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joeloverture · 5 months

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hook 'em horny | j.m. x f!reader

masterlist : coach!joel masterlist pairing: college football coach!joel miller x reader summary: [no outbreak] seeking petty revenge on your cheating quarterback ex-boyfriend leads you somewhere you shouldn't be — and then it lands you over the knee of his coach. warnings: (18+ mdni, don't make me say it again.) cheating done by a referenced oc, briefest mention of drugs, porn barely garnished with plot, age gap (22/52), smut, unprotected piv sex, creampie, vaginal fingering, potentially dubcon by way of power imbalance but consent is enthusiastic, daddy kink, sir kink, 'punishment' spanking, degradation, praise, brat tamer!joel, dom!joel, joel spits on her ass but otherwise no butt stuff, mild choking, body writing, so many pet names of so many varieties, aftercare, surprisingly fluffy [no use of y/n] word count: 6.4k a/n: this is a crazy idea to have considering joel can hardly handle ellie. i don't think he'd be able to handle ~118 college-aged boys. however, the idea of football coach! joel is hot to me (i mean, seriously, look at those sluts on the sidelines) so i made it happen. on a serious note, i am so sorry to the unnamed university this is based on. i toured you. i'm legacy. but... joel miller. let's make it clear this is for entertainment purposes only. this is a fictional work about fictional people that does not reflect the school itself, which is a fine institution whose head coaches historically do not fuck students in the locker rooms. shoutout to my dad who, unknowing what this information would be used for, explained to me how he snuck into this stadium 3x. don't do that, either.

You can’t even remember the last time you made a good decision.

Your track record definitely isn’t the cleanest: you chose to go to school in Texas, and then chose to stay there for four years. Choosing to go to that frat party in late junior year wasn’t your brightest moment, either, evidenced by the resulting hangover from hell and, predictably, frat flu. All things considered, those choices pale in comparison to hooking up with their all-star quarterback, Lucas Scott.

Dirty-blonde, blue-eyed, muscled Lucas Scott. He’s the sort of guy who looks like an eight when you’re looking at him after a few shots of tequila and a four when you’re sober. The sort of guy who, after over a year of dating, makes you split the bill halfway after ordering the more expensive entree. Crowned as the most efficient, precise, and instinctive quarterback the Longhorns have ever had. Apparently that instinct hadn’t been enough to drive him away from dipping his wick in every sorority girl’s candle wax.

No matter how much post-orgasm Lucas panted into his ear that he loved you, you weren’t stupid enough to trick yourself into believing it. Staying with him was the easier choice, not yet wanting to reduce yourself to locker room talk. Walking in on him sloppily fucking some redhead nursing major was the breaking point. When it became less about you and more about your dignity.

So, yeah, you’ve never been one for making good decisions, and you certainly aren’t about to start now.

You thought breaking into the stadium would be some sort of monumental task. Trespassing here was normally reserved for campus rooftops and after-hours exploration, but once you’d gotten this batshit crazy idea in your head, you knew it wasn’t going to shake until you at least proved it couldn’t be done.

The open garage at the back of the building doesn’t help to deter you. It’s like there’s a welcome-mat outside saying, ‘Come on in and get what you deserve!’.

Who would you be to decline such a sincere invitation?

The garage is empty apart from some cushy golf carts, and the steel door behind them couldn’t be more tempting. If it’s locked, you tell yourself, you’ll go back to the dorm and forget about your incident of near-trespassing.

You take small steps to the door, testing the handle. It springs right open, and all thoughts of leaving dissipate from your mind.

Who leaves the garage open and forgets to lock the door? Probably people with just as little between their ears (and legs) as Lucas. You scoff in half-disbelief, half-luck as you close the door behind you.

The energy feels stagnant this late at night, no announcer on the loudspeaker or swarms of burnt orange hats and T-shirts standing shoulder-to-shoulder. Industrial lights flicker above, their hums loud enough to make you wonder if you have tinnitus. Concrete lines the hallways, interrupted by a few silver-painted pipes arranged in a labyrinth up against the walls. A few security cameras are pointed at you. Before going any further, you pause to raise the hood of your Longhorns sweatshirt.

Even if you should be, you aren’t in much of a rush; you amble about, really taking in the sterile ambiance of the empty stadium. You turn a few corners, going in what feels like the right direction. You figure you’re getting closer when you spot what looks like it could be a security tower. Crouching behind a trash can, you wait it out, trying to peer through the untinted windows to figure out if there’s anyone in there at all. When you’ve determined it’s unmanned and let out a shallow exhale, you go back up to full posture and keep wandering around unsupervised.

You know you’re in the right place when you find your toes hovering over a red line painted on the oil-stained concrete: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY BEYOND THIS POINT.

Bingo.

Crossing that line without really thinking about it, you stick to your (so far) tried and true method of going wherever feels the most promising until you’re standing in front of the two black doors you were looking for. The door’s handle is an obnoxiously large longhorn, and you quite literally have to hook ‘em to get inside.

You’re starting to understand where the rest of the university’s funding is going when you walk into the locker room. After dating Lucas for a year, you know the football team is full of itself, but the Longhorniness of it all is… excessive. There’s the silhouette of the logo glowing on the goddamn ceiling, and if the jerseys the players are wearing on their digital nameplates isn’t enough of an indicator of who they play for, every backlit locker has a drawer with, you guessed it: a longhorn painted at the center. A brown vinyl couch wraps around the front of the room in direct view of a powered down videoboard that you can only assume replays highlight reels.

You roll your eyes. Again, your track record with decision-making isn’t the best, because you chose a school who puts every penny towards sweaty frat boys with brain damage from the amount of concussions they get.

And then you see it: a sign tacked onto the middle aisle of lockers that reads CORE VALUES. From top to bottom, HONESTY, TREAT WOMEN WITH RESPECT, NO DRUGS, NO STEALING, and NO WEAPONS. You have to physically clamp your jaw shut to restrict your laughter at the second one.

It doesn’t take you long to find what you’re looking for. Lucas Scott, #10.

His sweat-stained jersey hangs limply from the rack, and you eagerly tear it off, tossing it down onto the floor. Eager like a child ready to color outside the lines of a coloring book, you kneel down in front of it, pulling out the one thing you had prepared for tonight. A bold black Sharpie.

You pop the cap with your teeth, spitting it out somewhere on the floor as you start scribbling. Disguising your handwriting isn’t intentional, but you’re writing so carelessly and on such a foreign material that it comes naturally. Your tongue sticks out of the corner of your mouth as you work. In a year and a half, you’d never felt such satisfaction about — and certainly not from — Lucas.

TWO PUMP CHUMP along the side. FIVE INCHES FULL MAST on the other. CHEATER at the bottom. WHORE across the front.

A throat clears behind you. You drop the Sharpie, a blot of ink forming on the mesh. You startle backwards, scooting until your back hits that stupid longhorn drawer. You’re expecting a janitor, maybe a security guard if you’re extra unlucky.

That isn’t the worst of your options, apparently, because when you look up, it’s at Joel fucking Miller, head coach of the longhorn’s football team.

Your lower lip starts trembling, and that moment is when you decide maybe you need to start making good decisions. You’ve heard enough about Joel from Lucas to know he’s a total hardass. He could drag you by the ear to the dean and have you kicked out at the tail end of your second to last semester in this hellhole.

He glares down at you with his head cocked, hazel eyes far darker than they ever seem on TV. His scruff stipples his hardened jawline, lips thinned out like the worry lines pressed onto his forehead. If you were interested in digging yourself any deeper, you might stall to think about how good he looks: the faint trail of chest hair vanishing down into the neckline of his longhorns polo shirt, his fitted khakis, broad leather belt slung around his waist, and the slight bulge of tummy above it. You swallow hard and kick yourself for it.

“What exactly,” Coach Miller drawls, voice syrupy and sticky. “do ya think you’re doin’?”

Your mouth moves, but no words come out. He doesn’t seem very amused, his muscled arms crossing over his wide torso.

Joel shakes his head. “Ain’t a good look for you, hun, scrawlin’ that chicken scratch all over my QB’s jersey. Could get a real ugly charge for that.”

Heart crashing into your ribcage, you bite down on your lip. “I can pay the damages,” you blurt out.

He sizes you up all over again, eyes dragging up and down your body. They linger on your chest for a few extra seconds that you’re convinced that you just made up. “Can you, sugar? ‘Cause to me, looks like you’re the type to be chasin’ tips at whatever joint hires you.”

You don’t have the bandwidth to be as offended as you should be, especially because he’s right. You settle for glowering at him instead. A huff of laughter pinches out of him. “You give everyone you vandalize that blue look? Or is that lil’ number jus’ because you found out Lucas really ain’t that loyal?” With ease, Joel bulldozes over whatever thinning resolve you have remaining.

“What’s that sign over there say? ‘Treat women with respect’?” You say. Joel’s backlit like all of those over budgeted lockers behind him. You squint your eyes. “You know that’s fucking bullshit. So what if I give him a taste of his own medicine when he’s been a minute man for every girl with a pulse on this campus?” You cap your Sharpie and clip it back onto your collar and get to your feet. So much for good decisions. “Fuck right off with that.”

“Hey, hey. Down, hun.” Joel holds his hands out to you, and you notice just how heavily you’ve been breathing, just how close you are to him. “Never said you were wrong. Kid’s a fuck up in all sorts ‘a ways. But I don’t like how you’re mouthin’ off at me, Miss Priss. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re in dire need of a spankin’ to set you right.”

Your breath cuts short and your cunt bottoms out without your permission. You don’t need a mirror to know your eyes just went glassy, your lips parted as your mouth goes desert dry. As discreetly as you can manage, you squeeze your thighs together.

Joel doesn’t miss it. You can tell from the moment his brows raise and his eyes sparkle, the corner of his mouth picking up a smidge. “Oh, yeah? That do somethin’ for ya, hun? Nasty little girl.” There’s a dangerous, uneven grit to his voice that has arousal burning like a candle in your stomach, the wax of your arousal syrupy against your thighs already.

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips. Fuck.

“No,” you breathe out stubbornly, but you’ve already given yourself away, even to yourself. The insides of your thighs are molten, twitching with every throb of your clit between your legs. That flush of warmth from your pelvis is spreading, overheating.

Joel tuts. “You really think that? You can whine all you want ‘bout wantin’ respect, but at the end ‘a the day, you just wanna be treated like some whore, huh?” And, yeah, he has you figured out, has you in the palm of his hand. Even though you have no idea what someone like him could do to someone like you, you want him to do it. You want to find out. “I’ll tell ya what, sugar, you walk outta here right now and nobody but me’s gonna know you came pitchin’ a hissy fit in my locker room.”

You frown at that, a small arc of your pouty lips that has Joel’s eyes gleaming.

“Or,” he says. “You can pull those wet fuckin’ panties down – don’t gimme that look, I know they are – and I can give ya a real lesson in respect.” He shrugs, hands going to his waist as he looks you up and down.

He knows he has you the same way you know, but you aren’t just going to give in that easily. You flare your nose and counter, “If there’s nothing keeping me here other than a firm hand, why should I stay?”

He’s looking at you like he wants to take you apart. His fingers jump against his hips for the opportunity to break you down.

“Sweetness,” Joel shakes his head as if it’s obvious. “if you let me, I could make you feel good. I’m guessin’ you got some vibrator sittin’ in the back of your desk drawer to use when your roommate’s out ‘n about, but you don’t wanna use that tonight, do ya? You want the real thing, hun, and I’d give it to ya real nice once I teach ya to behave.”

There it is again: Coach Joel Miller has you all figured out. Every syllable he says is doomed to send another shiver up your spine, and damn it, fuck playing coy.

You’re too busy tearing off your hoodie to think about how unsexily dressed you are, but the rushed nature of your actions punches a chuckle out of Joel. “Eager thing.” You’re halfway through kicking your shoes and leggings off when he saunters over to the couch, plopping down on the edge and patting his broad, khaki-covered thigh. Your mouth waters when you look back and see just how much the fabric strains against his leg. “Whenever you’re ready, hun.”

You waddle over to him, stripped down to the basics of your sports bra and everyday panties. It’s the furthest thing from erotic, but the way he’s looking at you isn’t. It’s primal and ravenous, enough to have you forgetting all about how you’d even gotten there in the first place. He licks his lips as he trails his eyes all over you, darkening a couple of shades when he looks at your cleavage. “Lucas is a fuckin’ idiot, baby.”

“Knew that already,” you mumble.

He pats his thigh again, bounces his leg. “C’mon, over my knee like the good girl I know you can be. Hurry up and I’ll only give ya five.”

You shuffle forward, relishing in the rubbing of your thighs that comes from it. He’s sitting on the corner of the couch at the perfect angle for you to rest your head on the arm. It doesn’t take any more convincing for you to put yourself over his lap, not that he needed to do much in the first place. You feel so much smaller than him. Your ass is up for him to do whatever he’d like to; it’s a tantalizing feeling you hadn’t gotten out of any intimacy – if you could call it that — with Lucas.

“Mmmmmm,” Joel groans as he runs a hand between your legs. He rubs at your slit through the soaked gusset of your panties. You can’t stop the way your hips buck, or the pitiful shout that jumps off your lips when he pins you down by the small of your back, robbing you of any friction. Between one arousal-riddled breath and the next, Joel tugs your panties off and flings them to the side. You know how it feels, tacky and cold on your core and thighs, so you can only imagine how it must look. Joel gives you a pretty good idea when he reveres, “Goddamn, pretty cunt is throbbin’ for it.”

He pulls apart your folds and you think you hear him lick his lips above you before he lets them go. The schlick noise your dripping pussy makes is nothing less than pornographic. Joel gropes you carefully, kneads the skin of your ass like you have all the time in the world. Under his ministrations, it’s easy to melt into the couch, forgetting why you’re there in the first place until his palm cracks down on your ass cheek.

The stinging impact has a slurred hnnnngh leaving your lips, and a fresh gush of wetness between your legs to accompany it. You keep your head tucked into the sanctuary of your folded arms, eyes squeezed shut so tight you swear you’re seeing stars. Joel’s quick to rub the spanked patch of skin, his palm soothing his ache. “That’s one, baby.” You nod into your arms. “Think you can take four more?” Another nod.

“I need to hear ya, hun. C’mon, head up f’me.” He taps the side of your cheek, and you prop your cheek up on your forearm. “Think you can take four more?” he repeats.

Your voice hitches, courtesy of the beating that echoes in your chest and between your legs. “Y-yes…”

When the second hit lands, you don’t expect it. You flinch away from his hand when it comes down with a clap that leaves you squirming in his lap. “Yes, what?”

“Yes sir,” you whine out, back arching. Although a punishment, that spank has the same effect as the last: a live wire of arousal strung from your spine to your cunt.

“Takin’ it well,” he praises, squeezing your ass cheeks together. “Sure didn’t expect anyone to come crawlin’ in when I left that garage open, ‘specially not some slut like you with an ass that needs a spankin’ six ways to Sunday.” Just as quick as he can build you up, he can take you down a notch, but you can’t mind when it has you moaning all the same. “Oh, she likes that,” Joel clicks.

He rubs your ass again, and you’re bracing yourself for that next strike, pulled stiff with an arousing, anticipatory sort of fear. Only when you convince yourself it isn’t coming do you let all of that tension flood out of your body — and that’s when Joel smacks his hand across your far-too-trustworthy ass.

You cry out, pouting over your shoulder at Joel, who has a proud smirk drawn all over his face. You don’t even feel your hips rocking down, seeking whatever pleasure you can get until he reprimands, “Ruttin’ against my fuckin’ leg, now, huh? Don’t pretend you don’t like this.”

With a particularly good grind of your hips, you feel his bulge pressing into your thigh. From a mere graze alone, you can tell it’s huge. A whimper tears out of you at the same time he groans above you. “You got nothin’ to prove, ain’t gonna change the fact you’re a slut who needs to get spanked ‘n stuffed to talk ‘er into behavin’ a bit.”

“Can’t even follow your own rules,” you huff, apparently still interested in shooting yourself in the foot even when Coach Miller has you ass-up over his knee.

“Don’t see how you care…” Joel slides a hand down between your legs. He rubs at your clit, an intense pressure that has you wanting more and less all at the same time, before dragging a thick finger across your opening. Arousal squelches between your legs and your hips jump – a dead giveaway to just how turned on you are, whether you like it or not. “when it gets you this turned on,” he finishes. Then that same finger is prodding at your mouth, glistening with your wetness. You whimper before tasting yourself, sucking obediently on his finger until he pulls away with a pop.

You sulk, “Don’t act like I can’t feel you ripping a hole in your jeans, Miller–”

The fourth spank is the hardest by far. The skin of your ass feels bitten by Joel’s ‘firm hand’. It’s the kind of hit that makes your legs kick in his lap and your fingers clutch in the couch’s arm for purchase. You wail, “Daddy!” Pain disappears from your mind when you realize what exactly you just said, quickly replaced by the churning coolant of embarrassment. If you were paying attention to anything else other than the shame suddenly inhabiting your chest, you might’ve been able to feel the twitch of his cock in his pants.

“Daddy, huh?” Joel hums, rubbing your hurt ass with one hand while the other strokes your shoulder. You bury your face back in your arms as an apology takes shape in the back of your throat. “Lucas your daddy, too?”

“No!” You squeak, adjusting in his lap. The hood of your clit catches on the rough material of Joel’s pants. Unable to stop yourself, you hump his knee again, shallow rolls of your hips. You can still feel his hardness against you. Needily, you tip your head up, panting as foggy pleasure hangs over your head.

“Stop makin’ a mess of daddy’s dress pants, baby, unless you wanna be on your knees, lickin’ it up.” You keen, and he chuckles knowingly. “Shoulda known, little whore like you gets off on that.”

Joel gives you a longer reprieve between the fourth and fifth spank. Instead, he strokes your ass and asks, “One more gonna be enough to set you straight, sweetheart?”

“Y..yes daddy,” you whimper. He hums in approval.

You shift back and forth, waiting for it to come — and when it does, it’s softer. It’s by no means a love pat, but it pales in comparison to his previous work. You still sniffle, squeezing your thighs together as he coos, “I know, I know. Poor baby, actin’ all high ‘n mighty. Can’t be on her high horse when she’s over Daddy’s knee.” Gentle, he pats your ass and guides you on all fours at the edge of the couch. He hums in approval. “See? Not throwin’ a hissy fit anymore. She’s all nice ‘n obedient when you get ‘er to act right.”

Joel spreads your pussy with his thumbs, and you hear the vulgar noise of him collecting his saliva before you feel his spit landing on your clenching hole. You’ve never felt so empty, not when your bottom drawer vibrator is buzzing against your core, definitely not when Lucas fucks you in the same old missionary. Whimpering for him, you arch your back to try to rub against his crotch.

“Quit your whinin’,” he snips, his thumb finding your clit in one swipe. Joel’s touch is firm, but not too firm, just enough to make your hips push down with a need only he’s ever made you feel.

Without warning, his middle finger slides inside of you, thick and calloused and so, so right. “Fuckin’... tight.” Another slides in as he starts scissoring you open, apparently satisfied enough when he crooks his fingers deep in your cunt. Instantly, he catches that spongy spot that you can never reach on your own. You nearly crumple with the sensation, limbs going weak and buckling. “That the spot?” he asks, but he already knows.

“Mhm,” you moan, chin instinctively tucking against your chest as if you can get away from the pleasure he’s giving you, as if you’d ever want to.

Then — he stops.

His fingers sit heavy inside of you, so close to where you need them to go. “What the fuck, Joel?”

"Baby, s’that how you get what you want?” He rubs your thigh with his free hand and gives it a quick swat. “Help daddy out, tight girl. I'm not just gonna let you get away with bein’ a spoiled brat. Work yourself on my fingers."

You’re putty in the palm of his hand – malleable, docile for him to treat or mistreat you however gets him hard. You whine, punching your hips back nonetheless. Grinding down, down, down, your cunt unresisting when he gives you another finger. It’s crude, the way you moan for him.

Even though he’s hardly doing anything, just the hand you’re getting yourself off on, that all-consuming strain in your body only gets stronger. “Daddy – close, please…”

“Attagirl, atta-fuckin’-girl, give it to me.” He rewards you with a press of his fingers against that golden spot inside of you. Your orgasm splinters through you, an ecstasy-charged mist fanning over your body. Your release runs down Joel’s hand and your thighs with every clench of your cunt, like you’ve been skinned and set ablaze by your own desire. You fall forward on the couch, no longer able to hold yourself up, arms a tangled mess as you gasp into the cushion. “You come so pretty, baby. Messy pussy, too. Soaked me up to my goddamn elbow.”

You’re still reeling from the best orgasm you’ve had in months, maybe ever, when you hear obscene slurping noises from behind you. You cast a look at him, your arousal returning with a vigor at the sight of Joel sucking his fingers clean. He groans at the taste, and you swear you see his cock jump in his khakis. Stomach warped with desire, you’re about to plummet off of the very dangerous edge of doing just about anything for him right now.

“Please fuck me, daddy,” you plead, and in any other position, with any other person, it might be mortifying, something worth clutching your pearls over. But this is Coach Joel Miller, the last person you ever expected to be fucking, giving you the best fuck you never expected.

“There’s those manners,” Joel praises, leaning over you to press a brief kiss to your shoulder blade. You can smell your release on his lips, a sweet smell that’s so distinctly you. He eases off of you, presumably to take off his pants. There’s the shuffling of fabric, and when he returns to your side, you’re disappointed to find he hasn’t even unbuckled his belt.

You pout at him again, still desperate to get your way. Eye-level with his bulge, you’re salivating over it. You had made a mess of his dress pants, a wet spot formed just above his knee, taunting you. You lick your lips.

“Think it’s only fair,” he says, looming over you. He’s holding the Sharpie you’d brought along with you. Your brows furrow as you look up at him through your lashes. “If I give ya the same treatment you gave his jersey.” His gaze is cocky as he pops the cap with his thumb, giving the marker a twirl.

Oh.

It shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does. Nothing about this should turn you on as much as it does, yet here you are, in a puddle of your own sweat and cum, itching for the next thing he gives you. And if it’s marking up your body before he fucks your brains out, so be it.

He nudges his head, gesturing for you to get down on your stomach. You lift your knees up and flatten yourself out on the cushions. The vinyl sticks and pulls from your skin as you get where he wants you. A soft, surprised noise leaves you when he straddles your thighs, his clothed cock nudging at your seam.

“Holy fuck,” you breathe out, because it’s the only phrase you can think of that even holds a candle to what all of this has become.

A laugh fans out from under his breath as he starts at your freshly spanked, raw ass. The Sharpie is cold and foreign, tugging at your skin as he inks you up. “Gotta make sure you match before I dick you down, don’t I? What is it you wrote on his jersey? ‘Whore’? Between the two ‘a ya, I woulda put my money on you for that one.”

If that wasn’t enough indication, you figure out what he’s doing by the time he gets to the right cheek, what feels like an ‘R’ taking shape across your ass. He finishes the ‘E’ and sets down the Sharpie for a moment, his meaty palms spreading your ass. It still thrums with the afterglow of his spanking. You don’t think you can throb any more than you already are, but then he spits on you for the second time that night, this time landing it on your puckered asshole. A gasp flutters from your lips as you grind down into the couch, his spit dripping down your folds.

“See? Real whorish, fuckin’ my couch.” He taps your ass for good measure. “Asshole makes a perfect fuckin’ ‘O’, baby. Looks a whole lot better than that chicken scratch shit you put on his jersey.” You think maybe, just maybe, he’ll dismount you and pull his cock out, but instead he keeps writing, scribbling on your back and upper thighs. Every pull of your skin under the bleeding ink has you aching for him.

When he’s content with his work, he lifts off of you, hands fumbling to undo his belt. It snaps apart, dangling open around his waist as his hands open up his khakis. “You let Lucas fuck that sweet lil’ cunt raw?” he asks.

“No, I don’t,” you admit, unable to tear your eyes away from his cock as he pulls it out, and fuck you. Your eyes don’t even feel big enough to take all of him in, and you have no idea how you’re going to fit him between your legs. You almost go cross-eyed at the sight of it, his head leaking precum.

“Thought so. You gonna let me fuck it raw?”

“Yes, daddy,” you breathe out, drool pooling in your mouth at the thought of having him inside of you, having him inside of you bare. Yet another thing you never gave to Lucas in a year of disappointing sex, but are eagerly giving up to Joel.

“Gotta be a real nasty slut,” Joel says, returning to his place atop your thighs, his thick ones framing yours. Your breath hitches when you feel the weight of his cock gliding through your ass cheeks and down to your cunt. “to let your ex-boyfriend’s coach bareback ya in the locker room.” A heady gasp tears from you when the head of his cock bumps your clit. He teases you — his cock, slippery with a combination of your arousal, skating from your clit to your spasming opening, not quite nudging in.

“Daddy, please – I need it… need you to fuck me, fuck me–”

He doesn’t make you wait any longer.

When he pushes in, it knocks the air out of your lungs. The only proof that you’re still breathing is when you let out a pitchy, desperate moan. Joel grunts, teeth gritted as he flattens himself down against your spine so he can roll his hips into yours. The pain of his size becomes an afterthought just as quickly as the pain of your spanking, dwarfed by the pleasure he gives you just as easily.

“Fuuuuck,” Joel groans, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and shoulder. Inch at a time, he works you open, grinding his hips into your opening. “Could you be any goddamn tighter?” He bites at your neck from behind with every rock of his hips into yours until he bottoms out.

“Big,” is all you manage to squeak out as he hauls you back on his cock, already prodding your g-spot with his head. Your eyes roll back as you clench around him.

His fingers go up to run circles around your shoulder, soothing you, grounding you when his cock has you anything but. “Mmm, I know, I know. You can take it. All whores can.” With that, Joel starts fucking you, really fucking you, a punishing, relentless pace where he pulls out entirely before filling you to the brim. Each snap of his hips into yours fills the locker room with shameless sounds, the mere background to your depraved moans.

“Never had your pussy stretched by a man double your age before, huh?”

“N–no! Never… never had my pussy stretched mu…much at all–”

Joel slams into you, laughs at the strained noise that you make. “Yeah? Those dumbfucks on my team not doin’ it for ya, baby?” You don’t answer, don’t think he’s expecting one until his hand wraps around your front, forearm pressed firm against your tits. His thick hand wraps lightly around your neck, jostling you. It’s not hard enough to blur your vision, but just hard enough to remind you of the power he has over you. The power you allow him to have. It’s invigorating. Everything about him is.

Moans spurt out of you as you fumble to answer, “No da– daddy! You — ah! — do it for m–me!”

“And what do you say for that? For goin’ outta my way to show you what a real fuck is?”

“Thank you, Daddy!” you cry out. You’re spilling down his thighs, the wet suction of your pussy around his cock making noises more vulgar than you’ve ever heard in porn.

His hand squeezes again at your neck, and you feel floaty, a bubble just waiting to pop. Pleasure dances in every one of your veins, every nerve ending burning like a match that he keeps striking ablaze.

