#prompt: rococo bedroom

[aiartshow]

#ai art #ai artwork #ai generated #craiyon #prompt: rococo bedroom

[lorenfinch]

hey! this is chance & here’s the prompt for week 6. what are your oc's bedrooms like? messy? neat? carefully designed? or a collection of their favorite things? you can verbally describe or use photos, whatever you think is best.

Hi Chance; thank you for sending this!

Ren and Styx don't currently have their own bedrooms so they will be left out of this one.

Erevan's bedroom is...sparse. Without giving away too many spoilers, he lives in a tower and his room is very minimal. Stone walls with a circular window, a small chest with some clothes, a bed that's moreso a cot than anything, and a shelf with three books and a couple of star charts.

Vince is the exact opposite. Maximalist royalcore with rococo style decorations, a plush king-sized canopy bed in royal blue, a mahogany wardrobe filled to the brim with luxurious outfits, a chaise lounge with velvet cushions and a frame plated in gold, etc. Even his coffin is mahogany and plated in gold. Vampires in this setting don't use coffins, especially since they have no gravesites, but the superstition is there and thus, hearing Vince didn't have one, some rich suitor of his took it upon themselves to have a fine quality one built for him. Vince turned down the suitor, like he tends to do, but kept the coffin and uses it to store most of his instruments. He collects framed oil paintings of his homeland, Levanois, particularly the southern coast, where he used to live, and proudly displays his collection on the walls. His marble vanity lacks a mirror for obvious reasons, but there's room for more than one person so sit around it so they could help each other out with hair and makeup, and I'm thinking him and his friends use the long-abandoned servants' passages to get to each other's rooms in secret.

Most of the Night Terrors' bedrooms are fairly small due to the nine of them all living in the same lighthouse, and many of them share rooms. Amaryllis and Dahlia share a room; Amaryllis' side contains a shelf full of books and alchemical ingredients while Dahlia's side is closer to the window so she can observe the whales and dolphins that sometimes come by the sea. Being girlfriends, Belladonna and Tansy share a room, and I think they decorate it like a little cottage. Vlastimir and Eirik share a room, as do Aramour and Norwyn (and those two have opposite personalities so that's fun. Aramour sometimes leaves stuff lying around, while Norwyn is much neater). Mirko has his own room since he's the baby of the group, and it's completely lined with finished model kits, mostly of ships.

#digital-chance #asks

[josiecarioca]

Dark Drabbles (“things I´d never write” prompts)   #1- "Truth or Dare"

Prompt sent by @la-topolina (it contains shades of the prompt sent by @snapecentric but I'm planning to revisit that one)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31589402/chapters/78162176

Trigger warnings: depression, drug use, no consent, rape/sexual assault

November, 1978

Malfoy Manor

Severus knew better, or should know better, than to mix hallucinogens and alcohool. For how long had he been supplying Lucius' parties? Three months, at least, maybe more...He knew what went into those “pleasure potions” and “delight draughts”, he knew what they did to the mind and body, and he knew what to avoid.

Still, he didn't particularly care.

Severus just wanted to be out of it.

He needed to be numb for a few hours.

Just a few hours, a few minutes even would be enough.

Just not feel anything for a little while. He was tired. So tired. He couldn't sleep at night, and his days were little more than a foggy collection of minutes that passed him by before he could even notice until it was night again. He often forgot to eat, to drink, some days he couldn't find the strenght to get out of bed, laying there for hours, staring at the ceilling, watching the light shift as the hours went by. He was wound up so tight at every waking moment he sometimes felt like he would break in many little pieces at the slightest touch or provocation. Like his skin barely held him together in one piece.

All he needed was a few moments, a little while away from the daily, relentless repetition.

Lucius had welcomed him with open arms, prasing him for finally coming around. It required a celebration, he insisted. A small get together, drinks, games, drugs...the works.

Severus didn´t know a lot of the faces around him. They were just people Lucius thought he should meet. People who would take him places. All he had to do was give them what they wanted. Wether what they wanted came in a bottle or was passed from his lips into their ears, all he had to was give them what they wanted and they´d take him where he wanted to be. Where he deserved to be, according to Lucius.

“Truth or dare!” someone yelled at some point, when the party had been underway for long enough that those in attendance had already shed the pretense of propriety.

Severus should know better. But those were the people who would take him places. Places far away from where he was...away from the daily repetition, from the sleepless nights and the pointless days. Maybe, just maybe, he could do something with himself. Be something. Hadn´t he longed for that? Hadn´t he hoped to be something more than just...whatever he was.

Severus didn´t know who they were, but he knew they wanted him there, they seemed happy to have him. There was something in it for him, if only he...played along...

Truth or dare...

Don't chose truth...whatever you do. Just tell them what they want to hear...never the truth...

You know what´s in those potions...

It seemed to last forever. The music, deafening and distorted, the crystal glasses being passed around, filled with sparkly, jewel colored drinks pouring into laughing mouths, fingers touching and tingling like a buzz of electricity humming under the skin. Severus all but forgot himself in the frenzied caleidoscope of colors whirring before his eyes. The faint notion of lips on his, light as butterflies, lights flickering,

Then oblivion.

The colors had turned into black, a bottomless pitch black, devoid of sound or dimension. Severus was dimly aware of being moved, of hands touching him. His eyes opened to a mess of faded, blurry colors, which he vaguely recognised as one of the frescos that adorned the ceillings in the bedrooms of Malfoy manor. The pastel blues and pinks of peaceful rococo skies framed with gold looked like they were moving. How he had ended up there, he had no idea.

Severus blinked, trying to focus. The tips of his fingers and toes were numb, so he tried to move them, get the blood flowing. But he couldn´t.

His limbs were locked in place. He tried to move his head, look away from the ceilling, turn his eyes to his surroundings and find out where he was. No...he couln't. He could feel the softness of the bed under him, and the chill of the air on his exposed skin, but he couldn´t move.

The sickening scent of something sweet hit his nose. Some potent, overpowering fragrance, the kind of perfume one would wear to show it off, regardless of taste. Only something expensive can smell this cheap. Rich woods with an underlying hint of both floral and citrus, neither feminine nor masculine.

He felt the nausea building up at the pit of his stomach, and the acid reflux rising to his throath, burning along the way, bitter on his tongue. He tried to open his mouth, he tried to turn, suddenly afraid that if he vomited he might choke, drown in his own puke under those cotton candy clouds.

Long fingers pressed hard against his lips, followed by a hissing, mocking laughter ringing in his ears. All he could see were those blue and pink clouds, but he knew someone was there with him, he could feel the weight lay on him, and the long, fingers all over. He tried to open his mouth. To vomit, to scream, to say “no”, anything...but he couldn´t. All he could do was grunt and moan hopelessly as those fingers unbuttoned his pants. The nauseating scent of that perfume filled the air around him...the sloppy, wet sucking sound hit his ears before his body could register the feeling of that mouth on him...the feeling of laughing and the swallowing around him.

The bile burned in his throat, but he couldn´t open his mouth. He tried to keep it down, untill it was over.

#trigger warning #please check trigger warnings before reading #Snapedom #severus snape #Dark Drabbles

[annemarieyeretzian]

Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun

Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun, a French Rococo portraitist, apparently painted on every surface available to her (including her bedroom walls and schoolbooks) as a child, which prompted her father to say to her "If anybody was born to be a painter, my child, it's you."

By the age of 15, Élisabeth was painting portraits professionally and – having developed a modest clientele – was earning enough money to support her widowed mother and her brother.

By the age of 19, Élisabeth's portraits had garnered so much attention that her art materials were seized because she had been accepting paying clients without contributing to the guild (a guild that would not have initially considered her for membership because she was a woman).

Peace Bringing Back Prosperity was Le Brun's successful submission to the Académie Royale de Peinture et de Sculpture. She was one of only fifteen women to be granted full membership (a membership dissolved after the French Revolution, because female academicians were abolished).

By the age of 20, Élisabeth was established at court as the portrait painter to Marie Antoinette. One of her first paintings of the young queen (pictured above) caused quite the scandal, both because of the informality of the attire and the queen's decision to be portrayed that way.

Le Brun's Marie Antoinette and Her Children was an attempt to quell the scandal. She painted the young queen attired in royal red silks, adorned with feathers and lace, backgrounded by obvious opulence and surrounded by her children, reinforcing her role as both queen and mother.

In 1787 Élisabeth caused another public scandal when her Self-Portrait With Her Daughter Julie was exhibited at the Salon and showed Élisabeth smiling with an open mouth. Her decision deliberately ignored rules about facial representation, but Élisabeth liked breaking convention.

Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun had a unique understanding of the style of modern individuals and her entering public art spaces at a time when women were considered important only as a nurturer made her radical. Over her lifetime, Le Brun completed some 660 portraits and 200 landscapes.

#Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun #Élisabeth #Vigée Le Brun #Le Brun #French Rococo #French #Rococo #Rococo painter #Rococo artist #portrait painter #painter #artist

[alolowrites]

Sneezing Through Time

Summary: When you’re sick, you end up sneezing to random points in time.

Author’s Note: This story was written for the @bnhabookclub​‘s weekly prompt posted on their Discord server. The prompt was “I’m fine” and the AU/Scenario was Time Travel. Overall, I had a lot of fun writing this piece; it got my juices flowing. I might participate in more weekly prompt events in the future 😊. 

BTW: if something isn’t historically accurate, I’m sorry 😭😭😭. I was going for humor lmao. Guess that B.A. degree in History I received was for nothing. 

If you’re a writer (or aspiring writer) and a BNHA fan, please consider applying to join this amazing community. Everyone is so kind and welcoming! You will not regret it.

Also, this is not the sequel to The Point of No Return. That story will hopefully be ready next month so stay tune! 

Enjoy!  

Toshinori sips on his freshly brewed coffee.

Harvested from the beautiful lands of Chiapas, Mexico, he relishes the thick, rich, smooth taste of dark chocolate. A faint pinch of chili spice follows afterward and gives him the sort kick he needs to start the day. The morning newspaper rustles in his grasp as he reads about the latest world events. Everything is going as it should except…

You’re not at the table yet.

Toshinori glimpses at his watch and frowns. Something isn’t right; he knows you usually take twenty minutes to get ready before rushing to inhale your coffee. Sadly that cup is getting colder by the second while the empty seat sitting across the table mocks him. He raises the newspaper higher to block out the chair only to peek over it when he loses his concentration.  

The chair screeches on the hardwood floor. Toshinori folds the paper under his arm and goes to your bedroom to investigate. There’s a trail of white, crumpled tissues coming out from the bathroom. Following the knockoff yellow-brick road, he stops at the doorway and hears a loud blow horn by the window.

“Honey?” Toshinori tiptoes over the random piles of Kleenex as if they are grenades. Sunken eyes deeper than the Pacific Ocean catch his gaze. He feels your forehead with a frown. “You look sickly pale.”

You dismiss his concerns. “I’m fine.”

“That’s a lie, and we both know it.”

“Toshi, I’m fine!” A slight cough betrays you despite trying to mask it in your fist. Toshinori’s stern face makes you cringe like a small child who got caught stealing candy from the jar. “That cough means nothing.”

“I’m calling you out of work today.” Like a firm parent, he doesn’t give you a chance to disagree. “And I’m staying home to take care of you.”

Before you could argue, a loud sneeze bursts out, and you disappear. Toshinori rubs his eyes as he taps his foot and counts the seconds in his head. You bounce on the bed wearing a loose peplos that flows down to your feet. A wreath of laurel leaves perfectly sits on your head like a tiara. You toss Toshinori a crown of wild olives.

