. 

You give him an understanding expression and lift your blanket. “Do you want to come over here?”

He nods and shifts towards you.

You wrap your arms around him and pull him into a tight embrace. Astarion sinks his head onto your chest and listens carefully to your heartbeat - to make sure you are truly unscathed. That he didn't kill you, didn't bleed you dry - that he has not become like Cazador.

The pulsing sound flows in a soothing rhythm. 

He closes his eyes and inhales your familiar scent. The weight that is crushing his lungs slowly begins to dissolve. 

You are so warm, he thinks, so comforting, always so affectionate.

“It’s alright,” you breathe and rest your lips at his temple. “He can’t hurt you now.”

There is no need to ask how you know what haunts him, you simply do, and Astarion buries his face deeper in your chest, grasps the fabric of your tunic and lets out a deep sigh. A few silent tears he has tried to hold back spill from his eyes, dampening your clothes.

Your hands draw circles on the small of his back, up to his shoulder blades, until they move to his hair and tenderly stroke along his ears. 

He concentrates on your touch. You are here, with him, unharmed - he didn’t hurt you.

A calmness enfolds and for the first time since he woke he allows himself to relax. 

Astarion suddenly wonders if he ever had something like a home, a real home, somewhere he felt safe - not Cazador’s mansion, the place from his nightmare, where he endured nothing but torture and cruelty.

Something he could choose for himself - willingly. Not something he was forced to, but something he wanted.

For centuries he was used to the pain he suffered under Cazador’s rule, but you've proven how different his life can be. Through the time he spends with you, he's learned that he is valued as a person. You make him feel seen - show him compassion and patience, despite him missing the words at times. 

You give him honest, loving affection, without any vile intent or in expectation of getting something in return. 

You are the only one who is like that. Who genuinely cares for him, who loves him. No one was ever kind to him, only you. No one has a heart like that.

Maybe a home isn’t a place, he thinks, but a person. 

He feels your fingers twisting gently around his curls, while he listens to the sound of your beating heart, and wishes to never let go of you. 

But there is still Cazador and the Rite of Profane Ascension to overcome, and his mansion is barely a tenday away from now. 

Astarion wants to shove the thought aside, but knows he can’t. Not when there is so much at stake - when you give him so much to care for. 

He envisions the ancient ritual Cazador has planned. 

If he was to complete the rite himself, would he become even more powerful than his old master? Would this newfound power offer you protection - keep both of you safe? 

But what if you came to harm once you entered his residence? Hells, what if it would be his fault?

The fear of losing you clings its relentless hooks back to his core.

Astarion sinks deeper into your arms and sighs.

No. He cannot lose you - not to the Absolute, not to Cazador or any other madness you have to encounter along your way.

His shoulders tense, leading you to squeeze them fondly.

“He won’t win, Astarion,'' you vow with the determination that Astarion knows too well by now. “We will beat him.”

At first he wants to scold you, point out how naive you were to think it would be an easy task to confront his past tormentor, but instead he pauses to consider. 

He remembers the foes you've come across on your journey. There have been gruesome, vigorous creatures among them, and yet you were able to vanquish them in the end.

Have you gathered enough strength to destroy a powerful enemy like Cazador, though?

For a second, Cazador’s liveless body appears in front of Astarion’s inner eye. 

Maybe, there was a real chance…

After all, to ensure that both of you will be safe - truly safe - Cazador must be ended, one way or another. 

“Is that so?” Astarion clears his throat and frowns. “Well, when you sound so resolute I find myself actually imagining us succeeding.”

Your features soften as you lean forward and put a kiss to his brow.

“I know we will,” you reply confidently. “Besides, for some reason I was declared the leader of our little group, so I'd suggest you better put some trust in my word.”

“I’m afraid being the leader of this group full of weirdos is hardly something to be proud of, love,” Astarion murmurs against your neck.

“That’s rich, coming from the weirdest of the bunch,” you tease as you tousle through his curls. “You’re a rogue who’s terrified of clowns - shall I go on?” 

Astarion snorts at your remark. “I'm not terrified of them!” he protests with a pout. “It's just.. They make me uneasy, alright? And they're not original - or funny. Honestly, I’d rather witness a goblin mating ritual than any of those wretched clown shows again.”

He removes your hand from his hair to intertwine your fingers with his. Then he recalls the image of the clown you visited at the circus the other day and his face turns into a grimace.

“Keep telling yourself that, but I know for a fact that you were absolutely petrified the moment you saw Dribbles.”

“That wasn’t even a regular clown - that beast was also a shapeshifter!” Astarion exclaims in feigned bewilderment.

You raise an eyebrow and wait for a moment, leaving Astarion curious, until you pin him down to tickle him all over.

“Stop it, you cheeky thing!” Astarion presses between his laughs while he tries to shelter his most sensitive parts from your ruthless fingers.

When he eventually manages to roll on top of you and grab your wrists, you look at him lovingly and catch your breath. He feels the remaining knots in his chest come loose.

Then your face turns serious again. “I promise you, we will beat him.”

“Stubborn as ever,” Astarion states and clicks his tongue, before his lips curl up to a genuine smile. “But perhaps I’ll remind you of that promise when the time comes.”

“By all means, I hope you do,” you assure and return his smile, your thumb softly brushing his cheek. 

You have a rare talent to relieve the tension, he notices. To make him feel light - to make him laugh even, a real, honest laugh, despite the horrors that linger on his mind of late. 

Astarion kisses the tip of your nose and lifts from your chest, resting his body against your back and draws you in a close embrace. Then he buries his face in your hair and presses a kiss to your neck, relishing your pleasant warmth. 

A sudden fire rises inside him.

The thought of facing Cazador remains scary, terrifying even, but somehow with you, he senses there is a viable chance to defeat him at last.

You give him something to care for, and he will do everything in his might to protect you - both of you, his home.

He won’t lose you, and he won’t lose this.

Masterlist

[whambambatfam]

Webs of a Wing

Chapter 3

It's scrunkly time.

I hope you guys like it, I wasn't so sure about this one. T∆T

Reader ages 12 - 15

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Not long after Grayson's departure from the manor... He came along, Jason Todd.

Coming in, rough around the edges, and bringing joy to the hollow halls. Ones you've roamed like a ghost on your own for years. He's got more adolescent defiance than your whole clique put together. The type of energy that shook up the old bones of this old house and awakened hope in your heart once again.

This was the kid's first time having a solid roof over his head, warm bed to sleep in, decent food to eat and people to worry about him, a real home. Unlike Bruce, who couldn't come to terms with your relations or Dick, who felt threatened by it. Jason was loud and clear in his intentions, he wanted to make the most of his new family. Including you.

A boy with black hair, blue eyes, and a stocky build for a twelve year old stands besides Alfred. “Master Jason will be living with us in the manor. He'll be a brother of sorts to you, just as Master Dick.” but you didn't want this to be like your and Dick's unstable relationship.

Alfred smiled at the determination set on your face as you gave him your name, “It's nice to meet you.” your hand quickly outstretched to the boy, “Uh, I hope.. we can be.. friends?”

Jason's face lights up your offer, taking your hand in his, “Yeah, friends. ‘Never had a sibling before.” Tugging you closer, his hand in yours pulls you along, “Come on, show me around.”

From then on, your days spent with only Alfred for company had a new, refreshing addition. 

Alfred has allowed the two of you to start cooking your own breakfast unsupervised. Given that you don't burn the kitchen down. “How many times have you done this?” Jason huffs as he picks egg shells from the bowl he's whisking. They slip through the tongs of the fork as he scrapes them along the side.

Pouring your egg mixture into the frying pan, you smile teasingly at him. “Only a few.” You take the bowl from his frustrated hands, “Try this, it might be more your speed.”

He accepts the wrapped loaf of bread with a scowl. Pulling out the toaster with a grumble, “I'm not an idiot, I know how to fend for myself.” 

“I never said you were. I've seen you do all kinds of stuff.” You move to the sink, wetting your fingers to pluck the last bits from the bowl. “

Jason turns away, stuffing four slices into the double toaster. “So it's just cooking that i suck at?” He drops his head on the counter, arms crossing as he grumbles.

Returning to the stove, you move your own cooking egg to the side. “No! You're the best at, like, everything you do.” Tipping the contents into the pan it sizzles to life again. “A few shells won't change that.”

There's pink clinging to his ears at your praise, “I'm not good at everything..”

“Oh my- obviously!”

“What!?” Sputtering, he whips his head around.

“It's bruning!” Yanking the plug from the toaster, the blackened squares pop up together. Three out of the four of them come out half charred. 

“Tha-that doesn't count.” The heat creeping up his neck flushes his face. “You distracted me!” 

“Uhuh, yeah.” You slide the omelet onto a plate for Jason as he replaces the burnt bread. “Your eggs are done.”

Jason is quick to deflect the old butler's inquiries on the smell of burnt bread. You'd hate to have your kitchen privileges revoked. When you offer to teach him how to crack eggs and use the toaster, he tells you to shut up with an obscured smile.

You were happy. Even when the newest boy wonder was busy training his nights away with the Bat. Talking about Bruce, spending time with him, connecting with him like you never could. Even when Dick started to hang around again. Coming to the manor, eventually joining the occasional patrol. Now Nightwing, protector of Blüd Haven. Brand new spandex, stupid big collar, and everything.

It didn't hurt to see him appear to come around slowly to his successor. Eventually accepting his replacement with relative ease. When you would always just be a thorn in his side, locked in a one-sided fight for first.

"You know how to fight, right?" The two of you were sitting outside. It was as muggy as Gotham usually is but it felt nice to be out.

He snorts, tossing a stone hard across the water. "Of course. Can't get by on the streets without." The small rock hops only twice before sinking.

Swiping a smooth stone from the shoreline, you run your finger along it, inspecting each divet and groove. "Can you.. teach me?" 

Sure, you were trained in martial arts but, being on the mat differs from being on the street. While your work in Gymnastics has helped you slip through and run when need be. You knew you might have to fight back one day. Maybe you wanted to.

There's a huff of exasperation behind you "Yeah, no, not happening." 

Dick Grayson's approach was silent until he wanted you to know he was there. Arms crossed and face already set in an unimpressed look.

“What?!" Jason jumps to his feet, making his way swiftly over, "I could totally do it!" 

"Then what?" With a raise of his brow, he scoffs, "Get grounded forever?" 

"It's not like I'm gonna take them-" Dick cuts him off with a raised hand.

"Stop, Jay. You're only going to get the both of you in trouble." The older siblings' hands make their way to his hips.

Tossing your rock across a water's surface, it skips along three times before sinking. “I'm not exactly new to it.”

You're almost surprised when Dick actually responds. "I'm sorry, kid. Bruce isn't going to be happy about it either.” 

As if he would even notice. "You wouldn't have to be so.. worried if I could be taught to defend myself.” Sighing in irritation, you turn your gaze back to the water.

“You don't need to, we can protect you just fine." Dick steps up behind you, patting your head. The contact catches your breath painfully and you have to fight the urge to swat it away. "And if you really don't want anyone to worry. Stay home. Stay safe." Stay out of the way. 

When he finally leaves, you feel like you can breathe again. Jason's abrupt grasp pulls your attention back to him, "Dickie and the old man can blow smoke." His grin was brighter than the sun, his hand clasping yours as he pulled you to your feet, "Let's go."

You can't fight the pull at your own lips, feet stumbling to catch up to his sudden pace. "Right behind you."

No, it didn't hurt. Because you won't let it, because, despite it all, he always came back to you. 

After packing your schedule with martial arts training Mondays and Wednesday before stitch work and knitting circle with Alfred. Gwen decides to join your gymnastics, her studies leaving her sitting at a desk too long. Tuesdays you drag both girls to self defense classes, you've seen enough shit go down with the birds. Also, it's Gotham, they should be better equipped to handle themselves. Your photos with Mj for the paper is due Thursday morning in time for the paper to come out on Friday. That leaves the weekend up for grabs. This one in particular was claimed by both your friends and brother.

“Whatcha readin’?” 

Jason jolts in his seat, slapping his hand over his mouth to subjugate any embarrassing noises. With a bark of your name he whips around to find you snickering over his shoulder. 

Cerulean eyes narrow as he grumbles at you. “How do you do that.. it's unnatural.” 

It was unnatural to he who trains under the Bat. You used to hate being unintentionally sneaking. Mj and Gwen can pick you out of a crowd of clones, there's no way you could sneak up on either of them. But, other people? Shrieking when they finally realized you were in the same room as them. That only made you feel even more invisible, and not in the ways you wanted.

You scoff, “That's dramatic.” Now, with Jason, you can finally get a laugh from it. Settling down on the couch beside him, you recognize the book in his hand, “Hey, that's one of mine!”

Swiping it away before you have the chance to snatch it, “Ha! Shouldn't have left it out.” he lifts the novella over his head, tongue stuck out at you.

“It was in my room, on my bed.” You huff, jumping for it as he stands, holding it over your head. 

“Yeah, it was, wasn't it?” Jason smirks, waving the book just out of reach, “Y'know, you actually have taste. Sometimes.”

“Give it back!" Grabbing his forearm you try pulling it down but do better at lifting yourself off the ground.

"I'm almost done." He chuckles into his fist at your frantic cat like swiping.

"Wow. So, this is the totally cool brother you've been talking about?” At the sound of a new voice, he snaps his attention to Mj. Arms crossed as she leaned against the archway to the living room.

“Dunno.. Sounds like a bully to me.” Gwen chimes in coming up besides her. She mirrors Mjs stance, doubling the judgemental

The book falls from Jason's hands and you catch it. Tucking it away safely under your arm.“Wha- uh, no! I am totally cool, ask them!” Jason whips around to hiss at you, face flushed with mortification, “Why didn't you tell me you were bringing your friends over?”

You roll your eyes, “I did. That's, like, the one thing we talked about before school this morning.” You can just barely hear the strained ‘Oooooh, right.’ as he mumbled something about a long night under his breath. Of course, he tries to make a ‘smooth’ recovery only to be blasted by your friends. You do, eventually, come to his defense.

It's nice to bring these two sides of yourself together like this. Jason may make an ass of himself but at least he knows how to not lose face completely. It makes you proud when, at the end of their stay, they sing his praises. Insisting on involving him again in their next visit to the manor. 

He came home, he sought you out, he wanted that connection you craved. The one thing you wanted, for one of them to look away from the stage of their busy lives and find you there. Waiting at home, creating that solace from a bustling world beyond these solid walls.

Creeping your door shut, you slide the lock closed. Having someone walk in on you was never a worry before. Now, whether it be doing homework together, exchanging books, deciding anything, general complaining and gossip, avoiding chores, especially hiding from Bruce and occasionally just to annoy you. Your brother struts in whenever the whim strikes him. The prick.. Shuffling to the bed, you land on it heavily alongside your bookbag. Books, pencils, and such escape their confines, your camera ferried out on top of the pile.

With a stretch and sigh, you get ready to nip pick. Three folders, each with a plethora of candids, articles, and notes. One in particular is becoming just a smidge overcrowded. Threatening to spill its contents every time it's jostled a bit too much.

What can you say? Your brother serves more than just justice in that cute lil Robin suit, and his action shots are the best. The guy is out there having fun and it shows. Your friends even agree when you can't help gushing over your late night photography sessions.

Well, after calling you crazy for going out at night in this city. Especially, with how close to the fighting you had obviously gotten. It may have taken a while to convince them that you weren't going to get yourself caught up in the middle of a Riddler maze or Two-face shoot out.

Deciding which should go in and which should come out is always a tedious process. The one with better exposure or with neater composition? You've already got a shot of him perched on that same gargoyle but, this one's a year old now. Maybe you could keep both, like a comparison, but you couldn't possibly.. maybe.. Then you'd go over your count and need to tosse another and you'd have to pick which and-Your cell rings. 

Lost in thought, the noise makes you jump like a cat at the loud sound. Swiping the noisy thing off the sheets, you answer with a huff.