“There you go, desperate slut just needs a freshly spanked ass, a good dickin’ down, and a hand ‘round her throat to behave.” Joel’s pace stays just as harsh, crushing your g-spot with his cock. “Should keep you back here for when we lose, tie you to the goddamn desk. Let my staff take turns with you, see how much crybaby you have left in ya when a dozen men’s loads are drippin’ outta your reamed fuckin’ cunt. Bet you like it when men use you.” The whine that almost gags you on its way out is enough to confirm it.

If he keeps talking to you and the wind blows the right way on your clit, you know you’ll be coming. You’re wringing out his cock with every flutter of your pulsing pussy. The beginning embers of your orgasm turn into a wildfire when he wedges his free hand down between your legs, rubbing messy circles into your sloppy clit. “Fuck, please, please, please,” you sob out, too riddled with pleasure to care about how pathetic you sound or look as you hump his hand while he pounds you.

“Can feel you squeezin’ me, baby.” Joel rasps, nipping at your ear. The hand around your throat falls fully to your chest, pressing you solid against him so he can fuck deeper, deeper, deeper. It’s enough to make you scream, hands clawing and scratching down his muscular grip on you. “C’mon, hun, give it to me, come on my cock, fuck.”

With another thrust, he has you pushed right down onto his fingers, rubbing and flicking you every which way. It’s all you need to come undone, your second orgasm of the night unlatching through you like something forked and angry, battering your sore limbs until there’s nothing left of it or you. You’re a mess, spit oozing down your chin as you slur “thank you daddy” like a broken record, thighs clamping around nothing.

Joel groans as you clench around his cock and continues his relentless pace, hips slapping against yours. The hand he’d been using to rub your clit migrates to your tits, grazing and then thumbing and then tugging lightly your nipples. “There it is, told ya you could be a good girl. Lettin’ your daddy use this cunt to get off, lettin’ me use you. I’m fuckin’ close, baby, where do you want me?”

And you want it even if you shouldn’t, want his cum deep inside of you, want it to leak out into your panties as you walk back to your dorm. You’re still no good at making decisions, too fucked out to tell right from left when you beg, “I–inside, fuck, come inside me, daddy, please.”

Joel practically growls at that, thrusts losing their steadiness as his hips jump and he hurtles towards his release. “Yeah, you’re a goddamn whore, beggin’ for this cum. And you’re gonna fuckin’ take it, yeah… fuckin’ take it.” He slams all the way into you for the last time before shooting his cum into your cunt, swearing and moaning. Breathing like he’s run a mile, he goes slack on top of you, pets the back of your head while he comes down from the exhilaration of his high.

With a gentle kiss to your shoulder, he rises, and the fantasy is over. His cock slips from your pussy, and you feel hollow with the loss. This is where he tucks himself back into his pants, runs a hand back through his hair, tells you to never show your face in his stadium again, and shoves you out the door.

And he does: tucks his softening cock into his boxers, zips up his khakis, does his belt, tames his post-sex head of hair. You wince even if you expected it, leaning down over the edge of the couch to grab your hoodie, already moving to tug it over your head.

“What do you think you’re doin’?” Joel asks, and his tone sounds much more different than the first time he’d asked you. He sounds offended. You blink confusedly, dazedly at him with your arms halfway through the armholes. “Let me clean you up, hun.” Joel side-steps the pile of your leggings and shoes, adjusting the hoodie on your arms and pulling it down your torso. “I know Lucas ain’t done you right, but you deserve to be taken care of, pretty girl.” Your heart pinches in a way that it shouldn’t, not for a hookup with your ex-boyfriend’s coach.

You shift, and he can’t help but look back between your legs where his cum escapes your hole. He manages to pry his eyes away, but not without licking his lips first. “I’ll be right back, baby. Promise.”

When he’s back, it’s with a damp rag. He crouches down in front of you, taking it to the apex of your thighs and wiping away the combination of your releases, careful not to nudge your sensitive clit. He kisses your thigh gently before pulling back, folding the towel on the arm of the couch you’d been crying into just a few minutes ago.

Joel shimmies your ruined panties up your thighs, followed by your leggings. You let him, breath cut like a snipped wire from the sheer intimacy of it all, intimacy you’d lacked with Lucas even after a year of trying. You’d stayed with him for comfortability at your own expense. How stupid could you have been?

Joel pats your knee, eyes soft and weirdly sincere as he looks at you. “I’m sorry about Lucas, honey, but I meant it when I said you deserve to be taken care of.” He rubs the back of his neck before holding something out to you. A business card, his work number plastered in bold sans-serif font across the bottom. “I know this is in reverse ‘n all, but I’d really like to take you out and treat you right, if you’ll let me.”

Saying yes is your first good decision in a while.

#vetty's words 𓇢𓆸 #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller/reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller/f! reader #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic

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dejwrld · 4 months

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⤷‧₊˚ hiromi higuruma helps his bratty sub study for her bar exam.

┊ •° ੈ ⋆° ┊ warning readers discretion is advised — black reader with descriptors, female anatomy described, her/she pronouns, usage of y/n, reader is a law student, mentions of reader being the child of a judge, mentions of law, dom!hiromi, sub!reader, reader described to be very feminine and bratty, no cursed au, dom x sub dynamic, usage of toys (vibrating panties), oral (reader receiving), pet names (good girl, doll), mentions of pubes, praise kink (academical), bonus after care scene, written in third pov (hiromi’s), mdni

sticky note from deja — sometimes i think about dom hiromi higuruma and just sigh happily.

Hiromi passed his bar exam with flying colors. He didn’t do study groups. Simply studied alone and prioritized his time to balance being a law clerk, studying, and socializing to ensure a law firm hired him. But this woman didn’t do any of that and frankly, he was even shocked that she still wanted to pursue law at all. She graduated from law school with a high GPA, and wonderful recommendations from amazing professors, and her father was a prominent judge. Many can assume that her pretty looks and her legacy surname got her where she is today, but Hiromi has observed her in her element and when she was in her element she was a beast.

So the older lawyer had no clue why she came to him with law books in her arm, her tote bag slung on her shoulders—tight coils sprawled on her head like a crown, and a tight suede tracksuit on as if she was stepping into her law class. But of course, when she had a problem, she came to him. When she needed a quick nut, she came to him. Needing someone to vent about when it came to her class rival, she came to him. Now it seemed she needed help studying for the exam and who did she come to, him.

But as an hour and thirty minutes went by, the young woman was not soaking up the information that Hiromi was going over. His eyes bored into the notebook, flashcards, and textbooks scattered across his desk. She watches as she twirls her pink pen around her fingers reading over the notes she jolted down, but he can just tell by the crinkle of her eyebrows that the information wasn’t going through that thick skull of hers. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe she knew the information because she did. But he doubted she’d remember it for the exam. He leaned back into his comfortable black desk chair trying to rack his brain with a better studying technique before eventually he got an idea. An imaginary light bulb lit up over the top of the lawyer’s head.

“I think I have an idea.” He spoke out, causing her to stop her highlighting—which he was hoping she would do because the scent of the highlighter was already giving him a headache simply because she just had to have scented ones.

This one smells like strawberries, smell it? Those were her exact words forty-five minutes ago as he was going over some laws on family laws.

“Will it help me feel like the information I’m consuming is sticking and staying in my brain?”

“Possibly,” was the only thing Hiromi answered before pulling himself out of his seat and disappearing from his office.

It was three things the woman that sat across from him enjoyed. Shopping, her father’s credit card, and sexual pleasure. If Hiromi had any more knowledge of psychology, he would have labeled Y/N as a nymphomaniac.

When returned with the red velvet box, he sat the box on the table and she perked up happily, possibly thinking that this was a sparkly diamond necklace for her.

“A gift? Aw, this definitely will help.” Her plush glossed lips spread into a smile. She claps her hands together in excitement sitting up in the chair.

“It’s not a necklace, doll.” He points out. She opened the box revealing the black lace underwear that had a vibrator inside of them.

He was going to use these at their anniversary dinner as a sub and dog duo, but he guessed he had to come up with another idea to make their dinner interesting. His gloomy eyes watched as her eyes lit up like fuckin’ fireworks. His assumption was right. He watches as she simply stands up ready to remove her underwear eagerly.

“I do think a quick sex session will help me focus a bit more. This is why I came to you. At first, I was going to join that one guy who knows Nanami's study group, but in my mind—I just knew you would have a better study idea.” She giggled as her hand went to untie her tracksuit bottoms to change into the other panties.

“No, we’re not doing that. Put the panties on and sit back down.” He scattered around his desk to give her time to change into the vibrating panties.

He thought she was going to argue against what he said, but she didn’t. As quiet as can be, she’s shuffling to remove her underwear and replace it with the sexual treat that Hiromi graced upon her. While she changed, Hiromi was looking for the notebook that he used when he was studying for his bar exam. He knew it had a bunch of mock bar exam questions on there and thought they would help. When he found the book, he walked back to his desk and Y/N sat patiently waiting for him, she went back to reading her textbook without a care.

Hiromi removed the box from the table, placing it on the ledge behind him after he grabbed the remote. He slammed the notebook on the table that looked like it’s been through centuries of war. He liked keeping it because it showed how far he had come from a law student to one of the best lawyers in the city. He skimmed through the pages before finding a page he wanted to start on.

“A defendant is being prosecuted for conspiracy to possess methamphetamine with intent to distribute. At trial, the government seeks to have its agent testify to a conversation that he overheard between the defendant and a co-conspirator regarding the incoming shipment of a large quantity of methamphetamine. That conversation was also audiotaped, though critical portions of it are inaudible. The defendant objects to the testimony of the agent on the ground that it is not the best evidence of the conversation.” He pauses briefly to look at Y/N across from him. “Is the testimony of the agent admissible?”

He watches as she brings her French tip manicured finger to her chin to think. He had a feeling she knew the answer, she told him about the paper she had done about admissible evidence. But as he watches her shoulders go upward and downward in an ‘I don’t know’ manner, Hiromi lets out a sigh before pressing the remote. The silence in his office was disrupted by the sound of the vibration. He watches as she jerks forward provocatively. He leans back in his seat.

“You know the answer to this, stop being a smart ass.” Hiromi’s slender fingers toyed with the small remote watching as she was withering forward in attempting to mask her moan.

“It’ll be admissible,” She breathes out.

“Why?” Hiromi asked.

For a quick second, he can see a glint of sexual frustration in her eyes. This was the first sexual encounter in a while due to him restricting them from it. He had a huge case coming up and she had to study for the bar exam. Sex would cloud their judgment on the tasks they had to do.

“The best evidence rule does not require proof of the conversation through the audiotape.”

He presses the button on the remote making the vibrator stop. “Good girl. I knew you knew that.” His lips crack a smile and he watches as she recomposes herself.

“Next question.” Hiromi flips through the pages in his notebook. “Hypothetically thinking, say a person broke into a closed building to solely seek refuge due to a snowstorm. Can this person be convicted of burglary if that’s her defense?” His fingers were itching to press the button, but he had to hear her answer first.

“No.”

“Why? Come on baby, you know they’re going to ask why?”

“I’m not sure, let me think.”

It didn’t take long before Hiromi pressed the button. Her moans echoed within the study while clasping her thighs closed to engulf the sudden vibration from the panties she wore. She falls back into the seat across from him and her body arches off of it briefly before she’s finally croaking out an explanation.

“Burglary requires the intent to commit a crime upon entering a building and seeking shelter from a storm is not a criminal act. So, this hypothetical person can validate her claim.”

“That’s right. You’re doing amazing with these questions. Just need it to stick in your brain, that’s all.” He reassures Y/N with a smile.

The quizzing went on for about thirty minutes, but Hiromi had lost track of time when he felt how tight his cock felt in his slacks. He was sure she had orgasmed multiple times from the vibrating panties just by the way her eyes drooped, her body slouching in the leather seat she was in, and the fact that he could see her hardened nipples through the sports bra after she had unzipped the hoodie of her tracksuit. She had this tendency where if he wasn’t touching her during little sessions, she had to touch herself. Which she did, right across from him—each time he flicked the remove on causing the vibrating on her pussy, she'd pinch her marbled nipples while uttering out a response to a random law question.

“I think you deserve a break for today. You still have the weekend to study,” He pointed out as he tossed the remote back into its box. “Come here.”

She’s hesitant at first and Hiromi can tell just by the way her lips part to argue and her eyebrows frown together. She wasn’t sure if she should cave and come forward or stay put just to feel the vibrating in between her thighs again. She knew that he knew she always defied him in some way just to get a rise out of him, but today—it seems her head was screwed on right. After all, Hiromi didn’t have to help Y/N study. Helping her study wasn’t a part of the contract, but he did—in such an odd sexy manner that caused her to be soaked between her thighs.

As she tiptoed around the wooden desk, she was peeling off her clothes so provocatively that Hiromi couldn’t help but swallow the harsh knot that formed in his throat. He couldn’t wait for himself to be buried so far in between her sumptuous thighs that the only thing he could smell on his top lip was her essence. Hiromi spread his muscular thighs so that she could take place between them—looking down at him like she was Aphrodite and he was a man that she had just placed under a spell due to her elegance. His hand grabs her waist letting his hands caress every bump and curve of her body that he was obsessed with. From the stretch marks that decorate her mahogany skin to the small mole that was right near her belly button.

“You drive me fuckin’ insane,” Hiromi finds himself saying. His dark eyes scan at how her lips spread into a grin.

He grabs her, placing her on his desk without a sweat. The sound of textbooks and notebooks echoed through the office as he pulled himself further under the table. Her legs gaped so provocatively that in Hiromi’s mind, the Lady Justice statue on the shelf on his left probably wanted to clutch her pearls. Hiromi placed subtle kisses on her legs starting from her ankle which was decorated bejeweled with a diamond anklet.

“You’re stalling. You know how much I want you right now, and you’re stalling.” The law student breathes as she leans back on the weight of her arms.

Hiromi watches as her chest begins to rise rapidly with each kiss growing closer to her pussy. Her words went into one ear and out the other for the lawyer and when he was finally face to face with what his mouth salivated for, his eyes met with hers. Her eyes were pleading for something. A kiss. A nibble. A lick. Hell, even a blow. Anything to soothe the aching feeling on her clit. Y/N’s hand went down to palm at the wetness in between her thighs, so eager and impatient—but the stern lawyer stopped her.

“Don’t fucking touch yourself, Y/N.” He commands.

And there goes the tone she was longing for. Oh, that authoritarian tone that made her pussy clench when he used it. She relaxes under his touch and lets him do his work. “If you’re going to take so long, I might as well finish off by myself.” Y/N comments.

“You talk so much, do you love hearing yourself talk?”

“And you are doing so much talking for a man whose mouth should be stuffed with my pus—”

Her words were interrupted by the feeling of Hiromi’s tongue dragging upon her panties. He pulled them to the side swiftly and finally was granted what he wanted all along. The flat of his tongue licks up her pussy lips collecting her juices like a man that was deprived of water for days. He moans at the taste of her and his hands grab at her waist to pull her closer. His eyes flutter close as he’s lapping at her puffy pussy lips at the sound of her moans. Her fingers entangled in his hair as her hips grind against his face. She wasn’t sure what was turning her on more. The way his face was buried into her pussy or how attractive it looked as his nose was nuzzling against her pubes.

“Fuck.” She moans out, her toes curling at the feeling of his tongue flicking her clit.

Hiromi detaches himself from her briefly, peppering soft kisses on her trembling thighs before devouring her whole again. The thing about Hiromi is that he knew how her body would react to certain things. He knew how her pussy clenched around his cock when he gave her neck a little squeeze. He knew that she was in between a squirter and creamer depending on the task. Squirting when he’s fingering her with a vibrator practically glued upon her clit. Creamer when he’s forcing orgasm after orgasm out of her after begging him to cum inside her (but to Hiromi, having his cum inside her is merely a privilege). So of course, he knew using his tongue to trace alongside the drooling entrance of her pussy was going to have her pushing herself forward for more. The mere feeling of his tongue invading her in such a manner that had her a trembling and whimpering mess was something Hiromi knew about her.

Hiromi lets out a moan at how good she tastes. The taste of Y/N has graced his tongue countless times and he still ate her out as if it was the best meal he has tasted. With each squirm in his arms, he’s flicking his tongue slower on her clit. With each moan of his name that slips by her plush lips, he’s granting her more licks and sucks. He wanted to see her come undone right here. He could feel it just by the way her thighs were poorly attempting to entrap his head by shutting them.

He lets out an annoyed sigh after he removes himself from her pussy, “Do you want to cum, Y/N?”

“I do. I want to cum.” She whines.

“Then fuckin’ act like it.”

Y/N obediently nods, her snarky comment jammed into her throat before she let Hiromi spread her thighs even wider than what they were before. Her clit throbbing to be in his mouth again and he graciously granted her wish. Like a deprived man, Hiromi snuggled his nose back into her pubes as if he belonged there. Y/N was aware that Hiromi knew she was about to cum. He had this tendency to hold onto her as if she would turn into dust in his arms—as if he didn’t want to let her go. That’s what he was currently doing as her orgasm was spilling over. One hand gripping her in place (that she knew would leave a bruise) and the other palming his hardened cock through his pants.

Just with the flick of his tongue, an explosive feeling causes Y/N to let out a dragged-out moan. Her back lays back on the desk as Hiromi’s tongue helps her ride out the orgasm. Her French pedicured toes curl at the feeling of that fiery pit in her stomach shattering so intensely it brought tears to her eyes. Her fingers tugged at his black strands of hair as if they were a handle holding her up from falling. When she heard him remove himself from her with a pop, Hiromi leaned back in his seat with a huge satisfied grin on his face.

After Y/N came down from the euphoria of cumming in Hiromi’s mouth, she sat up on her elbows with a pleased look on her face. She knew after any sexual intercourse with the high-profile lawyer, he just had to include aftercare in the special package. He may have gotten off at the thought of seeing her tied up with rope, handcuffed to his headboard, or mouth gagged with his cock—but he was very serious when it came to aftercare. The two soon settled for a bath to end the evening. The warmth of the water engulfed their bodies as they were in the large bathtub filled with scented soap and rose petals. Hiromi’s head fell back to be met with the marbled tile and he let out a relaxing sigh, the scent of Y/N lingering on his upper lip and tongue.

“I have a confession to make..” Y/N leans further back on him, relaxing under the warmth of both the water and Hiromi’s body.

“Hm.” He hums lightly letting his eyes flutter back open.

“I’m actually well prepared for the bar exam. Took a practice bar exam a week ago and according to my professor—if it was the real one, I would have passed.” She happily sighs letting her fingers play with the bubbles in the tub.

“What?” Hiromi glares at the back of her head with a displeased look.

“I woke up this morning with a student and tutor sex fantasy, silly.”

“You will be the death of me.”

⤷‧₊˚ cuties that wanted to be tagged | @tojiscumdumpster @salaciousdoll @thithesandofferings @tachibannaa @shinsousliya @sinistersnakey1427 @gothogue @rhionnajones @jamaicanqueenaa @dxmb-luv @0hmyg0th @ryukenzz @dancingwithdeities @getosbunny @hvly @racconwarrer @aiyaaayei @torapologist @strawhatsav @msdrpreist @neesieiumz @strawberrymuffinlovin @consternat1on @photosbyameil

thanks for reading. <3

#hiromi higuruma x reader #hiromi higuruma smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #female reader #anime x reader #anime smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #black reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x black reader #⊹˳⁺ ♡ 𝒻𝒶𝓃𝒻𝒾𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒸𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈

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diejager · 5 months

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Technical Issues Cw: smut, sex work, OnlyFans, porn, fuck machine, squirting, prostitution handjob, tell me if I missed any.

Part3

It started with a reluctant alliance between SpecGru and KorTac, two powerful PMCs that were tricked by the same employer, played and played again, unable to work alone to take them down. So both heads of the PMCs decided to work together to take down this problematic employer, which meant that they’d have to come and go between bases, sharing the same space and the same area. They were unenthusiastic about it, still holding a grudge against the other.

There was a technical issue in giving access to KoTac members sent over to the British base the right clearances for the compiled data, to-know intel and the statistics. That’s how König found himself in the database, looking up the different clearance codes to give him access to the information he needed before 1900, he only had half an hour to find the code if he didn’t want to miss the event.

Unfortunately, all he stumbled into was a page, a familiar name popping up on this person’s browser history. It was Soap’s. Sergeant John “Soap” MacTavish, the snipe and demolition specialist that König knew from both experience and intel. It was a strange find, Soap had used a public browser to watch his nightly activities and had forgotten to wipe it clean —did he even wipe his history? Something ugly flared in König’s chest, an explosive warmth of possession and envy. How could’ve he not seen him on the chat when König spent so much time on it himself?

With dilated pupils and a one-track mind, he completed his search and rushed to his room, pushing past everyone he met in the hall with his broad shoulders and even bigger ego, nostrils flaring and seeing red. He knew this kind of reaction was nonsensical, near illogical on his par, seeing the type of content he consumed, but he couldn’t help it, he was the second highest payer.

Slamming and locking the door behind him, he ripped his mask off, throwing it haphazardly on the floor and ripped his clothes off, his skin hot to the touch in his cold room. It was 1857 —perfect. Settling himself on his temporary desk in nothing but his briefs, he felt his cock struggle against the fabric, head poking out on the side of his boxers. He was quick to open up the right tab, clicking in the sweet temptation of the profile picture.

A screen popped out, a familiar bed in a familiar setting with familiar objects surrounding the plush sheets, and in the middle, sat the little cherub of his dreams. Seraphim, the little slut that he was happy to spend his legacy on, to watch and indulge in the sinful act jerking off to a woman he might never meet or know outside of this screen. He pushed his waistband down his thighs and his cock swung out, hanging low between his legs, veins pulsing with the rush of blood from his head to his cock and uncut head drooling on his chair.

👑 gifted you 100$

“Hello, sir,” you smiled so sweetly at him, glossy lips pulled into an innocent image, “Thank you for the gift.”

He always gave you a gift at the start of each live he watched to get a greeting from you and would gift you much more with ever minute he spent watching you bend over your bed, ass up and face down, getting fucked by the fuck machine he gifted you. You had two cameras set up, one that let them view your tight cunt stretched around the silicone copy of his cock - thick and veiny - and one giving them a clear view of your tearful eyes and cock drunk expression.

König kept his eyes glued to your cunt, ploughed so roughly bu his girth that slick gushed around it, lips swollen and wet, and the little plug your pushed into your flared rim, the flat handle spreading your ass for them to see. He jerked himself, calloused fingers gripping the head of his cock and spreading pre down his shaft, the foreskin spread around his girth. He shuddered, his cock throbbing in his hand, reacting to the image of your ravaged and gasping figure taking the dildo so well, mewling and wailing like the angelic whore you were.

He wanted you to come, he wanted to see you squirt around the toy, slick rolling down your thighs in waves of pleasure, your voice breaking as you mewl and wail. He moved thoughtlessly, hand moving to type out his command, sending you more money, it was an addiction at this rate, his need to sustain you and your living. If you let him, he’d be your sugar daddy, paying for everything you’d need and you’d have the real deal, his hot and heavy cock rather than a silicone.

“Please let me come, sir!” Your begging had always been delicious and who was he to deny you of your pleasure when you brought him to his ground shaking climax.

He came with a loud groan, a deep rumbling in his chest, still pumping his cock as the head twisted, spraying his opaque cum over the table, white and viscous. His eyes rolled at the back of his mind, lids feeling heavy and body wracked with tremors, legs jerking as his hand slowed down, steadily riding out his mind-numbing release.

“Them too?” Horangi peered at the four Brits, an unamused gleam in his hidden eyes.

König nodded, his hood twisting with every motion, fingers moving gracefully over his rifle, dismantling and cleaning it after their recon mission. A groan caught his attention, his eyes moving from the beauty of his weapon to the cold blues that stared back at him.

“It does not matter,” Nikto’s voice had always been violent, a rough and jagged husk that exhumed power, “We found her first.”

It was a statement to himself, a strong and unyielding one that stemmed from Nikto’s dark and broken person, but they agreed.

Part 5

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redbuddi · 6 months

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Today at GameStop:

I confirmed my suspicions that I was being underpaid (my male coworker was hired for more than me)

I was told I could not sit while having to organize numerous games on low shelves due to it "taking up too much space" (crouching and sitting take up the same amount of space)

Got my nametag changed to my real name

I was only able to do so after making a stink about it

I found out that the reason my manager made me wear a nametag with my deadname yesterday was because he couldn't be bothered to make a five minute phone call with HR, or at least let me not wear the tag until I could put my real name on it

I confirmed my suspicion that we do not make commission for selling hundred dollar consoles to people, the only commission we do make is for selling people issues of Game Informer (one dollar per issue sold)

I hid every copy of Hogwarts Legacy behind games no one will ever buy (mostly Gollum)

I was constantly made to run around the store organizing large objects or large piles of objects, I couldn't even take a break in the form of standing still and ringing customers up because my manager still has not properly put me in the system so I can't log in to the register

I was asked numerous questions by customers that I did not know the answer to, all while I was very obviously in the middle of something (carrying large objects or large piles of objects)

I found out that the closest thing we'll be getting to a bonus for working Black Friday is a free sweater which we will have to wear the entire shift (this job gets very sweaty)

I had to sneak off to use the bathroom because the bathroom in the store is full of boxes of Pokemon cards

My Manager was very smelly for some reason

I got away with leaving thirty minutes early cause I'm not officially on the schedule yet

#reminder the subscribing to my comic brings me closer to being able to make it my job #and also i sell commissions

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itsbuckytm · 5 months

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Love at first Sight / Billy The Kid

summary : billy assumed the role of your father's right-hand man, working for a man rooted in tradition and possessing a distasteful approach toward women, especially you. as he engaged in conversations with his boss expressing displeasure regarding you, billy found himself increasingly interested in you. your situation, bound by an arranged marriage to the mayor's son—a union you adamantly rejected—created a unique backdrop. It was during a specific event that billy had the opportunity to meet your father's daughter, and in that moment, he became a firm believer in the existence of love at first sight. this entire journey began with his enduring fascination with the scent of your perfume back at your mother's stable.

ps : english is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes and grammar errors. please don't copy my work without giving proper credit. thank you!

Billy never experienced a genuine sense of belonging, whether he was away or striving to improve the situation for his family. He was acutely aware of society's treatment of outliers. As the affluent men from the village strolled through the suburbs, they, too, recognized the presence of criminals in their midst, and Billy found himself among them. And yet, he blended himself quite well with the wealth too.

Although you had expected to be the new talk of the town, an arranged marriage with the mayor's son was not on your list of future goals. Furthermore, being wedded to an arrogant individual who was well aware that it was merely a strategic move, and behind closed doors, he had no qualms about bringing his mistress into the same house, was beyond anything you had envisioned. Especially considering that if you had dared to do the same, your father would unleash his fury and shame at dawn, calling you the same names he had directed at your mother. She, in a desperate attempt, had reluctantly embraced the notion of marriage solely to preserve the family legacy.

"She will marry him, no questions asked." Uttered your father, the day before the marriage. And even in this assertion, it was the most affectionate sentiment he could muster towards his wife. Over time, you began to harbor suspicions that he, too, maintained a relationship outside the confines of home. In contrast to your newly arranged husband, your father, at least, displayed a modicum of dignity and refrained from entirely demeaning his wife in the presence of someone he found more alluring.

