#p: the one with the dinner on the boat

[glamourjack]

The one with the dinner on the boat.

Who: Jack and Lili @missreinhxrt

Where: New York Marina. March 19th.

Opening the car door for Lili and following her in after, Jack greeted their driver and put on his seatbelt. Roy already knew where to go so he didn't have to tell him again. "You want to have a last minute guess at where we're going?" He asked Lili. The surprise would be short lived but Jack had planned out the first part of their anniversary evening which he was sure Lili would like. The drive to the harbour wasn't too long and he thanked Roy once they arrived and got out, waiting for Lili to join him before taking her hand as they walked under the Brooklyn bridge to the dock. "So, I thought for something different we'd have dinner on the harbour?" The sun hadn't set yet so he was sure that and the city lights would be a pretty sight to look at from the boat. "Which means.." Jack dug in his jacket pocket for a mini bottle of water and some pills "I thought you might need these" Lili getting seasick was the last thing Jack wanted, especially after she'd forgotten to take them once in Venice and he'd spent the entire boat ride watching her like a hawk as she turned greener and greener.

So far, their anniversary trip was one for the memory books. They had landed in New York only a day ago and had already seen most of the city. No matter how many times she went, this place always felt like you were discovering it for the first time. She had gotten her frozen hot chocolate (and strange looks from the cashier as she ordered it) and had tugged Jack along in Central Park to view all the statues. The only thing that would've made it better was if Milo was scampering at their heels. But all in all, it was incredibly romantic to be there with Jack and Lili was already dreading having to leave and go back to reality. She kept her fingers intertwined with her boyfriends as she scooted into their car for the evening and raised a curious brow at his remark. "With you, I never know," she laughed and settled comfortably in her seat. Her green eyes stayed trained on the scenery as they passed by and her curiosity only piqued as they pulled up to a marina. Were they…"A boat ride?" She asked, getting out and following him over to where the dock was. She laughed once more as he handed her seasick pills and she obediently downed them. Yep, he knew her all too well. "Babe, this is so sweet. I love this." Lili pulled Jack in for a kiss and with his help, climbed onto the boat.

"Yeah and dinner. I thought it'd be good to be outside while the weathers nice" They went to dinner pretty often in Los Angeles and wherever they were but it was nicer to be outside doing something than always just in a restaurant. It was definitely still chilly beside the bay but it wasn't nearly as cold as it had been. Jack smiled into the kiss and then helped Lili onto the boat. Once they'd greeted the staff on the boat, they went and sat down at the front part of the boat so it could start going. The New York city skyline was beautiful to watch as the boat went down the river.

Luckily, the sea sick pills always worked quick so Lili knew she wouldn't be queasy - she didn't want to spend the entire evening hunched over the side of the boat, vomiting. She sat down at the table with Jack and her neck craned over to try and see what food was coming. Hopefully there'd be wine too - she knew Jack wasn't a drinker but she always loved a good glass of rose with some good food. "I can't believe you put this all together," she smiled at him. She reached over to squeeze his hand. It was so nice to be with somebody so thoughtful, always trying to make her feel special and to make her happy. She had a few surprises up her sleeve for their actual anniversary on the 20th but this was such a nice beginning. "So what's on the menu tonight?"

It wasn't really something Jack had ever done before but he was loving being on the boat with Lili. It was nice that they were the only two there besides the deck hand and the chef, it was very intimate which Jack loved. "Well it wasn't too hard, made some calls and it came together," Actually Jack had just called his parents and they'd organised everything for him but that was nice too, they were always willing to help or use their connections for anything. "I'm actually not sure. The chef is an old friend of my Dad's so I just gave him our dietary requirements and then he said he'd surprise us. I guess maybe fish? or steak. I feel like those are the two main things you see at restaurants these days"

Fish seemed fitting since they were out at sea. Regardless of what was served to them, Lili knew it was going to be delicious. "Your dad?" She asked. God, Jack's family was so cute. She knew he came from a rich background but you'd never know it based on his attitude. He was one of the most humble and modest and down to earth men Lili had ever met and it was a refreshing change from her last boyfriend. Lili didn't feel like her words were constantly being judged or like she couldn't indulge in some of her more shallow interests - Jack accepted her, warts and all. A glass of wine was brought to her and Lili took a sip, nodding her head in approval. "Perfect." The sun was slowly beginning to set and it cast an orange glow over them. "I wouldn't want to be anywhere but here right now."

“Yeah he organised this for us. Or helped at least. The only requirement was that we have dinner with them sometime before we leave so we’ll have to slot that in” He knew Lili wouldn’t mind. She’d met his parents a few times and they’d gotten along well so he wasn’t too worried about it. Jack thanked the waitress who brought out mineral water for him and wine for Lili. The boat was going pretty slow but that was kind of nice. They could really enjoy the scenery. “Neither would I. This is perfect”

"I think that's a pretty reasonable price to pay," Lili smiled at Jack. She had only met his family once but she had talked to them plenty of times over the phone so she was excited to see them in person once more. Her favorite thing to do was gush about Jack and ask to see all the baby photos purely to watch those cheeks flush red. She took another sip of her wine and watched the waves gently rock them, relieved that the pill had taken affect. The only bad side effect of them was that they could make her really sleepy but maybe she'd be able to stave it off at least until they reached shore again. Plates were brought out to them and it wasn't fish but it was a nice, juicy steak just like Jack predicted. It was good enough for Lili - served with some mashed potatoes and some steaming broccoli, Lili's stomach growled at just the sight of it. "Wow," she spoke, staring down at the feast in front of her. "I feel like a princess over here, you really pulled out all the stops."

Jack didn’t think it was too bad either. He enjoyed seeing his parents when he could so being closer to them in New York was a nicer easier opportunity to hang out than always making the trip from LA. Jack was just glad that Lili and his parents got along so well and with his sister. They were pretty close so it was nice that they could all do things together. The steak smelled incredible when it was brought out and Jack wasn’t surprised, he’d never had bad food off of a recommendation from his dad. “Well you look like one so I had to keep the date going with that aesthetic” he half teased. Anytime spent with Lili was Jacks favourite so it didn’t really matter what they did but he’d still wanted to do something nice for her. It had been an eventful year and he felt like they deserved to celebrate that.

"Wooow," Lili laughed but she couldn't help the pink flush spreading over her cheeks. It wasn't as if Jack never complimented her but it always came when she least expected it. "That was super cheesy but super cute." She took another bite of her steak, another sip of her wine and then let out a content sigh as she just gazed at the beautiful scenery. She really couldn't imagine a more gorgeous location. She never liked to jump ahead - at least not after getting her heart ripped out of her chest years ago - but she could see Jack and her doing this for many, many more years to come.

Jack gave Lili a wry smile at her reaction. He always got a kick out of watching her whenever he complimented her. He tried to do it often but it was more fun when she didn't know it was coming and he got to see her genuine reaction. "What? You haven't been hit up by Disney yet to play the live action Rapunzel?" The steak dinner was delicious and by the time he was finished, Jack was sure he wouldn't need to eat again for a week. Except maybe ice-cream for desert, there was always room for that. Looking out over the water, Jack was feeling very content. This had been a great idea and he was happy it had all played out how he'd excpected it to.

Lili being a live action Rapunzel would be the dream but she wasn't confident it would ever come to fruition. "Shut up," she laughed and rolled her eyes. She knew Jack would support her if it ever happened but he'd probably also tease her mercilessly. She finished her meal and following Jack's example, pushed her plate away and patted her flat stomach that felt like it extended all the way out due to how full she was. "I don't think I can move," she groaned softly and yet took another drink of her wine. Alcohol always went to her head quickly but she didn't necessarily want Jack carrying her off the boat so she'd stick to one glass - maybe a glass and a half. Standing up, Lili walked over to the side of the boat and glanced down into the water. It was now night so she couldn't see anything but she liked to imagine there were a bunch of fishes just swimming underneath them. "Any other surprises I should be on the lookout for?" She asked her boyfriend, quirking a brow at him.

"Well that makes two of us" Jack replied, chuckling a little as he watched her go back for her wine, it was the one thing he could always count on with Lili. It was kind of nice though. He never thought she needed anything to bring her out of her shell but sometimes when they were out at events, he knew she liked it. "I don't know" He told her, standing up to join her at the side of the boat "I haven't decided yet" There was a million and one things Jack could think of that they could do to keep the night going and he was keeping them all in his back pocket and would use them depending on how they were feeling later.

Now that Jack was by her, Lili backed up until her back was flush against his chest and she wrapped his arms around her waist. One of the best things about Jack too was that they could be in comfortable silence together. "I think," she began to say and twisted her body so that she was now facing him and her arms were wrapped around his neck. "That we should head back and we can celebrate our anniversary…properly." She smirked at him, playing with the small tufts of hair at the back of his head.

Jack was pretty sure they looked like a scene out of the titanic. The boat wasn’t going nearly as fast but it was still nice to stand with Lili and overlook the water. “Oh yeah? Back to the hot wheels bedsheets?” He joked, leaning down to kiss her. Lili had gotten a real kick out of that when they'd first arrived, not that he'd expected anything less. Jack was only a little embarrassed by it. The family apartment was pretty old and his bedroom had been decorated when he was seven.

[deus-ex-mona]

it sure has been quite a week

[madamechrissy]

Losing Control Now

Pairings: Mobster Gojo x bartender F!reader

Summary: Something about running the Gojo mafia just makes Satoru so bored. Boring, boring boring. Sure, he loves money, he loves women, he loves snorting snowy powder off their bodies. He loves the power that comes from it- but he's just bored. That is, until he stumbles upon you, the brand new bartender that makes him pause, falter, and then soon he becomes obsessed, with knowing you, in every single way. Paying off your mom's debts and working two jobs, you're exhausted, but something about this pretty Mob boy just makes you... excited again. How far in are you, and how far is Satoru in the mafia world? All he knows, is he must have you.

CW: Sexual content, mafia themes, drug themes, violence, obsessed Satoru Gojo, oral sex, possessive Gojo, drug use and drug dealing, lots of hurt/comfort- This part- Explicit p in v sex, public (kinda!?) sex, oral (f receiving) rough sex, spitting, choking, multiple rounds, lots of feelings, talking you through it, cervix kisses, creampie - WC this part- 8.2k wc

That Gojo art is by michi_ia on X, based on Satoru from Pour it Up (Sukuna's story) You can read it alone, but I think it enhances this

<<<part three - masterlist - playlist- Part five>>>

Part four

Satoru Gojo bought a fucking boat for your first date.

Not some tiny little thing either, it’s a gorgeous gleaming white boat gently bobbing along the dock, your jaws drop open as you look at it, then at him, and he has a bashful little smile, a blush on his perfect cheeks. How a mobster can be just so precious and adorable is still a conundrum you haven’t quite figured out, but here he is, rubbing the back of his neck now.

“I didn’t even ask if you liked boats.” He mumbles, and you burst out into laughter then, shaking your head and standing in front of him, hands sliding up his chest.

“Satoru, this is amazing. I’ve never been on one!”

“Shit, never?” You shake your head and he exhales, as if he was truly worried that a damn boat wouldn’t impress you.

“Never, this is insane, I thought we were going to dinner or something, not you buying a boat!”

“We are still having dinner, think I wouldn’t feed you?” He pulls you against him then, hands warm on your waist, making you tremble.

It feels perfect in his arms.

You two hardly know each other and yet you have never felt more at home or safe than you do with him. It should terrify you more than it actually does, but instead you’re just drawn in to him, like a moth to his pretty, bright flame. You sigh, brushing a hand across his cheek now, thumb on the jut of his cheekbone, while the wind by the water whips up around you two.

“Where did you come from, Satoru?” Your soft words pierce his heart, he leans low and presses a kiss on your forehead, feeling the warmth of your skin as the sunlight gently washes over you both, casting shadows across the soft sand beneath both of your feet.

“C’mon, sweets.” He tugs you along, smiling heartbreakingly boyish at you, and you eagerly follow him, he clearly knows something about boats according to his terminology while he gives you a whole tour. There’s even a pretty little room underneath like a little captain’s chamber, when your fingers brush against the silk of the blankets your tummy clenches.

It’s all too fast with him, you know you should take your time, you know you should maybe wait, have any kind of self preservation, but it’s almost impossible when you’re head over heels since you met him. Love at first sight couldn’t exist - could it? Was it lust or desire at first sight, or are you too afraid to admit that it could be, that you felt as if you’d always known him?

That you felt at home and safe?

That you feel better than you have in years, with someone who barely knows you but truly sees you and cares for you so much, do you even deserve him? You have to keep questioning it, if your happiness is well deserved, or if perhaps you were meant to go through it all. The depression you’ve felt is still there, the self doubt, but every moment with Satoru brings a brightness to your heart.

“Wanna steer the boat, sweetheart?” He asks then, and you nod eagerly, he laughs soft at how you bounce over, your hands nervously gripping the huge wheel, there are a couple attendants on the boat, pushing off now, while you dart through the water, and he comes behind you, arms wrapped around you on either side. “Look, you’re a whole captain.”

“Am I now?” You tease, using his help to gently guide it, it was a bit for show of course, but you feel perfect in this moment.

“Need a sexy captain’s hat. One sec.” Satoru disappears, as the soft spray brushes against your skin, and he returns with one, bright white with a line of navy blue, pretty silver emblem in the middle. “There, so fucking sexy.”

“You’re well prepared!” You giggle again, and your pretty laugh, how it scrunches up your nose, how it lights up your eyes makes every bit of anything worth it.

Satoru should be scared, right, he should hold back when he’s feeling more in moments with you than he has his entire life, but there’s so much to you, since the moment his eyes locked with you, those pretty but tired eyes looking back at him. He knew then he had to know you, you make him feel better than any drink or line could, better than any girl that tries to make him feel good.

It’s like all he can see is you.

“Should just wear that tonight.” His murmur rocks your entire body, humming just for him, while he’s leading you away, and one of the men takes over with a little nod and a smile, the two of you leaning along the rails, lit all across with pretty fairy lights, twinkling like pretty fireflies as the sky fills with colors.

“God it’s beautiful!” You do a little spin, breathless as you do, and he chuckles, hands in the pockets of his slacks as he watches you. “Satoru, can I ask…” you drift off now, back to looking at the sea beneath you two. “Why no date before?”

“Oh, that.” He rubs the back of his neck then, looking away a little now, hair blowing softly with the breeze. “Well, not gonna lie sweets I… kinda just… fuck.”

“Oh. Oh? Oh… oh!” He chuckles at your responses, as you compute it all in your mind, lips pursing. “Like, casual?”

“Yeah. They just come to me? I’ve never tried to get a girl, or tried to be with any of them. It just sort of came with the lifestyle, there are women very devoted to the main families, especially mine. Mob groupies.”

“Oh gosh.” Your cheeks heat up, for some reason, like earlier, the thought of anyone with Satoru makes you unreasonably irritated. You know it should not, but it’s still there, smacking you in the face, a possessive feeling that’s irrational but as tangible as anything.

“Yeah so, I don’t know I just had fun and cruised through life as I could, with so many responsibilities that I don’t fucking want, it just passed the time enjoyably. Though,” he brushes a hand across your jaw now, looking down at you with his brilliant eyes behind those dark shades. “I assure you, nothing feels like you.”

“Satoru…” You bury your face against his chest, he chuckles then, holding you tightly against him. “You don’t know how I feel just yet.”

“I’ll make sure she learns the shape of me, don’t worry.” His whisper brushes against your ear, you shift now, throbbing from his filthy words, he’s such a mix of it - of sweet and filthy - intoxicating as you whine out and he laughs again. “Got you excited, didn’t I?”

“Shush. You know what you’re doing.” You glare a bit, and then bury your face again, letting him hold you on the boat, in the perfect moment.

Too perfect.

For a girl who’s been dead on her feet and terrified for so long, this feels surreal - like a dream you fear you’ll get woken up from at any moment, and will do anything to stay here. Clinging to him, like you’ll lose him, like he’ll dissolve at any given moment - like he’s not even real, but he constantly reassures you with every breath that he is, with his hand slipping down your spine, leaving chills.

“Maybe I love to see your cute little reactions.” You sigh, stepping back and looking up at him, hair falling to the side when he tilts your chin so carefully, thumb brushing over your lower lip.

“I feel like this is some pretty dream, I’ve crashed at work, and my boss is gonna be mad.” He snorts, rolling his eyes at you.

“No you’re very much awake, I would know. You snored on me in the limo.”

“No way!”

“Mhmm.”

“So, Satoru, why… is this different, then? Me and you?” He nods, words stuck in his throat, part fear but also part…

How does he describe the difference?

“It’s different,” his husky words reassure you. “Very.”

“You seem like you hate and love running things, you know.” He walks you towards a pretty table that’s all set up with drinks and plates, you sit right next to him, chair screeching along the planks as he drags you close, a hand on your thigh now while you set down the hat.

“Sukuna runs shit for me mostly, but of course I have a role to play. And yeah, I fucking hate it, it’s not my choice…” Your heart aches as you study him, you still have so much to learn, even though you surely felt as if you’ve known him forever. “My parents died, and I had to take over. I was eighteen.”

“Shit, Satoru, I’m so sorry.” You blink back tears, and he shakes his head, shooting you a sad little smile.

“Don’t be, I didn’t know them well. I kind of knew mom a bit, but they lived a certain lifestyle, while I was raised to be the leader of their family - shit a kid really shouldn’t be dealing with, shoved on me.” He rolls his shoulders a bit, the pout on his pretty face making your heart break. “I knew my role.”

“And there’s no like… getting out of it?” He shakes his head.

“The best I can do is have a good crew of men, and I do. I have my best friend Suguru, you know Sukuna and Toji too already. Choso also seems to be a good dude. Together we handle the shit, we keep people safe in our territory, I don’t mind that. What I mind is all the other shit, I hate fighting, even if I’m really fucking good at it.”

You run a thumb across his knuckles, roughened from likely many fights. “I get what it’s like to feel trapped. Not my whole life, but I get it.”

“I know you do, and I wish you didn’t.” He squeezes your hand now, and you give him a shaky little smile.

“You’ve made things so much better so quickly.” His cheeks tinge a bit pink, as if he’s uncomfortable with the praise.

“I just helped out.”

“No, it’s much more than that.” He sighs now, shrugging a broad shoulder as if all his actions were some mere trifle, and not already life altering. “Satoru, I was in a dark place before I met you.”

“Shit…” He swipes a tear that falls, pressing his lips against your hairline, holding you close against him.

“Very dark. Bad, Satoru, really bad. When I met you… everything brightened for me.” You keep blinking tears that fall off your lashes, he’s kissing them away as he holds you close, and the food starts coming out. Your lips kiss his neck as you hide your face for a moment, overwhelmed.

“Shh, it’s all okay. You’re fucking tired, I know.” You’re nodding, warm tears spilling against his skin, while he holds you even more tightly, before pulling back, the aromas of the delicious smelling food mixing with the salt in the air.

“I’m awake with you.” He sighs at that, smiling a bit.

“Let’s eat, hmm? You live off red bulls and ramen, I’m worried about you.”

“Hey it’s got lots of b vitamins, red bull you know, Mr. Snorts Coke off women.” He sticks his tongue out and you burst into a fit of laughs again, affection makes his heart ache at the sound, as he falls deeper so quickly.

There’s no avoiding the truth.

“I will only snort coke off you from now on. Did you think I would for anyone else?”

“You did off Sukuna’s girl.”

“Well I didn’t meet you yet. You’re so possessive!”

“Maybe.” He sighs now, taking a fork and a bite of food off the plate, placing it between your lips, you chew it thoughtfully, eyes fluttering shut in bliss.

“You’re all mad about Mei, mad I snorted coke off your friend, I’m expecting you to start swatting at the strippers soon.”

“Well, not until you’re actually my boyfriend.” Your voice is light, but then it’s there, the question, and you grow embarrassed quickly at yourself. “Satoru, I’m not rushing you into anything, please, it was just teasing.”

“You’re just staking your claim, it’s pretty hot, pookie.” You sigh in relief at the easy way he winks, unbothered - or so it seems - when in fact Satoru doesn’t think boyfriend really cuts.

He needs to be more than that.

The wind is gently blowing your hair around your face when he watches you sip on your wine, the soft light of the setting sun casting pinks and golds across your skin, and for a moment his breath catches, seeing your tired eyes light up, your pretty smile. It makes any and everything he’d have to do to protect you worth it, your giggle as you lean forward, a hand brushing across his thigh now, making him ache for you.

“This is beautiful, Satoru. Thank you so much for this.” Your lips press on his cheek, then the corner of his mouth, the salty sea spray mingling in the air with your perfume, heady and intoxicating.

He swallows a bit, arm wrapping around you now as the two of you sit at the table, food plated by the best chefs he could hire, on his own damn boat he bought for a date, but all you can focus on is him. In his pretty blue eyes, and the way the sun is casting shadows from behind him, illuminating his tall figure when he leans low, brushing a thumb across your cheek.

It’s warmed from the sun, but soon hot under his touch, his bright blue gaze that makes your heart pound. “It’s all worth it.” He murmurs quietly, he knows you don’t grasp his meaning fully, but you kiss him softly, drinking in his sighs, while his touch drifts to the small of your back.

Anything is worth your presence.

“This food looks amazing but I doubt I can pronounce it. It’s insane.” You say softly, eyeing the plates then, and he tries to hold back just lifting you on it, swiping every fancy dish across the wood planks beneath you, and eating you instead.

He doubts that will wait much longer, not with the glimpses of thigh from your high cut dress, not with the way that necklace is dangling precariously against your collarbone that he wants to litter with bites. He takes a breath, putting on an easy smile then. “I don’t either, I just asked for super fancy shit.”

You giggle at it, his sincerity, and he grins so boyish and charming, it melts your fucking heart. “I feel like you can’t be real, and it scares me.”

“Not real?” He frowns a bit, while you take a nibble of one of the perfectly set dishes, sighing as it hits your taste buds, nodding a bit. “What’s that mean?”

“Too good for me? More than I deserve? Too amazing-”

“The fuck?” He glares at you, gripping your chin now, snowy lashes lowering as you sit there, fork clattering from your hand.

“Sorry I-”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that. You fucking deserve everything. Okay?” You blink back emotions, words that shouldn’t spill yet but threaten to, taking a shaky breath and nodding.

“I’m just so tired, Satoru. I’m sorry.” He relaxes his grip, long elegant fingers dancing along your jaw, sighing now as the boat gently dashes through the water beneath you two, and for a moment he’d like it to carry you both away. Far the fuck away. “Thank you for everything, for every moment with me.”

“Don’t thank me for it, right now all I can think of is-” Your phone starts going off then, lighting up at the table, he frowns over at the name as you sigh, ignoring the call. “Your mom?”

“She’ll stop after a few, it’s for money.” You’re so used to this, it infuriates Satoru then, the next call he answers, before you can stop him, covering your mouth in shock, eyes wide as he casually answers.

“Your daughter is on a date, Mom. She can’t give you any money I’m afraid,” you hear her yelling and panicking, but he just sips on a glass of wine, winking at you, as if to tell you he’s got it. “I’ll make a deal, leave her alone all day and night, and I’ll give you some instead.”

“Don’t do that!” Your whisper is brushed off, as he smirks, and you can’t hear her voice anymore.

“Your daughter deserves a day where she’s not carrying all your fucking burdens, mmkay? Great, I’ll send that over tomorrow, meet you soon I’m sure.” He hangs up now, eyeing your shocked face with a shrug. “She’ll leave you alone for a bit.”

“You can’t just pay everyone to leave me alone, this is my mess, it’s-”

“It’s not your mess. You got stuck with hers. And baby Imma fix it all, okay?” He cups your face with both hands, and you’re ended, any resolve, or waiting for the right time, it all falls from your brain, replaced with one thing instead-

You need him.

You need him in every way.

You slam your lips on his then, hot and desperate, he exhales and drags your body against him, until he’s picked you up, sliding plates over and stepping between your thighs, feeling the heat of your needy cunt even over the layers of his pants and the dress he’s slipping up. You cry out against him when he bites the lower lip, the one you’ve bitten to hell, the pain sharp and sweet, soothing it with a swipe of his tongue.

“I need you, Satoru,” you whisper now, eyeing him with a dilated, lidded gaze, your little hands grabbing at his dress shirt, feeling the hammering of his heart against your palm. “Please.”

Who was he to deny you anything?

“You sure, because I will fuck you right on this table. That’s how you want our first time together?” He cooes those words like the sweetest taunt, slipping your dress up your thighs as his breath caresses your lips, swollen already and stinging from his kisses.

“Yes, I do. Please.” He moans now, lips back on yours, drinking in your cries while he slips your panties to the side, fingers slipping inside your tight little hole, your cunt pulses around his digits, already so wet and eager, you’re already convulsing, hand yanking on his skinny black tie, pulling him impossibly closer. 

He’s ended by your sweet pleas, the way your mouth melds under his, cock throbbing and leaking precum against his boxers, he is losing control now, trying to wait, to give you time, but how can he anymore? He wants to carry you down to the bed, make love to you, but maybe that can wait, because he also wants to fuck you bent over on this goddamn table.

He does just that, yanking you down and shoving more things aside, bending you over the table so your legs just dangle, he hopes the men he’s paid to keep his boat running are smart enough to go the fuck away - they’re paid enough - as he gets to his knees, lapping you over your soaked panties. “Satoru!”

“Mmm, fuck…” He slides them off now, letting them fall to your ankles, tongue swiping up your sweet flavor, letting it pool on his tongue before standing, undoing his belt buckle, cock hanging heavy when he releases it, shoving your dress up your waist now. “I need you now, sweetheart,” he whispers, leaning over you, lips on your ear. “She ready f’me?”

You look back, as his cock teases your entrance, the tip alone touching your engorged clit and making your cunt just slip down him, along his length and between your soppy folds, pressing just so at your entrance. You both whine out as he does, achingly slow and teasing, as if giving you a moment to adjust, his hands on either side of you on the table, gripping the tablecloth beneath your body.

“Big stretch, sweets, f-fuck you’re so tight,” his breath is hot against your neck as he stretches you, the burn so fucking delicious your ass arches up for more, he’s just a couple inches in and already you’re feeling so full. He moans, softly, easing out and pressing back in, tip dragging your spot and making your eyes roll back. “Can she take me? You sure?”

“I can, I can, mnh! Gimme as s-sec…” He chuckles as if he’s not dying, as if he’s not beyond completely destroyed by the time his cock drags along your walls, gripping him so tight like a vise, trying to milk him before he’s even fucked you. He closes his eyes, long white lashes brushing your skin, drinking up your every cry, feeling every bit of your body.

“Ready for more, then? M’barely in, baby.” You gasp at that fact, not sure just how he’d get much more, his tongue laps up a bead of sweat on the side of your neck, cock sliding back out, your wetness pouring as he does, making the next thrust even deeper. “Hah- f-fuck, there another inch, huh? We’re half there.”

“Half!?” He chuckles again, letting you adjust, plates clattering with delicate and extravagant desserts, the wind blowing gently against your skin while Satoru’s scent hits your nose, his lips brushing against your neck.

“Thought you wanted it now, that you could take it? Can’t even take half my cock in your tiny little cunt, can you?” The duality of him, of his sweet kisses and devoted actions, with him now talking shit with his thick cock stretching you out is too much, your head falls back against him now, whines echoing out while your cunt spasms.

“I can take more, just… gimme a minute.” He sighs now, reaching around finding your engorged clit and running in circles, you scream out at it, not bothering to hide just how good it feels, legs shaking as he sinks deeper, impossibly deeper, and it starts to feel so good then. “Satoru!”

“That’s it, need your pretty little clit played with, don’t you?” He’s figuring your body out like he did that night when he devoured you, pulling back again until he’s just got the tip in, you whine out at it, he pushes all the way inside, slamming into your cervix now. “Oh fuck…”

“Mnh!” You’re done for when his fingers stop momentarily, he’s bottomed out as much as he can fit in your snug little hole, that’s trying to make him cum quick with every quiver, feeling his tip drooling on that cervix. “Satoru… please…”

Fuck, he was just frozen for a moment, he instantly snaps out of it, rolling his slender fingers on the twitchy clit now, pulling back and slamming again, rolling his hips just so and feeling you begin to shatter. “That’s it, let go f’me… lemme feel you cum all over my cock, baby - let go.”

“Ngh!” At his command you do, eyes shut as your head slams down on your own arms, hands clinging and ruining the pretty white cloth while you cum so hard your brain shuts the fuck down, all it is now is pleasure, it’s all Satoru, his cock inside while you’re gushing arousal, the orgasm rushing your body. “Ohmygod ohmy- ah!”

Your screams just urge him on, he lets you ride that out, finally removing his fingers and slipping them in your mouth. “Suck them, that’s it - such a good girl,” his murmurs are met with his cock sliding almost out again, as you suck on his fingers, tasting yourself, tangy and sweet. “Ready for me now?”

Ready for him!?

You want to ask what the fuck he even means when he starts thrusting mean in your cunt, stretching it out as he moves, fucking into you harder, faster, pistoning his hips so that you feel him every fucking where. “S-Satoru!” 

“That’s it, look you’re taking me like you’re fucking made f’me.” He can’t help himself now, lost in you, bent over you and fucking you hard as one hand grips your thigh, lifting it even higher up on the table, hitting deeper, harder. “Feel me everywhere, don’t you?”

All you can do is weakly nod while the aftershocks pulse around the thick length piercing you so deep you can hardly breathe. He yanks out then, leaving you empty and whining out - Satoru flips you so fast you’re breathless, cupping your face and kissing your lips desperately. Your thighs press against either side of his narrow hips, those dark dress slacks slipping down his legs as his cock presses back against you.

“Wanna look at your pretty face,” his words are followed by his cock driving in your squelching cunt, cupping your face, his intense blue eyes devouring every inch of you he can see, yanking your dress down to reveal a breasts just a bit, brushing your nipple with his thumb while he shoves in again, stuffing you full. “Look at you, fuck you’re perfect.”

You want to say he is too, but you can’t form any words, not when he hits some angle that has you cumming again, white hot stars bursting behind your shut eyes when it hits. He watches you as you fall apart, words that shouldn’t be there yet at the tip of his tongue, he wants to explain them away while he watches you, while your hands grip his expensive jacket and your cunt grips his cock.

Your back arches, breasts spilling out of that top, mouth wide open in a slutty O as you scream out for him. “Fucking beautiful…” he murmurs, enamored by you, before shutting his own eyes, feeling how you’re so slick and hot for him, his balls smacking your ass while your panties still dangle off your heel, thrown over his hip.

“Satoru, mnh, s-so good, I… so much…” you’re nonsensical, slurring your words like you’re all fucked up from the finest liquor, and he can’t drag his eyes off you once they open again, the evening sky casting the prettiest glow on every perfect inch, gripping him so tight he can hardly hold out.

“One more time, hmm? Need one more from you, sweetheart, you can do it.” He encourages you, even though you’re already weak, dizzy, drooling from your mouth and your cunt. He slams into your cunt again, the wet messy sounds echoing even outside in the middle of the fucking sea, you’re so loud as you whine out, brows together, two little lines forming between them.

“T-too much,” he moans at your broken words, leaning lower, grabbing you by your hips and slamming his cock inside again, watching as you twitch under him, gasping for a breath. “Oh my g-god, fuck…”

“One more, just for me. M’close, she’s too fucking tight,” he presses a hot kiss to your nipple, sucking the peak into his mouth, feeling your body tense, one hand right on your tummy over your dress. “C’mon, one more for me.”

You nod weakly, overstimulated and falling off the edge, while Satoru groans and buries his face against your neck, inhaling your scent when he bottoms out, tip leaking so much pre it’s filling you with his warmth. His soft white hair right above his cock tickles your clit again when he rolls his hips, teeth sinking into the delicate skin on your neck and urging you on more.

You feel too much when he pulls back, lips glossed from his saliva, his blue eyes just looking at you that way, the way that makes you feel too beautiful, too special, too fucking much. So much your breath catches, you pause and falter, hands slipping up to cup his face, as words of deep feelings threaten to spill for a man you have only known for a short time.

But how can you not feel it?

“Cum inside me, please,” you whisper instead, and he pauses himself, snowy lashes blinking rapidly, exhaling against your kiss swollen lips now, his cock pulsing as he’s at the edge of spilling. “If you want, I’m on the pill s’okay, but if you-”

Satoru cuts you off with a brutal kiss, cumming inside you was something he could only fucking dream of, and you’re begging for it. Once again, who the fuck was he to deny anything you asked for?

“I’ll give you anything, baby,” he knows it’s vulnerable to say, but it falls from his lips. He brushes your hair back, watching two little tears slip as you cry out, while he lifts your hip up with his free hand, slamming into you again, seeing your eyes roll back into your skill. “Anything you ask for.”

His words barely register, when he’s pumping you full of white hot ropes of cum, groaning against your ear, and you’re filled with him then, so intimate in that moment, coating your walls and pooling down his cock with the pressure of your muscles gripping his cock again. He whines out softly, before kissing you again, hands shaking even as he tries to grip you, pumping his still hard cock in and out.

So much cum, it’s already swirling around his veiny cock with your shimmery arousal in strings and drips, messy and filthy, when he leans up and looks at you again, and you both just look, eyes locked, lips parted. He slides in slow, achingly slow, relishing in every bit of how your pretty body writhes on that table, as your hands grip and loosen the grip again, your whimpers filling his mind.

“Fuck,” he exhales, resting his head on yours now, feeling the sweat on your brow, as your aftershocks keep milking him more and more, and he’s fucking spent. He has never felt this, whatever the fuck this is, beyond a perfect, pretty cunt, beyond busting inside you that deep.

It was more, so much more, so much it takes his breath.

Resisting the urge to spill far, far too much too quickly, he kisses you instead, and you meet his lips, brush for brush, kiss for kiss, tongues dancing while he picks your head up gently off the table, resting his hand under it, gripping now messy locks of hair. He keeps littering your neck and collar bone with kisses, keeps gripping your body everywhere he can, keeps whispering your name.

God he can never get enough of you now.

He knew it would be phenomenal, but he didn’t expect to feel all of this, and the worry sets in - would you feel the same? - but your drunk, dilated eyes that fill with tears should be his answer. “Are you okay, was I too rough, sweetheart?”

“No, it was just so intense… I… fuck I’ve never felt anything like…” You’re trailing off too, and he exhales in relief, peppering little kisses as he helps you sit up, sliding his cock out of you with a wet squelch. You eye the aftermath, blushing furiously.

“You’re messy, y’know, so messy, tsk.” Satoru’s long fingers brush against your abused little hole, making you hiss at the contact, a sadistic smile dancing across otherwise sweet lips. “You’re a mess f’me, huh?”

“You’re insane, you know, look at all the mess you made!” You gesture around weakly, and he chuckles again, kissing you and slipping up his boxers and pants, belt unbuckled while he adjusts your dress, helping you down carefully.

“You wanted it right now. Needy little brat.”

“Excuse me, you’re needy!” He glares playfully, helping you onto wobbly legs, you have to wrap an arm around his waist, knowing how sore you’re going to be tomorrow already.

“Can’t even walk, poor baby.”

“You’re kind of an ass, huh?”

“Just figuring that out?” He brushes your hair back, sweet kisses defying his words, you sigh at how good it feels in his arms, as he holds you against him. “I bought some clothes for you, wanna get more comfy?”

“How do you know my size?” He leans back, eyeing your body with vivid blue eyes, like a caress as they move across your skin.

“I’ve observed your body very well,” you get flustered again, burying your face against his chest, and he laughs softly. “You ask me to cum inside and then get nervous I bought some clothes?”

“You’ve spent enough money, jesus, Satoru.” He shrugs, rubbing your back while you hold onto him tightly.

“I’m filthy fucking rich, sweetheart, why not spend some of it on you?”

“But who am I to you - all this is…. Too much and…”

“Shh.” He tilts your chin up with two fingers, your eyes meeting his once more, drowning in him. “I enjoy this, and I haven’t… enjoyed anything in a while.”

His soft words fill you with an ache inside so deep, knowing he too was in a dark place, you can feel it, and you hate it for him, lip trembling as you cup his face, and his eyelashes flutter shut. “I’m here for you too, no I have no boats or money. Not even any cocaine,” he snorts at that, and you smile softly. “But I have me, and I’m here, for however long you want to enjoy me.”

“Don’t promise all of that,” his husky whisper almost plunges you right over that deep end, when he presses you against the table he’d just had you bent over, cunt still throbbing and now it’s leaking his cum. “What if I never let you leave?”

“Then I’ll be your captive,” you tease softly. “You’d look hot in a pirate hat.”

“Oh yeah, would I now?” You nod and giggle again, but the words are out there in the universe - that you have no intentions of leaving his side. Fuck you’d promise forever if you didn’t know that’s batshit insane.

You’ve never felt more right than in Satoru’s arms.

“Maybe I’m like a little pest, you won’t be able to get rid of me.” He shakes his head, throat closing up a bit as he holds you back against him, feeling the rapid beats of your pulse on his thumb as it runs across your neck, hearing your little sigh of pleasure as he repeats the action.

“I think we both know that’s bullshit.” His voice is just a little hoarse, you snuggle closer, little buttons of his dress shirt brushing on your nose.

“Y-you said you had some comfy clothes?”

“Mmhmm,” he’s pulling back now, so much left unspoken as he takes your hand in his. “C’mon, we’ll both get something comfier on. I figured we could just crash here for the night, if you want.”

“Fuck yes I want, god getting out of that house for the night, and with you…” you trail off again, as he smiles just a bit, leading you down the steps again into the little room inside. The bed keeps calling to you as if saying you’re going to sleep in his arms tonight.

That’s something you’ve never done.

But it’s also something Satoru’s never done.

“There’s a bathroom right in there if you wanna freshen up.” You smile thankfully, slipping on the soft shirt and shorts he’d picked out, coming back out to see him dressed casually for the first time.

You’ve literally only seen him in three piece suits, cufflinks worth more than your car, and a watch probably worth your damn house, always sleek and perfect, there’s something sweet about him in a soft gray sweater hanging just a bit off a shoulder, showing a bit of his strong chest and sharp collarbones. Your breath catches a bit, taking him in slowly as he does the same to you.

“Those sweats, they’re slutty.” You tease, and he looks down at the soft white sweats in question, lips quirked up.

“You calling me slutty? Miss - cum in me please-” You smack a hand on his mouth, as if now you care if someone hears, and he just chuckles, grabbing your wrist, thumb rushing across the little veins there.

“You liked it, came so much.” He raises a thin brow then, leaning low, so low, his sweet breath dancing along your lips as you inhale and exhale slowly.

“You’re talking shit, huh? That’s cute.” He picks you up before you can blink, and you’re thrown right on that bed, his fingers slipping the shorts aside, finding you again, soaking already, curling his fingers wickedly. “Are you sore? Aw, poor sweet cunt, can she not take dick?”

“Are you an asshole or not!? Insane ass… mnh, Satoru!” He laughs a bit, easing his fingers out, coated in the remnants of his cum and your slick, sucking the two of you right off - cheeks hollowing while you watch with wide eyes, cunt reacting already, needing more, even though you’re so sore. “Satoru, you’re so freaky.”

“I’ve been very vanilla with you, actually.” His words make you blink in confusion, but before you can process what he means he has his face back down between your thighs, tongue lapping inside you so deep. Your hands tug at his silvery strands, screaming out, hips bucking up against his hot mouth.

“Satoru!” You’re yanking so hard it hurts, and his cock is already pressing against the firm mattress of the big captain’s bed, as he tastes just how perfect his cum is pouring out of your cunt.

“Mmm, fucking taste us, sweets,” he whispers, nipping at your clit with sharp teeth, two fingers opening your mouth for him to spit right inside it, you almost choke from your gasp, and he groans as you do, remembering how you felt choking right on his cock. “Swallow it, be good f’me.”

You do just that, swallowing his spit down, and he’s desperately kissing you again, messy and hungry, yanking your shorts aside as he slips his sweats down, that blushing pink tip already pouring white sticky cum from the slit, feeling your hips jerk as it bumps your engorged clit. You’re whining out hoarsely, body shifting underneath him, your cunt slicker and slicker with every press and tease.

“Hold these to the side.” His gruff order is quickly met, you tug your shorts over, and he’s pressing back in, you whine out at how sore it is, yet the pain just makes it even sweeter, while he sinks inside you. “Fuck, god look at you, you’re all beat up from my cock, aren’t you?”

You just swallow and nod nervously, still tasting him on your tongue, while his eyes darken, pupils blown the fuck out like he’s on the finest powder, he hovers over you, your hands slip under his sweater, feeling his body slowly. He pulls back again, as you’re slipping up his shirt, dying to see more of his body, revealing the lines and divots of his perfect abdomen as you look down at his body.

“Asked you a question, sweetheart.” His commanding tone shoots your eyes back up, his tip just pressing in your tight ring of muscles and staying there, when you’re begging for more, nails pressing against the hard muscles of his back.

“Yes, I am. Sore,” your sweet whisper has him moaning, he leans over you, cock pulling almost fully out once more. “You like me hurting from your cock? Do you want me to hurt?”

“Fucking…” He lets out a shaky breath and you see it, his fingers itching to squeeze your throat, you take his hand and put it right on your neck, gripping his wrist tightly. “Not to really hurt, I still want it to feel good, baby.”

“I do feel good, so good, and… I want to.” He kisses you firmly before he thrusts fully in one stroke, and you struggle to take him even after being stretched out, even being soaking wet, crying out weakly as his hand tightens slowly.

“Tap me if it’s too much, okay?” You nod and he squeezes harder, pulling back and slamming his cock inside you again, your cry blocked and melded into a weak gasp as your mind gets fuzzy. “Look at this pretty little neck, you’re all mine, aren’t you?”

He needs it, you feel it, how he moves, harder thrusts hitting and slapping so deep, all while he pins you down, one hand pressing on the tummy where his cock is bulging, the other on your throat, all that weight on you, making you feel enwrapped by him. Your ears start buzzing, so much better than the teasing in the car, as a drop of sweat falls down his brow onto your cheek.

He moans at the sight, lost in you, inside you, on you, all around you - it’s just Satoru Gojo, shoving in deep and bracing himself on one arm while you feel your orgasm building again. You’re gasping as he chokes harder, pressure increasing until you nearly black out while you cum for him, seeing double and feeling like you’re floating while it rocks through you.

Your hands grip his wrist, riding it out with a desperate squeak when he releases it, and you’re gasping for breaths, greedy for the air to fill your lungs, only for his kisses to sap the rest of the air in the room. “S-Satoru…” Your voice is hoarse, his handprint around his neck, making him harder, more desperate at the sight, losing the last shreds of control he has.

“You good baby?” His soft whisper hits your still ringing ears, and you nod, dragging him down by his loose sweater for another kiss, as he presses so deep, laying on top of you, cock rocking just right against your every spot. “Fuck, m’gonna fill you up so much, gonna have to take a break from work.”

“What? You’re so- ah!” He’s leaned up again, pressing your thighs so high then, kissing along your inner thighs and calves as he holds them up, tugging at your shorts to keep them aside.

“Want it all in you, don’t you? Slutty for me, just me?”

“Just y-you - ah!” Satoru pounds into your cunt, smacks echoing in the room as he does, fucking one load completely out just to pump another, you’re lost in it, consumed by him, cumming right with him until you’re weak, so weak you’re not making noise, just little mewls from your throat.

“Fuck, feel you, so full huh?” He presses your tummy again, wild thoughts rushing through his head - babies inside you - fuck his babies.

He shakes the thought off, he’s certainly a man who is into many kinks, but breed kink was never one - in fact he actively made sure he’d never have kids with any of the many women under him. But you? He can see it now, and it makes his cum spurt out even more, your mouth open wide as you’re clinging to him, cunt milking his cock like she just wants him to put babies in her.

So lost in insane thoughts - in wild love declarations he can’t say.

What if he was too much?

All while you’re so cock drunk you murmur - ‘think I’m in love, shit’

He pauses, blinking then, and you realize your folly, covering your mouth with wide eyes. “You said… what?”

“Nothing, fuck.” He sighs, sliding in with a still hard cock - how was this man just hard after cumming!?

“Nothing?” He teases, stroking again, watching your jaw tense and quiver as your eyes shut, and your head falls back.

“Ignore me please.”

“I’ll never ignore you.” Your eyes open and he’s far too close, blue eyes swirling like storms in the sky, while the cabin darkens completely, you register it must be nightfall now barely. “What’d you say?”

“Crazy shit.” You kiss him instead, and he lets you live your delusion for now, while your pulse flutters so quickly. “Mnh, okay I kinda hurt.”

“Shit,” he eases out and you wince, brows knitting together. “Too rough?”

“No, no I liked it. I’m just not used to… anything like that. At all.” He leans down and presses a kiss as a little apology, his breath alone making you twitch and whine out again.

“Sorry, pretty.” He’s whispering to your cunt, you giggle then, breathless as he eyes you, slipping your shorts back.

“You talking to my pussy?”

“Fuck yeah, she loves me.” You hear the taunt in his voice, feel your flustered self flush under his serious gaze.

Who was Satoru Gojo?

Sweet, silly, fun?

Freaky, filthy, rough?

Devious, teasing, brilliant?

You just know one thing, you’re falling off the deep end - feelings so intense it’s brutal not to spill, but you’re so terrified of letting go and trusting someone completely. But you do trust him, you feel safe, when he kisses across your brow now, murmuring your name so sweetly.

“C’mon, let’s have a drink and go look at the water.”

“I need help.” He chuckles, clearly self pleased, easing you up, he carefully cleans you up first, taking a pony tail and gathering your hair after trying to brush away the mess. “Well now you’ll have to do that all the time.”

“Brush your hair? Of course I will.” He’s so sweet then you melt, something so simple he doesn’t realize how much it means, pressing a little kiss on your head before grabbing one of the fleece blankets and heading up.

Soon the two of you are watching the pretty water, the moon reflecting on the ripples below, the boat is heading back to the dock for the night, you see the city lit up in the distance while he wraps a blanket around you, holding you over the soft fleece. You exhale at the peace, at how perfect it is, just waiting for everything to break or shatter, to wake up.

“You’re quiet,” he muses softly, both of you leaning against the railing now. You look back up at him, and he cups your face, as the cool night air brushes past, and the moonlight casts shadows on the planes of his handsome face. “Everything okay?”

“I’m waiting to wake up from this dream,” your words hurt him, the way your voice breaks, your lip quivering. “It’s too perfect.”

“It’s real, okay?” You nod, turning and letting him hold you, while he rests his chin on your head, staring out into the night, seeing in the distance arcs of dolphins slicing through the water. “Hey, look!”

“Hmm?” You turn and he points, and then you see them closer, their gray fins in the air, making you light up, bouncing up and down. “Oh my god!?”

“There’s a bunch of them too.” He leans forward, big arms wrapped back around you while the two of you study them, enamored.

“I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“Never?”

“No. Satoru… I can’t swim.”

“What!?” You just nod and he laughs softly. “You didn’t even tell me and we’re in the middle of the sea.”

“I figured you’ll save me.” He smiles softly, burying his face against your neck, inhaling you then. “You already have.”

“Give me too much credit. I still have work to do on that debt.” His heart hurts at your sigh, peeking back to see the dolphins going further in the distance of the pretty clear water.

“You’ve already done more for me than anyone ever has, and I don’t know how I’ll ever thank you enough.” You turn again, and he sees the streaks of tears on your cheeks glittering in the moonlight, he gently brushes them aside, swallowing down his own emotions at the sight. “But I’ll keep thanking you, in every way I can.”

“You never need to thank me. I just want you to get some fucking sleep and eat a good meal.” You giggle through your tears now.

“You clattered all our food to the floor.”

“Shit. I did.” You both laugh softly, and he kisses you right on the bow of the boat as it gently moves through the night.

You know tomorrow brings reality - the trouble you’re in is helped and halted but far from over, but for now you melt into his arms, losing yourself in him again, again, and again, until the two of you are spent, exhausted. Until you can’t even move, covered in slick sheens of sweat, falling out exhausted into an embrace that feels perfect, when you finally sleep, his last thoughts are prevalent -

How to keep you here, and keep you safe.

And he’ll do whatever he needs to do.