“Heyyyy.. Sorry, I can't make it tonight..” Jason's voice came through the phone with tight regret, “I've got, uh... something came up. Tomorrow, I promise.”

It was a phrase you've heard before, more times to count. They'd use such weak excuses, only for tomorrow to never come. There was no later.

“Yeah, it's okay Jay.” The response was automatic, coming without a thought. How could you deny their call to action? There were always going to be things more important. “I get it. Just.. be safe, okay?”

“Of course, not like I'm doing anything crazy. I'll be with Bruce, we're fine.”

So, it didn't hurt that he tried keeping you in the dark like they did. You knew his concern was real, his care genuine. At least you want to know that he meant it, that he wasn't trying to push you aside. You'd just have to trust him.

“Up there! It's Batman!” A young boy yelps and tugs at his mother's arm, finger raised to the sky.

Eyes cast upwards, you watch as they jump from one building to the next. Capes billowing in the wind behind them. Following close, you run along sidewalks and duck through alleyways to keep up.

Pulling your camera up, you snap shots of Robin as he leaps off a rooftop. Capturing him mid-air, bright yellow fluttering behind him. The domino hardly masking his face of sheer joy paired with intense focus. His were always your favorite, filling his folder was easy. You wish you could show him some of the pictures you have of him. Maybe someday the two of you could go through it together. Would he find it creepy? Hopefully not...

You would never dare voice it but, you were envious of them. When they took to the soggy Gotham skies, gliding with ease above it all. Mouth hung agape, you watched the wind blowing through Jason's hair, and Dick with his flips and twirls. Even Bruce, using his cape to glide alongside them.

Well, maybe you told- “Alfred!” Your ride’s here and your mad dash through the city has been cut short.

“Crime alley is no place for an upstanding teen.” He tuts with a smile as you reach the car. Always a pinch of sugar with his scolding, “Come along, let's get home.”

Hopping in beside him, you can't keep your eyes off the stars. “I want to fly like them one day...” With a hum, He drives you two back to the manor.

Life is feeling better by the day. It's as if everythings clicked into place. The years you get with him are the most whole you feel. The only real sense of normalcy throughout your youth.

That night, he was home late despite not being on patrol. You overheard, well eavesdropped, that Jason was put off duty. Still he was out on his own, positively pissed, and came home after dark. Heading straight to his room, he brushes off Alfred, insisting on being left alone.

You can't help finding yourself standing anxiously at his door anyway. It didn't feel right, letting him fester in his anger alone. Knocking yields no results but, calling out his name softly earns you the same in return.

Opening the door slowly you peek in to see him, sitting on his bed with a box. His face is grim but he waves you in, motioning for you to sit with him. You do, placing yourself at the foot of his bed. Across from him with a box of papers and photos between you. Jason fiddles with an old looking photo, scanning it over and over. 

"I know you don't like talking about it, but," He swallows thickly before his eyes can meet yours pensively. "You, um, got a mom, right?"

It feels like the wind’s been knocked out of you. Yeah, you didn't like to talk about it, let alone think about it. "I guess, technically." You shrug it off the best you can, "I mean, ya know, everyone's gotta come from somewhere."

He rolls his eyes, dropping the picture back into the cardboard. "Yeah, no shit, that's not what I'm saying."

Really? You came to check in on him. Now you’re being snipped at over something he knows you're sensitive about. "Well, then, I don't want to know if your just-" Before you can fully lift yourself off the bed, he's gripping your wrist.

"Wait! I'm sorry, don't go!" His fingers tremble around his hold on you. He tries not to squeeze you too tightly while still keeping you close. "I-I just.." His other hand grips the box enough to crumple the cardboard under it.

"Jay..." You sigh, this unusual distress from your brother making giving in easier "I don't know. Maybe before but, I don't remember back then." Just nightmares of things you couldn't grip the memory of fully. Thinking of your mother and what she may have gone through with you? Only if it could help with whatever's eating at him, "I can't remember anything before being here. Blurry faces, locations I can't place. I didn't even know what her name was. Can't remember her face.."

When you sit back down he finally releases you. A hand runs through black curled, "I shouldn't have asked. Sorry if it's..."

"No, it's whatever. Who cares? Just..." You shrug, looking over the darkening Gotham sky, "Must not have been anything good." Fingers twist into the sheet below you in unease.

It did hurt though, every question slipping through your finger never to be answered. Flitting past your mind painfully when you linger too long on the past.

Your eyes are drawn back to Jason as he pulls a paper from the box. "I got some stuff earlier and..." He shows you old documents and photos that he was given by an old neighbor. You recognized the little Jason with, from what you're told, his father and stepmother. 

His explanation paused as you cooed at his baby face, which he does not appreciate. So, the woman who raised him, who passed, wasn't the same as his birth mother, who's alive. "I think I can find her but I don't know how long it'll take. I"

"That's," Blinking a few times at plie of evidence towards his childhood, you look back at him. "alot, but I'm sure if anyone could do it, that's you."

"You're not gonna.. try to talk me out of it?"

"Would you listen?" You raise a brow at him, his shoulders shoot up in turn, guilt evident. "Exactly." With a smirk you help him pack away everything. His face still knit pensively even after he sets the box aside, you scan the partly packed suitcase. It starts to feel too real but you know there's no helping it. So, you offer him all you can, taking his hand in yours, "Look, I don't know where you're going or what you're doing exactly but,” You squeeze his fingers and he returns it, “I trust you and I'll always be here for you."

Jason pulls your connected hand, rigging you into a tight embrace. "Thanks." His chuckle waivers against your shoulder, arms constricting around your midsection.

You repay his embrace in kind, forgiving the crushing weight of his hug as you blink away tears. "Just, please, stay safe. Okay?"

"Of course, look at who you're talking to, I'm the definition of cautious." He pulls away enough to give you a winning grin and you return it with your hardest 'You're joking, right?' face. "Alright, fine. I'll be careful. I'll be safe. Promise.”

“So, how are you getting there?" You sit crossed legs on his beds as he packs his bag. Chin resting on your palms you tilt your head as his rifles around his pocket.

“These!” He presents her a literal handful of credit cards. "I'll be flying, first class, duh” he notices your dropped jaw. "Please don't tell Alfred..." 

Teeth snapping shut, hands dropping to your lap, you blink at his little card haul, “Jason," you sighed, exasperated, “Where are you going?"

“The.. middle east?” Chuckling nervously as he stuffs them away, he watches the concern grow on your face at just how far he would be going.

“Your- Please, if you listen to anything I say. Jason.” You grab his shoulders, setting him with your sternest look “Do not die.”

“Oh my- Seriously?!" Rolling his eyes he shrugs your hands off, “I'm not gonna die!"

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[z4rph1m]

Platonic Yan!batfam X dazai!reader X yandere dc

Tw: implication of sex (between reader & Chuuya), past mentions of self harm,

Forgotten child

Pro. Ch.1 Ch.2 (you are here) Ch.3

Nakahara Chuuya

Your former lover of the dark.

Why did the two of you broke up? He forgot, or maybe he just doesn’t want to remember.

He knew that the moment the two of you were in a relationship, it was unhealthy and toxic.

Maybe it’s the way you would ignore him the whole day but the moment you’re within his arms you’re a touch starve, hopelessly in love mess.

Or maybe the way he would be angry at you and try to guilt trip you into doing whatever he wants or the way you would purposely annoy him so that he would try and hurt you (he tried ask you to stop doing that)

But why exactly did the two of you stay together?

It’s simple, you two completed eachother perfectly.

Especially how fitting your abilities names are to describe the two of you.

You made him act like a human, he gave you a reason to live on.

“Are you the most beautiful human to me or to me, you’re the most beautiful human”

You stare at the empty space of your bed in longing, feeling as if there was something missing in your life.

The love marks surrounding your body, the lipstick mark on your bandages and the soft touches lingers around you.

Oh how you miss him.

You knew well that being with him was a terrible idea, especially with how aware you are to how much of a terrible person you are.

You know well you’re only using him to have the willingness to live yet the more you are with him, the more you crave for his touch.

That’s the reason why you broke up with him.

You hated how it felt, how it didn’t felt real to you. You wanted to save him the tears and pain, breaking off was maybe your only choice.

You remember well on how soft his kisses are on your scars, lips and all over your body.

Or how beautiful yours and his voice sounded together.

Maybe, just maybe under different circumstances the two of you could be together.

As much as you two stayed friends, the benefits can’t really be pass on.

“If you can’t feel love, I will give you the love that you lack your whole life”

The more time Bruce walk through the hallway to your room, the more sense of guilt cover him.

Wilting flowers, spiders in cobwebs, empty vases and dust covering the paintings.

The side of the mansion that’s long been abandoned.

God how long did he let you live like this?

How long did he left you to live within the chilly and ghostly halls of the manor?

On the way to your room, the two passed by Dick and Tim, who seemingly curious on where they’re going.

“Hey Alfred, Bruce, where you’re going?” Dick in all his glory, having his usual smile while Tim with his eye bags and energy drink in his hand.

“We’re on our way to Master [N] room, which is just at the corner of this hallway”

There was a deafening silence, but at the same time it was accompanied by a presence of a lonely child.

The presence of a child that was useless to the family.

The silence kept on going until Tim voice spoke out.

“Are you sure you’re in the right way Alfred? The corner of the hallway looks as if it’s haunted”

“Yes Master Tim, they’ve been assign to that room after all”

Damian stare at the picture that’s laying at your table.

A picture of you and your mother.

Maybe it’s the only picture of you and her but it explains everything about your relationship with her.

You malnourished, eyes hold emptiness yet smiled so awkwardly at the camera, having just an oversized t-shirt and a shorts on, bandages free, happily in your mother arms.

Thats probably the only picture of you smiling.

Out of all the pictures that he sees in the album, the one where you’re under the care of Alfred, not his father.

You’re smiling with your mother, where you live a miserable and pitiful life.

What was it that was different or missing from this family that made you never smiled at least once?

In the past, he use to sneak into your room whenever it’s one of those days where you don’t come home.

Interested on why you look so….. depressing and On deathbed-like.

Yet as time goes by, he was interested in you by you’re nature.

Seeing your photos, art and diary (or at least what’s left of it).

He wanted to know more about you yet his pride and jealousy got in the way.

He wanted your attention yet he rejected the idea of even having a conversation with you.

Everything was fine until one day he sees the room clean and smell of fresheners.

That’s when he realized what he did.

He was too late- no, he can fix it.

He will get his older sibling back, he must.

God whoever this “Q” is will be the top of his list for taking what’s his.

He hold onto your childhood doll before tensing his body when the sound of creaking fills the room.

“Father, Alfred, Tim, Dick, what are you doing here?”

Inspired by @-acid-ixx Again & again series and @-marcyvamp1re-blog silly little bat

[randomgurl2326]

Next To My Wife

Pairing: Azriel x reader

Summary: The one time Azriel let his two worlds collide…ALSO…Based off of this quote from EPIC The Musical: After everything you’ve done, how will you sleep at night/Next to my wife

Warnings: Blood, Torture

The dungeon is cold. Second only to the Winter Court. The sounds of a male’s cries and screams are music to the spymaster’s ears.

The cobalt siphons on the Illyrian warrior’s leathers shine bright down here. Like they knew what he’s doing and that he takes pleasure in it.

The male doesn’t let the guilt creep in. Not yet. Guilt is for the conscience. Conscience is for home. He can’t afford conscience at work. That’s a luxury only innocence can have…. His sweet girl, innocent—

No, he can’t think of her now. Never let the two worlds touch, is what he tells himself. Keep the innocent innocent. Keep the bloody bloody.

Never let them touch.

Azriel’s shadows envelop the faerie. The whisps talk animatedly as they watch their master work. Suggestions ring through his ears from the tiny shadows.

The whip, master, the whip.

No! No! Truth Teller, Master. Surely that will get the job done.

The shadowsinger grits his teeth and lets out a grainy, “Quiet.”

The shadows whispers lessen to a dull roar. Azriel’s shoulder’s tense as he speaks, “Tell me what you know about Beron Vanserra’s dealings with Hybern.”

The faerie hesitates for only a second before hardening his gaze and answering, “Fuck. You.”

The spymaster breaks two of the male’s fingers as a result of his defiance. Azriel tightens his grip on the faerie, “Wrong answer. Tell me before I rip out your fucking veins one by one.”

The faerie male cries out in pain. Finally submitting to the spymaster, “Alright! Alright! I’ll tell you!” The next one quieter, “I’ll tell you.”

Azriel presses down on the other male’s jugular, “I’m listening.”

“T-the High Lord wanted a deal,” the Illyrian senses the quiver in the faerie’s voice, “A-a protection deal o-or something, I don’t fuckin’ know.”

The dark whisps of shadows stir again, sensing a lull.

He’s lying, master.

He knows but doesn’t want to tell master.

If pretty girl were here she’d be able to—

Azriel squeezes his eyes shut at the mention of his girl. Don’t let the two worlds touch, he says to himself, leave the conscience at home. The spymaster’s eyes open once again, reminding him of where he is. What he’s doing.

Scarred hands press down harder on the male’s protruding neck, “Enough of the bullshit. Tell me what you know.”

The faerie winces, “S-security! Security… he wanted to trade Night Court secrets in exchange for security with Hybern. Beron wanted stability. He senses a war. I-I don’t know what secrets he was gonna share. I just know that they were heavy.”

The Illyrian’s shadows exert approval of the truth. Azriel grunts and twists the male’s arm backwards, pushing his leather boot clad foot down on his back and forcing his head down.

The shadowsinger smirks and leans down to the faerie’s ear, with a dark voice he says, “Thank you… But you’re no longer needed.”

He unsheathes Truth Teller and stabs it in the male’s shoulder blade. He waits a beat before slowly pulling it out. The agonizing cries of the faerie bounce through the otherwise quiet halls of the dungeon. His whimpers bring a twisted delight to the spymaster.

Once the dagger is fully removed, Azriel stands and gives one last stomp on the faerie’s foot for good measure.

“Someone will be here in the morning to either clean your remains or your wounds. Make sure not to bleed too much. I do like this dungeon.”

Azriel walks off and cleans Truth Teller with a rag nearby. Just as the Illyrian is about to exit, he hears the faerie’s pain-stricken voice, “After everything you’ve done, how will you sleep at night?”

Azriel stops at the exit and smirks. He doesn’t dignify the faerie with a glance as he says in his gruff baritone, “Next to my wife.”

[solbaby7]

I love the idea of the drink menu for the requests! It's brilliant ✨️

Could I please get an Old Fashioned, salt rim, neat? Take your time 💋

[ “no, no, leave your clothes on for me.” + smut + az ]

thank you so much for the request and being patient with me 💕💕the vibe of this one is giving situationship that yearns to be more, been watching too much scandal🫣

-> BLURB BAR <-

—

You’d learned pretty early on in life that asking for forgiveness was better than begging for permission.

It was just easier, usually made things less complicated which is why you significantly downplay the importance of the dress purchase that had half a dozen seamstresses prattling about your bedchambers. One of them promptly shoos Azriel away once they notice him eyeing the divider you strip behind, ushering him up and out of the doorway. He’s adjusting his pants when the door shuts behind him, vividly recalling the glimpse all that tight fabric and the way it cinches at your waist, accentuating the full curves concealed beneath. It leaves him hungry; wanting—salivating like starved wolves that scavenge through the Middle for mere scraps.

“Hot date?”

Azriel’s brows furrow, still a little dizzy from the sight of you and your lingering scent; his body annoyingly attuned to your own. “No, why?”

Rhys lazily points in the direction of your room, eyes trained on the array of chilled whiskeys at the bar cart before him. “The dress she’s wearing is designer—exclusive; one of a kind. Need to book an appointment a year in advance as well as having a good word with the owner type exclusive.”

“So?”