“Brought you a little souvenir from the Olympic Games.”

He catches it with ease, but is too slow to reach you. An explosive sneeze blows into your used tissue, and you pop like a bubble that was pricked by a sharp needle. Toshinori sighs again. He wastes no time making a quick call to your boss who becomes excited to hear All Might’s voice. Unfortunately, Toshinori’s ear gets attacked by the man’s unintelligible banshee screams.

Pushing through the pain, he manages to snag a sick day for you. Toshinori is not one to abuse his hero privileges, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Hanging up the phone, a sharp swoosh of air blows behind him. He turns around to see you swaying like an intoxicated person who had a few too many drinks at the bar. Perhaps the high-end court party was too generous with their delicious wine.

Still, you feel woozy even if you didn’t drink anything. Any other day you would have appreciated how the gorgeous dark blue Victorian Rococo dress flatters your figure. The fine, golden embroidered floral pattern running along the fabric leaves Toshinori in awe. Who needs to visit the Met when you’re a walking Baroque painting?

However, you feel like absolute roadkill. The enormous hair wig weighs you down like a heavy anchor and disturbs your center of gravity. One small misstep and you’ll fall face-first on the floor. You annoyingly puff at the large, blue feather blocking your eyes.

“We are not doing any ballroom dancing dates for a long time.”

“Sure, honey.” Toshinori holds in his laughter. “Your boss gave you the day off. So why don’t I help you get—“ Another sneeze rudely cuts him off. A tiny feather gently falls to the ground as Toshinori’s head hangs low. Finishing his sentence, he mutters “—back to bed.”

Grabbing the dustpan, he cleans up the scattered tissues and waits for your return. It’s the only thing he could do when you’re sick and sneeze to other periods. The closet doors rattle and you stumble out with a painful groan, looking greener than Midoriya’s hair. Luckily the vomit subsides after doing some breathing exercises.

Toshinori comes to your rescue like the true hero he is. Your head bangs against his chest once the room starts spinning. You muffle, “Leonardo Da Vinci says hi.”

An arm cradles you closer into his warm embrace. He admires the cherry red Italian renaissance dress you’re wearing; it fits you like a glove. Your nose scrunches and you go still. A sneeze dangerously grows inside, tickling for an escape. Before you could unleash the chaos, two fingers pinch your nose close. A staggered breath slips through your gaped mouth.

“Blow,” Toshinori orders when a tissue settles on your nose. Gooey snot destroys the pristine Kleenex and joins the massive snow pile overflowing from the trash bin. He guides you to the bed. “Get some rest. I’ll make you a nice cup of green tea.”

“Thank you, Toshi.”

“Don’t you want to change out of your dress first?”

“No, it’s okay,” you mumble under the covers. The pillows feel nice and soft, like a fluffy cloud or a sheep’s wool. In between yawns, you say, “There’s no…corset under…dress.”

Sleep takes over the moment both eyes close. Toshinori stays behind and sends a quick text message to Principal Nezu about not coming into work today. He brushes the little hair strands sitting along your forehead with a faint smile. You look so peaceful, like a beautiful renaissance angel blessing his soul.

A loud snore disrupts the graceful illusion.

“At least you’re not sneezing,” Toshinori chuckles, fixing the pillows so you’re more comfortable. He shuts the blinds and gently closes the door on his way out. The hot tea, along with a nice, hearty bowl of soup for lunch, will help fight the cold.

Besides, he’s been itching to use the old teacup you “accidentally” brought back from your trip to the Ming-dynasty era.

Thank you for reading!

#toshinori yagi x reader #toshinori x reader #all might x reader #toshinori yagi #all might #bnha imagines #my hero academia #weekly prompt story #time travel #boku no hero academia

[heli0s-writes]

“I’ll wait.”

With Bucky, for an anonymous request. I love pining, dreamy landscapes, and soft Bucky. 1.4k words. 🌻🌱🌷🍃

[28 WAYS Masterlist // Prompts]

The path through the woods is overrun. Heat of a thawed winter warms his determined steps as wild grass stems flick his shins. Speckled seed heads bow when he parts them with ease. His destination is sharper each passing second and he feels it shudder awake and alive, rocking him with anticipation.

Nestled inside the verdant greenery even maps couldn’t mark is the safehouse cabin, a sanctuary of dappled sunlight and unspoiled earth. A secret you keep close to your heart, allowing only few to know.

Bucky would never have come to your hideaway uninvited.

But it had been a week without you and the ache grew restless.

Inside, the imprint of your shadow reveals furtive observations his heart collects when you’re around: half-finished mugs of coffee, abandoned papers by the dining table showcasing scenery in skillful marks, its accompanying array of chalk pastels to the side. Bucky investigates your traces like footsteps of a trail, eyes reaching stems of wilderness collected and pressed between journals. Novels piled in stacks on the counter with fondly dogeared pages of tender quotes.

Faithful habits of chasing escapism he knows all too well.

The bedroom door is slightly ajar, but empty still. Pillows are pushed down in careless piles, blankets and sheets crumpled against each other. How did you look this morning, he wonders. Hair mussed prettily in disarray? Long lashes fluttering, heavy-lidded for a few blessed seconds?

A glance at the softly indented spot where your cheek laid just hours prior and he exhales.

Probably lovely. Like always.

There.

Bucky spots the familiar hue of your crown deep in wild grass. Buzzing wings land on your bicep, crawl to your elbow. Wildflowers are entangled sweetly in your hair.

Ethereal and finally found like the recollection of a wayward dream.

A delicately molded face with rounded chin regards his figure. You are resplendent like spring itself, yet the corner of your bottom lip is pulled inside your mouth, tongue holding back the tide of a million thoughts.  

Bucky swallows drily when a pained smile shifts your eyes downward, but neither of you are ready to address your isolation or his arrival. Instead, one hand reaches forward over the blades, palm faced at a slant, eyes imploring him closer.

Effortless steps lead him past tall trunks. He’s close behind your graceful weaving, hand over yours carefully, keeping you close as if he might lose you again.

Trees finally give way to a small clearing where fallen logs lie haphazardly, adorned by worms and beetles that loiter about in ridges of the bark. Dandelions rise from the earth between tufts of grass and droop gently in the breeze. Patches of dirt pattern the forest floor, quickly becoming overcrowded with seeds and remnants of the nature all around.

He’s awestruck by how you find these pockets of splendor where time fades and surroundings suddenly seem to be glazed over by a painter’s brush. Delicate phthalo emerald leaves, linseed glaze of the highest shine, gold-grained flecks over blades of grass, and it’s like he’s entered a Rococo rendering. A pastoral Arcadian landscape, fragrant and idyllic and sublime. Steve would weep at the sight if he were here.

You shift into the scenery— all light-footed with buoyant step until you pause, distracted by a ring of chanterelles. Half-shaded by the canopy, half-illuminated by the streaming and stubborn sun, their soft caps looking like thick marshmallow brushwork.

“Better not step in or fairies will take you.”

A mischievous peek at him before you turn back around. Intrigued blue admire the collection of buds falling apart in your hair, lavender and orange petals crumbling down your back and he thinks for a moment perhaps fairies have already taken hold of him.

  At a stream of water, you kneel and invite Bucky to your side with earnest pats. Tilting forward on elbows and knees, you press your body to the ground and gaze at the trickle as it runs, mouth curving into a smile. The wide neck of your top slips when you duck to smell a blossom, exposing a broad line of collar and shoulder. Strips of baby-fresh skin cord down your arm like vines, strangling the moment.

Six days with your advanced healing and you’re practically brand new again in all ways but one.

“Buck? I’m glad you’re here.” Your mouth opens after a second of mulling over a thought, breath on the pinnacle of a confession before a snap and pop alerts both your heads over the water to where something emerges from behind a tree. He’s already up on his feet, poised to protect, drawing laughter from your throat when you spot the intruder.

Tawny grey and absurdly harmless, the bunny’s nose is frantically twitching, cheek full of sweet berries but alert with wild panic. One tall ear quirks Bucky’s way and the moment grows quiet as the three of you watch each other earnestly, before finally, as if it’s had enough of his shadow, it takes off into the deeper woods behind.

“Sorry,” he offers, sitting back down on his haunches.

A swat to his knee—mouth still cheerful, “Nah, just in its nature to run.” Then, suddenly, you avert your gaze. “Keeping itself safe.”

One hand wraps around the other shoulder and you begin to cave, folding inward like those bedsheets, pulling yourself smaller and smaller. “Maybe it’s in my nature to run, too.”

The quiver of your voice wounds him. The ache, the tremble, the silent lament when you duck your head down, hiding. Bucky waits for now, lets you have a few seconds because he knows you need this: the silence and comfort of nothing sentient. The balm of meandering wind prose. The consoling ebb of water. The midnight song of crickets because sometimes the human world is too loud, too painful, violent, and unfair. Indiscriminately vicious. Because sometimes, people hurt, and hurt, and hurt.  

And despite your best efforts—you hurt, too.

Your heart behaves in ways he’s well-versed in. He knows it. Knows you.

  You remain on the forest floor, face buried into the crook of your elbow and it reminds him of how you lie supine across the couch after sunset, feet propped in his lap, watching the warm sherbet gradient, patient for the curtain of night when all things rest. Aglow and warmed by the disappearing sunlight. Painted blue-gold. A little shattered. Still lovely.

Deeper in the woods, birds begin to sing.

Bucky reaches forward tentatively, slowly, until he’s holding your arm, fingers gently curling. “Hey,” he whispers when you rise from the curve of your elbow to look at him. “I’m not in a hurry to leave. I’ll wait.”

He points to the tepid rivulet, a trickle of it going sideways and cutting through a patch of dirt. “Bit of running water, nice sunshine. Looks like our day’s booked full.”

It’s enough to make you grin even if your smile is a little swollen around the edges.

A breath as you trace the slope of his touch all the way back up to his face. Another breath as you watch him watching you, lips slightly parted, eyes searching, knowing, seeing you. Caring for you.

And then you’re up, closest hand gripping his, other one reaching with haste to find his neck, or chest, something to support your weight when you pitch forward.

Even though he wasn’t expecting it, but because he’s fast, Bucky meets you halfway, pulling you flush into his lap, letting your damp cheeks rest on his collar. Like he’s done it all his life, his arms arrange themselves without another thought, locked tightly over your back, fingers stroking lightly down your spine.

  A gentle breeze blows through and ruffles his eyelashes under the canopy, scattered sunlight falls on his chestnut head, lighting up stray hairs. He’s warm daylight and sugary sunshine. Soothing meadow brook music and butterfly wing caresses. Your heart bumps along in time with his, chest on chest when you turn and look up at him, nose tip rubbing against his chin. Bucky chances a smile at you, sincere and concerned and doting.

Lovely, you think. Like always.

You graze your cheek over his, eyelashes kissing along the path, feeling emboldened nestled like this, wanting to tell him—show him—feel him, too.

But instead, like that little rabbit, you tuck yourself back and away, not yet ready.

Bucky hums to the tune of your breath when you shyly press your brow against his collar, cutting off the start of an apology with a promise. “It’s okay.”

And it is.

Birdsongs echo through the trees and he feels it in his bones the way you sink into his hold. Trembling and warm and perfect. Heartbeat dancing along with his. 

He’s waited hundred years for a love like this. 

He’d be happy to wait a hundred more.