A/N- So sorry this took almost two months! As someone who ALWAYS tries to keep her fics 2-4 wks per, sometimes with a ton of wips one won't click for me for a bit. And this was that one. Thanks for those who waited patiently, the next few chaps should not be so long of a wait now that I have my direction! If you enjoyed I'd love to see your comments and thoughts on our sweet lil Mob Gojo <3

taglist 1 - @thejujvtsupost @moonchu @thikcems @yenayaps @luvmichu @antisocialinlw @sukunadckrider @gojoslefttoenail @genticcs @sukuxna0 @saitamaswifey @monster-effer @gradmacoco @bounie1 @bestelizabeth1 @alygator77 @arabellasolstice @naina326 @1satoruu @satorusaysiloveyou @feliaeae @jkslaugh97 @nerdybouquetofkittens-blog @simp-plague @ladyneisa @distractionforyourthoughts @erintaro @ninikrumbs @yesdere @stargirl-mayaa @wstaley2 @just-lilita @lady-of-blossoms @genshingeeksworld @yaoishipper19 @angryflowerwitch @strawberrysluttt @emochosoluvr @bluebrry05 @trishiepo0 @gina239 @bunheadusa @hazelll-trisk @simperisksksk @jud3thedude @breadsbasket @shhhhhhxoxo125 @gojosoups @starpachinko

[harryspet]

Fic or Drabble whichever you wanna do.

Dark bsf Rafe taking advantage of vulnerable pregnant reader. Maybe her parents kicked her out? Or her baby daddy left her. Or whatever u see fit.

(Sorry if that sucks I just love ur work sm 🩷)

homestead | r. cameron [p.1]

[warnings] dark!rafe cameron x pregnant!reader, farmer!rafe, pogue!reader, implied jj x reader, kidnapping, future NONCON/DUBCON, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

word count: 3.6k

In which you reach rock bottom after JJ gets arrested and your first love returns to save the day.

main masterlist

A boy. 

You looked down at your eighteen-week ultrasound picture and smiled weekly. You and JJ were having a baby boy, and you’d found out completely by yourself. Pope had offered a million times to attend one of your appointments, practically begging a few times because he didn’t want you to go alone. You always rejected him, as the idea of going with someone else never felt right. 

The Heyward’s had already done so much for you by letting you live in their spare bedroom for, basically, your entire pregnancy. No matter how much Pope tried to tell you that they didn’t mind at all, you saw in their eyes that the last person they wanted their son to be friends with was JJ Maybank’s baby mama. You promised them you’d be able to save enough money to get your own place by the end of your pregnancy. 

So far, your day job at a retail clothing store and the late shift you worked as a waitress at The Wreck made you enough to keep you afloat. Pregnancy check-ups and ultrasounds were an expense you weren’t initially expecting and you hated that you were contemplating skipping the next few visits to save money. Besides that, appointments meant you couldn’t work and you needed all the hours you could get. 

The picture reminded you of how much hard work was left, but the feelings were bittersweet. You were so excited to meet your little boy, no matter how small he was at the moment. If JJ’s case would move a little bit faster through the system, he could be there for the big day too. Everyone in Kildare was biased against him, knowing his father too well, and you knew the system would be biased against him as well.  

You were grateful for Pope and for knowing someone else loved JJ as much as you did. JJ wasn’t hard to love, but he was a complicated person, and your relationship seemed to bring out the darkest parts of him. Pope saw his dark side, but …he wasn’t there the night he got arrested. 

You didn’t know someone could yell so loud or be so angry. The two of you were living with his Dad, and the first few months were relatively peaceful, mostly because Luke would usually go out at night, get wasted, and crash on some other part of the island. You and JJ usually played house, taking turns making dinner for each other and sleeping together side by side. 

A week before you realized you were pregnant, Luke came around asking JJ for money that JJ “owed” him, and of course, JJ refused him. You knew he’d been saving for months to take you off the island for your birthday, and he wasn’t giving that up. The fight escalated, with both sides verbally tearing each other down. As soon as Luke mentioned JJ’s mother, there was no stopping JJ. 

The fight had already moved from the bedroom to the kitchen to the porch, and then the men wrestled in the yard. JJ would’ve killed Luke if the police hadn’t come. When he got taken away in cuffs, he was a bloody, swollen mess that you didn’t even recognize. 

It became even messier when Luke decided to press charges against his own son even though they’d both been arrested. You then decided that Luke Maybank was heartless and wouldn’t ever see what you saw in his son. 

It was the weekend, your one day off, and you’d chosen to spend most of it walking to the nearby department store after your trip to the clinic. The Heyward’s wanted to spend the day out on the water but rides on the boat were starting to make you extremely sick. Besides that, you hated fishing and It was one of the hotter days of summer but you’d chosen a lightweight t-shirt dress. Well, dresses were starting to be the only thing that you fit correctly with your growing stomach. 

You tucked the picture you were holding into your purse as you made your way inside. For the past month, you’d been working up the courage to go down the baby aisles. Yet another thing that felt completely wrong doing without JJ. Cara had also offered to help buy you things but you told her every time that you were waiting until you were closer to your due date. You’d hold off from nesting until you were sure that JJ wasn’t getting out. 

Slowly, you looked over every item. Cribs, diapers, breast pumps, baby formula, bottle warmers, and bibs. It was all so overwhelming and you knew getting everything would be expensive but the price tag didn’t quite register to you until now. You had no idea how you were going to pay rent one day and afford all of the things your baby needed. 

You picked up the cutest crib mobile decorated with rocket ships, stars, and planets, and your heart skipped when you realized it was over a hundred dollars. You’d have to work an entire shift to earn that. 

“Y/N?” 

You turned towards the deep voice and the mobile tumbled from your hands, “Shit,” You cursed as you went down with it, hoping you hadn’t broken it because you couldn’t afford to buy it. Rafe Cameron pushed his cart to the side and hurried to help you, “I got it,” You said quickly as you turned away, handing it back on its display. 

Then you really looked at him. The boy you’d been so obsessed with in highschool was not a boy. His light brown hair was longer than you remembered but was tamed by a baseball cap. His white t-shirt and jeans didn’t match the version of him you had in your head, but, honestly, he looked better than you remembered. 

He smiled, rubbing the stubble on his face, as he seemed to take you in. If Rafe looked ten times better, you probably looked ten times worse than you used to. You felt huge although people just started taking note of your bump a couple weeks ago and your hair was messily gathered away from your face. Your dress was not name brand, in fact, you remembered buying it from the exact store you were standing in and you wore boots that used to belong to JJ now that your feet were starting to swell. 

“Hey,” He said.

You breathed out, “Hi.”

“Congratulations,” Rafe glanced at your belly and you wanted to crawl inside your own skin, “I guess?”

“Thanks,” You nodded, “It’s . . . complicated.”

The sad part about being pregnant, unmarried, with your child’s father sitting in jail was that people had no idea what to say to you. 

“How are you?” He asked after you went silent.

“I’m good,” You forced a smile, “How are you?”

“Better now that I’ve ran into you,” His smirk was the exact same as you remembered, “You shopping for the little one?”

“Browsing,” You said, “Didn’t quite realize how expensive all this stuff is.”

You looked at him for understanding before you remembered you were talking to – Kildare’s richest bad boy, “You still keep all your little friends around?”

“Yeah, we’re all a bit spread out now, though. I’m staying with the Heyward’s right now.”

You weren’t quite sure why you were exposing your life to him, but part of you wanted him to know that you were fine, that you had made the right decision choosing JJ over him, and that you were still figuring out life, but you’d be happy. 

“Oh, so it’s Pope’s baby?” The smug look on his face made you realize he was teasing you. 

“You know exactly whose baby it is, Rafe,” You shot back, your eyes rolling back.

You turned to walk away but he grabbed you by your arm, “Y/N, I’m kidding. I’m kidding. I’m sorry, Honey.”

You quickly pulled your arm away from him, folding your arms in front of your chest. You looked over his cart, seeing it was filled with miscellaneous things, but the only thing you could recognize was a massive back of dog food, “You got a dog?”

 “A few,” he said, placing his hands in his back pockets, “I use ‘em for animal herding. Wrangler, Sadie, and a few puppies.”

“Animal herding?”

“Yeah, I got this place on the mainland. I just came through to see Wheezie. I promised she could have one of the puppies before I sold the others.”

“You got a place on the mainland?” Your eyebrows raised, and you tried to keep your mouth from gaping, “Puppies?”

He nodded, laughing lightly, “Had to get my shit together after I got out of rehab and living with my Dad and Rose, it was just never good for me. Still working for him, but I’m just better on my own, you know?”

“I didn’t know you went to rehab,” You said quietly, still trying to process the information he was relaying. 

“A few times to be honest but I’ve been clean for a year,” He admitted while looking a bit closer at you, “Is there anything you need right now? I can help.”

“No, I couldn’t let you do that,” You shook your head quickly, “I’m fine.”

“You never like to accept help, do you?”

“I don’t need anything right now,” You assured him. 

“Hmm,” Rafe huffed, “Can I at least give you a ride, Y/N?”

“How do you know I don’t have one?” 

He gave you a knowing look that made you want to punch him. He was new and improved Rafe, but he was still an asshole, “Well, I also came to look for a new living room rug, and I could use a woman’s perspective. Help me, and I’ll give you a ride back to the Heyward’s.” 

“Whatever,” You shrugged before you began walking, “Fine.”

In his eyes, you could tell he thought he’d won. 

This was so wrong. So, so wrong. JJ would kill you. JJ would kill him. This wasn’t high school anymore, and you weren’t the insecure girl vying for the rich bad boy’s attention. Besides that, you’d always been an option for Rafe. JJ always chose you despite where you came from; now you might have a real chance of having a family. 

You blamed the way your body heated up when he spoke your name on your racing hormones and on the fact that you’d been separated from JJ for months. 

Rafe said he only came to main island to visit Wheezie, but as the weeks passed, you realized he’d found a new reason to visit. At least two times a week, he came in to the Wreck to order food and talk to you. Not only that, he practically texted you daily checking in on you. 

“Why the sudden change?” You asked him one night when closing time was closely approaching and you’d served all your tables, “I mean, I know you hated JJ but I didn’t think it would get in the way of, you know, us.”

“It’s my biggest regret after getting to know you again,” He admitted and the look in his eyes made your heart sink, “But I didn’t really know what I was doing when I was younger. I was so stupid, all I cared about was getting my Dad’s approval and I spiraled when that inevitably didn’t happen.” 

He had a way of making you question all of your own decisions. 

“Ward definitely wouldn’t approve of me now.”

“I told you I don’t care what he thinks.”

“Or what the entirety of Figure 8 will think?”

“Not at all,” He said.

“I care what my friends think.”

“You’re different than them now,” Rafe reached across the table to grab ahold of your hand as his blue eyes stared deeply into your eyes, “You have a great responsibility on your shoulders now. You have to do what’s best for you and the baby. That’s it, fuck what they think.”

“They do want the best for me,” You whispered, tears stinging your eyes.

“They want JJ for you. And he’s sitting in jail right now.”

You pulled your hand away, looking out the onto the dock and dark water. 

“You don’t even know how you should be treated,” Rafe said mostly to himself.

“What does that mean?”

“It means–” He stopped himself, but his skin was flushed with red and you sensed he was calming himself down, “I just think you deserve better.”

“And you’re going to walk into my life after all these years and save me? I can do this by myself.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Rafe leaned in, “JJ’s going to get out but things aren’t going to get better.”

“Why would you say that?”

“It’s true, he’s a fuckup. He won’t get a good job and there’s a good chance he’ll go right back,” That tipped you over the edge and your chair scraped loudy on the ground as you stood up, ‘“I’m sorry. Look, I’m sorry. I can drive you home.”

“Pope is coming to get me.”

You didn’t spare him a second look as you walked to the back of the kitchen. Until now, he’d refrained from putting all the weight of his judgement on you but you knew all a long he thought you were making a mistake. He’d been through a lot but he’d never struggled like you and JJ had. At the end of the day, he’d always had Ward’s money to fall back on. 

He just hated JJ and he was doing his best to get in between the two of you. 

Two weeks later, you were standing outside the Kildare County Jail, not because you were visiting JJ but because he was being released. Luke dropped the charges against him, and they released lower offenders due to overcrowding. You watched a few reunifications and waited on a cold bench in the lobby; blue hydrangeas in a small bouquet sat neatly in your lap. Your dress was also blue and printed with daisies. He had no idea the two of you were having a boy, and it was your sweet idea of telling him. 

You’d blocked Rafe’s number just that morning after ignoring his messages and calls. He was wrong. Even if he was calling to tell you that, you didn’t want to hear it. They never specified how long it would take to process him but you started to doze off after waiting for two hours. An officer in beige uniform tapped your shoulder lightly to wake you.

You were still hopeful and you expected to see JJ right behind him, “Hello, ma’am. Unfortunately JJ Maybank cannot be released today.”

“What?” Your eyes widened, “Uhm, why?”

“I was informed that additional charges have been filed against him.”

“What do you mean additional charges?” You asked, concern raising in your tone, “Who can I talk to?”

You when through every channel of communication possible, searching for answers. They couldn’t possibly expect you to leave like nothing happened. You found out from another officer, after heavy begging, that they filed another battery charge against him involving another inmate. Somehow, in the two days that he knew he was getting out he managed to catch another charge. 

“Could I at least visit him?” You’d asked and they told you he was in a segregated unit now and not allowed visits. 

You felt your heart physically break. When it fully started to sink in, you left to get fresh air. You walked for a long while until you started to panic. You sat down on the edge of the sidewalk and through teary eyes you tried to search for Pope’s number. What would you do now? Go back to the Heywards and continue to accept their charity? You were kidding yourself thinking you could do this alone. 

It felt like a rejection. You’d never had a real family. JJ knew that and yet he’d left you all alone again. 

You let your phone fall to the side, deciding you wanted to be miserable by yourself and you didn’t want to burden his family any longer. You threw the flowers into the street before your head fell in your hands and you finally let yourself cry for the first time since JJ had gone away. 

The bouquet you’d carefully put together lay discarded in the street and you had no care about the mud that was probably staining your dress now. Just as your chest started to tighten unbearably, you heard the low rumble of car engine and a shadow seemed to drape itself over you. You heard someone calling you, telling you to breathe, but your body wouldn’t obey the instructions. 

Your baby needs you to take a breath, you told yourself but the thought of your baby only made your guilt worsen, “I’ve got you,” You heard that familiar voice say. Being in his arms was far from familiar but your body didnt protest when it felt itself lifted in the air and placed on soft leather. 

The next time you looked up, you felt the car moving, and you saw the sun setting through the window. You felt a hand on your thigh rubbing soothing circles but you felt more paralyze than anything, “Try to take deep breaths,”  You heard him say but your body wasn’t yours to control, “Everything’s gonna be okay now. I’m going to take care of the two of you.” 

You were not in the squeaky twin bed at the Heyward’s house when your eyes peeled open the next morning and you realized that quickly. You saw wooden beams overhead and walls painted a soft cream color. You turned your head to see sunlight coming through lace-curtained windows. As fast as you could move with the extra weight, you pushed the comforter off of you and moved over to the window. It offered a view of rolling fields and distant trees, the greenery stretching as far as your eyes could see.

Looking back around the room, you saw a sturdy, antique bed with wooden nightstands on either side. A handmade quilt with vibrant patches of red and blue sat on top of the bed. Plush pillows piled at the head of the bed. On top of one nightstand was a well-worn book and a framed photo of younger Rafe with a blonde woman beside him. 

On the other nightstand was a vase of freshly picked wildflowers. You remembered your blue hydrangeas, and yesterday’s events came flooding back to you, “Fuck,” You cursed, and your eyes found the bedroom door. Before thinking about walking towards the door, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the large mirror, sitting on top of a wooden dresser. You were dressed in a white silk pajama top and bottoms, a tiny sliver of your belly poked out the bottom of the shirt, but otherwise, they fit you perfectly. All you could do was curse, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You moved quickly towards the door, but it opened before you grabbed the handle. You covered your mouth as a shriek left your lips.

Despite your startled appearance, Rafe appeared calm. His hair looked like it had just woken him up, and he wore a simple T-shirt and gym shorts. He closed the door behind him, acting as another barrier to your escape, “What the fuck, Rafe?”

He shushed you, “You need to stay calm,” He warned you, “There’s no point in getting riled up.”

“I was having a panic attack and . . . and you–”

“You needed to get away,” He raised his hands as if to show he wouldn’t cause you harm, “I took you home with me.”

“You took me home with you?” You spoke back to him, “I have a home. Why didn’t you take me back to the Heyward’s?”

“That’s not your home, Honey, and you know that.” 

You shook your head, “You don’t get to decide that. Where’s my phone?”

“It’s wherever you left it,” Rafe shrugged, “You know, when you were having a panic attack on the side of the road. Alone and pregnant with absolutely no one looking out for you. Imagine if it wasn’t me who found you.” 

Rafe looked annoyed like it was you who was crazy in this scenario. You tried to ignore the thought of him undressing you and putting you in these new clothes. The idea of that became harder as you watched his eyes trail from your feet, higher and higher, “Jesus Christ, you don’t even know how precious you are,” He came closer until you were stumbling back onto the bed, “I want you to stay here with me.”

“And if I don’t want the same?” You looked up at him. 

“I’ll let you think it over. Give it some time,” He nodded to himself, “Are you hungry?”

You didn’t answer, only stared back, “I’ll make you something. I’ll be right back.”

He turned on his heel, and as you realized what he was doing, you hurried after him. He closed the door, and as you furiously turned the knob, you realized he’d locked it, “Rafe!” You screamed as you pounded on the door, “Rafe, please don’t do this!”

You felt your tough exterior melt away. This was serious. He was completely serious about keeping you here. 

You rushed over to the windows next, throwing open the curtains, and found that they didn’t budge even as you pushed at them. You kept yourself from another panic attack, knowing that Pope would be looking for you right now. You never told him about Rafe … you were so concerned about him judging you that you next rold him. But if someone found your phone, they would know … but you had no idea what really happened to it.

As you started to pace, you suddenly felt a fluttering sensation. You stopped as you felt a tiny kick inside of you, an unmistakable movement that echoed throughout your whole body. Gently, you caressed your stomach. “I hear you,” you said through heavy breaths as your eyes moved around the room. It’s okay. I’ll figure this out. Don’t worry.”

Please let me know what your thoughts and predictions are! Reblog with a comment to be added to my taglist!

[prismkith]

thinking abt Jinx x reader the first night that Isha came home with them.

Like this little girl just followed you two home and didn't say a word and you both just accepted it lol

Absolutely DESTROYED whatever shitty food you and Jinx scrounged together for dinner

Bby was starving :(

Immediately just started wandering around the hideout and exploring

Jinx obv followed her and rambled about anything she could

You realize that none of you all have had a bath in a hot minute and it is probably time for one

I think families bathing together would be pretty common in Zaun

Hot running water is rare and in limited supply so there aren't many other options

Isha was slightly wary of the bath at first but when you pulled out the bubbles she immediately lit up

Grabbing the side of the tub and jumping while she watched it fill up and the bubbles get bigger, the cheesiest grin on her face

And when Jinx pulled out the little wooden boat figures? game over

They proceeded to play battleship in the tub while you desperately tried to wash ishas hair without getting soap in her eyes

"Jinx chill out for one minute so I can rinse her hair" "Don't be such a buzzkill"

by the time you were all clean, the water was getting cold and the floor was soaked from Isha and Jinx splashing everywhere

You and Jinx got dressed first and then Isha sat on the bed wrapped in her fuzzy warm towel while she waited for you to get some clothes for her

I'm literally dying imagining this she is SO CUTE

Finally, Jinx finds an old band tee for Isha to wear to bed

Literally swallows her whole but she loves it

Very quickly became Isha's band tee lol

Tries to help you braid Jinx's hair but gets bored p fast and just ends up playing with it

You all then sat on the bed in your pj's munching on some trail mix for dessert

Jinx spent way too long trying to throw nuts in the air and catch them in her mouth

And then Isha started trying too

And now you will be finding nuts in the bed for the next two weeks

Isha's eyes are starting to get droopy from exhaustion, and both you and Jinx are yawning and slowing down

Before you and Jinx could suggest it was time to sleep, Isha crawled under the covers and passed out, still holding the toy boat tight in her hands.

________________

A/N: rest in power lil ish

[bbywhitefox123]

Summary: catherine’s out back in a tiny sundress, no bra, just sunlight and soil. the toddler turns on the hose, and suddenly she’s soaked—clinging dress, pebbled nipples, and rafe watching from the patio like he’s gonna kill his friend for looking at his wife like that.

Warnings: dirty-jealous-husband Rafe Cameron, P in V, breeding kink, dirty talk, nipple play, possessive praise, sex in the laundry room.

The midday sun poured down over the Cameron estate like a golden syrup, warm and glinting off the hydrangeas Catherine had just planted. She was kneeling in the grass, sundress hiked high on her thighs, red and white like strawberries and cream. That little red headband tugged her hair back just enough to expose her flushed face, a sheen of sweat over her cheekbones. She hadn’t worn that dress in years—not since the days when they used to screw in the back of his truck before Sunday dinners. She looked exactly like his memory of her. Maybe better.

Rafe stood on the patio with his beer in hand, barely pretending to listen to whatever Davis was saying about the new boat engine. His eyes were fixed on her. His wife.

She laughed, light and soft, when their youngest—three-year-old Maisie—grabbed the garden hose and twisted the handle.

A shriek. Cold water exploded across Catherine’s front, plastering that dress to her skin. She froze, and so did Rafe.

No bra. No panties. That much was fucking obvious now.

Her nipples stood out under the soaked cotton, tight and pink like she’d just stepped out of the shower. The curve between her thighs was there too—damn near outlined for anyone with a pair of working eyes.

Rafe didn’t breathe. But Davis did.

“Jesus,” Davis muttered under his breath, dragging his tongue across his bottom lip. “You sure you don’t got a nanny or somethin’? I’d never let my girl run around like that.”

My girl.

Rafe’s grip on his beer tightened.

“She’s my wife,” Rafe said coolly, eyes not leaving Davis. “Not a fucking show pony.”

Davis just chuckled like he was still twenty-two and dumb, and Rafe had to look away before he did something violent. Catherine was waving at them, still giggling, dress clinging to her thighs as she walked toward the patio. The grass stuck to her knees. Her chest rose and fell, nipples still poking through like she had no idea what she was doing to him.

But she knew. She always knew.

“Gonna grab a towel,” she said, slipping past them, her scent trailing behind her—sun, rose petals, and a little sweat.

Davis watched her walk away. Rafe watched him watch.

That was it.

“Leave,” Rafe said suddenly. Voice low, dangerous.

Davis blinked. “What?”

“You heard me.”

Rafe didn’t wait for a response. He was already walking inside, the screen door slamming behind him.

He found her in the laundry room, towel around her shoulders, still damp, still flushed. She looked up at him with those eyes. The ones that always got him into trouble.

“What’s wrong, baby?” she asked, cocking her head.

“You,” he growled, closing the distance between them in three long strides. “You—dressed like that. Looking at me like that. Letting him—fuck, Catherine.”

Her back hit the washer with a thud. Rafe grabbed the towel, yanked it down, tossed it aside. Then the straps of her dress. Off the shoulders, down her arms, bunched at her waist.

“You wore this dress to ruin me, didn’t you?” His hand trailed down, knuckles grazing her inner thigh. “You remember how I used to fuck you in this thing?”

She gasped when he lifted her up, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. Her bare cunt pressed against the bulge in his jeans. Hot. Wet. Needy.

“Tell me,” he demanded, voice rough against her ear. “Tell me you wanted me jealous.”

“I—maybe,” she whispered, eyes wide, lips parted. “You used to get so mean when you were jealous.”

“Still do,” he muttered. “But it’s only ever for you.”

He kissed her hard then, all teeth and tongue and frustration. She moaned into his mouth as he pulled her tighter, grinding her against him until she was panting his name.

“Kids are outside,” she breathed.

“Let ’em play,” Rafe muttered, already unbuckling his jeans. “Daddy’s busy.”

The denim dropped to his thighs, boxers shoved low enough to free his cock—thick, flushed, already leaking.

Rafe didn’t waste time. He shoved Catherine’s dress up to her waist, her hips bare, her skin soft and warm in his grip. He let out a sharp breath when he looked down between them and saw her already slick cunt ready for him.

“No panties,” he muttered, voice thick. “Fuck. You knew what you were doing.”

“I just—” she panted, “It’s hot out—”

“Don’t lie,” he growled. “You wore this little slutty sundress with no fucking bra, no panties, let my friend see what’s mine. You like showing off what's mine? Huh?”

She moaned as he dragged the head of his cock through her folds, teasing her entrance but not giving her what she needed yet. Her hips tried to roll forward, desperate.

“Answer me,” he snapped, giving her ass a sharp slap.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, Rafe. I like when you get jealous.”

“Goddamn right you do,” he hissed.

Then he slid inside her in one smooth, hard thrust. She gasped, head falling back, the crown of it hitting the laundry shelf. He filled her completely, thick and heavy and home. Her pussy clenched around him like she’d been waiting all fucking day for it.

“Fuck, my wife takes my cock so good,” he groaned, hips already snapping forward. “So warm and wet and perfect for me.”

His hand came up to pull her dress down just far enough to expose her breasts. He groaned at the sight—still soft from the kids, sensitive, her nipples tight and aching. He bent his head and sucked one into his mouth, rough and messy.

She cried out, nails dragging down his back. “Rafe, oh my God—”

“You know how crazy this drives me,” he muttered into her skin, sucking her nipple deep, then switching to the other. “You running around braless, pussy bare under your dresses. You want me to fuck a baby into you in every room of this damn house?”

Her breath caught. “Yes.”

“Yeah? Gonna keep you pregnant, barefoot in the garden, dress all dirty and wet while you carry our fifth baby?”

Her cunt clenched around him at that, drawing a guttural moan from his chest.

“That’s my good wife,” he praised, fucking her deeper, harder. “Takes care of our babies, wears slutty little dresses, and still needs my cock every fucking day.”

Her back arched, one arm wrapping around his neck, the other fisting his hair.

“Say it,” he growled, teeth gritted. “Say you’re my wife. Say you want me to fill you up.”

“I’m your wife,” she cried, voice wrecked. “I want it, Rafe—want you to come inside me. Want your cum so deep I taste it in my throat.”

That broke something in him.

He fucked her into the washer, the rhythm punishing, hips snapping with purpose. One hand gripping her hip, the other twisted in the back of her hair, controlling the angle, baring her throat for him to mark up.

“Mine,” he growled. “My wife, my pussy, my babies—mine.”

“Yours,” she sobbed, eyes rolling back, body trembling.

Her orgasm hit her hard—tight, wet, pulsing around him. Her whole body shook, and Rafe bit down on her neck as he let go, fucking her through it while he spilled inside her, thick ropes of cum filling her up until it leaked down her thighs.

They stayed like that—his cock still buried in her, their skin sticking together with sweat, her nipples still pebbled against his chest.

“I fucking love when you don’t wear underwear,” he murmured, brushing her hair off her face, kissing her softly now. “You make it so hard to be civilized, baby.”

She laughed weakly, voice hoarse. “You never were civilized, Mr. Cameron.”

He grinned.

“You married me anyway.”

[valyrianvibranium]

WILDEST DREAMS.

Modern!Aegon II Targaryen x pregnant!Reader

Neither of you would have thought you‘d ever end up like this — dating for hardly a year and you pregnant with Aegon‘s child. Yet he still has another surprise up his sleeve.

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MINORS DNI; p in v, pregnant sex, pregnancy, lactation kink, semi public sex, daddy kink, breeding kink, praise kink

WORDS: 3.5 K

NOTES: Thanks to @lovelykhaleesiii for this amazing request! This can be read as part of the Mine and Mine only universe. 🤭

White Harbor has never looked more peaceful than it does at this moment. 

Just two days ago, the sky above the harbor was lit up by fireworks with thousands of people watching, and now the only lights you can see are the ones on the docked boats, and the street lights and buildings surrounding the harbor. 

Instead of a formal dinner with his friends, just like he has celebrated every year, Aegon has chosen to invite his younger siblings and their respective families to White Harbor to celebrate the New Year, renting a penthouse overlooking the impressive harbor. It was meant to be a trip no longer than three days, however, all parties involved have quickly decided that it would be better to extend the trip by a few more.

You and Aegon have been dating for hardly a year, meeting by chance in the very same spot you sit in right now, and, after you have found out that you both live in King’s Landing, decided to enter a situationship because you enjoyed each other’s company but weren’t looking for something serious. 

Until he got you pregnant by accident. 

After you both agreed to keep the child, you could swear you had spotted a few tears brimming in his eyes as you handed him the positive pregnancy test, you could observe from day to day how he became more and more absorbed in the father’s role. 

You’re seven months pregnant by now, and, except for the ridiculous amount of milk your body already provides for the child, you have little to no symptoms. The child has been moving quite a bit ever since you’ve hit the six month mark, but you have gotten used to it by now. 

Aegon’s arm is draped over the back of your chair with his fingers drawing mindless patterns along your upper arm, and you two bask in each other’s company and the silence surrounding you. You’re nursing your second glass of non-alcoholic wine, one hand resting on the swell of your bump and feeling the kicks of your child. 

While your eyes are fixed on the tv in the adjoining living room, the Disney movie still running that was meant to keep Helaena’s children occupied during dinner, Aegon has his eyes solely locked on you, watching you gently caress your protruding bump. 

He places his hand over yours, the sudden warmth prompting you to meet his loving gaze. 

You lean into his embrace, and he presses a chaste kiss to your temple, before you nuzzle your nose into the crook of his neck, inhaling his all too familiar, comforting scent. 

“You know they won’t come back, right?” you ask, voice slightly muffled because of the position of your face. 

Aemond and his wife left two hours ago to feed their little boy and bring him to bed, and have not returned ever since to do God-knows-what. Helaena and Cregan were a bit more persistent with both their children occupied by the television, before they eventually departed to bring them to bed, too. 

That left Aegon and you all by yourself without the hurry to get to bed. 

He chuckles at your words. “I figured as much,” he says, pinching your chin to bring your lips up to his. “We have this evening all to ourselves now.”

Knowing exactly what he is hinting at, your eyes take over a half-lidded gaze almost immediately, your hormones having you feel positively bubbly.

“And I suppose there are plenty of ways we can entertain ourselves in the meantime,” you purr against his lips, pecking them once. He has parted his lips when you pull back, clearly having anticipated you to deepen the kiss and not pull away after just one chaste peck. 

A growl rumbles in his chest as he’s figured out your teasing, and his voice is husky when he speaks again, “are there now?”

His eyes spark with the joy of mischief at his own words, sending a shiver straight down your spine. 

Aegon’s hand drops lower onto your hip, drawing you closer to him to the point you have to get up to straddle his lap. Just at the sight of the pregnant you climbing him, he could feel his crotch growing tighter, much more at the realization that it was his seed doing this to you.  

The skirt of your dress rides up your thighs as you make yourself comfortable to accommodate the space your bump creates. The fabric rucks up just below your belly, and your bare skin is too inviting for your boyfriend not to rub his hands up and down the outsides of your thighs. 

You rest your hands on his shoulders, and lean in to connect your lips with his. Aegon meets the kiss with passion, his arms snaking around your frame to pull you closer. Your lips press together with urgency, your tongues exploring each other’s mouths. 

You run your fingers through his short, silver curls and hold him tight to you as the kiss deepens. You’re both eager to get as close as possible to each other, and you feel the evidence of your proximity and his desire pressing against your clothed and swollen pussy. 

Aegon draws back slightly, and you chase his lips for another kiss. It was passionate but short-lived with him lowering his head to kiss your jaw. 

He caresses the swell of your belly as he trails his lips to your neck, shoulder and then your collarbone. You whimper and whine at the heat on your skin that follows his lips, tilting your head to the side to grant him even more access. 

Teasingly slow, he hooks his index finger beneath the strap of your dress and drags it down your shoulder, completely unphased as he starts to nibble your skin. He proceeds to do the same with the other strap, letting them dangle in the cooks of your elbows with your arms bent.

He brushes his hand over the side of your bump up to your heavy breast, cupping it through the fabric. “You haven’t worn a bra all day long,” he rasps against your collar bone, looking up at you with dark blown eyes. “Such a little minx. Bet you didn’t even think about how badly I would have to hold myself back, huh?”

The touch to your breast sends a tremble through your body, and you arch your back into it. Biting your lip as you look down at him, you whisper teasingly, though there is a hint of glee audible in your words, “not one second.”

His piercing blue eyes widen for a moment, the true meaning behind your words slowly settling. When he squeezes your breast, you tug on his hair in return, causing him to groan, and with his head already tilted up, he presses his lips to your jaw. 

“You’re a very, very naughty girl… mommy.” His voice is hoarse when he speaks, and his words make your body hum with desire. 

You lick your lips, and bow your head to meet his, kissing him deeply. You start to grind over his clothed cock, eliciting sharp and heavy breaths from him and quiet whines from yourself whenever your lips parted for air. 

Resting your forehead against his, you rub your hands over his shoulders, squeezing them. “Mommy can be very naughty,” you say, pecking his lips once. “If she gets what she wants…”

“And what does she want?” The grin he has on his lips is perfectly audible, you don’t even have to see it. He knows all too well what you’re going to say, he just wants to hear it.

“You, daddy.”

You can tell he’s taken by surprise at the nickname, since you’ve never used it with him before, his eyes widen as he pulls back to regard you. But nevertheless, a low groan leaves his lips. 

Having always been insatiable and hungry for each other, it’s no surprise which direction it all takes when Aegon cups your ass and lifts you up to carefully sit you down on the table, standing between your parted legs. You bury your fingers in the hairs on the back of his neck again, and watch him carefully.

“Say that again.”

With a cheeky grin on your lips, your eyes visibly trail from his to his lips and then down to his crotch, the bulge perfectly visible. “Daddy,” you reply to the command, innocently batting your eyelashes at him. 

Aegon groans again, and when his hands tug on the front of your dress, you shimmy out of the straps to allow him to free your full breasts. It’s impossible for him to tear his eyes off of them, watching mesmerized how your nipples harden as the chill air hits them. 

You don’t even have to say anything for him to lean in and wrap his lips around one bud, skipping the teasing to suck on it immediately, swallowing your milk like a man starved. The stimulation and relief it brings has your back arching once again, all but shoving your breasts against his lips and into his hand. 

He’s pinching your other nipple between his fingers, coaxing drops of your milk to dribble down the curve of your breast while his lips greedily lap at your other. 

“Fuck,” you mewl, scratching your fingers over his scalp in a comforting manner. 

Aegon’s spurred on by the way your body writhes beneath his touch and your legs clamp around his hips, locking him in and prompting him to rut his hard cock against your clothed pussy. 

But as much as you yearn for the relief his lips bring you, the aching between your legs is too much and needs to be soothed by him. 

“I need you, Aeg,” you whine, grinding yourself against his hard-on. 

A deep groan rumbles in his chest at your words, stoking the already blazing need you have for each other. To your surprise, he pulls back from your breast with a pop, a string of saliva connecting your hard bud and his swollen lips. 

They are curled into a smug smirk, the expression that so often blesses his chiseled features. “What was that?” 

You sigh, biting your bottom lip to suppress the urge to roll your eyes. You know what he wants to hear. “I need you… daddy.”

Like a man possessed, Aegon pushes the skirt of your dress up and reveals your cotton panties. You haven’t worn thongs in ages, and he’s used to them by now, though it took him some while. 

Noticing the damp spot in the center of them, Aegon scoffs. “God, fuck, how I‘ve missed you,“ he husks, his eyes solely focused on the outlines of your swollen folds against the cotton. He‘s not talking to you, obviously. “So eager to be filled by me, baby, mh?”

He fists the fabric between his fingers and just rips it apart as if it‘s nothing, briefly meeting your pouting gaze. “I’ll buy you prettier ones,” he replies. 

His hands curl around your thighs to pull you closer towards the edge of the table, and you lean back and prop yourself on your hands, watching almost eagerly as he undoes the zipper of his pants and pulls out his cock. The tip is covered in an angry red, beads of pre cum glistening at the slit, looking all too painful and begging for relief. 

Fisting the base of his cock, he drags it through your swollen folds, soaking it in your arousal before he presses the tip against your entrance, meeting resistance. You brace yourself for the delicious stretch, and release a shuddered breath when he finally breeches your hole. 

Aegon doesn’t know where to look and touch you. Every inch of your body looks far too inviting, and he’s sure he could cum just knowing that he’s the one responsible for the swelling of your body. The half lidded gaze you flash at him doesn’t help either, driving him mad. 

A husky groan slips past his lips as your walls squeeze him ever so tightly, throbbing and twitching as you choke him like a vice. “Fuck, keep squeezing me like that and I’m not gonna last long,” he rasps. 

One hand comes up to grope at your breast, while the other rests on the swell of your bump, splaying over it. 

As he pulls his hips back, you wrap your legs around them in a fruitless effort to force him back into you, but he is stronger and merely keeps the tip of his cock inside of you. 

“So eager to have me inside of you?” he teases, and your reply dies on your tongue as he thrusts sharply back into you. 

There’s a suppressed urgency in the way Aegon snaps his hips into yours so quickly and harshly, repeatedly bullying the sweet spot inside of you that makes you putty in his hands. The vigorous pace of his pounding leaves you scrambling for support, and you opt to prop yourself up on your elbows instead of your hands to steady yourself. 

Your head tilts back, and your mouth falls open, but you quickly clamp it shut to stop any wanton moans to fall from your lips. You can’t risk being too loud, as you don’t want anyone in the bedrooms far down the hallway to hear what you’re up to. 

The pleasure envelops you, and when you look at him, you spot him biting his bottom lip harshly, clearly struggling with staying quiet just as much as you do. What seems to distract him at least a bit is the way your breasts jiggle each time his hips meet yours, sending tremors through your body. 

Toe curling pleasure overtakes your body, and you can’t help but fondle the breast that isn’t groped by him, teasing your nipple to the point beads of your milk dribbled out of it again. The sight has him groan out, a tad too loud for the both of you.  

“So fucking pretty carrying my child,” Aegon grunts, the praise making your pussy throb with pleasure and your head fuzzy. He gathers some of your milk on the pad of his thumb, bringing it up to his lips to suck his digit clean. “Pussy or tit – you just taste divine.”

The obscenity of his words coax a renewed wave of your arousal to ooze out of your cunt, soaking his throbbing cock and the table below. You don’t want it to end just yet, but with the knot in your belly tightening, there’s no way to escape. 

Your heels dig into Aegon’s ass cheeks to slightly decelerate the pace of his thrusts and force him to go even deeper, intensifying the sensations you feel. 

“Fuck… please,” you whimper with your face contored in pleasure. 

Aegon wrinkles his nose, looking at you from under the strands of hair that have fallen into his face. “Need something, mommy?”

Your hips roll against his as best as they can, the swollen belly not making it easy, and your mouth falls open again with breathy whimpers leaving it. “I-I’m close,” you mewl, looking up at him with hooded eyes. “Wanna cum, daddy… please.”

You spot the hint of a smile dancing over his features, before he peels your hand off of your breast to bring it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it. 

His other hand has found its way down to your pussy, skilled fingers dragging over your bundle in the rhythm they have long internalized. He knows you like clockwork, knows what gets you going and what makes you take just a little longer. 

“Cum for me,” he pants against the back of your hand, not once breaking eye contact with you. 

You collapse on the tabletop, the coldness of the wood hitting your flushed skin sending a shiver up your spine that goes so devilishly well with the fire that suddenly courses through your veins. 

Just in time with your orgasm washing over you, Aegon places his hand over your mouth to stifle the loud moans and whines, knowing damn well that even though he can hold himself back, the same doesn’t apply to you. 

You squeeze his cock so tightly as you fall apart beneath him, your back inevitably arching off of the table. 

“That’s it, mommy,” he coos while he fucks you through the orgasm, the toe-curling pleasure overtaking your every being. He watches in awe as your face contorts in pleasure, taking pride in it since it’s him that’s responsible for it. 

Only as he feels your body relax and your breathing turn more shallow than heavy does he bring his hand back down to your breast, the aftershocks of your high clearly subsiding. 

Aegon keeps on going despite the overstimulation taking its toll on your body now, clearly racing for his own completion. His other hand shows mercy on your sensitive clit and instead pays attention to your hip, fingers digging into your flesh. 

“Taking me so well, fuck, just a little longer,” he rambles, his head bowing forward to watch where he‘s repeatedly disappearing inside of your tightness. 

Your head lulls back again, and your walls flutter and clench from the overstimulation, in dire need to take his seed and bring it to an end. Both your hands fly to the edge of the table for leverage, while his hands grope every inch of your body they could grasp. 

Being overstimulated by him isn’t new to you, yet the moment the discomfort melts into plain pleasure always mesmerizes you. 

Your body feels as if it’s on fire with the knot in your belly tightening for a second time, the high approaching faster and harder than before. 

“Would’ve fucked a child in you if you weren’t pregnant already,” Aegon mumbles, and you can hear the strain in his voice, seemingly having troubles staying quiet. 

You whine in return, and it must have been the way your walls choke him for a second time, but Aegon brings his hand between your bodies again, pressing his thumb to your sensitive clit. 

“Cum with me,” you all but whine, eager to have his seed paint your walls. “Fill me up, daddy, pleasepleaseplease.”

The interplay of his cock bullying your sweet spot and his thumb dragging over your clit has you toppling over the edge once again, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip to silence yourself. 

But even if you wanted to moan, you couldn’t, not with the white, hot pleasure coursing through your veins. 

Your lips part with no sounds leaving them, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. 

It’s not long after that Aegon comes undone, announcing his own orgasm with a stutter of his hips and a hoarse “Fuck, I–” escaping his throat. 

Your clenching walls are milking him for all he got, making sure every drop of his cum is accommodated and doesn’t go to waste. 

Two more thrusts are given to your fluttering pussy before Aegon stills his hips, collapsing forwards with his hands braced right next to the swell of your bump. 

He’s towering over you, a lazy smirk on his lips as he meets your gaze, and beads of sweat cling to his flushed skin. 

You rub your bump in circles as you look up at him, calming yourself as you regain your breathing. 

And you want to speak, but Aegon beats you to it.

“Marry me.”

A gasp escapes you as you process the words, and your belly immediately churns with arousal and desire. 

As his words ring in your ears, you lick your lips and gaze up at him lovingly, though something mischievous glints in your eyes. 

“I thought you’d never ask.”

His face softens, but his lips curl into a smirk. “I was waiting for the right time, but I didn’t know whether it would come at all.”

You giggle at his words, and also roll your eyes, as it was typical Aegon. But even if the moment isn’t perfect, your heart still beats rapidly, having a hard time to handle the overwhelming emotions his proposal causes you. 

“But there’s still going to be a real proposal, right? With a ring and all that?” you tease playfully. 

Aegon chuckles and helps you sit upright again, cupping your belly with both hands. “Of course, you’ll get a beautiful ring and everything else that comes with it. You really think I’d half-ass something like this? You deserve the most extravagant proposal.”

You sigh, savoring the feeling of his hands on your body, his softening cock still inside of you and the weight of his words. 

“Yes. Yes, I will.”

Taglist: @heimtathurs @croatianprincess @nina2697 @sirenangelroyal @malfoytargaryen @thetaygaryen @wintrr13 @winter-soldier-101 @kyuupidwrites @boofy1998 @thekinslayersswordhand @sagelovesreading @jiminie-08 @doublesparrows @at-a-rax-ia @fan-goddess @recorddust @tsujifreya @melsunshine @drwstarkeyy @kazuyatokue @moonlightfoxx @bbgmonsay @thatmysteriousblog @ashovertheriver @black-dread @watercolorskyy @nothingqueens @urmomsgirlfriend1 @hypocritic-trash-baby @darylandbethfanforever9 @snowystark @connorsui @valeskafics

[carpenoctxrn]

a bait, a hoax, a challenge (ominis gaunt x fem!reader)

Prompt: Ominis bets his girlfriend can’t go a week without his touch and she accepts with full intentions of winning.

Word Count: 6327

Masterlist

Disclaimer: The characters are close to 19 and in 7th year at Hogwarts. Has smut. I have read smut starting at age 13 so I’ll say please be mindful of the material you consume. also a lot of grammar errors, not proof read.

PSA: p in v, fingering, squirting, cockdrunk reader, fucked dumb Ominis, pregnancy mentions, boob job, giving head, unprotected sex, no spoilers for the plot, very little plot tbh, if you squint you'll see I am currently ovulating.

A/n: I despise J.K Rowling for what she stands for especially regarding her transphobic and sexist comments/ views. this work isnt to endorse her in any kind of way and is just a outlet for my writing. I bought the game for $18 a month ago and Ominis left an impression on me.

---

“I bet you couldn’t last a week without me.” Ominis’s smirk was almost audible to the girl below. She couldn’t see his face but she could just feel it. The challenge was a hoax, a bait, a dumb bet that really didn’t matter at the end of the day. But it was the way he said it. The taunt in his voice, the pride in his tone. It was all enough for her to take the challenge, and she fully intended on winning it.

That was yesterday half way during dinner, when she had snuck away with Ominis to the boat house. The gentle noise of water lapping at the wooden planks below them was enough to lull them into their own world where the only people who existed was the person in front of them. She doesn't remember if that's how it went but she was too tired and too giddy to care.

Today was a different day. It was breakfast and most students, except those who skipped breakfast, were in the great hall. Some were studying for their next class, some were trying to stay awake, and most were eating. Then there was the couple who were ignoring each other. Usually it would happen after a break up but this time it was between a very promising couple.

Ominis’s beautiful girlfriend was currently seated with her group of friends at the Gryffindor table. Natsai was pleasantly chatting and talking about her most recent grazing adventures. While on the other side of the room sat Ominis himself, his only friend Sebastian talking his ear off about every single thing that comes to his mind.

“Well, well, well…look what the cat dragged in.” Said the Scottish accent of Imelda Reyes. She sat down next to Natsai as her elbows supported the weight of her head in her arms. 

“Trouble in paradise, I see.” Imelda poked as she leaned in closer. 

Before Ominis sweet little darling said anything to direct the attention away from her, Poppy Sweeting came in and sat right next to the girl.

“What are we talking about, guys?” Poppy asked as she picked up an apple from a nearby bowl and began munching on it. 

Expecting her breakfast with a side of gossip.

“Just the obvious, why little Mrs. Gaunt isn’t sitting right next to Mr. Gaunt.” Imelda clarified as she stared intently at the girl she directed all her jabs at.

“Oooh yeah! Why is that Mrs. Gaunt?” Poppy asked innocently as she continued biting into her apple.

The poor girl looked at Natty hoping she would bring sense to their friend group however she just shrugged before saying a “Even I am curious, why aren’t you sitting next to Mr. Gaunt, Mrs. Gaunt?” 

‘Mrs. Gaunt’ groaned at her friend's persistent nature but decided that they were the ones who she would have told the entire bet about anyways. And if she didn't tell them today, she would have told them by tomorrow.

“Fine, but if word of this gets out, I will personally write a letter to Leander Prewett to inform him that not only all three of you stole his underwear last year but that you all use it to get off.” She threatened the three girls. 

It was a dare that the three girls lost against Y/n, and she dared all of them to go grab Leander’s dirty underwear. Unfortunately for the girls, practice ended early and they were caught brown handed by Leander himself.

“Oh, it's that serious.” Natty said with a smile, knowing whatever she was to tell them was definitely juicy.

“Ominis and I made a bet,” She started off, “of who can last a whole week without each other.” Her words emphasizing ‘without’ hoping that they understood the implication to be as indecent without her having to say the crude word out in public.

“Without as in platonically or without as in the mommy and daddies are?” Imelda asked with a smirk, loving how red her friend looked.

“Ohhhh..” Poppy and Natty said as they understood that bet was based around lewd acts. 

Sure, their friend would often share her dalliance with her perfect boyfriend but she was still a bit shy about it. Her red ears and cheeks were giving her away as she avoided eye contact while downing some strawberry lemonade.

The three giggled at her friend's predicament knowing that she is completely enamored by her boyfriend. So in all honesty they had very little faith in her.

“So how did it happen?” Natty asked genuinely wondering what could have led to such a bet being placed.

“Well….” The girl blushing red started off making sure to keep her voice as quiet as possible.

Ominis had long forgone his tie as his pretty girlfriend sat in his lap kissing him like a mad woman. Her lips trapped his own in a hot sopping kiss; her hands were on his neck or on his chest, while her body was grinding down on a very hard and prominent bulge.