While the mere rumor of the mayor's son getting married spread, it didn't take long for the news to reach even those living close to your mansion. It was an announcement that resonated beyond the village. Citizens from the village, including yourself, were invited to celebrate this new union. Despite wanting to find humor in the irony of the situation, you found yourself gazing at your reflection in the mirror that very morning. Your hair was styled more meticulously than usual, and your maid affectionately applied a touch of powdered blush on your cheeks, suggesting that you should also apply a shade of red to your lips—apparently, your husband's favorite color. However, this notion raised suspicions that he might have mentioned it merely as a reminder of his own extramarital affair.

On the contrary, Billy found himself deeply engrossed in his pursuit of a plan to earn money and provide for his family back home. What he failed to mention was that he had been working for a member of your family since the very beginning. However, he soon found himself bewildered, troubled by the revelation that your father had a daughter. Despite being accustomed to your father's often proudly expressed family affairs, what offended Billy the most was the notion of witnessing such a beautiful girl tethered to a man he could hardly bear to part with—your new husband.

As your father's right-hand man, Billy was privy to more information than he probably should have been. He spent countless hours in conversations, observing how your new husband seemed enamored with the notion of having you as his wife. He openly entertained the idea that his mistress was even more alluring, describing her in rather explicit terms. This perspective left Billy contemplating the disdain these two men harbored—not only for their wealth but also for their audacity in talking about you with so much filth coming from their mouth.

Unbeknownst to both of you, there was a transparent tension in the air. Your father, having the audacity, warned Billy to tread carefully. "She's a spicy one, you know." He casually remarked one night at the pub, with your mother expressing concern over your father's prolonged absence. "She could make any man fall in love, a seductress she is." The words of your husband tempted Billy to rise and deliver a punch to his face, but he understood that such an act would cost him his job. Driven by the determination to catch a glimpse of your beautiful face on your wedding day, he suppressed his impulse. "You seem quiet tonight, boy." Your father's voice resonated in Billy's already agitated mind. Despite his initial disdain for the man who employed him, this time, Billy managed a smile. Aware that alcohol had taken its toll on the two affluent men, he began to entertain the thought that perhaps even the most sought-after criminal could outsmart every wealthy aristocrat, including your father and your husband.

As the reality of today being the wedding day sank in, you were expected to catch a glimpse of your husband before the ceremony. How mistaken you were when you decided to step out for a breath of fresh air. Suppressing tears, you tried not to panic at the thought of soon saying "Yes" to your husband, officially binding yourself to him. It was at that moment that Billy saw you in full. Carrying out a discreet surveillance as per your father's instructions, he had to halt his horse to avoid causing a disturbance in your courtyard. Dressed in his customary attire, a matching hat and blouse with his curls peeking through, he stood under the humid weather. His piercing blue eyes locked onto your silhouette. In that moment, Billy realized that love at first sight was indeed a reality.

Your thoughts were consumed by anxiety as you made every effort not to appear completely distraught. Amidst the constant pressure to present perfection, a seemingly inconsequential decision loomed large, poised to alter your life entirely. You were on the verge of declaring your desire to escape this distressing situation forever. If it weren't for your mother's insistence on keeping her daughter by her side, you might have left the wretchedness long before venturing into the wilderness. It was during this tumultuous time that the sound of a horse approaching caught your attention, guided to a halt. A boy of your age emerged, and there was a sense that he might be an outlaw in the employ of your husband's family. His gentle gaze met yours, prompting you to approach cautiously. "May I help you?" You inquired, hoping your recent tears had dried by this point, and the dryness in your voice was simply a result of dehydration.

"I reckon I should be askin' you the same question, darlin'." The accent hinted that the boy hailed from the South. A man of his demeanor might be viewed with disdain or seen as one who relishes the rugged existence of the wilderness as a mere challenge. However, his mannerisms suggested that this same man was well-acquainted with the nomadic lifestyle. Perhaps, if you were an unattached lady with enough daring in your spirit to break free, you could run away—with or without a total stranger—just as long as it meant being far away from home. "Billy's the name. Your father hired me to be..." He paused momentarily, conscious of your father's confession the previous night about you being the woman he envisioned. However, Billy wanted to witness it with his own eyes and found himself captivated by your subtle vulnerability and the fearlessness you displayed in conversing with someone of lesser means, not to mention a criminal. "His right-hand man. I reckon we haven't been properly introduced. You must be Y/N.”

Your eyes widened in shock, almost in disbelief, though it wasn't entirely surprising that your father would enlist someone to handle his less savory tasks. It wasn't until today's events that you truly learned about the man your father had only briefly mentioned, leaving you to think he was nothing more than an urban legend. Considering the amount of alcohol in his system, you were hardly surprised. Yet, there he stood—the man your father boasted about during lengthy dinners with his men: Billy the Kid. A figure with a shrewd skill for shooting intruders without hesitation, coupled with a charming demeanor. "I am..." You confessed, your admiration for his demeanor evident as you approached. You became conscious of the horse, realizing it was from your mother's stable. "She's been fed properly." Billy remarked, noting your gesture as you began to caress the braided hair of Billy's horse—a routine you had always done, realizing it was all along the horse reserved for him. "Love the braids, by the way."

His compliment sent a warm flush to your cheeks. "I've always wanted to know the owner's skill in braiding. I wanted to thank them, but a little bird told me it was someone's daughter who's about to get married. And upon hearing that, I was sad to hear such news." Among all the men you had encountered in your life, something distinctive resonated in Billy, acknowledging the small gesture. He was aware of your presence only at the wrong times and different hours, lamenting the missed opportunity of not meeting you sooner, especially after learning the news of you becoming a recognized wife.

The news struck Billy deeply. In all honesty, he meant every word he spoke. He realized it was merely a matter of being there at the right time, and he could have been the one to offer you in marriage. The thought of heritage and the possibility of being dismissed due to your father's demise didn't concern him. Billy began to believe that if you had been with him all along, you could have been a free lady. Unlike many men in the wilderness, he would have treated you as the woman you were meant to be—a princess in his eyes. Cheating, for him, was a sin. Despite his own involvement in many crime, he was determined not to tolerate disloyalty and would damn well wage a war against any men who prioritized their sins over loyalty.

"I—" You were so taken aback by Billy's sudden interest that unfamiliar feelings stirred within you, emotions you hadn't experienced in a long time. You had convinced yourself that love was a distant memory, and the idea of loving your own husband seemed utterly ridiculous. "Y/N! The ceremony is about to start!" Your mother's voice interrupted, drawing attention to Billy's presence. A formal smile appeared on her face, indicating that they knew each other long before you did. After all, he was involved in your father's business, and your father was adept at keeping his affairs away from you. "Billy." Your mother called out his name, prompting a respectful bow from him. "Miss." He acknowledged. "I'll leave you two ladies for the preparations, going back to duty." He announced, to which your mother responded. "Oh, you know you're always welcomed, boy. We even kept a plate for you. You're family."

"You're family." The words echoed in your mind as your mother gently took your arm, guiding you back inside to try on your wedding dress. Before stepping fully inside, you stole a final glance at Billy. He acknowledged your gaze with a brief nod, and you could have sworn you saw a soft smile, implying that everything was going to be okay.

But it didn't. The marriage turned out to be a complete spectacle. The meticulously arranged plates, with the white and red combination your husband had chosen, were even more distasteful than the concept of marriage itself. Despite having said "Yes," anticipating your father's intense gaze throughout the entire wedding, you were proven wrong. To no one's surprise, after a few drinks, he was already drunk and couldn't care less. However, you sensed someone's gaze shifting entirely from your mother to you from afar. It was Billy's gaze, his usual blue eyes looking at you so lovingly that he began to curse himself for not being the fortunate man to propose. "Don't they make a loving pair," your mother would say to him, although it was only for show. Your mother had shown signs of concern that your husband had already found a mistress back at home. She wanted to ensure that you felt the love your husband supposedly felt for the other ladies, and that man turned out to be Billy.

You came to the realization that throughout dinner, you had been putting on a façade, performing an act solely to appease the affluent company. The discomfort gradually intensified until it manifested as a nauseating twist in your stomach, making it impossible to consume such an excessive amount of food in such a short span. The moment your husband, adorned with a forced smile and a trace of alcohol on his breath, attempted to lean in, you swiftly rose from your seat. A disconcerting sensation lingered as you tried to evade his touch. Meanwhile, you couldn't help but notice Billy's unwavering gaze, indicating his awareness that something was amiss. True to his character as a loyal confidant, he patiently bided his time until you excused yourself, following suit shortly after. However, Billy's departure did not go unnoticed by your father, who inquired about his early exit. "Just need some fresh air." Was Billy's offered explanation.

Only upon reaching the back door did your eyes well up with tears, the very tears you had struggled desperately to conceal both before and after the wedding. As you brushed your fingers against a ring that didn't rightfully belong to you, an overwhelming desire to scream surged within. The pain and desperation begged for an outlet, a release, but no words emerged. Collapsing to your knees, vulnerability engulfed you completely.

Billy trailed behind, intending to afford you some privacy and a moment alone. However, what he hadn't anticipated was stumbling upon you in such a distressed state. Witnessing you in such a condition was beyond his comprehension. It was inconceivable for him to imagine seeing someone as beautiful and wise as you in such turmoil, especially considering that even his own boss, your father, would allow such a fate. You only became aware of his presence when the rhythmic thud of boots on the wooden planks reached your ears near the back door. Swiftly turning around, you flinched at the sudden noise, relieved to find it was only Billy, signaling there was no need for concern. “Woah there Darlin’. It’s just me…”

The casual and frequent use of "Darling" as a term of address by you was a mannerism you couldn't envision any other man adopting. The way he effortlessly and elegantly incorporated it into his speech hinted at an attraction that went beyond mere details. It was apparent that he harbored a profound desire to get to know you better, suggesting a possibility of rediscovering the love you believed was lost. This, of course, hinged on your continued role as a dutiful wife to your husband. However, Billy had his own agenda and plans in motion. That you would come with him, back home.

Your hands strained to reach out, desperate for a connection or anything tangible that could restore the emotions you longed to feel. You yearned to be loved for the woman you truly were, not merely a decorative statue to be admired at someone else's convenience. "Hey—" He noticed your discomfort, limping in an attempt to maintain the facade of perfection. "Shh... Come here." His arms tenderly encircled your waist, a stark contrast to his robust frame, displaying a genuine fear of causing harm. A true gentleman, he was. As he caught the scent of your delicate perfume, a vivid memory surfaced—the first time he encountered it was when your father had gifted him his retired horse. That same fragrance lingered in the horse's mane. Back then, he couldn't put a face to the scent, but now, he was fortunate to not only have a face to associate it with but also a person to cherish.

"I feel so disgusted... A woman with a husband should not sin." You confessed to him, torn between the desire to have Billy all to yourself and the looming temptation. The notion of love at first sight seemed undeniable, but Billy, with genuine concern, attempted to steer you away from such thoughts. "And let your husband be with that whore back home without even worrying about his own wife? I call that bullshit." His Southern accent became more pronounced, his breath closer beneath your face, and his eyes gleaming in the bright sun of the wilderness. "I wouldn't mind making the husband regret something." He added nonchalantly.

Tilting your head, your gaze was solely fixed on him. "And what sort of action do you propose to make my husband regret so profoundly?" You teased him with a hushed tone. This banter was a familiar game for you, reminiscent of the numerous long dinners accompanying your father, where many men sought your hand in marriage. Yet, all those efforts went to waste, leading your father to plead with you to consider marrying the mayor's son. "Will you love me the way you're looking at me right now?" You inquired, playfully challenging.

"I'll do whatever it takes." He asserted confidently, his thumb tracing the line of your chin, lifting it gently to meet your gaze. Your eyes momentarily wandered to the slightly exposed chest, a sight he might have deliberately unveiled for your eyes only. "Anything within my power to claim you as mine. Even if the consequences become their own, I'm willing to make you feel at home once again."

The notion of feeling at home had eluded you for quite some time, a sensation you hadn't experienced in what felt like an eternity. The concept of home seemed so distant that even your own residence became something almost unfathomable, much like the tears that had once dried only to resurface now. It occurred to you that perhaps Billy was the man you had longed to find in your life. If not for that realization, you would be compelled to thank your father for hiring Billy during that critical moment. Fortunately for both of you, Billy shared the same fervor to bring you home with him, even if it meant sneaking out or feigning vacations.

“Wouldn’t, they suspect of my absent? My husband could care less anyway…” Billy chuckled slightly at the irony of the situation. Something he too found oddly ironic by the subject of you being the object of another wedding that in the end was only to keep the money aligned. “I might have a few tricks up to my sleeve, darlin’. How do we say? By dawn tomorrow? I’ll come pick you up.”

As you contemplated the excuse, fully aware that you would scrutinize it, he pressed on. "Mother said she'll keep this a secret. She mentioned you'd been in contact with a distant cousin, and the plan was for you to spend a few weeks there and such. Oddly enough, your husband didn't seem to mind and even agreed." Your eyes registered disbelief. Did you hear correctly? Your mother? The same mother who appeared so vulnerable and hesitant, had orchestrated everything behind your father’s back. She was likely cognizant of Billy's admiration for you since his initial visit to the stable, where he expressed a desire to confront your father whenever he spoke of you in a distasteful manner.

"I promised her that I'd protect you and play the part of an unsuspecting ally upon returning to your husband. Your father tasked me with being your right-hand man this time, but it seems our luck had something even more significant in store." He confessed with softened eyes. A part of you yearned to embrace him, to acknowledge and reciprocate his admiration. However, your gaze shifted to his lips, a desire he sensed had been lingering since your first meeting. Without hesitation, he gently held your chin with one hand, drawing your lips closer to his, fully immersing both of you in a passionate kiss. It was a kiss you had no intention of ending, a kiss that spoke of love—something noticeably absent in your husband's crude and repulsive attempts to win your favor. “Mine…” You whispered so softly, begging for more kisses through it all.

“Mine forever… Señorita.”

#tom blyth #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid imagines #tom blyth x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #billy the kid #tom blyth imagines #tom blyth fluff #imagines #x reader #tom blyth fanfiction #billy the kid x you #billy the kid fanfiction #billy the kid smut

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mintsuwu · 1 month

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MORE SMILING CRITTERS FAMILY HEADCANONS WAHOO!! I do apologize in advance as this post will be shorter BUT THERE ARE MORE PICTURES!!!

Bubba Bubbaphant

Bubba Bubbaphant comes from a family deeply rooted in love, passion, and a sense of responsibility towards others. His mother was a botanist, brimming with a profound affection for plants, while his father embarked on adventurous explorations as a researcher. Despite their differing pursuits, they formed a tight-knit family unit where love and care flourished.

Sadly, his mother's life was cut short by a debilitating disease that drained her vitality, leaving an indelible mark on Bubba's heart. Witnessing her struggle ignited in him a fervent desire to become a doctor in the future, driven by the aspiration to alleviate suffering and potentially save lives, just as he had hoped to do for his mother.

But even after the profound loss, the relationship with his father remained strong, as the latter balances his adventurous spirit with unwavering dedication to his family. Despite the demands of his work, he cherishes every moment spent with Bubba, recognizing the importance of being present in his son's life. He carves out moments to spend quality time with him, sharing experiences and imparting valuable knowledge gained from his explorations as the young one shares information about the adventures he has with his friends

Mr. Bubbaphant embodies the essence of a true gentleman, extending kindness and assistance to those in need without hesitation. His demeanor and wisdom reflected the refinement and kindness instilled in his son, earning him a reputation as an absolute gentleman.

Their familial circle extends to Kickin'Chicken´s family, as he is friends with his mother, Clucketta, forging a close friendship between families. Recognizing the demands of parenthood, Mr. Bubbaphant would occasionally assist Clucketta by taking on babysitting duties, providing her with much-needed respite while her husband Rockin´ Rooster is away on his own endeavors.

Through their shared experiences and mutual respect, Bubba learns the value of compassion, friendship, and the importance of standing by those they care about.

BONUS: Kickin´ was the only one of the Smiling Critters who got to know Bubba´s mother before she passed away. And after her loss he made sure to be there to support his friend all the way just like the young elephant had done for him in the past.

Kickin'Chicken (Part ||)

Rockin'Rooster is a renowned singer in the Smiling Critters universe and the father of Kickin' Chicken. Despite his fame, Rockin' spends little time with his family, prioritizing his career over them.

Kickin' idolizes his father, despite his older sister Pecky harboring resentment towards him for his selfishness. Though Rockin' favors Pecky, hoping she'll continue his musical legacy, but she rejects his expectations. Instead, she enjoys music with her friends for fun as she even plays in a band with them, but she doesn't seek for fame or fortune. Rockin' later shifts his attention to Kickin', who adores his father but longs for more family connection. The young boy feels overwhelmed by his many younger siblings, as his father's absence is often filled with new additions to the family. But despite this, Kickin' loves his family deeply.

Clucketta, Kickin's mother, once shared Rockin's passion for music, but she now focuses on supporting her family. She sacrificed her own career as a dancer before moving to Jolly Valley (I still have to think of a name for the town though) in order to live a happy and peaceful life... Despite the family's imperfections. And though she no longer wears her Merry Charm, when she does, she keeps her pendant hidden as it makes her feel nostalgic of the times where she could pursue her passion for dancing.

BONUS: Adult Kickin' design! I like to imagine that he becomes some sort of dancing teacher in the future.

#fanart #oc #headcanon #poppy playtime #poppy playtime oc #smiling critters #the smiling critters #kickinchicken #bubba bubbaphant #family #smiling critters oc

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theerurishipper · 22 days

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I feel like people really underestimate the importance of Dick being the first Robin. Like, reverse Robin AUs are interesting and such, but I just hope people realize that in the context of canon, they would never work. The reason Batman and Robin ever works is because the first Robin was Dick Grayson specifically. Because Bruce would never have taken in any child if Dick's tragedy hadn't specifically happened to mirror his own experience. Dick Grayson was the only one Bruce truly saw himself in first, because the fundamental event that defines them is the same. And he sees the opportunity to help someone the way he was never helped, to make sure that Dick didn't go down the dark path he did. So, my point here is that the only one Bruce actually made the choice to take in, the only one who could kickstart it all, is Dick Grayson, because he is the only one with whom Bruce could immediately empathize and connect with.

This never happened with any other Robin. He took in Jason because he missed Dick, he took in Tim because Tim forced himself into the role, he took in Steph because he was trying to make Tim come back to being Robin, and Dick made Damian Robin. Of course, he loved all of them, and they all have their unique relationships with Bruce that are very important and inform their characters, and he does need them too. But he specifically formed this connection with Dick that made Dick the only person he ever considered taking in. It took a very specific set of circumstances in Dick's backstory that made Bruce commit an impulse adoption that just isn't really present in any other Robin's story. And the reason Jason or Tim or Steph or Damian or anyone else whom Bruce has taken under his wing even got that chance is because of the work Dick Grayson put into Bruce Wayne.

Before Dick, Bruce was reckless and didn't care at all about himself, to the point of almost being borderline suicidal. He was more brutal, more violent, etc. The reason all this changed, is because of Dick Grayson specifically. He was the one with whom Bruce opened up, with whom Bruce was forced to grow up, to take responsibility and learn to take care of both Dick and himself. Dick, to Bruce was the one who brought "color to their [his and Alfred's] monochrome lives." Dick Grayson's specific brand of happiness and joy changed Bruce for the better. Dick gave Bruce hope. This is true for other Robins too, but only because they followed the precedent that Dick Grayson set, only because they slid into his role (they have their own interesting relationships with Bruce, but this specifically is from Dick that other Robins carried on. A legacy, if you will). Dick Grayson turned Bruce into the kind of man who would become a serial adopter.

Without his influence, without his precedent, there would be no Batfamily, because Bruce would never have gotten to the point where he would be able or willing to take in someone else and care for them properly (It took living through his trauma again to get him to take Dick in lmao). Hell, there would be no Batman because Bruce would have gotten himself killed a long time ago if Dick hadn't helped him learn self-care. Dick knows Bruce best, because he understands him on a fundamentally deeper level than anyone else in the world. And he's the only one who can make Bruce open up at his rawest, most downtrodden state. He is the only one who can give Bruce at his lowest that kind of hope. There is no Robin without Dick Grayson. It's literally a tribute to his parents, using their colors and the name his mother called him. He created that identity as a symbol of hope. He helped Bruce become the kind of man who could and would let other people that he had to care for into his life. Without Dick Grayson, you can simply forget about any other Robin or the Batfamily as a concept even existing.

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mysterycitrus · 25 days

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Genuinely curious about your take on Dick’s relationship with being both a natural performer and a private person at heart.

bruce wayne and dick grayson are very similar in many ways, but i'd say one of the most profound is their shared grief - experiencing immense personal loss at eight years old, in a spotlight on a stage that they can never truly leave. in the same way that the waynes murder cast bruce as a tragic figure in gotham, who can never escape the shadow of his parents passing. he was alone in the alley, but he will never stand alone without that weight of an audience again.

but the graysons literally died onstage, during a performance, before a horrified crowd. there is no part of dick's loss that is private. there is no part of this loss that is his alone. he is a born performer who loses everything, then transforms that grief into a literal symbol of light, which is taken from him again. how would u not want to fiercely protect what u have left? why would u ever want to share urself with a world that has already seen everything u are, and still wants more?

someone like that would bury themselves so deep that it becomes a non-story. nothing escapes the tight grip he holds over himself, the trickle of personal information he lets escape at a time. he wants eyes to pass over him, utterly disinterested. the less remarkable he is, the better. the easier he is to ignore, the more he can breathe.

brucie wayne is a performance for a goal, to hide in plain sight, but the art of pretending to be dick grayson is an act of self preservation. his body is not his own, nor were his parents. his name has created a legacy he has no control over. every kind smile is an effort to detract further questions. every barb, every cruel word means people might refuse to dig deeper. if he is nice, he is trusted. if he is mean, he is reviled. there is nothing more terrifying than being truly seen and still found wanting. people only get to witness what he wants them to. he controls the light, and the stage. the art of the performance is only showing the audience what u want them to see. never reveal ur hand. never show the other side of the box. and always keep the curtains drawn.

#ok quick post then im dipping again #dick grayson would **** himself before posting a thirst trap or making a tiktok and thats a throughline of persephone so gn folks!!!#dick grayson #bruce wayne #nightwing #batman #dc comics #the ask and the answer

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absurdthirst · 5 months

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A Marriage of Convenience {Regency!Pero Tovar x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 20.5k

Warnings: Dying parents, arranged marriages, mentions of dying in child birth, fear, anxiety, panic attacks, poor Pero has PTS, virgin reader, vaginal sex, oral sex (female receiving), conversations about birth control, mentions of spousal beatings, pregnancy, childbirth

Comments: When your dying father sends you to Spain to wed Don Tovar, you know nothing about the man besides that he is a widower with two small children who will never love you. Finding your place in his household will take a stiff spine and a loving heart, making peace with your marriage of convenience.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Pero Tovar MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“Father, you cannot send me away.” You shake your head, dread welling in your stomach and you press your hand to the silken material of your day dress, the stays of your corset the only thing keeping you upright at this moment. Not that your stays are as tight as most of the noble ladies that come and go on the marriage mart. You have no desire to be married, to be chattel to a noble man and birth his children. Even though your father has just informed you that the man you are to marry already has children. A widower who is not so choosy as to a new wife that he is willing to take on an old maid who is nearly set upon the shelf and discarded at every social function during the season.

Pero Tovar is the name of the man you are to wed. Not only are you to be married off, but you will be shipped away from your home. Sent to Spain with no one that you know around you. Completely without allies and unable to easily go home if you are unhappy. Your father had met him in London and arranged your marriage before returning home to inform you. “Please.” You beg softly. “Do not make me marry a man I have never laid eyes on.”

“You have no choice. I am dying, daughter. You heard the doctor. I have months left. I do not wish to leave you without stability. The time has come for you to marry. I cannot allow you to delay it anymore. Tovar is a wealthy man. He has a large estate and two children from his late wife. He doesn’t need some young maid to birth children for his heir. He is stern but he has very strong morals. You’ll be safe with him and that’s all that matters. Please do not argue with a dying man.” Your father begs and you choke, tears stinging in your eyes as you embrace him and he rubs your back, knowing these moments before you go to Spain will be the last you spend together.

The day has come for you to leave your father, and despite your best efforts, you weep. Over the course of the month, he had grown more frail and could not even accompany you to Spain to see you wed in person. Embracing him in his sickbed, you know word would come that he had passed, your cousin inheriting the home you had grown up in, and all the wealth your father had accumulated. Your dowry is carefully packed into a large trunk, generous enough that if it had been known, several in London would have made you their wife. Instead, you will be Lady Tovar. “I love you.” You murmur, wishing you could stay until he had left this earth. “I love you father, I am sorry I was not the boy you wished to carry your legacy forward.”

Your father tuts, “don’t be silly, child. You are my life. After your mother died…you are everything to me. My world. I love you. If you could have everything, I’d give it to you.” He promises and cups your cheek, his hand shaking.

Your eyes sting with tears and you grip his hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “I know.” You promise, reluctantly pulling back.

“Go. Go live your life. Just promise me you’ll be happy.” He orders and you sniff, wiping your cheeks and you nod. It takes everything in you to leave his chambers but you do and you make your way down to the carriage to begin the start of a very long journey to Spain.

The trip to the ship takes nearly a week. A broken carriage wheel, a broken axle, and a thrown shoe from one of the horses. It seems as if the entire trip is cursed. You occupy yourself by writing letters and reading a few of the books you had packed into your reticule. Wondering if your father has passed already and praying that he has not. When you finally reach the ship, you sigh as you stare at the sails. Rather than just a short journey across the channel, it will be another week, sailing up the coast of Spain before you disembark. Your betrothed’s men should meet you there to carry you to his summer estate in the country.

When you step foot on land, you are relieved and exhausted, anxious and ready to be in your new home. Your husband to be doesn’t come to greet you, not that you expected that anyway but you are greeted by his secretary. “Señorita, I am Carlos. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Come this way, the carriage awaits us.” He says, gesturing to the horses behind him as the staff begins to gather your things to secure them for the final leg of your journey.

The carriage seems to be sturdy and soon you are pulling away. “Tell me about your lord.” You beg, having heard very little from your father beyond the rudimentary information. You want to know more about the man you are supposed to wed. “What is he like?” How a man treats his staff says a lot about him. That is what your father always told you.

Carlos looks at you, appraising you for a bit until he answers. “He is stern. Unforgiving but fair. He knows wrong from right and is only violent when the need occurs. He loved Maria, his first wife, but after she died, he has become a recluse. His children are cared for by the staff and he rarely interacts with them. If you want my honesty, señorita. The house needs life and love once again. It’s cold and lacking happiness.”

You bite your lip, repressing a small shiver. He sounds…..austere. Unyielding. You feel for the children who seem to have lost both their mother and father at the same time. “How old are the children?” You ask politely, aware that if he was not giving love and attention to his children, it would be your job. You remember how terribly you had missed your own mother, though your father had been your rock through grieving.