-

perm tags: @whothehellisbucky @serpentbaby @badassbaker @alagalaska @cake-writes @crist1216 @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @infinity-saga @jamesbarnesthighs @pinknerdpanda @xoxabs88xox @imsoft-barnes @momc95 @typicalangel @wretchedgoddess @readeity @iwannasail @ya-lyublu-tebya​ @geeksareunique​ @wildefire​ @satanxklaus @jhangelface0523 @wkemeup​ @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave​

#marvel #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #reader iinsert #fanfiction #28 WAYS

[iridessence]

So my bedroom and sanctuary finally feels complete! It’s taken 4 years but it’s come together, featuring influences from the beautiful rococo, Queen Anne, French Country, Victorian and Hollywood regency styles. Read on for text details or skip to the bottom to reply to my prompt!

A couple weeks ago I enlisted some friends to repaint the walls. Originally two were lilac when i moved in and back then I had painted the other two a light blue which you see in many photos. Now they’re a delicate pink (the shade was called “Pink Ribbon” so of course I had to have it!) with vertical stripe overlays of a white regal/floral pattern rolled on that looks like wallpaper, but at a fraction of the cost. I redid my frame wall, adding more opulent designs and this time actually putting up pictures of my icons and people that inspire me! I also painted my wrought iron headboard gold.

In the last year I’ve replaced various furniture items I’d been given, with pieces that matched what I was going for aesthetically and added new trinkets and delicate odds and ends— most of which are used and/or vintage. I also upgraded the accessories and vanity in my bathroom.

To quite literally top it all off, I searched high and low and found a gold leaf reproduction tole style chandelier, around which I wrapped a pink rose vine and from which i draped crystals, and it was installed just yesterday. I actually have... a chandelier... in my bedroom now! It all simply looks unreal.

And the overall costs for the level of visual opulence I achieved is unbelievable. That being said, it meant it took lots of time, effort, research and combing the internet, thrift stores and vintage sales for the right deals and right items, but this labor of love was absolutely worth it.

So many parts were previously unfinished or didn’t fit before and I had to be strategic in my framing to compensate, but now I want to share it with you all. I’m going to re-debut my fairytale space in all its glory, so I may do a live tour on Instagram sometime soon. Please let me know in the replies if you would be interested in that!

#bedroom #chandelier #rococo #hollywood regency #french country

[kittae]

Bal Masqué (M)

Pairing: Jimin x reader

Genre: Smut, vampire!au, fantasy, elements inspired by True Blood

Word count: 5438

Warnings: mentions of blood, graphic sexual descriptions, mentions of Jungkook and Taehyung

A/N: i wasted a lot of time on this shitty header, but i hope you’ll still enjoy reading this because i enjoyed the hell out of writing it! unedited so please excuse any mistakes for now!

MASTERLIST

→ Halloween prompts masterlist

→ Halloween prompts WIPs

It was the most excessive thing you had ever witnessed in your entire life, there was no doubt about that. The decadent ballroom was astonishing in itself with its rococo interior, marble floors and staircases leading to balconies with velvet curtains that could be closed for anyone with money who needed some privacy if the party didn’t offer enough excitement on its own. In every corner there were clattering fountains, more champagne than water, and butlers standing to your disposal whether you were in need of a luxurious mask in case you hadn’t brought one, or a fix of something more...stimulating.

Events like these made you feel terribly out of place, making you wonder what a girl who lives in a one bedroom apartment in the back street of a rough neighbourhood was doing between greek statues made flesh in expensive couture ball gowns and diamond embroidered masks. It was ironic, really, how you played a dangerous game with your life to get a taste of the life of the rich and famous and then feel less than a puny ant when you did.

“You look ravishing tonight.” two cool arms curling around your cinched waist and a pair of puffy lips grazing the shell of your ear startled you out of your pondering thoughts. “Mmm, I could just eat you up.”

And your date had finally arrived as well, it seemed.

“I’m sure you could.” you rolled your eyes before turning around in his arms until your chests were firmly pressed together, your bosom threatening to burst out of your already way too tight corset when he added extra pressure by pulling you impossibly closer, making you gasp for air in the process.

“And be sure i would, my little strawberry.” he emphasized the husky words dripping with desire by dipping his head into the crook of your neck to graze his teeth along the skin, a shiver running down your spine and causing him to smirk in satisfaction.

Trying to gain back some composure by clearing your throat, although it may not have been the best idea drawing more attention to that particular part of your body, you made an attempt to appear unaffected when you were clearly, definitely, incredibly affected.

“I like your costume, Jimin. Very original.”

You eyed the perfectly black attire, undoubtedly made of only the finest materials and the most dazzling names stitched on the labels on the inside, the cape in a red and black combo the blonde and most of all sickeningly handsome male in front of you was wearing. It was very obvious which character he was supposed to be, in contrast with you, who looked like his midnight snack at best. And that’s exactly why he picked out the blood red silk dress for you, complete with a set of jewels you didn’t even want to know the value of because you feared you’d throw yourself from the balcony in shock, and the very risqué lingerie you were wearing underneath. It wasn’t only meant to be pretty, oh no. It was fundamentally essential that you could not, would not, take two steps on your ridiculously high heels without feeling like you’d faint and breathing became a luxury much rather than a natural function of the human body.

The corset was laced so tightly it pretty much cut off your blood circulation in one part of your chest, and your veins were almost bursting in another. It made your cheeks and your breasts flush a bright red underneath your skin and left your head in a constant state of haziness, and you knew your companion had chosen your outfit with care and utmost thought.

“Not as much as i like yours…” he purred as his fingers danced across the swell of your breasts, as light as a feather, “and i decided on this costume out of convenience...With you looking like this, how am i supposed to keep my fangs to myself?”

He was right, the annual Halloween Ball was the perfect excuse for not having to hide who he was, which would��ve been difficult considering his fangs tend to just pop out whenever he starts feeling aroused.

“Let me guess, my dress is red so it won’t show when you spill my own blood all over myself?”

“Mmm, i love it when you talk dirty to me, baby,” he chuckled darkly, the deep scarlet of his eyes so captivating you didn’t notice his hand climbing up from your bust to curl its fingers around your throat instead, “but i’d save the pleasantries for later tonight, if i were you, unless you want this to happen right here and now.”

To anyone else, the shade of red covering his irises appeared to be nothing more than just a pair of very high quality colored lenses, but you knew how perfectly real they were. You knew how they could make your mind empty and replace your thoughts with only those Jimin wanted you to have, as easy as cleaning out a box of old and boring toys and filling them with brand new ones. You were aware of the power he had over you, how he could rob you of your sanity with a whisper and make you forget your own name, should you stare into those sanguine orbs for a second too long. Most of all, you would never forget the way they would bleed into blackness right before he would bare his sharp teeth to sink them into your paper thin skin and feast on your blood, which he solemnly swears is the best he’d ever tasted in his roughly one thousand years of roaming this earth. You decided to take it as a compliment.

“Now, you look like you could use a refreshment,’ he mused, “i can hear you swallowing every five seconds and i’m afraid this night will be a short one if you keep that going.”

Upon hearing his words, you only then realized the texture of your throat was close to that of sandpaper and your mouth went dry from taking deep gulps of air at a time in an attempt not to faint in the first hour you’ve been attending the party. A cool drink did sound really good.

When you got to the bar, you thought it might as well have been a very fancy liquor store. There was just so much alcohol. So much. Many of the bottles on the shelves you had never seen, names you had never heard of. All those colours...It was enthralling. You would’ve stood there slack-jawed for much longer if Jimin hadn’t closed your mouth by tapping your chin with his finger.

“What do you want, babe? Don’t drink those melon shots again though, i don’t like what it does with the taste of your blood. It’s a bad comb-”

“Jiminie? I thought it was you!” a foreign, baritone voice suddenly sounded from behind you.

You would’ve laughed at the way Jimin’s eyes almost bugged out of his sockets if it wasn’t for the sheer look of panic washing over his face, his features darkening dangerously for only a split second before he slowly turned around to meet the face that belonged to the voice, with a perfectly bright smile plastered on his plush lips.

“Taehyung! Didn’t expect to see you here tonight!” Jimin greeted the taller man enthusiastically, his voice loud and a pitch you’d never witnessed before as he slapped the stranger’s shoulder in a familiar manner, and did you hear it wrong or was he giggling?! It was almost comical to you, this side of him you found very amusing since it was so vastly different from the dominant vampire who always wanted to be in control. Interesting.

The stranger was undoubtedly the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen in your entire life and considering you were in the company of Jimin, that meant a lot. He was so tall, his ash hair a perfect example of sexy bed hair with its untrimmed length and messy curls and the clothes he was wearing looked like designer pajamas and a peignoir you could pay five years of your rent with. His face looked like it could’ve been sculpted by ten Michelangelos, and even then it wouldn’t do it any justice. He was just oozing pure luxury and you never knew anyone could look this ostentatious.

“Ah well, you know, you can’t keep running from me, little brother,” Taehyung granted him a boxy smile as he grabbed Jimin’s shoulders to gently shake him back and forth, and your heart took a leap.

Both men suddenly turned their attention to you, their eyes flying to your chest and if you didn’t know any better, you’d guess they were checking out your décolleté. But you did know better, and in that moment you realized that this beautiful man, this Taehyung, was also a creature of the night.

“It’s only been a couple of centuries… and stop calling me your little brother Tae, i’m older than you.”

“For the last time Jimin, human age doesn’t count.” the older vampire rolled with his eyes before they scanned your body from bottom to top until they were staring right into yours, a tiny smirk tugging on his lips when he brought the glass of bourbon on the rocks between them. “Who’s this lovely lady at your side, by the way? Care to introduce me?”

Jimin’s grip around your waist tightened, for as far as you could feel any of it through the suffocating corset, and a low growl quietly erupted from deep inside his chest.

“She’s mine, that’s all you need to know.”

Tae's long earring dangled back and forth when he shook his head with a light-hearted snicker, “Still haven’t lost the possessiveness, I see? You should join a nest, I’ve been saying that for over five hundred years. Loosen up, live a little. Might be good for you, brother.”

“Nests are disgusting. Besides, shouldn't you focus on your own human? You haven't even introduced your newest plaything.” Jimin quipped, tilting his head to look at the shirtless man shyly hiding behind Taehyung.

“Plaything?” Taehyung gasped indignantly, clutching the younger male to his chest in a tight, protective hug, “Kookie and I are in love!”

“Really? You went from telling me to join a nest to saying you’re in love with a human in the span of ten seconds, Taehyung.” Jimin deadpanned before going over his brother’s companion’s form, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion when he eyed the tight black boxer briefs, the separate white collar and black bow tie and...well there wasn’t much other clothing to consider, was there? “Why aren’t you wearing cl- i mean, what is your costume supposed to be...Kookie?”

The dark-haired young man looked flustered, not having expected to be acknowledged or spoken to directly by anyone other than Taehyung, much less his hot brother. You guessed he must be feeling the same way you were. You were just two humans, being dragged along by two ridiculously good-looking vampires at a decadent masquerade halloween ball. You almost felt bad for him for having to walk around such an event half naked, but then you tried to breathe and remembered that, oh yeah, you couldn’t. That damn corset. You’d trade costumes with him in a heartbeat.

“I’m...well...i’m a...a-” he stuttered quietly, cheeks flushed a bright pink as he looked at the ground because Jimin’s gaze got too intense. You’d been there, too.

“He’s a bunny.” Taehyung swooped in matter-of-factly, pointing at the headband with rabbit ears on top of his lover’s head. “Duh.”

“Ohh, like a playboy bunny?” you finally spoke for the first time since Taehyung joined you.

“See! Strawberry shortcake here gets it! You haven’t been walking this earth for over a thousand years to have such poor knowledge of costumes, Jimin. He’s a playboy bunny and i’m Hugh Hefner.”