“Please Omi,” she begged, as her boyfriend's hands that were on her waist made their way to cup her ass.

“You must use your words darling?” Ominis taunted with a chuckle followed by a groan as his girlfriend might have rubbed against him a bit too hard.

“What were you saying, Omi?” She teased with a smile as she continued to press her own wet sex and throbbing clit down on his bulge, a bit lighter tho.

Ominis opened his mouth to say something but his teasing girlfriend smirked before she pressed even harder on his length. The groan that left him made her chuckle lightly only to be stopped by Ominis mouth.

His teeth found her supple and slightly swollen lips and began biting on it. Making sure to suck the flesh while his hands squeezed and spanked the fleshy mound of her buttocks. Her breathless yelps and moans as she continued to grind on Ominis began to become heavier. 

Her body began to slow down a bit signifying that she was losing stamina but Ominis, ever so perceptive of his girlfriend, placed his hands on her soft plumpy hips. His grip left indents on her flesh as he began moving her body on his clothed dick. The pleasure he received was immense but the wet patch that he could now feel on his clothed sex, was a sign that the girl in his lap was far too close to her release.

“What’s the matter, love?” He asked, knowing she was too drunk on pleasure to talk, instead she whined in response to his question.

Her hands lightly placed on his shoulder while her head was thrown with her chest pushed against her love underneath her.

“Oh--omiii..” she whispered out as her body began to twitch ever so slightly. Telling Ominis that his precious girlfriend was mere seconds from exploding over him.

“Om--omii, imma. Cum.” She spoke in whispers and gasps as her body slowly began jerking much harder.

Then just as Ominis had predicted, his lower half had become wet in her essence. She stood up a bit, her feet finding the side bars of the chair as support as she tried to get away from the stimulation. Her boyfriend's hands are still on her hips.

One of his hands left their place on her side and began sliding through her now wet folds, glistening in the moonlight that seeped in from the cracks of the little boat house. He lubed his fingers up before putting in two fingers. His fingers couldn’t make it past her hole and he tutted.

“Tut-Tut, squirted so hard that you’ve made yourself too tight for me.” Ominis mused, but the girl in lap was still quivering while her jaw slacked.

He slowly began to unbutton her white long sleeve button up. However she held Ominis wrists, stopping his actions before bringing them to her lips and kissing her fingers before slightly sucking them. Ominis shivered at her tongue licking the tips of his fingers while the slight hollow of her cheeks sucked it.

An incredible image materialized in his mind. The silhouette of his precious girl in his lap, towering him just a bit, her eyes glistening in reflection of the moon as slight sheen reflected a path of tears cascading down her cheeks to her jaw.

Her mouth is adorned with puffy lips and her hair a beautiful mess. His hands still close to her face as she kissed it. She looked perfectly ruined by Ominis and he was so proud of what he made her.

“Your soo good to mee, Omi…” she whispered her words against the palm of his hands.

“Imma be good for you.” She spoke before kissing a path from his arms to his neck and finally his jaw. Hovering just over his mouth letting him open it, only to kiss his nose.

Giggling she got on her knees and took the hard length out. It was glistening in the moonlight the droplets of precum and the slight remnants of her own squirt making his pale thick shaft almost glow.

“So prettyyyy…” She slurred, already feeling cock drunk at the sight of Ominis in the chair. Him half exposed, his hair tousled from when she ran her hands through it, and his nick bruised with some light hickies.

“You should see yourself, my love.” Ominis whispered out as his pretty little girlfriend was on her knees slowly stroking his length.

She began with kissing the base of his engorged length, feeling the shudder that ran through his body and the slight twitch of his cock. As she peppered his shaft with sweet loving kisses Ominis couldn’t stop panting, his breath shallow and his mouth opened wide. It was his time to slack jawed.

A low hum left his mouth as his girlfriend kissed the top of his pretty head, the usual pink now replaced with bulbous glistening red. Her tongue making soft circles at the opening on his cock a hiss leaving his mouth. Her thumbs running against his ball sack, feeling it bob up and down at her ministrations.

She slowly took his head in her mouth feeling her tongue accept his weight and his taste. He tasted like an aftertaste of honeydukes. The thought made her smile before she felt her hands covered in saliva. Her own spit dripped down in strings, collecting beads of his precum and making a mix of salacious fluid.

She began to suck his head tasting more of the precum he produced as she felt his balls move a little in her hands as she continued. Feeling as if there was enough of her spit and his cum in her mouth she spat right on his balls. The crude action made Ominis jerk and as he opened his mouth to reprimand her for being so filthy. But her mouth was on his balls as quickly. 

The action made his back arch as his hands found themselves tangled in her hair or on her shoulder. He wasn't pushing her, he was just holding on to her. The sensation was so new and welcoming that he felt as if he may float away.

Her tongue licked and sucked at the stretchy skin like muscle of his heavy balls. She made sure to explore this new area of him, loving the way he whimpered and whined at the feeling. Letting one of her hands work on the middle of his huge length while the other worked top of his tip. Spreading his cum all over his length, keeping him lubed up for more.

“Oh- Merlinsss,” He hissed out, his parseltongue seeping out.

 “You're such a good little girlfriend for me.”  He confessed in parseltongue.

His low hisses echoed in the room, the sound reverberating against her skin causing goosebumps too form. Ominis was driving her crazy, every logical thought in her head disappeared, any shame or any restraint she had was no longer her concern. Consequences can be damned.

They were still in their attire on the off chance they might have to play off being in the boat house, after all it was public property. However she had a crazy idea in her head and no logic to stop her. She paused her assault on Ominis ball sacks. 

Her lower mouth was now covered in her saliva and his precum. Ominis was bleary eyed to even feel she had stopped, his body still coursing with happy hormones. The rustling of her clothes made him snap back to reality, the wand in his sleeves materializing the image of her basically naked now. Her cotton underwear was discarded and she was just in her corset. She hooked her hand to the lace in her back and pulled the material to loosen her corset. As it loosened it fell down on the floor along with her shirt, robe, tie, and skirt. 

Her breasts falling down in a bounce. She was just in her socks and Mary Jane shoes. 

“My love,” Ominis whispered out as his hands found her chin pulling her face to look at him, “You shouldn’t be so naked out in the open. Especially since the chill air of the lake may make you catch a co-” 

His words cut off as his darling girlfriend lunged at his lips trapping him in a kiss. As she kissed him, she wrapped her breasts around his thick dick. Smushing the flesh around him. The sensation of her supple and soft skin around him made him moan in surprise.

His mind lagged before he finally understood what she was doing. She was giving him a boob job. Half of his length was covered by her boobs, while the other half was out in the open. As they broke apart from the kiss she moved her body to sit back on her knees. His dick now at a perfect angle for her to swallow his tip in her mouth while her boobs caressed him.

“You're such a caring boyfriend Omi,” She slurred out before she went back to sucking his tip. 

“Let me take care of you.” She whispered as she used her body to jerk him off. 

Ominis could feel her body's warmth on her balls, on his shaft and on his tip. His heavy balls made a plap-plap sound as the wet skin hit her under breast. Her mouth still sucking and swallowing every little of his pre cume he released. 

She could feel him ready to cum, his balls began to jerk, his length twitched, and his tip released more precum. Ominis voice became raspy as he whimpered and hissed. His body arching more and more, offering himself to the girl below him.

And just as she was about to feel him cum in her mouth he pushed himself further down her throat. The action made her gasp before she herself moved closer to his length making her mouth take more of him. She swallowed around his length and that's when she felt him release. 

She let some of his cum in her mouth but she pulled him out and began jerking his shaft closer to her face. Wanting to feel his release on her face and chest. Ominis was so fucked out that he didnt even notice his dick was no longer in her mouth. Only when a particularly chilly breeze caused his sensitive tip to twitch did he use his wand to figure out what was happening.

The sight in his mind was one he would never forget. His girlfriend on her knees as she licked the cum off his dick. Her face was covered in clots of it and so was her chest. She took some of his cum on her chest and licked it off her fingers moaning at the taste.

“By merlins, you’re so perfect my love.” Ominis confessed softly as he helped her up before he pulled her into a kiss.

They stood up rather awkwardly. But Ominis wasn’t done. His mind only replayed the scene of his pretty little girlfriend sucking him off. The kiss itself was so hungry. His body coursing with dopamine and oxytocin wanted nothing more besides another round with his cute darling.

“Are you gunna fuck me Omi?” She asked so sweetly as they pulled apart from the kiss. Her hands slowly unbuttoned his shirt.

He just sighed at her question, feeling himself lose control, as he pulled her into his face for another kiss. His mouth was barely kissing; it was just a wild clash of sucking and licking. 

“Fuck me hard Omi,” She moaned out knowing exactly what was happening to her boyfriend, “I want to feel you deep in my be--” her words cut off as one of his fingers entered her slick hole.

“If you keep talking like that my love, I’m afraid I may lose control.” He confessed as he kissed her neck softly.

The girl in his embrace going limp and once again open mouthed at the feeling of his fingers stroking and stretching her insides. One hand around her waist while the other had it's pointer and middle finger stretch her out. He began scissoring his fingers, the squelch as he entered and left her sopping wet hole made him groan into her neck. 

Whispering in parseltongue at how obscene she sounded. Her head lolled back as he sped up his actions. 

“Imma cum oh- omi,” She squealed out as she felt the familiar feeling deep within her cervix, the familiar pull and tightening of her walls. Some of her cum already leaking down her hole, onto Ominis hands, and soaked right into his shirt.

Before she could cum or explode all over Ominis finger, he took his fingers out. His girlfriend teary eyed from pleasure, but now had furrowed eyebrows. Ready to tell him off.

“Om-Ah” Her words interrupted the feeling of Ominis pushing ¼ of his cock into her cunt. The sensation made her shiver.

Ominis placed both of his hands on her ass and picked her up. Her legs wrapped around his slender waist and her hands wrapped around his neck. He walked them both over to a marble table. The dust on it suggests it hasn't been used for anything in more than a year.

As he sat her down on the table, he leaned his taller forward to kiss her softly. He placed her feet on the table and spread her open by pushing her plushy thighs away from her core. He kept her figure closer to the edge. As they broke the kiss his girlfriend placed her hand behind her. The cool marble table made the heat in her hand obvious.

“You're truly insatiable, aren't you?” He asked rhetorically as the tip of his cock was still buried in her walls. He couldn’t see, but he could feel the juices of her welcoming slit flowing out. 

“Omiii~” She mewled as she pawed at the tall mens blazer. 

But he just stared at her dishevelled form. Her soaking heat releases her sweet nectar around his twitchy and desperate cock. Her soft mewls and her hands grasping at him, asking him to move. He couldn’t help the mused chuckle the vibrated through his chest, especially at the memory – that only a few hours ago she sat composed and poised at dinner – now she was unraveling in front of him.

“Fi- fine!” She grumbled before she steadied a hand on his chest as she began moving her hips just a bit. 

Her moan echoed in his ears as he felt more of him being consumed by her slick throbbing walls. She wiggled more of him inside of her before he pulled out all the way before slamming half of his lubed rod in her.

She groaned in both pleasure and surprise as he began a fast pace. Both her hands now stretched behind, finding stability on the cool marble table. Ominis rocked into her, working in more and more and more of him until he was snug inside of her.

Her moans were half mixed with whimpers and her body both convulsed and rocked at the sensation of Ominis, her loving boyfriend, fucking her mindless.

She tried saying his name but it came out broken, sounding more like a moan and less like a name. But Ominis knew what his girl was saying, that's why he stopped prying her thighs open and instead pulled her closer by her back.

The closeness makes the girl below him whimper in pure happiness. Then Ominis placed one of her legs on his shoulder and put one of his hands on the sides of her face gripping the back of her neck. His forehead pressed against his as he began a hard and deep pace. His other hand hooked her other leg over his arm while squeezed tightly on her thick hips.

She whimpered and moaned into his palm as he whispered how lucky he is to have and how proud he is of her. His words just left a flutter of butterflies inside her stomach and she felt so precious and cared about being his.

He was about to release his own juices into her salacious little hole, he pressed right at her cervix. He knew already the chances of her becoming pregnant weren’t slim , seeing as they have done so much without protection already within the past hour. However releasing his own load on her would surely get her pregnant.

And suddenly the logic disappeared from his mind when he realised he could get her pregnant. She could give him a child that was half him and half her. And the thought roamed in his head, especially when she began spasming her cum on his dick. The milky fluid of her release creates a vulgar ‘slush-slush’ sound. 

He was going to cum in her, he really was but before his senses snapped back as she wailed out his name. He pulled out just in time as he released a thick virile load on her tits. She jerked his length as she began kissing his neck whispering how good it felt. Whispering how much she loves, confessing how good he looked, and sharing how adored he makes her feel.

As the couple came down from their high they slowly began cleaning themselves and the room up. Knowing they will have to sneak into the prefect's bathroom to clean themselves up. Neither of them were prefects but no one would stop them. She was an ancient magic wielder and he was a Gaunt.

--- bath time --

The pair had decided on a bath together after showering. It was somewhere between midnight and 1am. Everyone had gone to bed and tomorrow (technically today) was a monday. 

The pair settled into the hot water as Ominis muttered “the water is so hot we may as well brew tea along with it.”

His girlfriend chuckled as she ruffled his wet hair before kissing the bridge of his nose. She relaxed against his chest, her naked back pressed firmly against him. His arms wrapped securely around her stomach as he rested his head on the top of his. His thumbs moving circles on her stomach.

“Omi, you're tickling me.” She said softly in a giggle as her fingers drew mindless patterns on his arms.

His pink lips broke into a smirking smile against the skin of her neck before whispering right at the lobe of her ears.

“Careful my love, accuse me once more and I may just prove you right.” He teased her. 

She just elbowed him in the chest, not hard to hurt but enough.

“You know what I meant, Omi.” She confessed as she continued tracing his hands thinking of how they were about two months away from graduating Hogwarts.

Her heart was beating in her chest rapidly and she was scared that if they stopped moving, the water would still rivet from the rhythm of her heart.

“Penny for your thoughts.” Ominis spoke as his eyes closed he could feel her thoughts.

“What will we do after graduation Omi?” She asked her body to turn a bit to face the boy she loves. Her hands now on his chest drawing mindless patterns.

He still had her wrapped in his arms as he ‘looked’ at her.

“Well you’ve had your dreams that I suppose you'll follow. And I guess I'll just follow where you go.” He said as a matter of factly.

“I know that Ominis, you’ve told me that a lot. I meant,” Her voice halting as her thoughts debated asking the question.

“You meant..” Ominis said, trying to get his girlfriend to finish her sentence.

“I meant us.” she spoke feeling timid at the question sounding so stupid.

“Hmm what about us?” Ominis asked, feeling as the question was too vague.

“I love you Ominis, as long as I live and breathe I know you are the one who I will spend years with. I want to grow old with you and I want to..” her voice faltered again.

Her cheeks grew hot as she felt herself become shy at voicing her question at him.

“You must stop with these incomplete sentences, love, I promise I won’t judge you my sweet little girlfriend.” He said while kissing her temple.

“I want babies.” She said with a bashful smile on her face.

“You want.. Babies?” He asked feeling a bit flushed at the thought and at what he was about to do an hour ago.

“Mhm!” She nodded as she excitedly explained.

“After we both settle into our lives and work, after marriage, I want us to have two kids. The gender doesn’t matter. I would love it if they were 5 years apart. That way the youngest would have an older sibling to look up to and oldest will have a younger sibling to love. Oh and when one of them comes to Hogwarts the other will be with us. And when both of them come to Hogwarts we’ll be empty nesters for two years which will give us a break and we could travel. Then when the oldest graduates, they'll probably stay with us for a while before they leave. What do you think?” She said with a smile on her face as her hands continued to trace patterns on his chest, not stopping once.

“I think the world you created for us is beautiful. And I can not wait to start it with you. I love you too.” He said as he pecked her lips.

“This may sound ridiculous, but I swore on Merlin that you were surely to get me pregnant today at the boat house.” His girlfriend chuckled at her thought. Remembering how deep he was in her and how he really showed no signs of pulling out of her until the end.

“I was thinking about it, and I swear on Merlin I truly thought I was going to get you pregnant.” He confessed as she began chuckling with him joining in.

“It’s a good thing we aren’t married,” his girlfriend spoke with a teasing tone in her voice, “it would have been very hard for you to keep those freakishly large hands off your wife, wouldn't you?” her playful words made one of his eyebrows rise.

Her lips curved into a smile as she thought of another possibility of them living together right after graduating Hogwarts. She knew in her heart that sleep would be few and moans would be constant.

“Me? I’m the one who can’t keep my hands to myself?” He asked his voice low in tone as he smiled at the absurdity of the thought.

“Yes.” His girlfriend replied clearly amused at him.

“Darling, I think you’re forgetting who’s clinging to whom this entire time.” His fingers brushing gently against her stomach as caressed the skin once again.

His girlfriend just rolled her eyes as she began to stand up, readying herself to turn into bed. Ominis stood up also, getting out the tub and helping her out, but as she moved away to grab the towels. He pulled her into his embrace, their wet body sticking to each other so easily.

“But if you’d like to prove me wrong… then by all means try keeping yours off of me for a moment.” He taunted as his arms hung by his side all the while hers were on his chest.

She pushed him gently before scoffing “Is that a challenge?” She asked as she grabbed a towel for herself and one for him, throwing the one for him at his head.

Obviously, the blind boy didn’t stand a chance of catching it. When the towel landed squarely on his face, a startled pause followed before his girlfriend’s laughter bubbled up from across the room, light and teasing.

“I could have helped you,” she called out, her voice dripping with mischief, “but I didn’t want to ruin the fun.” Her grin widened as she dried herself off, clearly enjoying his predicament.

“How original, making the blind boy catch.” Ominis deadpanned as he reached for the towel before wiping himself off. 

Tying the towel around his waist as he looked for his clean clothes that they transfigured out of their dirty, dusty, and wet clothes. The blame both his sweet little geyser of a girlfriend took bashfully and he pridefully accepted. From across the room he could feel her staring at him.

A low smirk spread on his lips as he flexed and moved his body. Giving his girlfriend a show of muscles as he moved around pretending to not know where his clothes were. After a few minutes of back and forth and deliberate stopping in her line of view she figured out his play.

She scoffed once more before she walked over to him. Her body clad in a white chemise that flowed with her body, in his black vision the flowy material of chemise’s flow looked like a glow.

“You’re ridiculous Omi,” She said as she handed her his clothes, “You need to start hanging out with more people besides me and Sebastian.” She added.

"To be honest, I’d much rather just spend time with you than him," he said smoothly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "But, as it turns out, once you feed a stray cat, it never leaves your side." His tone was light, but the subtle tilt of his head and the warmth in his voice made it clear he was just joking.

She laughed before helping him button his shirt up. A thing she did without him asking to, something that she loved to do for him. As she buttoned him up she stood on one leg as the other traced his calf up and down. A mindless act that she did whenever she was fixing his hair, straightening his tie, or buttoning him up like now.

Ominis wore a sly smile, the unmistakable kind that said, I’ve got you now. It was the same look he’d had when he caught Sebastian sneaking one of his dozen prized Honeydukes chocolates. At first, Sebastian had waved it off, calling him paranoid, claiming he was imagining things. “One missing chocolate? Really, Ominis, don’t be ridiculous,” he’d said with all the feigned innocence he could muster.

But the moment Ominis caught him red-handed—his fingers quite literally in the jar—there was no escaping the truth. Not even Sebastian’s silver tongue could twist the situation in his favor. Manipulating Ominis was one thing; doing it after being so clearly exposed was another entirely.

“May I ask what is the smile for Ominis?” The girl asked as she straightened up his collar.

Ominis leaned back with a knowing smirk, his pale eyes narrowing in amusement as he replied in his smooth drawl, "You, my love. You and your insatiable need to constantly touch me." He let the words hang in the air before adding with deliberate provocation, "If I were to accept this challenge of yours, you’d have already lost.” He paused again as if to strike the hammer on the nail with precision he said “Right now."

The statement was so utterly absurd to his girlfriend that a burst of laughter escaped her, but as she detangled herself from him, her expression shifted into something more serious—a flicker of offense that made Ominis sit up straighter.

"That’s it, Gaunt," she declared, crossing her arms and putting deliberate distance between them. "We’re doing this silly little challenge."

Whatever she thought she was proving, Ominis didn’t seem fazed. He tilted his head in her direction, his smirk unbroken. "Whatever you say, my love," he mused, clearly convinced she’d either forget about it or abandon it the moment it became inconvenient.

But he couldn’t have been more wrong.

Her voice took on a determined edge as she began listing rules, and Ominis’s smirk faltered slightly.

"No touching—only cordial hugs and hand-holding allowed. Playing with each other’s hair? Fine. Napping on the other person? Acceptable. Cuddling? That's fine too. Kissing on the cheeks and lips? Also permitted, but no funny business."

She was pacing now, counting on her fingers with military precision.

"No masturbation. For either of us. For a week."

Ominis raised an eyebrow, his composure slipping just a fraction. "A week? That’s absurd," he muttered, but she ignored him.

"No explicit letters," she continued, her tone sharp. "No flirty innuendos. And-" she turned, leveling a pointed look at him, "no avoiding each other to make this easier. We stay in close proximity. The whole time."

By the time she finished, Ominis was leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, staring in her direction with a mixture of disbelief and amusement. "You’ve put an alarming amount of thought into this," he said dryly, though there was no hiding the faint trace of nerves creeping into his voice.

She simply grinned, her earlier offense replaced with pure determination. "Oh, I plan to win this, Gaunt."

Ominis chuckled softly, shaking his head. "I think you might have just made this harder on yourself than on me." His voice was laced with amusement, but the flicker of hesitation in his expression hinted at the battle of wills that was about to unfold.

The warmth of the Great Hall lingered as the girls gathered their belongings, lighthearted exchanges filling the air. The girl, lost in her thoughts, trailed slightly behind, her uncertainty about Ominis gnawing at her composure. Imelda’s chuckle brought her back to reality, her friend clearly noticing the worry etched across her face.

“You’ll figure it out,” Imelda quipped with a playful nudge, but before the girl could respond, Poppy elbowed her with a subtle reminder to tread lightly, while Natty offered Imelda a reproachful glance.

As the group of friends exited the hall, chatting idly about their next class, the familiar voices of Ominis and Sebastian drifted behind them. Ominis’s distinct, calm cadence reached her just as he called out, "My love."

He gently pulled her aside, the briefest touch guiding her into his arms for a warm embrace. "How was your breakfast?" he asked, his tone genuine, though the faintest glimmer of mischief danced behind his milky eyes. It was a look that always left her guessing, and today was no exception.

“It was delicious, Omi,” she replied, her voice light and steady as she raised her hands in a mock shrug. "What about you? Did you enjoy the custard pie? They had that raspberry compote you always rave about."

A smile tugged at his lips as he nodded. "I did. It was delightful, thank you. But..." His voice softened, slipping into a teasing lilt, "why weren’t you sitting with me? You’re not avoiding me, are you?"

She laughed, brushing her fingers across his cheek in a gesture so familiar it was second nature. "You’re being ridiculous, Omi. I’ll have lunch with you, I promise. I was just catching up with the girls since dinner got, well... cut short yesterday."

His cheeks flushed faintly at her pointed reminder of why their dinner had ended early, the heat rising to his face unmistakable.

"Bye, Omi," she said softly, leaning closer to plant a feather-light kiss on his cheek. The tips of his ears turned crimson, his breath catching for the briefest moment as he held onto her voice like a melody.

"I’ll see you at lunch, darling," he replied, his tone soft yet tinged with affection. Taking her hand in his, he pressed a kiss to the back of it, a gallant and tender gesture that sent her heart fluttering.

She bit back a smile, her own cheeks heating to a soft pink as she hurried back to join her friends, their knowing glances waiting for her.

"You mustn't worry so much," Natty said gently, her warm smile matched by the soothing spring breeze that brushed past them, carrying the scent of blooming flowers.

"Why is that?" the girl asked, her cheeks already tinged with a soft pink.

"Because," Imelda interjected with her signature bluntness, a teasing grin lighting up her face, "you have a visceral effect on your big boyfriend."

The girl’s eyes widened at the choice of words, her blush deepening, but Imelda wasn’t done. She leaned in slightly, her voice dripping with mischief. "Honestly, I’d wager he was about three seconds away from pinning you to the wall and snogging you senseless."

"Imelda!" Poppy scolded, her tone scandalized as she shot the other girl a look. But even as she played the voice of reason, there was a knowing glint in her eyes. She turned back to their wide eyed, blushing friend, offering a reassuring pat on her shoulder. "She’s being obnoxious, yes, but she’s not wrong."

The girl opened her mouth to protest, but no words came. Instead, her mind spun with her friends’ observations, leaving her flustered and stammering as they strolled along, Natty’s soft laughter and Imelda’s triumphant smirk ringing in her ears.

The end...

You guys I need to go bed. I am starting my class techinally today and I decided to write this brain rot instead of doing lecture notes. But I have no regrets I just need sleep.

Also I am planning on writing four alternate ending. Two for reader when she wins and loses. two for ominis when he wins/ loses.

divider by: @pommecita

[wowzees]

Scarred Without Stars

warnings: angst!!!! suicide, lando’s oblivious (kinda a dick ngl)

characters in this story are NOT LIKE THIS IN REAL LIFE! this is JUST A STORY

word count:1172

Y/N’s POV

I met him the way you meet a storm—slow at first, then all at once. Lando Norris. My best friend. My person. The one who made me feel like the world was a little less sharp.

He never looked at me the way I looked at him, but that didn’t stop me from following him from track to track. From city to city. Smiling like I wasn’t falling apart every time he hugged me like I was just another one of the guys.

He always called me his constant. I think he meant it as a compliment. I let it feel like one.

But constant can also mean replaceable. Predictable. Background noise.

Diary Entry — August 17th I watched him sleep on the plane today. Mouth open. Hoodie up. Ridiculous.

He trusts me enough to fall asleep next to me. That has to mean something, right?

He joked about soulmates. Said, “Maybe I’ll just marry you if I don’t find someone.”

I laughed. But I felt it. In my ribs.

I think I’m already in love with him.

Lando’s POV

Y/N was comfort. The kind you forget to be grateful for until it disappears.

She was the one person who never changed around me. Never flinched when the headlines changed or the pressure cracked my voice. She just… existed. Fully and warmly. Right there.

I called her my best friend like it was protection. Maybe it was. Maybe I knew on some level that I didn’t deserve anything more from her.

She made things quieter. Calmer. Better. And I never told her that.

Y/N’s POV

He was rising. The world was beginning to notice him the way I had from the start. I wanted to be proud. I was. But he started drifting, one race, one photoshoot, one new city at a time.

I was still there, behind the velvet ropes and the noise. Still hoping he’d look back at me.

The space between us grew slowly. Not enough to panic—just enough to ache.

Diary Entry — March 2nd He didn’t text me back for three days. Said he was “just busy.”

I know he’s busy. He’s always busy. But I’m still here.

Sometimes I think he doesn’t know how much space he takes up in my head.

Or worse — he knows, and it doesn’t matter.

Diary Entry — May 10th We sat on a rooftop last night, overlooking Singapore. He talked about the stars like they were his to chase.

I nodded, smiled, laughed in the right places.

He didn’t ask me what I was thinking.

I don’t think he ever does.

Lando’s POV

I started forgetting little things—her favorite gum, the way she always sat facing the door in restaurants. I didn’t mean to. Life was just… moving fast.

But she never got in the way. Never complained.

She was always there.

And I took that for granted.

Y/N’s POV

Magui was everything I wasn’t. Bright, gorgeous, exciting.

He didn’t even hesitate.

He picked her.

And I smiled through it. Said she was lovely. Said he deserved to be happy.

Then I went back to my hotel and screamed into the pillow until I couldn’t feel my lungs.

Diary Entry — November 11th She’s beautiful.

Magui. Even her name is prettier than mine.

He looked at her the way I look at him. And the worst part? I helped him pick out the outfit for their first date.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Diary Entry — December 3rd We were at dinner. She touched his hand. He laughed and leaned into her.

I excused myself and cried in the bathroom.

When I came back, he asked if I was okay. I smiled.

He believed it.

Lando’s POV

Magui was fire. Y/N was warmth.

One dazzled. One steadied.

I didn’t think about what it meant to choose one over the other.

She never said a word. Just kept being there.

And I kept letting her.

I didn’t realize I was asking her to watch herself be replaced.

Y/N’s POV

I came to Monaco. He didn’t even notice I was there until day three.

I watched him kiss her behind the paddock.

I left early.

Diary Entry — June 26th People say heartbreak feels like drowning. This feels more like watching the boat sail away with your lungs still inside it.

He posted her again today. Called her “my home.”

I wonder if I ever even made the list.

Diary Entry — August 19th It’s been weeks since he called.

I know he’s happy.

And I want that for him. I really do.

But I can’t remember the last time someone looked at me like I was a reason to stay.

Lando’s POV

She came to Monaco and stood by the railing like she was already part of the past.

I told myself she was fine. She always smiled.

I didn’t ask if it was real.

That’s on me.

Y/N’s POV

I saw him in Venice. He didn’t see me.

He was proposing. She was crying. Everyone was clapping.

And I was nothing more than a footnote.

Diary Entry — February 3rd I stood on the dock in Venice today. He didn’t see me.

They were kissing. It was sunset. It looked like a movie.

I was supposed to be the extra, I guess.

People say it takes six months to fall in love. So have I fallen in love with you six times over? Or have I just wasted my life waiting for you to notice?

I don’t know which answer hurts more.

Final Entry — March 21st I feel like I’ve been fading for a while now.

I don’t blame him. Not really.

But I wish he had said something — anything — that made me believe I wasn’t invisible.

If someone finds this, don’t make him the villain. He was my best friend. That’s the saddest part of all.

He was the sun. And I melted quietly.

Lando’s POV

When they called me, I couldn’t breathe. It felt like the walls of the world collapsed inward.

Her mother handed me her notebook.

She said, “She wanted you to have this.”

And when I opened it, the first thing I saw was that line:

"People say it takes six months to fall in love. So have I fallen in love with you six times over, or just wasted my life waiting for you?"

I broke.

I break a little more every day.

I read every word she wrote like it was scripture.

She was everything.

And I never told her.

Now I race with a ghost in the passenger seat.

I talk to the sky. I hope she hears me.

I loved her.

But I didn’t say it in time.

Now I speak to the stars, hoping she’s somewhere past them.

And knowing she was always more than I deserved.

[polarisjisung]

LOVE ON THE COURT 11 | DINNER DATE?

SYNOPSIS | every college student has their struggles, but raising her younger brother has Y/N top of the list, struggling her way through college whilst balancing her academics and basketball captaincy is difficult no doubt and with Jaemin, her ex best friend and captain of the guys basketball team, and his growing one sided hatred towards her, it doesn't seem to be getting any easier

WARNINGS | swearing, sexual innuendos, kys/kms jokes

NOTES | sorry for the random pause in updates, but regular updates are back now! I had a lot going on so I'm sorry I couldn't update :( also what's everyone's opinions on rain in heaven 👀?

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[fairykingjing]

Roronoa Zoro x F Reader - Relief

Summary: You’re injured, and haven’t gotten any alone time with your boyfriend, Roronoa Zoro. He offers to help you get some relief. ;)

Warnings: SMUT! 18+! Established relationship, female reader, making out, fingering, orgasms, mentions of p in v sex, creampie, cockwarming. Reader denied sex due to injuries.

WC: 1263

First time writing smut, but I figured it was good enough to post so here ya go! Enjoy!

18+! MDNI!

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

You were on the deck of the Sunny, lounging in a chair and soaking up as much sun as you could. Chopper had finally let you out of the med bay after keeping you there for a week. During your last fight the crew got a little scuffed up, you especially taking the brunt of the damage. Besides the standard scrapes and bruises, you had a large gash running horizontally across the left side of your stomach, and another smaller one on your right thigh. You still hadn’t recovered fully, and to be honest you could hardly walk, but you were relieved to be out of that stuffy room.

Across the deck, you could see Usopp and Luffy fishing off the side of the boat, and Robin was enjoying a book. Franky was tinkering with a new gadget, and Nami was studying her maps to figure out the next place to go. You scanned the deck for your boyfriend, Zoro, but he was nowhere to be seen. Probably taking a nap somewhere, you thought to yourself. Almost on cue, you felt a looming presence over you, and you looked up to see him standing over you. “What are you doing out of the med bay? Your injuries aren’t even close to being healed.” he asked.

“Well hello to you too,” you retorted. “Chopper said I could come up on the deck to get some fresh air, that room was getting suffocating.”

Zoro frowned, clearly not happy with your answer. But if Chopper said it was okay, who was he to argue? You motioned to the seat next to yours, and he sat down carefully. “Did you walk up here yourself?” he questioned. “You didn’t seem like you could walk all that well yesterday.”

“I still can’t walk, honestly. Chopper and Sanji helped me get up here,” you answered.

“The cook? Why didn’t you ask me to help you?” he pouted.

“Because Chopper couldn’t find you anywhere, and Sanji was available. So he offered to help me,” you said. “By the way, where were you?”

Zoro shifted in his chair awkwardly. “Just busy taking care of something, that’s all,” he mumbled. You could see the blush creeping up towards his face, and you clued in on what he was referring to. Neither of you had gotten any alone time in quite a while, between preparations for your last fight, and dealing with the aftermath, it had been several weeks since either of you got any release. You were dying for some relief yourself, if you could only reach your hand down to do it, but the bandages got in the way. Before you could say anything to him about that, Sanji called everyone to dinner, and Zoro got up to help you hobble your way towards the dining room, before finally just picking you up to carry you there.

Dinner was mostly uneventful, and you spent it trying to come up with a way to ask Zoro to help you with your problem. He could handle himself just fine, but you would need a little assistance. You figured asking to spend some time together in his room, alone, would be the best option. From there you could broach the subject. “You wanna spend some alone time together?” he’d asked. “If it means you’ll rest, then sure.”

He carried you to his room, carefully laying you on his hammock. After some pleading, he reluctantly agreed to climb in with you, gingerly setting himself next to you and pulling you into his arms. He placed a soft kiss on top of your head. “Better?” he asked. You nodded your head in response. You both stayed like that for a while before he spoke up. “What did you want to talk about?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” you asked in response.

“Don’t play dumb, I know there’s something you want to ask me, or tell me. So just say it,” he continued.

“Oh, I um… it-it’s nothing, really,” you sputtered. You tried to look away, but his hand cupped your cheek, and he pulled your face to look at his. You found yourself unable to look away from him despite your best efforts. “I just… we haven’t really gotten to be intimate in a while, and now I have all these stupid injuries so we still can’t do anything. And I’d get myself off, but I can’t with these bandages in the way…” you rambled. Your face heated up as you spoke, unable to stop the spew of words from your mouth.

“So, you’re horny? Why didn’t you just say so?” Zoro chuckled.

“I don’t know…” you whined. His hand still on your cheek, he pulled you in for a tender kiss, one that quickly became heated. His other hand reached down to carefully squeeze your ass, and you gasped, giving him the opportunity to slot his tongue in your mouth. You made out for a while, feeling lust pooling at your core. You wanted him more than anything now, but you weren’t physically capable yet.

“We have to be careful; I don’t want your injuries to flare up,” he cautioned. “But I can still help you get some relief, okay?” You nodded eagerly, and he carefully pulled your pants and underwear down in one swift motion. His hand quickly dipped down to your core, groaning as he felt how wet you were. He carefully studied your face for any signs of discomfort before dipping a finger into your folds, gathering up some of the wetness and then circling his finger around your clit. You let out a breathy moan and arched your back, finally getting the touch you had been craving. He dipped two fingers inside and curled them up, massaging everywhere he knew would get you going. His mouth returned to yours, kissing you softly as he coaxed your first release out of you. You cried out in pleasure, and he smiled down at you, pulling his hand back. “That’s it,” he hummed. “Feel better?”

You nodded in affirmation, but you couldn’t help to want more. You knew it was risky, but you brought your hand down to his erection anyway and began to stroke him. He was quick to swat your hand away. “What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded.

“Please Zoro, I need you. We can be careful, yeah? Wanna feel you fill me up,” you begged.

He simply shook his head at you. “It’s too risky with your injuries. But I promise as soon as you’re healed up fully, you’ll get as much of me as you can handle.”

“Zo, please?” you whimpered.

“Shh,” Zoro shushed you. He brought his hand back down and dipped his fingers in again, expertly moving them in and out of you at a quick pace. “Promise babe, soon as you’re healed, I’ll fill you up so full. Gonna stuff you full of my cum til you can’t hold anymore, let you sleep every night with my cock deep inside you. Just be patient for me.” His words brought you over the edge again, and you released all over his hand. He quickly kissed you to swallow the moans you let out. He rested his forehead against yours and smiled as you caught your breath.

“You promise?” you asked.

“Of course. Now try and get some rest,” he murmured. He pulled you into his arms again and you sighed contently. It didn’t take long for both of you to drift off to sleep, dreaming of how wonderful everything would be once you were all better.

[thegreymarveljedi]

Surprise for You

(Wrecker x Reader)

Here is a story that came to me out of the blue, super happy and fluffy with some spice thrown in. Why not right? I love Wrecker’s character, he’s a giant teddy bear with a heart of gold and a winning smile.

All of the bad batch deserve to be happy and that’s how this one shot goes. Tech is alive in this one too, if you’ve read my other stories you know why, cause I also love him and he didn’t deserve to die. This is a post! Tantiss story so they’re on Pabu living their best lives.

(Divider done by @snotbuggle )

Warnings: FLUFF, SMUTT, lingerie, teasing, p in v sex, size! Kink, breeding! kink, nipple play, rough sex, slow/fast pace, oral f! Receiving, pet names, cum play, over stimulation, multiple orgasms, cumflation

Words: 6.6+K (I’m not sorry)

“Mesh’la! I’m home and I’ve got dinner for us!”

“Sounds good honey! I’ll be right out okay?”

“Take your time ner sarad,” Wrecker spoke as he placed the fresh vegetables and fish on the counter in their kitchen. He smiled contently at the little home they had built together. It was a cozy place where he could relax and not have to look over his shoulder for fear of danger. Big enough for him to fit comfortably and have plenty of manoeuvring room but small enough not to feel overwhelming and uncomfortable.

Wrecker and his brothers had been living on Pabu for close to a full year now, making their own way and helping the citizens of the island as best they could. He himself had become a fisherman, going out on the boat daily and catching what he could. He found that he enjoyed the serenity that fishing brought, the cool breeze off the ocean making him feel like he was receiving a very nice hug. The other fishermen who went with him enjoyed listening to his stories as well as his joy when he’d catch a big fish, his happiness and excitement contagious.

Hunter had become a woodworker, making things for the island and helping to build things when needed. He was skilled with his hands, helping to build new homes and improve currents ones. He had found such peace in the work, using his enhancements for crafting and various carpentry jobs.

Crosshair had made his living as a farmer, growing fruits and vegetables and selling them at the local market. It had taken him a few weeks to truly feel comfortable being around the people especially after loosing his hand. But slowly and surely he came out of his shell. He became a new person; less snarky, more relaxed and a lot happier.

Tech had become a doctor and a therapist, working in the island clinic along side (Y/N). He had wanted to do something more with his vast knowledge after Tantiss. He was determined to stay away from the fighting but still wanted to aid his traumatized brothers. He found peace in helping, always being there for any clone that Rex and Echo brought to the island.

(Y/N) had been the Bad batch’s Jedi medic since just after the start of the war. She had been so soft spoken and kind to the batch. Always there to lend a hand and patch them up after difficult missions.

She and Wrecker had gotten together during the middle of the war, both shy in showing their love for one another but it was meant to be. After everything they had been through, together and as a squad, they deserved to be happy.

Wrecker had proposed right after Tantiss, not wanting to waste another minute of time without calling (Y/N) his wife. She had said yes without a second thought and everyone was ecstatic, Omega most of all. She saw (Y/N) as a mother figure and couldn’t wait to have some part in the wedding.

She had insisted on helping with every step she could, even learning to make dresses if she needed to. Everyone had laughed at her enthusiasm, happy that she was so excited.

Wrecker sat on the couch, reclined with his head resting on the back of it and a smile on his face, reflecting on the past year. Life was good now, Tantiss far behind them. He was content and his brothers were happy which is all he could ask for. He had a beautiful wife, a great home and loving people surrounding him. It was all too good to be true, but it was his reality now.

“Jariler?”

Wrecker was snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of the voice, turning his head to the side a little at the call of his nickname, though he was not prepared for what greeted him. His eyes went wide as saucers, sitting up a little at the sight of his wife in the doorway to their bedroom.

(Y/N) was wearing the most gorgeous silk lingerie, red in colour, paired with a sexy and seductive long black robe. Both pieces of clothing extenuated her body, hips and breasts both looking evening bigger than normal. Her legs were shimmering in the dying light of the day that cascaded through the window, her face lighting up in a golden hue.

“Woah,” was all Wrecker could think to respond with, all other words and thoughts leaving his head as he stared at his wife. She smiled shy at him, adjusting the robe a little bit and doing a little spin, causing the robe to fan out around her.

“Do you like it?” She asked and Wrecker just kept staring at her, his mouth open and eyes wide. He had no words available to him to describe how amazing she looked, her beauty unmatched by anything he had ever seen. She began to fidget a little more before Wrecker finally snapped out of his shock and stood up quickly, making a beeline for (Y/N) and wrapping his arms around her. He picked her up and spun her around making her laugh, his own joyous chuckle leaking out into the air.

“Mesh’la. You look absolutely stunning in this,” Wrecker said as he placed his wife back on her feet slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. She smiled shyly up at him, her hands resting on his shoulders as she looked at him. Wrecker too another moment to admire her before he tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear, bulling her cheek once he did. She leaned into his large palm, feeling the warmth radiating off his hand.

At that moment it was just them and nothing else, the world seemingly drowned out around them. The soft sounds of the ocean could be heard and the moon-yo’s too but nothing else existed in their home. Wrecker took (Y/N)’s hand and gave her a spin, resting his hand on her hip as she completed the 360 turn. (Y/N) smiled and placed one of her hands on Wrecker’s shoulder again, the other finding his other hand and holding it.

Wrecker clued into what she wanted and lifted there joined hands together, beginning to sway with his beloved in his arms just like they had done on their wedding day. They had no music in the moment but neither of them seemed to care much, and in the dying light of dusk, they danced together in their living room, content just to be in each others arms.

“Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum ner cyare,” Wrecker whispered softly as he leaned down and placed his forehead against (Y/N)’s. She smiled and returned the words, closing her eyes and allowing the last of the days warmth to envelop her along with Wreckers. She closed her eyes contently, beginning to hum a small tune as their only song to dance too.

Wrecker smiled and moved them around the living room a little more, twirling (Y/N) around and watching as the robe fanned out around her once more. It was mesmerizing to watch, the fabric soft and luscious, making her look like a vision from the maker. Wrecker pulled her back into his arms, slowing their movements down until they were swaying in place again, smiling like idiots at one another. They stayed there for another moment before Wrecker let go of her hand, moving to place it against her other hip.

She smiled as a small shiver ran through her body, Wrecker’s hands moving to be inside the robe she wore, running them up and down her sides teasingly. He squeezed her hips before moving his hands down to ass, giving it a firm squeeze making (Y/N) gasp.

“Wrecker,” she whispered to him, her eyes fluttering open to meet his. He had a mischievous smirk on his face as he continued to fondle her behind, pulling his wife impossibly closer to him.

“Yes my love?” Wrecker replied his eyes roaming over her chest. He was fixated on her breasts, the material of her lingerie framing them perfectly. It made them look so round and perfect, her nipples poking through the fabric as another shiver wracked her body.

(Y/N)’s body arched into Wrecker’s touch as he moved his hands upward, running his thumbs over her perked nipples. She whined at the feeling, her legs beginning to shake as Wrecker teased her. She had worn the lingerie to entice him, though the amount of love he had shown her had been a nice addition to the sexy night she was hoping to have. She keened again as Wrecker continued to play with her breasts through the fabric of her bra, the words she had on her mind evaporating before they could leave her lips.

“What is it net sarad?” Wrecker asked again, his smirk only growing wider as he watched (Y/N)’s nipples harden even more. He knew what he was doing to her, playing her body like a well practiced instrument with dexterity and ease. (Y/N) keened again, her hands finding some purchase on Wreckers biceps, squeezing the firm muscles as a way of grounding.

“Need you Wrecker… please,” she moaned out as Wrecker gave her breasts a squeeze grinning as she threw her head back. He knew what he was doing to her but he also knew what she was doing, he outfit of choice not just something casual she would usually wear around the house.

“Is that what this outfit was for? Get me all worked up so I would fuck ya mesh’la?” Wrecker said huskily and (Y/N) nodded, not even trying to deny her intentions. She could never lie to her gentle giant husband, Wrecker being able to read her like time bomb instruction manual. Wrecker chuckled darkly at his wife, pulling away almost fully to gaze over her gorgeous body again.

“I could devour you cyar’ika. Make you cum on my tongue again and again and again,” he said and pulled her back into his, burying his face in her neck. (Y/N) let out a sinful moan as Wrecker bit down, sucking a mark into her flesh as a way to claim her as his.

“But,” he said and pulled back, admiring his handy work on her neck. She stood there with glazed eyes, legs shaking and an adorably dopey grin on her face, though it disappeared when Wrecker pulled away fully.

“B-but what?” She asked shakily and reached for him, afraid that something was wrong.

“We need to eat dinner first! I don’t want these ingredients to go to waste,” he said with a smile, one that told (Y/N) that he was genuine. She titled her head to the right and tried to hold back a small sigh of frustration, the mood of their previous activities almost completely vanishing. She nodded and went to turn away, ready to walk back to their bedroom and get changed into other clothes.

Before (Y/N) got three full step away from him, Wrecker let out a playful roar and came at her from behind, picking her up and spinning her around again. He laughed at the yelp she let out, her body tensing before she relaxed her feeling meeting the ground again. Wrecker pulled (Y/N) against him, grinding his still semi hard erection against her plump behind, reaching his hands around her body to grab at her breasts again. She moaned at both sensations her head falling back against his chest as he ravaged her body and neck, peppering nips and kisses wherever he could reach.

“You didn’t think I was serious did you?” Wrecker whispered in her ear, his voice deep and teasing. (Y/N) nodded and curled her arms up to hold Wreckers forearms, his hands still playing with her breasts.

“O-of course I thought y-ohh, you were serious,” she replied quietly, hearing Wrecker chuckle deeply.

“I would never do that to you cyar’ika. You’ve got me harder than durasteel right now with how sexy you look,” he said huskily, voice dripping with the promise to take her to bed and fuck her good.

“Mmm, Wrecker. Honey please.”

“You go get comfy in our bed ner Sarad. I’m going to put the fish and vegetables away quickly,” he said and (Y/N) nodded, practically sprinting back to their bedroom when Wrecker released her, looking forward to their night of fun to come.

Wrecker chuckled as he watched his beloved wife retreat to their room, ready to fuck her brains out all night long. He quickly followed through with his previously stated task, putting away his catch of the day along with the vegetables in their big fridge before he too made it to the bedroom.

As he got closer to the room he could see a faint light coming from it, a sweet smell that he somehow didn’t catch before wafting out. When he entered, he was greeted by the soft smell of berries and vanilla, incense burning on the dresser and tea candles lighting the room in a soft glow. Everything else had been set up as well, their usual canteens of water and a pile of snacks for after their love making as well as clean sheets and towels waiting to be used.

(Y/N) was sprawled out in the middle of the bed, robe now discarded and hung up as to not get ruined and her lingerie set still remaining on her body. They made eye contact as Wrecker entered the room, both looking over each other with hungry eyes. Wrecker let out a teasing growl, his Adam’s apple rippling and his muscles tensing. (Y/N)’s eyes roamed over her husbands frame, his body large and intimidating to most but soft and welcoming to her. She was practically stripping him with her eyes, yearning to feel his hands on her once again. Wrecker was doing the same, hungry eyes roaming over his wife’s perfect body, imagining all the things that he could do to her.

His eyes focused on her stomach, the soft supple flesh something he always enjoyed playing with. It wasn’t a very common thing but Wrecker loved it, running his hands over (Y/N)’s torso, feeling her soft skin and squishy stomach. Then his mind began wondering even more, to the possibility of other things. He imagined what she would look like big and round, her belly protruding and swollen with their children. Wrecker let the thoughts overwhelm him, imagining having a full house of little ones running around, seeing (Y/N), himself and even his brothers doting on their kids.