“They are five and seven. They do not remember their mother. Both too young. Luis - the youngest - was the child born when Maria lost her life. She doesn’t remember her mother. Alejandra, she - she doesn’t remember her either. They are - needing love and attention as all children do and their father - he is a busy man. That’s why he wanted a wife who was capable of nurturing his children when he is unable to.” Carlos explains and you glance out of the carriage as the Spanish port city turns to countryside.

“I see.” You wonder if the children are too painful a reminder of his late wife. If that was the reason he could not be around them. “And his holdings?” You ask. “He is a lord, is he busy with his lands?”

Carlos nods and sighs. “My lord works long hours to make sure that the estates and the lands that are used by his people are properly maintained.” He tells you, making you feel a bit better about the situation.

“Then I will make sure that he has a comfortable home and well behaved children to come home to.” You promise.

Carlos nods, appreciating your compliance and he watches you as you look back out of the window. You are beautiful, have an air of maturity the other girls, the local ones, had lacked. His lord has been searching for a wife for a while, but no one has fit his criteria. He doesn’t want a simpering girl who wants romance, he needs a partner who can assist him with his home and his children. Carlos knows that Pero’s heart is cold, iced over after the death of Maria and he doesn’t know if anyone can melt it.

The good thing about you is that you know that love and romance are not expected, nor required in most marriages. You aren’t a starry eyed little girl who will wish that her husband falls desperately in love with her. From everything you are hearing, that would be quite impossible. You will settle for mutual respect. The rest of the journey is spent quietly thinking, making plans for your new home that could be tossed out the window the moment you arrive. You do not even know if your future husband will be there to greet you.

When you pull up outside of the summer home of Don Pero Tovar, it’s beautiful and instantly takes your breath away. It’s picturesque and grand but when you have a closer look, you can see the cracks, the work that needs to be done. The shutters are crooked and need new paint. The flowers are gone and the paint is peeling everywhere. “Oh. I- it’s beautiful but-” You start and Carlos finishes your statement, “it needs work. After Señora Maria died, Don Tovar just let the place go, too preoccupied to maintain it.”

You nod, understanding that he might not have had the heart to continue to look after the details that make his estate a home for his family. “Then I will hire workers to restore his home to its former glory.” You decide with a smile, eager to get to work and contribute.

Carlos hums as the carriage comes to a stop, “if he allows it. He - it’s - it’s almost like he is stuck in the past, never moving forward.” His eyes widen and he shakes his head, “please señorita, don’t - he mustn’t know I said that.” He murmurs and you nod, “it’s our secret.” The secretary exhales and reaches out to open the door to the carriage, stepping out and holding out his hand to assist you down.

There is no staff lined up to greet you. No betrothed waiting at the door to introduce you to his household. The pots next to the large double doors of the house are empty, filled with dirt and sticks. Providing an unwelcoming air and you try to think of it as some kind of omen. “Well, it is late.” You excuse, biting your lip as you look around.

Carlos looks guilty as he opens the door to guide you inside to find the housekeeper, Señora Garcia. “Come, let’s take you to your quarters and we shall start fresh in the morning, you have had a long journey and I’m sure you’d rather meet everyone after resting.” Carlos says and Señora Garcia nods, “also, your lady’s maid, Carmen, will be waiting in your room to help you prepare for tonight. We will bring dinner to your room.”

You tilt your head. “Prepare for tonight?” You ask, confused by what he means. “What is happening tonight?” Surely he does not mean that Lord or Don Tovar meant to wed you tonight after you’ve only just arrived? You have not even met the man, you had hoped to have a conversation before he becomes your husband.

“The wedding.” Carlos says like you should’ve known. “Did no one inform you that Don Tovar wanted to be married as soon as you arrived?” You shake your head and Carlos sighs. “You are to be married tonight. Carmen will help you dress and we will bring your trunks up to your quarters. The wedding will be at eight. We will bring food to your room beforehand and a bath. You’ll be the lady of the house tonight.”

Closing your eyes, you try to suppress the tremble that races through you. Stiffening your spine and taking a breath before you open your eyes and nod. “I will be ready when Don Tovar says.” You agree, making Carlos nod in approval. “I would also like a cup of tea to be brought up, right away.”

Carlos nods, “sí, señorita. I’ll make sure you get your tea.” He assures you and you sigh, following Señora Garcia up the stairs to your quarters. The house is dark and damp and there seems to be no sign of life anywhere. You immediately feel alone and cold, regretting leaving your home, your dying father for this pitiful estate.

****

By the time your tea arrives, it’s accompanied by your meal. Cold and unappetizing, you wonder why the cook would send you a plate such as this. Investigating your room, you find that it has not been properly aired out, dust still sitting on the window sills and the candle holders not refreshed with new candles. It seems as if you are to be un-welcomed or the staff who works here is completely unskilled in how to run a house.

“Señorita, bienvenidos.” Carmen says as she walks in, “I am sorry I am late. I am your lady’s maid and I am here to assist you with getting you ready for your wedding to Don Tovar. Was your dinner acceptable, señorita?” She asks and notices your frown, “what is wrong?” She prompts, wanting to be there for the soon to be lady of the house.

“The meal was cold,” You explain, understanding that she is not to blame for that. “As was my tea.” You tilt your head and look at the lovely young woman. “Have you worked for the household for long?” You ask. “Is this how meals are normally delivered?” If it is some kind of custom, you would try to be more understanding, but you don’t think that it is.

Carmen shakes her head, “absolutely not. I- you shouldn’t have had a cold meal and cold tea. Please, señorita, let me get you a new, hot -”

You interrupt her, “no. It’s not - I’ve eaten it now and I do not have time to waste. I need to bathe and get ready for my future husband.” You inform her and she nods, “I will go fetch the hot water and we will get you ready.” She promises and rushes off.

You are grateful that your trunks have been delivered, your dress you had made clean, if slightly wrinkled from being packed. Airing it out, you had hoped you would wear this while marrying a man that you had met before, but it seems unlikely to happen now. You had not even heard any movement in the large house.

Carmen works diligently to clean you up, washing your back and making sure the dirt from the journey has been washed off prior to your wedding. Once you’re dry, she works on styling your hair and soon enough, it’s time for her to help you into your dress. “What’s he like?” You ask her as she buttons your dress and Carmen bites her lip. “He’s…direct but fair.”

“That seems to be what everyone says about him.” You hum. “Is he a handsome man?” Carmen glances at you nervously. “He- some think him handsome. But-“ she glances around your empty bedroom and lowers her voice. “He has a - a scar. Over his left eye.”

You inhale sharply, wondering how a man like Tovar got a scar over his eye. You’re worried now, scared that he is going to be a rough man. “He’s a good Don, fair and harsh but I think you will be good to have in this house. We need light, we need love. It’s been missing for far too long.”

It doesn’t take much longer for Carmen to declare that you look perfect. Your nerves flutter in your stomach and you press your hand to it in a meager effort to calm them. “Then perhaps you can show me a little of the estate while we walk to the chapel?” You assume that there is a chapel on the grounds that you will be married in. Giving your maid a weak smile, you try to hide the fear.

Carmen nods, “of course, señorita. Come, let us go now. Your intended will be waiting.” She says and you exhale shakily, trying to gather yourself to get married to a man you’ve never met before.

The estate is beautiful, the ground neglected like the house, although you can tell someone had once cared for them a great deal. You wonder if that was your soon to be husband's late wife. It doesn’t take long for you to see the stone chapel, overgrown and yet the soft candlelight coming from the windows gives it an enchanting glow. You take a deep breath and glance at the maid for some reassurances.

Carmen squeezes your arm and winks at you, “everything will be fine.” She promises but you both know she has no way to assure that. You stand in the entrance of the chapel when the violin starts to play and you swallow harshly when Carmen gestures it’s time for you to go. You exhale shakily and step foot into the main hall of the chapel.

****

When you step into the chapel, Pero keeps his back turned. Your father had shown him your miniature so he knows you are a beautiful woman. Not that it makes a difference. He has far exceeded the socially acceptable grieving period for Maria and now he’s expected to get a wife. He needs a mother for his children and a woman to maintain his estate. The music plays as you walk down the aisle and when you approach him, he turns around and inhales sharply when he sees your face. You’re gorgeous. A woman most men would kill to wed but he doesn’t care about looks, he cares about you filling the position that has remained empty in his home. He wonders if you like the look of him.

Your steps forward stumble briefly, but you recover. Catching your breath and smiling softly, you find him to be most handsome in a visceral, viral way. Rough and not exactly tamed, although many would say that you were possessed to think that way. HIs eyes are dark and watching you, making your skin heat and you wonder if your future husband approves of you. Stepping closer to him, you stop directly in front of him and take another breath. “Don Tovar.” You murmur, curtsying prettily.

You curtsy so perfectly, it’s almost enough to make him smile but he doesn’t. He hasn’t since Maria died. His life is now black and white, his love taking all of the color in the world with her when she died during childbirth. “Señorita.” He greets you and takes your hands, turning towards the priest who was called to marry you. Pero’s secretary and Carmen are to bear witness to the marriage and Pero is glad there’s no audience to see him remarry a woman he doesn’t even know.

The priest recites the vows in Spanish and you follow along closely. Listening as he proclaims that marriage is a sacred duty to your husband and you can barely look at your intended. Sneaking a glance and trying not to fidget. “I do.” You murmur quietly when you are asked if you take the Don as your husband. Your eyes meet his and you bite your lip, wondering if he is unhappy. He is frowning, he must be unhappy with his decision to marry you.

Pero remembers his wedding day to Maria. How excited he was. Young and eager before the days of war to marry the woman he loved. He was ready to have a future with her and it was ripped away from him on one fateful winter day. Tovar recites his vows and when the priest declares you husband and wife, he leans in to kiss your cheek. “Welcome, mi esposa.” He whispers once you are married.

A kiss on the cheek was not what you expected, turning to find his lips when he pulls away leaves you flustered. “Gracias, husband.” You murmur quietly. His secretary and your maid clap quietly and you turn back to them with a smile, thanking them for witnessing your vows.

Pero takes your hand to guide you out of the chapel and to the carriage awaiting to take you back to the main home. Pero doesn’t say a word as you are carted back and when you arrive, the housekeeper takes your hand to assist you inside. “There’s no need to arrange our bed chamber. My bride will be spending the night in her own room.” Tovar reveals with a grunt.

“Yes, Don Tovar.” Carmen nods and you are left feeling rejected even if you had been nervous about the wedding night. It is silly to think of, but you hope it’s because he wishes to get to know you before you become intimate.

“Then I wish you a good night, husband.” You nod politely to him and wait for him to speak.

Pero turns to look at you, reaching for your hand and he bends down to kiss the back of it but it’s cold and emotionless. “Buenas noches, señora Tovar. I will see you tomorrow so we can discuss your duties. Carmen, escort her to her room. Garcia, vamos. We have much to discuss.” Tovar says to his secretary who nods and steps beside him as he strides over without a glance back towards you.

“I see what you mean.” You murmur to your lady’s maid as she starts to guide you back up the stairs. “He is devoid of much emotion, although at least he is polite.” It is better than some men that you had met. “Is there a library in the house?” You ask curiously. “I fear that I had brought many of my own books when packing my trunks.”

“There is a library, señora. It- it needs organizing. It has been neglected for many years but the children do study there during the day. It needs a refresh. Perhaps you may ask Don Tovar if he will provide you with the tools to refresh the room where the children learn.” She says and you hum, letting her escort you back to your chambers.

****

“She is beautiful, no?” Carlos asks his employer who grunts as he sits down in the chair, working on removing his shoes and his wedding attire, wanting to be comfortable. “She is but you know I don’t care for beauty. I need a woman to run the house. To show those fools in society that I have fulfilled their requirements. I don’t need her company, I just need her presence. Her father was desperate to marry her off before his death and her dowry was enough to keep her without spending my coin. She’s suitable for the role and I’m hoping the children will attach to her.” Pero says and Carlos nods, “we shall see.”

You wake up shrieking as a pitcher of cold water is tossed on your face while you lay in your bed. Bolting upright, you flail your arms, hearing giggling as you try to blink and see what or who is attacking you. Finding two children grinning at you in defiance as the oldest holds the empty pitcher in his hands. It is still dark outside, at least you think it is, for the curtains are still drawn over the large windows. Pero’s children. Your husband’s children have woken you up by throwing water on your face. You leap from the bed right as you hear the pounding of footsteps and the door to your room bursts open.

“Alejandra! Luis! Mierda!” Pero growls as he storms into the room to find his children standing there with their hands behind their backs. “What is wrong with you?” He growls, turning to face you when he sees you are soaking wet, his eyes dipping down to the white gown you’re wearing, now see through and he swallows harshly at the sight of your nipples. Carmen rushes in and he turns towards her. “Gather water for a bath to warm her up and get her a robe.” Pero demands and turns back to his children. “I was walking past when I heard the commotion. You cannot do that. Why would you do that?” Pero hisses at his children who stare at him defiantly.

“We thought it would be funny.” Alejandra answers and Pero inhales deeply.

“That is not acceptable. You will miss breakfast and today, you’ll be writing lines - saying you will not abuse your new mother.” He says lowly and Luis shakes his head, “she isn’t our mama. We don’t want her. We want our real mama.” Luis stomps his foot and Pero pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Go to your rooms before I get the belt.” He threatens, knowing he wouldn’t actually hit them but every day they test him and push him closer to physical punishment.

“Papa-” Alejandra chokes and Pero hisses, “do not test me girl. Now get out of my sight.” He hisses and the children rush out of your room.

“I am sorry.” You murmur quietly, covering your arms over your chest and shivering in the cold. It is chilly in the room since there is not a fire laid in the grate and you wish that you did not feel so exposed with his eyes on you. “I- I do not know what happened.” you shake your head. “I was sleeping and then - I just - they do not wish for a new mother?” You had expected that the children were accepting of your new husband marrying again, but it is apparent they do not want you here. That will make things more difficult for you if you expect to forge any kind of bond with them.

“They are loyal to their mother.” He answers curtly, wanting to add that he is too but he feels that would be too insensitive. “They will come around. They have been troublesome and I am hoping a female presence will help them adjust.” He says and Carmen rushes over with your robe to help you cover up.

“Thank you.” You wrap the robe around you and find that your husband does not seem to care for you being here any more than his children and you swallow harshly, feeling incredibly alone. “I see.” You nod and decide that you might as well broach the subject since he is here. “Then I have permission to discipline the children?” You ask him. “If they are to respect me, then they need to see me as an authority figure as well as a motherly one.”

“Yes, but I do not physically punish them. You are welcome to discipline them as you see fit. I have struggled to control them. They do not seem to want to be around me and I - I must admit I am a little hopeless about how to handle them.” He confesses, “if you can control them, you’ll have my admiration.”

You nod, thankful that he will allow you to curtail his children’s rambunctiousness. “I also wish to reorganize the library and freshen up the house to make things more homey.” You add. You do not tell him that his home is desperately in need of repair, but that would be something that you would be able to tackle with a good scrubbing and a good airing out. “Would that be acceptable to you?”

Pero nods, unable to argue with you when you are doing exactly what he wants to be done. He needs his home to be returned to its former glory and his children to be nurtured and loved in ways he has failed. “Very well, señora. I will let you prepare for the day. Breakfast will be brought to you and you are permitted to explore the house as you see fit. It is your home now.”

“Thank you.” You murmur quietly, wondering if you would ever have a meal with the man you call your husband. “However I will order dinner to be served in the dining room this evening.” It will be the first time you will have imposed your will and you wonder if he will dismiss your wishes. “Perhaps the children can join us?”

Tovar nods, “very well.” He doubts he will eat dinner with you. That implies that you are having some kind of relationship and that isn’t what this is. You’re here to fill a position like if he were to hire a new housekeeper. Pero stares at you for a moment before he steps back and makes his way down the hall to his office.

You blow out a breath, happy and yet slightly discontent with his answers and you feel like he has no intention of trying to get closer to you. It’s like he does not actually want you here, but needs you. “Well, good morning to you as well.” You huff sarcastically under your breath.

Pero continues on with his day, attending to the finances due at the end of the month for the tenant rents and salaries for the staff, signing off on the accounts for the food and necessities. It’s a laborious job but Carlos can only do so much. Your presence here will alleviate the household requirements from him but the estate needs maintenance. The day gets away from him and he is soon preparing for lunch.

You sigh, exhausted and wipe your brow as you collapse into a dusty couch and look around the room. The library will be days in the making to turn into a lovely place to read and teach the children. Who have been watching you warily and not paying attention to their tasks. They are seated at a table, their books open, but neither one of them has completed an assignment. “How do you like the gardens?” You ask, looking over at them. “Is it lovely to have picnics there for lunch?”

Alejandra glances at her brother before she answers you, “we don’t have picnics in the garden. Papa doesn’t really like for us to go outside.” She tells you and Luis nods his agreement, making you frown. “He says it’s dangerous to go outside in the gardens.”

You purse your lips, not remembering any kind of warning about staying out of the gardens. “Perhaps your papa means that it would be dangerous for you to go out there by yourselves?” you offer, standing up and wiping your hands on your apron that you had covered your day dress with. “Why don’t we see about having the cook make up some picnic food and we can take lunch out there? Explore and take in the fresh air.” It was obvious the children were bored and isolated, running around in the gardens would be good for you and them. Perhaps it would even help them like you.

Alejandra is cautious as she watches you, placing her pencil down so she can look at you properly. Luis tugs on her sleeve, shaking his head, and she pushes him off. “The garden, Luis.” She says pointedly and the little boy giggles, making you tilt your head. “What’s so funny?” You ask and Luis shakes his head. “Nothing.” Alejandra answers, “a picnic would be lovely.”

You frown but nod. “Alright. Put your books away and we will venture into the kitchen.” You smile. “Perhaps the cook has made cookies for us to have.” You shouldn’t bribe the children with sweets but you want to break through their prickly exteriors. They are still young and it has been a long time since their mother has been lost to them. “How does that sound?”

Luis nods, cautious but easily swayed by cookies. Alejandra is more reserved, offering you a look as she closes her book and you smile at her, trying to disarm her cautious nature. The children soon have their books stored away and they rush towards the kitchen, calling out for the cook who has become a mother figure for them. Señora Lola. “¡Ay niños!” She exclaims as they practically slide into the kitchen.

You can’t help but smile as the children greet the cook with obvious affection and your complaints about your first dinner being cold are forgotten for the moment. They hug the cook excitedly and both begin talking at once, turning and pointing to you. When the older woman looks up at you, you nod your head politely. “The children and I would like to have a picnic luncheon in the gardens.” You explain in Spanish. “Would we be able to put together a suitable fare for this?”

Lola nods, “of course, señora. I can prepare a basket for you and the children.” She assures you, “would you like a cup of tea while I prepare lunch?” She asks and you nod, moving to sit down at the kitchen table while the children tell Lola about their lessons. You can sense that she’s like a mother figure to the young ones and you’re glad they have had someone since their mother passed. Lola works fast to get you a cup of tea and the children a glass of milk while they wait.

“Thank you.” You watch as she moves about the kitchen, finding her to be quick and decisive as she gathers her ingredients. This is not a woman who is sloppy or resentful it seems. It makes you wonder why the food was so horrible the day before. When the kids are busy drinking their milk, you smile. “Tell me about yourself, Señora Lola. It is obvious you have been with the Don’s household for many years.”

Lola smiles, “my mother was the cook before she retired. My father was the Tovar’s butler and they fell in love and had me. Mi mamá taught me everything I know and we have been in the Tovar household for three generations. My son is a gardener. My husband is the groundskeeper. Maria - bless her soul - was the heart of the home. She lit up every room she was in.” Lola sighs and glances at the children.

“I understand that I am new.” You venture softly. “And I cannot replace Señora Tovar, but I would like to bring some comfort and happiness to her family.” You know that you can’t just force these people to accept you. Not when they had lived for so long with the ghost of the woman who had left them broken. You bite your lip. “Will you help me do that, Señora Lola?”

Lola nods, “if you can bring hope and light back to this home, you will forever have my admiration and gratefulness, señora. You are Señora Tovar now.” Lola tells you and you bite your lip as she prepares the lunch.

Once the lunch is packed away in a basket along with a large bottle of lemonade, you have Carmen bring you a quilt to spread on the grass to sit on. Guiding the children out of the large, glass doors into the garden, you smile at the bright sun and fresh air. The weather is beautiful and you can see yourself bringing the children out here often. “Where would you like to sit?” You ask, looking around the neat but barren gardens. It’s obvious Lola’s husband keeps them up but there has not been any new flowers or plants added for some time.

The children point to a spot near the pond and you allow them to guide you towards it. Carmen spreads out the blanket and you settle down with the children. Pero is standing up to stretch when he sees you and the children on the lawn. He tilts his head and wonders how you managed to get them to sit down for more than five minutes. Maybe he did make the right decision.

Eating outside seems to have been a magical treat for the kids. They ate politely and minded their manners after the promise of running around after they finished was made. You can tell they enjoyed it and by the time you had to pack up to go back to the house to finish their lessons they were sleepy. Making you smile at the way they leaned against one another.

****

“Señora, is this the color you prefer for the drapes?” Carmen asks you as you appraise the different materials and pattern samples. It’s been a month since you’ve been in Pero’s home and you have been slowly working on bringing the home back to its former glory. The children have grown closer to you, wanting their meals in your company, yet still no sign of your husband.

Pero walks down the hall, the portraits of his ancestors lining the walls and he notices the change of the decor. Everything seems dusted and shiny, and the rugs are pristine. It’s fresher and brighter. He knows it’s your doing and that makes him smile, assured he made the right decision to marry you.

“I think it will look lovely in the breakfast dining room, don’t you?” You ask, finding Carmen to be a wealth of information and a good judge of character and design. As the two of you had grown closer the more time you spent going through the house room by room. Even the kids were helping when it was time to scrub walls and beat rugs out in the garden. You had turned it into a game where you covered their eyes and spun them around before they whacked the rugs with a broom. They had giggled and fallen down, but it was worth the extra time it had taken to freshen the rugs. “Perhaps, even if he does not dine with me, Don Tovar might enjoy reading his paper and drinking his tea in a bright and cheerful room.”

“Papa! Papa!” Alejandra rushes up to her father who is shocked at her cheerful greeting.

“Sí, mi tresoro.” He answers and she grins, “we are going into town today.” She declares and Pero frowns, not liking the idea.

“Whose idea is this?” He asks lowly and Alejandra says your name. Pero sighs and tells his daughter to lead him to you. She takes his hand and guides him to the kitchen where you are sitting with Lola. “Hola.” He greets his cook who smiles at him and says “hola señor.” His dark eyes turn to you, “Alejandra tells me you are taking the children into town today?”

“I am.” You nod as you set down the book you are making notes in. Carmen hustles to put the fabrics away and you send your husband a small smile. “The children need new shoes and I have several merchants that I wish to visit.” You glance at Alejandra with a proud look. “The children have assured me that they will be well behaved, and they are excited to spend their own pin money.”

Pero frowns, “I do not like them going into town. I do not want you going into town. It is dangerous.” He says, remembering when Maria went into town while with child and was knocked over. She went into labor early with Luis and that’s the night that she died. His hands shake a little and he shakes his head, “you are not going. I forbid it.”

Your brow arches and you look towards Carmen and Lola. Both women quickly bow and disappear. “Alejandra,” you urge his daughter. “Go and find your brother.” You urge her as you stand up and brush your dress down. If you are going to disagree with your husband, you are not going to do it in front of the staff or his children.

Pero meets your defiant gaze and he clears his throat, “I will not allow you to go into town. It’s dangerous. If you need something, you can tell the staff and they will go and get it.” He compromises and you glance around to make sure no one is around.

“Don Tovar, I appreciate your concern for my well-being but I am not a child and I will not be held hostage on your estate.” You declare. “I will take a footman and a driver with me, and exercise all caution. But I am going to town. Now….is there anything you wish for me to get while we are there?”

Pero clenches his jaw, remembering that moment Maria was carried into the house, her screams still echo through the halls of his mind. “No. I forbid it. You won’t be leaving this estate. That’s an order.” He growls, reaching for your wrist to grip it, his hand shaking as he remembers the night Maria died.

You wince when he grabs your wrist, squeezing it hard enough that your breath catches in pain. You wrench your wrist away from him, yanking your arm down and stepping back, your eyes wide with both fear and anger. "I am your wife. Not your servant." You manage to keep the fear from making your voice tremble.

“You can’t go. I - I can’t - Maria - she- please. You cannot go.” He shakes his head, his chest starting to heave and he hates how anxious he’s become at the thought of losing more from his life. He has barely spent a moment with you since the wedding but the idea of his children losing another woman from their lives makes his chest tighten.

Fear turns to worry, making you step forward and reaching for his arm. “Pero?” You do not use his Christian name often, but you use it now. “What is wrong? Take a breath.” You urge him, frowning at the way that your husband has turned from cold and demanding to panicked. “Talk to me.”

He pants, unable to calm himself down, and he clings to you, pulling you close and he can’t control his thumping heart, remembering the night he lost Maria, the night he lost the light of his life. He closes his eyes, trying to control himself but he’s failing.

You nearly stumble, but you don’t resist him. Holding onto your husband’s waist while he trembles. He’s obviously horrified by the idea and you can’t understand why but you don’t want to make him do this. “Alright, alright, I will not go into town.” You give in, hating that you are but perhaps you can talk to him and come to agreement later on when he has calmed down.

Pero inhales deeply, remembering what his doctor told him to do, and he tries to calm himself down, grounding himself with your touch. He takes several moments before he opens his eyes, his gaze meeting yours. “I- I’m sorry, esposa.” He murmurs, his hands still gripping you.

"It is alright." You murmur soothingly, wanting nothing more than to make him feel comfortable around you. You are supposed to be here to help him, and it seems like he needs help with this. "I am here, I am right here." You assure him with a smile.

When you smile at him, he jerks back and lowers his hands, the shield back up as he gathers himself and clears his throat. “I, uh, I am going to go - go back to my office. I trust you will send Carmen in your place to town.” Pero says and quickly turns to rush back to his office, away from you and the children once more.

You stare after your husband, completely flabbergasted and frustrated. The man dictates that you must stay at the estate, not go to town and has an apoplexy before fleeing back to his study without giving you a reason why you must be a hostage. Blowing out a frustrated sigh, you turn and curse your husband's stubbornness. You need to know what happened to Maria and why town is forbidden.

Alejandra and Luis shake their heads when you tell them you are no longer heading into town. “Please. Tell Papa we must go!” Alejandra whines, clinging to your skirts.

“I’m sorry, amor. He won’t allow us. We must listen to him.” You say and she shakes her head and looks up at you to stomp her foot.

“I hate him!” She cries and runs off, followed by Luis. You sigh and sit down just as Carmen comes over with a tea tray.

“Señora, I do not wish to speak out of turn.” She says and you shake your head, “when do we hide our feelings and thoughts, mi amiga.” You smile at her and she smiles back, glancing around when she takes a seat beside you.