“You just made that up, didn’t you? Just admit you needed an excuse to go to this party in pajamas and have your Kookie here walk around as naked as possible without having people ask too many questions.”

“Says the one who went as himself with the addition of a tasteless cape and dressed his partner up like his own personal lollipop.” Taehyung countered his brother’s witty remark before turning to you to fleetingly caress your cheek, knowing it would rile Jimin up all the more. “No offense, sweetheart, you make a great sucking stick.”

You wanted to feel offended but he wasn’t exactly wrong, was he? Also, just the way those words sounded in his low, velvet voice was so charming you almost took them as a compliment. Your skin burned where he’d touched you as you witnessed the banter between the two vampire brothers, and judging from the look on Jimin’s face, you could tell this wasn’t the first time this had occurred. How could it be when they’ve known each other for so long?

“Well, if you’ll excuse us, my sucking stick and i are going to dance.” Jimin gently took your hand with a wry smile before bowing curtly to his brother. “It was nice seeing you again, Taehyung. You too Kookie, don’t catch a cold.”

You could only just watch the bunny boy’s face get flushed again as he muttered a quiet “Thank you” under his breath and notice Taehyung wink at you mischievously before Jimin pulled you away and lead you to the enormous dance floor.

He had such a sturdy pace going there, you found it difficult to keep up in your five inch heels as you swerved through the crowd of swirling bodies, masked faces and bellowing gowns when they spun around with the music until he found an empty spot, where he could pull you so close not even a hair would fit in between your bodies.

“Are you upset?” you asked, observing the way his eyebrows frowned in a tense manner, how his lips were tightly pressed together when he ignored your words as he started swaying left and right in circles, having a tight grip on your waist and hand and pulling you along. “Jimin, we’re dracula and his sucking stick, not Fred and Ginger, remember?”

“You’re my bride! Can you not use that ass cactus’ words to describe yourself?”

“I thought it was funny.”

Jimin’s jaw muscle twitched slightly. “Just follow my lead and you’ll be fine.”

Before you even had the time to open your mouth to protest and tell him you didn’t have a single rhythmical bone in your body whatsoever, he quite literally swept you off your feet. Surprisingly enough, the two of you easily flowed in rhythm with the song, a complete orchestra on a huge balcony upstairs providing the magical music the faceless crowd spun and twirled to on the already packed dance floor.

When they set in a seductive tune, you didn’t have to do much. Jimin strung you along in the right direction at the right time, like you were his little puppet. Yet sweat trickled down your spine and your cleavage, the room feeling unbearably hot all of a sudden when it seemed like all the oxygen in the air started to evaporate. With another backwards bow before Jimin pulled you back up against his chest, you felt your breath getting knocked out of your lungs and your head spinning violently, like you were on a carousel.

“Jimin…” you gasped, your eyes rolling back when they started seeing black spots everywhere. Your ribs felt like they were going to break in their cage and your insides squeezed to mush. You couldn’t take it much longer. “Corset...can’t- can’t b-breathe…”

The blonde looked puzzled, as if he didn’t understand what you were trying to say. “What?” “Too ti...tight.” you slurred weakly. “Take it off...now…”

Jimin wildly looked around him, contemplating what to do. When he felt you swaying in his arms, on the verge of fainting, his fingers laced themselves into the tight web of threads on your back and pulled, the material ripping to shreds and freeing your aching lungs from its confines.

“Let’s get you out of here.” he spoke softly as he picked you up, ironically enough, bridal-style to make his way through the crowd of masks.

You were still groggy from the momentary suffocation, your eyelids lazily blinking while taking in your surroundings, degraded to blurry patches and muted sounds. It felt like Jimin was walking up stairs. You didn’t really care, you were glad you could breathe again.

“Honestly woman, who laced you in so impossibly tight? If i had known i’d have done it myself-”

You wanted to remind him of the fact he sent his female secretary, also a vampire, to help you get dressed before the party. She’d been around for a while and told you to just suck it up, quite literally. But just as you parted your lips, Jimin pushed the heavy curtain of a balcony to the side and your eyes fell on something that just rendered you speechless.

You immediately recognized the gorgeous profile as that of Taehyung, whom you’ve met only shortly before, but in between two muscular, naked thighs, belonging to a panting and moaning Kookie. As he laid there, legs spread and chest heaving while his lover’s tongue danced across his sensitive skin, or rather the purple flowers blooming underneath, he let his head fall back on the armrest of the sofa they nestled themselves into, bunny ears askew on his head. It was truly a sinful sight.

When you gasped, whether in surprise or arousal you weren’t sure, Taehyung slowly turned his head towards where Jimin was still holding you by the curtain, as if he only now noticed your presence for the first time. His sharp fangs shimmered when he grinned in the dark of the privacy of the balcony booth, the revelry downstairs only distant background noise.

“Why brother, if you wanted to join, you could’ve just said so.” he purred, stroking the younger male’s bruised up thighs as he spoke and watching the latter shiver in delight, something hard and distinct twitching in his tight boxer briefs. “Hurry though, Kookie’s getting impatient.”

“No, thank you.” Jimin countered through gritted teeth, but not before dipping the words in a coat of distaste.

Taehyung tsked in disapproval, shaking his head. “Always so vanilla. In that case, this booth is occupied, so if you don’t mind?”

You watched him get back to his ministrations like he never got interrupted in the first place and when he licked a long, wet stripe across his Kookie’s clothed erection, Jimin took it as your cue to leave.

He brought you to the last balcony at the end of the hallway, and it felt like he teleported you there in the blink of an eye. In some way, it was true. When he laid you down on the sofa much like the one you saw one seriously fucked out and admittedly really hot young man moaning in ecstasy only a few seconds ago, you still seemed to have trouble breathing even though the corset no longer cut off your air supply.

“Why is your heart racing like that? Shouldn’t it be slower if you only just fainted?” Jimin wondered out loud, his brows furrowing in confusion but quickly raising in surprise when you pulled him down by his collar for a quick and messy kiss.

“Take off my dress.” your whispered words touched his lips, making him subconsciously chase after them.

“Is it still too tight?”

“No.”

There it was. The black of his pupils bleeding into his irises. The sign, the startshot. His lips parted slightly and you could make out the pointy ends of his fangs just a little bit. You recalled how he skimmed his fingers over your breasts to subtly wrap them around your throat instead earlier tonight when he was repeating the gesture in this very moment, where your eyes locked even though his were only a bottomless pit.

“You’re thirsty.” you remarked, knowing all too well the tell-tale signs of surfacing veins branching out underneath his skin from his eyes to his cheekbones.

“Not for blood, i’m not.” he answered, slowly guiding the inflexible fabric of the corset off your bust until the hem grazed your nipples, sensitive and hard from watching the short scene between the two lovers before and the angel of darkness being consumed with lust right now in front of you. Human and vampire. The exact same position you were in.

You let your head fall back with a sigh, willfully exposing your neck to him. “I can see that you are.” your voice thick with want and fingers grazing his slightly unbuttoned shirt at the top of his chest to feel his defined pecs while your own arousal trickled down your thighs.

“Do you take me for a baby vamp, darling?” he mused, a low snicker resonating through his nevertheless burning throat. “I think you underestimate my ability to be ascetic...when i need to be. Making a mess out of you is just so much fun, though.”

All the while he spoke, he skillfully undressed you. The complex draperies had no secrets for his experienced fingers and you silently wondered how many of these dresses he’s had between them, queens and duchesses alike, before they finally disrobed your humble body this very moment.

“I thought we were going to have a drink,” his hands moved from your waist down to your hips when he lowered his lips to your ear, “then dance through at least five songs to get you riled up enough,” he grabbed your thighs and slowly spread them apart, “but that wasn’t necessary, was it? Hm? Someone else already did that for me, didn’t he?”

His fingers swiftly disappeared between your thighs to brush your sex through your matching red lace panties, causing a shiver to run down your spine in delight and impatience, the touch granting momentary satisfaction but so fleeting it only left you wanting more.

“You’re dripping through your pretty panties, baby,” he cooed, putting more pressure on your throbbing clit, but still not giving you the satisfaction of his fingers on your naked skin, let alone inside you. “Did Taehyung do this to my little strawberry? Did you see how good he was making Kookie feel and did you cream your underwear like this as a result?”

You nodded frantically, too light-headed to form words when you felt him slide the fabric to the side to softly graze your lower lips, making you hiss in sensitivity and bucking your hips up to meet his touch.

“Look at you, so eager… You want me to do to you what you saw my brother do to Kookie earlier, yes? Or did you want me to say yes when he asked to join? Have him touch you like this,” he dipped a single finger shallowly inside, resisting the urge to let it get sucked in by your greedy pussy, “Instead of me?”

You were on the verge of tears, so desperate for anything he wanted to give you, recalling the sinful scene of Taehyung sucking bruises into the younger man’s sturdy thighs and a wave of arousal shooting through your core once more.

“P-please, Jimin,” you swallowed thickly, wrapping a leg around his hip and carding a hand through his soft, blonde hair.

“I can see the images in your head,” he murmured, nipping at the skin of your neck before laving his tongue over the faint mark he left behind and simultaneously, finally pushing his finger further until it curled against your walls. “He really left an impression, didn’t he?”

You wanted to deny it, the slight bitterness in his voice not going by unnoticed and you didn’t want to upset him any further. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t make your mind lie even if your lips could, and he saw everything. You wanted Jimin so bad, but you couldn’t get the image of the two gorgeous boys, one nestled in between the other’s legs as he laid there fucked out and begging to be had. You couldn’t help it and whatever may have happened between the two vampire brothers in the past, you felt like you struck a nerve.

“I-I don’t-” you began, breathlessly, but Jimin quickly helped by adding a second digit and making you gasp, your body squirming under his touch while he casually continued to cover your neck in kisses.

“You want to reenact what we saw?” he suddenly proposed, the silken words whispered in your ear striking sparks along your flesh, your temperature rising rapidly from the pleasure inflicted by his fingers languidly moving inside you, “Would you like that, sweetheart? Hm?”

You nodded again, so hard you thought you were going to sprain your neck and Jimin snickered under his breath before he retracted his fingers from within your tight core. You whined at the loss of contact, but the disappointment got soothed when he lowered himself between your legs, kissing his way down your torso until he reached the place you needed his kisses the most. Of course, that would be too easy.

“Remember this?” he grinned, the pearly white of his fangs setting off strongly against the darkness of the isolated balcony and your memory instantly making a connection with the moment Taehyung turned his head to meet the two of you standing there, watching him. Your breath instantly hitched.

Jimin chuckled humorlessly, tightening his grip on the flesh of your thighs before his lips descended there as well. “Yeah, you do. Keep your eyes on me, darling.”

Before you knew what he meant, he started sucking harsh hickeys into your skin, granting you the confusing pleasure and pain you knew his lips could inflict on your flesh and making you throw your head back in bliss. He wouldn’t stop until you were covered in red and purple stains, the only flowers that would bring you joy the ones blossoming underneath your skin. Every time he finished making one bloom, he soothed it with his soft tongue.

“Such a lovely bouquet.” he hummed distractedly, your eyes glued to his face as he inhaled your scent, the scent of your blood surfacing but not quite enough to taste it.

“Jimin, please…” you tried again, irrationally hoping he’d look into your head to know what you wanted, but you knew him better than that. You couldn’t stop watching him as he completely ruined your skin in the best way possible, your desire for him to take you the strongest it’s ever been.