“So,” Polished crystal clacks heavily against metal, one, two, three ice cubes fall inside before a hefty pour of some smoky whiskey that’s been sitting around longer than you’d been alive. “They don’t sell a single dress without taking specific measurements for alterations, making multiple appointments for fittings.” The lack of response makes Rhys turn, fingers brushing at the crease in his dress shirt as he takes his brother in. Hazel eyes are clouded with curiosity, a million possibilities being pinned up on a board as the hunter within him collects pieces of a puzzle. “My point is, no male in his right mind lets the woman he wants go out in a dress like that without having some sort of claim on her first.”

Suddenly, it makes sense why people of power are urged to be of sound mind; to have a level head so that advice like that didn’t send one into a spiral.

Azriel quickly learns that he is not of sound mind. A harsh truth that he realizes seconds after Rhys leaves him alone to settle with those words. They echo in his brain, repeating in his mind like some curse that’s dead set on haunting him.

Sure, the two of you hadn’t exactly put a title on all the secret moments spent scuffling off to some dark corner for a few frenzied kisses. The times where group nights at Rita’s leaves two bodies disappearing out back for his hands to hike up some skimpy dress enough to get a good grip of your ass. But that alone had to count for something at least, didn’t it?

No way some other male would get the chance to see you how Azriel did, right? His hands twitch at the uncertainty—jealousy lighting a fire in his ass that has him bee-lining it to your room like he fucking owns the place.

It’s almost comical, the way your door bounces off the wall under the pressure of his palm once he’s finally reached it. Too bad he’s too honed in on his target to take in the true humor of six attentive ladies shooting daggers at the towering interruption that keeps making your arms fidget or hips shift while they try to work. “Az?”

“We need to talk.”

“Oh, can it wait? They’re nearly finished with the—“

“No, I’m sorry. It needs to be now, it’s urgent.” Shadows are already following their masters will, urging the ladies out of the room and into the hall, the door shutting before their disgruntled words could breech the barrier. He turns, a speech brewing at the tip of his tongue but it all goes blank when he looks at you—really looks at you. “Wow, you look….wow.”

You preen under the attention, one arm holding up the bodice as you give him a spin. “I just knew when I saw it, it had to be mine.” There’s a few loose threads, buttons waiting in a little dish to the side to be sewn on properly but he gets the gist. Fully understands the intent of such fabrics when he sees it holding onto the shape of your curves. “Fits like a glove.”

“I can see that.” Grace is granted when you fully return to face the mirror, too entranced in the little details to even notice the way Azriel eats up the picture you paint. All soft lines and pretty shadows casted by the flickery golden light emitting from the candles you favor. Warm notes of vanilla and honeysuckle fill his nose and he commits every bit to memory; latching on to whatever he can of you. “A little skimpy for Starfall, don’t you think? Or is there a matching coat I’m not seeing?”

The cutting look you throw his way is felt through the reflective glass. “I’d never waste a dress like this on a familial event.” A neat brow raises as you carry on with your hair, hands holding it in a pony. Twisting it into a neat bun. Letting it all free and tousling it messily, lips pouting at the sexy bed head texture it creates.

“Then, what’s it for?”

“To get laid.”

Raw jealousy is injected into Azriel’s veins faster than he can even comprehend the attack. It shoots through his bloodstream, gobbling up all sensiblities while simultaneously planting seeds of doubt. Every inch of him goes rigid, lids narrowing and pupils dilating. Acid pools on his tongue, singeing through the words he speaks, “What gave you the impression that anyone else could touch you while you’re fucking me?”

“Oh, I don’t know—maybe, it’s the lack of exclusivity?” Mascara is brushed through your lashes. Lipgloss smeared across supple lips. “Or maybe it’s because I’m just too fucking pretty to be always second guessing why you won’t make a move already.”

A muscle ticks along his jaw, “I thought it was obvious enough that you and I—you belong to be.”

“Says who?” He abhors the way you laugh around your words. “Because, that conversation doesn’t ring a bell.”

Azriel’s shoulders shift, frustration lingering in his stance and you find yourself annoyingly attracted to the entitled way he begins to fill up the space of your room. Outside shoes sink into the soft plush of your rugs until he’s standing behind you, one finger flicking at your dress as if it were personally offending him. “Says me.”

A scoff passes glossy lips, a hand waving absently in his direction as if shooing off an insect. “Save the brutish male bullshit for a female who favors it. This dancing around your feelings thing is growing tiresome and borderline pathetic.”

You’ve gone too far.

The absence of his reply makes you sure of that. Too many seconds pass in silence, long enough for the mood to grow awkward. Lips part and close, the heat in Azriel’s stare too ambiguous to go off of.

Fingers fiddle with dainty gold rings held snug against your knuckle. “Az, I’m—“

“—In need of some clarification, it seems.” Every syllable comes out alarmingly even, forcing the hairs on the back of your neck to stand at attention. “Go to the bed and bend over.”

“…is this a joke?” You question over a tense laugh.

Not a single thing about him indicates so. “Does it feel like one?” He leaves no room for a response, jaw jutting out towards the bed. “Bend over.”

You swallow thickly, moving to comply while shimmying the dress down your torso.

“No.” Azriel’s voice cuts through like an arrow through the night, shadows curling around the curve of your shoulder, teasing through your hair. Goosebumps kiss your flesh, neck craning as your body melts to mush under his attention. “Leave your clothes on for me. You spent so much money,” Every step he takes is as silent as a whisper; the only way you can tell he’s directly behind you is because of the foot that nudges between your ankles, widening your stance. “Let me appreciate it how it deserves, yeah?”

He’s not really asking for a response but you nod along either way.

Anticipation burns beneath your skin, warms your belly, makes toes curl in expensive shoes when you hear the shift of his clothes as he crouches down to his knees. Shadows hold up the hem of your dress, preventing you from seeing exactly what Az is doing, but your imagination fills in the blanks when you feel his breath against the back of your thighs. "Pretty," The muscles in your legs jump at his touch, cool fingertips trailing up your calves, squeezing at the thickness of upper thighs while running his thumb under the fat of your ass.

You get the feeling he isn't referring to the intricate lace detailing or near invisible line along the side that concealed the zipper running from hip to rib. Not when he spreads you open, a deep hum rumbling in his chest at the wet sound of your cunt separating beneath thin cotton.

“Now there’s a warm welcome,” A hooked finger peels it away, revealing bare sex and dripping arousal. Calloused skin dragging against a sensitive clit has your hips jumping at the sudden attention.

Teeth bite at supple lips, a moan crooning free as pleasure licks up your spine—it’s not enough. You shift from foot to foot, heels forcing a strain in your hamstrings while bent over in this position but Azriel doesn’t seem to care in the slightest. “Beating around the bush, as usual.” He’s perfectly content exploring around with your sex, circling around your clit and teasing his fingers into a warm hole that all but weeps in rejoice at the attention.

“Don’t rush me.” Your throat rolls with a thick swallow at the authority in his tone, brows pinched with pleasure as he works you open. “A male can spend all day tinkering away with his toys if that’s what he pleases. Don’t you agree?”

It should bother you more that Azriel plays fucking dirty.

He’s just daring you to deny him while he’s got you so exposed—so vulnerable. Fingers abusing at a sensitive spot that has your legs shaking and pelvis bulging a little at the intrusion. Arousal pools in his palm, fingers coaxing your mind to mush; pulverizing all the fight you have as he works you to your high.

“Yes!” You all but shout, back arching into the orgasm that washes over you. Incoherent little babbles follow, choppy encouragements and whispered pleas for reprieve but all Azriel can hear is ‘yesyesyes’ ‘yoursyoursyours’.

Someone of his own to covet. To kiss and love and fuck and ruin.

Something like satisfaction coats his cadence. “I knew you’d see it my way.”

[lol a lil bonus part i couldn’t make fit but refused to delete]

“Pathetic, hm?”

A satisfied grin spreads along flushed cheeks, hair messy and lipgloss smudged. “You do your best work when provoked.” Something like realization bleeds back into your eyes and in seconds you’re flailing from his arms, slipping off the mattress and using the discarded dress as coverage when you rush to the door.

There’s a few seams loose, string hanging out haphazardly and wrinkles all over but your smile is bright—damn near dopey when you drop a thick velvet bag in their palm. “Final payment plus tip—the dress is perfect.”

“It’s ruined!”

“Trust me,” Fabric whispers as it moves, legs shuffling to tuck your frame better behind the door. “It served its purpose.”

[bunicate]

satoru helping his lactating big sister :]

yk I said nanami nd suguru , nd u have the nerve to send s*toru . . . jus so yk im most likely never writing for dis man again but i felt impulsive so here is 700 words . I did dis in like 5 mins . . dnt expect cwazy

⋆⁺₊❅ ⋆ 𐙚 ₊˚ warnings ꒱ྀི incest. lactation / 18+

“stop doing that.”

you’re careful to punctuate every word, hoping that it would somehow force him to sense at least an ounce of your desperation. you’d like to think that your misery would act as some sort of deterrent from his stream of jokes, but it only enables him.

satoru chuckles, flicking his thumbs over the raised skin.

“sorry, but no can do, sis.”

his pointer finger and thumb latch onto the hardened bud and he tugs it with a gentle force. he admires the ripple of fat before he’s doing it again. this time his attention to your aching nipple is careful but rough. it encourages a small spurt of milk that trickles down his fingers, staining your already damp blouse.

“shit,” he mutters.

he takes a few seconds to marvel at the mess before removing his fingers from the taut flesh. he places them in his mouth and lets out a deep hum. his eyes roll back in his head when the sweet coating of milk warms his tongue, but you’re utterly horrified.

“s-satoru ! you said you’d help me get the milk out , not drink it .”

he shrugs. “does it matter ?” he pushes you closer to the kitchen sink. “besides, it seems like such a waste to let it go down the drain.”

he’s seen all kinds of crazy things come from all walks of life, but just when he thought he’s seen it all, you come bustling down the hall near tears and breasts mysteriously leaking milk.

he should be concerned, he should be mortified actually, but he’s mastered the art of finding the good in the bad, the weird, and the crazy. nothing ever really surprises him anymore.

he handles this mess with such ease that it truly exasperates you. he’s unfortunately, just one of a kind.

satoru , however, believes he’s a good younger brother. after all, he’s relieving your tender breasts of milk. he’s been massaging them for well over 30 minutes, big hands groping and jiggling the plumpness, not for his amusement of course. it’s such a strenuous task, so he deserves some type of reward, right?

he gives your breast another squeeze until droplets fall into the kitchen sink, lips tingling at the sight.

“maybe you’re half cow or something . . .”

satoru flinches expectantly when your fist collides with his chest. he’s jostled backward, and he clutches his pectoral dramatically.

“it’s a joke !”

you clutch your exposed breasts timidly.

“well, it’s not funny ! I'm going through a midlife crisis and as your older sister, you could at least show me some respect , you ass !”

he doubles over in laughter, signaling his ever-growing amusement. satoru then attaches himself right back to your side, nuzzling into the side of your cheek. a snarky chuckle emits from his throat.

“as tempting as that may be, I don’t think you’re in the position to make demands.”

his hands roughly cup your breasts, pumping them while milk continually spills. his body is nearly inflamed from touching you. his chin rests on the top of your head while he tugs your fat tits.

his cock presses against his jeans, rubbing his groin against your perky butt.

“y’feel so good.”

you whine in pure defeat. how could this be going so wrong ? you’re supposed to push him away, tell him to stop, but arousal clouds your judgment. your cunt is throbbing, on the brink of an orgasm, and it only heightens when his erection slots between your ass.

“t-toru. . .”

he whistles lowly, “wow, you sound so pretty like that.”

he gradually increases his pace on both your sore nipples.

“let satoru-nii take care of you.” he bites back a wicked smile.

“say it. let me pretend to be your big brother just this once, please ?”

there’s a soft tinge in his voice that resembles a whine. the strength to resist slowly dissipates when his cock mushes against opening, and his pants fan across your ear

“satoru-nii. . .”

It’s quiet, but his sensitive ear picks up on your little cry. his mouth trails down your neck until he’s breathing over your puffy nipples .

his tongue grazes the milky bud, tasting your sweet fluid once more .

“alright, alright. I'll suck until the swelling goes down. how does that sound ? “

[literaryvein-reblogs]

may I ask how maids would have been hired (if you needed a job for the royal family) back in the day?

Writing Notes: The Royal Household

The Medieval Royal Household

Very early in English history the royal household can be seen falling into 3 main divisions:

the chapel with its staff of clerks,

the hall where the daily life of the household was passed, and

the chamber where the king could retire for sleeping and privacy and where his clothes, jewels, and muniments were stored.

A similar threefold division can be seen in all the royal households of Europe and in the households of great magnates in every land.

The King’s Hall. Was under the care of 2 officers of equal rank:

the seneschal (steward) and

the master butler,

Their two parallel departments provided food and drink through a series of officers carefully graded as to pay and allowances down to the man who counted the loaves and the slaughterers who had no pay but “customary food” only.

After the hall came the chamber under the master chamberlain, but beside him stood

the treasurer, each of these officers receiving the same pay and allowances as the seneschal and master butler. Below them were less well-paid chamberlains:

the man who looked after the king’s bed with a man and a packhorse for its transport,

the king’s tailor, and

his bath attendant.

The appearance here of the treasurer—as the head of the new financial department, the exchequer—shows that in origin the treasury was regarded as a household department. This does not mean that the treasure always traveled with the king. At Winchester a strong place had long been established for the receipt and custody of the king’s treasure, but it was staffed by household officers and was essentially a department of the household.

The Constitutio concludes with the 2 departments which between them cared for:

the safety, peace, order, and comfort of the household and

for the king’s sport.

Ladies-in-Waiting

Lady-in-Waiting - a woman of noble birth who serves a female monarch as a member of the royal household (in European history).

Any noble woman performing personal service for a queen is often referred to as a lady-in-waiting, although exact titles differ depending on a woman’s particular office or marital status, as well as the language being used.

Similar posts exist outside Europe, perhaps most notably in Asia.

The office of lady-in-waiting originated during the Middle Ages as a consequence of the growth and proliferation of queenly households.

Queens who spent extended periods separate from the king needed to maintain a discrete household of servants and retainers.

Some of these servants were required to assist the queen with:

dressing,

personal hygiene,

and other intimate tasks

and thus needed to be female.

How Ladies-in-Waiting were Selected

Ladies-in-waiting have traditionally been chosen from noble and aristocratic families, and were selected based on:

their social standing,

education, and

suitability for the role.

Initially, such posts were held by paid servants.

However, this changed amid the growing medieval association between a temporal monarch and the sanction of divinity.

This belief meant that only those of elevated status should engage in physical contact and close relationships with a monarch.

Thus, ladies-in-waiting became women of noble birth.

In addition, they were required to be married.

The office of maid-of-honour also emerged during this time, and it was held by unmarried women.

The composition of the group of ladies-in-waiting attending to the queen varied based on politics and individual monarchs, including both the queen and the king. Records show that some queens had more than 100 ladies-in-waiting, but most had significantly smaller households.

Duties of Ladies-in-Waiting

The duties of ladies-in-waiting varied across Europe but were generally similar in the medieval and early modern periods.

Ladies-in-waiting performed intimate duties such as putting on and removing the queen’s clothing and bathing her.

They were expected to put her needs above those of their own husbands and children.

They spent most of the day with the queen and provided her with companionship and entertainment in her private chambers. To that end many ladies-in-waiting could sing, play musical instruments, and dance.

In addition, they maintained a prominent role in the court’s public life, attending to the queen and participating in such events as ambassadorial receptions and masques. For this reason, preparation to become a lady-in-waiting included gaining proficiency in several languages.

Ladies-in-waiting were universally expected to maintain high moral standards, avoiding scandal and often staying disengaged from politics.

In the past, typical responsibilities included:

providing companionship,

assisting with bathing and dressing,

managing the wardrobe and jewelry,

helping to navigate social situations,

writing correspondence,

overseeing servants, and

running errands.