“Don Tovar has - has a lot of fears about you going into town because that was the night he lost Maria.”

You frown, unsure of why going into town would cause a woman to die in childbirth, but you take your tea and listen. “I do not understand.” You shake your head. “Maria died giving birth to Luis, I thought?” You frown, knowing you will need to soothe the children’s feelings later on, but you want them to be able to calm down before you try. If you know why your husband fears it so, you can explain better to disappointed young children who don’t understand why they cannot have fun.

Carmen glances around again, “Maria was far along with Luis when she wanted to go into town to fetch more yarn for knitting. She - she was an independent woman and Don Tovar, he - he worshiped the ground she walked on. She loved him and he loved her. When she went into town, she was robbed for her jewels and coins and thrown to the ground and it sent her into early labor. The thugs were never apprehended and she was rushed home and the doctor was called. That was the night Luis was born and Maria died. They thought Luis was going to die too but he survived. Don Tovar was never the same.”

“Oh.” Your shoulders slump and you can understand why Pero is fearful of his wife going to town now. Even if he does not love you, the children have grown close to you and it would hurt them to lose you. “That is so sad.” You look down into your tea with a sigh and wish for a moment that this had been explained to you sooner. “I better understand why he is so hesitant, but he cannot think that the children will be kept here forever, does he?”

“He has…attacks when he has concerns about the children’s safety. I think - I do not wish to speak out of place but I think that’s why he has pushed the children away.” Carmen says and you nod in understanding. “I think he wishes he could connect with them but it’s hard since all he sees is Maria. He loved her. She was his childhood sweetheart and they married young before he left to fight in the war.”

You sigh softly, knowing you would find it romantic if he didn’t push his children away. To close himself off from pain. “Then I will make him.” You decide with a firm press of your lips. “I will go talk to the children. Inform Lola that the children and I will be taking lunch in Don Tovar’s study.” You decide. “Since he refuses to take his meals in the dining room, we will come to him.”

Carmen won’t argue with you, knowing it is futile, so she nods. “Very well, señora. I will tell Lola now and will let Carlos know.”

You shake your head, “not Carlos. I want it to be a surprise.” You say and she nods, “sí, señora.” You smile and she stands, bowing her head before she exits the room, leaving you with the news to tell the children.

****

Pero looks up from his papers when there is a knock on the door and he calls out “come in.” When you enter followed by the children, he’s shocked. “Señora?” He frowns, setting his pen down.

“Husband.” You send him a smile and guide the children over to the table that sits in front of the sofa and they sit down. Alejandra is still pouting, but her tears have dried and she is not so angry when she was told her papa feared for her safety. “Carmen will be bringing in our lunch soon.” You explain with a cheerful smile. “I thought that since you work so hard and are so busy, we would join you here to have lunch together.”

Pero’s frown deepens, “lunch together? Are you not able to have lunch in the kitchen?” He asks and you raise your eyebrows at him.

Pero bites his lip and you answer him, “the children would like to spend some time with their father seeing as we are no longer going into town.” You say and Alejandra stands up to walk over to Pero, reaching for his hand, “please papa. Let us have lunch together.” Her pout is Pero’s unraveling as he nods, standing up from his desk chair to walk towards the sofa.

Luis grins, unaware and still too young to understand his father’s hesitancy, but he begins to tell his father about the Spanish Armada that the governess is teaching the children about lately. “Sí, mijo. The English defeated us.” His dark eyes meet yours as he answers questions Luis excitedly asks him and he seems to relax a little. Lola and Carmen bring the meal in and the four of you begin to eat.

“I have decided to ask Carmen to direct any traveling merchants to our house when they are going through town.” You take a sip of your tea and look at your husband. “As well as inquire about children that are near Luis and Alejandra’s age that might wish to come play with them. Soon the house will be ready for visitors.”

Pero frowns, “why would we require merchants to come to my home?” He asks as he picks up his glass of wine. “And for the other children…I suppose it will be good for them to mingle with others.” He concedes that point, glancing at you and he’s taken back once again by your beauty, especially when the light hits your face.

“We require merchants to come to your home because the children need new shoes, their own are pinching their feet and the cobbler cannot make their shoes without measuring their feet.” You point out. “Also, I enjoy socializing and since I am not permitted to go to town, I will simply have town come to me.”

Pero sets his wine glass down, “I suppose that is for the best. I want the children to have everything they need, I want you to have everything you need. You - I am guessing one of the staff told you about Maria?” He asks, curious if anything has been said about his behavior.

You could lie to him, but you don’t. “I was told about the night Luis was born.” You admit softly, understanding how such a thing could haunt the man, especially since he was a soldier in the war. You wonder if the poor boy you have come to love even gets any acknowledgement on his birthing day, or if grief is too overwhelming. “You have my deepest sympathies.”

Pero swallows the lump that always forms in his throat when he thinks about Maria and that fateful night. In a way, he’s glad he didn’t have to discuss it with you, to relive that horrid night, but another part of him knows he needs to discuss it with you, to tell you why he brought you here and has yet to consummate the marriage. That time is not now though with the children here. “Gracias, mi esposa. I- I would like to have supper with you tonight…if you want.”

Your head tilts in surprise but you don’t voice it. “That would be lovely, Don Tovar.” You murmur softly, aware that he is asking for a dinner that is apart from the children. “I will ask that Lola makes your favorite dish.” You offer, smiling slightly. “Do you have any preference for dessert?”

Pero’s gaze dips down to your cleavage. You are a beautiful woman and he has not indulged in pleasure since Maria died apart from a few times where he had spent his coin and then felt incredibly guilty after when he felt like he was betraying his beloved wife. Tonight is about giving your marriage a chance, giving you a chance when he’s been so closed off from you since your wedding night.

You don’t miss the way that your husband's eyes dip down to your breasts and you wonder if he has finally decided to acknowledge that he has a wife. You aren’t ignorant of the relationship between man and wife and yet you have still retained your chastity well into your marriage. Pero mumbles something about a sweet and you nod. “I will make sure that is what you get, if you so desire.”

He nods in appreciation and Luis takes his attention by handing him a cookie from the tray. “Gracias, mi amor.” Pero smiles at his son.

“Papa, will you come and ride with us tomorrow?” Alejandra asks, wanting him to join them for their riding lessons.

“I- I am busy, mija. I-”

Alejandra shakes her head, her lower lip trembling. “Papa. I want - please.” She begs and Pero looks at you, a little lost.

“Your Papa is a very busy man, sweetheart.” You remind her gently. “Although, I believe that he should be able to join you for at least one hour? Yes, Don Tovar?” You ask, glancing from Alejandra to your husband. It will allow the children to see their father and still not take too much time away from his busy work. Although you feel as if he spends much of his time working so he does not have to grieve. “How does that sound?”

Alejandra nods, “please papa. Just an hour. Por favor.” She pleads and Pero nods, not wanting to see his daughter so pouty.

“Sí, mi amor. An hour. Let’s go riding for an hour.” He compromises and she surges forward to hug his arm, “¡gracias, papa!”

You smile at your husband’s shocked face when his daughter smothers him in affection. Nodding when he looks over at you, asking if he is doing things right or perhaps seeking help. He’s doing something that will make his children very happy and it’s a good thing. “Now we need to finish eating.” You tell the children. “Papa needs to get back to work, so finish your lunch so we can leave him to it.”

Pero nods, rubbing Alejandra’s back and he leans down to kiss her head. He can’t deny the way his heart twists at how much he’s missed out on with his little girl and his son. He knows he needs to be a better father to them. “Let’s finish eating.” He says and Alejandra nods, letting go of her father to settle down to eat. Lunch is finished in companionable silence and Pero is soon kissing his children on the head, promising them he will have dinner with them tomorrow.

“Go start your studies again.” You tell the children, smiling when they rush off and you turn towards your husband, slightly flustered to be alone with him for the first time. “I will clean up and get this mess out of your hair.” You promise. “Thank you for not turning them away. They talk about their papa every day and want to spend time with you.”

Pero smiles, watching the children rush off after kissing his cheek then yours, and Pero watches them with his heart thumping. “Gracias, señora. You - you brought me back to my children and I- I never knew how to bridge the gap. I- I cannot repay you for that.”

“There is no need for repayment, Don Tovar.” You assure him, still calling him by his formal title since he has never permitted you to use his Christian name. “That is my job.” You know that he would rather be quit of your presence so you nod and quickly turn around to gather the meals up onto the trays to be carried back to the kitchen.

Pero swallows harshly, “please…call me Pero.” He says and reaches for your hand. He squeezes it, and his heart twists as he thinks about you and how beautiful you are yet he feels like he’s betraying Maria.

“P-Pero.” you murmur, feeling shy now that he has stopped you from your task. You bite your lip as you stare into his dark eyes, wishing that you could tell him how handsome you find him. “Is there - something else you wished for, Pero?” You ask quietly.

Pero stares at you for a moment before he withdraws his hand. This is progress but he knows he shouldn’t venture into his attraction to you. It will only lead to heartbreak, either his or the children’s. “No. That is all. I shall see you later for supper.” He says and clears his throat.

You are disappointed, knowing that he wanted something else but you don’t push him. He had shown that he had no wish to have a relationship with you. “Yes, Don Tovar.” You revert back to your formal politeness and you pick up one of the trays and you will send Carmen in to gather the other. “Good afternoon.”

Pero frowns, wishing to hear his Christian name from your lips and when you carry the tray out of the room, he leans back against the chair, sighing and rubbing his face. He wants this to work. He needs this to work. For the children’s sake. Dinner tonight will be his chance to redeem his terrible behavior.

The rest of the day is spent with the children. After asking Lola to make the Don’s favorite meal, you had finished their lessons and then took them down to the kitchen for both their dinner and their baths. Laughing when they pouted when getting into the water, and then pouting when they had to get out. Once they are clean and in their nightclothes, you chatter and joke with them as you take them back upstairs to put them to bed. Leaving you little time to get ready for dinner with your husband, but it is for the best. You had no time to think about why he wanted to have dinner with you now, so long after your marriage.

Pero adjusts his jacket - not the latest trends but well made, none the less- and he paces in the dining room, wondering if you aren’t coming as the minutes tick by. When you finally appear, you look beautiful and his heart flutters in his chest after laying dormant for so long. He strides forward, taking your hand in his and leans down to press his lips to the back of your hand. “Esposa, you look beautiful.”

“Forgive me for being late, Don Tovar.” You curtsy for him and hate how handsome he is in his evening jacket. “The children were begging for another story before bed and I could not say no.” Your own preparation for dinner had been rushed and you hope that he is not disappointed by your appearance.

Pero shakes his head, “don’t be silly, esposa. The children come first. I trust they are in bed?” He asks and you nod, “they are asleep and in bed.” You smile and Pero keeps your hand in his so he can guide you to your chair. He pulls it out and helps you sit before he makes his way over to his own seat.

Once you are seated, Pero sits across from you and Carmen immediately marches into the dining room with the first course. “Don,” you venture, smiling your thanks to Carmen as she sets down the soup. “I believe that we should hire more staff.” You tell him. “My maid also acts as the housekeeper and now she is serving our dinner. I believe that we need a butler and perhaps a full time housekeeper. That way we are not overworking our staff.”

“You are in charge of the household. If you wish to have another, I will have Carlos and Lola ask around in town.”

You lift a brow in surprise, your soup spoon nearly to your mouth and you take your bite and swallow before you respond. “Thank you, I will have them ask immediately.” You smile at him again and Pero glances back down at his own soup as if he is shy. “The children are excited about riding with you tomorrow. I was surprised they had not learned already but they have come so far in their lessons.” If it is a rebuke, it is a small one. The children had been very far behind in their lessons and some had not started at all. You had been working diligently to get them on track to where they should be. “They are very bright children. You should be very proud of them.”

Pero’s stomach twists with guilt. He barely knows his children. He doesn’t know that they are behind in their studies when you mention they have much to learn. The guilt twists in his stomach again and he knows he can’t hide from them anymore. “I am.” He answers softly, offering you a rare smile. You are so kind, he doesn’t want to tarnish you with his sins.

Surprised by the smile, you offer one of your own and hope that he is starting to care. You continue to eat in silence, waiting for Pero to talk to you but the silent sounds of eating settles between you. It’s sad, really. This man doesn’t have more questions about his children and doesn’t seem interested in them. When you are done, you set your spoon down and quietly wait for the next course.

Carmen brings in the next course and Pero is struggling to find the words to make conversation. It’s been so long since he had dinner with someone and he’s a little out of practice with his etiquette. “Are you liking Spain or do you miss your home?” He asks you after rubbing his hands together.

“Truly?” You shrug one shoulder and look down at the plate in front of you. “I have not seen much of the country since the carriage ride to your estate.” You remind him, trapped here by your husband’s wishes. “But what I have seen is beautiful. Carlos is very hopeful we can restore the gardens and the greenhouse to their former glory.” You had learned that Pero had ordered that the garden not be planted, just maintained. As flowers would die off, they would not be replanted. At least until you had arrived. You suppose it was because Pero’s first wife had loved spending time in the gardens. The little pond of water had apparently been her favorite spot.

Pero wants to bite out that the gardens are not to be touched but then he remembers why he brought you here to marry him. He needs someone to maintain his home. “Perhaps we can take a ride soon, I would like to show you my country.” He says softly and looks up after he cuts into his meat.

“I would like that.” He might not mean it. Might not ever do it, since he seems to blow so hot and cold, but you smile. “I have missed riding.” You haven’t gone for rides since the children would want to come with you and they were not accomplished enough to go so far and you do not know the area. “But there has been plenty to keep me busy. Have you any opinion on the changes, Don Tovar?”

Tovar looks out of the window to the beautiful gardens, now full of flowers after your dedication to the garden, and he turns to look back at you. “The gardens looks gorgeous, mi esposa.” He says and turns back to his meal. “You are bringing the estate back to its former glory.”

“Thank you.” You feel proud that even if he is a man who does not interact with you much, that he sees your improvements to his home. “Was there anything that you wished to discuss with me?” You ask quietly. “I thought that might be why you asked me to have dinner with you?”

Pero sighs, setting down his cutlery. “I wanted to discuss…if you were looking to have children of your own. We never got a chance to discuss it and I wanted to address the matter as it would mean us…consummating our marriage.” He says, trying to be as matter of fact as possible.

“I had hoped to one day have children.” You confess setting your own cutlery down and hate how handsome he is despite how aloof he acts. “I have put those dreams aside, now.” You look away, back down at your food and you aren’t hungry anymore. “It does not seem that you are interested in….consummating our marriage.”

Picking up his glass of wine, Pero knows he has failed in your marriage already. He’s been selfish and he isn’t sure how he can fix it. The thought of betraying Maria in this final way has his stomach twisting. “Are you- are you interested in consummating the marriage?” He asks softly.

You need to be honest with him. So you are. “I am not interested in being used.” You admit bluntly. “I have no experience with intimate relations, but I do know what to expect.” You assure him. “However, I would not accept being used to fulfill your needs and then ignored until the next time you have use of my body.” You could very well ruin your chances of any kind of relationship with Pero, but he asked. “You are a very handsome man, and I have found myself thinking about you often, but if you have every intention of satisfying your lust and then pretending I don’t exist until the next time you want to touch me, I would rather you just leave me untouched.

Pero nods, appreciating your candor and the way you hold yourself. It makes you more attractive to him. He sips his wine as he contemplates his answer. “I do not wish for you to feel used and I am not capable at this time of more than physical release. If you wish to experience pleasure, I will ensure you are satisfied with our marital bed. However, if you yearn for an emotional connection, then I would suggest we permanently place any relations on hold.”

You smile, albeit sadly. “Don Tovar, I have never expected love in an arrangement. I am not a silly, romantic girl. However, I will require you to respect me if we were to share our marital bed. Take your meals with me and perhaps some evenings beyond our pursuit of pleasure. I don’t require your heart, I know your first marriage was one of love and your affections still lay with your late wife.”

Pero is taken back by your refute to his offer but he appreciates your directness. “Very well. I assure you that I will try my best to ensure you are satisfied physically. Shall we - would tonight be appropriate or do you wish to wait until it happens naturally?”

You hum, amused by the idea of physical relations happening naturally with a man who has not spent more than two hours in your presence since you have been married to him. Perhaps it is foolish, but you want to know what it is like to be touched. “Tonight is fine.” You assure him and pick up your cutlery again. “Do you have any preference for physical intimacy? I do not have any reference, so I will need to be told if there is something I should not do. Or should do.”

Pero nods, “very well. Let us finish our meal and I will allow you as much time as you require to get ready for our consummation.” He assures you and continues to cut into his meal so he can finish eating. Dessert is soon served and you eat in companionable silence before the dishes are cleared away. “Take your time.” He tells you as he stands and waits for you to gather yourself from the dining room table.

You nod. “Give me twenty minutes.” You ask as he takes your hand to walk you to the stairs. “Then I will be ready.” You noticed that he did not answer you about his preferences but figure that he would just show you tonight. After all, it is a husband's job to teach his wife about how he prefers love making.

Pero watches you walk up the stairs and he exhales shakily, realizing that this will be a big step towards cementing your marriage as husband and wife tonight. He clears his throat and makes his way to his chambers to clean himself up. It’s been a while since he’s been intimate but he remembers that women do not like being with men who smell like a long day. He washes and dresses in his linen nightshirt, deciding to keep things simple for the act. Inhaling deeply, he makes his way down the hall to your chambers.

Tovar knocks on the door, heart thumping in his chest, and when you call out for him to come in, he slowly opens the door. “Hola, esposa.” He murmurs after he shuts it behind him. He takes in your figure, glowing in the firelight and his cock twitches under his shirt.

“Hello, husband.” You bite your lip and wonder how he will approach you and this. “What- what do you want me to do?” You ask, watching him carefully, more nervous than you had expected to be. You don’t think he will hurt you, but you had been told the first time is painful and that you would learn to enjoy it. “Do you wish me to get on the bed?”

Pero shakes his head, walking over to you to take your hands in his and he exhales shakily, suddenly nervous. It’s been so long since he’s been with a woman, especially his wife. His heart clenches when he briefly thinks of Maria but he pushes that aside. “Esposa, eres hermosa.” He murmurs, letting go of your hand so he can reach up to caress your cheek. You are beautiful and any man would be lucky to have you as their wife. You deserve better than him, than some half shell of the man he used to be. He slides his hand down to caress your neck and your collarbone, his fingers playing with the edge of your gown. “Can I take this off?” He asks, his dark eyes meeting yours, burning like embers in the flames of the fire.

Mouth dry from that simple touch, you nod. Watching him as his eyes seem to shine like a dark flame and you can help but to think that he is most handsome. His hands skim down over your waist and he tangles the material of your nightgown in his fingers and slowly starts to drag it up. Exposing you to the warmth of the fire and it makes you even hotter as your skin starts to burn from the simplest touch. Tonight you will just let him touch you, hopefully show you what he likes. Maybe you can help him by letting him find pleasure with you.

Pero tosses your gown to the floor and steps back, his dark eyes running down the length of your body. His eyes focus on your tits, swallowing harshly as his gaze lowers to the thatch of curls at the apex of your thighs. “Hermosa.” He murmurs, stepping closer to you, and he reaches out to caress your waist, pulling you up against his body. “Tell me if you want to stop. Or you don’t like anything.”

You nod, wanting to touch him but you don’t ask. Knowing you would hate feeling rejected if he pulled away. Your breathing stutters as his fingers slide up and brush the underside of your breast, nipple hardening and you bite your lip so you don’t moan wantonly. “Pero….” Your whisper is soft, pleading and you wonder why you are so eager to have this man touch you.

His hand squeezes your breast until he notices that you want to touch him so he reaches for your hand, bringing it to his chest. “You can touch me, esposa.” He assures you, inhaling the scent of your bath oil as he leans in to run his nose along the length of your neck.

His own dressing gown is hanging open at the neck and your fingers slide inside to touch hot, tanned skin. Biting your lip and trying to concentrate as his fingers brush over your nipple and make you gasp. Looking down, you see the gown tenting over his cock and your cheeks burn, but you are curious to see what it looks like, reaching down and brushing the fabric close so you can see better.

Pero hisses when your innocent fingers brush his cock. He reaches down, guiding you to wrap your fingers around him. His skin is hot and velvety and you explore him with utter lack of knowledge but he enjoys it. He likes that you have no expectations of him. He can just feel. He murmurs your name and his hand lets go of yours, letting you explore him while his palms continue their own adventure, palming your ass in his grip.

It feels wicked and yet you know that it is perfectly natural to touch him. You need to learn how he feels since he is perhaps the only man you would ever sleep with. Unless you remarry and your husband is obviously a hale and hearty man. “It is so hard.” You murmur in wonder. “And yet so soft.” You gasp when you feel a wetness on your skin and look down to see a smear of liquid on your finger.

He refrains from chuckling at your virginal observations. “Take your time, esposa. We are in no rush. No rush at all. I want to make sure you feel good.” He assures you and he slides his hand down between your legs, finding you wet and wanting him. He loves that and he is going to make you cum. From his fingers, from his cock. He finds your clit and loves the gasp that escapes you as he starts to rub the bundle of nerves.

Your eyes flutter closed and you hand to cling to his shoulder before your knees buckle. “Oh…ohhhh my….” You whimper, your grip on his cock loosening. You don’t know what he’s doing to you but you need more of it. “Pero.”

Pero grabs your waist, keeping you upright and pressed against him while he works your clit. His lips brush your neck by accident and you shiver against him. He rubs your clit a little faster, wanting you to cum for him for the first time. “That’s it, esposa.”

He doesn’t seem to mind touching you, increasing how fast he is rubbing but he’s groaning against your ear and encouraging you. For what you don’t know, you just know that your stomach is fluttering and clenching right up until stars burst behind your eye and you gasp as your cunt clenches on its own and a wave of heat floods your core.

Pero keeps you upright, working you through it and groaning when you bury your face in his neck. He groans your name softly and slides his finger back to gently push it inside of you, wanting to stretch you out so you feel less pain when he finally fucks you.

“Ohhhhhh.” Your eyes wide, mouth hit against his skin as you moan. Surprised to feel his fingers inside you and your body jolts when he pushes them up and presses against something inside you, “oh Pero.” You whimper, closing your eyes and unable to help yourself, you kiss his neck.

He curls his fingers, knowing he needs to make this good for you. He pushes his fingers a little deeper, loving the way you kiss his neck and he knows he should stop you but the intimacy makes his heart twist, his stomach clench. It’s been so long since he enjoyed the touch of someone else. “Fuck.” He curses, his cock twitching.

“Is this- is this how it feels?” You pant softly, your hips rocking up to his hand. Chasing the feeling that he pulls out of you. “All the time?” You are surprised that there aren’t more babies in the world if sex feels like this.

“Sometimes.” Pero chuckles softly, adding another finger, “sometimes it feels good, sometimes it’s just a physical release to relax. Quiero - I want you to feel like this all the time we are intimate, mi esposa.” He murmurs, his hand squeezing your ass to encourage you to rock down onto his fingers.

You feel so good, rocking on your feet as you wantonly move in your husbands arms. Kissing along his neck every time you grind down onto his finger, you feel that sensation start to build inside of you again. “Pero.” You whimper, clutching his shoulders and clenching around his fingers. “Pero- I- again- it’s- it’s-“ you cut yourself off with a small cry, another wave of pleasure and heat flooding you and making you forget about everything but the bliss of his fingers.

The way you clamp down on his fingers has his cock leaking. To hear you so unabashedly enjoying yourself has him groaning and he works you through it. His fingers soaked and he knows you are ready to take him. “Mierda.” He hisses, pressing his cock against your hip as you come back down to earth. Soon enough, he’s withdrawing his fingers and he wipes his fingers on his nightgown. “Come on, esposa. Lay down. I want to fuck my wife.” He says with a slight smile, knowing it’s taken way too long to get to this point in your marriage.

You hum, nearly floating on a cloud as you walk over to your bed and pull the covers back. Climbing into the bed and knowing that you will come out of it properly wed is thrilling and you lay back amongst the pillows. Watching as he walks towards you. “Are you going to remove your shirt, husband?” You ask softly, wanting to see your husband as fully as he has seen you. There is no love between you, but there will be passion and you wish to know what he looks like.

Pero bites his lip, wondering if he will be good enough. If you will like the scars on his body from his battles won in the war. He exhales shakily and nods, reaching for the hem of his shirt so he can lift it over his head, fully exposing his body to you as you lay in your bed.

He is strong, you can tell that from the corded muscles that spoke of your husband doing much more than just being an idle lord. Bunching and rippling as he stands still for you inspection, you don’t hesitate to let your eyes roam over him. Widening slightly when you get your first look at his cock without some fabric blocking your view. “You are…handsome.” You admit breathlessly. “It- you make my core throb.”

Your words surprise Pero and he smirks, slightly cocky that you are satisfied with his appearance. He shifts closer to the bed until he is kneeling on it, his fingers caressing your ankle bone and up your leg. “That’s good. That’s lust, esposa. Do you desire me? Do you want me inside or you?” He asks, kneeling between your thighs and he doesn’t touch you so you can make the final assessment before he consummates the marriage.

Even though you are innocent, you are aware of what should happen. Feeling bold by the lust that is in his own eyes, you spread your thighs to reveal the thatch of curls covering your core. “Please, Pero.”

“Mierda.” Tovar mutters and caresses your thighs. When he looks into your eyes and sees your certainty, he nods and reaches down to grip his cock. Shuffling closer, he notches himself at your entrance and slowly, so slowly, pushes inside of you. “Fuck.” He pants, trying to control himself but you’re so wet and tight. He exhales shakily and pushes deeper, wanting to make sure you are as comfortable as possible despite him taking your innocence.

You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling a pinch but it is not the painful experience that you had been led to believe that it was. Moaning softly as you feel him deep inside, seemingly deeper than his fingers had been, and throbbing. Your fingers dig into his shoulders again and you slowly open your eyes as you breathe out. “Pero.”

The urge to bury himself inside of you is strong but he remains in control, slowly rocking his hips so he can work his cock deeper inside of you until he is settled inside of you. He knows you are a keen horse rider so your innocence was likely taken during a saddling but he doesn’t care. He’s damaged goods himself and he knows some men would want you to be intact but this is kinder to you and to him. He closes his eyes once he’s fully inside of you, his fists clenched as he tries to not spill his seed before you can experience the pleasure of sex.

“I- I feel so full.” You whimper, your fingers dragging across his skin and your legs shuffling slightly. He’s so still on top of you and it makes you want to move, need to move. To chase the same sensation you felt when you had his fingers inside you. You gasp when you think of what you heard your maids back home giggling about. Riding a man as if he were a horse and you clench down around him thinking about riding Pero like that, his cock deep inside you.

Pero hisses when you clamp down on his cock and he inhales deeply. He reaches down to grab your thigh and he lifts it higher so he can sink deeper inside of you. “Fuck.” He pants and starts to move slowly.

You moan again, eyes widening at how well you feel him. “I- oh Pero.” You whimper, trying to roll you hips down but he has you nailed to the bed with his cock. “I-f-fuck.” You stammer out, the curse unfamiliar on your tongue but it feels like it is necessary for what you are feeling right now as your husband moves inside you.