Wrecker was pulled out of his thoughts by a gentle hand on his cheek, flinching at the unexpected contact. He hadn’t even noticed (Y/N) get up from the bed, her hand warm as it rested on his face. He looked down into her eyes, her (E/C) pools conveying an aura of slight confusion.

“What is it Wrecker? What’s wrong,” she asked quietly, running her thumb over his cheek and underneath his eye. It was then he realized that there were tears streaming down his face slowly, the thoughts of what could be making him emotional. He lifted his hand to hold (Y/N)’s that rested in his cheek, his eyes never leaving hers this time.

“Was just thinkin’ bout our future. Our life together and how happy you make me,” he said, leaning down and connecting their foreheads together in a keldabe kiss. (Y/N) smiled and closed her eyes at the gesture, content to give Wrecker a few moments to explain or to just stay put.

“You make me happy too Wrecker. I’m so lucky to have you in my arms,” (Y/N) replied, moving her body impossibly closer to his large frame, soaking up the natural heat he exuded.

“I can just picture you all big and round, swollen with our ad’ikas inside you,” Wrecker let slip his thoughts, his mind wondering to the future his subconscious mind had conjured up, feeling nothing but love in his heart as he watched his children run around and laugh with his wife following lot to far behind. He was once again snapped out of his thoughts by a soft groan, (Y/N) tapping into his thoughts to see what he was seeing. It was beautiful, so many of them running around and the thought of how they got there made her knees weak and her pussy wet.

They both blinked out of the fantasy together, meeting each other’s eyes once more before Wrecker picked her up with ease, her legs wrapping securely around his waist. He backed them both up to the wall, one that they purposely left completely bare for nights like this. Their lips met in a fiery kiss, the imaginary world they had seen fuelling their already stoked desires. Wreckers hands were on (Y/N)’s behind in a heart beat, fondling her rounded globes and kneeling the soft flesh. She whined into their kiss, his hands feeling immaculate as they groped her ass.

“Honey,” (Y/N) moaned, breaking the kiss as Wrecker pulled away and buried his face in her neck, nipping and sucking marks into it. She giggled slightly before sighing as he reached her ticklish spot, sucking a mark onto it before blowing a raspberry to the spot.

“Wrecker!” She laughed as he chuckled, planting more little kisses all over her neck and face. Her smile was wide, meeting her eyes and creating crows feet at the sides. Her hands wrapped around his neck, her legs squeezing his waist and grinding herself against his front.

“Kriff, mesh’la that feels so good,” Wrecker said, his eyes closing as he savoured the feeling of his wife grinding on him. One of his hands moved from her ass and instead took hold of her wrists, pinning them up above her head. The new angle elongated her torso, her breasts bouncing as her core was somehow placed more firmly against his crotch.

Wreckers eyes found (Y/N)’s chest again, her breast practically in his face with the position they were in. Her nipples were hard, the little pebbles poking through the fabric of her bra. Wrecker growled and dove forward again, this time hiding his face between her boobs before turning his head and taking one of her purt nipple into his mouth. (Y/N) moaned at the sensation, Wrecker’s talented tongue and the fabric of the bra working together to bring her so much pleasure. Wrecker’s other hand gravitated up towards her other breast, taking the pert little bud between in large fingers and rolling it.

“Fuck baby that feels so good,” (Y/N) moaned her head thrown back as Wrecker lavished her chest with attention and affection. Wrecker growled against her, moving back up her body to her neck once more. He laid a few more bite marks around her neck as his hand continued to tweak one of her breast. The feeling made her grind down even harder on Wrecker’s crotch, chasing her release already.

Wrecker must have understood her body language like he always does, lifting his thigh and pushing it against the wall, effectively having (Y/N) ride his thigh. She groaned is Wreckers good ear, feeling his thigh tense as she begin to grind on it.

“That’s it mesh’la, grind your pussy on my thigh. You like it don’t you?” He teased, not allowing her a response as he sealed his lips against hers. All (Y/N) could do was moan into the kiss and she sped up her pace, her high right there. Wrecker indulged her, tensing and relaxing his thigh over and over until (Y/N) broke the kiss and cried out.

“Wreckerrr!” She moaned as she was thrust over the edge, her orgasm hitting her like a tone of bricks. Wrecker smirked as he assisted her in riding it out, slowly dragging his thigh out from between her legs and helping her to set her feet on the ground. (Y/N)’s knees buckled, almost collapsing forward had it not been for Wrecker holding her up. She giggled dazedly up at her husband, her post orgasmic state making her feel light and airy.

“Don’t tell me that’s all you have in you tonight cyar’ika,” Wrecker whispered, letting go of her arms and instead wrapping his around her waist. (Y/N) frantically shook her head, eyes meeting Wrecker’s as she came back to reality again.

“No way am I done. You haven’t filled me up yet,” she said with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. Wrecker groaned at the filthy words that left her lips, his mind going back to the fantasy he had envisioned when he first walked into their bedroom. His reserve and resolve crumbled as he picked her up by her hips, effortlessly tossing her on their bed. She bounced on the bed and giggled, sitting up on her elbows and letting her head fall back between her shoulders as Wrecker covered her body with his own.

“Gonna make you feel so good cyare. Gonna fill that tight pussy up till you’re you can’t take anymore,” Wrecker said making (Y/N) whimper. The promise behind his words was something she would hold him too, wanting to feel every inch of him inside of her. He was big, and she loved that about him, his size making her feel safe all while giving her an insane amount of pleasure. His body dwarfed her own, making her feel small but loved. He dove back in and kissed down her body, leaving love bites wherever there was exposed skin as he made his way down to her lower lips. They were hidden from his gaze by her beautiful red panties, the lace fabric teasing him as he looked on.

“These look so beautiful on you ner sarad. Shame I’m gonna have to take ‘em off ya,” Wrecker said, slowly trailing his hands down to body to the waist band of her underwear. There was no protest from (Y/N) as she lifted her hips, giving Wrecker more room to remove her undergarments. He did so with delicate hands kissing down her smooth legs as he went. Once he had her panties completely off he brought them to his noes, taking a large inhale.

She always smelled so sweet to him, her natural lubricant something he was enamoured with no matter how odd it sounded. His eyes closed as he took it all before throwing the panties aside and spreading his wife’s gorgeous legs. She didn’t resist the attention, watching as Wrecker exposed her pussy to his eyes. He groaned, not waiting another second before going head first between her legs, licking a long strip from her hole to her clit, pulling a long loud moan from (Y/N)’s lips.

“FUckkk.” Her voice was like a proton torpedo to his ears, the sound making a shutter run through him and straight to his cock. He was already rock hard but the sounds he was pulling from her made him twitch. He continued to devour her pussy, alternating between sucking on her clit and fucking her with his tongue. He was in heaven at this moment, moving her legs so they rested over his broad shoulders. This position gave him more access to her pussy, moving his left hand down to rub her clit as he sucked at her pussy.

“Make me feel so good Wreck. Fuck I love it when you fuck my pussy with your tongue,” (Y/N) moaned, looking down at Wrecker as his eyes looked back at her, his head not moving from its place between her thighs. His fingers and mouth switched places, his lips capturing her clit as he eased a finger into her. He groaned as her pussy swallowed his finger effortlessly, feeling her clench even if he hadn’t done much of anything to her yet.

“Haven’t even stretched you open and you’re already tightening round my finger,” he groaned against her clit, the vibration sending shockwave through her spine.

“Can’t help it big guy, you make me feel so go-“ her finally word was cut off as Wrecker entered two more fingers in at once, pumping them in slowly until he was up to his knuckle.

“Nghh Wrecker baby please, please I need you,” she moaned, falling back into the pillows and wreathing around. Her hips bucked up to meet Wreckers tongue and fingers, drawing her pleasure out.

“Gotta open you up first baby, can’t have you hurting yourself on my cock,” Wrecker teased, beginning to move his fingers in and out of her tight opening faster. (Y/N) screamed, tossing her head from side to side and Wrecker drew moan after moan out of her. Her legs began to twitch on his shoulders, hands coming up to cover her mouth but was stopped by Wrecker taking hold of her wrists.

“No you don’t sweet girl. I want to hear every sound that comes outta that filthy little mouth of yours,” he growled, curling his fingers against her g-spot making keen and moan loudly. His words set her body aflame, his fingers, his mouth, him, making her come undone for the second time that evening.

“Ahhhhh~” Her hips bucked as her orgasm overwhelmed her, key shaking and spasming with the force of it. Wrecker held her hips still as she twitched, eyes closed as she continued to convulse. Wrecker smirked as he watched his wife come undone, proud of himself for what he could accomplish. Wrecker didn’t hold back as he thrusted his fingers into (Y/N)’s still clenching walls, making her yell in surprise before another scream left her lips.

“W-w-wreckerrrrr.” Her voice was broken as Wrecker continued to finger fuck her again, scissoring his fingers against her velvety insides. His goal was to make her come at least one more time before he impaled her on his large cock, not wanting to hurt her. It didn’t take long for him to accomplish this goal and (Y/N)’s back arched, a pornographic sound leaving her lips as she exploded.

Wrecker braced himself against the bed as the force of her orgasm forced his fingers out of her dripping pussy, her juices exploding all over the sheets and himself. Wrecker watched awe as (Y/N) squirt, her pussy opening and closing as she panted heavily. (Y/N) opened her eyes to look at Wrecker, watching at he took his fingered into his mouth and sucked them clean of her cum. (Y/N)’s eyes rolled back, her body still twitching with the feeling of her orgasm and the over stimulation.

“That was beautiful cyar’ika. Such a good girl for me,” Wrecker said, listening as (Y/N) huffed out a laugh at his words.

“Fuck,” was all she could get out as wrecker chuckled and made his way up her body. He kissed along her torso, feeling the thin layer of sweat that kissed her skin. When he reached her lips again, Wrecker captured them in a loving kiss, one too delicate for the service he had just provided her with. (Y/N) brought her hands up to Wrecker face, holding his cheeks as she deepened the kiss, tasting herself in his lips.

When they pulled away from one another, (Y/N) found nothing but love and adoration in Wrecker’s gaze, his eyes glazed over as he looked at her.

“That was something else my love. So fucking sexy,” Wrecker said making (Y/N) smile.

“I’m glad you thought so Wreck,” she said, smoothing her hand down to the top of his shirt before giving it a tug, “but I really really need you to fuck me.” She emphasizes her words with another tug to his shirts, needing to feel his skin against hers.

Wrecker couldn’t argue with her, wanting to feel her tight heat wrapped around his engorged cock. Wrecker pulled away from her completely and made quick work of stripping off his shirt, tossing it somewhere in the room as his belt and pants hit the ground next. (Y/N)’s mouth was watering at the sight of her husband, naked and dripping just for her. Wrecker was a gorgeous man, body sculpted as if he by the maker himself, his cock hanging heavy between his muscular thighs, the tip angry and red, dripping with precum.

(Y/N) groaned at the sight, taking in everything about Wrecker even if she had seen it many times before. His size always amazed her, the length and girth of his cock something that always made her pant. She sat and quickly took good of Wrecker’s large appendage, stroking it as best she could with both hands. The gentle giant groaned the sensation, his head falling back as he enjoyed the attention from his wife. Her hands were the perfect size for his cock, both hands encompassing him. (Y/N) lifted his cock to her mouth, licking a strip up the veiny side before placing a kiss to the swollen tip.

“Fuck mesh’la. Do that again,” Wrecker said, his hands making their way into (Y/N)’s hair. His wife obliged his wishes, repeating her previous ministration before taking the tip of Wrecker’s cock into her mouth fully. The he groaned at the sensation, tightening his grip on her hair but not pushing her any further. From her position, (Y/N) flickered her eyes up to look at Wrecker, watching his face contort into one of sheer bliss. She smiled around him before closing her eyes, hollowing her cheeks, and taking a deep breath before taking more of him into her mouth.

Wrecker moaned a loud uncontrolled moan, his cock twitching in (Y/N)’s mouth. It felt so good, it away felt like heaven when his wife had her warm mouth wrapped around him. One of her hands left his cock and instead, made its way to his heavy sack, his balls full and ready to combust. She held them gentle in her hands, knowing how sensitive they could be especially when love making. She could feel Wrecker’s hold on her hair tighten ever so slightly more, his breath coming out in short pants.

“Love it when you suck me off cyar’ika. Love the feelin of my dick in your mouth, feels so good,” he praised, his words going straight to (Y/N)’s cunt. She moaned around him with in turn made wrecker groan again, forcing her mouth a little further down his cock. (Y/N) choked in surprise before steeling herself and her confidence, taking as much of Wreckers as she could. It was a little easier with no gag reflex to hold her back, but Wrecker was so big it was still a struggle at times.

(Y/N) gave Wreckers sack a gentle squeeze , rolling them in the palm of her hand as she sucked her husband’s cock. She moved up and down his cock, his hands slightly guiding her movement to help her as she tightened her lips. Wreckers resolve was crumbling, his legs beginning to tremble at the tremendous feeling of his wife giving him head.

“Mmm ad’ika, such a pretty mouth on ya. So good at sucking my cock. You love it don’t you sweet girl, deepthroating my dick so far it bulges in your neck.” Wrecker’s words were filthy, emphasizing his last point by wrapping one of his hands around her neck very gently. She could feel the way his cock protruded out while deep in her throat, the realization only adding to her pleasure and his.

“Fuck Mesh’la,” Wrecker shouted, feeling himself teetering on the edge of his orgasm. But he couldn’t do it yet, not in her mouth, he needed to be inside her pussy. Wrecker held (Y/N)’s hair and pulled her off his cock, a few strings of saliva connecting them together. (Y/N) whined in protest, already missing the feeling of him inside her mouth.

“Why’d you stopppp,” she whimpered, Wreckers deep throaty chuckle making her pout. He spoke no words as he lifted her up and flipped her over, depositing her on the bed on her hands and knees. She let out a short “ahhh” of surprise, not having been fully ready for the move.

Wrecker slotted himself behind her, grinding himself against her plump round ass cheeks. He bent over (Y/N)’s body, kissing up her back to between her shoulder blades, moving his hands up and down her side. He took a second to unclasp her bra finally, tossing it aside before bringing his hands around to grab at her breasts again. (Y/N) sighed, the feeling of Wrecker’s big warm hands on her chest something she would never tire of.

“Ready for me mesh’la? Ready to take my big cock in your tight pussy,” Wrecker whispered in his wife’s ear, feeling a full body shudder run through her as she nodded.

“Please Wrecker. Please honey, fill me up. Need you inside me please,” she pleaded, wiggling her ass again his crotch. Wrecker groaned in her ear, pulling back to line himself up with her cunt. He teasingly ran his tip over her slit and down to her clit, collecting her essence to use as lube. She moaned at the feeling, falling forward and burying her face in the pillows. With this position, her ass was in the air, ready and waiting for Wrecker to take her. He got the message quickly, taking a deep breath, moving his hands to her hips and lining himself up with her.

Slowly he sunk his girthy cock into we wet waiting cavern, moaning lowly as she basically swallowed him. (Y/N) gripped the sheets of their bed, burying her face in the pillows while trying to keep from screaming at how good it felt to have Wrecker inside her.

“Fuck ad’ika, you take me so well. So stretched out around me,” Wrecker said, sinking a few more inches in before coming to a halt. (Y/N) whined again, fisting the sheets as Wrecker stilled inside of her. She turned her head to look over her shoulder, watching as Wrecker took deep labouring breaths, eyes closed.

“You okay big guy?” (Y/N)’s voice was teasing even if she was out of breath, wiggling her hips to entice her husband. Wreckers hands tighten on her hips like vice, his gaze hard but his lips pulled up in a sinful smirk. He said nothing in retaliation to (Y/N)’s words but instead, thrusted the rest of his cock into her making her scream.

“FUCKK!”

“That feel good an’edee?”

“So gooddd. Please move please please please,” (Y/N)’s words were jumbled together as Wrecker caved and gave her what she wanted, what they both wanted. He thrusted into her tight heat slowly, drawing out the sensation of her smooth walls against his veiny cock. They moaned together as Wrecker fucked into her, slowly, wantingly, hands holding her love handles and using them to his advantage.

He picked up the pace, thrusting into her wet walls faster making her jolt and groan into the sheets again. His balls slapped against he clit, the feeling eccentric and even more pleasurable than before. She couldn’t contain her sounds of pleasure as Wrecker ravaged her pussy, impaling her with his impressive length.

“Fuck Wrecker, please fill me up. Fill me with your cum. Pleaseeee,” (Y/N) pleaded, jerking her hips back to meet Wreckers thrusts. He groaned at the display, tightening his grip on her hips before speeding up his pace relentlessly. The new speed made (Y/N) scream, his cock reaching new points inside her pussy, even pushing on her cervix.

“Oh fuckkkkkk.”

“That feel good ad’ika? Does my big cock feel good inside you?”

(Y/N) could respond as Wrecker fucked the air right out of her lungs, his thrusts taking her breath away with ease. He was close and he could feel that (Y/N) was too, her cunt clenching around him and halting his thrusts momentarily. He leaned over her body dwarfing her with his size and reaching around to grab at her breast again. Using his brute strength, Wrecker lifted (Y/N)’s torso up so that her back rested against his chest. He tweaked her nipples and rolled them between his toe finger and thumb making her moan even more. He began to thrust into her at a rough and brutal pace, skin slapping against skin the only sound to be heard besides pornographic moans.

“Fuck Wrecker! Pleasepleasepleasee!” From here, he looked down to see that her belly was bulging with every thrust of his cock, the sight something that almost sent him over the edge. Wrecker leaned down ever so slightly and nipped at (Y/N)’s ear, growling into it and letting one of his hands travel down her body to where her stomach bulged with his cock.

“Gonna fill you up so much an’edee. Gonna breed this little pussy, toy want that don’t you cyar’ika.”

“YESSS! I want it so bad.”

“Gonna cum so hard inside you that it sticks. Gonna make you all round and swollen with our ad.”

“Wrecker!!” (Y/N) came with a shout of her husbands name, lower lips clenching and pussy convulsing around him. Her whole body twitched with the force of her orgasm, everything around them disappearing. Wrecker moved his other hand down to her clit, furiously rubbing the over sensitive bud to draw out her third orgasm of the night. She screamed again, legs trembling as she squirted for a second time that night, her body going rigid.

Wrecker thrusted a few more time before bending (Y/N) back over and stilling, coming with a shout of her name. He came deep inside her, his cum painting her walls and leaving nothing untouched. She could feel it in her tummy, his cum filling her up just as he promised. She was on cloud nine, so much excitement coursing through her body. Wrecker was panting above her, his dick still twitching with the simulation and the feeling of (Y/N)’s velvet walls enveloping him.

He slowly and carefully shifted their positions, laying on his side and pulling her with him to lay down. He spooned her body, keeping his softening cock inside her for as long as he could. He made good on his promise to breed her, filling her to the brim with his spend.

There were no sounds but that of their joined laboured breathing, both still coming down from ecstasy. (Y/N) lay there still as a door, limbs feeling like jello and not a thought in her head besides,

“Wow.”

“Wow indeed cyare. I don’t think I’ve ever cum that much,” Wrecker whispered, doing his best not to disrupt the blissful atmosphere they had created. (Y/N) let out a chorus of giggles, her brain foggy with pleasure.

“I feel full,” she said in a daze, her hand travelling down to join Wrecker’s on her stomach. She found that her stomach was bloated, a slight bulge present which made her gasp. She turned to look at Wrecker over her shoulder and saw that he was smirking right back at her, pleased with his work.

“I told you an’edee,” he said, nipping at her ear as he felt himself begin to harden again, “gonna breed this little pussy till it takes.”

—————

In my opinion, Wrecker is a big kinky boy who loves to fuck. And no one can change my mind!

Next story is scheduled for January 24th so keep an eye out for it! If you would like to be tagged in it, comment down below or on my ask page!

(Tags: @rinksu-no-joo @maniacalbooper @teesy738 )

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Rock The Boat 🛳️ (Toji x Black!F!Reader 18+ One Shot)

Pairing: Bartender!Toji Fushigiro x Black!Fem!Reader (Strangers to Lovers)

Synopsis: You go on a cruise vacation after your boyfriend cheats on you and meets Toji, the fine-ass bartender & divorcee. You're invited to a white party that he’s working at and while there, you find yourself flirting with him thanks to the liquid courage. After slipping him a note with room number, you wait for him that night. At first, you believe that he isn’t coming and feel rejected, but when he does, you realize that this vacation is just what you need to get over your heartbreak. 

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS DNI); Flirting; Alcohol Consumption; Dom!Toji/sub!Reader; Drunk Sex; Oral (Giving & Receiving); Spitting; Toji Drinks Patron Off Your Tits & P*ssy; Daddy Kink; Spanking; Mild Choking; Backshots On Balcony; Exhibitionism; Missionary; Doggystyle; Unprotected Sex; Raw Creampie; Aftercare; Mild Yuki x Choso

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: I’ve had this idea for a minute now & wanted to write it cuz I’m a whore for balcony sex. Also, I just started my college courses so my writing updates may slow down a bit, BUT I’ll still be writing as much as I can. -Jazz 💋💋

*********

You sit next to the lonely soul with the horrible comb-over at the pool bar, your cheek in your hand and your brain taking you to places other than here with him.

Like in the pool of appetizingly blue water with the rest of the cruisers or at the spa getting a massage and a mud mask done. 

“I just don’t think women realize how much they can hurt men by treating them like sex objects, y’know? Like, yes, I understand that men can do it too, but I believe that’s only because men are testing women! They want to weed out the real women and the quote-on-quote “whores”. I thought my ex-wife was a real woman, but…”

To anyone watching, it’d look like you’re intently listening to the man (a divorced investment banker, as he told you) discuss his extremely sexist, incel-like views and ideologies, but your eyes are about a second away from rolling out of your skull. 

Your eyes flit to where you left Yuki, your bestie and partner in crime, at the poolside only to find her flirting with the cute guy you met yesterday standing in line to get dinner at the buffet. He has a black mullet, inked muscles, and a lip piercing that no doubt is getting Yuki interested. You believe his name is Choso. 

Yuki lays back on her pool chair in her black bikini and sunglasses, flashing Choso a smile that makes him blush and sheepishly rub the back of his neck. 

You curse your friend for having such an easy time flirting with cute guys while you’re stuck sitting in the middle of this middle-aged divorcee’s tirade of ignorant thoughts that you no doubt know his people refuse to listen to, so that’s why he’s telling you about them. 

“Most women are gold diggers nowadays and only seem to focus on the outside instead of the inside,” he laments into his vodka spritzer. “That’s why I’m so glad you’re not like that. As nice-looking as you are, you’re still sitting here talking to me.” He gives you a smile that makes you feel bad because he is 100% wrong. 

Not that you’re a gold digger, but you absolutely would want to talk to someone you classify as ‘eye candy’, like Choso. Especially someone who doesn’t make you want to take a gun to your forehead. But you return the smile, forcing it as much as you can. The divorcee turns to the bar and waves his hand. “A third, please!” He calls. 

With him distracted, you take a sip of your tequila sunrise, wanting desperately to get another. You curse Yuki even more for encouraging you to flirt even though this is what a singles’ cruise is supposed to be about: flirting, romancing, and fucking people that you’ll never see again. 

Yuki had come up with the idea for you two to vacay on the water for seven days on a boat about five months ago when you were still healing from your boyfriend’s betrayal. After three years of dating and hoping to live together to begin your lives, you discovered that he had been cheating on you after a random chick contacted you over IG with photos of him asleep in her bed. 

“I don’t want to keep him,” she told you. “I just wanted you to know what was going on.” Apparently, he had met her at a club and things took off from there. Of course, he denied it until you showed him photos. Then it was the waterworks, the “I’m so sorry”s, and then empty promises of never doing it again. 

But of course, dogs will be dogs. As soon as you broke it off, you found him posted up in a strip club between two dancers’ fat asses. You blocked him with the quickness, permanently taking him out of your life, but that didn’t stop the heartbreak, the betrayal, and the lonely nights when you desperately wanted to call. 

Tired of seeing you moping around your shared apartment all gloom and doom, Yuki found the perfect solution: “Let’s go on a singles’ cruise!” She bellowed to you over coffee one morning. “It’s for seven days, we dock at Jamaica, the Dominican Republic, and St. Martin, and all that is on the boat are hot singles wanting to meet other hot singles like us!” 

You thought it was a stupid plan. You haven’t been away from home since your teens when you flew to Mexico for a family vacay. But then again, it would be nice to get out of the city and see new sights. And maybe the water and hot guys would help cure your heartbreak. So you agreed, split the payment with Yuki, packed your cutest swimsuits and sundresses, and now here you are! 

Here you are trying to think of a good way to tell this drunk divorcee that it was nice chatting with him, but you’re due for a dip in the pool curiosity of the skimpy, cut-out one-piece that Yuki made you buy for the thong and deep V-neck that makes your breasts look immaculate. 

You sip your drink for liquid courage, but you’re stopped when a deep, silky yet raspy voice comes from behind the bar: “Apologies for this, sir,” he says, “but you’ve reached your limit on your drink card. I can’t serve you anymore till you get that taken care of.” Both you and the divorcee turn to stare in shock at the bartender standing behind the tiki bar…and he’s by far the finest man you’ve ever seen. 

He’s tall, he’s buff, and he’s got eyes and a voice that would make any woman cream her panties. Standing about 6-foot something, he towers over you as you sit on your barstool. His toned body fills out his Hawaiian shirt and khakis, his thick thighs and pecs pushing up against the fabric. You see yourself running your fingers through his black hair or the scar running over the corner of his lips. Veins run up and down his arms and big, calloused hands that pass the drink card back to the divorcee who looks red in the face. 

“W-What?!” the divorcee stammers. “But that’s impossible! I specifically ordered a card for unlimited drinks!” The bartender shrugs, not looking the least bit apologetic or sympathetic. “Well, ya may not remember, but I had warned you at the casino bar to be careful orderin’ all of those drinks, especially since you only docked the boat yesterday.” 

The divorcee opens his mouth to say more and the buff bartender raises an eyebrow, waiting for a rebuttal. Instead, the divorced banker snatches his card up, downs the rest of his drink, and scurries off back to the pool. You turn to the bartender who shakes his head disappointedly. “Don’t worry ‘bout him,” he says, turning to you. “He’s just a lonely, drunk soul. All he does is bother the single girls.” 

He pauses, picking up a shaker and vigorously shaking it as he speaks. “I’m assumin’ you’re single?” He questions, obviously fishing for a conversation. You raise an eyebrow at him, wondering what he’s getting at. “I am,” you reply. “Why? You interested?” 

The bartender stifles a chuckle as he opens the shaker and pours some orange liquid into a frosted daiquiri glass. “That would be overstepping, wouldn’t it?” He rhetorically asks. “I mean, you’re a customer and this is my job. It wouldn’t be…” He pauses, passing you another tequila sunrise. “Proper.” 

He gives you a smirk, the very tiny movement making your insides flutter. He’s just too damn fine! “My treat,” he says. “No payment required.” Hesitantly, you take the new glass while he takes your old one and passes it off to get washed. ”What is this?” You chuckle. “You buyin’ me a drink?” 

“Makin’ one, actually,” he corrects you as he passes two people some club sodas. “And to make you feel better after that guy got on ya nerves.” He ticks his intensely brown eyes up to yours. “You looked like ya needed a hand.” 

You titter into your glass, already feeling the tequila taking its toll, making you talk shit. “A hand?” You parrot. “I was actually handling that, thank you very much.” 

The bartender, who you realize is still a stranger to you, laughs at this. The deep, sexy rumble of the sound makes you feel hot in your swimsuit. “Oh, yeah, ‘cause you were doing such a great job,” he sarcastically replies. “That man would’ve talked you to death.” 

You purse your lips at him, wondering if you should send the drink back or toss it in his face. “And who are you?” You sharply ask. It’s more rhetorical, but he answers anyway: “Toji Fushigiro.” He reaches one of his big hands out across the bar towards you. “Pleasure to meet you, uh…” He trails off, allowing you to fill the space with your name. You hesitantly eye his hand before tentatively reaching out to shake it. “Y/N,” you say, ignoring the zing of electricity zipping through your arm at his rough palm and firm grip. “Nice to meet you too.” 

“Mmm, I’m sure,” Toji replies and you quirk a questionable brow at him. “I make the best drinks on this boat,” he explains with a shrug as he retracts his hand. You suddenly feel cold despite the hot sun beaming down on you. “You’ll be even happier you’ve met me once you get a taste of the cocktails I can whip up.” 

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Oh, really? You talk such big game that I almost don’t believe you.” You take a sip of your drink, aware that he made it and it’s the best damn tequila sunrise you’ve ever had. It puts the one you had earlier made by another bartender to shame. 

A spark suddenly appears behind Toji’s eyes. One of…interest? Mirth? Curiosity? Whatever it is, it makes you feel exposed despite your bathing suit and cover-up. “It ain’t ‘big game’, Y/N,” he says, your name sounding like a sin coming off of his tongue. “When I talk, it ain’t shit. It’s all real and from experience.” 

You watch his hands quickly fix another drink, grabbing, whisking, mixing, etc. He is obviously a pro at this. You can’t imagine what his fingers could do to you in the darkness of a bedroom. Realizing where your thoughts are headed, you mentally kick yourself. He’s a whole stranger and you’re thinking about fucking him! 

‘Get it together,’ you think. You still haven’t even read him or his intentions yet. Though he’s undeniably hot with hands that you’d love to feel wrapped around your neck, a body you want on top of yours, and a voice that you know has delicious moans, you don’t know how you feel about sleeping with a guy you barely know. You at least want to get to know more about him.

So you play along, twirling your straw around your glass. “Oh, really?” you ask, a purr in your voice. “I’d say prove it, but you already fixed me a drink and you look kinda busy.” 

To slowly take the straw into your mouth, wrapping your plump, glossy lips around it. Toji watches, not so subtly staring dead at your mouth. His eyes tick back up to yours as if he just realized that he’s working and he smirks. “Not enough for you,” he replies. 

Before he can do absolutely anything though, his phone rings in his back pocket. He looks visibly frustrated, his brows narrowing and the corner of his mouth that is scarred twitching. “Shit,” he sighs. “Duty calls, I’m afraid.” 

You find yourself feeling disappointed that he’s leaving too. “But listen,” he continues, passing you a white card from behind the bar. You take it and read it, realizing that it’s an invitation. “I’m gonna be workin’ at an all-white party later tonight, adults only. It’ll start at 8 PM, but I suggest comin’ around 10 if you want the best drinks. That’s when my shift starts.” 

His smirk, sparked with playfulness and mischief, widens. You contemplate your decision for a bit before you give him a smile. “Alright then,” you agree. “I’ll see you then, Toji.” You take a final sip of your drink and pass it to him. As he reaches for it and grabs it, your fingers brush against each other. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but you believe you see him inhale sharply through his nostrils as if your touch has burned him. 

I’ll be lookin’ forward to it,” he murmurs. “Enjoy the drink and the pool, Y/N.” He gives you a wink before he heads off to clean your glasses, leaving you feeling lightheaded and tingly all over. 

When you meet up with Yuki by the pool, you feel like you need to take a dip to cool yourself off. She sits up in her chair, putting her sunglasses on her head. “Whatcha get?” she asks. “A number from that hot bartender, I hope.” She grins at you, signaling that she’d been watching you the whole time. 

With a secretive smile, you silently pass her the invite and her eyes go wide.m“A party invite?!” she gasps, grinning up at you. “Girl, he wants you! Now we have to go! You brought a white dress with you, right?” 

And so Yuki drags you to the nearest shop on the boat to get the perfect outfit for tonight. 

***********

As soon as you arrive at the all-white party with Yuki, you want to go back to your room and sleep almost immediately. 

Number one it’s because the music is waaay too loud. While you’re a fan of rolling your windows down and blasting your music in your car, it’s not enough to blow out your eardrums. But this music is. And number two, the pool is waaaay too crowded. There has to be about one hundred guests here tonight all dressed in their finest white outfits under the strobe lights. They surround the pool and the tiki bar where the bartenders must be working overtime. 

You look towards the bar, hoping to at least see a glimpse of Toji. Admittedly, he was the only reason you decided to buy the dress Yuki pressed you into trying on before you came down here with Yuki after filling your stomachs at supper. 

Before the party, you and Yuki attended a delicious lobster dinner and pre-gamed with cocktails before going upstairs to get dressed. She’s decked out in a flowing white dress that hugs her toned body oh-so nicely and strappy sandals, her flowing, blonde hair cascading down her back in soft curls. She looks damn good. 

You feel like you do too. Standing in the bathroom mirror in your cabin, you slid your hands down your sides in your mini white halter dress with a chiffon skater skirt that stops mid-thigh and ties around your neck in a cute bow. The V-neck leaves a silver of cleavage that eyes are drawn to (unbeknownst to you) because of the long gold chain you added to match your hoop earrings and strappy heels. 

After applying some Fenty Glossbomb to make your lips look plump and juicy, some shimmer oil to make your brown skin pop, and piling your braids into a bun at the top of your head, you felt sexy. Goddess-like. Good enough to eat. But even now, despite still looking hot, you don’t quite feel it. You can already feel yourself becoming overstimulated by the crowd and disappointed at not seeing Toji. “Well, it’s 10:02 and he’s not here,” you announce, checking your phone. 

Yuki pets your shoulder like you’re a cat, intending to comfort you. “He’s probably just late,” she assures you, looking around for someone in particular before pouting. “Choso isn’t here yet either. C’mon, let’s get a drink.” 

She drags you over to the tiki bar, scouting out two stools at the end of the bar. You anxiously tap your finger against your knee, your anxiety rising along with the sound of the music and miscellaneous conversations as people get drunker. Suddenly, the idea of meeting Toji with the intention of flirting and possibly having casual sex doesn’t feel like a good idea. 

“Yuki, I don’t know about this,” you sigh, leaning in towards her ear. “I haven’t dated or slept with anyone since the breakup.” Your friend furrows her blonde brows at you, her eyes soft. “And that’s okay!” she replies. “All it takes is a little push. Bartender, a round of tequila over here, please!” 

She waves one manicured hand at a pixie of a bartender and she nods, running to get your order. She then turns to you, cocking her head to the side. “That Toji guy looked like he’s exactly what you need, but you need to give him a try, Y/N! Besides, even if he doesn’t show, you’ve got plenty of dudes in here who will gladly spend the night with you as fine as you look!” 

She motions her hand up and down your legs; thighs; boobs; face; even your feet. “What have you got to lose?” She asks and the question stumps you. Really, nothing. You already lost your relationship. And maybe a trip filled with hot sex would be just the trick to help you out of your slump of heartbreak. 

But even so, the anxious, paranoid part of you still lingers on the ‘what ifs’. What if he isn’t interested? What if he turns out to be a creep? What if he tosses you over the balcony into the shark-infested waters? ….Okay, maybe that’s just your ID Channel obsession talking, but still! 

Even now, your lips wobble, prepared to protest against Yuki’s encouraging speech. “But—“ 

“Hey there, can I buy you two pretty ladies some drinks?” A mildly familiar, sexy, deep voice suddenly asks near your ear. You turn around, prepared to either agree, say no, or jump down the man’s throat, but your words die in your throat when you see Toji leaning against the bar behind you. 

And he looks yummier than he did earlier. He decided to wear white too—the shirt he wears is short-sleeved and halfway unbuttoned to show the sliver of his chest and a name tattoo that you can’t read on his right pec paired with khaki shorts and white Vans. The gold jewelry—a chain around his neck, a watch, and an anklet on one of his ankles—add to this deliciously masculine summertime fit. You’ve been waiting for him to arrive, but now that he’s here, all the flirty bite you had in you earlier disappears.

You let out an embarrassing croak which he humorously smiles at. His smile is a killer, all white teeth and goddamn dimples. Damn him. He knows his powers. 

“I thought you were making the drinks,” Yuki says, talking for you since you suddenly cannot. “Though we’re not complaining, shouldn’t you be behind that bar?” 

“Not till 10:30,” Toji answers with a wink. “We’re fully booked with bartenders till then, so I’ve got a little break, but I can make a few exceptions for you two.” He looks at the bar, finding the tray of tequila shots sitting there. “Or not,” he chuckles. “Looks like you girls have already started.” 

He takes a seat next to you, practically filling up the space beside you with how big he is. “Uh, this is my friend Yuki,” you say, quickly snapping back to reality. “She’s my cruise buddy.” The blonde smiles at the bartender, putting an arm around you. “And the best person in her life,” she giggles. 

Toji offers his hand across you for a handshake. “Toji. Nice to meet you.” Yuki’s phone suddenly flashes and she quickly digs into her purse for it. She smiles at the mystery message on her phone and gives you a wink. “You two go on ahead and enjoy yourselves. My guest just arrived.” Meaning Choso is here and you’ll be left alone. 

Yuki downs a tequila shot, gives you a sticky kiss on the cheek, and leans down to whisper to you. “Have fun,” she says. “Call me if you need me.” And then, before you can even stop her or beg her to stay, she is gone. 

Now you’re left alone with the hot bartender. You become acutely aware of how close he's sitting next to you, his knee almost brushing yours. He clears his throat to ebb away the awkwardness, ”So you decided to come,” he states, smiling at you. 

You turn away, staring at your nails instead. You’re afraid to look at him too much or else you’ll melt. “I said I would, didn’t I?” you reply, picking up a shot glass. “So here I am.” You take a swig and swallow it whole before sucking on a lemon to ease the strong taste and burn in your throat. 

“I’d say you look good, but that isn’t goin’ to sweeten you up, is it?” Toji asks. He says it jokingly, but you can tell he’s noticed how hostile you seem. “What, party scene ain’t your thing?” 

You turn him, expecting him to be laughing at you, but you see none of that. Now you feel like a bitch. “Ah…no, I’m just a little seasick,” you lie. “Sorry. I’m just not used to cruises.” You sound as lame as you feel. “Why’d you decide to come then?” he wonders aloud. “Other than the pool and trips.” 

You allow yourself to chuckle, liking that he’s trying to ease your nerves. So you decide to tell him. “A breakup.” You watch Toji’s face fall. “I was with someone for three years, hoping that they’d ask me to move in with them or even propose, but that didn’t happen ‘cause they cheated on me, and for the last five months, I’ve been…” 

You pause, realizing that you’ve been talking for far too long. “Shit,” you sheepishly laugh. “Why didn’t you stop me from rambling?” 

Toji reaches across you for a shot glass and you realize just how big his arm is. He could put you in a chokehold if he wanted to and you’d enjoy it. ‘Cause I thought it was cute,” he simply replies as he downs the shot in one gulp. “But seriously: your ex sounds like a fuckin’ idiot. Barely a man.” 

You crack a small smile at his attempt at comforting you. “Yeah,” you sigh. “Thanks.” 

Silence descends upon you again, but this time, it’s less awkward or tense. “You ain’t the only one with a breakup on their back,” he somberly says. “My ex-wife and I divorced two years ago, but she recently got engaged to a new man. Can’t say I didn’t face that blow.” He heaves a heavy sigh, looking down from the memory. 

“Well, what happened?” You blurt and then cover your mouth, horrified at your prying. What is wrong with you tonight? “I-I’m sorry, you don’t have to—“ 

“Money problems,” he interrupts. “Plus, we married young when we had my son and started growin’ apart. That’s the name I’ve got on my chest that you were starin’ at: my son’s name.” He peels back a bit of his shirt to show you his tattoo. “Megumi”, it reads. 

“Yes, I saw you starin’ at it earlier,” he sniggers, his eyes filled with mirth. “You’re not as discreet as you think, darlin’.” You scowl at him, happy to be Black so he doesn’t see you blushing. “You jerk,” you scoff while he cackles at your dispense. “Fine. Then what about me starin’ dead at my boobs?” 

Toji looks like a kid caught in a cookie jar now. “It’s actually the necklace I was starin’ at—“ 

“Liar!” You laugh, lightly punching him in the arm. “You sound like one of my school kids’ lyin’ to my face after I told them not to do something.” Interest appears on his face. “School kids? You’re a teacher?” 

You nod, picking up another shot. Your second one of the night. “Yep, for about five years now.” You love your teaching job and your students. It feels good to be able to be such an important figure in their little lives. 

Toji whistles to himself. “Shit, my kid would definitely pay attention in school if he had a teacher that looked like you.” You criticize yourself for folding so easily. How does this man have so much game? But then again, he was married, so you suppose he knows how to flirt. 

He reaches for another shot and holds it up. “Cheers to work, new experiences, and a summer to remember.” You smile and raise your glass as well. “Cheers,” you parrot before you both down your shots in one gulp. 

Your second shot turns into a third. Then a fourth. And soon, it becomes easier to talk to Toji and not feel so awkward. You feel loose, but not enough to come out of your clothes or fall over chairs. The liquid courage gives you just enough confidence to stop being so closed off and start talking. Really talking. You converse with Toji the whole time about everything: your job, why he decided to bartend, where you’re both from (you’re from the US while he was born in Japan), relationships, food, etc. 

You find that you love talking to Toji. It could be the tequila shots, but you find yourself hanging onto all of his answers, jokes, and little quips. You giggle at his attempts at flirting with you and you flirt back, slamming your attraction down on the bar. “Y’know, you’re a really good listener,” you drunkenly admit. “Definitely not like my ex-dick.” He laughs, sucking on a lime. “It’s the magic of a bartender,” he chuckles. “I get that a lot, but you make it easy to listen.” 

His hooded eyes stare deeply into yours, making you turn into a puddle on the bar stool. You feel absolutely delicious and untouchable being in his presence, especially under his gaze. He can’t keep his eyes off of you. However, his magic is broken when a timer on his phone goes off. 

“Well, duty calls,” he sighs, stretching his big arms over his head. “Now I can show you all my tricks.” 

You giggle as he slides off of his stool and lifts up the bar to get to his post. “You mean that big game you were talkin’ earlier?” you snigger, crossing your legs over each other as you turn to face him. “Ah-ah, sweetie,” he tuts. “I told you: it’s all real. Lemme prove it to you.” 

‘I’d let you prove anything to me,’ you think, completely and totally wet over this man. How can you not be? Every word out of his mouth sounds like an innuendo or a promise better suited for the bedroom. You try to quell your horny thoughts as you watch him lean over the bar, giving you that playful smile. “What would you like?” he asks. “A mango daiquiri? Piña colada? Pick your poison.”

You take a moment to think, tapping one nail against your chin. “Hmmm…how ‘bout a mai tai?” 

Toji’s smile falls. “Seriously?” he asks. “All the fancy drinks I’ve been namin’ and you pick a mai tai? C’mon, darlin’, give me somethin’ bettter!” 

You stick your tongue out at him. “I want what I want,” you boldly say. “Now are you gonna give it to me or do I have to find it with another bartender?” You cock your head to the side, sizing him up. Toji, on the same type of time as you, smirks and begins to whip up your order. 

You watch his big arms and skillful hands whisk; pour; grab; shake. You imagine his hands all over you, one wrapped around your neck while the other is between your thighs, his thick fingers curled in your p– 

“Somethin’ here you like, miss?” he teasingly asks, his brown eyes fixed on you. You’ve been caught. “No,” you cough, feigning embarrassment. “Just wonderin’ what the hell is takin’ so long.” A twinkle appears in Toji’s eyes, attracted to your ability to keep up with his quips, as he finally pushes the finished drink your way. 

He watches you as you take a sip. You moan softly at the taste, falling in love with it. “Mmm!” you hum. “Okay, fine, I’ll bite. This is amazing.” Toji smiles, pleased. “I’m so glad I could please you,” he responds in that silky voice. “Looks like dude over there wants to please you too.” He nods down at the bar. 

You look to where he’s looking and notice another admirer with so much hair gel that it makes his hair stick together in clumps. He gives you a smile that looks more like a grimace and raises his glass your way. “Mmmm,” you hum, but not in a seductive, pleased way. You’re disgusted. “Not your type?” Toji asks, stifling his laughter as he wipes down the bar. 

You give the stranger a small smile before turning away and sipping your drink as if he isn’t there. “Let’s just say I don’t like hair gel.” Toji suddenly stops cleaning, interested in you now. “Then what is your type?” he boldly asks. 

You. You pout pretending to think. A lady never tells her secrets this early, but there’s something about the bartender that makes you want to throw all caution to the wind. You want him to know you’re feeling him. “Well….I like men who are tall…and can make me laugh…and are good with their hands.” You trail your eyes down to his big, strong hands. He notices. 

“What about you? What’s your type of girl?” You take a sip of your drink to cool yourself down, feeling hot all over. But then Toji fixes you with a look over the bar that makes you feel like you’ve stepped foot in a boiling volcano. “The kind that like mai tais,” he answers. His phone rings then, dropping whatever was about to happen from happening. “That’s my boss. Hang on a sec.” 

When he leaves, you finally feel like you can breathe, but your pussy has had it by now. She knows what she wants and she will get it. So you quickly take two more sips of your mai tai and fish $10 out of your purse along with a pen that you use to scribble down a message on a napkin: 

Toji, I left cuz I was overstimulated from the party. I loved talking to you & would like to do more up in my cabin. If you’re interested, come to the top floor at 210. I’ll see you then. - Y/N 

You fold the $20 into the napkin and leave it under your drink before leaving. When you text Yuki that you’re heading upstairs but to stay at the party, she catches on immediately. You don’t have to tell her that Toji will possibly be upstairs with you. “Just be careful, tell me everything later, and make sure he eats pussy,” she texts you back. 

After an hour he doesn’t show up. After two, he still doesn’t show up. When three hours go by, you’ve finished your glass of wine and have dozed off on the couch. When you wake up alone in your cabin with no Toji, you feel disappointment and embarrassment flare inside of you. You feel stupid. 

While it occurs to you that you never specifically asked him when his shift ends tonight, the party is over! It said it ended at midnight on the invitation. Plus, if you had asked when he’d be done with work, you would’ve exposed yourself for wanting to spend the night with him. You were supposed to be a creature of mystery AND seduction. 

But…maybe you should’ve just told him. Maybe you should’ve been real about your intentions from the start like Yuki encouraged you to be. You think about your lovely best friend leaving the party with Choso on her arm and going up to his room. The thought makes you sick. 

You thought for sure that you’d be in the same boat as her tonight, but you were sadly mistaken. Now here you are, sitting alone in your pretty sundress, slightly sober from the nap and not wanting to be. Viciously swiping away a lone tear that drips down your cheek, you pour yourself another glass of wine. What you need right now is a hot bubble bath. 

But as you walk towards the bathroom with every intention of drawing yourself a relaxing bath, stripping off your stupid dress, sipping your wine, and washing away tonight, you hear a sudden loud knock on the door. 

You startle, nearly dropping your wine goblet. You stare at the door, perplexed and scared. Yuki has her own key, so she won’t be knocking. So who in the hell is knocking on your door at this time of night? “Yes?” You call, your voice stern despite the wobble in it. “Y/N?” Toji’s deep voice drifts through the door. “It’s Toji. It’s late, I know, but I got your note and—“ 

You’re walking across the room and flinging the door open before he can finish. There he is standing before you. This isn’t a drunken hallucination or a mirage. He is right here at your door, still as sexy as the moment you saw him at the party tonight. He leans against the doorframe, looking like a big, hulking Adonis. 

“Sorry,” you breathlessly say. “I couldn’t really hear you.” “Can I come in?” he asks, his dark eyes hopeful. You nod and step aside for him to enter the empty cabin. ”Sorry for the mess.” 

“S’cool,” he chuckles. “I was sayin’ I got your note, but I got held up at the party. I was put on cleanin’ duty, but after that, I shot out of there as fast as I could.” He turns to you now and takes your smaller hands in his bigger ones, gently stroking your knuckles with his thumbs. His touch sends electricity shooting throughout your body. 

“I’m sorry to ask,” he says, his voice soft, “but is your offer still on the table?” His gaze is not intense but it is hot. It tells you that he still wants whatever you want to happen to happen. You now know he feels the same attraction to you that you do to him. 

Throwing all caution, insecurities, and doubt to the wind, you take your hands out of his, place them on his broad shoulders, and stand on your toes to press a hot, open-mouthed kiss to his lips. Toji moans into the kiss, his lips moving in tandem with yours. He tastes of mint gum and the tequila you consumed before, his tongue slowly chasing yours. 