However, the political influence of ladies-in-waiting in European courts is well documented.

It was sometimes the subject of gossip and ridicule, for smearing the reputation of a lady-in-waiting was an effective political tool against a monarch.

Such was the case of Catherine de’ Medici’s female household, many of whom were accused of using seduction for political gain in 16th-century France.

Exercising political power in the medieval and early modern patronage systems of royal courts was in fact a key element of the lives of ladies-in-waiting and often the reason that they sought such offices.

A lady-in-waiting had direct access to the queen, who wielded varying degrees of influence over the king and his court.

This allowed ladies-in-waiting to advance the petitions and career interests of their families and others.

Many ladies-in-waiting received no official compensation for their work and were understood to have taken the office solely to gain social and political capital.

In turn, many queens required their ladies-in-waiting to pass along intelligence about their families and members of the court.

Ladies-in-waiting were particularly powerful in the courts of female monarchs who ruled independently, as they had direct access to and influence with the highest power in the land.

Other Rules

While there were many rules and expectations for royal ladies-in-waiting, here are a few of their more surprising responsibilities.

They were expected to dedicate their lives to their mistress

They slept in the queen’s bedchamber. Historically, a lady-in-waiting had many duties and was expected to fulfill her responsibilities around the clock, even while her mistress was sleeping. In fact, it wasn’t uncommon for one or more court ladies to share a sleeping space with a royal woman.

They kept their mistress entertained. It wasn’t all work and no play for royal companions. In their free time, ladies-in-waiting enjoyed a variety of hobbies, including reading and embroidery.

They had to navigate catching the eye of the king. Being a queen’s lady-in-waiting often meant learning how to diplomatically, and discreetly, deal with a king. Sometimes, the relationship between a court lady and the king became scandalously intimate.

They traveled, and moved, with their mistress. Along with attending their mistresses in their royal households, ladies-in-waiting also traveled alongside them as chaperones and companions. If their mistress moved to a new country for marriage or education, they often went with her.

They had to do the queen’s bidding or risk banishment. History is filled with stories of court ladies paying the price for their illicit activities, with punishments ranging from banishment to imprisonment to execution.

In Britain

In Britain, ladies-in-waiting are titled noblewomen who serve not only the queen, but also high-ranking women in the royal household.

Although they do not live at Buckingham Palace, they sometimes stay there or in royal apartments in London should their duties require it.

They are close, often childhood friends of the monarch, and come from titled families whose lineages stretch back alongside royalty.

They act as personal assistants to the queen, assisting in day-to-day activities such as running errands, delivering messages and organising correspondence, as well as attending to personal matters, and accompanying her on royal tours and visits.

Different Titles. A lady-in-waiting attending to the queen is usually called:

Lady of the Bedchamber and they are ranked between

First Lady of the Bedchamber and the

Women of the Bedchamber, each carrying out various duties.

The Mistress of the Robes is almost always a duchess and the senior woman in the royal household. She is responsible for the regent’s clothes and jewellery, arranging the rota of attendance of the ladies-in-waiting and other duties at state ceremonies.

As a Character Trope

Lady-in-Waiting - a personal assistant to a queen, princess, or noblewoman at court.

She is often of noble birth herself but is usually from a lower social rank than the woman she is attending to.

Her duties can vary greatly, as can her relationship with her mistress.

A lady-in-waiting will often:

serve her food,

help her get dressed, and

prepare her for bed, while also

accompanying her during courtly activities like dancing lessons or horse riding.

Depending on how much the mistress trusts her lady-in-waiting, she could be her confidante:

pass on secret messages for her, or

spy on other members of the court.

Ladies-in-waiting can be either viewed as friends by the mistress or as simple tools to use however she sees fit.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 ⚜ More: Writing References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

I assumed you were referring to ladies-in-waiting rather than just maids/servants within the royal household, who were usually not in direct contact with the monarchs. In which case, their selection/hiring was not as complex as that of ladies-in-waiting. Hope this helps with your writing!

[rin-may-1103]

The Wrong Robin Au (Part Six)

Previous | Master Post | Next AN: Because I wanted Danny and Jason to be the same age, I've moved the DP timeline forward six years. (If we go with their canon ages and timeline, Danny's the same age as Dick.) I'll make it make sense, but until then please ignore the possible confusion it might cause😅.

Turning, Danny held the picture frame up to show Bruce who he was talking about. Bruce glanced up and studied it for a moment before he looked at Danny. His eyes were calculating just like they had been for the past ten minutes, which might Danny add, was really annoying.

"That's my eldest son, Dick." Bruce finally answered, continuing to watch for Danny's reaction.

Danny blinked, looked down at the picture then turned to put it back. why in the world was his name Dick? like, was that actually his name or was it a nickname? it's not like Danny was judging the kid for it, but seriously, who names their kid dick?

sure, Danny used to fight ghosts named Skulker and Technis all the time, but they chose their names. Did the kid willingly choose to go by dick or were his parents unaware of what the word meant? Danny's really hoping the parents weren't aware of what it meant, because if they were? oh boy was that a bag of worms Danny wanted nothing to do with.

How old was the kid anyway? That looked like an older picture, so he probably wasn't that young anymore.

"How old is he?" Danny asks, turning to study another picture. this one was of Jason hanging out with Alfred in what looked like a kitchen. The kid was covered in flour while Alfred didn't have a single speck of dust on him. They both looked happy.

Bruce was silent for a moment, so Danny turned to look at him. Confusion and shock swirled around him, making Danny frown.

"you don't know how old he is do you?" Danny asked, glaring at Bruce. As much as Danny promised to help him, the man was making it extremely hard to do so, when every time he learns something it makes him want to punt the man into the sun.

alright, so forgetting when someone's birthday is sucks but doesn't make sense for someone like Batman, so it wasn't that exactly it's probably more along the lines of grief messing with his perception of time. yeah, that makes more sense. because if it's not, Danny's not afraid to punch the man again.

"Alright, what's his birthday?" Danny asks, making his way to sit back in the chair he had used previously.

"march 20th," Bruce grumbled, turning to glare out the window like the emo bat he was. And see? He didn't forget the date, which means, Danny was right.

"year?" Danny pushed, slumping down in his chair. It felt like he was pulling teeth with how trying to get information from the man was going. Ancients, Danny was going to go gray before they got anywhere.

"1990," Bruce replied, still glaring out the window like he was in some emo music video.

"Alright, it's 2013, so doing some basic maths, Dick is" Danny pretended to do a drumroll as he quickly calculated the dude's age. and he was a dude because he's definitely older than Danny.

"23," Danny finally announced, looking up to watch as Bruce's emotions spiraled in the air. Anger, hurt, annoyance, guilt. Yep, a full-blown meltdown is on the horizon, everyone. let's back it up, Danny's seen enough grown men cry, he doesn't need to do it again.

"Alright!" clapping his hands, Danny stood up and made his way to the door. opening it, Danny glanced out the hall and spotted Alfred finally making his way back toward them. looks like that blood analysis Bruce definitely ordered Alfred to do finally finished. good.

"Alright, mister anger issues. you need to go to bed." turning back to the room, Danny pointed at Bruce. the man stared at him, his emotions freezing in their downward spiral as he processed the words.

"I agreed," Alfred cut in before Bruce could argue against it, making Danny grin. Oh, he was so going to get along with Alfred, he just knew it.

walking over to the desk, Danny snatched one of the sticky notes and a pen. Writing his number on the paper, he handed it to Alfred, "Here you go. you get to keep it because I have a feeling you'll actually use it properly. it's my number, call me tomorrow after he gets some rest. I'll come back and we can discuss how to go about the Batman business from now on"

"you can't just-" Bruce started, cutting himself off when Alfred took the paper and promptly started guiding him out of his own office. "honestly, Master Bruce. You need your sleep, you've gotten so bad lately, that you willingly fought a child."

"I'll show myself out!" Danny called after them, watching as they turned a corner. glancing at the clock, he noticed a green sticky note. blinking, Danny made his way over. nothing was written on it. which means this was just a hint to start looking around here.

intrigued, Danny started studying the grandfather clock, wondering what clockwork could possibly want him to find. The wood overlay looked fine, and the upper door looked freshly polished. The Moon Dial and clock face looked normal, though the hour and minute hands looked slightly worn down. the glass side access panel looked like it hadn't been touched in years.

hmm, strange. the toe molding had slight scuff marks on the corner like it repeatedly hit against something. glancing around, Danny spotted matching marks on the bookshelf next to the clock. crouching down, Danny studied the marks. it was like Bruce had repeatedly moved the clock around like a door...

standing up, Danny studied the clock handles again. worn down like they had been repeatedly rearranged, but the side access panel looked practically brand new which meant the internal workings of the clock worked perfectly fine. so then why would someone have to reset the time if it wasn't broken?

unless...

carefully opening the glass upper door, Danny studied the clock face closely. the oil from human fingers usually damaged the pearl facing used in most clocks, so all Danny had to do was...

there! right below the X that meant ten, and again slightly behind the XI for eleven. which means...

moving the hour hand to right before eleven, and the minute hand to right before ten (so around minute 48.) Danny heard a click. stepping back, Danny watched as the grandfather clock swung open and revealed a passageway. glancing back to the door Alfred and Bruce had left through, Danny smiled.

"Thanks, clocky," he whispered, heading inside and closing the clock-made door behind him. If Tim was right, and he definitely was, the bat cave was below the manor, and with his enhanced eyesight, Danny could see an elevator at the end of the dark hallway, which meant this was one of the secret entrances. (he's pretty sure Batman's smart enough to have more than one entrance. it'd be pretty stupid not to.)

he had plenty of time to snoop around the Batcave now, which meant he had plenty of time to figure out how it worked and how to use that to his advantage. Bruce can't ignore him and his advice if all the bat suits go missing now, can he?

Next

[thanksbutno98]

Roses

John Price x wife!reader OC

Summary: John Price finds himself caught in a lie and tries to make it up to his wife.

Warning: Sexual themes, alludes to sexual acts, nsfw, swearing, talks of cheating, domestic arguments, not edited.

——————

John was just jogging down the stairs after a quick shower when the door bell to the Price family home was rung. He was dressed in blue jeans and a deep red long sleeve that you had just bought him. Taking the few extra steps from the bottom of the stairs to the front door, John swung it open wondering who was stopping by on this Saturday afternoon.

Upon opening the large wooden front door John’s eyebrows raised to see a delivery driver holding a vase with at least two dozen long stemmed red roses that had wisps of baby’s breath accenting them. The vase had an ornate design carved into the clear crystal, it looked to be expensive. John knew for a fact flowers like these cost a fortune, having spent more money than he’d like to admit on similar ones. The man looked unimpressed and ready to hand these over and be on his way.

“Delivery for-“ the man paused and looked at the clipboard in his hand.

“Y/N Price.” The look on the delivery drivers face made John wonder how much this guy truly hated his job.

“Uh, yeah. I can sign for it.” Still taken aback John signed the paper on the clipboard and then was handed the large vase of flowers. It was so large in fact John could barely see over it when he held it.

“Have a good one.” They were insincere words but John was too preoccupied to care.

Shutting the door, John quickly snagged the small white envelop to see who had sent you flowers. Maybe it was your father since your birthday was in the coming weeks. It could also be from work as you had just held a large event at the museum.

Opening up the small white card John didn’t realize he was invading your privacy. He was to consumed on who the hell was outshining him and sending you two dozen roses out of the blue. Inside, the note read:

‘Just a small thank you for everything’

It wasn’t signed. So John scoffed and then looked around the first floor to see if anyone else was witness to this confusing event, but then he remembered his kids were all out today. From the message John knew this wasn’t from your father, he always signed his name. If it was from work they too would have signed off in some way.

The first impression these roses gave John was a romantic gesture. But you weren’t the type to lead anyone on, you were perfectly friendly and a master at setting appropriate boundaries. You also would never cheat and if you did you deffinetly weren’t dumb enough to have your lover sending you flowers to your family home.

John stuck the note back where he found it and began his walk down the hall to the kitchen at the back of the house. He knew you were in there just from the smell of brownies baking in the oven and the light sound of your music filling the house. On the way he racked his brain trying to figure out who sent you flowers with such a cryptic message. Not signing off was John’s thing because who else would be sending you something so romantic and extravagant.

Stepping into the kitchen John saw you leaning against the counter and scrolling on your phone. You looked so pretty with your hair tied back and in your gym shorts and fitted baby blue t-shirt. The look that spread across your gorgeous features as you looked up at him had his chest puffing out with pride.

“Someone’s trying to get lucky tonight.” The words tumbled from your tongue. You were floored to see your burly military man walk in with the most beautiful flower arrangement you’d ever seen. It had your heart thumping loudly and skin tingling at such a romantic gesture. You couldn’t remember the last time John had done something so spontaneous.

Placing your phone down you were quick to take the vase from your husband and place it on the white marble of the kitchen island. You looked up at him with a mischievous grin and twinkle in your eyes.

Before John could reply that he hadn’t bought these for you he watched as you slowly lowered yourself to your knees in front of him. This was not what he was expecting but he couldn’t get himself to speak up as you unfastened his belt. With eyebrows raised and he still hadn’t spoken a word John’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as you showed him your appreciation.

——————

“Wow dad, what did you do to piss mom off?” Your son’s voice echoed from the kitchen.

John and you were currently snuggled up together on the couch watching jeopardy. He had you tucked under his left arm with your head on his chest. You both were laying flat, your leg throw over your husband’s waist with a blanket pulled over the both of you. You snickered as John rolled his eyes.

“Quite the apology.” Jj appeared in the living room and walked to the end of the couch so you could all see each other.

Your sixteen year old was dressed in gym clothes and drenched in sweat having probably just worked out. He was staring at you with an amused look waiting for you to spill whatever dumb stunt his father had pulled. Your children got a lot of satisfaction out of seeing their father in trouble with you.

“He got them for me just cuz.” You beamed feeling smug that your son’s assumption was wrong. Jj quirked an eyebrow and looked at his father who was purposefully ignoring him and watching tv. John smoothed down his mutton chops refusing to acknowledge Jj even after he cleared his throat.

“Old man’s just buttering you up before you find out whatever it is he’s done.” The joke had you giving your son an unimpressed look but finally had John responding.

“Oi, why can’t I just do something nice for your mother?” John snapped back.

Little did anyone know John was not the one to get you those flowers. In fact he had no clue who got them for you but he wasn’t opposed to reaping all the benefits for whoever the idiot was to not sign the damn card.

“Okay, they just seem like birthday or anniversary flowers. Or an ‘I fucked up, please forgive me’ bouquet. Which you’ve been known to buy.” Jj was snickering as he teased his father. John only grunted and turned the volume up on the tv. Choosing to not dignify what his son said with a response.

“Go shower and leave your father alone.” You waved Jj away who only rolled his eyes with a cheeky smirk. You placed a sweet kiss to John’s scruffy face and whispered to him not the listen to your son, and that you loved the flowers.

“Soak it up dad. Haven’t seen mum this smitten with you since- maybe ever.” Jj had to sneak in one last jab.

Out of the corner of his eye Jj saw something being hurled in his direction and he quickly skirted out of the living room and up the stairs. You and your son burst into laughter as John whipped a throw pillow in his direction. You were jostled off your husband’s chest as he bounded over the back of the couch and chased Jj up the stairs.

“Shit!” Jj yelled, his laughter ringing through the house as you heard him try and shut his bedroom door.

There was load stomping and shuffling from Jj’s room above you as you heard your son laughing uncontrollably. You just knew John had wrestled him to the floor and was now tickling him into submission.

“Say uncle!” John’s raspy voices boomed from upstairs.

Laying on the couch you enjoyed the sounds of your husband and son wrestling upstairs. John was laughing loudly while Jj’s voice reached an octave so high it sounded like he was squealing. The tussle ended with Jj yelling ‘uncle’ multiple times until John finally decided to let him go.