Your curse has his cock twitching inside of you and he groans when your walls squeeze him. “Fuck, esposa. You feel - it’s - perfect.” He allows you a minute access to his thoughts and that seems to make you wild. Clamping down on his cock and arching your back to egg him on. He starts to move faster, lowering his hips and groaning your name as he tries to make this good for you.

You enjoy the rough sound of his voice. Moaning again as he starts up a rhythm to his movements and making you nearly gasp every time he pushes deep. You slide your hands down your back, playing over scars and working muscles rippling under the skin. You feel like he approved of your curse so you do it again, followed by his name. “It’s so intense.”

He likes to hear that because it’s a lot to him too. To be intimate with his wife. He never imagined he’d remarry but he starts to think it’s possible to have a marriage with you, to be able to survive without Maria…perhaps even be happy. He enjoys your touch and slides his hand up to cup your breast, squeezing and he shifts so he can lean down to take your nipple into his mouth.

You hadn’t expected his mouth. Wrongly assuming that kissing being too intimate meant any part of your body and not just your lips. “Pero!” You cry out loud enough that the servants might hear and arch your back up, wanting more of the pleasure of his mouth at your breast. “Oh fuck, oh fuck.” You whimper, shivering.

He loves hearing you curse, his cock twitching inside of you, and he switches over to your other breast. He bites down on your flesh, nipping and sucking, and he moves inside of you, grinding deep. “You like this, hermosa?” He asks, lost in the pleasure of being inside of you.

“Yes, yes Pero.” You moan, closing your eyes and lifting your legs to wrap them around his waist. You know that you are making him feel good. At least you hope you are. Feeling his thrusts start to build faster, his breathing catching and starting to pant against your skin. “So much.”

He grunts when he feels you starting to clench around him and he drops his hips so he can press his pelvis where you need him more. “Cum for me.” He pleads with a groan, needing to feel you cum before he finds his own high. “Por favor, esposa. Cum.” He demands and drags his tongue along your sternum.

You shiver at the feeling of his tongue on your skin. “Ohhhh Pero!” You cry out, body starting to shake underneath his with the next thrust of his hips as you start to fall apart. Pleasure whipping through every inch of your body as you moan.

He clenches his eyes shut when you clamp down on his cock and he bites down on your shoulder as he barely manages to pull out of you, his hot seed spilling on your thigh. “Fuck.” He pants, cock twitching against your hip as he rides his orgasm.

Your eyes open and you frown in confusion as you feel the wetness of his seed on your skin. “I- is something wrong?” You pant quietly, wondering if you’ve somehow disappointed him.

He frowns, pulling back to look down at you. “What are you talking about? I- nothing is wrong.” He’s trying to catch his breath and he shifts to lay down beside you. “It was good.” He assures you, “did you not enjoy it?”

“You-“ You bite your lip and look up at the ceiling. “You spilled your seed on my thighs.” You murmur quietly, wondering if there was something wrong with you that caused him to do that. He was supposed to finish inside you. That’s what everyone said.

Pero closes his eyes, trying to conceal the pain. “I know - I know we aren’t - tonight was our first night but - but I can’t risk you being with child so soon.” He admits, reminded once again of Maria dying during childbirth.

“I-I am so sorry.” You close your own eyes, mortified that you had brought up something so personal to him. “I understand. Forgive me for being so thoughtless.” You know you have ruined things and you swallow down a sigh.

Pero shakes his head, shifting to swing his legs over the side of the bed. “Don’t worry, esposa. I- I’ll leave you to clean up. I have work to attend to.” He declares as he stands and reaches for his nightgown. “I shall see you tomorrow.” He says, turning to look at you after he edged towards the door.

You nod. “Yes.” You know he wants to leave and you sit up, his seed cooling on your skin. “I will clean up and then choose another book from the library before I go to bed. Goodnight, husband.”

“Buenas noches, esposa.” Pero says and swiftly leaves your room. Tonight, he gave in to his desires and left you upset after he pulled out of you. He knows you will urge him to have a child soon and he isn’t sure he is ready for that conversation but for now, he will retire to his quarters to read over the accounts before he falls asleep. He’s not entirely sure how long he can continue keeping you at arms length but he has to try. He cannot lose another wife.

****

The next morning, you are surprised to find your husband in the dining room when you come in. “Buenas días, husband.” You see that he is reading some papers, so you move to your normal seat with the cup of tea you had retrieved yourself when you had gone in to see Lola. “I hope your night was restful.” You had decided that you understood where Pero stood on getting you with child and you wished to speak with him about it. “Have you ever used a- a condom before?” You ask him. “My maid back home said they can be purchased from the chemist. Perhaps that would be a good solution?”

Pero raises his eyebrows over his newspaper, watching you for a moment until he chuckles. “Is that what you wish for us to use? I am happy to let you manage our…situation if you wish.” He trusts you and he isn’t sure when that changed.

“You said that you did not wish for me to be - to have a child.” You don’t add the ‘yet’ portion because you feel like he would rather that be ‘at all’. “So a co-condom would help.” You shrug, slightly self conscious now. “We don’t have to use one.”

Pero nods, understanding what you are saying and he appreciates your planning. “Let us have Carmen fetch us some things and then we have the choice.” He says, knowing that it will be hard to keep away from you now that he knows how you feel. The passion inside of you scares him and he knows if he allows it, he will lose himself in you. He can’t put his heart back on the line and the children need a mother. With a nod, he goes back to eating his pan con tomate and knows that you will take care of the issue of birth control.

Carmen brings you a plate of food and you thank her, eating in silence with your husband. You had not expected grand conversations with him, at least at the beginning, so you do not try to disturb him with idle chit chat and when you stand after finishing, you give him a small smile. “Have a good day, husband.” You wish him softly.

Pero watches you go and realizes that maybe he doesn’t just want this to be a marriage of mutual benefit. He finishes his breakfast in peace and decides to spend the rest of the day near the children.

****

“Where is my wife?” Pero asks Carmen, who frowns, “she’s in her chambers, Don Tovar.” She answers and Pero frowns, making his way to your rooms and he is even more confused when he enters and calls your name, only to find you aren’t there.

Biting your lip, you urge the horse faster. Knowing that you are breaking your word to your husband, but it cannot be helped. Luis is feverish, and Carmen and Lola had been nowhere to be found when you had gone searching for them. Frantic about your husband’s son, you know it would destroy Pero to lose the last bit of his wife that she had given him. So you broke your promise. Currently racing to town to fetch the doctor, you pray that the instructions you had given his sister were working and that you will be able to bring the doctor back from town in time.

When Pero finds the children, he’s frantic when he’s told that Luis has a fever and you have left to go to town to find the doctor. He can hardly contain his anxiety, his hands shaking, and he growls at Carlos, “I’m going to fucking find her!” He feels like he’s losing control, his heart pounding and his breathing is heavy. His legs feel like lead and his brain focuses on you and his children. Is Luis dying? Is this his punishment for his time in the war? Is he going to lose you? He pants and collapses to his knees, Carlos reaching out to steady him as his vision goes cloudy. “I- I - can’t save them.”

It is to your detriment that you haven’t been to town, wasting precious time to find the doctor and demanding that he come with you back to the Tovar estate. Shaking with fear and praying that you make it back in time to help your little boy. You didn’t give birth to him, but you have grown close to the children and you have come to love their personalities now they are being taught and challenged, time being spent with them. The mischief of your first meeting was long gone. Rushing to your horse and as soon as the doctor is mounted on his own, racing for home.

Pero manages to stand up, shoving Carlos away as he demands to know where you’ve gone. “I - Alejandra said she’s gone to the town.” Pero doesn’t waste a second, rushing to the stables and swinging his leg over his stallion, no saddle, he pushes the horse to the limit as he gallops towards town. Images of you injured or dead flash in his mind and he realizes how you have wiggled his way into his mind and heart. Your kindness and the feel of you beneath him have his heart twisting at the thought of anything happening to you.

Frowning, you spot a rider in the distance on the road. Unsure of who it might be, you glance back at the doctor who is on your horses heels and then forward again. Recognizing the haste in the way you see the horse being pushed, dread knots in your stomach, realizing that it must be your husband. Lifting a hand, even though he is too far away to shout to, you wonder if he will beat you for disobeying him.

Pero sees you as he gallops and he nearly falls off of the horse when he pulls on its hair to slow it down. “You - what the fuck do you think you are you doing?” Pero yells as you approach him and the doctor’s horse skids as he comes to a stop.

“Luis! Luis has a fever!” You cry out, panting for breath as your horse stomps and shakes underneath you, “I- I had to get the doctor.” Your own mother had died from a fever sickness and the idea of losing his little boy on your watch makes you want to be sick. “I- we must hurry Pero! He cannot die, not like mama!”

Pero nods, knowing that now is not the time to have this argument. “You’re unharmed?” Pero asks and you nod frantically. His heart is pounding but you are safe and unharmed from what he can tell so he turns his horse around and the three of you gallop back to his estate, back in front of the sick little boy in record time. Pero kneels beside Luis, watching the doctor and he swallows harshly, “por favor. Just - do something.”

You twist your hands, knowing that Pero is worried and you start to pray yourself. Carmen has Alejandra in the other room and you can hear her comforting the older child. The doctor works and you worry, pacing the floors continuously, eager to bring the doctor anything he might need and bringing in the basin of cold water that Lola brings up.

Pero holds his son’s hand while the doctor assesses him and murmurs prayers as you kneel beside him. He reaches for your other hand, squeezing it as he prays and the doctor starts to drain the boy’s blood in hopes of bringing down the fever. “Bleeding should help the fever break. If not, I have some bark I think will help.”

Pero swallows, his throat is dry, “whatever you can do. I- I can’t lose him.”

You try to be there for him. Sitting strong and praying as the doctor continues to bleed the boy until he claims that it is enough. Wiping him down and checking his forehead again with a small frown before he moves over to the teapot he had requested with boiling water. You squeeze Pero’s hand and glance at your husband’s worried face.

Pero doesn’t know how long he lays there, his heart and mind weary as he watches his son. The doctor gave him the tea and left, stating it “is in God’s hands now.” He’s not eaten, he hasn’t slept. He just sits there and watches the little boy breathe. He doesn’t know where you are, he sometimes wonders but he’s too concerned about his son.

You watch. Waiting for anything and everything that Pero or Luis might need. Often leaving the room to comfort Alejandra and to let her know how her brother is doing. You don’t want her to feel forgotten and eventually you allow her to come into the room after promising to be quiet. The two of you sit in a chair behind Pero and eventually curl up together and fall asleep together from exhaustion and worry.

Pero isn’t sure when he fell asleep, perhaps the exhaustion got to him and he simply rested his head on the cool sheets, his eyes closing without his knowledge. “Papa.” He doesn’t hear the weak murmur at first. “Papa.” A small hand touches his hair and Pero’s nose wrinkles. “Papa.” The voice is stronger and wakes Pero up, his head shooting up to see Luis lucid and awake.

“Luis” He gasps, reaching for him to check his views. His eyes are clear, his forehead cool but not cold. He’s okay. “Mi amor.” Pero chokes, wrapping his arms around the little boy to pull him into his arms.

You wake up, rousing Alejandra in your arms and nearly sob with relief that Luis is awake and alert. “Mama, is Luis okay?” Alejandra demands, her own worry for her brother causing her to not think about what she calls you. Your eyes widen and you try not to tear up at the honorary name, nodding and brushing her tangled hair back from her face and holding her close despite being on your lap. “It looks like he is.” You hum. “Go hug him and your papa.”

Alejandra nods, rushing over to her papa and her brother and she wraps her arms around them. Pero shifts, gathering the children into his arms and he sniffs, trying to ignore the tears that sting in his eyes as he embraces them. “Te amo, mijos.” He murmurs and looks over at you, “come here, esposa.” He gestures for you to come over to them.

Standing up, you are happy to see such a touching moment between the small family. You know you are a part of it now, but they are reminders of his wife and very dear to him. Walking over, you ruffle Luis’ hair and smile. “You gave us all a fright, Luis.” You hum, sliding your hand to your husband’s shoulder.

Pero reaches up to grip your hand in his, his terror at losing you or one of his children now subsided and in its place is joy that he doesn’t have to suffer another loss. The four of you embrace until Carmen comes in to attend to Luis, wanting him to eat something and drink. Pero tells Alejandra to stay with her brother and she nods. “I need to speak with you.” Pero says to you, his voice deepening as he reaches for your hand.

You swallow, aware that he will now punish you. You had disobeyed him and you know from everyone that Pero is a stern man. You follow him quietly, wondering why he is still holding your hand as he guides you out of the nursery towards your bedroom.

When Pero opens the door to your chambers, he pushes you inside. “What were you thinking?” He hisses, dropping your hand as he glares at you, “I told you to never go into town.”

“I was thinking that Luis was in danger.” You won’t apologize for your actions, but you understand his anger. “He needed the doctor and I could not find anyone.” You stand straight and stiffen your spine. “If you punish me, that is you right. But I would do it again. My mother died of fever and I did not want you to lose your last gift from your wife.”

Your words take Pero back and his jaw drops, staring at you as he absorbs your words. Your kindness knows no bounds it seems and that’s the moment it clicks for Pero. Unable to stop himself, he surges forward and you think he’s about to hit you but he doesn’t, instead, his lips press against yours.

You had flinched, you could admit that yourself but then you are gasping against Pero’s mouth, shocked that he is kissing you. He had told you that he wouldn’t do that again; it was too intimate for him. Yet his lips are warm and soft against yours and you cannot help but melt into him.

His hands grip your waist and his mouth moves against yours, his tongue sliding along your lower lip as he pulls you up against him. You moan into his mouth and his hands reach down to tug your skirts up, his hands soon pulling his cock free from his breeches, hard and aching. He needs you and he hopes you want him too.

You had expected a beating, not for your husband to fuck you. But you aren’t going to push him away. Your fingers tug on your petticoats and you quickly push them down. “Husband.” You gasp out when he pulls his lips away. “Please.” You whimper, enjoying his apparent need for you.

His hand grabs your thigh, lifting it over your hip so he can position his cock at your entrance and he pushes inside of you with a groan. “Fuck, hermosa.” He murmurs, caressing your thigh as he pushes deeper.

“Oh god.” You would probably collapse if he didn’t have his hand on your waist and use his strength to keep you upright. Wanting to kiss him again, you wonder if that was a fluke and he wouldn’t kiss you but you turn your head to kiss along his jaw while he throbs inside you.

He turns his head to kiss you, pressing his lips against yours as he starts to move inside of you. You’re so wet and tight and alive. You’re alive. He focuses on you and your touch, his mouth moving against yours as he presses you against the wall.

You had never considered that your husband could fuck you against a wall, and yet, it’s thrilling. You moan into his mouth and cling to him, not caring that his hips push you back against the wainscoting every time he thrusts into you. Your own tongue touches against his and your entire body shivers with pleasure.

“Fuck. Mi esposa. I- Don’t want to lose you.” He murmurs, kissing along your jaw, and he kisses down your throat as he lifts your hip a little higher so he can push deeper inside of you. “Fuck. Please. I need - I need you.”

“Pero.” You whimper, closing your eyes and letting him do whatever he needs to you. You are starting to fall for him, especially with how he worried for Luis.

It’s hard to imagine his days without you now. Cold nights alone have turned into passionate escapades scattered throughout the day, touches leading through the night. He has tried to stay away but you’ve drawn him in. He continues to work his cock in and out of you, groaning as he presses his lips to yours again.

Closing your eyes, you give yourself over to him completely. Clinging to him as he fucks you so deeply you know they you will be feeling him for days after. Even though he’s not wearing a condom, you expect him to pull out and spill his seed outside your body. The condom had been great and you loved the feeling of him pulsing inside you.

Pero kisses along your jaw, breathing you in and he needs you to clamp down on his cock. He grabs your other thigh, lifting you up completely as the adrenaline surges through him and he grunts as he lifts you up and down his cock, still pressing you against the wall.

Gasping, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and try to wrap your legs around him, your skirts bunched between you. “Fuck, Pero, I- I love you.” You moan quietly; needing to at least whisper it even though he doesn’t feel the same way. “So close.”

He hears it but he doesn’t respond. Instead, he presses his lips to yours and when you whine into his mouth, he groans against your lips when you clamp down on his cock. He should pull out but he doesn’t, too focused on you and how you feel and how he could’ve lost you. He grunts and keeps thrusting you through your orgasm until finally, he’s pushing deep and filling you full of his hot seed, painting your walls.

Your eyes widen and you are too busy worrying about the feeling of his hot seed inside you. Knowing he will regret it you are savoring this one moment. “Pero- Pero you have to let me- I have to bathe.” You whimper.

He doesn’t release you, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pants again at your chin, enjoying the feel of you surrounding him. “Don’t.” He murmurs, not wanting to let you go just yet. He can’t lose another person from his life that he cares for.

You frown but you don’t push him away, deciding that he knows what he is doing. “Okay, husband.” You pant softly, feeling him throb inside of you and start to soften. “Is-is this my punishment?” You ask teasingly.

Pero chuckles softly, pulling out of you and lowering you down to the floor. Your skirts settle down and he reaches down to tuck his cock back into his breeches. “No punishment.” He assures you and reaches for your hands, “please…just do not go into town unless you are escorted.” He compromises, knowing that it will be hard to overcome his anxiety surrounding town but he cannot keep you prisoner.

You bite your lip, aware that your husband is compromising. “Yes.” You murmur softly, leaning in and pressing your lips to his cheek. You don’t want to push him for more than he will give you so you won’t kiss him on the lips unless he kisses you first. “Thank you, Pero.” You hum, smiling as you pull back to look into his dark eyes. “I will have an escort.”

Pero nods, letting go of your hands and he is pleased that he could compromise. The idea of you going into town terrifies him, he doesn’t want to lose you. The children clearly love you and he - he has affection for you.

****

Pero looks up at you as you enter the dining room. He stands up, walking over to pull your chair out for you, taking over the job from the footman. “You look beautiful, esposa.” He murmurs, caressing your cheek as you stand before him and he helps you sit down.

“Thank you.” You give Pero a smile, but you’re slightly nervous. Your monthly time has been missed for several months now and you woke up feeling nauseous and your breasts being sore. You are with child and while your husband has become warmer to you, you don’t know how he will react. It’s true that there have been several times since the day Luis was sick that he hasn’t worn the condom, he had also still worn it and never said anything about having children with you or your confession of your feelings. You’ve never repeated those words again. “I’ll just have some weak tea and toast.” You tell the footman before he disappears to let Lola know you are ready for breakfast.

Pero frowns, usually you order more at breakfast and he wonders if you are unwell. “Are you ill, esposa?” He asks and wonders if you are okay. He watches you as you eye the cup of tea with a grimace and he calls Carlos over to order the doctor to come to the house.

“I think that I might have some kind of stomach malady.” You admit with a small groan, covering your nose from the aroma of the tea. “It should pass.” You have an idea of what is wrong but you don’t wish to alarm Pero.

Pero is concerned but knows the doctor will help you and Carlos will ensure his swift arrival. Your breakfast is hardly touched and he will inform Carmen to let Lola know to prepare a light but generous lunch for you. He is concerned, knowing how Luis was and he’s terrified that you are going to end up with the same fate.

After breakfast, you still feel ill, laying down and resting even though you know you should be watching the children. You feel dizzy and nauseous and you wonder if all women feel this way when they are pregnant. You are sure that is what is going on, emptying your stomach of the tea and the few bites of toast you had managed into the chamber pot under your bed.

Pero greets the doctor, escorting him to your chambers. This is the same doctor who was present when Maria died and the midwife called for him after there were complications. The two men exchange a look before Carmen announces the doctor’s arrival. “I will leave you to it.” Pero says after everyone enters.

“Oh, I didn’t know Pero was calling a doctor.” You sit up, embarrassed and hoping that the nausea has passed. “I am afraid that I am not quite feeling myself.” You admit when he tuts and brings his bag over. “I think- I think I might be ….” You lower your voice. “Expecting.”

The doctor nods, “very well. Let us check and we can confirm, Señora Tovar.” He says softly and under Carmen’s watchful eye, he performs his tests. Feeling your stomach, he smiles. “Congratulations, Señora. You are with child.” He offers you a soft smile and Carmen grins, “congratulations.”

“Thank you.” It’s a relief to know that is what is wrong, but you wonder how Pero will take the news that you are expecting his child. “What can be done about the nausea?” You ask him softly. “My mother died young and I have never been around someone expecting.”

“I have a tea I can provide your cook with to assist with the sickness.” The doctor informs you and is soon bidding you goodbye. When the doctor exits your quarters, Pero looks up, eyes questions and the doctor pats his shoulder. “I believe your wife had good news.” Pero swallows, knowing what that means and he thanks the doctor before Carlos escorts him out.

Exhaling shakily, he walks over to your room and knocks, entering your chambers to find you sitting on the edge of the bed. He sits down beside you and reaches for your hand, “esposa.”

“I’m sorry, Pero.” You start quietly, looking down at your joined hands. “I know that you wished to wait, or to never have children with me.” You are worried that he will be upset, that it will ruin the closeness you have felt with him lately. “I do not know what happened. I’m - I am going to have your child.”

He squeezes your hand, “don’t know what happened? I think I do.” He chuckles softly. “And…and I’m not angry about it. I knew what could happen and you are an incredible mother to Luis and Alejandra. I think you’ll be amazing.” He assures you, “and I - I want to have a child that is half you and half me.”

You let out the breath you had been holding and smile. Relieved that he is not upset and you are able to be excited for the first time. “I think it will be wonderful.” You admit, although you frown after a moment. “I promise I will not go into town, even with an escort, when my time draws near.” You don’t want him to worry about another wife, even if he doesn’t love you, he would worry.

Pero nods his gratefulness, knowing you now understand his anxiety and reaction. Especially after you ran off to fetch the doctor. He knows he is going to be even more protective of you. “It’s good news, hermosa.” He promises, leaning in to kiss your forehead, brushing his nose against yours until his lips brush your lips.

You’ve found there is comfort in his kisses. A certain sense of home that you’ve not found anywhere else as the nights in his bed progressed. It was often you ended up sleeping together after your pleasure but you had never voiced that sentiment of love again. You desperately want to say it again, but you are afraid to, afraid of being reminded that you are not his late wife and he had warned you that he wouldn’t love you.

****

As your pregnancy progresses, Pero gets more and more anxious. He’s nervous of the birth, reminded once again of Maria dying after giving birth to Luis. He swallows harshly as he leans against the wall, trying to calm his racing heart. You’re going to give birth soon according to the midwife and each day makes his anxiety threaten to overwhelm him.

Every day that passes, you can see your husband slowly start to unravel. He is sleeping less and worrying about you. Not even allowing you on the stairs without someone. Making you ring a bell to have someone come help you. Most often he works from your chambers, moving his work to your writing desk. You sigh as you slide your hand over your stomach, panting slightly. The pains had started last night but you had kept it from him, knowing he wouldn’t sleep and he desperately needed the rest.

Pero sees Carmen rushing through the halls and she slows down when she sees him. “What’s happening?” He asks, frowning, and the young woman bites her lip. “Tell me.” He demands and Carmen knows she can’t deny him, “she’s having pains. The birth is happening. I must fetch the midwife.” Carmen rushes out and Pero’s eyes widen.

“Fetch the doctor too. I will take no chances.” He says and Carmen nods, rushing off. Pero drops everything he is doing and rushes to your chambers, “esposa. Is it true? You’re having pains?” He asks, eying you in the chair in the corner.

You would deny it, to spare him a bit more time but another pain makes you clutch your stomach. Bending over slightly as you start to moan quietly. It lasts for a long time and by that time you relax, you are panting. “I am.”

Pero rushes over to you. Guiding you over to the bed, “come, you must lay down.” He shakes his head, trying to take your shoes off. “Why didn’t you send for me?” He asks, caressing your ankle as you settle against the pillows.

“You have not been sleeping.” You remind him quietly. “I know you need rest and if I told you, there was not any rest in your future.”

Your whimpers make his heart clench and he shakes his head. “Mi - esposa. Come, do not worry about me. I will worry until the babe is in your arms and you are well and healthy.” His voice wavers for a moment and he wonders if you notice as he wipes your forehead of the beads of sweat.

“It will be well.” The midwife has assured you that you are carrying well for a first time birth and believes that it will be a simple thing. Reaching for his hand, you smile at him softly. “I have already asked that you be allowed in the birthing room if you need.”

Pero is surprised and pleased, kissing your damp forehead. “I won’t leave you.” He promises and brushes his lips against yours. “I’ll be here. Every single second.” He vows as Carmen comes back in with water and a flannel.

You get changed into a clean nightgown, Carmen helping you although you don’t mind your husband being there. He has seen you naked more than your own nanny when you were a child. Getting settled back down into the bed, you grip Pero’s hand and cry out when the next pain washes over you.

Pero lets you squeeze his hand as you try to ride the pain. You whimper and Pero frowns, “where is the midwife?” He asks, starting to get impatient. “And the doctor? I called for him as well.” He growls, looking over at Carmen.

“They are coming, Don Tovar.” She assures him, knowing that he is worried about his wife. Everyone has seen how much the Don has come to care about his wife and they are all happy for him. You are kind and loving and it will be good for him to love again. “The doctor is impressed with your wife and has already said he will come whenever summoned.”

“He needs to be here. I will allow no one to take a singular risk. I won’t have my wife’s health and the baby’s health put in danger.” He hisses and squeezes your hand when you groan at the pain. “Are you - you need anything?” Pero asks, wanting to make sure you have everything you need.

“Water.” You beg quietly. Labor is harder work that you realized and you feel parched from it.

Pero nods and squeezes your hand again. “Whatever you want.” He promises, kissing your hand and rushing over to the tray Carmen had brought you earlier.

Pero returns with the water, letting you sip it and he wipes your forehead with the wet rag Carmen hands him. It seems like the sun is setting when you are finally ready to push. The midwife checking you and announcing it’s time. Pero is terrified, this was the time Maria lost too much blood. He remembers the sheets being soaked with it as Luis cried. He grips your hand, sweat beading on his brow as his heart starts to pound

Clenching your teeth together, you try to make sure that you don’t scream during the next pain. It makes Pero uneasy every time, he pales when you scream and grip his hand as tight as you can. You know that he is scared and even though you are in pain, you’re worried about him.

Pero feels unwell but tries to stay strong, each clenched scream bringing you closer to having his next child and he is terrified. Terrified of losing you. During your marriage, he has grown close to you. Spending many nights in your bed, even if he hadn’t touched you. He can’t imagine his life without you now. “Come on hermosa, you can do it. Push.” He urges you on, wanting you to concentrate.

Nodding, you sit up slightly and start to push. Bearing down with all your might, you see the midwife between your thighs as you start to feel more pressure.

Pero watches you push, his eyes darting between you and the midwife and he’s worried, he’s so scared that he’s gonna lose you. His hand grips yours as he watches you push and he’s silently praying.

“I can’t- it is too much.” You gasp out, falling back against the sheets as you pant.