Your only answer was a soft chuckle before his lips left your thighs to go in a more central direction, licking his way up the front of your drenched panties. A high-pitched mewl rolled off your tongue while his circled around your clothed clit, your hips rolling to keep him going, to express your neediness somehow.

“This is where it ended, remember?” Jimin interrupted your moment, the smirk evident in his voice.

“No...No, please, keep going!” you begged, pitifully whining as you tangled your fingers into his blonde strands, tugging just a little because you knew that’s what he liked.

“Hmm? Are you sure? You want me to pick up where he left off?”

You’d honestly already half forgotten about how this was supposed to be a reenactment of what you saw Taehyung do to Kookie, but you knew Jimin was just doing this to mess with you. You knew he could see inside your mind and know Taehyung had already left a long time ago. That’s been his goal all along.

“Yes, yes!” you whimpered impatiently, locking his head in between your thighs and almost smothering him against your aching pussy, making him giggle in delight. You never knew a vampire who was so happy to please. “Please, Jimin...”

“Mmm, you want me to devour your juicy little cunt, don’t you sweetheart?” he asked you softly, his velvety voice compelling you to give him an answer if it wasn’t for his tongue drawing patterns against your lowers lips and his fingers playing with the edge of your panties distracting you. You wouldn’t even know he was talking about such dirty things just going off by how he said them.

“Ye-yes, please.”

It was all you managed to get past your lips before a moan slipped from in between them when Jimin’s wet muscle suddenly found your bare skin, your panties gone in the fraction of a second when he ripped them to shreds. He dove in like he’d been waiting just as eagerly as you have, although he probably had a lot more self-restraint.

He wasted no time in letting his fingers join while his lips closed themselves around your little bundle of nerves, suckling on it as his fingers slid inside to fill you up.

“F-fuck...Jimin…” you panted as you let wave after wave of incredible pleasure wash over you, the particularly hard sucks around your little nub shooting through your nerves like electric shocks and having been so wound up for what seemed to have been eons, you felt yourself getting there embarrassingly fast. He just managed to push all the right buttons, his fingers prodding and stroking at your sweet spot while your swollen clit throbbed inside his mouth as he continued sucking and licking with varying pressure and driving you wild.

“Jimin! I’m-i’m not gonna-gonna be able to-”

As if he knew what you were going to say, that you were getting dangerously close, and he probably did, his lips left your nub with a lewd, wet sucking sound, only to move a few inches to the left to reach your inner thigh to bear his fangs and sink them into your flesh. The sharp sting and sudden, overwhelming pain that followed was the last push you needed to come hard, your arousal covering his fingers still guiding you through your mind-blowing and confusing pain-induced orgasm as your blood started to flow inside his mouth, his soft lips somewhat soothing the painful wounds as they brushed over your skin while he eagerly drank every drop. Your mind was empty save for the image of Jimin feeding himself before you, the blood leaving your body no longer painful but a strange, pleasurable feeling that left your head light and hazy, your chest heaving with the aftermath of an orgasm that knocked the wind out of you.

He didn’t go overboard. He never did, as a vampire of his age and experience should. He only needed a little, and even then it was more for the taste than to nurture himself. You’d expected him to heal you right away and call it a day, but he went straight for your core again.

“Jimin!” you gasped, surprised, when he locked his lips with yours down below and greedily licked up anything you spilled, his tongue dancing over your skin and making sure to clean everything up.

“Dinner and dessert.” he chuckled with a last kiss to your center before he pushed himself up on his elbows to hover over you, making a tiny incision in his index finger by pushing it against the tip of his fang before spreading a little of his blood onto the wounds on your thighs. They closed miraculously quick, your skin healed like nothing had ever happened.

You smiled, satisfied, although you felt spent. Jimin tended to have that effect on you, and you absolutely loved it.

“I hope you’re not too tired, sweetheart.” he purred as he slowly kissed around your chest, sometimes stopping to nip at one of your nipples. “The night is still young… And you know what your blood does to me, don’t you, baby?”

Your eyes widened in realization, and when Jimin rolled his hips between yours for you to feel his painfully hard cock through his pants, you knew this was going to be a long night. For you, and probably Kookie, too.

#jimin smut #bts smut #bts #bts scenarios #jimin scenarios #bts x reader #jimin x reader #vampire!jimin #vampire!bts #vampire!au #bts fanfiction #jimin fanfiction #park jimim #bangtan sonyeondan #bangtan boys

[geekmama]

A Seminal Moment

Post TFP established Sherlolly sexy times based on a prompt from tumblr's holidaysat221b: ‘Molly loves wearing Sherlock’s house robes’ as requested by @mel-loves-all, with thanks to Ellis_Hendricks for looking it over. Also, I am assuming ‘house robes’ refers to dressing gowns, rather than the Harry Potter sort, because Sherlock’s are truly something to behold.

“What are you doing? You can’t give that to charity!” 

Molly’s been in the bedroom for the last half hour, sorting through their clothing and filling a box with items that are either unacceptably out of style (his) or somewhat worse for wear (his and hers, as each of their careers is potentially ruinous to even the most carefully chosen habiliments). Now, however, she looks up at Sherlock in sympathy and says, “I know! It breaks my heart, too. It used to be my favorite of your dressing gowns, but this stain on the shoulder won’t come out, I’ve tried, and I’ve sent it to the dry cleaners twice. I’m afraid it’s time.” 

Sherlock knows her point is valid: the aftermath of Rosie’s first foray into the gastronomic delights of pureed applesauce and blueberries will not soon be forgotten. Yet he’s already opened his mouth to protest when his beloved speaks again. 

“Do you remember that time I wore it? After that one case? A couple of weeks before Rosie was born?” 

Molly is looking down, fondly stroking the fine camel coloured material, and she doesn’t see Sherlock’s reaction to her words… doesn’t see the flush that can’t be avoided as the vision comes rushing out to assail him from what is now the Molly Hooper Wing of his Mind Palace (delicately Rococo in decor, yet redolent of comfort… joy… love). 

The memory of that late afternoon when they’d returned to 221B, both of them laughing and soaked from a sudden and surprisingly violent rainstorm, is precisely why that garment should not be given away. 

Oh, he remembers. How he’d turned to her with an offer of hot tea on his lips (since Mrs. Hudson was still at a matinee with Mr. Chatterjee) and was arrested at the sight of his Molly (he had already been thinking of her as “his” for some time, he now realizes) blithely stripping off her cardigan to reveal the light, flowered frock beneath, a garment wholly inadequate to the changeable weather. It was now dripping, clinging, and deliciously -- disconcertingly-- semi-transparent. 

Really, it’s quite astonishing how a single moment can alter one’s views so dramatically. 

A step forward… her startled gaze… his left arm slipping about her slender shoulders… his right hand caressing the delicate, tantalizing curve of damp, veiled breast… his thumb brushing the erect, pebbled peak, drawing a gasp -- surprise? delight? -- even as their lips meet... the rush of blood… the soft moan… 

“Oh, dear! Sorry!” had been her actual words, however, as she’d clutched her wet jumper to her chest, still laughing -- probably at his stunned expression. “Can I use one of your dressing gowns while I throw these in the dryer?” 

“Yes… yes, of course.” He’d cleared his throat and blurted, “I’ll make tea,” as he’d retreated into the kitchen. 

His own clothes had been only slightly damp, protected as they had been by his Belstaff, so he hadn’t bothered to change himself, just made hot tea and sat down, trying to regain his equilibrium. Presently she had emerged again. He remembers thinking how well the camel color of his dressing gown contrasted with her hair, which was still wet but had been combed out and twisted into a neat updo. There was still a smile on her lips, and in her eyes, and her cheeks had been pink with happiness and good health. The sash of his dressing gown was tight about her trim waist, and the mere suggestion of curves beneath the soft material, the feminine swell of breast and hip, had been enough to make him shift uncomfortably in his chair. 

How is it I’ve never really noticed these things before? he remembers thinking. 

He’d watched in fascination as she’d moved gracefully about, then sat demurely in John’s old chair to drink her tea, her eyes warm upon him while he tried to look nonchalant. 

He knows, now, what the real question had been. 

“Sherlock?” comes her uncertain voice. 

Uncertain, but amused, too. 

He pulls himself together. Goes to her, and takes the dressing gown out of her hands, and sets it aside. 

Kisses her. 

She is surprised, but quickly overcomes it, and laughingly reaches up, her hand cool against his cheek. 

When she finally can, she says, a little breathlessly, “You do remember!” 

“Bed,” he tells her, and sweeps her up. 

“But--” 

“No,” he says, firmly. Many things are pleasingly, demandingly firm at this particular moment. 

And fortunately she seems to understand that, for she only sighs in surrender and when he lays her down, says, just before he kisses her, “I love you.” 

“Thank God,” he murmurs in reply, and wonders that such an utterance seems not sacrilegious but, on the contrary, entirely appropriate to the occasion.

 ~.~

#Sherlock #sherlolly #holidaysat221b

[mysunfreckle]

Patron minette on CHRISTMAS MORNING because finally they have enough money/family for christmas

YES! This has a read more because it’s 1.6k and I can cannot be trusted with holiday prompts

Patron-Minette holiday fluff, part 3! (1, 2).

Montparnasseopens his eyes and tries to decide if being awake is worth it. Wait, why is hein his living room? He sits up, his duvet sliding off him. He has apparentlyfallen asleep on his couch. There is snoring below him and when he looks downhe sees Gueulemer sleeping on the floor. Curled up in a corner, in a mess ofblankets that might almost be described as a nest, is Claquesous. Oh, right,Christmas. Montparnasse rubs his eyes. Babet had insisted on celebrating Christmasand since Montparnasse’s apartment is the biggest (due to Babet and Claquesous packingtheir floor full of unnecessary furniture), he finally relented and agreed to host.So for Christmas Eve they had all piled into his living room, watched some dumbmovie andhad so much to eat and drink none of them could move anymore. Montparnasse had lit some candles,because even though Babet had draped everything in Christmas lights it wasn’treally Christmas without candles, that much he was sure of.

Speaking ofBabet, Montparnasse doesn’t see him anywhere. And he’s the one responsible foreveryone sleeping on his floor, while having only to go up or down a flight ofstairs to reach their own beds. He had insisted that Christmas morning meanswaking up together and staying in your pyjamas.

There is a shufflingnoise behind him and Montparnasse turns around to see Babet coming out of hisbedroom.

“The fuck?”he hisses.

Babet lookscaught, but holds up Montparnasse’s laundry basket in defence. “For thepresents,” he says quietly.

“Why dothey need to be in a basket?” Montparnasse grumbles.

“Cause wedon’t have a tree,” Babet says impatiently. “Now come on. You’ve got themright?”

“Yeah,”Montparnasse yawns. He doesn’t have his own gift of course, but Babet andGueulemer both stashed a gift at his place. They sort of decided to all pitchin for each other’s gifts, letting the person that thought they had the bestidea go for it. They’re a house full of liars after all and even with threepeople knowing what the fourth is going to get they should be able to keep thesecret. And so far it seems they have. Montparnasse doesn’t know what he’sgetting, and he can see Babet glance curiously at the rectangular box wrapped inChristmas paper that Montparnasse tosses in the basket.

“Is itmorning yet?” Claquesous slurs, stirring in his nest in the corner. Hestretches his arms above his head resentfully. “Not doin’ this again. Sleptlike crap.”

Babet jumpsover Gueulemer and crouches beside him, still carrying the laundry basket. “Where’sParnasse’s present?” he asks in a whisper.