——————

“I mean it’s a grand statement dad. You sure you didn’t do anything?” Evelyn asked as she brought her spoon to her mouth.

The entire family was gathered at the kitchen table eating dinner together. John was at the head with Jj to his left and you to his right. Evelyn, your fourteen year old, was sat next to you and Lily, your eight year old, was across from her and next to Jj. The large vase of roses was sat in the middle of the table making it hard for everyone to see each other, but you didn’t care. You were happy to show off your fancy gift and you assumed your husband was eating it up.

The gorgeous red roses kept staring back at John as he narrowed his eyes at them and ate his dinner. No part of him felt guilty for taking the credit, but the gnawing question of who actually sent them scratched at the back of his mind. His kids were right, they were quite the gesture. They screamed ‘I love you’ and now John wanted to know what asshole had eyes for you.

“Could you pass the potato’s. Uh-“ Lily stammered as her and Evelyn danced around the flowers, each going the opposite way trying to get to the plate.

A polite knock rattled against the glass of your back door. It was opening before you could invite anyone in but you could all see it was Jj’s closest friend Oliver. Oliver was a polite boy who shared similar manners to your own son. He had pale skin with rutty cheeks, neatly styled brown hair, matching eyes, and a confident smile. You thought he was a sweet heart who could be overly polite and usually asked if you needed help with anything. John would say the boy was cheeky with a wandering eye.

“Oh- I’m sorry I thought you’d be done with dinner.” Oliver looked ready to retreat, clearly not wanting to be rude and interrupt your dinner.

“Nah, just finished. Ollie and I’ll be upstairs.” Jj was getting up from his seat with his empty plate, ready to wash it off and be on his way.

“You want something to eat, Ollie?” You asked ready to get up and serve him a plate.

“No thanks Mrs. Price. My mum cooked up a feast before I came.” Oliver was kicking off his shoes and hanging up his jacket at he spoke.

“I see the flowers are a lot nicer than I expected.” Oliver pointed quickly to the large vase of roses before shoving his hand back in his jean pocket.

“What?” You asked, spoon still in your mouth and words muffled.

“The flowers. They’re a thank you for helping me with that history essay. Ended up getting perfect marks thanks to you, Mrs. Price.” The blush was visible on Oliver’s face. He had one hand in his pocket while the other was rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“I didn’t realize they’d be so- much, I guess. Mum thought it was a sweet gesture and all.” He tacked on clearly feeling a bit caught out.

John had stiffened at the boys words. If anyone felt caught out it was him in this moment. John’s eyes slowly moved from his plate and to your face. Your eyes darted to him for only a second but he could see the rage in them if only briefly. Putting on a straight face John watched as you smiled politely, doing an impeccable job at hiding your true feelings.

“You bought my mum flowers?” Jj sounded in utter disbelief but also grossed out at his friend’s gesture. His face reflected his tone.

“You’re such an ass.” Evelyn snorted and started laughing at her father who was stone faced and staring at you intently, trying to gauge your reaction.

“What!? Oh my god, I didn’t mean to-“ Oliver thought Evelyn was talking to him and he quickly sputtered, waving his hands in front of him. His face was as red as the roses but you didn’t want him to feel bad for something you thought was a very sweet and thoughtful gesture.

“You’re fine Oliver, thank you. It’s actually the sweetest things anyone’s done for me in a while. It feels nice to be appreciated. I’m happy you did so well on your essay.” You interrupted him, giving him a sincere smile. Seeing how you were genuinely appreciative had the sixteen year old relaxing.

Your comments of this being ‘the sweetest thing anyone’s done for you in a while’ was not lost on John. He was a smart man and knew you were throwing a dig at him in what came across as a very sincere compliment to Oliver. The room was becoming hot and John could feel that he was beginning to sweat from the impending tongue lashing you were bound to give him.

“Yeah, of course. Thanks, again.” Oliver’s face was still crimson but the panic had left him.

“Ew, who buys their mates mum flowers.” Jj was shaking his head and motioning for Oliver to follow him. As they walked down the hall, it was clear Oliver thought no one could hear him as he spoke.

“Didn’t think they’d look like that! I just knew she liked roses wasn’t trying to get in ya mums pants.”

You had to place your face in your hands hearing your son’s friends response. Lily was quietly eyeing her father with an amused look while Evelyn was getting up from her spot, laughing uncontrollably.

“Lily, c’mon let’s go play the sims and let mum murder dad without witnesses.” The giggles didn’t stop there even when Evelyn tried to contain herself.

“You’re very mean for taking Ollie’s credit. That’s called stealing and we Price’s don’t steal.” Lily lectured her father as she scooted out of her seat and scurried over to the sink to put her plate away. Her sentiment was one John had hammered into each of his children, so he felt that he deserved the snarky words although it had him feeling doubly embarrassed.

John was staring at you who still had your face in your hands, also feeling embarrassed. The turn of event had your adrenaline pumping out of pure shock and anger. Holding a calm demeanor when you wanted to flip out at your husband had to be your super power. Only John could bring you to a point that yelling didn’t even feel like enough.

It hurt deeply to now know you’d been lied to all day about the origin of these flowers. Having thought your husband went out of his way to surprise you with something so extravagant and thoughtful had you feeling on top of the world, and now you were plummeting back down to earth. You had been all over him and he allowed you to be tricked into believing he was being thoughtful when in reality it was your son’s friend. You felt stupid in that moment. Stupid for feeling so appreciated when John didn’t even do anything.

“What kind of sixteen year old has enough money to buy those?” John awkwardly laughed, attempting to use humor as a way to diffuse the situation.

“Not sure, but at least he’s more appreciative of me helping him with an essay than my husband is for everything I do for him and our family.” The words came out cold as a numbness took over. You were so angry and hurt it left you calm and fully removed emotionally from your husband.

“The card wasn’t signed and what muppet doesn’t sign the bloody card. How was I suppose to know?” John wasn’t using logic or reason, he was just trying to get you to not be mad at him.

“I don’t know. Maybe the fact you didn’t buy them should’ve tipped you off?” You stood abruptly not bothering to look at John. He tried to reach for you as you left but you pulled your hand away.

“Clean the kitchen. I’m going to take a bath.” You ordered, not caring that your husband was left to clean up the mess.

——————

“Darling, don’t be mad at me.” John begged as he slipped out of his pajama pants then shirt to crawl into bed in nothing but his boxers.

You responded by giving him a sharp look from the corner of your eye. That seemed to be enough of a response as the mutton chopped man cringed. John had been steering clear of you, hoping some space would help you cool off. He knew he was an ass but really thought he’d get away with it. Now he was receiving the consequences of his actions and he didn’t like it one bit.

“You were so happy I didn’t have the heart to tell you they weren’t from me. You were so thankful, I just couldn’t get myself to speak up.” John tried to get you to soften by bringing up your very enthusiastic reaction from earlier.

“That blowjob was given under false pretenses!” You snapped back, clapping your book shut viciously for emphasis.

“I didn’t know you would assume they were from me and I couldn’t really interrupt you when you had my trousers around my ankles.” John tried to argue but you only fluffed your pillow with way too much vigor and rolled over with your back to him. John reached out and lightly touched your shoulder as he spoke.

“Darling-“

You had whipped around so fast it had the words catching in John’s throat. The look in your eyes had him feeling lucky his head was still attached to his shoulders.

“You owe me! And you owe me big time. The fact a sixteen year old is more romantic than my own husband is insulting.” You hissed.

“I can get you an even nicer bouquet of fl-“

“Couch, now!” The words were just under a shout and John put his hands up by his shoulders realizing he had poked the bear.

Quietly and without a word your husband slipped back into his pajamas and grabbed his pillow, then exited your bedroom. Shutting the door behind him John took a deep breath, feeling that he had been fortunate enough to escape that room with his life.

“So that apology bouquet in the works?” Jj’s voice echoed down the hall, a smug smirk plastered across his face. He was just exiting the bathroom with a towel around his waist and not missing the opportunity to tease his father.

“Yeah, right after I murder your friend.” John retorted.

——————

The sound of your bedroom door shutting stirred you from sleep. It felt too early to be waking up but you allowed your eyes to flutter open. Your room was still dark but you could see the sky beginning to lighten through your sheer curtains. Rolling on to your back something caught your attention out of the corner of your eye.

Glancing over to John’s side of the bed there was a massive oddly shaped object sitting in his spot. It was weirdly human shaped and scared the absolute shit out of you. You gasped and moved to get away from it, accidentally moving too far in your haste and falling straight out of bed with a loud thud. Keeping yourself hidden behind the side of the bed your arm reached up as you frantically felt around for the draw string of your lamp. Once the cool metal touched your finger tips you quickly pulled on it causing the light to flicker on and illuminate your bedroom. Slowly you peaked your head out from the side of the bed and sighed in relief.

Sitting in John’s spot was a giant teddy bear. It was one of those life sized ones that you see at children’s shops or as a prize at a carnival. It had dark brown fur and black button eyes. On top of its head was John’s signature hat, it had a heart shaped balloon tied to its left arm and in its lap was a regular looking bouquet of red roses.

“Fucking, apology bouquet.” You scoffed, finally standing up.

You were still mad at your husband but you had to admit this was pretty endearing. It also had you shaking your head that your children had clocked that their father tended to buy you flowers when he messed up. Taking a deep breath you inspected the bear and could appreciate how soft it was. You hated that it made you smile and had you softening up.

Changing into leggings and a t-shirt you went and got ready for the day. You kept catching a glimpse at the obnoxiously large bear and you couldn’t help but find it cute as time passed, it was definitely the hat that made it so lovable. You may have punched it a few times to blow off some steam but ended up laying on your bed and hugging it for a while before you went downstairs.

Once downstairs you were greeted by your family who was just setting out breakfast. It looked like a team effort to get everything cooked and set up but you didn’t have to do it for once so you weren’t complaining. You saw John gesturing to your kids about something but brushed it off as you went and poured yourself a cup of coffee.

“Thanks mum, for everything you do.” Lily was the first by your side.

She was smiling up at you and handing you a rose. Before you could say thank you Jj, who was taller than you now, was hugging you from behind and handing you a rose.

“Yeah thanks mum. For always cooking breakfast and everything else you do.” Your son gave you a tight squeeze and soon Evelyn was next to you and kissing your cheek.

“Thanks mum. I’m pretty sure you know you’re the best but even you need reminders too.” Evelyn hugged you around the middle.

“You three are so sweet.” You were blushing and smiling ear to ear having your children shower you with love. You brought all three of them into a big group hug.

John was the last to approach you. Standing taller than everyone, he bear hugged the lot of you. Lily was giggling and squealing that she was being squished while your teens groaned at how tight of a hug John had wrapped you all up in. After a moment you all dispersed and the kids went to the table to eat before the food got cold. John stayed next to you having you backed up against the counter so you couldn’t run away.

“So you’ve roped the kids into your little schmooze fest.” You asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Anything to show you I truly do appreciate you. I was a prick not telling you yesterday, I can’t deny that. But I have never in our marriage not appreciated everything you do for me and the kids. This ship would sink without you.” John spoke from the heart, one of his large hands cupping your cheek as his blue eyes bore into yours.

“Yeah?” You asked coyly.

“It’s you and me today. Whatever you want you’ve got me. Say the word and it’ll be done.” John was doing everything in his power to make up for his short comings.

“How about more ‘thank you’s’ and random loving gestures just because you can. Thats the stuff that matters to me not spoiling me after you’ve messed up.” You admitted which had John nodding solemnly.

“You’re right. You more than deserve that, I’ll step up my game.” His words had you smiling because it felt good to know he was listening to you. And one thing you never had to worry about with John was his follow through.

“Now, I want pancakes and I see none were made. Chop chop.” You laughed and playfully clapped your hands for your very loving and very handsome husband to get to work.