When you pull away, there is a string of spit that attaches itself to your bottom lip. Toji’s gaze is dark and heated, burning you on the spot. “Don’t apologize,” you murmur against his lips. “Just fuck me. Please.” 

Toji grins down at you and instantly grabs your ass over your dress. “That’s all I needed to hear, baby,” he exhales before swooping in to take you into another sloppy, open-mouthed kiss that results in a make-out session. His pillowy-soft lips and stubble rubbing against your chin instantly make you wet. You can’t remember the last time a man’s kiss made you feel so aroused. 

His hands and body too. As his fingers and big palms glide up and down your thighs and ass beneath your dress, your hands indulge in his lusciously hard muscles. His biceps, pectorals, and abs all seduce you, making your inner thighs clench together in excitement. You can’t help but moan and whimper into his mouth, your bodies pressed against each other, hands all over each other’s bodies.

Finally fed up, Toji tears himself away from you, panting heavily. “Turn around and let me take this off of you,” he demands, his hands gliding down your sides. “As good as you look in this dress, I need to see it on the floor.” 

You do as he says and shiver as his fingers brush your skin while he toys with the bow holding your dress up. He only has to pull on one of the ties to make it slide off your body, exposing your brown skin, naked breasts, and thong to him. He runs a hand down his face as he gapes at you. “Shit,” he hisses. “Now why the fuck would anyone cheat on you? Your ex is officially a dickhead.” 

He moves towards you and swoops you up in his arms, wrapping them around your front. You bite your lip, instantly falling back into him. “You’re fuckin’ perfect,” he whispers, his teeth nibbling at your ear. “Lemme show you how much. Just tell me what you like.” 

As he kisses up and down your neck, gently sucks and nibbles on your hard nipples, and massages your ass with those big hands, you tell him every naughty, nasty thing you love. You tell him your kinks. Your fantasies. How you want to be touched and used. Toji’s smile grows wider and his cock grows harder with every secret that you tell him. 

Somehow, that all results in you getting spread eagle on your twin-sized bed while Toji is between your thighs, slurping at your pussy and fingerfucking you. You gasp and writhe on the mattress, one hand gripping the comforter while the other is laced in Toji’s black locks. “God, Toji, yes!” You whine, your voice bouncing off of the room’s walls. 

You don’t care if your neighbors hear you. Anyone would be as loud as you if they could feel Toji’s tongue swirling against your clit and his long, skilled fingers curling up inside of you. The wet squelching of his digits fucking your cunt make you even wetter much to his enjoyment. He eagerly slurps and licks up all that you give him, his tongue sliding down to your asscrack and then up again to your slit. 

“You taste so fuckin’ good, mama,” he moans, pressing a kiss to your quivering inner thighs. “But I know what’ll make ya taste even better.” He gives you a mischievous rin that both excites and scares you. He slowly slides his fingers out of you and sucks on them, looking you in your eyes as he does.

“Stay here,” he orders even though you’re not going anywhere. You watch him walk over to the mini fridge in your cabin and retrieve the complimentary mini bottle of Patron that was given to you and Yuki yesterday as a welcome gift. You got that along with the bottle of wine you just consumed, a fruit plate, and a bag of chocolates that you both shared while sitting on the balcony last night. 

Though Toji is only gone for two minutes, it’s enough to make your throbbing, aching pussy feel desperate and impatient. When he returns, you whimper, sliding your hand down to play with yourself. “Toji, please,” you whisper, gasping when he smacks your hand away. “Uh-uh,” he sternly says. “That’s my pussy tonight. No touchin’ what’s mine.” 

The idea of that turns you on more than you can express. You helplessly watch as he pops open the Patron and takes a swig before pouring a few droplets onto your hard, brown nipples. He swoops down and sucks on both, causing shocks of pleasure to soar through you. “Mmm,” you hum, eyes rolling back at the pleasure. 

Toji pulls away, his eyes intense. “Open your mouth,” he demands and you do. He takes a swig of the tequila before he leans in and presses his mouth to yours, spitting the Patron in it. You have no choice but to swallow it, your cunt throbbing from the act. 

“Like that, baby?” He asks, smirking down at you. Chuckling when you nod, he hovers over you and pours some Patron on your pussy lips. You gasp as the cool liquid hits your sensitive, heated skin, but the chill doesn’t last for long when Toji swoops in to engulf your cunt in his mouth and tongue. 

“Oh, Toji!” You gasp, your back arching off the bed. His fingers slip inside of you again as he hungrily laps at your pussy, slurping up your juices and the tequila. “Shit,” you hiss. “Right there! Oooh, yes, right there!” 

The bartender chuckles against your clit, keeping the same tempo and pressure as he fingers you, causing more juices to slip down your asscrack and onto the bed. It doesn’t take long for that knot in your core to tighten, threatening to snap the more Toji plays with your clit and your pussy. You grip his hair and shoulder for dear life, digging your nails into his skin and scalp. 

“T-Toji,” you stammer. “I-I’m close! You’re gonna…gonna make me cum.” The sexy man between your thighs mumbles in agreement against your cunt, demanding your orgasm with his fingers and tongue. “Cum for me, you little slut,” he growls. “Do it. Give it to me, baby.” 

You don’t even have a chance to warn him before your orgasm rolls out of you and hits you like a tidal wave that rocks you to your core. A loud scream-like moan escapes you as you gush all over Toji’s face, coating his chin and mouth in your cum along with his fingers. They become sticky with you and he loves every second of it. He continues to do this even as your body squirms beneath him and you try to push him away. 

“T-Toji,” you whimper. “W-Wait, oh, fuck, wait, i-it’s too much!” You’ve become overstimulated, your clit throbbing in protest to his tongue bath. Finally, he pulls away and hovers over you, his fingers and mouth coated in your cum. He then puts his fingers above your mouth. “Taste yourself,” he orders. 

Like a puppet pulled on strings, you sit up and suck your cum off of his fingers, staring deep into his eyes as you do. He then tears his digits out of your mouth like you just bit him and jumps up to strip. You watch with eager eyes as he takes off his shirt, pants, and then finally his briefs. Your eyes roam down his big, squeezable pecs, his washboard abs where a delicious happy trail lies, right down to his long, thick third arm swinging between his thick thighs and dripping in precum. 

“You’re perfect,” you whisper before you can stop yourself. Toji chuckles, pleased with your reaction to his physique. “Glad you like what you see, mama,” he says, giving his cock a little sway that has you hypnotized. “I do too.” He comes over to the edge of the bed and gets on top of you, straddling your chest. 

Your eyes widen at the cock in your face gently probing your chin. “Open your mouth, baby,” he coaxes. “Don’t I deserve some fun too?” He pushes his hips forward, gently prying your lips apart. You allow him to slide into your mouth and stretch your jaw to accommodate his girth. He is all length and thickness, stretching out your cheeks and immediately causing spit to gather in your mouth which makes it easier for him to fuck it. 

“Shit, baby,” he groans, watching you take his cock deeper. “You must’ve needed this too.” Through his hooded gaze, he is enchanted by the way you gag and slobber on his cock…with no hands. You bob your head up and down, your moans causing vibrations along his shaft that travel all the way to his balls. 

His hand grabs the back of your head as he begins to roll his hips against your mouth, making you take more and more of him down your throat. You begin to gag as he hits the back of your throat, but you don’t pull away. He chuckles, caressing your scalp. “I like that noise,” he hums. “Keep gaggin’ on that shit for me.” 

Like a good girl, you do, breathing through your nostrils as you do. You look up into his eyes, spit copious amounts of saliva onto his dick, and suck that shit like it’s your profession. His moans and swears egg you on, making your pussy throb and gush excitedly at the sexy sounds escaping his mouth. Even with the spit dripping down your mouth and your mascara ruined, you’ve never felt sexier being used like a toy for Toji’s pleasure. 

Having had enough, Toji finally slides out of your mouth with a moan and quickly jumps off of you. He stands at the end of the bed between your thighs and slides his dick once, twice, thrice against your slit before finally sliding home inside of the wet depths of your pussy. You both gasp in unison at the contact, the bliss hitting you both instantly. 

He yanks on your ankles, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed, and begins slowly rocking his hips into you. The act causes your clit to glide against his pelvis and more wetness to gather in your pussy that gushes around him. It makes it much easier for Toji to fuck you, so he places his hands on either side of your head and deepens his strokes. Your mouth falls agape, the stretching sensation and pleasure you feel otherworldly. “Ah!” you gasp, grabbing his shoulders. 

Toji is feeling the same, unable to stop his hips from moving and moans from escaping his lips. “God, you’re so fuckin’ tight,” he grunts. “You feel so good, darlin’.” He pants and groans in your ear, making your pussy throb excitedly at the sounds. The pleasure is so immense that you can feel tears gently pushing past your eyes. You can’t remember the last time you felt this good. You can’t get enough of him. You need all of him. 

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. When he leans up to look down at you, you hold his gaze with yours. “Fuck me, Toji,” you beg through teary eyes. “Just take what you need.” 

Toji takes your wrists in his hands and pins them above your head, causing your heart to leap. “No…I’m gonna give you what you need,” he softly growls and captures your mouth in a sloppy kiss. And then he proceeds to grab your hips and piston into you until you see stars. You can’t stop the moans and gasps that escape you as his cock strokes your insides, causing lewd squelches and bouncing bedsprings to create a symphony of sex in the cabin. 

To anyone walking by your room, they’d absolutely know what’s up. You’re so loud that, of course, they’d hear your incoherent words mushed together from the pleasure and deep dick you’re being given. “Fuck, Toji, yes!” you babble. “Fuck me just like that! Just. Like. That!” 

Toji grins above you, proud of the way you’re submitting to him with every roll of his hips. Your body looks so good beneath him, pinned down to the bed with no way to go. You have no choice but to take all the dick he’s giving you. He loves the way your tits jiggle with every thrust of his hips, giving him something to watch other than your pretty face. 

He wonders what else he can make jiggle. Suddenly getting an idea, he pauses in his fucking and places his hands under your ass. Without pulling out, he picks you up and begins walking with you away from the bed. “W-Where are we going?” you softly ask, tightening your limbs around him. Toji just smirks at you as he uses one hand to unlock the balcony. “To get some air.” 

When you suddenly feel the cool air tinged with the smell of sea salt on your skin, you feel your heart leap and your stomach flip. What is he planning? With a soft moan, Toji pulls out of you and places you onto your feet. His eyes, filled with lust, are illuminated by the big, silver moon that hangs above the dark sea below. 

“Bend over,” he demands. Your eyes widen at him. “W-What?” you squeak. “But someone could see us!” There are plenty of people down below and on either side of you in their own cabins. Anyone could look up or over at you getting slutted out on the balcony. 

Toji firmly grasps your chin and squeezes your cheeks together, his expression almost feral. “I don’t give a fuck,” he growls. “They can look all the way. Regardless, I’m makin’ you cum and then fillin’ you up. Now bend the fuck over.” With his other hand, he gives your ass a smack. “Don’t make me ask you again.”

With your ass stinging and your pussy weeping, how can you deny him? You turn around and slowly bend over the balcony, grasping the bar as you do. You moan as he slides his cock up against your slit, nudging your clit, before sliding in again. Your moans grow embarrassingly louder as he begins to fuck you, his cock sinking deeper inside of you at this angle. “Fuuuck, you got wetter, mama,” he cackles, gripping your hips. “What, does my little slut like gettin’ backshots in public?” 

Slowly, he lifts up one of your legs, not enough to hurt you but enough to make you feel even more of him. His heavy balls slap against your clit as he thrusts a little faster than before, paying close attention to how you respond. T-Toji, no!” you whine. “Someone’s gonna see!” 

You can see people walking about on the lower deck, unaware of the woman getting backshots above them, Smack! He gives your asscheek another harsh smack that echoes across the water. “Didn’t I tell you I don’t give a fuck?” he grunts. “Let ‘em see this pussy gettin’ filled up. I’m givin’ you more pleasure than they’ll ever have in their lives, baby.” 

He grabs one of your tits with one hand, massaging it while he presses his face into your hair. You can feel him everywhere. Your senses are filled with nothing but him. Getting fucked by him in the summer breeze and moonlight is the most erotic thing that has ever happened to you. You can feel your pussy tightening around him, your peak nearing. 

As if sensing it, Toji turns your face to meet his as he continues to piston his cock into you, though he slows his pace in favor of agonizingly slow strokes. “Look at me, you little slut,” he demands. “Watch me fuck you.” His handsome face is flushed, sweat sticking to his forehead. “Tell me it feels good. Tell me you love this fuckin’ cock.” 

You feel delirious from the pleasure, like another woman who lives off of getting fucked and slutted out for the rest of her days has crawled into your body. “I love it!” you whine. “I fucking love it the way you fuck me, Daddy!” That’s the magic word for Toji. 

He grips you to him and proceeds to fuck you faster, harder, giving you exactly East you need. You wrap your arm around his head to bring him closer, sharing a sloppy kiss as his thrusts quickly bring you over the edge. You don’t care if people see you. You don’t care if they hear you. All that matters is right now. All that matters is that you cum. “God, Toji!” you shout, your voice carried among the waves. “You’re gonna make me cum!” 

Toji loops a hand around your neck and squeezes, making you gasp at the pressure. “Try again, mama.” 

Realizing your mistake, you quickly correct yourself, needing to cum. “Daddy, please,” you sob. “Please keep going! I need you to make me cum!” Toji smiles against your cheek, supremely satisfied with your compliance. “Good girl,” he grunts. “M’close too. Want you to cum on this dick while I fill you up.” 

There is no more talking. Only desperate moans, grunts, and gasps as he takes you to the land of bliss with his cock. You get yourself there quicker by rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts and finally, that knot inside of your core snaps. “I’m cumming, I’m cumming!” you babble. 

Toji doesn’t need to warn you. His desperate, sloppy thrusts tell you that he’s close and when he grips you tighter than a vice, your body flush against his, you know that he’s cumming you. As your pussy gushes around him, his cock explodes and floods you with his cum. You both moan in unison as your orgasms take you through the stars and above, beyond the sea and beyond that. It’s blissful. It’s a high you’ve never experienced before. 

When it fades, Toji pulls his cock, wet with your cum, out of you and wraps his hand around it, pumping it as he gives you a heated look. “On your knees. I’m not done with you yet.” On wobbly legs, you kneel down in front of him, watching him lazily stroke his cock in front of you. “Clean yourself off of me,” he demands. “You made the mess, so you need to clean it up.” 

You open your mouth and lazily lick his cock, cleaning yourself off of him. He softly moans as you do, caressing your hair. “Good girl,” he sighs. “Now did I make it up to you or what?”

You lean your head against his thigh, too exhausted to reply. “Aw, poor thing got fucked too good,” he chuckles. “C’mon, let’s get you inside. 

Suddenly, you’re lifted off of the floor and carried into the cabin. You feel the cool comforter underneath you as Toji lays you down on the bed and then his warm, hard body curls next to yours. You lean your head on his chest as he tests his hand on your ass, comfortable and content.

“So I’m guessin’ they’ll be a next time for this while you’re on your trip?” he asks. 

You can only nod in response as sleep comes like a wave and sweeps you out to sea with him. 

THE END.

[333creolelady]

Lady Of The Blue Bakunawa Ch.9 (Finale)

Afab! Black OC x Roman Reigns (Pirate Au)

Warnings: SEX, Fem rec oral, Male rec oral, P in V penetration, Cursing, Discussions about Racism/ Systematic oppression, very light angst (with heavy fluff omg)

Word Count: A Whopping 34k. I am so sorry.

Official playlist link

Alternative playlist link

Official songs for this chapter: The whole world, Le style du Barry, Le lever du, Concerto G, Sonatas, The zong, Lord Mansfield, First impressions, The living sculptures, Darcy’s letter, Jeanne Versailles, spring 1, Malena Titoli di coda, To the ball, Academy, Laverton, Merry, Misirlou, Danube, The pink room, You would be my wife, You already, Nobody gets me (classical).

Alternative songs for this chapter: The gentle rain, Flick, From scratch, Guitar song, 26, The only exception, We’ll never have sex, Futile devices, Love Story, Hide, Breathe, Possibly Maybe, Lover you should have come over, Feel like home.

Cover by @joannasteez

<-Chapter 8

<- Back to Masterlist

Jane Pov

There were many inexplicable occurrences that happened as a result of the island. For one, the seasons had changed. They were spat out somewhere between Totoguam and a British occupied port. This was a relief, as it would take them a very long time to get back to Europe from where they came. It took 6 weeks flat to reach the Port of Tillbury.

Jane agreed to accompany Roman to meet an old friend in Paris and take a breather after such a vigorous quest. A quarter of the pirates parted ways with the group to pay off debts, return to family, visit family, or simply retire. William was included in that group of people. Understandably so, he needed to make things right with his wife. Doctor Earl decided to stay a bit longer, simply stating that his work was not done yet. Caden would be accompanying Jane and Roman on their trip.

Before any real break could happen, business had to be dealt with. Roman left early in the morning to travel to London to clear warrants. Jane spent the day preparing for their trip. She started packing the new sets of clothes that Roman had picked out for her. Shoes, dresses, shifts, stockings, garters, stays, modesty slips, caps and fichus, paniers, petticoats, and engageantes. Roman had gone on a bit of an impulsive spending spree as he was terribly sorry about the destruction of the last ship and all their personal belongings. After packing her items she moved onto his. She prepared her hair in small twists, hoping to not be bothered with it for a week or two. The slip of her hair pomade in her hand made her grateful to be back in the general population.

With a smaller group of pirates, dinner took half the time to cook. Tilbury wasn’t particularly known for its fresh produce or quality cuts of meat. The boat had better food. Beef and potatoes were a favorite and it was a favorite this night just as any other night. Roman came back with a tired but satisfied look on his face. She could tell by his smile that the day had gone well. Before she can utter a word, his mouth is on hers, giving her a generous and suggestive greeting after so many hours apart.

“ Dinner is ready. Caden helped”, She pulled away from the kiss with a chuckle, slapping her hand across his chest.

A goofy grin spreads across his face “ Great. Let us enjoy our meal in the bedroom”, he suggests lowly. She looks around at all the men sitting in the dining hall. They were far too busy stuffing their faces. Roman motions for the door with his eyes, trying his best to convince her. “come on”, he whispered to her. He’s already holding his plate and hers. She pulls off her apron and sets it on the seat. One of the lower ranking pirates hoots suggestively as the two disappear behind the door. Roman doesn’t even bother his typical threats from his cheery mood.

The two reach the bedroom and she sets the plates on the table, pouring a glass of water for the both of them from the picher that sat near the window sill. Roman strips himself off his coat, waistcoat, and shirt. He pulls off his tricorn hat and takes down his hair from his respectful ponytail.

“ You’re in a good mood”, Jane laughs.

“ I am. I have great news. I was able to clear up some warrants for myself and the crew. You don’t even have a warrant anymore.” Jane perks up at those words.

“ Indeed, you are declared missing in the country of England. This is because they found no remains. This means that all your debts and warrants have been cleared. You are free”, Roman quips.

“ Free…”, the word bounces off her tongue in a peculiar way. She supposed that life in London was no freedom after all. If one could even call what she had before a life.

Roman sat next to her, throwing his arm around her shoulder and pulling her temple to his mouth for a peck.

“ A fresh start. You can even choose a new name if you like not that it will matter. I don’t have much business to do with London at this point. You won’t have to go back here if you do not wish to”, he assured her.

“ Processing the paperwork will taking some time. We will head to Paris by carriage the day after tomorrow. Caden will escort you to the shops tomorrow to get anything you need for our stay which will be three weeks long.”

Jane brows raise in surprise “ Three weeks?..What on earth will we be doing for three whole weeks?”

Roman playfully rolls his eyes, “ Can a man not surprise and plan things for the woman he loves? If you were supposed to know I would have told you by now ”, he chuckles.

“ Not even a hint….you’ll spare me ?”, Jane scoffs.

“ It’s a vacation”, Roman muttered, scraping the last bit of potatoes off his plate. Jane was so excited she couldn’t even finish her meal and instead pushed her plate towards his.

“I suppose that will be enough. I’ll try to get more out of you later… I have my ways,” she teased. A rumble in his chest tickled her ears as she stifled a laugh and he pulled her into his lap.

Roman leaned into the crook of her neck. “Spoiled rotten… never let me have the last word, can you?” He quickly caught her off guard with a smack to her bum. She squealed, jumping up and diving for the bed.

As promised, the day after the next, two carriages awaited them at the end of the dock, drawn by four large white horses. The carriages were brown with gold embroidery—no doubt they were expensive. The coachmen placed Jane’s and Roman’s luggage on top of the carriage. Roman helped her step inside while the coachmen held the door open for her. Inside the small cushioned box were three medium-sized windows with retractable blinds. There were two cushioned benches adorned with beautiful swirly embroidery around the perimeter of the carriage. The ceiling was dark red with gold designs dancing across it. Jane sat down, and Roman sat across from her. The coachmen closed the door and opened the two additional windows to let in the light.

“The quality of this carriage… it’s so rich. It almost looks like a royal carriage,” Jane said, looking around in awe. It even smelled nice. A beat of silence passes. “Is this a royal carriage?” Jane frowned in confusion. Roman chuckled knowingly.

“I take it you haven’t traveled in very good carriages before?” he deflected. Jane rolled her eyes, aware of his angle but deciding to drop it.

“I wouldn’t call a wooden bench staring at the back of a horse’s arse particularly ‘good,’ so I’m easily impressed so far,” she snorted.

He chortled. “Well, if it’s that easy to impress you, prepare to be astonished once more… very soon.”

“How long before we get to Paris?”

“All of today. We won’t reach Paris until nightfall.” Roman removed his jacket and rolled it behind him into a pillow.

A day was nothing. The two of them lost track of time in conversation—a common occurrence when they were together. Roman told old pirate stories, and Jane listened intently. The bottle of ale certainly helped keep the topics interesting. Eventually, around midnight, Jane could wait for Paris a second longer. After a long rant about a specific color of dress she could never seem to find, she slumped against his chest. Sleep claimed her, and Roman, a bit of a night owl, decided to join her in slumber. He didn’t want to miss her reaction.

Jane's body sensed the carriage stop, stirring her awake, which in turn woke Roman. He looped an arm around her waist and pulled her upright before opening a blind. Jane gasped as she looked out the window.

A palace? Why would she be at a palace of all places? Why would Roman take her to a palace when he practically hated nobility? None of it made sense. She glanced between his eyes and the massive property just feet away.

A little knock on the door startled her, as she couldn’t see anyone standing there. Reluctantly, she opened the door. A small voice cleared its throat, and her eyes shot down to a sandy-brown-haired girl with large, poofy ringlets split into two ponytails on either side of her head. She wore a child’s nightdress with a robe and matching pink slippers. Her large eyes, tiny bulbous nose, and round pink lips made her look like a little cherub. More surprisingly, she was incredibly tiny, appearing to be around four to six years old. Maybe it was because Jane hadn’t been around many children; most of the earls and ladies she had worked for were older with grown children. The little girl smiled at her. “Bonjour! Parles-tu français?” she asked.

“Uh… no,” Jane replied awkwardly, a small chuckle rising from her chest as the little girl eyed her curiously.

“Hello, my name is Eloise!” the little girl said, sticking her tiny hand out to Jane. Her accent was distinctly French, and her voice was sweet yet clear, as if she had spoken two languages her entire life.

Jane, bewildered but charmed, took the child’s hand in her own and introduced herself. “Jane,” she smiled.

The child turned to Roman. “And you must be Papa’s friend. He said you were coming. He’s not back yet from his hunting trip with Mama, but don’t worry. I can give you a tour since he’s not here. I know all the rooms of the palace and the—”

“Eloise! What did I say?! You are to be in bed! Une dame ne salue pas ses invités dans ses vêtements de nuit. A lady must be presentable!” a woman called from the top of the steps leading to the entrance of the palace.

The little girl took off running into the palace, a guard jogging behind her, shadowing her every move. Jane and Roman stepped out of the carriage as she disappeared around a dimly lit corner. A woman in her fifties with deep brown hair, green cat-like eyes, a long defined nose, and cherry-red lips approached the couple. She wore a long deep green gown, and her hair was styled in a puffy updo. Jane glanced back to see Caden still in his carriage parked a few inches away, greeted by a different courtier.

“Monsieur Roman, Mademoiselle Ramlal—welcome. My name is Beatrice. I split my time between being a governess to Lady Eloise and a courtier for the Duchess of Orleans. The Duke will be so pleased to have you both here,” she said, respectfully curtsying and smiling at them.

“Hi… Is this… Versailles?” Jane asked, looking around curiously at the architecture.

The woman covered her mouth to suppress a chuckle. “No, ma’am. This is Palais Royal—home to the Duke and the Duchess. However, Versailles is just up the road, an hour away by carriage. You will experience the wonders of the King’s home soon enough. Not to worry.”

“Thank you, Beatrice. This is Jane’s first time in Paris, so she’ll need some time to adjust”, says Roman.

“Of course! Let me show you to your room, and we can do a tour of the property after the Duke and Duchess return. Let us take the short way, as I know you two must be very tired. Right this way,” Beatrice smiled kindly, signaling to the officers to unload the luggage, which was then picked up by four servants who appeared quietly in the background.

On the short walk to their quarters, Jane took it all in—what she could see, at least. Before her stood an architectural giant, its grandeur dwarfing the buildings in England. It worried her slightly that Versailles would be even bigger than this. The palace, with its striking classical façade, was an intricate tapestry of columns and arches. Tall Corinthian pillars, fluted and carefully proportioned, rose imposingly toward the sky, framing the grand entrance like sentinels of history. The creamy stone glowed warmly against the light, each detail sharp and vivid against the Parisian night sky.

Jane’s gaze swept over the expansive courtyard, where the geometric design of the paving stones seemed to lead her deeper into the heart of the palace. To her left, the vast gardens unfurled, their manicured hedges and vibrant flowerbeds a riot of color, contrasting beautifully with the pale stone of the building.

The sheer scale of the Palais Royal filled her with awe; it seemed to stretch endlessly, a labyrinth of wealth and privilege. How did people live like this? The intricate ironwork of the balconies twinkled in the moonlight, and the ornate sculptures perched atop the façade looked down like ancient figures, frozen in time. Every detail—the delicate carvings, the imposing gates, the shimmering windows—left her wide-eyed. This was not just a palace; it was a gateway to a life that was completely alien to her old one. And she thought the Earl she worked for was rich?

“Roman, we are criminals. We cannot be here,” she whispered quietly to him as they walked behind the governess. They were in the foyer, heading up a marble staircase so clean she felt she could eat off it.

He looked down at her, noticing her nervous glances over her shoulder as if there was a guard about to handcuff her. “Do you really think I’d take you somewhere where they would arrest you? It’s taken care of, remember? Besides, the Duke and I are childhood friends. He would sooner hide us than give us up to the law—a law we are no longer in trouble with. Relax. It’s what you’re supposed to do on vacation.” He looked down at her again as she continued to glance around suspiciously. Jane could send him into hysterics when she wanted to. This was one of those moments. She grabbed his large hand tightly, and he squeezed her small fist reassuringly.

“Okay. Here are your quarters. The Duke has informed us that you would like to share a room,” Beatrice led them down a winding, tall, echoey hallway that Jane nearly slipped on. She wasn’t used to walking on stone yet. They arrived at the room, and Beatrice opened the door. Jane held back a gasp.

The bedroom was lavish and opulent. The room featured grand, ornate furnishings with rich fabrics and intricate detailing. The walls were adorned with delicate wallpaper in a soft goldish-brown color with floral patterns. A large, canopied bed served as the centerpiece, draped in expensive linens and surrounded by tapestries.

Gilded accents and antique mirrors with elegant chandeliers illuminate the room with a warm, soft glow. Decorative vases and fresh flowers bring life and color to the space. Cushioned gold chairs and mahogany tables line either side of the room. A small table and two chairs sit near the large window with a balcony. The rug is spotless; not even a speck of dust or dirt can be seen on it, despite its cream and gold colors. The fireplace is large, with fresh wood sitting inside it. The room is adorned with ancestral paintings and murals. The marble floor features intricate designs. The ceiling is gold-trimmed.

“Your things will be here shortly. Ms. Ramlal, your measurements will need to be taken.”

“Oh—I brought my own dresses, no worries,” said Jane.

“This will be for your Versailles trip. Here, the court is a little more relaxed. However, Versailles is more traditional. The King doesn’t particularly like British fashion, so you’ll have to respect the rules of his court. Otherwise, you may insult him. His Highness is a little more… particular, ” Beatrice explained gently.

Jane blinked with surprise. “Oh—I was not aware. Thank you for letting me know.”

“My pleasure. Oh look, your bags have arrived,” Beatrice said, stepping aside to allow the male servants to place the luggage trunks next to the room dividers at the far end of the room. Two more servants, this time female, entered the room. They greeted her quietly, and she returned the favor. Roman was sitting in a chair, going through a small bookshelf that sat on the opposite side of the room. Jane walked to the full-length mirror next to the suitcases and allowed the ladies to take her measurements. The process took all of two minutes before they left with a swift curtsy.

“You two enjoy the rest of your evening. There will be a Butler named Joffrey stationed outside your door. If there is anything you need, report to him, and he will have it done. Is there anything else I can assist you two with?”

Roman stood from his sitting position. “No, that will be all, Beatrice. We truly appreciate your hospitality. I wish you a good night.”

“And you as well. See you both in the morning, Monsieur..Mademoiselle,” Beatrice curtsied and left.

Jane let out a long sigh, relaxing her shoulders. “Goodness. I felt like I was in a play.”

Roman chuckled knowingly. “The people of the court are almost as intense as the royalty. Every nicety must be observed. Every interaction is uptight. But trust me, the Duke and the Duchess are not like that.”

Jane looked around the room, turning her body to take in each part of it. At the end of the room sat assorted berries, chocolate, chocolate-covered berries, scones, soups, cheeses, breads, and wines. Jane rushed over to pick a berry from the tray.

“Mmm…” she said, picking another and putting it in her mouth. Utensils lined the tables. She picked one up, only to realize it was pure gold. The thought tickled her. Wouldn’t silver be just fine?

Chocolate was a rare delicacy. She’d tasted it maybe twice in her life and then never again.

“Fan of chocolate?” Roman smiled, watching her pick over the food table.

“Fan of anything sweet, if you couldn’t tell,” she chuckled.

Roman stood, his knees groaning from sitting all day. He pulled off his dress coat and placed it on the side of the chair. “The Persians love their sweets, so you won’t leave this place unsatisfied. Come, let me loosen your corset.”

Jane washed down her berries with a splash of wine before she shuffled over to Roman, kicking off her heels and letting her toes sink into the carpet. Roman stood behind her with his tall stature, pulling down the straps of her corset and loosening the ribbons that wound up her back. The final tug at the bottom of the corset popped the cage loose, allowing the fabric to fall down to her hips. She could feel her breasts spill out, but she made no move to hold them. She carefully pulled it off, revealing a thin, sheer undergarment slip she wore underneath. She lifted the garment over her shoulders and tossed it on the floor, leaving herself in bloomers and nothing else. She felt a calloused finger trail along her back and up her right shoulder. There it was again, that tension that had been brewing for weeks. She peeked over her shoulder, and his eyes were focused on her skin, painting small circles and patterns against her back and shoulder. His pupils, darker than usual, met her own, and she nearly flinched from the heat of them. They stayed there for a minute while a silent conversation was held.

Any day now, it would happen. His lust was so incontestable, so palpable, she could reach out and touch it. He took a step back and surrendered to their circumstances. No, not yet. Close, but not quite yet. It had been a long day, and his eyes lowered to her dress on the floor. He picked it up and set it alongside her luggage.

When she entered the elaborate bathroom, she noticed a large, spacious marble bathtub sitting by the window. She requested a bath, and Roman took his shortly after hers. The exhaustion set in fast as the two barely uttered goodnight before reaching deep sleep.

The morning sun illuminated every corner of the gold-speckled room, creating a shiny and soft haze over her eyes. To wake up glowing was strange after living inside a wooden ship for the better part of a year. Jane sat up to find that Roman was gone, which made her a bit nervous. A small note sat on her pillow, and she opened it.

“Gone to have a smoke with Arnaud. Pull the rope, and your chambermaids will come and get you ready for breakfast. I’ll see you soon.”

Arnaud? That must be the Duke. She pulled on her bathrobe and walked to the golden rope hanging by the door. She tugged it twice and stood in front of her bed, waiting to see if the maids would arrive. When they did, they greeted her quietly and walked her over to the center of the room.

She wasn’t really sure how to speak to the servants; part of her felt guilty. She used to be one. But how does one possibly speak from the other side of it? She supposed it was best to let them do their jobs. Most of the time, she just wanted to be left alone in the presence of the wealthy. Small talk bored her, and she had a million other worries on her mind than which outfit looked better on which hair color. So she let them work her clothes off in silence.

What happened next was absolutely ridiculous. She realized she hadn’t been dressed by another person since she was at least five years old. She was dressed in layers, more layers than she was used to. She felt like a noblewoman, and somehow the dresses she had brought with her, came alive in a way they hadn’t before.

This dress was light pink and frilly. It almost made her look like she belonged in this place. It had bows, lace, and a dramatic bust. The dressmaker had stressed to her how something this beautiful could only be worn somewhere of beauty. He told her that she must wait for a special occasion—now was the occasion. What else would you wear to breakfast in a palace? She put on matching pink pearl jewelry. The price was exorbitant, but it was something that Roman had picked out for her. Things were different now; money was no issue, despite the feeling not yet setting in. The dresses he had bought her when they first met were nice—expensive dresses even—but this was on a whole new level.

The ladies huddled around her and added a pink rouge to her cheeks that complemented her skin tone well. Then, they added a lightly tinted glossy pigment to her mouth that caught the light perfectly. They used a waxy substance on her lashes to elongate them and then pressed a clean-scented powder to her skin. It was perfume, she realized. She never really bothered with perfume, but this one was gorgeous. It smelt like vanilla…cake and berries. She kept raising her wrist to her nose to smell it. One of the mousy maids reached for her hair, and Jane gently grabbed her hand to stop her.

“Madame… your hair… do you not want it styled?” she asked curiously.

“Uh… my hair is a bit of a mystery. I can’t style it like the other ladies; it’s far too… complicated. Please, let me figure it out” Jane scrambled. She ended her sentence with an awkward chuckle as the two maids looked at her strangely.

“No worries, madam. Eloise has special hair too; it requires gentle hands. One moment,” the maid said before disappearing to speak with the butler outside the room.

Jane and the chambermaids sat in awkward silence for a painful five minutes. A woman rounded the corner, her hair wrapped. She wore a white variation of the maid's dress, and her face was kind and smiling. Jane realized that this woman was the first person she’d seen who looked like her in ages. Her shoulders relaxed, and she let out a long sigh.

“Mary, madame. I see you are in need of a hairdresser? I can help” the woman asked in a thick French accent.

“Well, I was just going to wear it in twists,” Jane muttered.

“Twists are pretty, but maybe something more elaborate to go with such a detailed outfit. Trust me, mademoiselle, I’ve touched many heads like yours,” she suggests. A knowing smile crossed her face, disarming Jane. She spoke with such old wisdom that Jane immediately nodded.

Mary whispered something to the maids, and they left. She gently began to take Jane’s hair down, twirling the soft curls around themselves. The maids returned with curling rods and other hair products. They started a fire in the fireplace and quietly dismissed themselves. Now it was just Mary and Jane.

“You do this style often?” Mary asked.

“Yes… when I’m not wrapping it up. Can you tell?” Jane replied shyly.

“The hair has memory for sure. It’s very healthy—that’s a hard thing to maintain when you have so little product to work with. I made these creams myself. I use them on la petite Eloise. Her hair is thick and not quite like other little girls her age. It requires some work, but it’s very beautiful. She only allows me to touch it.”

“It used to be even harder, so I would just wrap it. It was hard to keep it soft at times. I had to make my own product before…” Jane stopped herself. Was she talking too much? This woman hadn’t asked for her life story. And why did she suddenly feel so self-conscious about what Mary might think of her? Jane tucked her lips as she snuck a glance at the woman in the mirror.

“Before… go on,” Mary chuckled.

Jane cleared her throat. “Before I met the gentleman I traveled with.”

“Ahh… Monsieur Roman. I’ve heard many stories about him. He is the Duke’s longest friend, and he’s supposed to be very fierce. Sir Roman is he your…?” Mary trailed off as she parted Jane's hair. Jane looked down into her lap. Would it be in bad taste to say the truth? They weren’t married. Truthfully, she didn’t think it would matter; they would go back to being pirates after this. Pirates don’t have wives.

“My companion. M-my friend,” Jane blurted. Women don’t have male ‘friends’, especially not in high society, but it’s not like she had a ring to say otherwise.

“I see. Well, he certainly will be able to tell you a thing or two about Paris. He used to frequent Paris quite a bit. I’ve seen him around”

Jane’s mind went blank. Why had she suddenly forgotten how to speak to a woman? She needed more friends, that’s for sure. “Yes. He brought me here as a surprise. D-do you like Paris?”

“Like? Sometimes. I think it’s easier to see the beauty in a place when you don’t live there. I can at least admire the architecture.”

“Yes. The buildings are a sight to see.”

Mary brushed Jane’s hair in sections, clipping up most of it while pulling a small piece out. She walked over to the fire and placed a long metal rod above the flames. After about a minute, she returned to the styling chair and wrapped a piece of cloth around Jane’s hair. She looped the hair around the heated rod, using the cloth as a barrier. After twenty seconds, she released the hair to reveal a large ringlet. Jane gasped.

“Wow,” she said, touching her hair gently with the tips of her fingers. She didn’t want to mess up the style, but it amazed her. Somehow, it made her hair look longer yet the curl was more dramatic. She’d never manipulated her hair in that way. “You are going to do that all over my head, just like this?!”

Mary burst into laughter. “You look like little Eloise after I do her hair. She jumps out of her seat and then starts dancing and posing in the mirror. Of course, mademoiselle, it’s why I’m here. Now hold still,” Mary said, resting the rod on a thick piece of cloth and pulling out another section of hair.

Jane could feel her excitement bubbling over as Mary continued to work on her hair. She couldn’t remember the last time she got excited about something like this. Having her hair done was a luxury she wasn’t sure she could part with.

“So… what part of France are you from?”

“I am from Haiti, but I came to Paris when I was about eight years old. I grew up here in Palais Royal with the former Duke—the King’s brother. My mother was a dressmaker, and I was her little assistant.”

“Ah, I see. Do you live here in the Palais? Or away?”

“Oui, in the servants’ quarters. Though I have my own apartment due to Eloise’s favor. The Duke treats his staff quite well,” Mary spoke with a relaxed tone, as if Jane were her longtime girlfriend. She liked that. The other maids seemed so high-strung and tense.

“I’m not from here… in Europe, I mean. I’m from Trinidad. I came to Europe as a child too,” Jane admitted. She felt a weight lift from her shoulders. She wasn’t about to pretend to be something she wasn’t.

“An island girl like myself? Who would have thought. What a peculiar place for us to be, no?”

“Peculiar indeed.”

“So I take it you’re not a former Kings gift? Or rather a Bastard to a Duke or Marquis?” Mary said playfully, with a suspicious tone.

Jane held back a laugh. “What gave it away?”

“You look me in the eye when you talk.”

Jane pondered that for a second. She remembered those days slaving away over a stove, serving a dish to people who couldn’t see her. She was invisible. Over time, that invisibility became a comfort.

“And if they were to look you in the eye, they would only be looking at their reflection in it,” Jane quipped absentmindedly. Mary let out a high-pitched laugh.

“What was your job before this?” Mary asked, working quickly and already finishing the back and crown of Jane’s head.

“Cook. I have fingertips of steel. I could probably wrap my hand around that rod and not feel a thing,” Jane joked.

“Explains the humor. Well, Madame Jane, I can tell that you and I are going to get along just fine,” Mary grinned knowingly.

The two fell into chatter and banter like friends. Mary was funny, and she seemed to know so much about everything. Jane even had to excuse herself from cursing a few times as it slipped out. Mary found it funny. The connection could only be explained as the harmony of having a conversation with another woman—there was nothing quite like it. And while Roman was the keeper of her secrets, he preferred to pacify and soothe. But talking to a woman—there was something almost spiritual about it. The idea that someone would just “get it,” whatever that “it” might be. The comfort in knowing that somewhere, your stories lined up, even if just for an instant.

Mary pinned Jane’s hair in a rolling pattern that accentuated her long neck. She left a singular thick curl hanging down against her shoulder. Then she dusted Jane's hairline with a pink sparkly gold powder that matched her pale pink dress and makeup. Jane gasped when she saw herself in the mirror.

“What do you call this style?!”

“The tête de mouton, or sheep's head. The ladies in Paris love this style.”

“I see why. Wow, I’ve never looked like this before. I mean, you practically did magic!” Jane exclaimed, brushing a finger against the curl on her shoulder.

“I am very pleased you like it, madame. Now one moment. The governess wants to meet with you before breakfast. I’ll see you soon,” Mary said, stepping back and curtsying before leaving the room.

Jane stood in front of the mirror, eyeing every detail. She’d never looked so beautiful. She pondered if the novelty of being dressed and styled to perfection wore off for wealthy women. She could never tire of this—of feeling pretty.

The governess broke her out of her trance with a clearing of her throat. Jane turned around and curtsied. The governess returned the gesture and walked further into the room. Jane couldn’t help but feel that these sorts of greetings were growing tiresome. The governess was a serious woman but kind enough. “Don’t worry about curtsying back to the help. A short, quick curtsy to ladies of the court is fine. More dramatic and precise curtsies are suitable for nobility. Just remember to bow to the Duke and Duchess. They are to be referred to as 'Your Grace.' We will go over other things for your Versailles trip. Are you ready?” she said.

Jane sensed that the governess was in a rush, so she didn’t bother to ask any questions yet. “I am.”

“Splendid. Follow me,” said Beatrice. Their heels tapped against shiny winding staircases. It took every bit of five minutes to reach the entrance of the dining room. Two guards stood on either side of the double doors and opened them for the pair.

“Madamoiselle Jane of London,” a white-wigged announcer called from the back of the room. It nearly startled Jane, but she stepped into the path of the room and walked through the doors. A ridiculously long table, which nearly stretched across the entire room, revealed little Eloise, the Duke, the Duchess, Roman, and Caden. Each corner of the room had a guard, and a line of cooks stood near the entrance of the kitchen. Everyone stood as the Duke and his wife joined hands and walked closer to where Jane stood. She bowed alongside the governess, muttering “Your Grace” and “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Oh, I can’t help it!” Charlotte lunged for Jane and wrapped her arms around her. She was a pale woman with curly, frizzy strawberry-blonde hair, large downturned green eyes, a button nose, and a bow-shaped mouth. She had a single mole on her right cheek. Slightly shorter than Jane, her comically large bust nearly cut off Jane’s circulation when she squeezed her so tight.

“Hi, call me Charlotte! Arnaud has told me so much about you two. You’re even more gorgeous than Roman could have ever described in the letter. I’m so happy to have you here!” the woman squeaked. Her British accent surprised Jane. Blinking at her with a flustered look, Jane smiled at the radiant woman before her. Charlotte had a porcelain-doll quality, and her bubbly personality fit her well; however, Jane hadn’t expected her voice to be so high.

“Nice to meet you, Charlotte.”

The Duke offered his hand for a shake, and Jane took it, happy to be over with the formalities. “Arnaud, It’s so nice to finally meet you. I hope you enjoy your stay here in Paris.” His French accent was thick, but she understood him clearly. Arnaud was tall, almost as tall as Roman. He had a thick beard, slanted almond eyes, a broad nose, full downturned lips, and dark skin. For a moment, the concept didn’t register, and a blank stare crept onto Jane’s face as she held his hand.

“You’re the Duke ?” she asked, dumbfounded.

A knowing smile crept onto Arnaud’s face. “I have my paperwork to prove it if you don’t believe me.”

“No—sorry. I mean… you know what? Never mind,” Jane scrambled to find the words.

“Relax. I get it. Not what you were expecting,” Arnaud laughed.

“Well… no,” Jane sputtered.

Suddenly, something tiny and furry ran through the gap between Jane’s feet, causing her to nearly stumble off balance. Arnaud caught her. A tiny body pushed past her feet on all fours, yelling in French.

“Mauvais chat! Come back here!” Eloise shouted.

“Good heavens!” the Governess gasped, clutching her chest. Eloise was chasing a white fluffy cat around the expensive dining room on all fours, meowing like a cat.

“Eloise! What did I tell you about chasing that cat?! Get off the floor! You’re terrorizing the poor thing!” Charlotte dodged for the little girl, crawling on the ground herself as Eloise chased the cat under the dining table. It was truly a sight to see, as most high born mothers did not bother reprimanding or even parenting their children.

Jane wasn’t sure if it was appropriate to laugh, but she had never seen anything like it in her life. Then the guards started chasing after all three of them—the cat, Eloise, and the Duchess—trying to prevent an accident and stop the cat from running up the drapes.

Arnaud turned to Jane with a tired look. “One thing I can say—I am never bored in this house.”

“I can see that,” Jane chuckled as he walked her to her seat next to Roman.

Roman pulled her chair out for her, and she took a seat, taking in all the wonderful dishes. A male servant greeted her and set a plate in front of her. The Duke sat across from them as if utter chaos wasn’t unfolding in front of them and started loading Jane’s plate with food. No one of Arnaud’s status had ever served her food.

She could feel Roman draw closer as he whispered, “You look stunning.”

“I hope so after how long it took to get ready,” she smiled.

Roman took her hand and kissed the back of it. Jane looked to Caden, who had been quiet as a mouse this entire time, watching Charlotte crawl past him with a determined look on her face as she grabbed hold of Eloise’s leg. Suddenly, Roman shifted in his seat and caught Eloise with one hand, lifting her in the air. There was a tiny shrill of her voice before she went limp in his iron grip.

“Pas juste!” she pouted. (No fair)

To Jane’s surprise, Roman muttered, “La vie n'est pas juste,” chuckling at the cat darting underneath the chairs before it was caught by a guard. (Life is not fair)

“Maybe for you,” Eloise teased.

Charlotte grabbed the child and quickly swatted her on the bottom, though it made no difference given how thick the child’s dress was. Instead, she just snickered as the governess took her to her room. Charlotte fixed her hair and straightened her dress before sitting down next to her husband. Order was restored to the room as Charlotte regained her breath. Arnaud looked to his wife and whispered something to her that caused her to giggle.

“I apologize that you all had to be subjected to that chaos. Eloise is a very advanced child, which means that left to her own devices, she will attempt to dominate whoever or whatever is in her vicinity,” Arnaud admitted. He almost looked proud of it, which made Jane look away to avoid laughing even harder.

“We hope the food is to your liking,” Charlotte added. They dug into the food, and at first, there was just the quiet of chewing and plate scraping. Then Caden decided to break the silence.

“So, Arnaud, how did you and Roman meet?” asked Caden. Jane finally got a good look at him now. A year’s worth of grime had been washed from his light chocolate hair, and he looked every bit of his teenage years—so baby-faced and bushy-tailed. He wore a matching brown jacket with black trousers. His hair was pulled back in a low ponytail. He looked uncomfortable, which was understandable. Although Roman and Jane had interacted with nobility in the past, Caden had never even seen a palace up close. Jane would be sure to check in with him when she had the chance.

“Roman and I are what one might say—adopted. We have a very similar backstory. We met when I took a trip to Germany as a young boy. The king was negotiating with their territory, and I saw someone my age playing in the ballroom. No introductions needed. Instant friends.”

“And he’s been a pain in my arse ever since,” Roman grumbled.

“Who are you telling? I can’t get rid of you,” Arnaud bantered.

“So I suspect your home is a bit further away?” Jane asked curiously. She hoped she wasn’t being too forward, but she had to know.

“Sierra Leone, actually.”

“I see,” a sad expression crossed her face. He was indeed a long way from home, just as she and Roman and Mary were—a feeling so unique from regular homesickness.

“What about yourself?” asked Arnaud.

“Trinidad, originally.”

One of his brows twitched in surprise. “How on earth did you two meet?”

“He… saved my life, actually.”

Roman rubbed the back of his neck. Jane didn’t understand his hesitance. “Long story…”

Jane took his hand and placed it on his lap subtly, not wanting to draw attention. It was reassurance. She felt safe to open up a bit. Arnaud and Charlotte were already drawn in, judging by their concerned expressions.