“I can hearyou,” Montparnasse snarks, getting off the couch and nudging Gueulemer with hisfoot. That does exactly nothing. Gueulemer sleeps like a log. Montparnasse isstill surprised he agreed to sleep here. He’s usually very particular abouthaving his own space. But then again, so is Montparnasse, and he fell for it.

“Gueul,” hesays pushing a little harder. He is not bending towards him though, Gueulemerhas a tendency to lash out when woken up.

“Hm?”Gueulemer grunts.

Closeenough, that should do it. Montparnasse sits down and looks up to seeClaquesous put the laundry basket down next to the slowly waking Gueulemer. Itnow has four presents in it.

“What timeis it?” Claquesous yawns, letting himself fall onto the couch next toMontparnasse.

“Christmas morning,”Babet grins, sitting in Montparnasse’s chair with his legs slung over one ofthe arm rests. “Good morning, Gueul! Merry Christmas.”

“What’swrong with you?” Gueulemer moans, sitting up. He looks up at Montparnasse. “You’reawake,” he says accusingly. “So why isn’t there coffee?”

Montparnassescoffs and Babet says indignantly: “You have hot cocoa on Christmas morning.And presents before anything!”

Gueulemermutters and sits up.

“You’re notallowed to get dressed either,”  Babetpoints out. “Tradition.” He glances uncertainly at Claquesous, who took off hisbinder before going to bed. “Unless you-”

“Presents,Babet,” he grunts.

“Right!”Babet beams, recovering immediately. “Parnasse is the youngest so he can gofirst.”

“You andSous are barely older,” Montparnassescowls.

“A year,” Claquesous scoffs.

“Just forthat, Gueul gets to go first,” Babet says and he leans over to push the baskettowards Gueulemer, who has decided to sit cross-legged on the floor instead ofjoining Montparnasse and Claqeusous on the couch.

He fishes asmall package out from the bottom of the basket. “Heavy,” he remarks, weighingit in his hand.

As heunwraps it Montparnasse feels a sudden wave of excitement. He chose Gueulemer’sgift and suddenly he really hopes that he chose well. This whole Christmasthing is mostly Babet’s idea and Montparnasse has no fondness for the holiday.The few good memories he has were nothing like this. He vaguely rememberssinging carols and a few times he and his mom were actually with his father’sfamily and they tried for a proper weihnachtsabend. This is different. He’snever given anyone a Christmas present before.

Gueulemeropens the little box and makes a surprised noise. It’s a miniature anvil. Onthe side is a relief of a blacksmith at work. Claquesous and Babet crane their necksto see, while Gueulemer sets the surprisingly solid little object on his roughpalm.

Montparnasseknows Gueulemer doesn’t really work with an anvil at the foundry, but he likesbeing called a smith instead of a metal worker. Montparnasse also knows thatGueulemer occasionally spends quite some time looking at the pretty trinketsMontparnasse gathers around his apartment.

A grinsplits Gueulemer’s face. “This is awesome,” he says. “Thank you.” He’saddressing all of them and Christmas in general, as he should.

“My turn,”Babet grins and he grabs the box with his name on it.

Claquesousrolls his eyes. Babet is about two months older than he is, but he loves to rubthat in Claquesous’ face.

“What the-?”Babet opens the box and pulls out a much smaller present. Gueulemer snickersand Claquesous and Montparnasse snort. He rips off the paper and his face lightsup. “Fuck, a real Leatherman!” He pulls out the weird plier-looking thing andstars unfolding all kinds of blades and extensions.

WhenGueulemer showed it to Montparnasse about a week ago he called it a multitool. Montparnassethinks it looks like a swish army knife on steroids.

“Thank you,this is sick,” Babet beams, dropping the packaging on the floor. He kicks thebasket towards the couch and Claquesous leans over to grab his gift.

It’s bigand shapeless, and not very well wrapped. Under the Christmas paper there’s aplastic bag that is also taped shut. Claquesous raises his eyebrows and ripsthe tape off. He opens the bag and frowns. He sticks his hand in, pullssomething out, and makes an odd sound at the back of his throat.

Babet looksat him expectantly and Montparnasse is curious too. Babet told him about thisfind, but refused to show him.

Slowly,Claquesous pulls a heavily embroidered coat from the bag. It’s in classicrococo style and so worn it has an almost ghostly appearance. The ruffles aretattered and the velvet faded, but it’s- “Gorgeous,” Claquesous breathes.

“They werethrowing it out at the theatre,” Babet mutters, looking pleased. “So I offeredto buy it.”

“Shouldhave just fucking taken it,” Claquesous says indignantly, clearly offended atthe thought of anyone throwing something like this away.

“We agreednot to steal the presents,” Babet reminds him.

Claquesousglances at him from behind his fringe and clears his throat. Instead of sayinganything he looks back at the coat and strokes the worn fabric. “Thanks,” hemumbles.

Montparnasseleans over to inspect the embroidery and Claquesous holds it out to him. It’sbeautiful and it looks about Claquesous’ size too. He’s going to look like adream in it. Or rather a nightmare, something escaped from another era,timeworn and everything.

“Won’t beeasy to find a matching waistcoat,” Montparnasse muses.

Babet andGueulemer share a grin.

“No…”Claquesous says thoughtfully, but then he looks up and smirks. “Open yourpresent.”

Montparnassetakes the last present from the basket. He knows what’s in it before he haseven started to unwrap it. “You got me a book?” he says, frowning.

There is astubborn silence in the room.

He tearsoff the paper. It is a book. An old, green book with gold letters on the coverthat read: Practical Guide to Tailoring. He hums and opens it to reveal a lotof fine print and a lot of detailed drawings. Montparnasse bites his lip. He’s neverreally taken his sewing this seriously. Not like Claquesous and his costumes.Montparnasse just fixes stuff that doesn’t look right. He looks up intoClaquesous’ smug face. This was definitely his doing.

“Completelyselfless gift, yeah?” he smirks.

“Completely,”Claquesous says. “Merry Christmas.”

“MerryChristmas,” Gueulemer booms. “Now someone make that damn hot chocolate or I’mmaking coffee.”

Babet letsout a scoffing laugh and lets himself slide off the chair, but Montparnassegets up before him. He’s not letting Babet loose in his kitchen. “I can makeyou both,” he says, carefully laying the book aside and giving a very quick,but appreciative glance to Claquesous who is stroking his new coat like he’spetting an animal.

“God blessus every one,” Gueulemer yawns sarcastically and he lets himself slump back onto hismakeshift bed, rolling onto his side to look at the little anvil again.

Montparnasselooks back at his friends before disappearing into the kitchen and feels somethingwarm bubbling in his chest. He’s actually of looking forward to the rest of today.

#patron-minette #montparnasse #claquesous #gueulemer #babet #patron minette #this was waaaay longer but i cut the rest #because i need to learn how to chill #hope you like it adrian #i sure as hell did #made me feel better #thank you #feel free to yell patron-minette at me any time #i love these guys #this is when montparnasse is 19 #babet and sous 20 #gueul 24 #they've been living together a little less than a year #sunfreckle's stories #modern means less miserable #edit: changed it a little because I added the prequels

[anavoliselenu]

Confessed man chapter 17

‘I haven’t had the chance to tell him you’re here yet.’ I explain, almost apologetically. ‘As soon as he woke, the doctors were on him and now a friend is in there.’

‘Can you do that?’ Beatrice breaks away from Amalie and retrieves a tissue from under the cuff of her cardigan. ‘Can you tell him we’re here?’

‘Of course, but…’

Amalie cuts me off. ‘We don’t want him upset, so don’t push it.’

‘You’ll try, though.’ Beatrice clasps my hands pleadingly. ‘Please, try hard for me, Selena.’

‘I will.’ I feel the pressure, but I also feel the desperation that’s seeping from every pore of this lady. I’m the key to her re-connecting with her son. She knows it, Amalie knows it, and I know it.

We all turn when the door to Justin’s room opens and Sarah steps out. She’s been crying, and as she lifts her hand to wipe her eyes, the sleeve of her jacket rides up and I see a bandage around her wrist. But I’m distracted from this when I feel the hackles on Justin’s mother rise.

Sarah’s tear drenched eyes widen in shock. ‘Beatrice?’ she splutters, shutting the door.

‘What the hell are you doing here, you vindictive bitch!’ Justin’s mother snipes coldly. It doesn’t take any more words to confirm that Beatrice knows about Sarah and Justin’s encounter and the events that followed—the events that took her granddaughter.

‘Mother!’ Amalie yells, shocked.

I’m shocked. Sarah is definitely shocked, and then the door to Justin’s room swings open and he’s standing there, shocked. I gasp and rush over to him, noting he’s wrapped in a thin sheet at the waist and has practically dragged his drip and catheter frame with him. ‘Justin, for God’s sake!’

‘Mum?’ he looks so confused and a little unsteady.

Justin’s mother’s screwed up face of hatred softens immediately at the sight of her son looking so pale. ‘Oh Justin, you stupid man. Get back in bed now!’

I’m even more shocked now. I look up and find nothing but puzzlement on his bearded, dazed face, and then I turn, seeing Beatrice clearly fighting her motherly instinct to put him back in bed herself. I’m not sure what to make of it. Is she even entitled to demand such a thing?

This is an incredibly bizarre situation, but as I watch Sarah skulk off quietly and see Amalie and Beatrice scanning Justin’s tall frame worriedly, I quickly snap back into action. ‘Give me five minutes, Beatrice.’ I say, pushing Justin back into the room and shutting the door behind me. ‘What do you think you’re playing at? Get in bed!’

His mouth falls open to yell at me, but soon snaps shut again when he starts to sway.

‘Oh shit!’ I’ll never catch him. ‘Shit, shit, shit!’ I drop my bag and frantically guide him back to the bed, but I can do nothing more than let him collapse in a heap of hard muscle. ‘You’re an idiot, Ward.’ I’m so mad with him. ‘Why can’t you do what you’re bloody told?’ I sort his drip and catheter out before heaving his heavy legs into place and re-covering him with the sheet.

‘I feel pissed.’ he slurs, lifting his arm and draping his it across his head.

‘You got up too quickly.’

‘What are they doing here, Selena?’ he asks quietly. ‘I don’t want to see them.’

My shoulders droop spectacularly, but I quickly check his dressing before sitting on his bed and pulling his arm away from his hiding face. He looks at me with beseeching eyes. It kills me, but I’m going to try anyway.

‘You have me, and I’m all you need, I know that; but this is a chance to put everything in your life right. Just give them a few minutes. I’m here forever, no matter what, but I can’t let you pass up an opportunity to find peace in this element of your life, Justin.’

‘I don’t want anything to ruin what I have.’ he grates the words through his clenched teeth, squeezing his eyes shut.

‘Listen to me.’ I grab his cheek and wiggle it, prompting him to open his eyes. ‘After everything we have been through, do you really think there is anything else that could possibly fracture what we have?’ If that is his only concern, then I’m more determined to repair this. ‘It’ll be done on your terms. We’ll take it slow, and they will accept it.’

‘I only need you.’ he murmurs bitterly, slipping his hand under his t-shirt and finding my tummy. ‘Just you and our babies.’

I sigh, placing my hand over his. ‘You don’t have to want something to need it, Justin. We’re having twins. I know we have each other, but we’ll need our families, too. And I’d like our children to have two sets of grandparents. We’re not normal, but we should make our children’s lives as normal as possible. It won’t change us or what we have together.’

I can see him grasping my logic, his pale face mulling over my statement until he nods lightly and gingerly pulls me down, engulfing me with his arms. I relax into him, thankful that he will at least attempt to do this. I won’t hold my breath for an instant remedy or reunion, but it’s a start. ‘Tell me you love me.’ he says into my hair.