“Plain or chocolate chip?” John asked without missing a beat. Leaving you with a firm kiss to your lips he went to fish out the pancake mix from the pantry.

~~~~~tag list~~~~~

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[themissinghand]

Genshin Impact: Beneath His Gaze

Summary: In which you’re Capitano’s executive assistant who’s a little too good at their job (and coincidently, very good-looking too). 

Or, Capitano hates competition, after all, you belong to him. 

Pairing: Jealous! Il Capitano x Strong! Male Reader ft. Pantalone and Dottore 

Note: Yes. Capitano single-handedly took me out of my writer’s block. That 5.0 update was quite something. This became longer than I ever expected. 

Warning: Slight NSFW. Possessive behaviour, flirting, biting and non-consensual touching. Capitano has claws and sharp tongue.

★・・・・・・★

Il Capitano is a fearsome man. 

True to his title, he is powerful but honorable, respected yet feared by all. Perhaps it was his tall statue, the dark mysterious mask he dons, or maybe, it was his silent demeanor. 

Or perhaps his ruthless means and aura that screamed death.  

People do not simply stroll up to Capitano like they would with Tartaglia, but he detests flies regardless.

Then he met you, with almost an impressive statue matching himself, but with a much more…approachable face. Pretty as the Damselette would call you. 

You were competent, strong, and most importantly, adaptable. A face that could be remembered from either side of the light and dark. 

People described you as the face of an angel, but cunning like the devil. Hence, he promoted you to his only assistant (after all, he needs no assistants, much less bodyguards). However, you seemed to do more than what is required for a mere assistant. 

“Master. Please, have some tea.” When you bring him tea and snacks in the middle of work.

“Master, the weather is cold outside, please take this.” When you give him a heat pack, imbued with your pyro powers. 

“Master, please allow me to take care of these vermin for you.” When you reduced his anger with a slight touch on his hand on his sword, which almost would have destroyed a major section of his mansion. 

Capitano will not admit it, however, his life seems to be filled with a lot of noise, albeit it becoming much easier, and warmer.

“Don’t you think Commander (Y/N) would make a good malewife?” 

Capitano freezes in his steps. Honed in battle, naturally his senses are much more sensitive than others. 

“Are you drunk? I know you’re gay, but how could you go after the Commander? Didn’t you remember how terrifying he was when he almost worked us to death in training?”

There was a little infuriating laugh. 

“But, have you seen him smile and compliment us? Can you blame me? Have you seen others ogling at his half naked body after training? Hey, didn’t you have a crush on him?” 

“T-That was before, and quiet down. Someone might hear you.” 

“I wonder how he would taste…” Steps resumed in the halls, this time, they were quick, but silent. 

“You’re crazy. C’mon, let’s go before someone hears-” 

“Think about it, he has a big chest, and his ass-” 

“Shut up-” 

Suddenly, a large shadow casts over them and they slowly turn around, suddenly feeling cold all over. 

“Master-” 

A scream, before silence finally returned to the halls. 

“Master.” Il Capitano hands you his coat as always, often stained with blood. 

But as always, it was never his.

“Master, Allow me to serve you tea. I obtained this from Sumeru, and it has quite the enticing scent…” 

Again, you chatted as you prepared tea for Capitano, starting from small pleasantries, to his schedule and current affairs. You stood beside him as always and even though your Master did not say a single word of response to you, you knew he was listening. 

Everything was a routine and a reward to you, after all, you were very honoured to assist someone as highly regarded as Il Capitano. 

As fearsome as your Master appears, he allows you to speak your mind, and use his authority as necessary. It was difficult to obtain his trust and you were happy with your progress, even if you had to hide your disgusting feelings for him.

Yes, you had a crush on this man who everyone fears. 

After all, who doesn’t like a rich, powerful, and respected man? 

“Sit.” Suddenly, your Master commanded you. You stop in your ramblings at his command, and you obey. Respectfully seating yourself to his right with a look of quiet surprise. 

You were used to following his orders without question, but Capitano rarely asked you to sit with him like this. Normally, you were too busy managing his affairs or reporting on the state of his forces to sit idly.

As well, he did not touch his tea once today. 

Capitano’s mask obscured most of his face, but you could still feel the weight of his gaze on you, heavy and intense. It was as if he was measuring you, trying to read your thoughts, though you kept your face carefully neutral.

Finally, he took a slow sip of the tea, his silence stretching on as he continued to watch you. You shifted slightly in your seat, feeling the intensity of his focus, but you didn’t falter. After all, this was Capitano—your Master. You had served under him for years, and you pride yourself on your ability to remain composed, no matter the situation.

Finally, he spoke, his voice a low rumble. 

“Do you know what they say about you?”

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden question. 

“What do you mean, Master?”

“The Fatui agents. The ones who flirt with you. The ones who look at you as though you are theirs to claim.” Capitano’s words were clipped, and you could hear the irritation lacing his tone. 

“Do you know how they speak about you?”

Your brows furrowed as you recalled those moments. A fleeting regret crossed your mind; you should have dealt with those pests like everyone else.

After all, you’ve maintained your image and physical appearance only for your Master, and no one else. 

“Master, please forgive me, I will ensure this will not happen again. I assure you that their actions do not affect my duties.”

Capitano’s eyes darkened, his claws gripping the arm of his chair with enough force to make the wood creak. 

“That’s not what I asked.”

The tension in the room thickened, and for the first time, you felt a flicker of unease. Capitano rarely raised his voice or showed any outward signs of frustration, but now… there was something different in the air.

“I… don’t concern myself with such things, Master,” you answered carefully. “My focus is on serving you and fulfilling my responsibilities.”

He stood abruptly, his large form towering over you, casting a shadow across the room. His claws reached down, grabbing your wrist with a firm but controlled grip. 

“And yet, they continue. They think they can speak about you as if you’re theirs to take, as if they have any right.”

You looked up at him, the weight of his words sinking in. There was no mistaking the intensity in his voice, the tension that simmered just beneath the surface. It was an emotion you hadn’t expected from him, at least not toward you.

Could it be-

“Master, I—”

Before you could finish, Capitano pulled you up from your seat with one arm, his strength undeniable as he carried you effortlessly. Your breath hitched as you were suddenly pressed against his chest, the cold metal of his armor a stark contrast to the heat radiating from your body.

"You're mine," he growled, gripping your waist. "No one else can touch you."

Your heart raced in your chest as you stared up at him, mind spinning as you adjusted and adapted as you always had. 

This was new, unexpected. 

You had always been his assistant, his soldier, but now… it was clear that Capitano saw you as something more—his. 

A slow, sly smile tugged at your lips. 

“Master, I am loyal to you.”

Capitano’s grip on you tightened, his lips brushing dangerously close to your ear. 

“Then show me. Let them know you’re mine.”

His words sent a tantalizing shiver down your spine, and for the first time, you found yourself questioning whether you were just his assistant… or something far more dangerous.

In the dim light of Capitano’s private quarters, the air was thick with tension—unspoken, yet undeniably present. 

It had become a dangerous game between the two of you.

You stood by his desk, pretending to review the reports you had brought, while Capitano’s presence loomed behind you, closer than necessary. His claws brushed against your lower back, the contact brief but enough to send heat through your body. You didn't flinch; instead, you leaned into his touch ever so slightly, your pulse quickening at the daring proximity.

"You’re late," he muttered slowly, his voice like gravel, yet there was no malice in it—only something darker.

You turned to face him, a smirk dancing on your lips. 

"I had to ensure no one would notice my absence. Wouldn’t want to ruin your reputation, Master."

His eyes, cold to the world, burned with a heat only you had the privilege of seeing. Without a word, he reached for you, pulling you close with a force that left no room for protest. His lips were on yours in an instant, urgent and commanding.

His claws roamed your body, memorizing every line and muscle as if you were the only thing grounding him to this world.

"Careful, Master," you whispered against his lips, your voice teasing. "If we’re caught…"

He silenced you with another kiss, rougher this time, his grip firm as he pressed you against the desk. 

"No one will dare." 

You reveled in it all. 

As his executive assistant, your dedication to work and training had caught the attention of many, including some of the Harbingers.

One evening, after a rigorous training session with Capitano, you quickly changed to a clean appearance and immediately rushed to your Master’s office. However, it seems there were people waiting for you in the halls, which seemed to be a common occurrence recently. 

This time, it wasn’t just Fatui Cicin Mages or Agents though. Much more difficult, but not hard to handle. 

After all, you worked your way up to this position for a reason. 

“Well well well, who do we have here?” 

“Lord Dottore, Lord Pantalone. How can I be of assistance?” Dottore’s eyes gleamed with mischief as he observed you, something you were keen to notice. 

“A fine specimen indeed…” He approached you casually as you stayed still and kept your eyes low. 

Pantalone, ever the opportunist, leaned in with a sly grin. “I must say, you look like someone who could handle more than just being an assistant. I’m sure we could find a place for someone with your… capabilities.”

You pretend not to notice their serpentine eyes, or the sudden arm over your shoulder, or the slow squeeze on your bicep, and you couldn’t help but shiver when an arm grabbed your waist. 

“How about working for me? I’ll be sure to treat you well.” A seductive whisper to your ear. And you feel trapped beside these powerful men. 

Truly evil. 

You returned a little smirk, which somehow seemed to intrigue them even more. 

“I serve and am loyal to my current Master, however, I am honoured to receive your offer.” 

Before they could respond, you felt a familiar but imposing presence approaching you. Heavy steps that suddenly decided to reveal itself.  

(Y/N).” His voice was deep, drawing all eyes to him.

“Master.” You greet him as usual, and you hear a little ‘tch’ from beside you. 

The halls fell silent. Pantalone and Dottore straightened, their casual airs replaced by a more respectful demeanor. Capitano’s gaze was locked onto you, and you shivered in slight excitement knowing that he was angry.

“You’re late.” Capitano states before walking off, as if prompting you to follow him. After you bid farewell to the two other amused harbingers, who seemed quite intent in touching your muscles one last time before letting you go. 

You followed your Master down the hall into his office, the tension between you palpable.

Once the doors shut in his office, Capitano turned around, and you felt like you couldn’t move or breathe. 

“You are quite the vixen.” Sharp claws wrapped around your throat and raised you up to his eye level. 

Before you could respond, his lips crashed onto yours in a fierce, demanding kiss. The sudden intensity took you by surprise, but you quickly found yourself responding with equal fervor.

When he finally pulled away, you felt breathless as you stared back at him.

“You enjoy their attention.” he stated, disappointment evident in his voice.

“You’re mine, and yet, you dare covet something more?”

You met his gaze with a smirk, showing your true colours. 

“And if I enjoy their attention?”

Capitano’s eyes darkened further. He pulled you into another heated kiss, his claws gripping your hips firmly. You were sure that would leave some bruises.

“You must be punished.” 

“Master-urgh!” You resisted the urge to scream as sharp teeth sunk into your collarbone, and an alien tongue swept over your neck. 

It was the right choice as you felt a pair of eyes glaring at you, so you remained silent before he dropped you onto the floor. Instantly, you inhaled sharply and struggled to catch your breath as you quickly kneeled for your life.

“Please, forgive me, Master. My life is yours.”  

For Capitano, he felt a sick satisfaction seeing you beg like a little dog.

Il Capitano believed he had to tighten his leash. 

During the next few days, you did your best to focus on your work, trying to push aside the lingering tension. But you could always feel a pair of cold eyes constantly on you. Especially when you interact with other people. 

“Well, well, how is our little assistant holding up?” Pantalone grinned as he cornered you again in the hall. “How long before Capitano locks you away, hm?”

Dottore chuckled darkly, his fingers lightly trailing down your arm, sending a shiver through you. 

“The offer is still on the table. We’d take good care of you,” he said, his voice dripping with false sweetness. “You’d be in much better hands.”

With the same fake yet alluring smile, you slowly back away from their touch. You didn’t need to say anything after all, you could practically feel him coming.

The familiar sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the corridor.

In an instant, Capitano was beside you, his claws gripping your shoulders firmly. Without a word, he pulled you away from the two Harbingers, his strength overwhelming as he practically dragged you down the hall. Pantalone and Dottore watched with amusement, smirking at the sight of Capitano’s thinly veiled rage.

You didn’t even have a chance to speak as Capitano led you into his private quarters and slammed the door shut behind you. His breathing was heavy, and his eyes—what little you could see through his mask—burned with a mixture of anger and desire.

“You’re mine,” Capitano reminded, his voice low and dangerous. 

Before you could respond, he lifted you with ease, your feet leaving the ground as he pinned you against the wall. His massive claws gripped your waist and ass, claws digging into your flesh as his lips crushed against yours in a kiss.

You gasped into the kiss, and wrapped your legs around him. He clawed at your chest as if he was trying to prove a point—that you belonged to him and no one else, and you whimpered when you felt pain.

And despite everything, you found yourself leaning into him, drawn to the darkness that radiated from him.

"Master, I'm yours."

His touch was intoxicating, and even though you knew how dangerous this was, you couldn’t help but be pulled deeper into the web Capitano had spun around you.

[0mg-bird]

A Tornado Warning~ T. Owens x Fem! Reader

Summary: Domestic life with you isn’t something Tyler could ever get tired of when you’re practically his twin flame.

Warnings: Language, storms, smut 18+

A/n: Inspired by the Turnpike song above. Read as a part 2 to Sunrise.

Laid back in two cheap lawn chairs, both you and Lilly sit in bikinis and jean cut offs, tanning under the Arkansas sun. Sunglasses on, beers in hand, a small radio on the ground next to your feet, the afternoon was coming on just fine.

Inside, Dani is tinkering with something that makes her cuss every ten minutes. You tried to drag her out for some good ol’ sunny D but she fought you on it.

Bringing a cold Coors to your lips, you finish the last few drinks of it and crush the can, tossing it back into the little red cooler before turning the music up.

When the idea was originally brought up that the sum of you should just buy a house and make it the permanent wrangler camp, it was a big uncertainty. Then you came across the charming farm house and all of you were sold.

The barn was the designated research and tinker area, the camper trailer parked in the driveway was where Dexter stayed when he wasn’t home with his family. Other than that, Dani and Lilly shared the large downstairs room, Boone- who would sleep anywhere- finally has his own room upstairs. Tyler and you slept in the upstairs master room at the end of the hall, and to say the least, you were happy it wasn’t a crappy motel.

You still chased, but it wasn’t life on the road anymore. It was a real career now, not just a hobby job. Your crew was a main source of information to local tech businesses that develop advanced warning signals and bunkers. You raise money for cities hit, get hands on when you can.

The viewers love the vlogs.

You settled into the life well.

The rumble of an all too familiar truck doesn’t even make you open your eyes, not until your sunlight is blocked by the form of your boyfriend.

“What are y’all doin’?” Tyler asks with humor in his voice.

You and Lilly pull your sunglasses down to look at both him and Boone who had just gotten back from town.

“Trying to tan before your big head blocked our UV rays.” You answer smartly.

“Why are y’all oily?” Boone asks, swiping his finger down Lilly’s arm, making her smack him.

“It’s tanning oil.” She scoffs.

Boone wipes the grease on his shirt that says ‘Science Is Fun’. “You sit out here and fry like bacon for fun?” He asks.

“Boone, baby, anyone ever tell yuh it’s a good thing you’re pretty?” You ask, confusing him slightly.

“Whatever.” He shrugs and snags the last beer from the cooler.

That leaves Ty.

He wears a stupid smile at the bikini tied around you. It was apart of the new merch line, which meant it had his face printed all over it.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” You laugh, leaning your head back, missing the way Tyler pulls his phone out and does just that.

“What’s for supper?” He asks as you wipe sweat from your forehead.

“I don’t know, what’re you cookin’, good lookin’?” You ask, taking your glasses off and checking the time. You’ve been at it for about two and a half hours, it might be time to call it a day.

Tyler hums. “Cowboy chili?”

You frown.

“Burgers?”

You grin. “Great idea.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “Go wash up and I’ll get it started.”

You stand, kissing him gently quickly. “You’re perfect. Keep acting like this and I might just marry you.” You tease with a wink.

He leans closer, briefly sniffing you. “You smell like coconuts and Coors Banquets.” He states with a smirk.

“I smell like your dream girl.” You state back, poking his chest before you collapse your chair and grab the speaker while Lilly grabs the cooler.

In the shower, washing oils from your skin and lathering your hair, you have a slight tingle in your gut. When you shut the water off and wrap a towel around you, you go to the window and open it up.

Out in the distance, big thunder heads are forming. You grin like a kid on Christmas and smell the air. It’s damp and tangy, rain should be falling in the next hour or so.

Walking into the connected bedroom, you dress in some shorts and one of Tyler’s college tees. It’s when you comb your hair that you look at the framed photos on the wall of the two of you. Rocky, the dog that is still alive and well, pushes open the cracked door and comes to hop on the bed.

“Did Ty kick you outa the kitchen, buddy?” You pout and scratch his head.

He too pouts and rolls over for you to rub his belly.

“Don’t worry kid, a storms coming, ain’t you excited?” You ask, obviously getting no response.