Jane cleared her throat. No turning back now. “Yes… he found me. The ship I was traveling on had a terrible accident. I was floating on a life raft for God knows how long. He found me and helped me get better. That was over a year ago. I owe my life to him.”

“You’ve saved my life as well. You have no debt with me, I assure you,” Roman muttered back quietly.

“Wow… what a strange way to meet a person. I’m so very glad you’re here with us, Jane,” said Charlotte.

“Who are you in relation to Roman?” Arnaud asked Caden.

“Roman took me in when I was young. He’s looked after me ever since. If you start meeting a lot of his friends, you’ll notice a pattern: everybody owes them their life. He nursed me back to health too. I think he has an affinity for finding the strays of the world,” Caden joked.

Arnaud let out a quick snort. “Very maternal, that one.”

“Now you’re pushing it,” Roman warned Arnaud. He chortled at Roman’s irritation.

“What about you, Charlotte? How did you and Arnaud meet, and how long have you been together?” asked Jane.

“A tavern in Southwark. His carriage broke down, and he came inside to have dinner. I served him. That was seven years ago now,” Charlotte smiled as she remembered the day fondly. Jane was even more confused.

“Served him?” Jane tilted her head.

“Why yes, I can only sell the highborn act for so long. I served beer to drunkards for a living, darling. My father was a farmer,” she giggled.

And there it was. Charlotte had a very approachable quality about her. Despite how pretty she was, there was a carefreeness to her that only someone working in the general public could have.

But how on earth was that marriage approved? Let alone them being from two very different parts of the world. However, Jane didn’t want her questions to come off as rude. She’s asked enough questions. One thing was for certain: they were an intriguing pair. Opposites certainly attract. She could tell Charlotte was the wild one, and Arnaud was the relaxed one. Perhaps she and Roman weren’t so different when it came to opposites. Jane had a tendency to be more reserved and withdrawn. It took time for her to get out of her shell. Roman was more straightforward, rougher around the edges. He wasn’t loud, but he wasn’t quiet either. He was just right for her, just opposite enough to make her a better person.

Breakfast was a surprising delight. The conversation was hysterical. Roman and Arnaud, as storytellers, were quite the pair. They were almost like siblings the way they shared mannerisms and inflections at times. Before they knew it, they had been sitting at the table for two hours.

Plans were made. There would be an official welcome dinner with all members of the Duke and Duchess's court. There were plenty of people that Jane hadn’t met yet. After that, Charlotte raved about the Opera with the live orchestra that she wished to invite Jane and Roman to. Jane had never been to a ballet, nor had she seen an orchestra play live before.

Until then, Arnaud took them on an expansive tour of the palace, which took every bit of an hour. She had no idea how or why the home of someone had to be so big. But it’s easy to forget just how many people lived in the palace: servants, soldiers, teachers, cooks, doctors and nurses, animal attendants, gardeners, and more. Not to mention the courtiers and advisors who lived there simply to keep the nobles company. The acreage was just as expansive. There was a vast greenhouse, gardens, orangeries, and horse pastures. Each bedroom was practically a mini museum, with portraits of the long line of royalty that once lived in the palace. Thankfully, there weren’t any in the bedroom they shared.

The rest of the day would be spent at her leisure. Charlotte decided to ride horses with Eloise. Arnaud and Roman went to have a drink on the balcony. They had a lot of catching up to do. She took this opportunity to have tea time, which apparently involved relaxing in a room lined with oil paintings, satin pillows, and floor-to-ceiling windows that swung open like doors. She brought Caden along with her.

“Are you okay?” Jane asked him quietly. The boy had his feet swinging over the side of the couch as he stared up at the mural above him.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked with an inquisitive tone.

“Because I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“I think they’re a bit strange. Not my idea of nobility. But I guess that’s a rather good thing, considering that with a warrant, Europe would be searching for Roman with dogs by now,” Caden scoffed.

“I think they’re rather sweet. Though I can’t imagine how people must talk about them behind their backs. Those poor people,” Jane muttered quietly.

“She probably gets the worst of it. She said that she’s a commoner, right?”

“Yes, which is why I don’t know how it happened. He must have some sort of favor. I don’t imagine an old king being nice enough to grant somebody their true love. It’s always duty and sacrifice with that bunch.”

“Rich people problems. Beats me,” Caden shrugged.

“How quickly you forget that you are, in fact, a rich man now. Though you’ve barely spent any of it quite yet. I’m very proud of you. Don’t let Rory set an example,” Jane sighed. Rory had suddenly decided he needed a new fur coat collection for the winter, which wouldn’t be for months.

“Why thank you Mother,” Caden teased. Jane chuckled. At times, Caden really did act like a teenager, which warmed her heart.

The room fell silent as she thought about their arrival for the trip. She understood Roman wanting to visit an old friend. But this was such a stark difference from what she was used to. With the way he talked about royalty, she never expected him to have any friends that were still affiliated. She felt there was more than one reason as to why they were here. She didn’t sense any malice or ill intent, thankfully, but he was so subliminal about the whole ordeal.

“Has Roman ever talked to you about Paris?”

“Taking you there, yes. Said something about how he had something special planned for you and to be on my best behavior, blah blah blah,” Caden sighed, turning over to face the cushion of the couch. “I’m taking a nap. Those bloody white-wigged bastards woke me up at 5 in the morning to dress me like some stupid baby. I’m tired.”

Jane scoffed and chugged the rest of her tea before retreating to her bedroom for the afternoon. Roman hadn’t come back yet, and she was starting to miss him. She had been informed that he’d gone into town, which surprised her. She would have gone with him had he asked her.

Later that evening, as the sun went down, Jane prepared for dinner with the court. This was an observed dinner with everyone from the Duke and Duchess's court included. Touch-ups were made to Jane’s hair and makeup. She changed into a deep blue dress. The bust, sleeves, and creases of the dress were trimmed with delicate black lace. The skirt was dramatic and wide, with flared sleeves, and the forearm of the dress was flared. She liked that this dress contrasted with the light, airy nature of the first dress. The finishing touch was a black lace choker, a smudge o black on the waterline, and a fake mole on her cheek. Face dots were especially popular here in France, and some women would cover their faces with them. Jane opted for just one. She changed into black heels, and a sheer glitter was added to her hairline. A matte dark red lipstick gave the look the perfect finish. A knock on the door grabbed Jane’s attention. It was Roman, holding a box in his hand. He had changed, and his hair fell down his back in damp waves.

“That will be all for now, ladies. Thank you,” she excused the group. The maids curtsied and left. Roman shut the bedroom door and closed the distance between them, standing behind the chair she sat in. The two of them faced a large mirror that nearly spanned the entire wall. “You are never wearing pirate hand-me-downs again. I forbid it when you look like that.”

A small smirk ghosted across Jane’s mouth before she rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Where have you been all day?”

“Oh, have I upset you with my absence?” Roman slyly leaned down and kissed the side of her neck. It took everything in her not to fall into him the way she usually would, to submit to the heat of his touch as she always had.

“I missed you. I had nobody to talk to. Caden went to sleep. It would have been nice to have company. I don’t know my way around here,” she pouted. Roman brushed his lips against her soap-scented skin.

“I went to the city to buy you something special to wear with your dinner dress,” he taunted. Carefully, he twirled the box in his hand and placed it in her lap. He pulled out a smaller second box and placed it on the table.

“You can’t open the little box quite yet. But this one is for tonight,” he explained. Jane hesitantly took the larger box, all blue and wrapped in red ribbon. She pulled off the silk and lifted it open to find a sizable necklace filled with sapphires and diamonds. She gasped at the way it glinted against the fireplace light.

“Roman… this must have cost you a fortune,” her hand flew to her mouth as she lifted it up, feeling the heaviness of it.

“Well, I couldn’t let you make your appearance without something special. These sorts of dinners are all about status, no matter how much they deny it. Having something nice on is a great way to avoid being treated poorly or ignored. It’s also a fantastic icebreaker. I can’t imagine what I’ll do if you are mistreated and I’d rather not find out. This will be a good conversation starter. I think it will match with your light blue dress. You can wear it for your portrait tomorrow.”

It took a moment for Jane to register what he was saying at first. “...My portrait?” she asked.

“Yes, your portrait. Here, let me see how it looks.” Jane reached up to take off her choker. He gently pulled the necklace from her grasp and placed it around her neck. She turned her neck to admire the way it sparkled. Truthfully, Jane wanted to inquire about the portrait, but there was so much going on at once that the thought slipped her mind when the jewelry hit her skin.

Her fingers graced the smooth stone. “It’s beautiful... I love it,” she murmured.

“ You wear it well”, he compliments.

“Will you walk with me to dinner?”.

“It would be my honor.”

They dressed Roman in what was called the habit à la française: his coat, waistcoat, breeches, silk stockings, jabot, cotton shirt, decorative cuffs, and cravat. His coat and breeches were a deep gray color. It complemented her outfit, and that’s when she realized that the people who dressed them corresponded. Beatrice escorted them to the great hall, and the doors opened for them, revealing a full room of people that looked like they wanted to eat her alive.

Roman POV

When you were presented before a court, you were sized up. It was one of the things he hated most about prestigious society. Roman wasn’t here for his health. A future for Jane must be secured, and in order to do that, he would be metaphorically offering the love of his life up to vultures. Except these vultures—more akin to peacocks—were flashy, rich, perfectly powdered, yet rotten on the inside. This would be their reality for the next two and a half hours.

The royal announcer called their names, ringing the dinner bell to hungry hounds as hollow, glistening, depraved eyes landed on the pair of them. Caden had already snuck his way into the room, his youth allowing him to sink into the background in a way they couldn’t. They paid their respects to the Duke and Duchess. Next came their courtiers and other members of rank. Jane’s bow was perfect. Charlotte kissed both sides of her cheek to show favor, something to sway the court. There would be a wait for dinner, and the great hall was full of bigwigs talking about feeble nonsense.

There were whispers, snickers, glares, and stares. Most of them were from the women, which was to be expected. Roman wasn’t particularly fond of the men and their obvious gawking. He and Jane stood near the dual windows overlooking the courtyard. Carts of beverages were rolled around. Roman grabbed a glass of champagne, while Jane chose water. She lifted the glass to her lips, her eyes widening as it fizzed against her palate.

“There’s something wrong with this water,” she warned.

“There’s nothing wrong. It’s supposed to be that way,” he chuckled at her shock as she cautiously took another sip.

“It’s bubbly… why is it bubbly?”

“Vichy water. It’s sparkling mineral water from Vichy, France, from the volcanic region. It has salts and healing properties. Sometimes they use it to treat gout or an upset stomach. Some people just like the taste.” He watched as she took small sips. She shrugged it off, seemingly satisfied with the sensation of the fizzing.

She fidgets, “Should I make conversation?” she asked hesitantly, looking around the room.

“No. Let them come to you.”

“How do you even know it’s me they’re staring at? It could easily be you. Pretty men are a rarity.”

A knowing smile crossed Roman’s face. “I’m not much of a crowd favorite. I wasn’t particularly known for my charming attitude prior to you. You’re shiny and new; I’m old news.”

Before Jane could even protest, a woman walked up. It was Madam Bernard. She was a woman in her late 30s, a member of Charlotte’s court and an official lady-in-waiting. Madam Bernard was a gossip but usually the most curious. She was also bitter that Roman would not bed her in his younger years. He nearly stepped protectively in front of Jane when her ghostly powdered face came into view. He resisted.

“Lady Jane, a pleasure to meet you. I go by Madam Bernard,” she smiled at Jane. Her teeth were always strangely sharp at the corners—an unnerving quality. Jane curtsied briefly.

“I believe we have met, Monsieur,” Bernard turned to Roman, a wicked glint bouncing off her eyes. Roman nodded stoically, not giving her the satisfaction of a true greeting.

“Where on earth did you get a necklace like that?”

“It was a gift,” Jane smiled, her disposition flustered.

Madam Bernard motioned toward Jane’s outfit. “It’s absolutely marvelous. And your dress… blue is your color, my darling.”

“That’s very kind of you to say,” Jane smiled. The room could smell her nerves. But this wasn’t Roman’s time to step in—not yet. Jane was more capable than most. This room, these people, were no different from the English—hungry with an appetite that would never be fulfilled. Jane knew how to navigate it. Two and a half hours. Just two and a half hours, and they’d be alone again. He was capable. She was capable.

So, with reluctance, he allowed their conversation to flow. He watched from afar. Eventually, Madam Bernard carried her off to her den of gossipers, and Jane was off and away. She mingled. She laughed. She twirled around in her dress to choruses of “Ooh la la!” and “Magnifique!”

One glance at Arnaud across the room. He looked miserable—he usually was at these kinds of gatherings. He cast Roman a knowing look as he held up a glass to his friend from afar. Roman did the same. Caden wandered over to him, snacking on a tray of berries now.

To Roman’s surprise, Jane had come out of her shell. She worked half the room. People came up in droves to speak with her. A kiss on the back of her hand had him adjusting his collar to keep himself cool. Jane was receptive, inviting, smiley, polite, careful. There was no doubt about it: Jane was beautiful. No matter how much anyone tried to ignore it, no matter how much she fit outside the lines of the standard for the region, Jane was beauty with a face. Parisians took eye-fulls of beautiful women with no shame. He also understood that there was a novelty to Jane. Nobody in the court looked like her. That was a cause for curiosity. Still, there was a thin line between intriguing, obsession, and possession. Nobility liked to own more than anything. But she knew that. Jane was a smart girl.

The courtiers were strange the way they struck up conversation. Topics were never meaningful. They believed their leaders to be invested more than they really were. Aside from who they served, they thought of themselves as supporting characters. They treated the room as their stage, believing others were paying more attention than they actually were. Maybe they were right, because Roman couldn’t help but notice how peculiar they were. Men would come up to Jane and ask her about the weather or talk about how hot the room was. They would randomly include her in conversations she wasn’t part of. They would say, “There are a lot of people here today,” with not so much as a hello. Jane remained unperturbed —careful, receptive.

Dinner was ready, and droves of chefs and servants flooded the hall to prepare the table. The Duke and Duchess would sit first. As Jane and Roman were seated, he could see the wheels turning in her mind.

“Do not touch your food until the Duke starts eating. Then you may eat. Use your utensils from the outside in. You start with the utensil furthest from the plate. Your fork is down on the table between bites,” he whispered quietly to her. He placed a napkin in her lap and then his. He could see a worried look on Jane’s face.

“If you get lost, just copy me,” he soothed. She gave him a quick nod and turned her attention back to the Duke, who quickly thanked everyone for joining him for the evening.

Dinner went on quietly. Roman shared quick glances with Jane. The man next to her struck up conversations about fashion and his favorite dishes. Jane chose Coq au Vin—or rather, the “red chicken,” which the gentleman found funny. He knew she didn’t speak French, so he ran down a list of French cuisines, sharing his favorites as well. This interaction was the least condescending or infantilizing conversation he’d heard directed at her all evening. It gave Roman room to relax.

After the main course, there would have to be a wait for dessert. Roman planned to excuse himself to the restroom, but a commotion could be heard behind the double doors of the great hall. In walked King Joseph De Pointe. The entire room rose as his presence was announced. He had aged severely since Roman last saw him decades ago. It was as if a ghost had walked into the room. He stood about 5'10", medium-built with a bit of a stomach from old age, and he had a militant walk. As he walked to the center of the room, everyone he passed bowed in his honor. The Duke and Duchess swiftly walked toward him and bowed deeply at his presence. He whispered something to the Duke, and they both looked at Jane. Now Roman knew why he had come so early into the trip; he wasn’t supposed to meet Jane for at least another two weeks.

From the outside looking in, it might not seem that a commoner would mean so much to the King, that he would interrupt dinner to meet her. But he would. The Persians are just that vain, and nobility is even vainer. It matters that Jane is beautiful; it matters that Jane is poised. It matters how they look together. And while a favor is owed, he has the final say. He who is associated with the crown is someone of purpose and beauty. One has to know how to perform.

The old man walked across the large open circle of the connecting dining tables that filled the room and headed straight for Jane. Roman whispered quickly, “Do not look him directly in the eye.”

“Why?!” she whispered.

“It’s an invitation.”

James's eyes widen before she lowers them. The King now stood directly in front of her. Roman bows first, followed by Jane, who says, “Your Majesty.” His eyes scan Jane as she nervously stares past him. The intensity of his gaze prompts Roman to gently wrap his arm around Jane’s waist. The King looks up at Roman as if he has suddenly appeared from thin air.

“Très bien,” he calls to the Duke over his shoulder.

He falters on his feet as little arms wrap around his leg. Startled, he bursts into a hearty chuckle as he picks up Eloise and holds her in his arms. She is happy to see her adoptive grandfather. She has no inkling of the atrocities and chaos he has caused in other countries. She does not understand his alignment with eugenics or the people he has left hungry in the streets of Paris. All she knows is the warmth and adoration of her grandfather, who is not of her blood. In some sick and twisted way, it is a testament to how powerful love can be and proof of how many people are undeserving of it. Maybe karma isn’t real. Maybe one’s own torturer is not holed up in a cognitive doom, regretful, reflective, and repentant. Even the worst of people live their lives and move on. At the very least, their victims should, too. And that’s why he must take the life Jane is owed.

Whispers hum across the court as people notice the interaction between Jane and the King. They wonder about her importance. This is a good thing; it will earn favor—anything to make her interactions within the court easier.

The King stays for dessert, and there’s another 20 to 30 minutes of mingling before people begin to retreat for the night. Proper farewells are given to those who require them. Roman escorts Jane back to their guest suite.He watches as she removes parts of her outfit while storming down the hall, moving quickly as they pass their posted Butler.

“30 minutes please, Joffrey,” says Roman.

“Very well, sir,” the butler responds.

Roman shuts the door, and Jane stands in front of the mirror, angrily taking the pins out of her hair. Her hair falls into long, voluminous curls that cascade onto her shoulders. She reaches for her corset, too proud to ask him for help.

“Let me get that,” Roman insists.

“NO!,” she barks.

Roman retreats from the sting of her tone and tosses his jacket on the floor as he sits on their bed. He runs a hand down his face, knowing he’s in for an earful. “Tell me what I’ve done.”

“What sort of agreement do you have with the Duke that the king of France is having a staring contest with me in front of a hundred fucking people?” she sneers.

Roman sighs.“Jane…relax.”

Her eyes narrow suspiciously. “Are you planning on giving me away? Are you trying to send me off with one of those rich old men?” she presses.

He stands at the accusation.“What!? N-No. I love you. Why would I do that?”

Her breathing is labored. Her eyes shoot around the room as if she’s coming up with a plan. “I won’t be his mistress or anybody’s mistress. I’m not marrying anybody you set me up with. You can act like it’s for the best or you’re doing me some favor by whoring me out but I’ll sooner die! If we’re done, then have the guts to say it, but I’m not staying here if—”

Roman’s eyes nearly buck out of his head as he rushes into her space, holding his hands up in surrender as he tries to reason with her. “Whoa, whoa, whoa!!! Let’s start over,”He can see the beginnings of that familiar panicked and trapped look returning to her—one he hasn’t seen in a long time, and it turns his stomach. He wishes not to return to that dynamic.

“Why would you think that I would ever send you away? You are my heart's keeper, Dove. You know this,” Roman says, pulling her hands into his and pressing the backs of her fists to his mouth. She turns her head away in protest. He gently grabs her chin and holds it between his fingers. Her eyes are glassy with tears as she tries to cover sadness with anger.

“I’m not going anywhere. You aren’t going anywhere. You are mine as long as you allow it. Let me explain it all to you. You’ll let me explain?” He presses his forehead to hers. His tone is quiet, just above a whisper—a trick he learned to ease her anxiousness. If she could barely hear him, then she would have to focus on listening. It could stall her panic and help her calm down. She hesitantly nods but he can feel the panic steaming off of her.

“I came here to secure your future—our future. I wrote to Arnaud weeks ago and asked for his favor in securing an honorific lordship title. Arnaud holds favor with the King. The King has the final say on who gets appointed a title, so he came to see what you looked like and will make his final decision soon. He wants to see how well you handle yourself in high society before he agrees. The only reason he made haste with the request was because I made a sizable donation to his church. This tactic is common in people who want something from him. People looking for political immunity or people who want to sway his opinion,” Roman explains.

Jane’s eyes shift from confusion to sharp understanding. However, she pulls away. “I thought you never wanted this life again. Why are you going back to what caused you so much pain? We have money. We don’t need these people.”

“You’re right; we do have money. However, we have no home. We have no property besides Totoguam which isn’t adequate enough in size if we were to settle roots there. We don’t even have bank accounts or investments. We will always have to hoard our stash; otherwise, we risk being suspected of criminal activity. If I go back to that ship and sail to another pirate-filled port after all this time, they will know. I’ll be a walking target. I am done putting you in harm's way. I want stability for you. If it means that you are safe, it will always outweigh the cost,” he pleads. Jane’s gaze switches back and forth between his eyes. She’s reading him. Confusion is still etched on her face. He may not win her over.

Jane shakes her head in denial. “But you love the sea. Why subject the rest of your life to being around these people you hate? That’s a miserable existence. Shouldn’t your happiness matter too?”

“We would rarely make appearances. It would only be the most necessary parties that we attend, maybe three to four times a year. The countryside is three hours away from here, near the beach. We won’t have to worry about keeping up with the Paris court. We can make our home whatever we want. It can be a sanctuary for all our brothers when they need it. If we want to sail, we sail. If we don’t want to sail, then we don’t. My point is that we will have something to come back to Jane. Out there in the open sea—it’s all temporary. In a split second you could lose it all. This will give us the opportunity to have a real home. A true home, Jane,” he urges. Jane goes quiet, and Roman’s stomach sinks; she is still not sold on the idea.

He sighs a defeated breath as he steps back to give her space. Her body language is open but defensive. He drops her hands gently. “I should have consulted with you first. Maybe I didn’t because I knew you would be hesitant. I didn’t go about this the right way. It was never my intent to scare you. It’s just that ever since we met, I’ve started to really think about the future, Jane. You must understand, before you came into my life, I didn’t bother picturing what life would look like ten years from then. I lived moment to moment. But now that I have you, I must do this right. I must seize this opportunity to give you the life you deserve,” he says. She’s slightly disarmed, and her eyes trail down to his mouth and then back up to his eyes. It was funny that even during a disagreement he could still see the love she had for him. That ultimately, they both wanted to understand each other even when their views were different. He loved her…

“You’ve sprung this on me very suddenly. You’re right; you should have consulted with me. You have made your points and I can see how you would feel the way you do. I need some time to think about this. I can’t make any promises yet,” she crosses her arms hesitantly. She looks down at the carpet. Her lips twitched as if she wanted to say more.

Roman says nothing but continues to study her. She walks back over to the bed, putting her head in her hands. “This is a big step. And while we may be afforded solitude, there is still a duty to be fulfilled. How would we be any better than the people who have hurt us? No matter how low in rank, we would be part of this system.”

He walks to her space, standing in front of her. “We would be part of the French gentry, which are titled non-nobles. I would indeed have a vague association with the King, and that is something I’m willing to sacrifice morally to ensure your future. I’ve pondered this for many nights. If there has to be a bad person in this situation, then allow me to be the monster. I won’t pretend that I’m not selfish when it comes to you. You make me impulsive…you make me uncooperative and irrational at times. Maybe even most of the time. My condolences to whoever gets in the way. But I…I must have you, Jane. You and you only.”

His words burn in his mouth, but from the ensnared gaze she sends his way, she is on fire. She plays with her necklace and hair, biting her lip as she contemplates what he said.

“I’m not giving you an answer right away, no matter how convincing you are. I need time to think,” she mutters and stands. He doesn’t know why she feels the need to put her foot down, but he can at least afford her this. He’s already made the mistake of being sneaky. Now he must pay.

“That’s fine,” he says, stepping closer, and she doesn’t move. Another step, and she doesn’t budge. He goes in for a kiss, and she dodges it at the last minute, turning around so he can undo her corset.

Jane's POV

Jane doesn’t think she’s ever been so conflicted in her life. Deep down, she can’t believe that he would want to leave his pirate years behind. What about Caden? What about Adhar? What about everyone? Everyone had a different idea of what their future would look like. William left to make things right with his wife. Other pirates, like Daniel and Gregory, retired alongside dozens of other mates. Rory wanted to keep sailing, and so did Caden. Roman, being a lord, also meant she would be his wife eventually. Could she do that? Could she do it well? How much of their lives would they give up to conform to this new standard? If she married him, would he change as they fell into domesticity? Would there not be enough excitement to keep him interested? Worst of all, what if she began to feel trapped? If she married him, he would own her. Could she take that chance?

Roman wasn’t there when she woke up. The servants informed her that he had picked out what he wanted her to wear for the portrait: a light blue dress and no makeup. As she sat to get her hair done, she noticed that Mary hadn’t brought any heating tools. “No sheep’s head style today?”

Mary shook her head. “Monsieur Roman requested that you wear it down for your picture. But don’t worry; I will give you a more elaborate style before the show,” she promised.

“So be it,” Jane rolled her eyes at the mention of him. As annoyed as she was with him, the requests warmed her heart. She remembered those quiet nights on the boat when it felt like they were the only two people in the world. Perhaps she was scared of change.

Mary wet her hair and wrapped her coils around her fingers, section by section. Each strand was left shiny and wet, waiting to air dry. She took breakfast in the courtyard to speed up the process. Caden spent most of his days in the library, and he showed it to her. There were so many books and documents to choose from. She spent lunch there before she was sent off for her portrait. She didn’t even understand why she agreed to this, but it was something to do.

She was escorted down a winding staircase that led to a marble hall. All of the rooms on this floor were open. At the end of the hall, she could see the Duke sitting next to someone. Arnaud was in front of a canvas.

“Your Grace?” Jane called from the doorway.

“Ah, Jane. Come inside. Make yourself comfortable,” he said.

Jane walked into a room full of paint and plants. Every piece of furniture was covered in sheets. The windows were open, letting in a lukewarm breeze. Jane gasped as she saw portraits of people, animals, fruits, houses, and a baby who looked a lot like Eloise.

“You did these?!”

“Of course. Who else?” Arnaud smiled. The man next to him started to mix paints, solvents, and thinners. The smell was strong, which was why the windows were open. She didn’t mind it.

“Can I sit here?” Jane motioned for a seat by the window. Arnaud studied the lighting and shadows of the room and agreed. A servant offered her tea, and she accepted: two sugars and a splash of cream.

“I had no idea you were such a talented artist. Is that little Eloise as a baby?” Jane smiled, motioning to the canvases on the wall.

“Oh yes. She was about eight months old there,” Arnaud said fondly.

“What about these other people?”

“Some of them are from my court—people I’ve met over the years. Some of them are from dreams.”

“I’m jealous. It must be a hard skill.”

“It’s a lot easier than you might think. Most of it is just shading and blocking. It’s about looking at the overall picture before focusing on the details. You can mold a shadow into the silhouette of a woman with practice. A trick I always use is squinting my eyes as I paint the foundation before I focus on the finer details. I’ve gotten better with practice.”

“I’ve never thought about it that way.”

His assistant continued to add more colors to his palette before he bowed and left. “So how have you been enjoying your stay?” Arnaud asked.

Jane went to speak but hesitated. Has she been having fun? There had been enjoyable moments, but the conversation with Roman had been sobering. The interaction with the King was strange. “It has been… interesting.”

Arnaud stopped his blocking and paused to look at her for a moment. Jane nodded cautiously. “Roman and I had a discussion last night. He finally came clean about why we’re here.”

Realization spread across Arnaud’s face. He looked slightly guilty. “You’re not the one who’s in trouble,” Jane chuckled.

Arnaud threw her half a smile and began painting again, building the structure of the picture. “And how do you feel about the idea?”

“I’ve never been more confused about anything in my entire life.”

“Ms. Ramlal, speak freely if you must.”

Jane raised a brow at him. Did he really want to know? Or maybe Roman was friends with him because of their shared ideas? Arnaud had been nothing less than graceful since she met him. She didn’t want to offend him. His regality could be a bit intimidating despite his kindness.

“I’m not sure it would be wise.”

“Do you honestly suspect my utter allegiance to a place that held me hostage? At the very least, I afford myself criticism. Others are allowed the same,” Arnaud sighed tiredly.

Jane paused. Well, he had a point. “Roman had a very difficult time in his early years. Europe has caused him much pain. It’s caused me much pain. I wonder if us being a titled family would make us guilty for the suffering of others. He says that if it does, he’s okay with it. Roman has a habit of becoming tunnel-visioned when it comes to me. He is willing.”

“Roman has a head made of stone when he sets his mind on something,” Arnaud said. Jane chuckled.

“We won’t be nobles, just low-titled. He makes that distinction as if it makes things better. Perhaps it does. But we answer to the crown at some point. Even being here—buying these expensive luxury goods. In some way we are contributing to someone’s suffering. I have a hard time getting over it. Being on the other side of it can feel very strange.”

“In some ways, you do,” Arnaud agreed.

“I feel that if I accept this position, then I am betraying the woman I used to be. Betraying the women who I lived with and grew to know. Betraying people like me,” Jane sighed.

“Now I must speak freely,” said Arnaud. His tone loosened, falling out of that distant, respectable voice.

“Please,” Jane urged.

“The grim reality, Ms. Ramlal, is that you do not get paid for suffering.”

Jane froze at those words. They rolled off his tongue easily. They were slightly sharp when they hit her, but the kindness in Arnaud’s eyes reassured her.

“Women like you, people like you—there is no reward for the pain. You get this life, and then you pass on. They dangle the idea of upward mobility above your head to keep you running. The minute you return to the earth, someone fills in your spot. It’s how the system sustains itself. It sustains itself on the guarantee that you will struggle and never see that reward. Not just you, but millions—of people just like you. You are born in one specific position and that is your assigned role. Your duty it to stay at the post you were given at birth. Miraculously, impossibly, you have snuck past your assigned post and now you are here. You are not here as a servant, or a slave, or for entertainment. You are here by sheer luck. You have been given resources that were never intended for you. You have been given security that is supposed to be systematically withheld from you. You may very well be one of the only women with your background, your skin, your life to ever have some semblance of security. You weren’t stolen, you weren’t bought. You are here out of free will. I imagine that could be quite frightening in some aspects ?” Arnaud glanced at her while mixing two colors to get a light blue shade.

“It is,” Jane said, her tone quiet and inward now.

“ You are guilty of no crime. You are not a bad person for ending up here. I don’t want to push you into this. Please believe me when I say that… I speak only from the purest intent when I say this. I believe that the people who came before you—all the people who have struggled in your bloodline—all the people who loved you, none of them want you to suffer. None of them want your life to be any harder than it used to be. They never get to see the seeds they planted sprout and turn into trees.”

Jane was unmoving as she stared back at him. She never would have guessed that he would say such a thing, to be so introspective from his pedestal.

“Instead, you have a choice. A choice is a beautiful thing to have, trust me, Jane. And within that choice, you make it alongside a man who is irrevocably, unabashedly in love with you—a rarity, even among the most noble of them all. There is no force, no violence. Only a blank canvas waiting to be filled,” he said.

The room went silent now. Arnaud’s eyes shifted from her face to the canvas. He was likely blocking in her face and hair now. She took a few sips from her tea, yet another small discovery since being here. She had never had it before. It was spicy and warm on her tongue—cinnamon, orange, vanilla, and other flavors she couldn’t describe. Would every day be like this? A realization of just how small her world used to be?

For a moment, she nearly lost it. There was a knot forming in her throat, her palms becoming wet. Her composure was so close to snapping that it caused her to shift in her seat. This stranger gave her the permission she couldn’t even give to herself. She hated the way her voice wobbled. She hates the vulnerability of it all. But his presence is quiet and knowing. If she closed her eyes, she could believe he was a vessel from the other side in that moment—or maybe just a manifestation of his natural wisdom. “At times, I worry that I’ve made my pain my identity,” she says.

The look he gives her nearly blows her away. It’s a slip of his mask, too—an acknowledgment, a subtle nod to the idea, a quiet “me too.”

She finishes her tea, and now Arnaud is really working the canvas. A few minutes of silence pass before she gets the courage to ask about him—really ask about him. She sits up straighter and clears her throat. “ Since we’re speaking freely. How exactly did you end up in Paris?”

Arnaud inhales quietly as if he almost prepares himself to say the words. “If you’ve heard Roman’s story, then you’ve heard mine. Except I was actually royalty in my homeland. I was stolen—plain and simple. I was about seven years old. I was a gift to the ‘Angel of Versailles.’ That’s what they call Queen Angelique De Pointe here. The King and Queen already had seven children at that point. Angelique’s last child—a child about 7 years old, passed away. It was becoming popular in Europe to have one of our kind as companions. Angelique wanted one, and Joseph would stop at nothing to make her happy. That’s where I came into the picture.”

“Very similar stories. I’m glad you two at least had a friend in each other.”

Arnaud nods. “One of the better things to come out of it.”

“Your daughter seems to adore him,” Jane suggests.

“He formed a soft spot for her in particular. All of his grandchildren are boys. He even has tea parties with her at the palace. Remarkable, isn’t it? That someone like him could hold adoration in his heart for a small child that has no relation to him in any way. I certainly wasn’t afforded any of his affections as a child. Then again, why would I want it? I would hate to love my kidnapper. It would make it all the more complicated to identify what is love and what is not,” Arnaud shrugs.

“... Do you want her to have a relationship with him?”

“Yes. She’s far too young to understand. She will know one day. For now, he’s just her grandfather.”

“He must hold some affection for you, though. I mean, you are a Duke. You have a royal title. You have some pull in the monarchy. That’s unheard of. I thought most adoptees just faded away.”

“I’ve often wondered why he would go out of his way to title me as well. The only thing that could explain it…is that he is old. He has but so many years left. The closest atonement he has for his sins is to give people what they want. He knows the destruction he’s left in his path. You see, it’s the ego—the cognitive dissonance of all of it. There is a belief that if you are a winner, if you are a conqueror, if you are stronger, you are favored by God. You MUST be a good person because of the power you hold. I'm sure that men like him believe this to be true. I’m sure that’s how he reasons with the violence. At least that’s my theory.”

“He had trouble swallowing his food, I noticed. Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s old age… and guilt,” Jane says. Arnaud nods in agreement.

“Time has passed, and he has grown more tolerable. I'm no fool; I recognize that his growing friendliness toward me is less equal to that of a son and closer to how a man adores his dog. His children have married off and started their own families. For a while, I was the only one of his kids living at the palace. I regrettably and embarrassingly only started to live my life in my thirties. I was always there—reliable, constant. Thankfully, things started to look up when I met Charlotte. I wanted to give her a better life, so I started asking for more. He granted my wishes. I suppose that somewhere deep in his heart, buried in the most human parts of himself, he feels he owes me for all I’ve endured at his hands. Though the idea will never cross his mind in his wake.”

“I’m sorry…” Jane sighed sadly.

“It’s alright. It’s just the way life plays out sometimes. I have found parts of this world that belong to me alone, like my love for Charlotte, my beautiful daughter, my art, the home I’ve made of Palais Royal. This is the post I have made for myself. I will not abandon it.”

Jane smiles at the way his eyes light up as he talks about his family. His love for Charlotte is genuine, and Eloise is adored by everyone. “I’m happy you’ve found your family.”

“And so have you. Which is why I think you will be just fine if Roman becomes seigneur.”

“What exactly is a seigneur?”

“A seigneur, or lordship, is a feudal title appointed by His Majesty the King. He is granted a large piece of land to rule over. This land is governed by the seigneur, who lives on the land and builds a community. He establishes farms, crops, wheat mills, churches, manages taxes and tenants, and grants licenses. He organizes a town, and the people in it answer to him. Don’t worry about the land belonging to anyone else. The countryside of France is rural with not many inhabitants. Roman would most likely govern there.”

“I see. So essentially, Roman would have the power to create the community he wants?”

“Correct. Now, of course, there will be certain guidelines, but I’m sure he’ll find a way around them like he usually does. It would be whatever you two make it.”

“You very well may be saving him from sleeping in another room tonight,” Jane quipped.

A throat clears and it startles her. “Very bold of you to say, especially knowing you’d get the most horrible sleep of your life,” Roman scoffed.

Jane rolled her eyes at the smirk on his face. He strolls into the room and sat next to her on the couch.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. I didn’t invite you to sit over here,” Jane sighed.

“Oh, don’t be like that. I just wanted to see how you were doing and ask if you’ll allow me in the room if I agree to sleep on the floor,” he smirks.

Jane shook her head, feeling a smile creep onto her lips. Roman leaned back into the couch, his long, muscular leg crossing over his knee. One of his arms sling over the seat as he stared back at her. He clearly felt no shame at her utter annoyance. There was nothing in his eyes but pure adoration, and his smile showed that he could feel hers, too.

“You know what? I think this picture would be much better with both of you in it,” Arnaud quips.

“Fine. How should I pose? Do we need to start all over again?” Jane asked.

“No. I’ve got your clothing down. I’ll just restart from the neck up. Just keep looking at him.”

And that’s how Jane found herself stuck staring at him for the next four hours. By the end, he had her laughing. He always did. He would say something, and she could feel the heat in the room rush to her skin. With nowhere to hide from the heat of his gaze, she was stuck. She should have known it was a ploy to get on her good side—and it worked. When Armaund left the room she pulled him down for a kiss.

After a quick dinner, the time for the Ballet was approaching. A deep red dress with black trimmings would match the theater curtains, or at least that’s what her stylist said. Jane had never been to a theater, and she was intrigued about how it would feel to finally sit inside one. Mary kept Jane’s natural curls but pinned them up in a pouf style, arranging her hair into a hive shape. A few face-framing curls pulled the look together. A ruby choker matched the color of her dress, but she kept her lips soft and bare; otherwise, it would be “too on the nose,” according to Gaston.

Gaston was a male makeup artist who wore gold on his eyes and rings on every finger. His accent was heavily Mediterranean, and he always wore a tightly curled white wig as a status symbol. Not only was his style eccentric, but so was he. He was rumored to be one of the best in Paris, so Jane trusted his judgment. The two agreed to repeat the same eye makeup on her as the night before. He would place a black kohl-like substance on her waterline. When she asked what it was called, Gaston recalled Arnaud’s friend's wife from North Africa. Apparently, she would smear a black color into her eyes to accentuate them.

“She used something called kajal! I made my own products to mimic it. It made her look so sultry. Like a cat! I absolutely loved it! But you know the French women here all want to look like children—so obsessed with wide eyes and pinched cheeks. Stupide et ennuyeux! I never get to experiment. This is why you are sent from heaven. You have yet to say no to me. Finally, somebody who lets me work!” Gaston gushed.

Jane laughed at the way he dramatically threw the back of his hand over his forehead. So far, there hadn’t been any misses with her assigned team of stylists. They always made her feel beautiful, and they were easy to talk to. Jane twirled in the mirror, admiring the final outcome of her look. “You are ready to own the night, Mon Cher. This will certainly get back to Versailles!” Gaston placed a jacket onto Jane’s shoulders.

“I take it you're in on the operation to get Roman and me titled as well? I’ve been walking amongst traitors.”

“You’re just now catching on? You’re a little late to the party, darling. Your beauty makes up for it. Now prepare to be copied. By the time they catch on, you’ll already be onto the next thing,” said Gaston.

Roman was quite pleased with the look. He stole many kisses in the carriage. Charlotte and Arnaud rode ahead of them and Jane couldn’t be more grateful for it. His beard burns across her décolletage as her fingers somehow loop themselves into his hair. What was once a ponytail was a tousled swell of silky black strands. Every time her hands would tug on his hair he would press into the side of her body harder—a welcomed punishment. She enjoyed the suffocation, the mugginess, the tight quarters. His teeth found her skin, gentle but alluring all the same. His mouth sucked the skin of her breasts leaving darkened flushed hues of pigment for anyone to see. Thank goodness for the low light of the theater. With many more appeasing yet reciprocal kisses, she convinced him that it was in fact important that they not skip the opera. After all, this was Jane’s first time.

“If you mess up my hair, we’re going to have a problem. Mary spent an hour on it,” Jane gently pressed her hand against her updo. It was still intact.

“What about me? My hair was pulled back before we got into this carriage, need I remind you? That’s not very fair,” he scoffed.

“It’s better down anyway,” Jane smirked.

Roman opened the carriage door and helped her down the steps. Arnaud and Charlotte stood near the entrance waiting for the pair. The sounds of horses stomping and neighing filled the stone-paved streets as carriages pulled up to attend.

“Watch your step; there’s horse shit everywhere,” Roman grumbled as he pulled her closer.

The tall, ornate doors, framed by intricate carvings of floral motifs and cherubic figures, loomed among the other buildings on the street. A marbled staircase, its steps worn smooth by the passage of countless patrons, ascended beneath a lavish canopy of crimson and gold fabric, fluttering softly in the evening breeze. Guests, adorned in their finest silks and lace, chatted animatedly, their laughter mingling with the strains of a distant orchestra. There were stares and whispers directed toward Roman and her; she had gotten used to it by now. The faint scent of perfume and the earthy notes of fresh-cut flowers from nearby arrangements wafted through the air, fighting against the smell of the horses. It dissipated the closer they got to the doors.

The towering columns seemed to reach the clouds, crowned by a grand pediment where allegorical figures danced in sculpted relief. The soft glow from within the theater spilled onto the steps. The foyer was noisy with the clicking of heels and the chatter of wealthy men and women. As they crossed the threshold into the auditorium, the stage revealed itself in all its splendor. Draped in deep crimson velvet, the proscenium arch was embellished with intricate golden filigree, framing a scene that was both inviting and magical. The stage itself, expansive and meticulously crafted, was decorated with lavish painted backdrops depicting ethereal landscapes, castles, and mythical realms.

The seating was arranged in a horseshoe formation, with plush, upholstered chairs in rich fabrics of burgundy and gold. Each seat was carefully positioned to afford an unobstructed view of the stage. Box seats lined the walls, each featuring velvet curtains that could be drawn to reveal or conceal the spectators within. These private enclaves, often reserved for the nobility, boasted intricate woodwork, showcasing the status of their occupants. The four of them would have the highest seats with a private catered booth.

Above, the ceiling soared—a magnificent expanse painted in soft pastels, depicting celestial scenes filled with cherubs and swirling clouds, as if the heavens themselves opened up to watch the stage. Ornate plasterwork framed the scenes, and the edges were lined with delicate gold leaf.

The theater buzzed with whispered conversations and laughter, the anticipation palpable as the lights dimmed, casting a soft glow over the audience. The smell of smoke was strong in the air. A waiter came with trays of tobacco, pipes, alcohol, and a small box placed discreetly in the back of the tray. He filled Charlotte and Arnaud's orders before turning to Roman.

“Brandy and a pipe. What about you?” Roman turned to her.

“The vermouth, please,” said Jane.

The waiter poured their drinks into sparkling, pristine crystal glasses. Her vermouth had oranges and limes in it.

“Oh, what is that?” Jane pointed to the carved black box on the serving platter.

“Snuff, madam. Would you like some?” the waiter asked.

“Does it go in the drink?” Jane asked curiously. Roman chuckled with Arnaud.

“You snort it, silly! It goes in the nose and makes you all fuzzy and happy. It’s like you drank ten cups of coffee. I’ll have some, sir,” Charlotte put out her hand and turned it over with her palm facing the ground. The server placed the powder on the back of her hand with a small scooper, and Charlotte sniffed it up.

“You don’t have to try it if you don’t want to,” Roman murmured quietly to her.

“Sensitive nose,” Jane excused. Charlotte looked a little disappointed but nodded.

“Don’t feel bad for Charlotte. She will find any excuse to party. You’ll see at the ball,” Arnaud chuckled.

“Not true,” Charlotte playfully rolled her eyes and scooted into Arnaud's lap. He patted the side of her thigh as he exhaled a puff of smoke.

“A ‘no’ is good for her every once in a while,” Arnaud joked. Charlotte flicked him on the forehead.

Roman took a small sip of his brandy and then a puff of his pipe. She drank a little from his cup. It wasn’t her favorite, but she deliberately placed her mouth on the part of the cup his lips touched. He caught her and his eyes darkened as he shook his head at her. She giggled mischievously when their eyes met.

Jane could see the wandering eyes of the other guests. Many people stole quick glances at the group. She wondered if they were glances of offense; it was often hard to tell with the Parisians. Either way, they had no authority to reprimand or kick them out. For once in her life, Jane felt untouchable—comfortable in a place that did not prioritize her comfort. Maybe it was their incredible hosts or just being alongside the man she loved. Jane sipped her own drink as she opened the brochure for the show while the curtains opened. The show began, and the room darkened. A single light appeared on the stage.

Iphigénie en Tauride is a tragic opera based on the myth of Iphigenia, daughter of Agamemnon. The story unfolds as Iphigenia, saved from sacrifice by the goddess Artemis, finds herself in Tauris, where she serves as a priestess. Her brother Orestes arrives, pursued by the Furies for avenging their father’s murder. The siblings, unaware of each other’s identities, are caught in a web of fate, sacrifice, and familial duty, ultimately leading to a reunion and a quest for redemption.

The experience of watching Iphigénie en Tauride was enthralling and emotional for Jane. The stage props depicted the rugged landscape of Tauris, enhanced by dramatic backdrops and oversized body parts like hands and heads. The costumes of the actors were rich and ornate, with performers clad in flowing robes that reflected their noble heritage and emotional trials.

As the music swelled, she was captivated by the powerful arias and choruses, her emotions stirred by the blend of tragedy and beauty. The orchestra was so loud that the vibrations of the music rumbled in her chest. The gas lamps flickered above, casting a warm glow that highlighted the faces of rapt spectators as they reacted to the unfolding drama. Gasps, tears, and applause rippled through the crowd, creating a shared experience of profound themes of love, sacrifice, and fate that resonated with everyone in some way.

Jane was moved to tears. It was embarrassing at first, but then she realized just how many others were affected. Plenty of men cried alongside the women. Roman pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to Jane, and she blotted her face with it.

“I would pay good money to see this for the first time again. I was like you,” Charlotte sighed as she fanned herself.

“How many times have you been?” Jane asked.

“This is my second year seeing it and my tenth time. It’s my favorite,” Charlotte swooned.

“The things we do for love. Grab your coat. ” Arnaud said, taking a final hit from his pipe and pulling Charlotte up from her seat. He placed her coat on her shoulders as she finished her glass of wine.

“I suppose those were tears of enjoyment?” Roman asked as he helped her into her coat.

“Enjoyment. Sadness. Relief. I’ve never seen anything like it. I wish we didn’t have to go,” Jane pouted.

“I’ll bring you back for another show,” Roman chuckled as they walked down the stairs to the foyer.

“Opera isn’t your forte, is it?” Jane suggested.

“I’m familiar with the arts. I’ve indulged in them to the point of apathy. But seeing you experience it was the best part of the night,” Roman replied.

The four of them were swallowed up in the crowd heading for the doors. When the night air hit them, Jane felt energized after such an intense show. She wasn’t ready to end the night.

“You two fancy a nightcap back at home?” Arnaud asked.

“Actually, I think we’re going to take the long way home. Don’t wait up for us,” Roman said.

Charlotte and Arnaud wished the two of them goodnight. Jane was happy to be out with just Roman. He tipped the valet and led Jane down the paved streets.

She was thankful she had taken a coat. She looped her arm around Roman’s as he led the way; he had a far better idea of where they were than she did. As the moon cast a silver glow over the cobblestone streets of Paris, she couldn’t help but notice the liveliness. Even though it was late, many people were still out and about.

Jane’s dark dress whispered against her ankles as she glanced up at the ornate facades of the buildings, their windows darkened, some lit by a single candle. Roman, tall and composed, occasionally pointed out the elegant details of the architecture, his voice low and warm against the backdrop of the night. The air was cool, filled with the faint scent of baking bread.

They passed the Seine, where the water glimmered like scattered diamonds, and the distant sound of laughter from a tavern mingled with the soft rustle of leaves. Groups of couples rode past them on bicycles.

A flickering lantern illuminated their path, and they paused for a moment, taking in the beauty around them. Jane marveled at how the night transformed Paris into a romantic tableau. As they continued their walk, the distant tolling of church bells marked the hour, a gentle reminder of time slipping away. Jane leaned closer to Roman, comforted by his presence. She had never been so enthralled and present in her environment. Jane had never people-watched or taken time to notice the beauty of London. Where was the time? Was there any beauty? Maybe if she had been happier back then, she could have found it. Roman squeezed her hand gently, grounding her in the present—a habit he had formed when he noticed her mind racing. It still perplexed her how he could tell when her thoughts were elsewhere. Jane perked up and looked at him.