‘I love you.’

‘Tell me you need me.’

‘I need you.’

‘Okay.’ He releases me. ‘Plump my pillow, wife. I need to be comfy for this.’

I ignore his insolence and make him comfy. ‘I’m going to give you some privacy.’ I tell him, standing and making my way to the door.

‘You’re not staying?’ he blurts, his green eyes bulging in panic.

‘No. I don’t need to. You’ll be fine.’ It takes every effort not to sit and hold his hand through this, but he needs to do this for himself. I might have played the babies card, but my reasons are far deeper than the need to have more family around us. Justin needs to heal physically and mentally. Forgiving his parents will play a massive role in that.

I open the door and smile at Beatrice and Amalie, who have since been joined by Henry. I say nothing. I leave the door open for them and lose myself for a time while I let a lost family find themselves again.

Chapter 35

I’m in Paradise.

After Justin got the all clear from the doctors a full week after he woke, we left the hospital, me leading him. He refused the wheelchair that was delivered to his room, which I wasn’t surprised about at all. My big, strapping man had been laid up for three weeks, dependant on others to care for him, so I couldn’t deny him the dignity of walking out of the hospital, even if it took us an hour. We returned to Lusso, where Cathy fussed and flapped around like a mother hen, ensuring cupboards were full, washing was done and the whole place looked like it did on the launch night before it had been lived in. Then I gave her a few weeks off. We needed privacy in our home. I needed to look after Justin. I needed to nurse him back to the man who I know and love.

The first week was a washout. Streams of constant visitors plagued the penthouse, including Justin’s parents. It’s still odd and a little strained, but I can see a light in my husband’s eyes that I never have before. It’s different to the sparkle of lust or the deepening in anger. This is peace.

The police paid numerous visits during that first week. It was probably too soon, but Justin insisted on getting the chore out of the way so we could resume our normal. Patrick stopped by with my work colleagues, expressing his sincere apologies for putting me in such an awful situation, but he wasn’t to know, and neither was poor Sal. She’s well and truly back to dreary, plaid skirt wearing Sal, but she seemed happy enough. Mikael withdrew from the deal to buy Rococo Union and Patrick offered me my job back, but I politely declined and Justin didn’t try to convince me otherwise. I can’t return to work, and I really don’t want to.

For the following three weeks after that first hectic one, there was constant contact, just how he likes it. We bathed every morning and indulged in hours of tub-talk. I re-dressed his wound, he rubbed Bio Oil into my tummy. I cooked breakfast, he fed it to us, both naked. He read his pregnancy manual out loud, I listened intently. He chose to skim past the parts that would put his ridiculous worries to rest, and I chose to snatch the book from his hand and read those parts aloud to him. He would scowl, I would grin. He wanted lots of sex, but I didn’t want to hurt him, which is ironic after the constant battle we’ve had in this aspect of our relationship since I’ve been pregnant. It’s been hard. My raging hormones are not improving.

Now, four weeks later, I’m spread eagled on the bed in the main bedroom of Paradise, I’m n**ed and I’m basking at the highest level of Central Justin Cloud Nine.

‘Comfy?’

My head lifts so my eyes can locate the whereabouts of my Lord, finding him standing in the doorway of the bathroom, naked, just how I like him. ‘No, because you are not in here with me.’ I pat the mattress, and he blasts me with his smile—my smile. He doesn’t lie next to me, though. He spreads my legs and crawls up between my thighs, resting his freshly shaved chin on my growing tummy and looking up at me with those glorious greens.

‘Good morning, my beautiful girl.’

‘Good morning.’ My fingers seek out his wet hair, and I sink further into the bed on a contented sigh. ‘What are we doing today?’

‘I have it all planned out.’ he declares, nibbling on my midriff. ‘You will do what you’re told.’

‘Does it involve cards?’ I enquire casually, but far too hopefully. I’ll ensure that I lose this time, so there will be no need for the transfer of power.

‘No,’

I’m disappointed. ‘Does it involve twilight sleepy sex?’

I feel him grin around the flesh that he’s nibbling on. ‘Maybe later.’

‘Then I’ll do whatever you want.’ I advise him, my thighs clenching at the thought of another dreamy session in the sand, and my mind wishing the day away so later gets here faster.

‘Your day starts right now, Mrs Ward.’ He plants a set a loud kisses around my bellybutton before sitting up and straddling me. He reaches over to the bedside cabinet and retrieves an envelope. ‘Here.’

‘What’s this?’ I ask on a frown, gingerly taking it from him. I don’t like surprises from this man.

‘Just open it.’ he pushes impatiently, then commences nibbling that lip. My nerves increase when I see cogs starting to fly, too.

I’m not sure that I want to open it, but curiosity is drowning my apprehension, so I slowly pull it open, flicking eyes back and forth between Justin and the envelope. Slowly pulling out the piece of paper, I unfold and read the first line.

Haskett and Sandler property management.

That means nothing to me. I read on, but I can’t make head nor tail of the legal lingo. I can make sense of the obscene amount of numbers that follow the pound sign halfway down the page, though.

‘You’ve bought another house?’ I blurt, looking over the paper at him. I say house but judging by the figure, which I now notice has the words ‘For the sum of’ written next to it, it could be a palace… or maybe even a castle.

‘No, I’ve sold The Manor.’ The lip biting has just sprung into the realms of cannibalism. He’s chomping furiously as he gages my reaction to that statement.

‘You’ve what?’ I’m trying to sit up, thinking maybe being upright might lessen the shock, but I won’t find out because I’m being pushed back down to the bed.

‘I’ve sold The Manor.’ He lays down over me and clasps the sides of my face in his bag palms.

‘I heard you. Why?’ I don’t understand. I planted the seed, I know, but I never expected him to take a bit of notice.

He smiles down at me and lowers his lips to mine, teasingly. I’m desperate to know what has instigated this, but I’m also desperate, as always, for his magic mouth. I drop the document and fall straight into the rhythm he’s set, finding his big shoulders and feeling my way up to his jaw. I’m distracted for now, but he won’t get away without an explanation on this. The Manor is all he knows, even if he’s not utilising the facilities anymore.

‘Hmmm, you taste heavenly, lady.’ He bites my bottom lip, pulling back so it drags through his teeth lightly.

‘Why?’ I press, keeping him close to me and wrapping my thighs around his narrow hips. I’m not letting go until he spills.

He gazes at me thoughtfully for a few moments before drawing breath. ‘You know when you’re a kid? At primary school, I mean.’

‘Yeah,’ I say slowly, my brow scrunched up, my eyes undoubtedly inquisitive.

‘Well…’ he sighs. ‘What the hell would I do if the babies asked me to go in for one of those open days these schools have?’

‘Open day?’

‘You know, when daddies stand up and tell their kid’s class mates that they’re a fireman or a copper.’

I squeeze my lips together, desperate not to laugh at him when it’s clearly a worry.

‘What would I say?’ he asks seriously.

‘You’d tell them you’re The Sex Lord of The Manor.’ It’s no good. I’m laughing. God love this man. My fast disappearing hipbone is grasped and my laughter increases. ‘Stop!’

‘Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, lady.’

‘Please stop!’

I’m released and recovering from my bout of hysteria when I catch his concerned expression. He really is worried. ‘You would tell them that you own a hotel, just like we’d tell the babies.’ I can’t believe I’m trying to give him an out. This, obviously, has always been a concern, but I never pushed it because I know what that big country estate means to him.

He rolls onto his back, and I quickly resume position and sit myself on him. He grasps the tops of my thighs and looks up at me. ‘I don’t want it anymore.’ He’s really adamant.

‘But it was Carmichael’s baby. You wouldn’t sell it when your mum and dad demanded it, so why now?’

‘Because I have you three.’

‘You’ll always have us three, anyway.’ He’s not making sense.

‘I want you three and nothing to complicate that. I don’t want to lie to our babies about my job. I would never allow them to spend any time there, which means my time with you and the babies would be limited. The Manor is an obstruction. I don’t want any obstructions. I have a history, baby, and The Manor should be part of it.’

I feel untold relief and the smile invading my face is proof of that. ‘So I get you all day every day?’

He shrugs sheepishly. ‘If you’ll have me.’

I dive on him, smothering him all over his wonderfully handsome face. But I’m quickly sitting up again when I think of something. ‘What about John and Mario? And Sarah? What about Sarah?’ I have no loyalty to the woman, despite my compassion, but I don’t want her attempting suicide again. However, John and Mario I love.

‘I’ve spoken to them. Sarah’s taking up an opportunity is the US and John and Mario are more than ready for retirement.’

‘Oh,’ I say acceptingly, but I suspect they’ve all picked up a tidy little sum for their services to The Manor, no matter what capacity in which they served. ‘And will the members re-new under the new owners?’

He laughs. ‘Yes, if they like playing golf.’

‘Golf?’

‘The grounds are being converted into an eighteen hole golf course.’

‘Wow. What about the sports facilities?’ I ask.

‘They’re all staying. It’ll be pretty impressive. Not much different to my set up, except the private suites really will be hotel rooms and the communal room will serve as a conference room for businesses.’

I can imagine it will be impressive. ‘So that’s it, then?’

‘That’s it. Now, I need to get you ready for the rest of your day.’ He goes to sit up, but I pin him back down.

‘I need to freshen up my mark.’ I point to his pec, where my perfect circle has nearly disappeared, then I look down at my own barely visible bruise. ‘And you need to work on mine, too.’

‘We’ll do it later, baby.’ I’m lifted and placed on my feet. ‘Go take a shower.’ He slaps my bum, sending me on my way. I wander off without complaint and with a stupid smile on my face. No Manor, no Sarah, and Justin all to myself… and the babies.

* * *

After soaking myself under the lovely hot water and shaving everywhere, I dry my hair roughly and start rummaging through the wardrobe for something to wear.

‘I’ve picked something,’ he says from behind me, and I turn to see him wearing a pair of loose swimming shorts, holding up a short lace sundress.

‘It’s a bit short, isn’t it?’ I observe, running my eyes up and down the delicate piece of clothing, with tiny straps and a floaty skirt.

‘I’ll make an exception.’ he shrugs and unzips it before holding it at my feet. By that little statement, I assume we’re not going anywhere public. I watch him kneel for me to step into the dress, and he secures me before standing back and clasping his chin in his hand thoughtfully. ‘Cute.’ He nods in approval and takes my hand, leading me to the double doors that lead to the veranda.

‘I need shoes.’

‘We’re paddling.’ He dismisses my concern and leads on, walking around the veranda and over the grass until we’re at the gate that leads down to the beach. ‘Can we paddle on our backs?’ I ask cheekily, and he stops, looking down at me with amused eyes.

‘Pregnancy does wonderful things to you, Mrs Ward.’

I know my forehead has just wrinkled. ‘I always want you this much.’

‘I know you do. You’re missing something.’ he says, producing a calla lily from behind his back and tucking it behind my ear. ‘Much better.’

I reach up and feel the fresh flower, smiling up at him a little bemused, but far too contented to enquire further. He winks, kisses my cheek and leads on, turning when we get to the sleepers to ensure I take them carefully. ‘Watch that piece of splintered wood.’ he says, pointing to a jagged edge on one of the sleepers. ‘Careful,’

‘You should have left me put some shoes on, then.’ I grumble, missing that step and leaping down to the next.’

‘Selena, no jumping.’ he huffs. ‘You’ll shake the babies up.’

‘Oh, shut up!’ I laugh, jumping my way down the rest of the steps until my feet are warm and sinking into the golden sand. ‘Come on!’ I start to run down to the shore, but as soon as my head lifts from my feet to look where I’m going, I stop dead in my tracks.