The midwife clicks her tongue and looks up at you. “One more push, señora, and the bebita will be in your arms.” She promises you. “Next time the pain comes you push as hard as you can.”

“You can do it, hermosa. You can do it.” He eggs you on, sweat beading on his forehead as he watches you struggle. “Come on, mi amor. Come on.” He says, wiping your forehead.

You close your eyes, tears leaking out of the corners as you barely hear the words that you have wished for far longer than you should have. Holding his hand, you nod, bearing down with all your strength and pushing your baby into the world. Feeling them slip from your womb with a rush of relief.

Pero watches the midwife cradle the crying babe, her smile wide and Pero starts to cry, relieved and so happy at seeing his child born. “Felicidades, Don Tovar, it’s a boy.” She announces and Pero leans in to kiss your head.

“A boy, amor,”

“A boy.” You sob, exhausted and relieved and more than a little emotional about hearing ‘amor’ again. Almost terrified that he is thinking of his late wife and reliving that horrible night with a happier ending through you. “We have another son.” You pant, reaching for the baby when the midwife hands him to you.

Pero looks down at the screaming babe in your arms. His eyes sting with tears and he looks at you in awe. “A boy. Another boy.” He murmurs, kissing your forehead. “Amor.”

“He’s beautiful.” You murmur quietly, brushing your hand over his wet forehead. “Perfect.” His ten little fingers are curled into fists and he has ten perfect little toes. “Isn’t he?” You ask, looking up at your husband after you manage to tear your eyes away from your new baby.

Pero leans in to rest his forehead against yours, loving how you are cradling the baby and he knows Luis and Alejandra are excited for his arrival. “He’s perfect. So is his mother.” He murmurs, caressing the baby’s head.

You hum, not sure how to take that and look back down at the baby. He’s turning his face towards you and crying, searching for your breast. “Put him on the breast.” The midwife tells you. “Your milk will come.” You nod, opening your nightgown and guiding him towards your breast and gasping when he latches into your nipple.

Pero watches in awe, the midwife working on helping you with the afterbirth and the baby mouths at your nipple. Pero kisses your forehead again, he’s so perfect. You’re perfect. Hermosa, I- I love you.” Pero chokes, never imagining that he’d fall in love again but he couldn’t help it, you’re too beautiful and kind. The children love you and you’ve made his life so much better.

Your eyes widen and you look up at Pero in shock. “You- you love me?” You ask in astonishment, sure that would never happen for you. He nods and you start to cry. “I love you too Pero, I love you and our three children.”

Pero leans in to kiss you, “I love you. So much. I- I didn’t think - after Maria - you’ve brought this home, my children…me…back to life.” He murmurs and kisses your forehead. “Mi esposa, hermosa, amor. You are everything to me. I owe you the world.” He murmurs, looking down at the little boy.

Your smile is watery, but overjoyed. You had come to Spain to marry a man you didn’t know and was told that he could never love you. Now you have a beautiful son, two other children that adore you and your them, and a loving husband. Your father had chosen right. You were a family.

#pedro pascal #pero tovar #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar smut #pero tovar fanfic #pero tovar the great wall #regency pero tovar x reader #regency pero tovar #tovar x you #tovar x reader #tovar x f!reader #tovar smut #tovar fanfiction #tovar imagine

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writingoddess1125 · 7 months

Note

I just finished reading your one piece work about how many kids they have lol , and reader seemed AWFULLY happy about how many of them there is , can you do one where reader is a long time wife/partner of them and is not very thrilled, I just need angst in my life😭💀

Ohhh I love some angst!!

It's Done

Asshole Mihawk x FemReader

Angst + Saddness

Support me in Ko-Fi ....haha I'm Poor-

It was rare for you to summon him- As his wife he was used to you being one to not speak with him much. In the past you'd been a chatterbox much to his annoyance, but greatful you had quieted down over the coming years. However when the Transponder Snail on his desk informed him that you'd requested him he was surprised if not mildly intrigued.

Marching down the hallway to you as you saw you, dressed like you were preparing to go outside and eating a fine charcuterie board and sipping on one of his best bottles of wine- much to his ire.

You look up from your glass of wine. Seeing Mihawk step into the room with a bottle of his own drink of choice- Silence filling the room as he looked you over.

"You wished for me wife?" He questioned with his usual stoic manner.

"Another letter- This time a women from East Blue, it's a girl" You say blandly, Tossing the letter on the table as you set down your glass. He didn't seem amused by this, only giving a annoyed sigh and stepping forward prepared to grab the letter however you slammed a manilla envelope on top of the letter before he grabbed it. Yellow eyes looked at you annoyed-

"What is this?-"

He grumbled, you waving off his question for him to just open it. Grabbing the manilla envelope he proceeded to open it, His eyes widening at the stack of papers inside and seeing in bold letters what was written on top. Divorce Decree-

"(Y/N) What is the meaning of this" He hissed and tossed the envelope back down on the table, You pouring yourself another glass of wine.

"Divorce papers, I've already taken the liberty of filling my name on it already" He picked them up again to look for himself- seeing you had indeed signed all the papers already.

You stayed calmly, his face swirling with emotions as he held the papers with a tightened grasp. Clearly anger bubbling below the surface.

"This seems like a extreme reaction to a small issue" He stated calmly, You raising a brow at his statement as you sipped your drink and ate some more of the charcuterie board you'd laid out for yourself.

"Is it?" You question, eating some more till Mihawk reached over and slid the board away from you to stop eating as he stared hard at you- your hands quick to grab your wine glass too before he took that.

"This is a one time thing, it was a drunken-"

"87" You said calmly, drinking down your final glass of wine. He looked at you in question.

"Pardon?-"

"This is your 87th child with a stranger. 48 boys, 39 girls- 25 in the East Blue, 21 in the west, 30 in the North and 11 throughout the Grandline" You recited calmly, his face going to one of shock at hearing your words so blandly spoken or that you knew to the agree of unfaithful he was.

"So what was that about this being the final one?" You ask, standing from your chair to knock the crumbs off your outfit.

"It is natural in wanting to spend time with someone who can provide-" He stated as he watched you prepare to leave.

"Well then its natural that I want a divorce, it's not MY fault that you can't go a few days without fucking some stranger or that you seem to like to like to get every person you meet pregnant" You hissed, Mihawk glaring at you.

"And It is not my fault you are barren- So dont blame me that I spread my legacy elsewhere" He shot back, His words like that final knife to your heart as you stood in the doorway. Mihawk regretted those words the moment they left him, sighing as he rubbed his temple his lips feeling like fire for saying such a thing.

"That.. isnt what I ment I apo-"

"Dont- You're right it's not your fault... just how it's not my fault you're a cheater bastard. We are done Mihawk. My stuff has already been packed and sent away, I will he out of here by tonight" You stated calmly and leaving your library one last time-

"(Y/N)! This is utterly childish and ridiculous" He angrily yelled as he followed you down the hallway. You just grabbing the last suitcase you had set by your former bedroom door.

He grabbed your wrist suddently to stop you from stepping further but you spun around and smacked him hard. The wedding ring still on your hand slicing him across the cheek, as he quickly released your wrist to touch the bloody cut.

You slid off the ring, ignoring the tinge of his blood in it and slammed it into his free hand.

"You will never touch me again-" You all but hiss, disgust dripping from your lips like a venom that shot through his vains.

"(Y/N) it is ignorant to give up an entire relationship for a character flaw- I've been a good husband in other regards" You couldn't help but snort a laugh at this-

"You a good husband? Please tell me, when is my birthday? When was the last time we had sex? Last time you kissed me, Hell last time you even uttered the words I love you? Oh here's a good one when did we get married?" You ask him, He opened his mouth but he couldn't think of an answer to any of those- You smiled sarcastically.

"I thought so... By the way, Our wedding anniversary is today"

His heart sank.. was it really?... he relooked at the divorce papers to see the date of Marriage and he felt a burn of guilt in his chest at the sight- indeed it was today.. 20 years to the day.

He opened his lips to try and conjoure up words to wipe away his actions but he couldnt.. instead looking to your eyes and that's when it hit him- He was no better then a stranger to you seeing the indifference in your gaze at him- Not angry, not sad but just.. indifferent like he was just another person to you.

Sensing that he now understood the true gravity of this all you nod, Grabbing your coat from the rack and slipping it on and set down your copy of the keys to the manor on the side table.

"...You have a wonderful rest of your life Mr. Dracule" You say sternly before walking out of the manor, the Warlord only standing there in a state of shock as his world suddently got so much darker.

#x reader #one peice x reader #one piece #one peice live action #mihawk x reader #hawkeye mihawk #one piece mihawk #dracule mihawk #op mihawk #riding the angst train #angst #Mihawk angst

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talas-starlight · 3 months

Text

Scarred Spirits - Zuko x fem!reader (pt.7)

Summary: reactions from team avatar when they find out your ozais assassin

warning: mentions of scars, not very happy gaang, mean katara!, angst

masterlist: here!

most previous part: here! (all other parts can be found in my masterlist!)

authors note! hello!! idk if anyone will be reading this but if you are welcome!! i haven't posted to this series in YEARS so please forgive me as I'm very rusty at writing but please enjoy!

Unified screams erupted upon Appa. “YOU’RE WHAT!”

“Aang what have you done! You literally let a murderer on Appa! She’s going to kill all of us! Katara was right, and I can’t believe I ignored her.”

“I KNEW IT! Quickly Aang, land Appa and let’s get her off!”

Unable to take it anymore, Toph lost her cool. “Can you knuckle heads shut up! I highly doubt that she will kill us, why the hell would she listen to you guys fighting all the time when she could end her misery by taking you out.”

Reality hitting Sokka and Katara, they finally piped down, allowing Toph to continue.

“Look, what you said is highly questionable. I’m not saying that I trust you, but you’re going to have to give us more information than that or else I’ll throw you off myself. Got it?”

You sighed. At least someone in the group had more sense. “Yeah, of course. What would you like to know?”

“Well for starters a name would be great. Oh and maybe, I don’t know, how and why you’re the Fire Lords Assassin?!”

You almost wanted to pull Katara’s braid for the irritating look of satisfaction on her face. “Right okay… well my name is y/n. uhhh and I was forced to become his assassin when he caught me after I broke into the palace three years ago.”

“That’s it?! Nuh uh lady. I know he’s the Fire Lord and had done some awful things but why would he do that to a child?! You’re either lying or somethings still missing.”

There was a lot to weigh up. To suddenly reveal everything about you would be too much and would get you thrown off Appa anyway. Yet to reveal nothing wouldn’t let you gain enough trust to even last a day. Leaving you to share the one thing you knew so little about yourself that you didn’t care if they knew and hopefully enough of a miserable, pitying tale that they’d let you off the hook for the time being.

“My parents aren’t in my life, they never were. I don’t know who they were or why they did it. All I had was my trainer, Zemin. In his time, he was the most notorious Assassin in the entire Fire Nation and when he retired, he never took on any students to carry on his legacy - if you could even call it that. Every other trainer was ecstatic because this meant that their students would earn the most bounties. Until there was me. I don’t know why he took me in… he just said that he found me as in infant and regretfully took me from an islands rocky shore maybe to sell me off somewhere. I suppose he realised he could make even more money from me if he trained me until I could pay off debt for him raising me. I did the one thing assassins could do, kill. All the money I ever earned from each bounty went straight to him. Luckily enough, I learned quickly, and I got to my final payment when I was 13, then he would have set me free.”

Horrified, Aang couldn’t believe what he was hearing. There was nothing like this in the Air Temples growing up. “Luckily enough?! How in any universe is that lucky!”

“Most assassins in the Fire Nation, and others, are stuck paying off their guardians or trainers well into their adulthood. Because of… certain tactics and advantages, I became quite popular if you could put it that way and most of the people, I had to take care of were…” Halting, you knew that if you verbally said some lives are worth more than others, Aang would probably go into cardiac arrest.

“Well, some had more people wanting them gone so the bounty was higher.”

“How does this have anything to do with you working for the fire lord! I don’t see why Zemin would let you go if you were doing so much for him.”

Your strength was fading. You hated yourself for how much you scretly enjoyed having people around that weren’t as idealistic as those in the Fire Nation. “He didn’t. I got an anonymous mission to take out a high general in the palace. So high, that it was going to be enough for me to finish my debt.” After not being met with screams you felt reassured to continue…. they seem to be taking this well…

You took a deep breath. Here goes nothing. “On my way out, I got caught in the middle of an Agni Kai. The fire lord wasn’t too pleased I killed one of his generals or interfered with punishing his son. Yet somehow in his psychopathic mind he saw it as an opportunity to pledge my allegiance to him.”

The silence amongst the group was short lived.

“YOU MEAN ZUKO?”

“YOU KILLED SOMEONE.”

“AND YOU ACCEPTED?”

You scrunched your face. Maybe this was a bad idea to tell them. But it was too late to go back. “Yes, it was Prince Zuko in the Agni Kai, that’s how he got his scar. Yes, Aang I did kill the general, but to be fair I haven’t killed anyone since then… And Katara if you were being tortured every day for 8 months, I’m sure you would wear down too.”

The waterbender was unsatisfied with your answer. “Unbelievable! Of course, you did! Everyone has a choice in this world, and you chose the fire lord. You’re nothing but a coward.”

“My life was on the line! You don’t know anything about me.”

“Oh please, y/n. I do. I know everything! Sure, you were raised to assassinate others, but you can’t expect me to believe you didn’t know what you were doing when you were standing before Ozai. I would have stayed in a life of suffering than go with him.” Shaking her head, she pierces you with a disgusted look, “You’re no better than Ozai. No better than Azula.”

As Appa continued to glide through the ever-ending expanse of the sky, it seemed nothing could break the suffocating tension that encompassed everyone upon his saddle.

Toph was the only one to speak up. “Didn’t you hear her Katara? She hasn’t killed anyone since then! She’s surviving. If you ask me… she’s braver than any of us, you never know what could have happened to her if she got caught not actually killing her targets!”

Irritated Katara only grumbled, turning away while leaving the two boys to think about how they felt about you. Despite giving them answers, they still had so many questions.

It was undeniably clear that Katara has made her mind up about you, and you were sure everyone else was the same despite the earth benders attempts at comforting you. Hence, as you sat there across from the four of them, you were the first to break eye contact, turning your head to the side as you searched for something to focus on out there in the sky. Bird, a cloud, anything. You didn’t have the heart, the courage, to argue against what she said.

Unknown to you, Aang shuffled closer to you scared that his angry friend might hear him going towards you. His words only just loud enough to hear above the wind he whispered to you… “Its okay y/n. I don’t really understand what you’ve done or what you’ve been through but when youre ready.. you can tell us.

That was the first time your heart ignited a comforting warmth.

As Appas soft paws skilfully landing on the hard earth, you felt your heart drop inside you. What do I do now? Mind racing through all the possibilities, Toph seemed to have decided what to do before you could even stand.

“Hey! Come with me.”

Jumping off Appas saddle you landed on your feet with such a skilled silence, Toph had to sense your heartbeat to even realise you were next to her. Setting off towards where she’d set up her sleeping area, it was best you stuck closely behind.

“Don’t think about what Katara said, she doesn’t get it.”

“How so?”

Stalling in her tracks, she turned her unseeing gaze towards you. “She doesn’t know what its like to be born into a life that you don’t want. And she definitely doesn’t know how hard it can be trying to escape it.”

Unsure with how to reply, humming in understanding was the best you could come up with.

“Just stick with me and you’ll be fine. I know you most certainly don’t need me, but I’ve got your back.”

The next day had gone by agonizingly slow. With Toph trying to teach Aang earth bending you were left to your own devices since Katara decided to tag along. Although you found yourself tailing Sokka as he went his own way looking for food unaware of your silent giggles seeing him get stuck in the ground.

“...big things eat smaller things. Nothing personal. But this time, it didn’t work out that way…I admit it, you’re cute…”

You decide to finally reveal yourself, tired of your lack of entertainment. “What are you doing down there Sokka?”

Letting out a girl like squeal, he’s horrified at getting caught in this position. “Nothing!”

“You look like you could use some help.”

“I don’t want help from you!” You dismiss it. Surely he has no other choice but to make himself acquainted with you.

“Yeah, right. It’s funny, you’re probably the third person that has ever said that to me. The second in about the span of 48 hours.” you cant help but divert your attention towards the cute animal annoying him. “Aweee look at this cutie!”

“Get away from it!”

“Why should I do that?”

“Because I don’t want you to hurt it!”

“Please, I actually quite like animals. They’re a lot better than humans anyway.”

“I- well… fine! Just go away?”

You scoff, “Why’s that?”

“I don’t like you!”

“Hmm… is that so.”

“Yes, of course it is!”

You’re done feeling sorry for yourself. “Are you sure you don’t like me, or do you feel that way because of your sister?”

“I- well… argh! Fine! I don’t know.”

“Well… why don’t you talk to me and work it out for yourself? If you still dislike me so much I’ll leave you be and get someone to come help.”

A silence fills the distance between the two of you.

He sighs, caving in, “So.. this Zemin guy. Did he REALLY not give you a choice?”

Looking up, you stare at the clear sky. “I learnt early on in my training that I didn’t have a choice or options in life other than what he wanted. Any exercise I rushed through, half assed, or tried to skip through when he wasn’t looking came with consequences.”

“What kind of consequences?”

“The kind that keeps all of my clothing and bindings on so I don’t constantly get pitiful looks or too many questions.”

He scoffs, “prove it”

Staring at all your layers you sigh, “don’t say I never warned you.”

Peeling off all your layers one by one until your down to just your tank top and pants, you decide to take off your face mask last. Your eyes meeting Sokka’s, you notice him swallow thickly. But its you to break the ice first. “In all fairness, most of them are now from Ozai. The older they look… well I’m sure you can work it out for yourself.”

“b-but-“Fuck why did I have to make him uncomfortable.

Unable to take it any longer, you pull him out from the hole in the ground. “Its fine.”

You turn to walk away after helping him, but he grabs your scarred wrist, the feeling of the textured skin making him internally wince. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made you expose yourself like that. Its horrible that you had to experience that… hell we look the same age!”

“Everyone is on different paths. Look, lets just forget about it..”

Sokka feels like he could bust into tears “No! you don’t understand. I’ve seen the effects of the fire nation… hell they took away my mum. I still remember it, sometimes I have weeks where I keep reliving it in my nightmares, only finding peace when im awake. Its like im being haunted. But- but you?! You have to face it whether you’re awake or asleep”.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you can’t handle the intensity of his words. Theres nothing you can do. Nothing you can say. You hug him. You don’t remember the last time you held someone. It feels weird, almost wrong. But as he squeezes you back, tightening the embrace, you understand one thing. You have an understanding with the water tribe boy, despite how dark it may feel.

Hours pass by as you sit with sokka talking about useless topics until the other three join you once more. Feeling weariness in their gaze, you realise you forgot to put your layers back on. Now everyone can see your face and scars.

Only Aang has the courage to speak with you.

“Hey. Uhhh, y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“I just… I’m sorry for not speaking much with you since yesterday. I didn’t mean to, it was just a lot to process personally! Growing up with the Air Nomads, I was taught that killing is wrong and that under no circumstance should that be the answer. If I’m completely honest with you, I still stand by those teachings and to have someone who has… killed… so close to me and the people I care the most about is… unsettling.”

There it was. You knew despite how much he was trying; you knew he wouldn’t be able to see past what you did. What you are.

“I understand. I don’t blame you, or anyone for reacting the way they are, and I know what it feels like to want to protect those who mean something to you.” You glance at Sokka, remembering how he understood.

“Just… please understand that I’ve realised what I did was wrong and while I can’t change everything that I have done, I’m trying to move away from that way of life. I don’t want to be a killer anymore. I’m trying my best to fix it.”

“I know…. Its just-“

“You don’t trust me.”

“What?! NO! I mean…. I don’t know. You clearly have good inside of you but it’s hard to look past.”

“I get it. I’ll head off then, the world needs you Aang and I won’t be the one to stand it your way.”

“No! stop! Please! I know I said it’s hard for me to do, but I clearly see you trying your best. I know you won’t hurt me. I just… I suppose I need to open my eyes more. See you for who you are now, what you’re doing now.”

But what if you can’t? What if I’m still that person, no matter how much I try to shove it away. This is what I have been made to become?

“Okay.”

Letting out a nervous quiet laugh, he glances back to everyone. “okay well… lets eat!”

Zuko stares at the sky in the heavy downpour. “You always through everything you could at me. Well, I can take it. And now I can give it back!”

Lightning cacks in the sky before his eyes.

“Come on!”

“Strike me! You never held back before!”

Met with only the sound of the world around him, he feels helpless. Lost. Alone.

Screaming out, Zuko falls to his knees as the rain and guilt encompasses all of his senses.

His voice scratchy from screaming, he can hardly croak out… “You never held back from her."

taglist: @mangoberry43 @eridanuswave @slythergirlimagines @whiskeywinter89 @simplyfandomish @khaleesi-of-assassins @calciumcow @ilovespideyyy @callums-keith @nnon-it-up @blackhood5sos @chewymoustachio @tiffy119 @reclusive-chicken-nugget @lozzybowe @scarletemeterio @simpinforsukka @sokkassuki @spearbatty @kaylove12

#zuko x reader #zuko fanfic #zuko #the gaang #zuko angst #atla zuko #prince zuko #avatar aang #aang #toph #sokka #suki #avatar the last airbender #atla #zuko x aang #aang x katara #atla aang

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rikamae · 7 months

Text

I understand now. I understand all of it.

All those times politicians claimed something was "too complicated" "not that simple" "we don't have the money" it's all lies to keep us complacent.

They did it about the situation is Israel. "It's too complicated" everyone said. It didn't look complicated when I did my own research, away from those shitty think pieces talking down to me. Israel was a state built off the blood of Palestinians, and they simply do not want you to think about it. Because there is oil in the middle east and Israel is our only "Ally"

Wow, so complicated! The complicated part being that our media is tricking us into thinking this is so complex so they can be evil in plain sight: yes, so complicated of a situation!!

And today I wake up to find that the House of Representatives (the lowest level of US government) has passed a bill offering 14 billion to Israel! It will go to the Senate to vote. Wow, billion with a B huh? I got a question for you.

Where the fuck did we get enough money to fund genocide? Where the hell was all this money when it comes to supporting the Americans you politicians claim to be representing? Where was this money for free college, universal Healthcare, covid precautions, the climate crisis??

"It's just too complicated! You'll make us do cuts on other programs! You'll make us raise taxes!! Think of the taxes!!!"

Then where did this money come from? Oh, the IRS, the fucking company that handles our taxes??? Yeah????? That was an option? Why wasn't it an option before but it is now? Were they over funded and we just didn't notice until now? Or are you taking advantage of the situation to cut funding to another service you hate?? The point being: if they really want something, they can find the fucking money. They haven't because they don't want to.

It's never been complicated. It's their job to move money around. It's their fucking job to raise our taxes and provide for us, but the only people they truly represent are the ones filling their pockets with lobby money. They could have done this long ago, given us what we've been demanding, but they coddled us and said it was too complicated and our baby brains couldn't handle it. And God forbid you be a woman!! That means you're double unable to understand!

Enough. Fucking enough. Every year congress votes to increase their wages and refuses to raise our minimum wage. Every year they take advantage of their medical insurance and benefits they get for "representing" us when nearly every adult I know is left to suffer with their conditions: untreated sicknesses, chronic conditions, the depression that looms over us because we live in the most wealthy country in the world but we can't make ends meet and our government is more concern with funding armies that feeding and housing us

Politics was never complicated. They just told us it was. To shut us up. To make us feel young and idealistic and stupid. And we fell for it. And now evil is moving through the wills of our leaders IN OUR FUCKING NAMES to support a genocide in the middle east. Their only crime was being born on that land. Their only crime is being Arab. That's not a fucking crime.

Our system isn't complicated. It's working as intended. Keep the people blind and claim that it's too hard, leave all the details to them. But we are smarter than they are. We are informed. The world is connected like never before and I refuse to let their propaganda ever reach me again.

Hold them accountable. Know their names. Write it in the history books. Let their legacy be known to the end of times.

Be loud about your anger. Go to protests. Write your reps to tell them your vote is on the line. And for God's sake vote in the damned elections!

THE IDEA THAT YOUR VOTE DOESN'T MATTER IS PROPOGANDA. THEY WANT YOU TO FEEL USELESS. THEY WANT YOU TO GIVE UP SO THEY STAY IN POWER.

They want you to think it's complicated. It never has been. Be loud. Vote. Use your right to protest. Use your right to free speech. Use your right to petition. Next Tuesday is election day. Make it fucking count.

#american politics #free palestine #Rika rants #Don't tell me to calm down it's freaking me out that you're not freaking out #social justice #What else can I put here?? That I'm tired? That I'm pissed? That I'm wanting to yell to Biden's face that he's a murderer???#My therapist told me to stop looking at the news for my mental health and I don't feel I get that luxury due to you know #Don't stop talking about Palestine

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mochroialainn · 1 month

Text

Despite everything

Title: Despite Everything Fandom: Hogwarts Legacy Characters: Sebastian Sallow x reader Plot: Despite everything he did, despite everything he said to you, the months of pain caused he caused you. Some part of you still saw the good, saw the kind and the caring and the protective. Most of all you still saw the hurt and the pain he suffered, so despite everything you gave him back the one thing he loved most in the world. His sister . Themes: Angst, hurt/comfort Warnings: Asshole Sebastian, mild hurt/comfort, love confessions, fem!reader. Word count: 6,769 Notes: This is based in 7th year, all characters are ages up to 18. I also have yet to finish the game, so please excuse any errors! This also got very out of hand very quickly and I apologise for the length

Golden light filtered through the windows of the Sallow home in Feldcroft illuminating everything inside in a warm honey glow that gave Anne a feeling of hope as she watched the person who had slowly became her best friend over the past year and a half, fiddle with her wand, twirling it between her fingers and twisting and turning it absentmindedly as her eyes scanned over the piece of parchment in her hands.

It was an unlikely friendship, but one that was true and ran deep. It was a friendship built on trust and love and seeing every part of the other. For too long all people saw in Anne was her illness, the dreadful curse that had taken over her life too long. They pittied her and feared her at the same time, they didn’t want the same thing to happen to them and even though it wasn’t contagious people tended to stay clear of her. But [name] wasn’t like that, she saw Anne wholly for who she was. She saw her as a person rather than her illness,

She saw the Anne that many thought was lost the day she was cursed, she saw the daring adventurous girl she once was. [Name] always revelled in reading and hearing the stories of Anne and Sebastian when they were children, their mischieviousness and the trouble they would get into, she proclaimed one day that Anne and Sebastian were probably the reason Solomon had grey hairs, causing the two girls to fall into a fit of giggles.

And Anne saw [name] as more than the Hero of Hogwarts, she saw past the facade of strength and courage to see the crumbling girl beneath who carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. The girl who was suddenly whisked into a world of magic and was the only one with the power to stop it from crumbling. She saw the vulnerability and the fear hidden deep below the mask. But she also saw the kindness and the protectiveness, saw it in the way she spoke of her friends. Of Ominis and Sebastian and how she would have burned the world to the ground if anything were to happen to them, and those two boys were the most important people in her life and as soon as she saw how [name] cared for them she was quickly added to the list.