“Don’t I owe you an ice cream?” he asked quietly. It took a moment for it to register before a knowing grin spread across her face.

“Yes, you do. You promised,” she chuckled.

“Well, I don’t break my promises. Let’s hunt you down some ice cream,” he said, pulling her forward as his pace switched to a determined one.

It didn’t take them long to find an ice cream stand. Roman ordered only one and handed it to her in a tiny goblet-like cup. They walked to a bridge overlooking the water. She dug into the treat and spooned it onto her tongue. Her eyes lit up. “Wow! That actually might be the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

“I tried to tell you,” Roman laughed.

“Here,” Jane scooped more onto the spoon and fed him some. He insisted that it was hers only. She didn’t put up a fight.

Roman took her to Sainte-Chapelle, a stunning Gothic chapel with stained glass windows. Even so late at night, it was open to bystanders. Sainte-Chapelle has a striking Gothic presence characterized by its tall, pointed arches, intricate stone carvings, and vibrant blue and gold tiles. The exterior was littered with delicate sculptures and gargoyles. It was an incredibly old building, featuring two distinct levels—an upper chapel and a lower chapel. They walked inside to sit. Nobody was there, which made it deafeningly quiet.

The interior was breathtaking, dominated by stunning stained glass windows that rose to impressive heights. These windows, filled with vivid colors and intricate biblical scenes, created a luminous effect as light filtered through them, even during the night. The ribbed vaults of the ceiling soared above, enhancing the sense of grandeur. The atmosphere was serene and reverent. They slid into the seats.

“Surprised you wanted to come here. I thought you didn’t subscribe to religion ?,” Jane quipped.

“ You are my religion darling”, he quips. Her heart flutters but she hides it when she turns away to look at the large statues in the front of the room.

“I may not always agree with the talking points, but it’s beautiful, is it not?”

Jane nodded. “It is. It never ceases to amaze me how people come together to create these kinds of giants. It must take such a long time. It’s almost hard to believe they made it.”

“Not much can stop a determined man’s hands. Not even heights, apparently,” he retorted.

“Is that what you are? Determined?” Jane jokes.

“I am most urgent,” he hummed. Jane chuckled at that, but not a hint of humor gleamed in his eyes. His dark, toned eyes glossed over her face as he leaned further into the wooden pews of the church.

“What is making your haste?” Jane playfully turned her head back to him.

“You…” he said quietly. His eyes drifted to the muraled ceiling. Jane followed, throwing her head back onto his shoulder to enjoy the view.

“Me?” she echoed. A silent pause surrounded them.

“I had a vision when I went under,” he said. For a moment, his voice wavered. It stunned her. A man who was always so sure of himself and the conviction of his words had lost that command. Jane listened carefully, careful not to throw him off his train of thought.

“When it was black…I was not dead to the world. It was colorful. I saw many things. Revisited many instances. But what stunned me the most was that I saw memories I never had. Memories I was supposed to make…with you,” he whispered. A fragility in his voice wounded her. His words made it evident that this thought had been weighing on him.

“What did you see?” she asked quietly.

“My whole life with you. Me, old and withered. You, with white hair. You as my wife…” he said. Jane stilled, slowly lifting her head from his shoulder to sit up and look at him. His eyes found hers, mirroring her own—stunned and surprised.

“Look…I’m okay if you decline the lordship. But that vision, or dream—whatever you want to call it—instilled a fear in me that I have never known. And that fear is that somehow I’m making a mistake by not giving you a life of dignity. I’m making a mistake by not sharing your last name. I’m making a mistake by not being able to introduce you as my wife. And I can wait no longer. I can’t Jane”, he admits.

Her lip trembled as tears flooded her eyes. It nearly frightened her the way this feeling washed over her. Was it relief? Was it anxiousness? It was both. She hadn’t known how badly she wanted him to ask.

Roman slowly rose from his seat onto one knee. His stature was as tall as hers, even while she sat higher. He reached into his coat and pulled out the bright blue box she had seen days ago. He gently opened it to reveal a silver ring with blue sapphires circling around it. Jane shook as she looked down at it. With a hand over her mouth, she tried to hold back the sob that threatened to escape, but it was useless.

She could see tears glistening in the corners of his eyes. His voice cracked with the fear that she would say no—a fear he likely had already accepted as a possibility before he asked. “Jane Ramalal. Will you be my wife? Will you allow me the honor of carrying your last name?”

“Yes. Yes, I will,” she cried. Roman dove for her mouth like it was the only source of air between them. Her hands clawed at his hair, holding him against her. He pulls away to gently hold her hand. As he slid the ring onto her finger, she hurriedly wiped away her tears.

“It’s heavy,” she giggled, her laugh wet with tears. It was surreal. He wanted her last name of all things. And since he had dropped his own as a form of freedom, she had one to spare. So unorthodox and likely to ruffle many feathers. But wasn’t that their love at its core? Anything but ordinary. She was okay with that. She pulled him in for another hug, seeking the grounding feeling of his chest, scared that the high of this moment would make her float into the ceiling murals.

“I love you,” he whispered into her hair.

“I love you more. And you’re going to be a great Lord. You’re going to help a lot of people, Roman. I just know it. You’ll do great”, she sniffled.

“We are,” he murmured.

She can’t quite remember the walk back to the carriage. The ride back to the Palais was a blur. All she could think about was how grateful she was for another chance at life. She watched the trees pass by from the carriage window. The ride was quiet with the occasional “I love you”. And what more was there to really say?

Roman POV

“Are you going to sleep the day away?” Roman brushed the side of her cheek. They had gotten back very late last night, but now it was well after lunch. Jane rubbed her eyes as he opened the curtains. Streaks of black ran down her face from all the crying she did last night. Her hair was all over her head and smooshed in on one side. “You want help?” Roman asked.

Jane nodded quietly and sat with her back turned in the bed. He slid the pins out of her hair, and she sank her hands into the roots to shake it all loose. He brought her a wet cloth to wipe her face.

She made quick work of a bath, and he sat patiently for her at the foot of the bed, reading a book he had found in the room. She emerged naked and dry, slipped on a chemise, and called for assistance with a corset she had put on over it. She kept her hair down as she cleaned her mouth. It was a slow day at court. Many women hid in their rooms with beauty treatments that would paralyze them until late dinner. Men slept off absinthe-filled nights. There was no rush today.

Charlotte was having tea in the orangery. As soon as Roman walked in, Eloise swarmed him. “Is it true that you are getting married to Lady Jane?!!!”, she yelled.

Her mother groaned. “Too loud, mon petit,” Charlotte rubbed the back of her head. She was obviously hurting from the drinking last night.

“Oui,” Jane bent down to Eloise to show her the ring. Eloise squealed in that pitch only a little girl could manage—shrilly and glass-breaking. Charlotte gasped and rushed over to see as well.

“Congratulations! I told you she would say yes,” Arnaud clapped his hand down onto Roman’s shoulder proudly.

“About bloody time,” Caden called out from behind an orange bush, where he was filling his pockets with oranges.

“Oh, it’s huge! Good job, Roman!” Charlotte gushed as she held Jane’s hand up. They went to sit, and Eloise climbed onto Jane’s lap. Roman could see the humor on her face, considering that the two had had very brief introductions.

“Ummm—can I be your flower girl?”, she begged.

“Well, if it’s alright with your parents,” Jane looked up at Arnaud and Charlotte.

“You have no idea what you’ve just done,” Arnaud joked.

“Eloise loves weddings. She’s been a flower girl many times, and she will not take no for an answer. But if it’s alright with you and Roman,” Charlotte laughed.

“YAY!” Eloise squealed.

“And you’ll be the ring bearer, Caden,” Jane teased.

“No way. That’s for little kids,” Caden scoffed.

“It will probably be something small anyway,” said Jane.

“Well, what certainly won’t be small is the yew ball. Your invitations came today,” Charlotte quipped. Arnaud handed them the folded cards. “Whatever you’ve done has worked. You’re very close to becoming lordship now. The ball will really be the time to impress. My dressmakers are coming over today to fit pieces on you and Eloise. Expect to go all out. People wait all year for this ball.”

“I don’t understand why I would matter so much to someone as powerful as the King. Why all this performance? Why not just give Roman the title?”

“Nobility, in its very nature, is about performance above all else. Even with you two being non-nobles, it must be evident that the two of you are special enough to be bestowed a title. Your looks can get you far here in Paris. There have been enough whispers about you to make him send the invitation directly, despite it being open to the public.”

Jane agreed that she was ready and willing to do what needed to be done in order to get Roman titled. Roman was ready to start their lives outside of Paris. He was ready for a house to call their own and quiet nights with just the two of them. A town to do with as they pleased. A real community. But there was one last show. The Ball.

In unorthodox fashion, Roman stayed for the fittings—test runs for her makeup, test runs for the hair. He stayed for the dancing lessons with Beatrice, the older woman being very thorough and rigid about what was acceptable and what wasn’t. They went over dining etiquette and greetings. The whole thing felt like preparing for war, and by the end of the day, Jane was clearly tired.

Jane came to bed late from how much time she spent preparing. Roman welcomed her with open arms. She climbed onto his chest, allowing him to rest his head on her own.

“Roman,” her sweet voice called out into the dark.

“Mm?”

“You’ll tell me if you get bored, right? Tell me you want to go back to the sea if our new life doesn’t fulfill you. You won’t keep it from me?,” said Jane, her voice fragile and worried.

“Why on earth would I ever get bored so long as the woman of my dreams is by my side? I don’t think I even possess that level of selfishness,” Roman hummed. She could feel the shift of her head indicating that she was looking right at him.

“Our new life won’t have the twists and turns of the sea. There won’t be as much spontaneity.”

“Says who? I can think of several different things we can do to keep the spark.”

“Like what?”

“Jane can’t wear clothes in the house on Fridays,” Roman scoffed. He could nearly hear her eyes roll.

“You would love that, wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t need some grand adventure in the background to love as much as I did the day before. Don’t you and I, of all people, deserve some domesticity? Some normalcy? And what’s more spontaneous than creating the community you and I longed for when we were younger? Making that happen for somebody else who really needs it?”

Jane silently agreed. Roman knew that there wasn’t much he could say to calm her fears about marriage. Truthfully, that’s what this was all about. She feared that their marriage would become mundane and that he would grow bored of it. But Roman wasn’t the type of man to do that, and the only way he could prove it was by never turning into the man she feared. Easy enough.

Jane Pov

In true fashion for the night of the Yew Ball, everyone was running around in a frenzy. Gaston was sweating bullets. Mary wore a look of concentration she’d never seen before. It had taken hours for her to get ready, to the point that Roman and Arnaud had left. The girls would meet them there.

As Jane stood in front of the mirror, she marveled at the way the light danced off the rich fabric of her gown, illuminating the intricate details. The gown, a breathtaking creation in a solid gold color, shimmered like molten sunlight, each layer a testament to the artistry of Parisian couture.

The bodice was cut daringly low, exposing an enticing décolletage, which was a risky choice. The corseted waist was cinched tightly, making the bottom of the dress truly pop. The midsection of the dress was elegant, embroidered with patterns of swirling vines and blossoms in darker gold thread adorning the bodice. The sleeves were extravagant, flaring largely at the forearm, fashioned from sheer silk that flared out at the shoulders before gathering at her wrists, allowing for a playful glimpse of her skin beneath.

Beneath the opulent exterior, the dress cascaded into a voluminous skirt, lined with layers of rich satin that rustled softly with each movement. The hem was embellished with delicate lace. The fabric itself was a masterpiece, woven with threads of gold that caught the light at every angle, creating a mesmerizing effect that was nothing short of breathtaking.

To complete the ensemble, Jane paired the dress with a stunning diamond and gold choker that sparkled like stars against her skin, while a matching necklace draped elegantly over her collarbone. Her ears sparkled with dangling gold and diamond earrings that caught the light with every turn of her head.

Gaston decided that his impromptu kajal eye makeup was old news. He created his own gold-flecked eye shimmer. It was thick and extremely pigmented. He applied it with a gentle hand onto her eyes and added it generously to the front of her hairline. He kept her lashes dark and her lips and cheeks a soft, subtle pink. At the very last minute, he began to lightly dust her entire face, arms, neck, and chest in a sheer gold shimmer.

With hours of heat styling, it took Mary time to get Jane's hair just right. She gently twisted and wrapped Jane's natural curls around the heated rods, creating loose spirals that would later form the base of her lower transitional pouf. The pouf would rise high above her shoulders, showcasing her graceful neck, with a long framing curl that would fall down her back.

Once the curls had set, Mary carefully unwrapped the rods, revealing bouncy, voluminous spirals. With expert precision, Mary began to sculpt the pouf, gathering the curls at the back and securing them with delicate pins. The height of the hair was a status symbol, and tonight they went big, adding a few inches to Jane’s stature.

As the final touches were made, Jane’s hair was decorated with accessories: a few sparkling hair pins shaped like delicate blossoms, glinting softly in the light, and a sheer ribbon woven throughout the curls, cascading gracefully down one side. A small cluster of gold-painted feathers was tucked artfully into the pouf, adding a touch of whimsy and sophistication.

Most striking of all was the solid gold masquerade mask she held delicately in her hands. Its elaborate filigree design matched the gown perfectly, promising an air of mystery and importance the moment she stepped foot in the palace. With each detail carefully considered, she knew that tonight was not only about her. This was about all the people who came together to make this night possible for her: the designers, the makeup artists, the hairdressers, the shoemakers. All the people who used their creativity to make the elite look their best. These events created revenue for them, and despite her not wanting to go, she could at least bring attention to those who helped her.

Charlotte burst into her room with Eloise in hand, gasping at the sight of her. “You look amazing! You look like the gold sculptures of Versailles!”

“You two look incredible,” Jane laughed as Eloise twirled like a ballerina, showing off her dress. Charlotte wore a blue dress with puffy shoulders and a huge skirt that jutted out on the sides. Pearls and diamonds littered her skin, accentuating her eyes. Eloise looked like a princess in her pink fluffy dress, her hair twisted into a crown.

“Everyone is going to love my dress. I’m the best dressed,” Eloise sighed confidently. Charlotte and Jane burst into laughter. Eloise’s confidence knew no bounds, but Charlotte would never take that away from her—especially knowing that she would only experience about three hours of the party before it became adults-only.

“You’re absolutely right, mon chér,” Charlotte kissed the top of her head.

“We're already behind schedule. Let’s go now before they start dancing,” Charlotte said, grabbing Eloise’s hand, and the trio rushed for the door. Caden was already waiting in the carriage.

A wide-set carriage would have to do, given how big their dresses were. Even so, Caden was squished against the window, talking about how he refused to ride back with the rest of them. Eloise just laughed and teased him for the entire hour.

Roman Pov

“If she does not arrive within the next few minutes, I’m going to go look for her.” Roman anxiously sipped his brandy. The mask was rubbing against his face so uncomfortably that he nearly tore it off. The room was muggy, and the alcohol likely didn’t help. A good portion of the people in this room hated his guts. Some of their friends had met unfortunate ends by his hand. Those early days of running rampant around Europe, committing crimes would leave a lasting stain on how he was perceived. He didn’t care for forgiveness, but he knew that Jane’s reputation was in a fragile spot. Tonight, she must do well.

The parties of real nobility were where the true monsters resided. They did not care to hide their prejudices. Arnaud’s court was more tolerant and open-minded. However, these people were a different breed. They did not often brush shoulders with outsiders. They believed in a “natural order” and made it known. He would do his best to dodge those conversations.

“You forget how heavy those dresses are. It takes them ten minutes just to get downstairs to the carriages, and then even more time to get out. You’re anxious. Relax. She’s done this before,” said Arnaud. He always had the same laid-back disposition. Roman used to have it too, once upon a time. Then he met Jane, and the stakes were higher.

“I’m not anxious,” Roman scoffed.

“You’ve adjusted your tie about twenty times since you’ve been here—standing at the bottom of the stairs. You know these environments like the back of your hand. It will be what it will be,” Arnaud sighed.

“If I hear one thing that I don’t like, I might start flipping tables over, Arnaud. I mean it,” Roman warned, an edge to his voice that sounded more pirate than gentleman.

“You will do no such thing. There is too much at stake. You underestimate her,” Arnaud chuckled.

“I do not.”

Arnaud rolled his eyes. “You do. She’s a smart girl. I’ve seen her work her charm. The Parisians love charm. Now if you don’t relax, I’ll have to give you something stronger.”

Roman cursed under his breath as he adjusted his tie one more time. This event was open to the public, but direct invitees wore masquerade masks. This alone drew a line in the sand of who was important and who wasn’t. It also dictated who was invited to dinner and who wasn’t.

A commotion stirred at the top of the steps, and a wooden staff echoed across the room. Someone was coming.

“The Duchess of Orleans, Charlotte Du Pointe, and her lady daughter, Eloise Du Pointe!” the announcer projected across the room. Charlotte appeared at the top of the steps with her daughter Eloise. Their masks glistened against the soft lights of the room, matching their dresses.

Their dresses were big and bright: Charlotte in cotton candy blue and Eloise in light pink. Eloise had a big smile on her face as she yanked her hand from her mother’s hold. “HIII, everybody!!!” she yelled, waving to the room. The guests chortled, chuckled, and swooned at the little girl as a guard escorted her down the stairs in a hurry. She was still at that age where everyone looked at her with adoration and humor. Charlotte softly giggled instead of reprimanding her daughter, a clear indicator of her humble background. She allowed Eloise to be a child. Eloise, still fearless about the world and the people in it, immediately ran to Arnaud and buried her face in his knees.

“Papa, do you like my dress?!” she giggled. Arnaud picked her up with nothing short of pride in his eyes as he complimented the beauty of his daughter. His wife appeared poised and graceful by his side. He kissed her cheek. For a moment, the former pirate forgot what was at stake as Arnaud became enraptured with his family.

Three more clicks of a wooden staff, and the announcer cleared his throat. The room paused, chatter fading as always, ready to cast judgment, ready to gawk and gossip. The minute a glimpse of gold peeked over the stairs, the room fell from quiet to dead silent. “Mademoiselle Jane of London and Monsieur Caden of Grimsby!”

Jane, glimmering, golden, and shiny like stardust, stepped into everyone’s line of view at the top of the stairs, Caden by her side, a helpful arm for her to hold onto. Everything about her defied the rules of court, yet everything about her drew the crowd in. That gold on her, the way her skin absorbed it and then shot it back around the room like a source of light. Her body shimmered with it. Her mask, completely solid gold to match. The cut of the dress, her jewelry—her first step down the stairs set off an echo of gasps everywhere. The crowd inched forward slightly, each shift of her dress and click of her heel bouncing off the waxed marble floor, alerting everyone to her presence. Jane was a vision, a statue come to life.

As she made her way slowly down the stairs, Roman could hear the shock, the whispers, and murmurs.

“Provocante!” (Provocative)

“L’audace!” (The audacity)

“Audacieuse!” (Bold)

As she inched closer, the details of her beauty stood out against all others. She parted the room with each step. The murmurs grew louder as she stepped onto the main floor. Roman was there to greet her with a kiss to the back of her hand. He pulled her by the waist into his chest, her hands gently placed on his. Her sparkling eyes met his gaze, not an inkling of shyness in them.She had changed from when they first met. This was her final form. Or rather—her true one.

“You are absolutely stunning. I would ask you to marry me again, but I already did,” Roman sighed. To say that he was mesmerized would be an understatement. She laughed and raised herself on the tips of her toes to meet his kiss.

“Well, ask again if you must, but my answer will probably be yes, just so you know,” she smiled. She pulled away to look at his outfit. “You look absolutely amazing. They did such a good job matching us.”

“It was a nightmare letting them dress me. The stylist had to stand on a stool to put on my shirt. I’ll be glad to leave this place,” Roman complained.

“Not too fast. You owe me the night,” she purred.

“Do I? I don’t remember making any promises, but with how you look right now, I’m inclined to comply.”

“If you know what’s good for you,” she smirked.

They went to get a drink at the refreshment table. She kept complimenting his suit.

He wore a tailored deep black coat with a sumptuous finish that caught the light, fitted at the waist and flaring slightly at the hips. Beneath it, a crisp white linen shirt had billowing sleeves and a high ruffled collar. His black waistcoat featured intricate gold embroidery, complementing Jane's attire. The perfectly tailored trousers tapered at the ankles, revealing polished black leather shoes. He completed the look with a soft ivory silk cravat fastened by a delicate gold pin and a black masquerade mask adorned with a single feather, like Jane's.

Roman looked around the room at the glares directed at his fiancée. He noticed something quite particular: many of the women had teased, curly hair, clearly manipulated by heat to the point of frizz. They wore dark eye makeup and dark gowns. This style was not popular in the French court; women typically opted for bright colors. Dark colors were seen as too mature or even suggestive. So to see so many women in dark reds, greens, blacks, and blues was almost jarring.

That’s when he realized that Jane had become a bit of a muse. There would never be an admission as to who they were imitating. The thought nearly made him burst into laughter. And now she was wearing a color that was hard to produce: a pure gold dress—true to the color. Another peculiar choice for French society. Jane had left her mark.

“When is the food coming?” Caden interrupted, startling Jane as she forgot he was hovering around.

“Is that all you think about?” Roman laughed.

“I’m a growing boy. Ooo—hors d’oeuvres!” Caden trailed off, following one of the servers holding a tray of snacks.

After the arrival of guests, the opening ceremony started. The royal family was introduced with a live orchestra performance. After the opening ceremony, balls like these had a specific order: the first dance, dinner, special performances, more dancing, closing festivities, and departure. This would be a long night.

There would be no first dance without the King and Queen participating first. He pulled his much younger wife onto the dance floor. She wore a pristine all-white gown. Everything she wore was white, including her hair and the whites of her eyes. The King tried his best to match her, but the blueness of his veins stood out against the absence of color. Everything was so manufactured between the two of them, even down to the smiles they gave one another—a pretending love. A love that never was.

Everybody in this room should want to be them, to want what they had: as many children, as much money, as much power as they did. Roman looked at Jane as she watched the two of them, her expression indifferent but calm. He was standing next to the sun. He had something more valuable than what any monarchy could provide. A true love, an undefiled, uncultivated love. A love that money couldn’t buy. She caught his gaze. He held his hand out to her, and she took it without hesitation as they walked to join the dancing couple along with Arnaud and Charlotte.

The minuet, a slow and graceful dance characterized by its elegant movements and intricate footwork, was typically danced in 3/4 time. It involved a series of steps that included gliding movements, turns, and the signature minuet pose, where dancers would often bow or curtsy.

The most intimate part of the dance was when the couple circled each other, with one hand pressed against the other in the air. He always found the dance a bit silly, but not this time. Jane’s natural grace added beauty to the dance. The staring eventually got to her, and she decided she was ready to sit down. Soon after the first dance came dinner—a whole other beast.

Dinner was all about the King flexing his power over others. High-ranking nobles sat elevated in the center of the room. Anyone below the Duke and Duchess sat on the outskirts. Low-ranking nobles stood to eat. Special guests also stood to eat. The whole ordeal would have been unforgivable if not for the delicious food: stuffed lamb, roasted duck, Canard aux Cerises, Boeuf à la Mode, Poisson à la Sauce Duxelles, Soupe aux Choux, canapés, tarts, artisan breads dipped in butter, roasted vegetables of all kinds, fish, mussels, clams, oysters, lobster, mince pies, potato pies, quiches, mousse, cream, pastries of every variety, candied fruits with crackly coatings, marzipan. The list went on and on and on. Jane whispered to him how she’d rather eat alone with a spread like this, which made him laugh. Back on the ship, there were no manners besides keeping your food and hands to yourself. He’d seen her bite into the side of a chuck roast like a lion. He wasn’t much for manners himself; he found table manners taunting in a way. Food had to be eaten in a certain order with a certain utensil. Thankfully, with them placed on the outskirts of the room, there was nobody to witness him eat his slice of ham quiche in one singular bite, except for Jane of course. She had to swallow her food before she choked from laughing.

Nobles used toasts to shine the spotlight on their eloquence and wit—always circling back to the King and Queen. There had been five toasts that night, and soon it became rather pathetic. In the distance, Charlotte had to cover her mouth with a fan after the viscount stood to give a speech about France being the most powerful country and how good looking the King was— or something of the sort.

After dinner, there were performances. Ballet dancers entranced the crowd with their grace. A very young violinist by the name of Joseph Bologne stunned the crowd with his musicality, making his instrument create sounds beyond comprehension. Jane was particularly amazed by him. English circus performers showcased impressive skills, such as acrobatics, juggling, and contortion. They performed daring feats, captivating the audience with their physical abilities. Fire-breathing got the crowd rowdy and lively.

Magicians and illusionists interacted with the crowd, pulling doves from scarves and rabbits from hats. The performances were wrapped with plate-spinning dancers from Shanghai, who spun porcelain plates on ridiculously long sticks and walked on stilts, doing difficult stunts and synchronized dancing in colorful outfits with elaborate makeup.

More dancing ensued, this time with livelier dances like the gavotte. Dessert wines like Sauternes flowed as people became looser. Children were sent off to bed while the adults enjoyed the rest of the festivities. Parlor games were played during the intermission, like charades. Roman enjoyed a few rounds of the card game baccarat with Arnaud in a private salon near the ballroom, savoring a few smokes.

Jane was having a good time, and he was in no rush to ruin the fun. She had finally realized why they called Charlotte the life of the party. The two danced and drank repeatedly as the crowd became increasingly intoxicated. A fireworks show ended the night as the crowd slowly dissipated over the next few hours. With the King and Queen retiring to bed, there was no need to impress. People took champagne bottles for themselves. Roman had to search the room just to find Jane and Charlotte near the balcony, sharing a bottle of wine and grapes.

“Have you gotten it out of your system?” Roman stood a few feet away, watching the pair as they draped over each other.

“Just wait until the wedding,” Charlotte snickered.

“SMALL wedding,” Jane laughed. She reached her arms out for Roman, and he picked her up onto her feet. Arnaud was on his way to his wife, who was entering a zone of drunkenness that was inappropriate for court. But with most of the nobles gone, nobody really cared now. Jane was flirty, more handsy than usual. She had a light buzz but still had her wits about her.

“Did you have fun?” he whispered to her as he picked her up bridal style. She took the opportunity to kick off her heels and carry them.

Caden would stay the night along with Arnaud, Charlotte, and Eloise. Charlotte promised him a Versailles breakfast, and the young lad agreed—a bit drunk himself and cycling through sleep on one of the chairs near the dance floor.

“After everybody got drunk, absolutely. I danced circles around those old farts with Charlotte. Now my feet hurt,” Jane sighed.

“We can get you into a hot bath to help those feet, and you can tell me all about your night.”

“My night? What about your night? Did you like any of it?”

Roman set her down inside the carriage and stepped in foot first. “Maybe the food. I also won a gambling match with one of the viscounts from Italy. I won his gold watch. The old bloke was fuming.”

“Gambling? You really are a pirate, aren’t you?” Jane snickered.

The carriage dashed into the night with the horses rested and ready to sprint. Jane was already ripping at a piece of her costume and throwing it on the floor of the cart.

“This thing is so hot,” she grunted.

“It’s the wine. It’s a chilly night.

“ Help me take it off”, she whined. Roman obliged and loosened her corset for her.

“ Nono…I just need the skirt cage off “, she pleads.

“ I…I have to go under your dress and I can barely see anything.”

She rolls her eyes. “ What are you…scared something’s going to jump out and bite you? It’s not like you haven’t visited down there before. I don’t have an extra set of teeth—I promise.”

Roman chuckled at her bluntness. “ I don’t want to mess up such a beautiful dress. You know the stylists are really fickle about how you take off the dress. I could break something”

“ Roman. Take off the fucking cage.”

Taken aback by her tone he dives right into action and drops to his knees. “ Yes ma’am.”

On the floor, he pops under the skirt of her dress and feels along her skin. The smooth silk of her flesh is almost enough for him to forget the task until her hips wiggle when he stalls. She really wants it off. He feels up and over her hips where the buttons securing the contraption are held together. He blindly tugs and pulls away at the fabric until something snaps.

“ You got it”, her voice calls out in a dramatic hopeful tone. He backs away with the cage in his hands, pulling it from under her. The bottom of the dress deflates.

“ I mean I found something hard and smooth so I figured it had to be it.”

“ I knew you’d find it. You’re notoriously good at finding buttons. You may be the only man in Europe who actually can ”, she jokes suggestively. Roman chuckled quietly as he sat on his knees on the carriage floor. Her cage sat next to her and the clicking of horse hooves seemed to fill in the gaps of silence. Jane’s smile melts into something more assertive, more sultry.

With great attention to her expression, he testfully grabs onto one of her ankles and brings it to the side of his face, sniffing it before resting it on his shoulder

“ Did you put perfume here ?” He asks quietly. His voice swells with a daring tone. A hidden question really. Is he reading her correctly?

“ Yes”, she says in a quiet tone. A small smirk spreads on her painted lips.

“ Now, Why on earth would you do that?”, he tests.

“ Well it got your attention didn’t it ?”, she quips. A cheeky edge to her words. Her eyes— a challenge.

He says nothing, only takes the same leg on his shoulder and trails his fingers down the side of it in a slow manner. His eyes remain planted on her as he draws swirls up into her inner thigh. Her breath is slightly labored, the rise and fall of her breasts noticeable from the way the corset fabric sparkled in the low light.

Large and calloused hands massage her inner thigh. He can feel her muscles tense and release under his touch. He brushed the other thigh with the tips of his fingers, starting the process over and again. Working and winding her up as he watched her fingers dig into the cushion of the seat underneath her.

Slowly, he pulls down her undergarments and flings them behind him. The heat radiating from her skin met it’s peak here. She parts her legs further, a beckoning. An invitation to come closer.

His hand meet soft, wet, warm skin. He groans despite knowing it would be there. How could it not? It had been weeks since he last touched her. They had been busy and coming down on the high of finding the treasure. She was sopping. A true testament to how much her body missed him. They both groaned audibly when his thumb pressed that spot where she needed him most. She melts into his seat, head lulling back as she moans against each wet sweep of his thumb.

“ Were you like this…all night ?”

“ Yes”, she whines. Shifting in her seat, he closes the space between them until her butt is nearly touching his torso. Both of her legs rest on his shoulders as he firmly rubs her in circular motions.

“ Tell me…”

“ T-Tell you what?”, she stutters

“ What thought led to what I’m feeling underneath my fingertips right now”, he gruffs.

“ F-Fear”, she sighed breathlessly.

“ Of what?”

“ Fear that when you make me cum..it won’t be enough. It won’t be enough until I have all of you.”

“ You have me”, he urges.

“ Not in every way”, she gasped as his fingers speed up on her clit. It didn’t take much with her. Not with his skill.

“ Speak”, he commands. And he’s sure it feels like being doused in cold water with the way she jerks at the sound. Especially when all she wants to do is sink into the sofa and melt away. But now his breath was labored—heart racing as he anticipated the sound she would make.

“ I Need Your C— ,” and her sentence is cut short with an abrupt squeak as she cums against his fingers. He presses and rubs until her writhing stops . A restlessness still prevalent even after she’s gotten her fix.

“ You finish that sentence”, he leans in to kiss the sides of her neck as his hands trail up and down the sides of her. She’s hazy from the orgasm.

Shyly.. she continues in another way. “ What you’ve given me all this time. It was enough then…but not anymore”, she pants.

Roman needed no other explanation and he dare not make her second guess. Instead he sits back and pulls her to a straddle on top of him. She grabs his face and kisses him. The smokiness of his mouth makes her rut into his crotch feverently, nearly making him release into his pants. He has to stop her prematurely.

Kissing, tugging, pulling, gripping. The surprising sting of a bite to his chest. The tearing of fabric they’ll regret later. The panting across exposed skin. The drag of nails scraping across heated flesh. She made a mess of him to match her own. A whole hour swallowed by the lust of two.

When the carriage screeched to a stop they both paused to assess the damage. Roman’s top was destroyed. He noticed the way she glanced at her hands—likely wondering how she possessed the strength. He threw his coat over her shoulders as the help escorted them back up to their bedroom.

“ Hot water in the tub Joffrey”, he calls to the butler already waiting at the door.

Three servants take turns walking in and out the room to fill the tub awaiting in the other room. Jane watches quietly as she grips the oversized jacket around her. Her lips are swollen from him. Her biting the corners doesn't make it any better. It doesn’t make this any easier. Doesn’t give him any more composure .

Jane Pov

“ Will my bath slow the momentum ?”, she asks quietly. She doesn’t want the maids to hear.

“ Have I not proven my patience by now?”

“ Is it wrong to ask? Have you noticed you’re about to rip out of your pants?” Roman frowns at her in confusion. Her eyes trail down to his sizeable erection that jutted from his black dress trousers. His eyes meet it with surprise as if he forgot. So used to ignoring his body in respect of her boundaries. In respect of her limits.

“ I’ll take my bath cold…in the other room ”, he calls out to the servants in the bathroom.

With a kiss to her forehead, he leaves behind the servants. Maybe some distance would be for the best. The bath would give her time to think. The scented oils relaxed her but she still felt so empty. The desire to be filled, something foreign to her until now.

She took her hair down in the tub and pinned it up again, less uniform, uncaring if some strands got wet. She scrubbed her skin with something scented. She made quick work of it.

She dried off, creamed her skin, and took off her jewelry. She kept thinking about what to wear. What do people usually wear? Well …nothing by the end of it she supposed. But how to entice ? She knew nothing about seduction. So maybe nothing could be something ? She wiped the color from her lips from her mouth. No time to get rid of the eyes. She found a thick hair ribbon, she wrapped it around her neck and tied it into a bow. The dress that the maids brought up in pieces included the stockings that she rolled up her thighs. A once over in the mirror and she felt it was enough. Courtesan in a way.

She draped herself in her robe and waited. She didn’t send for him. He would come back when he was ready. It didn’t take long thankfully. She could hear him send away the butler for the night from behind the door. Her hands sweat as the doorknob turns.

He stands in the hallway. Brooding and wide, like when they first met. His hair wet and his skin coated with a light mist from his bath. No shirt, loose fitting cotton trousers. Every tattoo is even bolder than she remembered. His eyes were hungry but controlled as always. She stands carefully as he turns to close the door and lock it . By the time he turns back around she’s quickly slipped off her robe. He freezes in place, eyes darkening even in the light.

He doesn’t move to grab her. No throwing her down on the bed. Instead, he slowly walks over to the table at the far end of the room. A fire crackles next to it. He sits down at the chair, legs spread wide. He motions his finger for her. A quiet “stand in front of me”. Being gawked at all night did nothing for her. It didn’t move her. But under his gaze…she could barely take it. Hesitantly, she makes her way to him.

For a moment she’s stunned—nearly losing the steam to do this. To be this courageous, sexy, brave woman who takes charge. But when he finally speaks it’s simple. “Take down all your hair. Please”, he says. An authority in his voice, controlled, quiet. She reaches for her hair pins and lets her tresses down, loosening the curls with a shake of her hand. “ Perfect”, he whispers.

Going with her gut, instead of stepping closer she gets on her knees. Intrigued, his gaze tracked her movements as she began to crawl to him slowly. One hand extending out behind the other carefully and methodically. She reaches his knees and places her hands on the both of them. That cold bath did nothing for him clearly. His erection was jutting out of his pants like a sword.

“ Are sure ?”, he asks. She doesn’t answer, only slides her hands up his chest reassuringly. This is the man she loved. The man she was going to marry. This was safe. He was safe. He’d proven that long ago. She united the strings holding his cotton trousers. He lifted up when she pulled them down. His erection sprung out and hit his stomach.

She seized it in her hands and felt the pulse of him around his fingers. Roman had time to learn her. He studied the way she liked to be licked. The way he wanted his mouth slated against her cunt. The speed of his tongue. He knew how to make her fall apart in seconds. She had not learned him. Never tasted him in her mouth. Never felt the beat of his pulse on her tongue. She wanted to do this well.

His girth has always been impressive but not painfully thick. With time she could take the stretch of him without thought. His length, however, was a whole other feat. How on earth would all of it fit? She cut those thoughts off before she chickened out.

At least it was beautiful. Lengthy, curved upwards, a fleshy pink tip, dusky shaded skin, chiseled in thick veins, a heavy sack. Pearls of arousal glisten at the top of him. She swipes away at it with her tongue. He’s completely still, watching her closely, waiting for her to back out. But the alarms weren’t ringing yet. She needed to give him what he gave her. Or at least try her best to do so.

Boldly, she wrapped her lips around the head of him and looked up at him through her lashes. He’s biting his fist. She gives him kitten licks. He takes a deep inhale and grabs the arms of his chair with a vibe grip. She pulls back and softly strokes him with both hands.

“ I’ve never done this because I wanted to until now. So you’re going to have to tell me what you want. What you like and what you don’t”, she says quietly.

“ Well, you’ve got the first step down. You put your mouth around me. Don’t stop on my account”, he grunts. Jane resumes, taking him into her mouth.

“ Use your hands where your mouth can’t reach”, he says. A shaky edge to his tone. She listens, using the spit that rolled down his shaft beneath her hands.

She’s timid, careful not to hurt him. Not to squeeze him too hard. He’s so big that if she goes too far she gags a bit. That didn’t scare her knowing that she controlled the pace. The sound of him grunting was a motivator. Everytime she pressed her mouth further down his shaft, not only would her eyes water but her mouth would too. Her hands were drenched. She pulled away to get something to clean some of the mess up. He gently stops her.

“ You’re doing it perfectly, leave it ”, he says. His composure slipping through a clenched jaw. He didn’t want to cum but she sumized it would be easy to get him back up if he did.

So she goes back for more, inching further and further down his shaft. She made a proper mess of herself. She destroyed her eye makeup. Her nose was running, her mouth was watering like a spigot. He holds her hair for her but he keeps his hands clear from the back of her head.

She sort of liked the mess. The sound of her working him in her mouth, the choking, the sniffling, the sounds of his groans whenever her hand drifts to his sack. The sound he bit back when she massaged them. It was easy to get enthusiastic when she felt his composure slipping from him. When his groans turned into audible sighs when she sucked his head harder.

She pulls away to catch her breath, panting from the exertion of it. In some strange way she felt powerful. Which was funny considering that she was the one on her knees. But maybe it was the reassurance that she could please him successfully. That she was capable of giving back what she had received for so long.

“ Spit on it.”

“ spit on it ?”, She echoes.

“ Like it just pissed you off”, he dares.

Jane nearly laughs but he was clearly serious. And so she does. His hips shift as she works her hand over him before doing it again and licking it up. That earns a full out moan. She bobs up and down the length of him, getting as much in and she could comfortably allow. Bubbles form at the sides of her mouth. She wraps her mouth just around the engorged head and sucks firmly.

Instead of stroking him up and down she began to gently twist with each pump of her fist as her mouth suctioned around the head of him. Then ever so often she would twist her mouth as she came up. Roman, once so stoic and controlled, was hissing in agreement with her new found technique. The praise sent waves of arousal tingling on her breast, her cunt, and deep in her stomach.

“ God dammit…just like that. What a good girl you are. Are you my good girl ?”, he cooes.

“ —-Glaahhjksmm!—”, she talks around his cock as she pushes against the barrier of her reflex. Spit froths and flows as she gathers it around his sack and massages it in time with her strokes. A full on moan wrecks his throat from the vibration on her mouth. His eyes danced around the room and his head falls back.

And just as she’d been taught, she sucked it all up and spat it right back onto the head of his cock. A gut punching sounding groan falls from his lips. This time, instead of sucking, she begins blowing air around the cock in her mouth, gargling and gurgling against his skin as she pushed down down down down. His hips twist and bend. “ Alrightalrightaright wait... Fuuckkk. Stop”, he stutters. She pulls away quickly.

“ Did I knick you?” She panics.

“ No. But this will be over before it starts if you keep going dove. Fucking hell….”, he chuckles. She can see his brow broke out in the sweat earlier. She looks down at her hands. Her chin is drenched. Her makeup is sliding down her cheeks.

“ Maybe I should get cleaned up first”, she giggles. Roman looks at her, eyes full of admiration like they were when she came down the steps. To her shock he grabs her and kisses her, tongue and all. When he pulled away it stunned her.

“ Enjoy the taste ? ”, she chuckles .

“ I should ask you the same”, he teases. He disappears into the bathroom and comes back with a wet cotton rag, helping her to clean up her hands and mouth.

He places the rag on the table and abruptly picks her up. She squeals in surprise, wrapping her legs around waist.

Her back hits the bed. He climbs on it, going straight for her legs. Slowly, he peels her stockings off with his teeth. He’s sure to nip her ankles and the inside of her thigh. His beard a welcome sensory against the sensitivity of her skin.

He makes no introduction, only an immediate shot for her clit. He sucks her into his mouth and watches her thrash against him. Immediately sending her into sensory overload.

He laps at her with the tip of his tongue before running it over the entirety of her cunt. Pressing his entire mouth on it and sliding his lips across it like an open kiss. She can already feel her peak approaching as he hooks his arms under her thighs and pulls her closer. Her hands reach for his hair and tug aimlessly.

He makes a show of it, growling into her. Thumbing at her breasts. She’s about to cum already. Almost embarrassingly soon. But he had learned her for months now, an advantage that he took happily.

“ Are you in a rush?”, she whimpered.

“ I’m in no rush, your body on the other hand seems to be”, he mumbled against her skin. She fell apart on his mouth, back bowing against the bed. He left her no room to pull away, no room for reprieve as he sucked her through her orgasm and after. He made no move to pause until she cried out into the room, shouting expletives that were half gibberish.

He went back for more. She nearly protests this until she realizes just what she was up against. This generous foreplay wasn’t just for his pleasure or her own. It was to prepare her. She fought past the overstimulation and held herself to the mattress as he started all over again.

But Roman would take and take and take. What she would allow he would take for his own. For these matters he had no mercy. Enough was never enough. He would drink and never be full. With her second climax she dug her feet into his back, trembling against the intensity of it. That familiar haze washes over her, making her brain all muggy . Bringing a tingle to her lips and feet.

“ I know you have one more”, he rumbled against the side of her thigh.

“ Mmpphhmm”, she groans.

When his tongue dragged against her clit she flinched. His hands snaked around her waist as he swung his face in a nodding motion against her, lazily swiping his tongue up and down the entirety of her. Each pass, more sensitive than the other. His large hands rest at the bottom of her belly, pressing down each time her back tried to depart the bed. A reminder that she wasn’t going anywhere until she gave him exactly what he wanted.

Teasingly, the tip of his tongue would swirl around her clit, purposely missing where she wanted him most. Her hips followed his mouth, swirling and bucking towards him as pulled away further. His licks turned to gentle flicks, a glint of playfulness in his eyes as he watched her grow increasingly impatient. Suddenly, so responsive after claiming to be too sensitive.

“ Come on baby, right there”, she grabbed the backs of his hair with her fist and brought him to where she needed him. Still testing her patience, he kissed her skin gently instead. She threw her head back as she tried to push herself toward him.

“ Please …please”, she moaned.

And with that, he enclosed his mouth around her nerves and sucked hard. Instantly, she gasped as he punished her with fast hard licks, pressed firmly against her skin.

“ AAAH!!”, she cried. She came harshly against his mouth, throbbing against each pass of his tongue. He made her ride out her climax until the bitter end. Twitching—she pushed his forehead. He pulls away, kissing up stomach. He sucks bruises into her skin. The suction of his mouth pulls her nipples to pebbles, electrifying a path down her stomach.

“ Aren’t you going to unwrap me? I’m not fully undressed until you do”, she pants. She was tired from those series of mini climaxes that he inflicted upon her. She can feel the rumble from his chuckle vibrate against her chest. He kisses a path back up her chest. The scrape of his beard tickles her neck and he unties it with his mouth. His fingers reach down between her legs to feel her arousal.

Her heart races as he pulls her closer, adjusting his position between her legs. Involuntarily she stiffens. His fingers feel it along her muscles. He stops immediately to assess. “ Where are you right now ? Where did you go ?”

She blinks a few times before she answers. “ Habit. I’m sorry.”

“ Any moment. Even seconds from now or minutes or an hour from now. You can tell me to stop. We can start again when you want. We can try again on a different night. It’s your choice.” He grabs her face in his, his forehead against her own.

“ I know. I know, I want this now. I'm just anxious.”

“ It doesn't have to be perfect Jane," he says quietly. A thoughtful look spreads across his face. She had an idea in her head of what this would be. She would be responsive, she would look perfect, be perfect. But there was no audience. There was nothing to prove. This was for them and nobody else.

She nods quietly and reaches for him. She needed him close to drown out the panic and the noise. To feel his breath in her face, his warmth. He leans down, elbows on either side of her face. With one hand he reaches down and graces his fingers across her cunt, spreading around her arousal. When she relaxes he pushes in one finger. A small gasp leaves her lip but her composure remains.

He asks. “ Okay?”

“ Okay”, she nods.

He pumps it in slowly back and forth, gently sawing with the pressure. Roman is watchful, nearly nose to nose with her as he tests her. A second finger and she groans from the sensation. Her body could tell how long it’s been for her. She's pulsing around his digits as she involuntarily sucks him in. No pleasure was present quite yet. But that was to be expected. For now her focus was only on trying to stay calm.

“ I’ll let you. I’ll let you…”, she whispers to him. Her voice so fragile—in this moment she felt like she was made of glass. He felt it too. He stares at her for a moment, unsure if she’s sure. She nods silently. His fingers pull away and his right arm returns to the side of her head.

He uses his other hand, reaching in between them to center himself with her opening. Then she feels it, that pressure, the stretch. Her eyes widen as he surges forward gently. Jane’s hands fly to his shoulders as she feels a sound creeping up from behind her lips.

Determined to distract her, he grabs her face with soft hands. “ Hey…relax. Relax. Where are you right now? Are you with me ?”, he asks gently.

“ Yes I’m…yes I’m with yo—”, she loses control of her breathing as the air leaves her . She can feel all of him now. He’s sheathed inside of her and the fit is snug.

“ Am I causing you pain?”

“ No…yes…I mean no..I don’t fucking know”, she sputtered. The sensation was overwhelming. To be so filled, so stuffed. To feel the heat of him inside her. The tight fit despite her being the wettest she’s ever been……” You’re just so…big”, she sighed.

“ Your body will get used to it the more I move. We can try another—.”

“ NO …no, just give me a second”, she urged. So instead his mouth found hers as he waited for her body to relax. She was squeezing him so tight he wondered if he’d actually be able to move at all. Sly fingers slip back between them to swipe at her clit. Another wave of arousal seeps around him. He shudders from it. She sucks his tongue. He nips the side of her jaw.

“ Slowly…”, she rasps against his mouth. She can hear a decompressing sigh from him as his muscles shift and he pulls out and in, slowly. Methodically. The drag of him against her walls, his veins, his heat. Foreign, too foreign to derive pleasure so soon. Yet too comforting to hate.

She looked between them as he lifts up slightly, getting a full view of the way he appears and then disappears—coming out gleaming in her arousal. It was her body doing that. It was her body capable of that. It took a moment to register.

“ You’re still far away”, he pants. His composure bending against the pressure of his arousal. His tone swollen with need -velvety and full.

“ Maybe I’m just broken down there. I’m not exactly the type to finish during these endeavors”, she mutters. He doesn’t like that at all. She can tell by the way he tucks in his lips. He pauses for a moment, as he sits back on the heels of his feet. The head of him is just barely tucked into her body.

“ That wasn’t sex”, he says firmly. “ but this is…and it’s a head game. I mean your brain doesn’t even realize how close you are. I can feel it Jane”, he looked down at where they connect. His thumb rolls over her clit as he feels her contract around him. “How about this”. Roman searches the bed for the ribbon he pulled off her and holds it above her face. “ I’m going to put this over your eyes and we’ll see just how much you “don’t work”. With nothing to distract you, you have no choice but to feel”, he explains. Jane looks at the red ribbon. Who would have thought she’d be wearing it as an eye cover.

“ Okay”, she says. He placed the ribbon over her eyes, wrapping it twice around her head. Her fingers press gently against the silk when he’s finished.