Trotting down the stairs, your phone buzzes in your hand with the first sever thunderstorm warning.

The weather report is on the living room tv where Boone and Dani sit. You sit on the arm of the chair where Boone is.

“Whatcha’ think about it, Tex?” Dani asks you.

You look at the patterns on the screen. “I’m thinkin’ we’ll get some high winds, maybe a barely registered EF1 at most, but the way the wind is shifting, I think it’ll hit back county roads and dissipate within ten minutes.”

Boone agrees with you. “I say we sit back and enjoy this one.”

“I’m with you there, buddy.” You smile, ruffling his hair before getting up.

You head into the kitchen where Tyler is seasoning the burger patties at the island counter. Your hand runs over his back as you pass behind him to assemble the rest of the things needed for a meal.

“Storm’s rollin’ in.” You say with a smile.

“That explains your good mood.” He chuckles, tossing a towel onto his shoulder.

You lay out burger buns and condiments. “I couldn’t ask for better weather, you know that.” You lightly giggle, opening up the pickle jar and eating one.

Tyler watches you with a look of affection, then kisses the top of your head. “Some might say you’re insane, darlin’.”

You finish up your original task. “Only partially.” You say, going to meet him at the grill on the covered deck outside.

He begins to cook up the burgers while you lean against the banister and look out at the cloud covered sky. A light rain is falling now, getting caught in your hair as it blows in.

Most would be inside to keep dry.

Not Tyler’s girl. No, he knows you’d stand in the flat plains and wait for the lighting to come down.

As he flips the patties, you come lean against his back, your cheek against the fabric of his button down as you take in the scent of him.

“You happy?” You ask, making him reach down and hold one of your hands.

“Like this? Yeah…” He says with a smirk. “But what would make me even happier…”

He guides your hand down past his buckle, and you scoff and pull away, slapping his shoulder as he laughs.

“You pig.” You shake your head. “I meant are you happy with life and how you’re living it.”

Tyler stacks the perfectly grilled burgers back onto the tray. “Of course I’m happy. I’m doing what I love, I have a place of my own and a bed that doesn’t creek. Then, I lay next to you at night and always end up between your legs. Life is great.”

You blush and take the tray from him. “Glad there isn’t anything you’d like to change.” You say, turning for the back door that goes into the kitchen.

“Well, I’d change the fact that the crew sleeps under our roof, but life isn’t fair.” He states, following after you.

“It’s their roof too, you can’t just kick ‘em out. What would Boone do without you tucking him into bed?” You snicker.

“Baby, I’d tell Boone to get lost in a heartbeat if it meant it’d just be you and me, doing it in every single room.” He whispers into your ear, causing you to laugh loudly and shove him back.

“Y’all come eat!” You call out loudly to the cree, then turn back to Tyler. “You behave yourself.”

He pulls the finger you point at him, and tucks you under his arm for a moment.

It’s common for relationships to get slow and boring after being together for a long while. Couples don’t try as hard, the spark isn’t the same.

Tyler can’t imagine that, not when you’re the kerosene to feed the flame. He’s so in love with you, he doesn’t even know a version of life where he doesn’t have the dynamic he has.

Gathered around the wood table, all of you chatter about various things. Lilly frowns as she drips barbecue sauce onto the shirt with your cartoon face on it.

Yet another merch item you designed.

It has the words ‘Tex Knows Her Tornados’ printed on it.

You give Rocky part of your burger and Tyler scolds you, saying you spoil him too much. You just glare and say that Rocky deserves some good food too.

Tyler thinks you’re ridiculous.

Country music is playing in the background as all of you move to the front porch, waiting for the sky to come falling down and watching data streams come in. The house is lit up orange with all the lights on, contrasting against the sky. The rain hits harder now, it’s cold as it blows in, making you curl into Tyler’s side.

“You ain’t gonna go dancing in it?” Boone asks you, camera pointed at your shaking frame.

“Hell naw, I’ll freeze my ass off.” You laugh. “How about you drag your pretty self out there? I’ll record you.”

As you reach for the camera, Boone pulls away and retreats.

Thunder shakes, the pang of the thick rain drops hitting the tin roof is almost its own song.

“Come on, Tex, before you get washed away.” Tyler pulls you back inside with the others.

The crew has a grand time with the music playing loudly and the way you have to yell over the storm. The shadow of you and Tyler two-stepping in the kitchen, moves around the walls like a painting.

You let yourself imagine life further as you follow Tyler’s lead. You’ve been with the crew for so long, would you stay with them forever? Would nights continue to look like this if you and Tyler were married? If you had a kid?

That’s a scary thought.

Marriage and babies.

He looks down at you know when he noticed you stopped giggling. “You tired?” He asks.

You simply nod along, not wanting to yell your thoughts out.

He pulls back, announcing that the two of you were going up to bed. They all shout goodnight and go back to what they were doing before, turning the music down a few notches out of curtesy.

You pass your passed out pup in his bed at the top of the stairs where he likes to guard things. He’s fat and happy, you don’t bother him.

All downstairs sounds are muffled as the bedroom door shuts. Tyler kicks off his boots and watches you pull the covers back on the bed. Shimmying out of your shorts, you fully intend on going to bed.

Tyler doesn’t like that idea.

“Do I dare ask what’s on your pretty mind?” He asks, unbuttoning his shirt and unbuckling his belt.

You sigh. “Just thinking about the next five years.”

He shakes his head in confusion. “Why?” He questions.

You just shrug and slide onto the soft mattress. “Why not?”

Once he’s in his boxers, he joins you. “Don’t think of the next five years when we don’t even know what we’re eating for breakfast come morning.” He smiles. Immediately, his hands are pulling you close, his lips are kissing yours smoothly. He pushes your hair out of your face before moving down to your jaw line and neck.

“What has gotten into you?” You laugh as he rolls you onto your back.

“What? Blame the weather.” He grins as he cages you in.

As he kisses you again, hands pushing your t shirt up, you smirk at the need he’s progressing with.

“The crew is still awake.” You remind.

“The storm’s so loud they won’t even know.” Tyler states, moving to kiss your stomach.

Your hands play with his hair, you lay back and listen to the storm crash over the house as he pulls your underwear off and dives between your thighs.

The subtle anxiety of what life can turn in to is gone now as the warm pleasure washes over you from his mouth perfectly against your core. Your head digs into the pillow, you’re biting your lip at the amount of stimulation coursing through you. You pant out, deciding that you weren’t going to be patient all night.

You drag him back up to you, becoming the needy one now. Your shirt is tossed onto the floor, soon accompanied by his boxers. Anywhere you can touch him, that’s where you do. Fingers gripping into his biceps as he pushes into you, you let out a gasp of relief, matching the one he gives.

“Fuck, this feels good.” You praise, hitching your knees up to lock his hips in, pushing him further into you.

As he completely bottoms out, Tyler lets his head drop onto your chest for a moment while he gathers himself. No matter how many time you two do this, it’s still a crazy good feeling.

He slowly kisses your chest, sucking over the curves of your breasts as he pulls almost all the way out, then sinks back into you swiftly.

Thunder cracks loudly, making you yelp in surprise, then laugh. He looks down at you in humor as he adjusts his pace, making it slow and sweet at first, then moving onto more demanding thrusts that make you moan out loudly. He’s trying to hit as deep as possible, but the way you’re holding him close to you is making it hard to focus.

The way your skin rubs against his makes him feel like he’s on fire.

One hand intertwines with yours and he lays it on the pillow, breathing hard as he thrusts against the walls clenching around him.

You squeeze his hand. “God, I love this.” You say with an open mouth.

He proudly smirks. “Yeah? You love when I fuck you so sweetly?”

You groan out. “I just love when you’re fucking me. Doesn’t matter how…or where.”

“Fuck.” He curses, his dick twitching inside of you. He’s stealing your breath for his own now, you think he might just inhale you if he could, given the way he devours your mouth.

His hips rut against you, the tip of him presses against a sensitive spot inside of you that makes your voice break.

“More.” You beg, letting go of his hand and sitting up.

In an instant, Tyler has you flipped onto your stomach, his hands pulling your ass to him. You look back at him as he slides back into your aching walls, softly whimpering as he hits differently.

He pulls your hair to one shoulder, then leans to kiss the bare skin as he drives into you.

You look to the window, the way rain pours down it.

He’s pulling you back to meet his deep thrusts, his head falls back as he gets lost in the feeling.

“You like it like this?” He asks, making you nod feverishly, voice getting raw from the way he’s drawing moans from you.

“Ty.” You call out, gripping the sheets with a smile as you feel your orgasm building

“Good girl, say my name.” He pants, grip tightening on your hips.

“Tyler.” You breathe, thighs beginning to shake.

He knows your body as well as he knows his own, he knows the way your lower lip quivers and the way you get pulses through you that you’re getting close.

He lets out a whine, a childish grunt when he determines he wants to see your face when you cum.

“What’s wrong, baby?” You ask, barely coherent.

He doesn’t answer with words, just pulls out of you and flips you back over so fast, your head spins. Within a second, he’s already back inside of you where he should be, grasping your thigh as he coaxes you further and further to your finish.

“I need to see you when you cum for me, sweetheart. I need it.” He pants, sucking at your neck, hitting all the spots he knows makes your throat go dry.

“Fuck, you’re so hot.” You heave, breathing hard into his hair.

Your toes curl, your hands getting a death grip on his skin. Tyler pulls back to gaze down at you, eyes lit up wide, knowing your orgasm is going to wreck you.

“Come on, cum for me, beautiful. I got you.” He soothes.

One hand on his bicep, the other on his jaw line, you try to ground yourself but the way you’re swept away is out of your control.

“Fuck, I’m so close.” He pants, voice gravely and raw.

Your eyes squeeze shut, the knot in your stomach tight as you finally fall over the edge.

“Ty!” You cry out, the waves of hot arousal finally washing over you.

He strokes your hair out of your face, so close to his own release but guiding you through your own.

You’re coming down with a sob, your bottom lip quivering and your chest heaving as he buries his face into the crook of your neck and fucks you through his own release.

Your head pounds at the overstimulation for a moment, but you’re coherent enough to whisper to him as he comes down from the high.

“I love you so much.” You remind, shaky hands smoothing his crazed hair.

Your swollen lips kiss the side of his head before he turns to meet with his.

“Shit.” He pants into your skin, slowly adjusting his weight on top of you.

Tyler wears the same smile you do, trying to get his muscles to stop buzzing before he slowly lifts off of you.

He looks down, watching as he slowly pulls out of you and sees the mess between your legs. He’s dripping down your thighs, and you’re whimpering that he’s not inside of you anymore.

Pressing a kiss to your knee, he promises to be back in just a second. He cleans himself up, then comes back from the bathroom with a warm washcloth.

Your arm lays over your wide eyes as he cleans the mess gently, the storm isn’t so violent now, it’s settled on a steady rain and softer thunder.

Ty helps you to the bathroom and back, then pulls the covers over the two of you back in bed.

Arm around his middle, head on his chest, you fall into a comfortable silence. His thumb rubs your shoulder, eyes about to shut from the way your warm hand moves to slide up and down his stomach. Then, your loss for words passes you and you’re back to being your normal self.

“You ever scared that you’ll get me pregnant?” You ask, making Tyler’s eyes snap back open.

“What?” He clears his throat.

“You ever scared that you’ll get me pregnant?” You repeat your words.

He tries to find an answer that won’t piss you off, but he isn’t sure what will and what won’t. You know his silence well, so you add onto the question.

“There’s no right or wrong answer, cowboy.”

Ty wraps his arm around a little tighter around your shoulders. “Yeah, sometimes. When we were on the road, I was terrified of it, actually.”

“Really?” You hum. “And what about now?”

He takes in a breath. “Now, I don’t really think about it…I mean, we aren’t doing a lot of things to prevent it.”

You laugh. “The pill thing isn’t important when you have life saving research to do.”

Tyler shakes his head at you. “It made you kind of moody anyway.”

You smack his chest, making him claim he was kidding.

“I guess I could ask you the same question.” He says. “You scared I’ll get you pregnant?”

You move your hand back to its original place on his stomach. “I really don’t know. I mean, we aren’t kids anymore so I guess it wouldn’t be horrible if it happened but…we’re just so busy.”

He agrees. “And we aren’t really married.”

You strain your neck to look at him. “Does that matter to you?”

He looks down at you. “Does it matter to you?”

You hold his gaze, then look away. “I don’t know that either…”

Silence between you, rain above you.

Tyler sighs, letting his thumbs motion on your skin continue despite your goosebumps. “I’m not scared of commitment if that’s what you’re wondering. You want me to marry you? We’ll go to the courthouse tomorrow. You want babies, I’ll give them to you. Anything you want, I promise I’ll give it to you.” He says in such a serious tone, you feel your throat start to swell and your eyes burn.

You smile then kiss his chest. “You’re sweet on me like a bear to a beehive.”

Tyler grins. “I still have no clue what’s coming out of your mouth.”

“That’s okay, cowboy, as long as you can understand me saying I love you, we’re fine.” You say softly.

And you two fall asleep like that, tangled up together. Any movement you make throughout the night, you don’t get too far before Tyler’s gripping you warmly and dragging you back to his skin.

Come morning, birds are singing praise and the wind is gentle. You wake on your side, facing him, legs tangled together. He looks like a puppy when he’s asleep, all calm and soft. The broken morning light paints him a warm golden color, you reach out and push his hair away gently. He stirs slightly, his eyes drag open to see you against a backdrop of a simple shade of blue.

The sky outside the window is clear, you’re looking at him with affection, he wouldn’t want anything else.

“Mornin’.” You smile.

“Good morning.” He says with sleep still in his voice.

[dragonakito360]

Hello bestie ;33 HEHDHEHJW

Anyways, i wish for a doflamingo x fem!reader smut. Reader is the favorite toy (if u can say) that doffy wants to play with, like the other ladies that are in the palace he doesn’t want them, only the reader. Maybe some soft doffy (im a sucker 👉👈)

Also with a hint of misuse of devil fruit, aka bondage🥰

Laced up Nice and Pretty

{ THIS IS AN 18+ NSFW WORK, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT }

⋆｡°✩ Pairing: Donquixote Doflamingo x Reader

⋆｡°✩ Summary: Doflamingo finds his favourite toy all dolled up for him, and he couldn’t resist the urge to take her.

⋆｡°✩ Content Tags: P in V sex, bondage, improper use of Devil Fruit Ability, Possessive!Doffy, a bit of dacryphilia, spanking, degradation, Soft!Doffy and a bit of aftercare at the end

⋆｡°✩ Word Count: 1,350 Words

⋆｡°✩ Lorekeeper's Notes: Thank you for the request! I am in love with that blond man too 🫶 I have not written smut in a long while, hope you guys still enjoy the story regardless!

It was no secret among the Donquixote Pirates that Doflamingo had women in the castle that he favoured. They were his toys, ready to attend to his carnal pleasures whenever he desired. He used them however he pleased, chasing after his own high and leaving the women to care for themselves in the aftermath. But it was no secret either that he had a clear favourite, and it was you. It hadn’t been long since you came to work under him, yet everyone knew of his attraction to you. He sought your company far more than he did the others, gifting dresses that he would tear off your body, and he would take the time to attend to you once the act was over.

Doflamingo walked down the castle halls, heading out to the garden for fresh air. That was when he spotted you, dressed in the new clothes he had gifted. It was a tight outfit, hugging your body just right as lace frills accented the piece, leaving nothing to the imagination. It was more similar to lingerie than any actual dress. He licked his lips, grinning as he watched you lean up to clean the decor of the palace. He snuck up from behind, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you against him.

“What a pleasure it is to see you, doll.” Doflamingo whispered in your ear. “Did you dress yourself up all for me? I gifted this just the other day, it’s a shame for me to rip it so soon.”

“Young master, I-” You try to speak, only for Doflamingo to cut you off.

“The chores can wait, I need you now.” He placed emphasis on the last word, making you understand that there was no room for argument. Not that you would have, you were always so willing to please him. He could feel your body give in, his laugh echoing slightly in the sparse hall. “That’s a good girl.”

Doflamingo brought you to his room, sitting on the lavish couch as you stood in front of him. You felt like a prey watched by a predator, his lustful gaze watching your every move, every squirm of your body as you stared back, trying to read his expression. But all you could see was that mischievous grin as leaned back in his seat, gesturing towards you.

“Go on, put on a show for your king, doll. Show me that body of yours, before I rip that dress off myself.” You nodded at his words and unzipped the dress, letting it cascade off your shoulders. You held it up, giving Doflamingo just a peek of your breasts. He watched with anticipation as the dress fell to the floor, leaving you bare, save for the thin, lace undergarments. You approached him, letting your hips sway and running your hands down your body, accentuating your body.

Suddenly, you feel a pull tug your body. Before you could comprehend what had happened, your body had become suspended in the air by Doflamingo’s strings. You were face down, wrists tied above your head, back arched and legs spread, leaving room for Doflamingo to step between them. The man laughed as he tore your underwear with his strings, eyes focused on your pussy as it clenched on air, begging for his touch. He came up behind you, leaning over your body as you turned to face him.

“Please, please Doffy.” You begged, wanting him to just take you then and there. Doflamingo laughed once more, grabbing your chin.

“Making demands of me, darling? You should know your place.” His free hand slapped your ass, rubbing it soothingly as you squirmed. “I saw you and Diamante earlier today. Did you like spending time with him, hm? Did you think I wouldn’t know you were whoring yourself for him? And now you want me to fuck you on my cock? You filthy slut.” He slapped your rear again, rubbing the red, sore spot. “Did you forget who you belong to?”