Since their initial meeting, the girls had sent each other countless owls back and forth and [Name] would visit Anne any time she could, though her visits became less frequent towards the end of their 5th year. Anne had asked about in her letters, saying she missed [Name] and even tried to sweeten it by saying that even Solomon missed her because he loved the way Anne’s eyes would light up anytime [Name] was around and he was happy she had a friend like her. Something had changed,she just didn’t know what and though [Name] never divulged the information she had a feeling it was to do with her stubborn, hard-headed brother who couldn’t see a good thing if it him in the face with same force as a bludger.

It was during the summer of their sixth year that Anne finally pulled the information from Ominis who had come to see her and Sebastian. Sebastian and Solomon had gone off to do some shopping, the pair slowly mending bridges together, and Anne had asked Ominis about [Name]. She had noticed the way he fidgeted uncomfortably, pulling on his sleeves and chewing on hislips nervously. After much pestering from Anne’s side, Ominis had finally relented and told her what happened.

About her working with a goblin and Sebastians reaction, him calling her ignorant and icing her out as if she had never meant anything to him. To how he was treating her like she meant nothing to him, like she didn’t even exist. And Anne swore if she could she was going to beat her brother black and blue because she was simply the best thing to ever happen to him. Ominis had sensed her getting worked up, the tension and heat in the room rising, and he had let her know that Imelda Reyes already landed a punch on Sebastian that landed him in the hospital wing with a broken nose and Gareth Weasley had accidentally spilled a potion on him that made him smell like sour milk for 2 whole weeks. That had got a chuckle out of her and Ominis promised to tell [name] that she should come visit and that was enough for Anne.

So [Name] did just that, she and Ominis conspired with Anne and Solomon to have her go over when Sebastian wasn’t around so the girls could talk. It was during one of these visits that [Name] revealed she hadn’t stopped looking for something to help Anne, even if she couldn’t find a cure she wanted to find something that could illviate the pain and make it so Anne could return to Hogwarts. Anne was gobsmacked when she said it, not wanting her to loose herself in the dark magic the same way Sebastian had.

That was when [name] explained to Anne that she wasn’t going anywhere near dark magic ever again, her use of it had left her scarred and broken and she was still putting herself back together with the help of her friends, and she revealed her connection to ancient magic and how she could wield it. She told her of Isidora taking the pain away from her father and how Sebastian had damn near lost her mind when she refused to do it. She explained to Anne she simply didn’t know enough, she had seen what happened to Isidora and those she claimed to help by taking away their pain and she was not prepared to take Anne out of one torment to throw her straight into another. She had to study it more and she didn’t care how long it took but she would find a way to help Anne that didn’t involve dark magic or Isidora’s method.

[Name] always kept Anne informed of her research, telling her what she had learned and the progress she had made even if she was only half a step closer, she also told her stories of Hogwarts and the spells they were learning how the more she researched healing the more she wanted to become a healer. This continued for over a year, the two becoming best friends and sneaking around Sebastian but never mentioning him, both recognising the pain he had caused [Name], and to now.

It was two weeks before the end of summer and [name] returning to Hogwarts for the 7th and final year. She had spent most of her summer researching and working and perfection and finally, finally she found the last bit she needed and as soon as she had confirmation from Anne that Sebastian was out of their home and would be gone for a few hours she used floo powder to travel to the Sallow home where had been pacing and re-reading for the last hour as Anne watched on amusedly, hope blooming in her chest.

Finally [Name] folded the parchment that had been in her hand up and returned it to her pocket and faced Anne with a smile. “Are you ready?”

Anne nodded and whispered a quiet “yes” just loud enough to [Name] to hear, but it was all she needed to hear. If Anne was ready, so was she. She stood beside Anne’s bed, the point of her wand nearly touching her hair line, she spoke a soft encatation the tip of her wand glowing blue, the familiar surge of ancient magic flowing through her and making her feel feather light.

Moving the wand slowly down Anne’s forehead a trail of light followed from the first point, she stopped at point below between Anne’s eyebrows she repeated the incantation again and another pool of light followed as she repeated the steps again moving her wand down Anne's body, stopping at her throat, the center of her chest just slightly right of her heart, at the base of her strernum, at her belly button, and finally at her feet, the trail of light following the path.

Once she finished the last incantation, he moved her wand once again, placing it directly above Anne’s heart a repeated another incantation this one different can causing the magic to spread out around Anne until every inch of her body was covered in the brilliant blue of ancient magic. The tip of [Name]’s wand dug into the soft flesh of Anne’s chest, not hard enough to cause pain but enough for it to be felt and for her to control the magic working its way through Anne’s body with a lot more precision and she closed her eyes.

It was an intense feeling, being able to move and see the magic rolling through someone's body. Being able to locate the curse that had buried itself deep inside Anne. She found it quite quickly, seeing it as dark, throned vines that had twisted itself around Anne’s nervous system and rooted right in her heart. Slowly, [Name] started untangling the vines using her magic to weaken their grip on Anne’s body, pulling them away and covering them in the light of ancient magic causing them to wither and wilt away, she started with the vines twisted around ther nerves slowly killing them all before moving on to the organs and then the muscles and finally to the root of the dark magic lodged inside her heart. This one was a little trickier and required a lot more care and patience, slowly she pulled at the roots, pulling them out one by one and killing them until only one remained and then until none remained.

Slowly, she opened her eyes and and removed her wand from Anne’s chest, the light at the end extinguishing as the ancient magic around Anne faded. The golden light that had been shining in the room previously had gone, now the room was illuminated in a silver hue the full moon outside the window shining on the two girls and providing the only light in the room.

“How do you feel?” [Name]’s voice was soft, exhaustion making its home in her body as her muscles started to feel heavy and her brain started to fog. She knew the magic would take it out of her, knew it would leave her exhausted but she wouldn’t let Anne see that, she would only worry [Name] had done too much at once and fuss over her.

“I feel… good.” Anne smiled, the pain she usually felt gone, the tension in her muscles easing. Breathing was easier and her chest felt light for the first time in years, she took a deep breath and reveled in the fact that it didn’t hurt. A smile quickly came to her lips as she sat herself up, back leaning against the headboard, tears pricked at her eyes as the joy took over and she couldn’t help but let a few slips past and a joyous laugh feel from her lips. [Name] started tearing up as well, reaching out to take Anne’s hand as she mumbled out ‘thank yous’ between the tears.

“What are you doing here?” An angry voice cuts through the sobs of Anne and causes both girls to whip their head to the door to see Sebastian standing here his face red and nostrils flared as he glared directly at [Name]. The girls eyes widened as she stood in shock, she knew there was always a risk he would come home but she thought she had enough time to leave before he did but the spell must have took much longer than she thought. She wanted to apperate out there and then, to disappear and not face the angry face of the boy she still cared so deeply for despite everything. Beside him Ominis stood, his hand outstretched across Sebastians chest to stop him from charging forward.

“Sebastian…” Ominis’ voice was a stern. It was a warning to his friend not to do anything stupid or in anger. Sebastian simply growled in response placing his hand on Ominis’ and pushing his friends hand away as he stalked towards [Name].He was taller than her now, she remember being able to look him in his eyes in 5th year but he had shot up in 6th year and now he towered over her, eyes cold and harsh as he glared.

“What.are.you.doing.here?” His voice was harsher than his glare, the sound of it actually struck fear into [Name]’s heart as she strugged to come up with a response. The exhaustion had fully sank in now, her muscles were giving in on her and she could feel her legs shaking, barely holding her weight up and her head felt like it had been submerged underwater and everything seemed so far away and so close all at once. Her chest constricted, breathing hard to do as every breath felt like a sharp pain. Her body was starting to shut down, she needed to rest and if she didn’t leave soon she was going to collapse.

Anne’s hand left hers and instead grabbed Sebastians, drawing his gaze away from [Name] just in time as she tumbled slightly backwards. Anne saw it happened from her periphery, the way [Name] was struggling to standing and seemed to sway from side to side, but she knew she needed to calm Sebastian down before she could help her friend.Sebastian’s glare softened slightly when he turned to his sister and the hand she wasn’t holding closed over the top of hers in comfort. “Sebastian, she was helping me. She found a cure.”

Sebastians eyes widened at her words, the harshness melting away and making room for shock instead as his eyes darted between Anne and [Name]. “What?” His words caught in his throat,a lump forming and stopping any more words from coming out as he eyed his sister up and down and reached out to cup her cheek and rub it gently with his thumb. Anne nodded her head as a confirmation that it was true, “I’m cured Sebastian.”

That was the last thing [Name] heard before she hit the floor, the exhaustion finally taking over her body and rendering her unconscious. Ominis jumped at the sound, eyes immediately landing on the spot where [Name] had fallen, his hand was in his hand leading him to hear before Sebastian could even mutter a word or get close to her. His hands were gentle as he felt for her arm, fingers moving slowly down until he reached her wrist he pressed into it gently a relieved sigh leaving his lips as he felt the her pulse. “Sebastian, go get Solomon.”

Sebastian nodded and released Anne’s hand and face, rushing down to get his uncle. Anne slowly moved from her place on the bed, so used to being careful with her body to join Ominis on the floor and placing [Name]’s head in her lap as she ran a hand through her hair gently and placed her forehead against hers as a silent thank you for what she had done through she knew [Name] couldn’t feel it. Sebastian and Solomon quickly returned, Solomon’s shock of seeing Anne up and not in pain quickly being replaced with mild panic at the sight of the unconscious witch in her lab.

“We need to get her to a healer, now”.

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When [Name] awoke she was in the hospital wing of Hogwarts, Matron Blainey standing over her with wand in hand as she did some basic checks on her body. “Ah, look who’s awake”

“Matron Blainey? How did I get here?” Confusion clouded [Name]’s mind, the last thing she remembered was Sebastian towering over her, his icy glare piercing through her entire body. It hurt to try and remember anything else, she tried to sit up but Matron Blainey placed a hand on her shoulder and shook her head gently.

“You’re exhausted dear, you’ve been unconscious for two days. Solomon Sallow brought you in alongside a very healthy looking Anne Sallow who explained you had used ancient magic to cure her.” [Name] lay back down, head hiting the pillow with a soft ‘thump’ as she out an exacerbated sigh, she hated being confined to a bed and not being able to move. More than that she wanted to see Anne and make sure she was still okay. Matron Blainey placed a hand atop her forehead as she continued speaking, “the magic you used exhausted you and caused you to collapse in the middle of Anne’s bedroom. Solomon tried to find a healer in Feldcroft but they were of gathering supplies and so he apperated you here, he was just lucky I was doing some final checks before the new school year started”

[Name] nodded her head gently, the movement causing immense pain in her head as her body finally registered the aches flowing through it, including the migraine that was now blaring right behind her head. “And Anne?” Matron Blainey took out a wiggenweld potion and gently had [Name] drink it, “For the pain”

She capped the empty potion bottle before turning back to the station beside the bed and lifting a hot towel and laying it gently against [Name]’s head. “She’s good, I checked her over myself and she seems to be in tip-top shape thanks to you. In fact I believe they are currently speaking to Professor Black about her returning to Hogwarts after the summer.” A smile broke out onto [Name]’s lips which Matron Blainey returned, “Now rest. Your parents have been informed of what has happened but I want to keep you here for observation for a bit longer”

Relief filled [Name]’s body, it had worked and Anne was okay with that, she closed her eyes and feel into a deep slumber.

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[Name] spent 3 more days in the hospital wing, most of it she spent sleeping and recovering under the careful eye of Matron Blainey who informed she had quite a few visitors, Anne for one was coming almost daily alongside Ominis and they spoke to her as she slept. Talking about how excited Anne was to get back to Hogwarts and how she would have extra assignments to do to catch up, she might have to do an extra year to complete bother her O.W.L.S and her N.E.W.T.S but she didn’t mind as long as she was back. Matron Blainey told her Ominis usually just watched Anne talk but joined in occasionally mostly just to vent about his summer had been terrible with his family and catching up with Anne. She had also said Solomon had visited a few times and when asked about the flower at her bedside, the matron had informed her that Sebastian had left them it was beautiful bouquet of blue hyacinths and daffodils.

[Name] was shocked Sebastian had came, he hadn’t spoke to her in over a year and a half and openly spoke bad about her to friends, berating her and undermining her skills and efforts and yet here he was visiting her and leaving flowers. When Matron Blainey commented on the blue hyacinths and daffodils being an unusual combination, [Name] had simply replied, “In the language of flowers, blue hyacinths are a symbol of remorse and sincerity and daffodils mean forgiveness and hope”

The flower choice was deliberated, Sebastian knew [Name] had a small fascination with the language of flowers and had spent time in her 6th year learning it with Professor Garlick, she assumed he had gone to either her or Ominis for advice on the flowers to use. But she appreciated the sentiment all the same. Matron Blainey had simply nodded her head and commented that he must be trying to apologise for something incredibly bad if he was going to such length. Though she didn’t verbalise it, [Name] definitely thought ‘you can say that again’.

After the 3rd day in the Hostpial Wing, [Name] was allowed to return home and get ready for the upcoming school year, it was only a week and a half away after all. Her parents fussed over her a little, making sure she was okay before scolding her softly for beingso reckless with such a powerful spell and then they told her how proud they were of her for what she did.

The week and a half leading up to school was uneventful, she got owls from Imelda, Poppy, Garteth and Anne about the upcoming year and she answered them all as quickly as she could. She was excited to start the new year, learning new spells and polishing up all her other spells and skills but yet one thing niggled in the back of her mind, a constant thought that never seemed to disappear no matter how hard she tried to push it away. That thought was simply Sebastian Sallow.

She didn’t know what to think, didn’t know what to do about the curly haired boy. She had loved him since 5th year, even after he called her ignorant and began ignoring her. Began speaking bad of her to anyone who would listen, he had broke her with that. She thought he had cared about it, at one point thought he loved her like she loved him but that didn’t seem to be the case. And then he goes and sends her a bouquet of forgiveness and turned her mind upside down once again with thoughts of him. Whatever thoughts she had of him and wanting to forgive him though were pushed to the side, she had spoke to Imelda and Poppy in her letters about what happened and they both had the same sentiment that flowers were not enough and an apology and they would want more, well Imelda would want him to beg for forgiveness while Poppy would want more of a show of remorse and though she might not agree with how they want the forgiveness to be asked for, she agreed he need to earn her forgiveness and the flowers were simply not enough for him breaking her heart. So as she boarded the Hogwarts express, she pushed all thoughts of him to the side and joined her friends in a carriage to have a proper catch up of what they did over the summer.

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It was two weeks into the new term and Sebastian still hadn’t made a move to properly apologise to [Name], instead he just stared longingly at her across the tables in the Great Hall and in classes watching as she laughed and smiled with her other friends, with Gareth Weasley. The sight of the red-head making her laugh filled him with jealousy, jealousy that was undeserved mind you and he knew it. He knew he had no right to be jealous,[Name] wast his and she never was no matter how much his heart called out to her . He was the one that pushed her away, he was the one who couldn’t see past his anger and his stubbornness to see she was only trying to help and by the time that word got to him that it was Rockwood who had cursed Anne and not goblins it was too late, the damage was already done. He didn’t think there was anything he could say now that could make her forgive him, even if Matron Blainey had told him she adored the flowers and took them home with her, somewhere deep in his mind told him she would never forgive him and that part of him always won over the side that told him to at least try.

A ‘smack’ to the back of his head brought him out of reprieve and he turns to his sister in shock, eyes wide and a look of ‘what the fuck was that for’ flitted accross his face. Anne simply huffed and crossed her arms over her chest and she stared at her brother incredously, “You can’t be serious?”

The look of shock turned to a questioning one as he looked at his sister, “What?” Beside Anne, sat Ominis who rolled his eyes at his friends denseness, the action was almost in synch with Anne’s as she face palmed and rolled her own eyes. “You are such a dumb ass Sebastian Sallow”

“What for?” Sebastian knew he did a lot of stupid things, a lot, but he genuinely did not know what his sister was talking about until she motioned towards [Name] and raised an eyebrow, “You still haven’t talked to her?”

Anne knew he hadn’t, [Name] had told her as much the night before as she, [Name], and Imelda sat in around the fire in their dorm rooms gossipping. Imelda made a comment about how he didn’t deserve forgiveness anyway which caused the other two girls to roll their eyes, Anne knew where Imelda was coming from. She knew [Name] didn’t solely rely on her for female friendship and Sebsatian was her brother so she didn’t want to bring her problems about him to Anne and Imedla had stayed up many nights holding a crying [Name] in her arms as she got through the heartbreak that was loosing Sebastian Sallow, she was the one who helped her pick up the pieces of her broken heart and slowly glue it back together.

But Anne knew her brother, knew he wanted to apologise. Wanted to fix things. He was just stupid and stubborn and an absolute fool when it came to manners of the heart. Sebastian cast his eyes down to his hands, fingers fiddling together as he avoided Anne’s intense gaze and shook his head. It was strange to see him so demure, so shy, he was usually so confident about everything. Thats when Anne knew he didn’t know what to do.

She let out a sigh and dropped her hand to his, prompting him to look up at her through his eye lashes, “Just tell her how you feel Sebastian before you loose your chance.” As she said that, his eyes looked up at your again just in time to see Gareth tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and subtly glance down at your lips as if he wanted to kiss you. A pit formed in Sebastians stomach, the jealousy now turning into something tangible and real and dangerous, he couldn’t loose you. Not to Weasley, not to anybody. He stood from his spot at the table quickly, and abruptly stormed out of the room the dramatics of his actions drawing attention from the other slytherins near him.

“What’s gotten into him?” Imelda asked as she eyed his back, Ominis’ simple response was “he finally grew a pair” causing a chuckle to leave the mouths of the surrounding slytherins, including Anne.

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A haggard sigh slips through [Name]’s slips as she walked into her dorm room, the light of the lanterns illuminating the space in such a way it feels homely and welcoming, it's a comfort of a home away from home to come back to at thend of a long school day, Imelda sits on her bed, booked surrounding her as she studies and scribbles away on her parchment. It seemed the only time the quidditch captain and prefect had to study as in the early morning dawn before the sun even kissed the sky before quidditch practive and at dusk as the moons silvery moon starts to illuminate the black lake in an etheral light before she has to attend her prefect duties. She glances up at [Name] briefly offering a small smile and pointing to the other girls bed with her head, “There’s something on your bed”

Confused, [Name] turns towards her bed and walks towards it cautiously afraid one of the other slytherins had got the wrong idea and thought she was an easy target for a prank. Instead of an ill-fated prank on her bed there is a bouquet of flowers, a plain velvet box and a note. Her fingers trail over the bouqert gently, this one is fuller than the one at the hospital wing full of wisteria (her favourite flower), carnations, and tulips. She smiles gently and lifts the bouquet, taking a smell of the flowers and letting out a content smile. The flowers were symbolic once again, wisteria is associated with long life and love, carnations meant deep affectionate love, and the red tuplips were usually conveyed that a person was your one true love.

Conjuring a vase, she places the flowers inside them as her heart hammers inside her chest, feelings she thought long forgotten bubbling to the surface as she turns back to her bed and lifts the velvet box and opens it. She gasps gently as she pulls out a gold chain with a beautiful moissante heart, she turns it over in her hands admiring the beauty and craftsmanship of the piece and an inscription catches her eye, ‘tuum in aeternum’, her heart beat quickens once again as her latin lessons finally come in handy as she quickly translates the phrase in her mind to ‘yours forever’.

Tears start forming in her eyes as she places the necklace back in its box and slips it into her pocket before reaching for the note, its simple and reads ‘im sorry. Please meet me in the undercroft tonight at 12 - S.S’. She lets out a shuttering breath and blinks the tears back, she didn’t know what to expect if she went. Didn’t know how she would react to him. To speaking to him again, with the way her heart was beating and how touch she was at the gifts he gave her she didn’t know if she could stop herself from immediately throwing herself into his arms.

Imelda’s voice pulls her out of her rolling thoughts, “Who’s it from?”

Clearing her throat, she turns to Imelda and looks back down at the card her voice coming out as barely a whisper, “Sebastian…” Imelda doesn’t ask for more information, she knows she doesn’t have to instead she just raises and eyebrow and waits for her friend to continue, “He wants to meet tonight at 12.”

At this Imelda rolls her eyes and placed her quill down, she was going to chastise her friend for breaking curfew and going back to Sebastian when he didn’t deserve it but the look on [Name]’s face as she stared at the small piece of paper has her biting her tongue. She see’s the hope in her eyes that this might be their chance at reconciliation, that they could make up and she sees the love there as well. The love her friend had pushed so far down inside of her Imelda worried she had stopped herself from feeling the motion ever again and she lets out a sigh. “Let me know what corridor you need clear and I’ll keep the other prefects away”

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[Name] would have to thank Imelda a million times over for this, she knew her friend didn’t hold Sebastian in high regard after everything that had happened in 5th year and she still held the memory of Imelda turning round and socking him right in the nose when she heard him speak badly of [Name] for the first time. It shows that Imelda cared, despite how prickly she could be. As Imelda promised, the corridor leading to the UnderCroft was clear, giving her a clear path without the risk of any prefect seeing through her disillusionment charm. Standing before the entryway to the UnderCroft [Name] takes a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves bundling up inside of her and turning her stomach into knots.

After removing her disillusionment charm, she takes a few before she feels fully confident in going down and as she descends her hands roughly card through her hair and they start picking at the skin around her nails in nervousness. They let out another shuddering breath as the doors open to the UnderCroft, their heart feels like it's about to beat out of their chest as they take the first step out and the knots in their stomach seems to deepen to the point that they feel nauseous and that feeling only intensifies when she see’s Sebastian leaning against on the pillars with his arms crossed over his chest and his head facing the ceiling, eyes closed in contemplation.

He looked so handsome, he had always been handsome but something about him was different. She realised she hand’t really looked at him since that day in 5th year, after all she had been avoiding him, but his jawline had gotten sharper and there was an air of maturity around him that she hadn’t seen before. She knew he was taller, he had towered over her in the Sallow home in Feldrcoft after all, but he was broader too. He had well and truly grown into himself and he was so devestaingly handsome it almost killed her.

His eyes opened and his head snapped towards her, his gaze was piercing but not the way it was in his home. Then it was full of anger and it had scared it. This time, it was different. It was as if he was looking right through her, like he was staring straight into her very being and could see how nervous she was. His eyes also held something else, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on but it was gentle and kind and as his gaze went over her entire body she felt like she was being draped in warmth and comfort, the same kind of feeling she got on a stormy day and she wrapped herself up in blankets with hot chocolate and a good book.

She takes a step closer to him and he does the same, they stay silent as their eyes take each other in fully for the first time in a year and a half. Sebastian wasn’t the only one who changed, she had too. She had changed her hair style, courtesy of Poppy’s advise, and it shaped her face beautiful and accentuated her features, the shape of her eyes, the slope of nose, the plumpness of her lips and he wanted to reach out and kiss her. And though she didn’t grow quite as tall as he did, she had grown some and with that growth came other changes that he would be ashamed to admit he noticed, the plumpness of her hips and thighs, it made her hip dips more noticeable and made her look even more beautiful.

He would never admit it to anyone, he barely admitted it to himself but he had spent many nights dreaming of how her body would feel in his hands, her silk skin against his and her bare thighs pressing against his, her bare chest pressing against his. He had spent many sleepless nights fantasising about having her because he believed it would never really happen.

They take a few more steps towards each other until their standing toe to toe, they stand in silence for a bit the only sound being their breathing and they don’t move, they simply bask in each others presence. Sebastian is the first to move, he takes one of her hands in her own and presses a gentle kiss to knuckles before muttering “You’re absolutely beautiful.”

Blush quickly seeps over [Name]’s face, dusting her cheeks rosy pink, “And I am an absolute fool.” His other hand comes up to cup at her cheek and he rubs gentle circles into the apple of hit as he continues, “I couldn’t bear the thought of loosing you to goblins. Of falling into their schemes and traps I thought you were abandoning me for them, I thought you had given up on me.”

A sad smile form on [Name]’s face as she reached her own hand up to cup the one Sebastian has on her cheek, “I never would have abandoned you Sebastian”

“I know. But I’m stubborn and hardheaded and a complete and utter asshole.I felt betrayed and I was hurt and angry and I thought by hurting you I would hurt less. I thought if I could convince you to hate me it would be easier for me to hate you for betraying me. But it wasn’t.”

He lets out a shuttering breath, his words soft as he speaks them. Almost as if someone else will here them and his words are only means for you, “It was the hardest damn thing I ever had to do. Acting like I hate you. Like I hated the ground your walked one, when in actuality I wanted to worship it. I wanted to worship you.”

[Name] turns her head slightly and kisses the palm of the hand holding her cheek, urgin him to continue, “You are simply amazing, a powerful witch in your own right who could kick my ass in a duel anytime. But you are also sweet, and kind and compassionate, you are the most courageous peson I know and you protect and care for those you love. You are better than I am in every way and I am so undeserving of you and your love. But I love you, I love you so much that it hurts. I have loved you since your first day in Defense Against the Dark Arts when you kicked my ass in your first every duel, that was the day I gladly ripped my heart and placed it in your hands for safekeeping and I thank Merlin every second of every minute of every hour or day that you decided not to crush it. My heart is and always be your eternally”

“Tuum in aeternum” [Name]’s whisper is soft and finally she recognises the look in his eyes, the one that felt like warmth and comfor and home, it was love. Sebastian always kept a mask on, acting cool and collected and calm, his true emotions rarely shining through his carefully built facade to keep people from getting too close, but for her, for her, he dropped the mask and his walls he had built to keep his emotions to himself were crumbling before her very eyes.

His eyes brightened at the recognition of the phrase and he can’t stop his excitement seeping through, “You got the necklace?”

[Name] nodded her head and pulled the velvet box from her pocket and opened it, the moissonite twinkling below the torches in the UnderCroft. “I did. Will you help me put it on?” He quickly nods and she hands him the box as she turns and pulls her hair out of the way, his hands are gentle as he places the necklac against her chests and clasps it at the back of her neck. She turns back to him and cups his face gently in her hands.

“Despite everything, despite the pain you put me through this past year and a half, I still and always will love you Sebastian Sallow. My heart has been yours since you took the fall for me with Scribner. I have seen the dark sides of you but I have also seen the light.I have seen the kind and caring person you are, how much you love and care for Anne and Ominis and how you would burn the world down to protect them. You are not wholly bad Sebastian, you are good too and you are deserving of love and more. I am still hurting from what you did to me, but I forgive you”

Shock covers his features and Sebastian is quick to wrap [Name] in a tight embrace,pulling her close against his chest and leaning his head into her shoulder, “I will spend every minute of every day making it up to you, I promise you that.”

Sebastian pulls away from the hug and quickly ducks down to place a chaste kiss on [Name]’s lips, testing the waters for how far he can go. He goes to pull back but she is wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him back for more, their lips crash together in a passionate kiss and as they pull apart again they both whisper the same words “Tuum in aeternum”, their solemn vow to one another to love each other, eternally.

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