Then he’s inside again. Behind the blackness of her lids, she imagines what it looks like. But with her mind racing and her sight missing, the feeling of him inside her is even more prominent. It quiets the noise of her mind as she listens to the soft grunts that escape him as he presses into her. Every little moan that leaves him raises the stakes of her arousal. She can hear how wet she is now and so can he. Her hands seek the wrists he balanced himself on. They wrap around them, feeling the veins in his skin. She can’t even enclose her fist around it. He was just that big. And strangely enough, that thought grew and grew into something more. A naughty thought that ignited all the other hidden ones.

His thrusts change and with a pass of his hips, they thrust upward and press. He brushes up against something startling. Again and again. Each pass becoming more and more sensitive. Her body learns to become reactive to his touch. The pleasure sneaks up on her and wraps itself around her like a thick smoke, clogging her mind. She envisions it as it invades her, fully claiming her. It arrives and her mouth wrenches open in a long, aching, desperate moan.

Encouraging murmurs fall from his mouth but they’re drowned out as small moans bursts from her mouth. Suddenly, she had no control over her volume, no control over what she said. It was as if this foreign pleasure that he promised her had already possessed her entirely.

“ Oh..OHH—fuck!”, she cried. Now she’s thankful for the ribbon. She wasn’t sure if she wanted him to see the way one of her eyes uncontrollably rolled into the back of her head. He surges a bit deeper than before and she can barely control the squeeze of her toes. It’s too complicated to focus on her breathing so every few thrusts she decided it was easier to hold her breath.

“ Breath or I stop ”, he warns.

“ I can’t…pleaseee”, she croakes. Her nails begin to bite the skin on his wrists. That just makes him surge deeper.

“ You can’t cum if you pass out. I need you awake. I need to watch your face when you finally do ”, he pants.

She can feel his mouth on the side of her ankle and his thumb on her clit again. Something rushes through her, it’s so overpowering that it forces the air back into her lungs and then out again, Her body erupts in tingles from head to toe.

This release is deeper, more concentrated, more intense than she’s used to. She squeezes around him so harshly that he hisses as she cums. Her legs shake as he rubs her clit in deep circles, wringing every bit of her pleasure out. She shakes against him like she’d been left out to dry. For a moment she remembers that Roman is greedy. He has no mercy for pleasure and he would very much let it drown her in it if she allowed it.

“ Okayyyy. Okay! Fuckfuckfuck!”, she bursts as she pushes against his chest. He pulls out and gives her some reprieve as she scrambles for the ribbon covering her eyes. He gets to it first, pulling it off for her.

Her eyes are wide when the lights of the room come into view. He’s flustered, sweaty, hair wild all over his head. Suddenly he bursts into a deep chuckle, showing his pearly white teeth as he gazes down at her bewilderment.“ You’d think you saw a ghost”, he snickered.

Her body still tingled, ears still buzzed. She sits up and so does he. “ So I may or may not have overreacted before all of this”, she admits sheepishly. He laughs even harder. No seriously, if she would have known it would be this easy. If she’d known that it would feel like that, she would have done it sooner.

“ Come here. We’re not done… ”, Roman turns to lay on his side. She crawls to him and he pulls her back against his chest. His arm pushes behind her head for cushion while the other hitches her leg up. He slides in with an almost comical ease compared to only minutes ago. Yet, she was just as breathless. Still gasping at the feeling of him inside of her. She turns her head to watch him as he keeps a steady but firm pace. She has to shake off another climax from his expression alone. His eyes are desperate. She swore she could read every dirty thought on his face. She so badly wanted her to enjoy this and it was so evident just by the way his fingers wouldn’t leave her clit. Desperate to make her cum. She can’t help but to steal another kiss because of it.

He angles his hips and her head lulls back into his arm, her eyes rolling up into the ceiling. He was brushing up against that spot again and her volume control went out of the window. The pleads spill out of her endlessly, calling out for something she couldn’t put into words.

“ Right there?”

She nods frantically. “YESyesyesrightthere”, she groans. He leans down to the side of her breast and presses his mouth against her nipple. One of her hands tangles against the duvet and the other scratches the side of his chiseled stomach. The way his hips roll into her should be a crime. His precision— unmatched. When his mouth pops off her flesh she reaches back and feels his hair. He leans closer, pressing his mouth against her ear. A sweet torture, a whisper from his mouth only to her own ears.

“ Is that what you want?”, he grunts.

“ Yes I need it. I need it”, she moans drunkenly. Her brows furrow, mouth biting for the skin of her own lip. The hand under her leg abandons it for her neck. She keeps her leg thrown over his own. She’s wide open to the room. When his hand clasps around her neck, her head falls directly on his arm giving her a full view of his face. A natural surrender. She can’t help the smile that creeps up in between shouts of ecstasy. There’s no pressure in his hand. It just means something. She never felt the desire to be owned or found the appeal. But To be coveted. To trust enough. To admit the defeat of her own walls and hangups. To even allow to let his hand to stay there. To not want him to pull it away. He catches the glint in her eye and a wicked grin spreads across his mouth.

The speed of his thrusts increase and that earns him a nice squeak of surprise on her end. The hand around her neck trails to her jaw. He was especially deep now, so deep she could hardly take a full breath. His eyes darkened as he pressed his fat thumb past her swollen lips and pressed down on her tongue. Her mouth closed around his flesh like it fed her oxygen. A guttural, brutish sound left his mouth at the sight. She could see his jaw clench. A sigh of avidity flows from him. Her eyes rolls back as the climax sweeps her. “ You beautiful creature, my desires incarnate”, he seethes into her mouth. Her tongue slips into his. She tastes the brandy on his tongue and it surges the kiss deeper.

Still, he doesn’t eaves her no time to recuperate as he turns her onto her stomach. His hands find her ass and squeeze. His chest to her back, her head to the mattress, his mouth just above her ear. He feels entirely different inside of her from this angle. He feels wider, endless. She moans his name as inches in.

With the buffer between her ass and his stomach, depth and pace could be more forgiving. However, the angle was even more precise. The tip of his cock dragged against that spot in the most toe curling fashion. He was practically poking it with the way he angled himself into her. He barely pulls out as he rocks into her. Her eyes cross behind her closed lids.

The feeling is so intense, her hands shoot above her head, reaching out for something. His palms come down over the back of hers, holding them flat to the mattress. It feels like he’s molding himself to her like a second skin. He guides her hands underneath her chest, cocooning himself over her body as he gains momentum. The sound of skin slapping echoes across the room, blending with each gasp from her mouth, timed perfectly.

“ You’re sooooo deep”, she grunts against the mattress, muffled and all.

“ You want some out ?”

“ I don’t fucking know—-oh my godddd”, she whines and sputters and twists as he rocks into her. She likes the weight of him against her. She likes the feeling of his heart beat on her back as he ruts into her, grunting his praises. The slickness of their bodies against each other. Grunting his appreciation.

But the sensitivity grows and blooms deep in her stomach. Every sensory combines and jumbles into a looming monstrous feeling.

“ Is it broken?” He taunts.

“ No!”, she shouts.

“ but I thought you said it doesn’t work?”, his thrusts turn to daggers. An attempt at compliance that she gave freely. Rubbing her words in her face.

“ It worksitworksss”, she screeches. His words only riling her up. Only making this deliciously more underable. And those shouts she tried so hard to control finally rolled into screame.

It was sobering to realize just how easily he could reduce her to a screaming, squirming, crying, whining, shell of herself. How easily he could control her body and play it with such precision. He had broken her down into bits, put her together, pulled her apart and washed her away with pleasure. It was scary to know the sheer power of his hands, his mouth, his body —and know that he actively chose to only inflict pleasure with them.

On this very night she was ruined. It could only be him. Now her mind was racing but not the way it was before. Nothing feels this good, nothing should feel this good. And every thought of him that pops up just adds to the pleasure. This is what she wanted for the rest of her days—gentleness, the whisper of sweet nothings, hearty breakfasts, warm beds that smell like him, cigar smoke, late nights, expensive wines, non judgemental ears and mind bending pleasure. In every fucking position. Missionary first and whatever this is second.

“ YES…. YES PLEASE ROMAN. PLEASEEE!!”, she bellowed from her stomach. She spat the words from her mouth like they were poisonous. Like the last words of a drowning person. Deep in her gut she felt the wraith of his passion. A transformative love that grabbed her soul and wrung it dry. Was it pleasure or torture? Could pleasure be torture? Was it natural to feel so much at once —to be loved to the point of insanity ? Because she already came and he was still going. Not even a shudder from his lips or a falter in his hips when she met her climax.

“ ITS SO MUCH!”, she yells .She’s soaked herself and him completely. A new wave of arousal making it’s appearance heard loud and clear. She didn’t think it possible to be aroused so heavily. To be throbbing with pleasure and still want more. To be so unraveled.

She wonders if she has the same effect. His mouth hung open just above the side of her face, brows furrowed, grunting with each thrust. And there was no shame, he didn’t hide his pleasure. His face broke up in the way hers did and her heart sang. She felt the firmness of his muscles on her back and ass, the sweat of him seeping onto her skin, the strength of his arm encompassing her, the powder of his hips. He was perfect…absolutely perfect.

“ Do you feel it my love ?I kept my promise.”

“ FUCKK”, she screeches, voice cracking from the exertion of release after release.

“ I know. I know.”, he whispers. And her emotions meet a peak. Should she be embarrassed to cry? Because she was about to. Howling, sighing, reasoning, praising him. In awe of his beauty, of his strength, of his love.

He was killing something inside of her. Something rotten that had taken root and burrowed itself deep within her being. In the fibers, tissues, blood, and bone of her existence. A spoiled bit that inflicted her mind with fear, desperation, sorrow. It had convinced her she would never be loved. That she would never know pleasure. That she would be left unsated, unhappy and unwanted. That she was nothing. He dug for that bit, seized it, squeezed it, and obliterated it with every swell of pleasure that left her trembling. He washed it away with whispers of ‘I love you’ and ‘you’re beautiful’. As he leaned over her, their eyes connected as her head turns. To hold his gaze only resulted in another wave of gut wrenching ecstasy.

I will take your darkness and turn it sweet. This I vow to you.

She remembers. She remembers those words. And Should could feel the orgasm building from her toes all the way to the nerves under her fucking teeth. “Roman….”, she pleads.

“ Give it to me.”

“It’s so much”, she warned weakly. Slightly afraid from the strength of the release she was harboring. A load too big to carry on her own.

“ I have you.” Roman liked to watch her fall apart. To deploy into the madness of climax. He liked the grit of an orgasm. Not being able to control the eyes or the face. The contortion of the body. Seeing the most primal, stripped down, raw version of someone. She could hardly catch her breath. There was tightness in her chest like she had been running. One of his hands slipped down between herself and the mattress to reach her mound. With just a few swift and firm circles against her clit , she was bursting at the seams.

She came so hard she burst into a hiccup of tears, shaking against the wrath of her orgasm like a leaf in the wind. Her ears rang, white washes over her vision like the sun came out in the middle of the bedroom. He kept his face pressed to hers. He pulled out every bit of her orgasm and rode her wave until the very end. When she finally relaxed into the mattress, nerves shot to hell, he allowed his climax. When he fills her up he shouts. He grinds until he’s twitching—his body yielding him to stop. He trembled as he pulled away.

She turns onto her back and he falls on top of her, careful not to crush her— though she doesn’t mind. They pant out into the room as they catch their breaths. He leans to wipe her face with the back of his hand.

With a voice raspy from the screaming she clears her throat…the first to break the ice. “ Yes again, to the marriage thing by the way.”

If this would be marriage. She could get used to this.

Roman Pov

The next few days were spent giving Jane many more firsts. They went horseback riding and hunting. He sat and watched Arnaud teach her Croquet. Jane was pretty good and became competitive over time. They played card games, went sightseeing and even attended Ballets.

The trip extended itself due to Charlotte wanting to help plan the wedding. In the Palais Royal, a few hundred meters from the property, sat its own chapel. It was an old building, but it was beautiful and surprisingly small compared to the rest of the estate. Jane had expressed numerous times that she wanted to get married soon, surrounded by the friends she’d made along the way. No extravagance, no dramatic entrances, no showboating. Roman obliged without any issue whatsoever. So as he stood at the altar in front of the minister, he wondered if this was enough—if the simplicity of this would be enough for her to remember fondly. Eloise wore a white poofy dress with shiny tap shoes, throwing white flowers down the aisle. She was hopping and skipping, eventually throwing the flowers on guests by accident, of course. Caden was the ring bearer, with much persuasion and bribes on his part.

When he saw her appear at the entrance of the chapel with Earl beside her, all doubt was washed away. Here Jane was in a simple white slip gown, hair down, holding a bouquet of white chrysanthemums that Eloise had picked for her in the garden.

She’d been crying, he could tell. But her smile was radiant. It was probably nerves—the same nerves he’d been feeling the night before and just moments prior. The hairstylist Mary, stylist Guston, Beatrice, Charlotte, and Arnaud were welcomed guests. Rory, Adhar, Cortez, and a dozen other pirates filled the rest of the seats. It was quite a sight seeing the filthy men cleaned up in fancy clothes for the event. It only made sense for Dr. Earl to walk her down the aisle. He cleaned her wounds, nursed her to health, and looked after her in her weakest moments. He’d taken care of everyone on that ship at one moment or another. In some strange way, he was a father to many. His quiet knowledge had been a lifeline at times.

When he took her hand in his as they exchanged vows, he looked deeply into her twinkling eyes. He could see their whole future in them. She’d never looked more beautiful than she did right now. Her thumb swept over the back of his hand when she spoke. He wished he could remember all that was said, but all he could focus on was how beautiful she was and how lucky he was. He stole kisses when he wasn’t supposed to, long before the minister could pronounce them husband and wife.

The reception was held in the orangery, filled with tables, food, cakes, and flowers. He struggled to pull away after the first dance, holding her in his arms, looking into her eyes, whispering things that made her laugh. He lost track of time.

Caden danced with Eloise, twirling her around as she squealed with joy. Rory asked Jane to dance, and she obliged. Adhar raided the dessert bar. Cortez had an intense conversation with Arnaud about his travels east. Charlotte and Earl spoke in German, and it seemed like a comfort for her to finally communicate that way, considering that her mother was German-born. Beatrice, Mary, and Guston enjoyed a drink. Roman was okay with just watching—just taking in all the amazing people he’d come to know. Jane and him had a community that was budding and growing. Now it was only a matter of time before they could give that community it’s own name.

On the high of post-marital bliss, the lordship announcement came late at night at the end of the week. A semi-vacant estate had been cleaned, prepared, and was being filled with help. It was located in the French countryside, overlooking a cliff leading down to the beach.

And after another extended week of waiting, the time finally came. Roman decided it would be better if they arrived first. Everyone else could come later, but this experience would be shared between the two of them first. Jane obliged, and they set out on a three-hour carriage ride with their belongings.

The French countryside alpes maritime offered greenery, peaks and valleys, cobblestone markets, and flower fields. It was comforting and quiet as they inched closer to the property. Jane was anxious, so he held her hand in his as they watched the scenery. A mile from their property, they approached green pastures that expanded for acres. Trees, flower fields, and fresh air with subtle hints of salt characterized the area.

The building itself was Georgian style, with a light brown brick surrounding the entirety of the home. It was characterized by its warm, buttery yellow façade, complemented by crisp white trim around the windows and doors. The exterior had a smooth finish, giving it a refined yet welcoming appearance. The roof featured dark slate tiles, contrasting beautifully with the lighter tones of the walls.

Pebbles rumbled and scratched against the wheels of the carriage as they came to a halt. Fifteen servants stood at the stairs. Tall, multi-paned windows allowed abundant light into the interior, framed by decorative white shutters. The entrance boasted a grand door, framed by a small portico supported by slender columns, creating a stately focal point.

The estate was set amidst lush, landscaped gardens that enhanced its beauty. The grounds were meticulously maintained, with vibrant flower beds filled with seasonal blooms, neatly trimmed hedges, and a variety of trees providing shade and privacy. A winding gravel path led up to the entrance, flanked by ornamental shrubs and colorful blossoms.

Two primary servants, a male and a female, stood to the left of the property. The pair seemed to be the head footman and the head housemaid. They greeted the couple, referring to Roman as Lord Ramlal and Jane as Lady Ramlal. Jane squeezed his hand as they approached the steps.

The interior featured high ceilings adorned with intricate cornices and decorative plasterwork, typical of Regency design. Large windows allow natural light to flood the spaces, framed by heavy drapes in rich fabrics that added warmth and texture. The color palette was warm and inviting, with soft creams, muted greens, and touches of gold. Floral-patterned wallpaper in the drawing room featured delicate designs that added a touch of refinement without overwhelming the senses. The dining room sported a richer hue, a deep navy, complemented by gilded accents.

There were two wings of the home, which housed additional bedrooms and private spaces. A staggering 9 bedrooms, each thoughtfully decorated to provide a unique yet cohesive aesthetic, along with eight well-appointed bathrooms featuring elegant fixtures that combined functionality and style. There was also a library and a study, serving as quiet retreats for reading or work.

The floors throughout the estate were a mix of polished hardwood. In common areas, rich rugs defined seating arrangements and added a layer of comfort, while the staircase featured a beautifully crafted wooden banister that was both sturdy and ornate.

The furniture was a tasteful mix of Regency-era pieces and more contemporary selections. Plush sofas and armchairs, upholstered in luxurious fabrics, invited relaxation, while mahogany tables and sideboards showcased intricate craftsmanship. Decorative accents, such as vases and paintings, added character to the rooms. The house felt lived in.

There were drawing rooms, two dining rooms—one for guests and one for more intimate parties—a small dancing room, servants' quarters, and multiple kitchens for staff and the family. It was almost too much to take in. Jane looked overwhelmed, and Roman was absorbing the information from the head maid.

When they were left to their own devices inside the piano room, the silence was deafening. This was it—the real beginning of their story—a long one he hoped. This house would soon fill with countless memories, its own smell, and the sound of happiness. They would bring her own touch to it.

Their respective wedding guests all piled into carriages to visit the property. The sound of their voices was nothing short of echoes of support and excitement. Caden chose his bedroom like an excited small child. While still wanting to be a pirate so badly, he promised to come and visit often. Being so young, he was still figuring things out. There would always be a home for him if he changed his mind.

Later in the day, they toured the town. It was practically barren, waiting to be filled with the lives of more residents. About twenty people lived there now, and most of them were from humble means. Roman introduced himself as he passed them. Jane, being a bit more shy, stayed behind in the carriage and waved. In his words, he promised to bring life back to the town—more jobs, better food. In the coming weeks, he had his work cut out for him.

But perhaps the best part of the entire estate was that just 800 meters from the back of the house sat a cliff overlooking the ocean. Stone steps lead down to the pebbled shore—a perfect spot for his crew to stop and visit.

The boat that carried them from the dragon's mouth sat in the distance. Roman and Jane walked down the steps followed by Ahdar, Cortez, Rory, and Caden. The rest of the crew waved from from the sides of the ship in the distance.

“It’s blue! They painted it blue!?”, Jane gasped.

A whoosh of salty wind burned their cheeks as they watched Jane. She got closer to the ship. At the front of the boat was a blue-carved figurehead—a mermaid. Jane squinted as her bare feet sloshed through the pebbled water. She looked up at the ship, and then her eyes widened. In her image—her face—was carved into the mermaid.

“’T’was Roman’s idea if you hate it,” Adhar blurted.

Jane was in shock, her mouth hanging open as she stared up at the giant statue of herself. Then her hands found her mouth, and her eyes teared up.

“It’s good luck—a mermaid in your likeness to bring us luck and protect us. She even wears your talisman around her neck. See?” Rory pointed at the mermaid's necklace. There it was—somehow carved in and bolted into the statue was her talisman. A huge smile spread across her face. She gushed about how much she loved it.

On the side of the ship, a blue Bakunawa was carved, chasing a fish. The god itself—a representation of the trials they’d all been through. Through its mercy, they all lived another day. Officially called the Blue Bakunawa, it would sail the seas as the largest pirate vessel ever—a giant among ants. Blessed by Lady Jane Ramlal. The Lady of Ramlal Manor. Lady Jane, of the Blue Bakunawa. The best thing that had ever happened to anyone aboard the Black Jewel. Imprinted on the black hearts of many pirates.

The goodbyes were teary. Jane didn’t want Caden to go. He unexpectedly got teary, too. Roman surprised him at the last minute by executing one of his final authorities as captain to appoint him an official crew member. Caden was a pirate. The young boy screamed with joy. His crewmates cheered.

The sun hid itself behind the horizon, going to sleep once more. It was getting late now. Roman took his pirate hat from his head and gently placed it on Adhar. For a moment, the young man did not register. And then he did.

Constant echoes of ‘Really, Captain?!’and ‘Are you sure, Captain?’ fell from his mouth. Fear and excitement clashed.

“You’ve served me well. I hope you find that girl in your journey east. I wish you all the luck. And when you get her back, bring her back here. We would love to meet her,” Roman chuckled. Adhar, still in shock, looked nothing short of a child as he nodded with exaggeration.

Rory picked Jane up and spun her around, as always. Sentimentally, he touched foreheads with Roman—a silent goodbye to two partners. Rory was his right hand, the man who did the hard jobs. A trusted friend.

Cortez and Adhar’s farewells were also surprisingly teary. Roman teased them for it. But then Jane lost it when Adhar hugged her. Understandably, this was hard. Adhar was yet another friend she’d come to know. He taught her sword fighting. They talked about London on numerous occasions and kept her company.

“I’m going to miss you. Write to me,” she sniffled.

“I will. I’ll be back soon, I promise. This time next year we’ll all come back. I’ll even drag William with me if I have to,” Adhar smile.

Roman grinned. “Thank you for all you’ve done for me and for her. You’ll make a great captain.” Adhar clapped a hand over Roman’s shoulder in appreciation.

Roman went on to thank Cortez for being such a fantastic helmsman. He steered the ship with iron hands and a remarkable knowledge of the sea and the monsters they faced. He was valued beyond measure. He got them back in one piece.

“A’right you mangy mutts. New change of plans. You’ll answer to Adhar now. I expect your presence at my dinner table in one year’s time. I order you lot to stay alive until then. Is that clear, you scallywags?!”

“Aye, aye, Captain!” the crew replied in unison. Their stances were rigid as they gave him a pirate salute—the swing of a palm towards the forehead. A final sign of respect.

Hundreds of hands and hats wagged and waved on the side of the Blue Bakunawa as the ship set sail once more. Roman and Jane waved their goodbyes as they watched their friends become smaller, and smaller, and smaller...and smaller.

“And then there were two,” Jane sniffled. She looked up at her husband with joyful, teary eyes, parting ways with the life of a pirate—a crew that had saved her long enough for her to find herself again.

“Two indeed. We have work to do, darling,” Roman quipped, giving her a swift kiss.

“You know what?”

“Mmm?”

“I think I know what my final wish will be,” she urged.

His eyebrows raised in surprise as he looked down at her determined face. “What is it?”

She sighed. “You said to use the wish on myself, but this is something I want. I want this now more than ever.”

“Okay...” he replied, waiting patiently. Her eyes closed as she leaned back into his chest.

“Uh... Dragon?” she called out.

A few moments later, a thunderous and regal voice responded. “What, child?”

“I’m ready to give you my last wish,” Jane blurted.

“...Go on,” said the dragon.

“I wish for our town—the town that Roman and I will build—to be a sanctuary for all misfits. For every ‘other.’ For every unprotected, unrepresented, undervalued person. A town that will share a real community. A town that does not steal from one another. A town that protects its women and children. A town of men with compassion and honor. A town with resources. Nobody will be needy. No one will want for anything. A town that is protected from hatred, prejudice, and disdain. Let this town grow in number and let us have enough housing to accommodate everyone. Let it attract those with open hearts. Allow this town to be a safe haven for all who may seek it. Grant good health to all those who live in this town. And most of all—let there be no evil force strong enough to penetrate it. Let this town be self-sustainable, resilient, and content,” she said.

When the dragon did not answer, she wondered if she had botched her wish. Roman could since her becoming nervous. She wanted quite a few things—surely it couldn’t count as one wish. Could it?

“It is done... goodbye,” said the ominous voice. It echoed and trickled away in the wind, just as Jane’s wish did. Now all that was left to do was watch it come to fruition.

Jane POV

Six months into building their town, Jane had realized a few things. She loved being a wife. She loved the flowers at the end of the week. She loved the candlelit dinners. She loved the authority; people called her Lady Jane or Seigneuress Ramlal. She loved wearing her ring on her finger. She loved the fact that Roman carried her last name. She loved it all.

She loved carpentry. Roman had built a wheat mill with his bare hands, along with the help of 20 other men. She had no idea that he had a background in carpentry and construction. He taught her the basics, allowing her to help along the way.

She fucking loved sex. She loved it so much it usually crossed her mind at least once a day. It was kind of ridiculous. Roman certainly didn’t mind. Her needs were met almost always on demand. It had become well known that all servants were to stay on their wing after 11 o’clock at night.

And last, she loved the friendships she was building. Not just any friendships—girl friendships! Mary was a frequent visitor, along with Charlotte. Three girls, cut from the same cloth, living a life they could be proud of. She never realized just how much they had in common, sharing stories by the fireplace over a bottle of wine, going on long walks on the estate until Ramlal Manor was the size of a dot, and sitting in the grass watching the horses graze. She had never felt the warmth of female friendship until now. Sure she had friends back in London but everybody had to work. There was no time to really bond. Now, She could talk about anything—no judgment. She told stories in detail, stories that would be far too painful for Roman to hear. They did the same, sharing memories—good and bad. There was no shame, only laughter and "me too's." It was comforting and recharging. She loved friendship.

People were coming to the town in droves. More buildings were being bult: farms, businesses, houses, apartments, theaters, taverns and more. The economy was growing and bursting. People needed jobs, and there were plenty to go around.

With much contemplation, she started writing to Aunt Jillian in Westminster, England. Jillian was one of the few relatives she had left. Most of her family in the islands had passed away. They exchanged letters over the span of four months. She wrote about Roman and how they met. She told the story of their love and the people she had come to know. She mentioned nothing of the dragons, monsters, or mysterious island. For now, it was all just "inheritance." She sent a sizable amount of money and planned to visit her family in the next few weeks to discuss relocating to a separate guest property on the estate. It was a relationship she was afraid to pursue, but Roman encouraged it when she brought it up over dinner. Jillian expressed how proud she was of her niece and was saddened that she hadn’t reached out sooner—a reminder to how one’s own suffering can cut them off from the world.

Money had the power to fuel generosity. Now, Jane could help people in ways that she couldn’t before. She couldn’t deny that it was somewhat self-serving; every donation felt like it healed something inside her. She thought back to all the times she wished someone would have come to her aid, all those nights she spent hungry, wondering if things would ever get better. She could be that glimmer of hope for someone.

She started sending money and letters to her old roommates in London with whom she had shared an apartment. It took weeks for them to respond out of skepticism. When they finally wrote back, they were convinced it was some scam and started asking her questions that only the "real Jane" could answer. She responded with precision. The next letter detailed their surprise and shock; they thought she was dead. A few days later, the eight of them were reunited as she convinced them to possibly move to her budding town. They all agreed to make the transition.

Roman had his own hobbies. He loved hunting with Arnaud and his gentleman friends. He enjoyed communing with his town members and made friends with the hardworking men at the mill. He loved reading in his office though Jane loved to interrupt him so that he could fulfill his “husbandly duties”. Roman tried his hand at growing his own tobacco to pair with his pipe collection, and it was a success; he raved about it all day long. Things were coming together well. They grew just as much as individuals as they would together.

While they sat in their dining room, Jane looked up at the portrait that Arnaud had painted of them. She loved it and often stopped to admire it as she passed through the house. As her fork pushed around her dinner, Roman noticed her distracted demeanor. “What’s on your mind? Does the food displease you?”

“No—no. It’s great. I’m just not as hungry.”

“What’s wrong?”

Jane paused for a moment. Was this really a good time? As understanding as he was, sometimes men got weird about these topics. He hadn’t brought it up, so she was taking a leap. “People around town have been asking me when I’m going to have a baby,” she blurted.

Roman paused mid-chew as he studied her face, a mix of light concern and surprise. She wanted to sink back into her seat. “Has this upset you? Who was it? I will have a talk with the—”

“No, no. I’m not upset at all. Besides, you know how middle-aged women can be sometimes. It’s natural for them to ask”, Jane insists.

“It does not have to be natural if you do not wish it,” he explained.

“I know—I understand. I think our life feels pretty full with just the two of us. I’m fulfilled. I’m happy with you all to myself. However, Eloise has changed my mind on a lot of things. She is very loved. I worry that my past would inhibit me from being a good mother.”

“I think if you care so deeply about being a good mother, then that’s usually a good indicator that you would indeed be a good mother,” Roman chuckled. Jane smiled.

“Well... what do you think? Should we?”

“I’m okay if we do. I’m okay if we don’t. After finding you, I feel no need to push my luck. If the innocence of a child is bestowed upon us, I will be most thankful for the privilege.”

“I think we should enjoy each other a bit longer. Maybe I’m selfish, but we’re due a few more years of just being husband and wife. Maybe it’s not in the cards. We’ve had a few accidents,” she shrugged.

“Is it an accident if you beg for it?” Roman scoffed. Jane laughed; he certainly had a point.

“Well… if it was going to happen, it would have happened by now.”

“You and I both know that a few accidents do not guarantee pregnancy. It takes consistency. If we really tried, it would be a everyday all day affair. The whole thing is very meticulous.”

“Have you not been meticulous?” she smirked.

“Negative. I can show you meticulous,” he warned. She shook her head playfully.

“How do you know all this anyway?” Jane squinted.

“I have plenty of fathers for friends. They give me unwarranted advice too. It’s not just you,” he snorted.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Roman pulled her chair closer to his. “Whatever future is ahead of us is a future fulfilled. I could ask for no more. I am incredibly lucky to have you.”

“And I you. I won’t push my luck. If it happens, it happens. If not, there is no loss. When we’re really ready, we will know,” she hummed.

“No loss whatsoever,” he agreed, placing a kiss on her temple.

A tap at the window alerted them. The two fell quiet, waiting for the sound again. Two more taps, and they stood up from the table. Roman walked over to the window and opened it. Jane followed closely behind as a cold draft wafted into the room. A tiny fluttering hoot called from the darkness, and the patter of tiny feet slapped against the balcony railing.

The hoot of two doves perched on the balcony called for their attention. They walked into the light, eyeing the couple.

Jane swooned. “Aww, what on earth are two doves doing all the way out here? Isn’t this a bit too close to the sea?”

“You know, I asked myself the same thing once, but then something really amazing happened,” Roman grinned.

“Let’s not question it then,” Jane smiled warmly.

The End.

Authors note: Well, there ya have it ! I would like to take this time to thank @sortudademais @2-muchsauce @joannasteez @thesamoanqueen @harmshake @fuffduff and many more for being so kind and making my writing experience such a pleasurable journey on this app. If you’ve sent me a kind message or interacted with this story, I Thankyou from the bottom of my heart. I cared so much about these characters. I hope I’ve done them justice.

Epilogue may be pending if I have something else to say but for the most part every end has been tied up. My next work in progress will feature Jey USO and it will be a surfer story so stay tuned for that. Thank you for reading. Reblogs always help but most importantly, tell me what you thought of the story if you’d like. It really makes writing all the more worth it. Bye for now! ❤️

[balioc]

Once, in the forgotten times, there was a beautiful country where the land runs out to the sea. So blessed was this country, so rich and strong, that the man who ruled over it was called an emperor. This emperor was accounted by some to be wise, and just, and good. For his people prospered under his rulership, as such things are measured; and besides, he had authored several volumes of fine poetry.

And the emperor dwelt within a palace of black marble, and he sat upon a throne that had been carved from a great black pearl. And the flowers in his imperial gardens were lovely, and the beasts in his imperial menagerie were magnificent. And he had seven daughters, all clever and lovely, each of them surely worthy to rule after him. And he had a pet wood-thrush, which was ever at his side, filling his ears with the music that he loved the best.

But the emperor was troubled in his heart. As such men often are.

All the pleasures of the world had little weight and little substance for him. Every day they seemed more absurd, and less real. His imperial splendor, and his imperial duty, brought him little joy. And every day he thought about leaving his country behind, and traveling to the lands beyond the sea.

On the evening of his fortieth birthday –

perhaps the sunset was coral and gold, on that evening, and the air was warm and sweet. And the emperor walked in his garden, beholding the loveliness of his flowers; and he walked in his menagerie, beholding the magnificence of his beasts; and he sat to dinner with his daughters, listening to all their witty winsome words; and when the sky was black and the stars rose pale and bright, he passed an hour listening to the songs of his wood-thrush. It seemed to him, then, that the world was not such a bad place, even if it was ridiculous and insubstantial. There was much that he loved, and when he left it behind him, he would know sorrow. And, after all, the lands beyond the sea will be there always, and it matters little to them whether we come to them today or tomorrow. So it was that, as he went to his bed, he resolved to tarry a while in his imperial life before he departed. In fact he tarried for many years, ruling sagely and writing poems, until his bones grew frail and his breath grew short. Then he knew at last that nothing more was left for him in the world, and he set off in his little boat, to see what high holy wonders awaited him upon the far shores.

or he tarried for many years, enjoying the delights of his palace and his family and his library, until his bones grew frail and his breath grew short. Then he knew that he had not the strength to survive a journey to the lands beyond the sea. But he understood that he had been given more than his share of delights, and that he had discharged his duties as well as anyone could ask of him; and he died in his bed, smiling, as his wood-thrush sang.

or he tarried for many years, always hungry for one more evening with all that he loved, until his bones grew frail and his breath grew short. Then he knew that he had not the strength to survive a journey to the lands beyond the sea. Suddenly all his love grew ashen and hollow, and everything in his life seemed hateful to him. He could think of nothing but the lands beyond the sea, and the strange nameless glories that he would never behold. He died a few weeks later, shriveled and bitter, with curses upon his lips.

or the sky roiled gray and black, on that evening, and the air was thin and cold. And the emperor huddled within his library beneath a brocaded blanket, reading an old book that he had loved in the days of his childhood; and later he sat to dinner with his daughters, listening with half an ear to their girlish chatter; and his wood-thrush sang for him when he returned to his rooms. And it seemed to him that the world was a hard place, and frightening, and that any journey across the sea would be filled with pains and perils. And it seemed to him that he had a fine life, with his palace and his books and his daughters and his bird, and that he would be wise to appreciate it. And he resolved never to set forth for the lands beyond the sea, except perhaps only in his dreams. Many years later, as he lay upon his dying-bed, he spoke with great eloquence of the great good fortune with which he had been blessed. He swore that he was happy with what he had known. But his voice quavered when he said it, and there was a cringing melancholy shame in his eyes, and his daughters could not bring themselves to believe him.

or the sky was twilight purple, on that evening, and the air hung heavy with portent. And the emperor walked through his gardens, and visited his menagerie, and dined with his daughters, and listened to the music of his wood-thrush; and it was all very beautiful, and yet it was not what he desired. Something in his soul was fixed upon a different kind of beauty, a beauty that he had never known, a beauty strange and nameless and high and holy. So it was that he set forth that very night, in his little boat, towards the lands beyond the sea –

and he traveled for many nights, beneath the cold clear stars, and for many days beneath the splendid sun –

and he came to the far shores, and when he stepped out of his boat, he fell to his knees in awe. For before him there stood great spires of chalcedony and gold, which spiraled up into the heavens; and he understood that they were the tower-homes of great wizards, who knew the most secret and noble arts, who remembered the ancient lore that the rest of the world had forgotten. And in the skies of that place, dragons flew from mountain peak to mountain peak, lighting the world with the comets of their flame. And he dwelt for the rest of his mortal life in that place, knowing a glory that was strange and nameless and high and holy. And when at long last he died, as all men must die, he had no regrets at all.

or he came to the far shores, and when he stepped out of his boat, he fell to his knees in awe. For before him there stood a coterie of men and women, immortally grand in their aspect, who had come to greet him. These were the planets, who walked the world in human shape, in the lands beyond the sea. They were wreathed in their clouds of glittering cosmic gas, and haloed by their rings of ice and dust, and all their moons flocked about them in the form of birds. Together they blessed the emperor, and welcomed him into their company. They placed upon his brow an ember of the divine fire, which had burned since the first moment of creation, and thereby made him into a being of the celestial spheres; and he ascended with them to their home in the great spangled void. So it was that the emperor rose above the reach of death and time, becoming an eternal light in an eternal orbit. So it was that, at long last, he came to know peace. For there can be no peace where death and time hold sway.

or he came to the far shores, and when he stepped out of his boat, he fell to his knees in terror and despair. For there was nothing there but sand and rocks and trees. The truth is that one shoreline is very much like another; and if we are in the habit of peopling unseen lands with wizards and dragons, in our imaginings, that says more about us than it does about those lands. The emperor knew, all at once, that he had abandoned his home and his family for nothing more than some lies that he had told himself. And he lay upon the beach, and wept, eating nothing and drinking nothing until death came for him in its mercy.

or he came to the far shores, and when he stepped out of his boat, he fell to his knees in terror and despair. For there was nothing there but sand and rocks and trees. He knew at once that he had been deceived in his hopes of glory, or rather that he had deceived himself. But he was a man of a philosophical bent, and he laughed at his own foolishness, and he resolved to do what he could with what he had. So he built a little hut, and gathered cocoa-nuts, and taught himself to fish with a crude spear; and he whiled away the hours watching the waves crash against the shore, and watching the stars shine in their heaven. From time to time he remembered his days of poetry and statecraft – he remembered his gardens and his menagerie and his daughters and his wood-thrush – and sometimes there was a wistful ache in it. But the sea and the sky are very lovely, in their own vast rough way, and he was not always sure that he had lost more than he had gained.

or he came to the far shores, and when he stepped out of his boat, his lips twisted into a grim and knowing smile. For, just as he had expected, there was nothing there but sand and rocks and trees. He had come to these lands seeking the paradise of his soul – and who could imagine that the universe would ever provide such a thing? Who could imagine that paradise might be found? Only the emperor knew the shape of his own soul. Only he could build the thing for which he yearned. And so he unloaded his traveling-pack, and took up his tools and his plans, and began to work.

or he sailed on and on, night after night and day after day, until he found himself upon the shores of his own country. For the world is a sphere, as we all know well, and the ocean was not so wide as the emperor had imagined. There was no land beyond the sea, save for his old home, which he had left in search of something strange and nameless and high and holy. There was no paradise to be found, save for the loves that he had known throughout his life. And what it was that he thought, as he walked back into his own palace, I will not venture to say.

[taylorkellyreporting]

i hope no one minds if i liveblog this bitch: the pitt from 1x02

1x02

robby is one panic attack away from a breakdown

me 🤝🏼 vic 🤝🏼 crushing on mateo

fruitcake 😭

“wanna see my vagina?” screaming

“i have nothing but respect for dr. garcia. in fact, i think she would make a wonderful hostess at applebees.” lmfaooo

that poor man :(

desperately need to know what the hell is going on with dr. robbie and dr. collins

NOT AN ANKLE MONITOR 😭💀

pasty white skfjgks

the mom claiming her son consuming edibles will cause him to have autism? oh brother 🙄 glad mel shut that down.

the girlfriend supergluing the dog collar to her boyfriend oh she’s so real

“i just hate seeing families torn apart.” “oh, they’ll be fine.” “how can you be sure?” “they’re white.” lmao yeah

i really love how attentive langdon is with mel <3

mel singing savage, she’s so fucking funny 😭

oh shiiit

the 2 nurses constantly talking shit are hilarious

damn the least these kids could do is respect their dads final wishes

that scene with the parents finding out their 18 year old son is brain dead was heart wrenching

1x03

“i have nothing against pathologists.” 😭

i love how they have moments of silence for patients that pass away

mel clapping pls

whitaker can’t catch a break 😭

ohhhh my God i did NOT see those two cases with the fent being connected

robby should’ve reported that david kid a long time ago

cocksucker dkfkgkfks

this episode was so damn sad

1x04

pls they’re taking bets on the ambulance

would kill to know why dr. garcia and dr. langdon have beef

pls not the nair 😭

goodness this scene with the dying man and his daughter is making me so sad

damn, it must hurt to watch the girl who accidentally took fent with your son get to go home while your kid’s going to the morgue

what is going on with this pregnancy…

the social worker is placing bets??? 😭

i have a feeling they won’t be taking the boat out this weekend

that damn fox

fuck.

1x05

knew as soon as that guy said something about no one in the waiting room dying that someone was going to/come close to it

the langdon foreshadowing is so good

i just know witaker’s quitting after this shift

abbot and robby are so real for being willing to falsify records so that the girl is able to get the abortion she wants

“next time buy me dinner first” love this lady 😭

“don’t mind myrna, she’s harmless” “she’s handcuffed!” that’s why she’s harmless” lmfao

“you’re not a burden, you’re my mom.” 🥹

mel is such a good doctor

so the daughter either fled or something happened to her

“i’m not judging” girl that’s all you’ve been doing

this kid needs to live or i fear for whitaker

“please don’t hand me a condom” “condom?!” the light just drained from his eyes

omg it’s her aunt????

fuck her mom, forever

1x06

i feel so bad for mel’s patient ☹️

is anyone else getting a little vibe from santos and garcia? 🤨

“who is she?” “right?” no matter how busy langdon is, he still makes time to shade garcia 😭

“see? we do have patients that appreciate you.” right as myrna wheels by flipping him off dhfkd

“show off those ankles!” mel looking 😭 pls

don’t think i’ve ever seen someone excited about putting a chest tube into a patient

NOT HER FOOT 😭💀

i feel bad for javadi cause no one is taking her seriously but i gotta say that fake call sent me

“want me to draw your blood?” “you already did” lmao

“so there’s gonna a-a worm graveyard in my brain forever?” “yeah, but they’re resting in peace” langdon is hilarious

probably an unpopular opinion but i don’t really care for javadi

so santos can dish it out but she can’t take it…that tracks

i love mel’s relationship with her sister

THE GIRLS ARE FIGHTINGGGG

1x07

i hope collins doesn’t lose her baby

“he’s autistic! did you see that in his past medical history?” “it’s an ankle sprain, it has nothing to do with his injury.” it kinda has everything to do with it

dana calling robby a sad boy plssss

langdon go back and let mel finish her story NOW

“i think he’s molesting our daughter.” Jesus.

so she was pushed. how awful.

i’m on samira’s side, i think there’s something deeper with her patient

really hope something goes wrong and the dad dies

“you’re making a…a great first impression.” hell yeah.

oh God. santos was hurt, too.

i’m so glad the girls mom let her have the abortion.

FUCK THIS IS SO UNFAIR

1x08

so glad rita’s back

why’s the patient who’s flirting with collins kinda…

love that rita and her mom are getting help

oh no, she’s so little :(

santos is on a very slippery slope with this langdon stuff

what is going on with this lady and her boss…

that influencer omg

ohhh okay, it’s trafficking. yikes.

this show is so fucking depressing

this poor baby’s gonna have so much survivors guilt

i hope they’re able to help the trafficking victim

the scene with bella and the teddy bear…

they wanna attend nicks funeral 🥹

that was a really beautiful honor walk

saddest episode so far

1x09

“you just gave a speech titled ‘how to literally bury your feelings.’” 😭

fauci zombie??? skdjgjd

langdon got that anti-masker so good lmao

“your little days are numbered, buddy” giggling

they need to get this david situation solved

THE PUPPY 💞

damn langdon got his ass handed to him

aw, i hope whitaker is able to help that man get his meds

mel with a dog!!! <3

mel being langdon’s favorite isn’t even surprising. the way he talk to her, looks at her, and checks in on her? and just the fact that she’s literally sunshine? i’d judge him if she wasn’t.

that javadi and mateo scene gave me so much secondhand embarrassment omg

i actually like santos and think she could be a great doctor if she just learned more and changed her “i know everything” attitude

oof mckay was biased and it almost cost the patient her life :/

crosby was going to TOWNNN on that rat 😭

DANA OH MY GOD

1x10

aw fuck i knew mckay was the one who reported david

“where should we put him?” “on the curb?” real

LMAO HE WAS JEALOUS OF MATEO

chad waxing poetic about mateo and his hair was so funny

omg eli from 911 hiiii

ooh ‘junkie’ touched a nerve

dana and collins 🫶🏼

yay their stroke patient is gonna be okay

“slow-mo, no mo!” samira mohan is Gods strongest soldier

mckay and mateo are definitely fucking

the secondhand embarrassment i keep getting from javadi is so strong oml

robby looks devastated ☹️

“could a drug addict do what i do?” same energy as the “could a depressed make this?” meme 😭

1x11

of course santos knows what the nurses are saying 😭

“i see hair :D” the silence, i’m crying

the ‘bonus mom’ shirt, oh my-

that is the fakest baby i’ve ever seen

had a feeling something would go wrong with the surrogate

“you’re trouble.” langdon being an addict is her fault how exactly…?

oh shit

the realization slowly dawning on robby that the baby was his 😯

“chad was severely injured.” “i wish.” honestly

“i’m digging my own grave. let me.” “i don’t have to give you the shovel.” whew.

i’m just waiting for it all to catch up to robby and cause a breakdown of some sort

“he didn’t say goodbye.” my shayla 😔

okay i know what langdon did was horrible and illegal and he deserves to be punished but i need him to come back because he’s the only one there who truly understands mel

if dana isn’t in season 2…🗡️

NO NOT HIS SON

1x12

i can tell this episode is gonna be really heavy

“prayers wouldn’t hurt.” neither would gun control.

ayyyye doctor abbott is back 😮‍💨

would be so crazy if david is the shooter

hell of a first day

“did you take the cuffs on myrna?” “hell no, that woman scares the shit out of me! keeps trying to bite me” 😭😭

LANGDON RETURNS 🙌🏼

“been to a million concerts, whatever happened to ‘peace and love’, man?” BUT REALLY

i just wanna know if jake is okay

“read the fucking room, mom!” YES, JAVADI

“you’re here!!” that’s her bestie

even in the middle of a mass casualty event, garcia and langdon still make sure to take jabs at each other 😭 that’s a real beef

santos throwing that guys phone in the blood soaked water djfjgks QUEEN SHIT

just when i thought i couldn’t love mel more

this is so stressful

1x13

the clown 😭

hits just keep coming for whitaker

my God

chad sucks

jake and lea 😟

samira is such a badass

poor jake and robby

NOAH WYLE WE’RE GETTING YOU THAT EMMY, YOU ARE A STAR

1x14

“fucking circus.” says the clown 😭

gloria had that crash out coming

“am i the only one who missed that day in medical school?” samira looking and sounding so genuine is sending me

if looks could kill santos would be dead rn

figured david wasn’t the shooter about right when he walked back on screen

if this dude says ‘quiet’ one more fucking time…

santos taking a bite of the kit-kat while looking that asshole reporting dead in the eyes oh she’s kinda everything

MEASLES??? *stefan voice* this show has everything!

okay well robby’s being pretty harsh to mckay about david and i don’t like it

i wanna give mel the biggest hug

fucking anti-vaxxers 😒

loved this arc but i’m never watching it again, it stressed me the hell out

1x15

so glad mckay didn’t actually get arrested

these parents are really pissing me off

hope santos doesn’t make a mistake cause she’s tired

i adore dana and would be so sad if she left but she deserves to rest

david needs a shit ton of help

well i think it’s safe to say that robby and langdon’s friendship is beyond repair :(

santos they could never make me hate you

“she really is a good mom.” no i don’t really think that’s true

the fork dkfjgnfjs

dana ❤️‍🩹

“see you monday.” oh no

whitaker omg 😭

santos and whitaker in their roommates era i did not see that coming

every time santos says ‘huckleberry’ i get maya hart flashbacks

robby deserves to leave and never come back

the king sisters have my entire heart

robby and abbott’s friendship means everything to me

“my therapist thinks i find comfort in the darkness.” 😭😭

dear God please get robby some therapy

THE RATS HELP

love the park scene very much

just realizing langdon left without saying goodbye to mel, again ☹️ i get why he didn’t, but still, i’m sad for my girl. and really curious about how that will impact their s2 dynamic.

i hesitated to watch this show cause after dealing with grey’s anatomy for a few years, i didn’t think i had it in me to invest in another medical show but i saw so many great things being said and i really like noah so i decided to just try watching the first episode and i am SO glad i did!!! the pitt might be the medical show of all time and i’m not even joking. can’t wait for s2 and to see them sweep at the emmy’s <3