“N-No, Doffy, I swear. I wasn’t doing anything with Diamante.” You pleaded, trying to convince him of your innocence. And truthfully, he knew you had nothing to hide. But he wanted to play with you for a while longer. He pulled on your body, lifting it upward and pressing your back flat against his chest. he freed his hard cock out his pants, shoving the garment down and kicking it aside. He rubbed it against your pussy, the tip teasing your clit. You let out a soft, shaky breath as he chuckled.

“I think I need to remind you of who you belong to, who this pussy belongs to.” He grinned and thrusted up into your cunt, the tip of his cock pushing in. You let out a loud, strained moan as he continued to push in. “Fuck, your pussy’s so tight! Relax for me, doll. You’re taking me all the way in.”

Doflamingo pulled your body down onto his cock, one hand caressing your breasts and the other on your clit, making delicious moans spill from your mouth. Once he was fully sheathed inside of you, he took a moment to admire the view, your hips flushed against his as your body trembled. Only you could take in all of him, unlike the other women. It was like your cunt was made for him. He thrusted slowly, teasingly, keeping what you both desire just barely out of reach. He then rutted into you at an animalistic pace, laughing between his grunts as he felt the bulge at your stomach.

“Feel that, darling? No other man can make you feel this satisfied.” He held onto your hips, as he thrusted hard into you, grip bruising your skin. He smirked as he felt your warm walls clench on his cock, and he started to slow down to bring you to the brink of orgasm, only to stop.

“Doffy, Doffy p-please.” You begged, trying to move back into him as tears pooled in your eyes. His grin widened, cock twitching at the sight of your plight.

“Aw, does my darling want to cum? Then beg for it. Tell me how much you want my dick.” He grinned mischievously as he held you firmly in place.

“P-Please, Doffy! Let me cum! Only you can make me feel this good!” You cried, hoping it was enough to convince him. Thankfully, it was. Doflamingo snapped his hips against yours, bringing you to the edge once again.

“That’s right, only I can make you feel this good.” He chuckled under his breath. “This is my pussy, do you understand? No one’s allowed to fuck you except for me.”

“Yours, Doffy! Yours!” You felt his cock twitch and your walls tighten its grip. With a pleasured cry, you came undone, your juices all over his cock and balls. He came not long after, spilling his warm seed into your cunt. After rutting in a few more times he pulled out, admiring the view of your hole and his cum dripping out.

“You did so good for me, doll. You always do.” He cooed, releasing the strings that held you. He tossed you onto the bed, his touch gentle and warm. As you laid on your back to get comfortable, he called for a maid to bring over a towel. He wiped off your sweat, kissing your body and the marks left behind from the last time you both had sex. He was pleased to see them, still visible, showing everyone you’re his. “You’re gorgeous, doll.” He praised softly and kissed your lips. He tossed the towel aside and got off the bed, tidying himself up in the mirror and putting on his pants. “Get yourself dressed, you still have work to do.”

“Yes, young master.” You responded weakly, throat hoarse from your cries. Despite the command, you knew he wouldn’t mind if you took some time to rest. He looked at you with a grin, placing a kiss to your lips before leaving.

[fawninthesnow]

𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬

𐙚 Emperor/Prince Geta x Fem! Reader 𐙚 18+

Summary: As Geta's childhood best friend, you two have been through everything together. One night, the Prince decides to run away with you.

Warnings/contains: Prince Geta AU, virgins, losing virginity, first time, nipple play, sexual tension, biting, friends with benefits, not proof read-- english is not my first language!

Word Count: 3k // More on my Master list! + follow & reblog pls

A/n: All characters are 18 and up during any smut scenes!!!

In many ways, you were his first.

He pulled your hand along as you two ran barefoot through the palace. Your dress and robe flowed behind you as your shadows stretched over the walls and sacred treasures around the palace. “Geta? Where are we going?”

“Just come!”

**

Years ago, you hid behind your mother’s leg, holding onto her gown. “[Y/n]. Go play.” She kissed your cheek, and you stepped back further. “Darling?”

“I don’t want to!”

“Listen.” She kneeled to your height. “The princes need…playmates! Ok? If the royal family likes you— us both, then you get to have a friend forever, darling.” You knew that look in your mother’s eyes. She was desperate. There were nights where she would starve so you could eat the scraps she stole from the palace. Being a servant for the royal family was not easy. “Play nicely and you’ll have anything and everything you could ever want.”

“You too?” You asked. Your mother nodded with her gentle smile. “Okay.”

“When you are done, we can go straight home! Sound ok?” You agreed and stepped inside of the room filled with toys, other girls dressed in the purest of white dresses and laughter. Most of the girls played with each other, paying the princes no mind. Mothers waited in the halls, mumbling prayers to themselves, hoping that their daughters would be fit for the role.

You kneeled beside one of the boys, “…want to trade?” The boy with a full head of red curls looked at you and the toy in your hand. Your father had hand-carved it with the wood from a fallen tree. In his hands was a gold necklace with a large pearl at its center. You nodded. He looked behind him at his father and his advisor. “What is your name?”

“Geta. Your name?”

“[Y/n]. Where did you get this? From your mommy?” He shook his head. “It looks expensive.”

“I do not remember.” He giggled. You sat beside him, admiring the jewelry. “Do you want to see someone?” You tilted your head and from his wide sleeves, he retrieved a green freckled lizard. A giggle left your mouth as he placed it on your shoulder.

**

*Present*

“Geta!” You yelped as he brought you to the stone gazebo. Inside glowed a small lantern fire. You kneeled with him, and he laughed rather nervously.

“I have been thinking, [y/n]. I know we are getting older; Caracalla and I are to take the throne soon. But…we should run away together.” He blurted. Your smile began to melt, “[Y/n], I am ready.”

“No, no. You are only nervous. That is all!” Your smile, holding his face in your hands as he shakes his head.

“You know me better than anyone else. I am not nervous—“

“You are ambitious! That will be perfect for when you are crowned.” You smile, moving closer against him. “You are simply changing. We both are but not enough to run away.”

“You are not listening, [Y/n]. I know what I want.”

“But leaving your brother?! Our friends? Your throne?” He only smiled. There was no changing his mind. Of course, he cared about his brother and other responsibilities but in the slightest, he needed a break. You fixed the tilted crown on his head.

“Please come with me. You’re my dearest friend…I wouldn’t imagine leaving you here.” You stood from the ground.

“I don’t know.” You shook your head. “This would cause a panic in the empire.”

“We will call it a trip until then. Just traveling!” You touched your necklace, and he moved in front of you, searching your expression.

“They won’t allow that.”

He sighed, “I am not leaving without you, [Y/n].”

Your gentle fingers caressed his face, the warm rings on your hand shined against his brown eyes. The young man leaned into your touch without hesitation. “You know I will follow wherever you go.” You smirked and he wrapped his arms around you. For a moment, his lips hesitated by yours, his eyes on the two-toned lips. You moved back from him and moved hair behind your ear. “Ahem.”

“W- we should leave tomorrow tonight.” His hand brushed your long hair as your hands joined. A warm wave of excitement and anxiety ran through his body. Was he even ready for this commitment?! Yes! He whispered to himself to stay calm. Your hand in his helped him stay grounded. This was worth it. You were worth it.

The next evening, you both hid under the palace inside of the emperors’ archives as everyone went to sleep. Around an hour after midnight, he helped you onto a horse with a few satchels of food and clothes. You held onto his sides as the horse quietly left out the back gate.

After a while of traveling, you two came up on a river through the woods. You tied the horse to a nearby tree and sat with Geta in the undergrowth. Your fingers trembled with fear and excitement— “I can’t believe we…we did it.”

“We did.” He giggled. “I feel…better than ever!” You shyly smiled and washed your hands in the water. “Thank you for joining me, Y/n. You make me feel how a man should.” He said with sarcasm as he pushed away his blade to start a fire.

“Ahh, you lie.” you push his arm. “I am only doing this, so you don’t kill yourself on your lonesome. This empire is not all Rome. There is danger where you expect.” You warned him, as you ate food from a satchel.

“You know best.” He whispered as the flames sparked and caught on the dry leaves and sticks.

“I do.” You said with a chuckle. When you laughed, your bosom moved gently beneath your clothes. He averted his gaze. “Your birthday is coming up! You did not want to wait until then to leave?”

“Tsk, I care not of mediocre celebrations and repetitive gifts.” The man chuckled, “You do though.”

“Mediocre?!” You scoffed. “Of course I do. I am a lady of the court, and I help organize such things.” You sounded rather offended.

“My friend, I meant no harm.” You wondered why that label ‘friend’ made your heart feel so…uneasy. You looked at the fire as you two sat beside each other. His comforting, and large hand rubbed your thigh gently. “So, what are you leaving behind?” Your fingertips traced the back of his scarred knuckles.

“Nothing…my mom is gone. There’s nothing there. I mean, there is you, but you are beside me.”

“You have changed, my heart.” You felt heat rise in your cheeks and core. “Not in a bad manner. I mean, you have grown.”

“So have you.” You smirk, tossing more dried leaves into the fire. “I watch you train.” You gently touched his bruised knuckles and down the hair of his forearm. “For what exactly are you preparing for?”

“For…myself.” He said softly, “You watch me?” He asked, thinking back to the times he figured he were alone. You could recall watching him from behind the curtains or beyond the terraces in the palace. You nodded, placing your chin into your hand. “Well, you do a form of ‘training’.” Your head tilted in confusion. “They speak of you as if you are some sort of general running that court.” You two share a laugh as his hand rubbed further up your leg. “I mean it.”

“You listen whenever I am mentioned so I have no doubts.”

He leaned onto you, his nose against your neck. “You smell like a woman. You look like a woman.” You chuckled as he took deeper inhales of your scent. “I mean it. I am older than you but when I look at you...”

 “I look nothing like the ‘ideal’ Roman woman.”  You watched as your friend shook his head.

“I did not notice.” He said back to you as you both pressed together. His lips pressed against the back of your hand. You had not noticed your fingers against his chest, your hand inside the folds of his clothes. “You are perfect to me, [Y/n].”

He leaned closer towards you, “I- but I am not betrothed to you! We cannot do this! I was not chosen!” Your eyes seemed to water as you moved away from him. He followed you into the darkness of trees. “I am your friend, remember?” You asked spitefully.

“That was not my choice!”

“I didn’t say that it was.”

He wiped the salty tears from under your eyes. “I do not need the courts to know who I love or why! You know you love me, Y/n. Show me. Please.”

You turned to him, “This is my life you are speaking of! I could be crucified for this! Stripping each other of purity before your wedding.”

“That is not what I’m asking. No one will know. Just- just kiss me.” You brought him to you, trapping him between your body and a tree bark. His eyes lulled back as your soft curves pressed onto him. Your lips pressed deeply onto his; his tongue explored your mouth passionately without any restraint as he pulled at your gown. By his hand, your left leg raised up on his hip with a swiftness—

You pulled away from him and caught your breath. Pants left your mouths as you both leaned back against trees. “I am nervous…I will get carried away, Geta.” You shook your head, “We should just go home. Geta.” You took his hand into yours and found his sorrowful eyes.

“No. No, I will not. We cannot go back! I- I am sorry if you want to leave because of me but-“

“No, that is not why. I think we are not ready. To run away or…uhm” You felt his hand squeeze yours tightly.

“I am.” He said firmly as you squeezed his hand back with a plead.

“Geta.” The prince sighed and joined you again by the fire. “We should have spoken more about this. W- we cannot leave. The only life we know is one of luxury and convenience! Geta.” You hold his face in your hands; just looking in his eyes was more intimate than you could handle after what occurred. He leaned closer to you and placed a kiss on your lips. For a moment, you were stunned for a short while; he went in for another kiss. Your eyes shut and Geta’s hands held the back of your head, his fingers sunk into the dark curls.

On the ride back to the palace a few moments later, you stayed silent. He tried to think of something, anything to speak of to make you open up again but nothing came to mind. As you held onto his waist, your hips against his body, you felt only shame. How could you?! Even contemplating giving yourself to him! Well, in adolescence, you had a crush on him, sure. Then, you would fall asleep to the thought of marrying him, but it was just a dream; just a crush.

If so, then why at the age of eighteen did your cheeks flush; your body so mindlessly falling into his hands?

Back in your quarters, you lay on your back inside of the sunken bed. Blankets enveloped you like a nest—you were more than comfortable but you could not rest. You rose to your knees and pressed your ear against the wall that connected you and Geta’s rooms. There was only silence in the palace, making you lose confidence. You should just lay back down! Go to sleep and handle the court in the morning but…

You stepped outside of your quarters and was met by Geta in a cherry red robe. “Oh. I was-“ He raised a glass of water.

“I cannot rest.”

“Should I read to you?” You were used to him doing this whenever you needed it but—He did not wait for you to answer, instead, he took you hand and shut you both inside of your quarters. You climbed into bed with him; from your bedside table, he took a thick scroll into his hands.

He said nothing as your body leaned on top of his, tucked comfortably beside him. When he read to you, his palm rubbed your thigh gently. “I am sorry for making us turn back.”

“…no, you were right. We should not have left.” He muttered.

He continued to caress your leg-- “Do you think that…others, the servants, our friends, your family-- know we are friends?” You asked.

“I do not suppose many would believe that.”

“Are you in love with me, Geta?” He looked into your eyes and pondered his reply. Of course he was! But what if you were to reject him? What if everything he had felt for so long manifested into nothing?

“I am and I have been for years.” He exhaled deeply through his mouth. The air was caught between your embrace as you kissed him for the fourth time tonight. “It took a lot to admit that.” His cheeked burned red as you smiled and moved hair from your face. You two only stared into each other’s eyes, thinking of the same thing.

“W- we cannot have sex.” You whispered as he pushed the scroll to the end of the bed with his foot. A short gasp left your lips as he peeled away the folds of your night robe and exposed your breasts.

“You are breathtaking.” The curves of your breasts filled his palms as he sunk lower in bed and pulled you on top of him. His voice sounded different than you were used to; it was so seductive and tempting. From that point on, you wanted everything he had to offer for as long as possible. He gently massaged your breasts; his eye contact was rather controlling. Your hips rolled over his lap, and you tried your best to resist taking him.

He held your left breast in your hand and gently flicked your nipple. Your spine arched in surprise; this feeling was something new. Of course, you had explored yourself before but his lips, his warm saliva and careful tongue was—Geta gently sucked on your breast as his fingers tended to your other. “Nggh!” You leaned away from his touch—

“Does that hurt?”

“No, no, it feels nice.” He then pulled you against him once again. Beneath you, his firm cock pressed against your cunt through the fabrics of his clothes. He started his suckles off gentler than before and rocked you over his hard shaft. Your eyes rolled back as the man unintentionally stimulated your clitoris. Not unlike a current, he continued his motions against you. Geta was hungry for you; he has never experienced a lust like this before. He craved for you to consume him and take him whole. You had him like no other could; whatever you wanted, he would do without a second thought and the best part was that you felt the same.

You pushed away the clothes that hid his manhood and your womanhood. When your palm wrapped around his shaft, a deep moan felt his throat. He pushed your forearm away. “I was only going to hold it.” You whispered. He nodded and allowed you to feel his cock gently. Your fingers ran over the tip of his cock and down his veins to his base. You bit your lip for a moment as the messy precum from his cock covered your fingertips.

His brown eyes searched yours for approval before he ran his fingers over your pussy. You twitched as he gently held your clitoris. He quickly let go of the sensitive flesh and moved down to your soaked opening. You could only stare in his eyes as he guided your hips down against his. “It is ok…just breathe.” His hands gently grazed your sides, and his lips stayed against your neck. Your pussy rubbed against his cock, spreading your juices down his shaft. “You taste as sweet as you look.” When he spoke past your ear, and his gentle breaths left its mark on your skin, you could only rock your hips. He whispered moans into your ear; Your head fell back in pleasure as he continued, “I love you, Y/n.” He pleaded as if begging for you to say it back.

“I love you too, Geta.” He bit down on your neck and kissed the wound as he carefully laid you down on your back. Your legs wrapped around his back, your arms around his neck. “Please…please, make love to me.” You moaned through sensual pants. He sighed and raised his head from your shoulder. You knew he was torn but you were too--- to deny you now would haunt him for the rest of his life. He felt you tighten your limbs around him. This possessive hold made his morals of marriage deplete and crumble. “Geta~” You softly sung in his ear.

The prince’s cock gently pushed into your tight pussy. He paused as his tip settled inside of you to catch his breath. You whined as he stretched your opening-- “Come here.” You whispered; the prince then pushed himself deeper into your core. His arms felt weak as your cunt squeezed his sensitive shaft so passionately. Your eyes squeezed shut and tears ran down your cheeks. Geta quickly wiped your face with his fingertips and kissed your forehead.

“I- I am sorry.”

“It is ok.” You leaned into the touch of his hand. “Keep going.” He gently pulled his hips back and slowly stroked inside of you. He mumbled moans to himself as he tried his best not to finish inside of you—and so quickly. However, his thighs felt like they would give out any second from holding his body up.

Re uploading bc of formatting </3

More on my Master list! + follow & reblog pls