They are all looking at me. Every single one of them. My eyes run down the line of people, noting everyone I know, including Justin’s family. I gasp, a little delayed, and swing round, finding Justin towering over me, looking down on a smile.

‘What are they doing here?’ I ask.

‘They’re here to witness me marrying you.’

‘But we’re already married.’ I remind him. ‘We are, aren’t we?’ I’m suddenly considering the possibility of him announcing that we’re not married at all, that The Manor, in fact, had no licence.

‘Yes, we are. But my mum and dad missed our day, and we should have done it this way before.’ He takes my hand and tugs my reluctant body gently, until I follow his lead down to the shoreline, where both of our family and friends are waiting, all smiling, all relaxed. They part, letting Justin pull me through, and I look at each of them in turn, but all I get are happy faces, my brother smiling broadest of all. I can do no more than shrug a little, demonstrating my surprise. It’s only now that I register Justin’s shorts are white and so is my sundress. We’re getting married again?

I’m positioned in the wet sand with the gentle waves lapping at my feet, and then we’re greeted by a man who looks as relaxed in his attire as Justin and me and all of our guests. I’m quiet and accepting as he welcomes us and joins our hands in the space between our close bodies. I’ve been caught off guard, but I accept what is happening and repeat the words being asked of me as I look up into Justin’s addictive eyes and smile around each and every word that I say to him. I re-affirm everything. I renew my promise to love, honour and obey him and I reach up to kiss him gently on his luscious lips when I’m done. I’m on auto-pilot, just doing what is asked of me, but not because I don’t know what else to do, but simply because it’s what I’m supposed to do. Despite everything, I entrust myself to this man. He leads the way and I follow. Because I know it’s where I belong.

When it’s his turn to speak, the registrar steps away and Justin moves in closer, lifting both of my hands with his and resting his lips on them, leaving them lingering for the longest time. ‘I love you.’ he whispers, stroking his thumbs where his lips have just left. ‘An eternity with you wouldn’t be enough, Selena. From the moment my eyes fell on you in my office, I knew things would change for me. I plan on devoting every second of my life to worshipping you, adoring you and indulging in you, and I plan on making up for empty years without you. I’m taking you to Paradise, baby.’ He stoops and clasps me under my bum and lifts me high so it’s now him looking up at me. ‘Are you ready?’

‘Yes. Take me.’ I demand, running my hands into his hair and giving it a yank.

‘Oh, I took you long ago, Mrs Ward. But right now is where it really begins.’ He kisses me hard. ‘No more digging to get beneath me. You know everything there so to know. And no more confessions because I have nothing left to tell.’

‘I think you have.’ I whisper, nuzzling into his neck and taking a hit of him in all of his fresh water, minty loveliness.

‘I do?’ he asks, carrying me into the glimmering coolness of the Med.

‘You do. Tell me you love me.’

He pulls back, green eyes sparkling, my smile gracing his perfect mouth and his dirty blonde hair a glorious, dishevelled mess with my hands tugging demandingly at it. ‘I love you so f**king much, baby.’

I smile, dropping my head back and closing my eyes as he starts spinning us in circles, the sun warming my face and his body close to mine, warming everywhere else.

‘I KNOW!’ I scream, laughing before we’re under the water and homing straight in on each other’s lips. I cling on to him like my life depends on it because it absolutely does.

* * *

This is it. This is us. This will be our normal forever and ever, no more shocking discoveries and no more confessions. His two perfect mars on his insanely perfect stomach are a constant reminder of our journey together, but the relentless gleam of happiness in his shockingly green eyes is a continuous reminder that I still have this man.

And I always will.

The End.

Epilogue

Fuck me, how long have I got to endure my home being bombarded and my wife and babies being hogged? Too f**king long, that’s how long. Hours, probably. I should snatch their gifts and throw them a piece of cake before shutting the door in their face. I smile on the inside, picturing Elizabeth’s face if I did exactly that. This is going to be painful, and to rub salt into my moody wounds, we have school friends this year, too. And their mothers—lots of women, who have taken Selena up on her offer to stay, if they would like to. And, of course, they would like to.

My stroppy feet are pounding down the staircase of our lovely little Manor, as I button up my shirt and chew my lip, thinking of any excuse to avoid this. I come up with nothing. My babies are five years old today, and not even daddy’s amazing negotiation tactics will convince them that a party is a bad idea—not now they have their own mind. I’ve tried for the last four years and fallen flat on my face, but only because my beautiful wife always intervened on their behalf. I know this year, though, if I got them alone, I could break them down with something. Skiing again, perhaps?

Hitting the bottom of the stairs, I take a quick glimpse in the mirror and smile. I get better looking every day. I’ve still got it, and she still can’t resist me. Life is f**king good.

‘Daddy!’

I spin around, and my hard muscles liquefy as I watch my baby boy running down the stairs, his dark blonde hair a tousled mess around his handsome little face. ‘Hey, birthday boy.’ His greens sparkle as he launches himself at me, the good looking little f**ker. ‘Whoa!’ I laugh as he slams into me, crawling up my body.

‘Guess what?’ he asks me, eyes wide with excitement.

‘What?’ I’m not feigning interest. I really am curious.

‘Nana Lizabeth said we can sleep at her house tonight. She’s taking us to the zoo tomorrow!’

I try to conceal my scowl and match his excitement. ‘Nana Lizabeth lives too far away, and Daddy likes taking you to the zoo.’ I say, throwing him up onto my shoulders and turning back towards the mirror. ‘See how handsome we are?’

‘I know.’ he replies flippantly, making me smile. ‘Nana and pappy live ten minutes away. I timed it on mummy’s phone.’

I’m swiftly reminded that my dear mother-in-law does, in fact, live ten minutes away. The beauty of Newquay couldn’t keep Elizabeth and Joseph away from their grandchildren—or my babies, more to the point. ‘Hey, I was thinking,’ I go for subject change, or distraction tactics—whichever. ‘We should go skiing again.’ I’m speaking in a stupidly over enthusiastic voice, hoping to snare him.

‘We already are.’ His little hands rest on my forehead, covering the frown that’s just jumped into place.

‘We are?’

‘Yes, mummy said so, and she said not to listen to you if you try to put us off our party.’

My shoulders sag, and I make a mental note to deliver on one retribution f**k, the conniving little temptress. ‘Mummy needs daddy’s money to do that.’ I’m shameless.

‘Why don’t you want us to have a party, daddy?’ His little forehead matches mine in the frown department, and I instantly feel like a bag of shit.

‘I do, mate. I just don’t like sharing you.’ I admit.

‘You can play, too.’ He reaches down and kisses my rough cheek. ‘Mummy will be pleased.’

‘Why will she?’ I know why she’ll be pleased. She’s intercepted me. Make that two retribution f**ks—one for her interception and one for her smugness.

‘Because you’ve not shaved.’ He rubs his palm up and down a few times, and I smile at my handsome little man before striding towards the kitchen.

I halt at the doorway and spend a few moments drinking in the sight of my angel, frantically stirring a big mixing bowl of some brown shit, the curve of her perfect arse holding me rapt. Fucking perfect. My little man doesn’t pester me to push onwards. He just sits happily on my shoulders, waiting for his spellbound father to snap back into action. He’s used to me daydreaming, especially when his mother is around. I have no f**king clue what I’ve done to deserve this woman and these beautiful kids, but I won’t be arguing with the destiny Gods.

‘Shit!’ she curses as a blob of chocolate flies up and lands on her olive cheek.

‘Mummy! Watch your mouth!’

She swigs around, armed with a wooden spoon lathered in chocolate and scowls at my grinning face before turning her big brown orbs onto our son. ‘I’m sorry, Jacob.’

My grin widens and her scowl deepens. I’m so smug, and I’ll pay for it later. She can’t play the defiant little temptress with our babies around, and I love it. ‘What you making, baby?’ I ask, lifting Jacob from my shoulders and placing him on a stool. I hand him my phone to play with before heading to the fridge and collecting a jar of Sun-Pat.

‘Peanut butter cups.’ She’s all flustered, but I’m not offering my help. She knows I’m shit at cooking, and I’m not making this easier. Next year, I’m predicting skiing.

I’m behind her, looking down into the bowl, and I’m thinking that I might stick to jars. God bless her, she’s tried a million times, but she’ll never match my mum’s famous peanut butter cups. ‘How many jars of my peanut butter have you wasted on that?’ I ask, pushing myself into her back and not missing the opportunity to feel her neck out with my lips. She smells too good.

‘Two,’ She pushes the bowl away. ‘I want Cathy back.’

I laugh and spin her around, pushing her into the worktop, the wooden spoon waving in my face. I’m firming up, damn it. I can’t help it. I lean in, as I watch her watching me, and lick her cheek clean.

‘Don’t start something you can’t finish, Ward.’ she whispers on a husky, alluring voice. I’m solid now.

Fucking hell!

She pushes me away on a knowing grin. ‘I need to finish. Guests will be arriving.’ She’s smug again, earning herself a third retribution f**k. She knows what she’s doing—she knows there will be no countdowns or trampling with the babies around.

Or baby.

‘Where’s Maddie?’ I discreetly adjust my groin area before facing my baby boy, who’s oblivious to the goings on around him. It’s not unusual to see daddy loving mummy. I’ve had to seriously work on my control, though.

He doesn’t look up from my phone, but I can see his little face screw up in disgust. ‘She’s putting on her party dress. It’s all frilly. Nana bought it.’

My eyes roll, knowing that I’m going to find my baby girl looking like candyfloss has exploded all over her. ‘Why does your mother think my daughter needs to look like she’s been attacked with the pink stick?’ I sit myself next to Jacob and put the jar between us so he can help himself. And he does. His chubby little finger dives right in and scoops out the biggest dollop. My chest swells with pride, and I exhale around my own finger, looking back up to Selena for an answer.

Her eyebrows are high as she shakes her head at Jacob on a fond smile, but then her eyes are on me and she’s not smiling anymore. What did I do? ‘Don’t wind her up, Justin.’

‘I won’t!’ I laugh. I bloody will, and I’ll enjoy every moment of it.

‘Nana calls you a menace.’ Jacob looks up at me, his finger still hanging from his mouth. ‘She said you always have been and always will be. She accepts it now.’ His little shoulders shrug.

A burst of laughter escapes and now Selena is laughing with me, her dreamy chocolate eyes sparkling, her succulent lips begging me to take them. Then she ditches the apron, revealing her tight, tidy little figure. I’m not laughing now. I’m panting and reaching under the table to try and bash myself down. It’s a constant f**king battle. ‘I like your dress.’ My eyes take a lazy jaunt down the length of her black fitted dress as I plan on how I’ll remove it later. I might be kind and let her wear it again, she really does look amazing in it, but by later, I know I won’t be in any fit state to take my time.

‘You like all of mummy’s dresses.’ Jacob pipes up tiredly, snapping my eyes from that body—the one that sends me insane with want.

‘I do.’ I agree, giving his messy mop of blonde a ruffle. ‘Speaking of dresses, I’m going to find your sister.’

‘Okay,’ he agrees, turning his attention back to my phone and re-dipping his finger.

I jump up and go in search of Maddie, taking the stairs two at a time and bursting into her pink infested room. ‘Where’s my birthday girl?’

‘Here!’ she squeals, appearing from her wendy house.

I nearly choke on thin air. ‘You are not wearing that, little lady!’

‘Yes, I am!’ She runs across the room when I start marching towards her. ‘Maddie!’ What the f**king hell? She’s five! Five f**king years old, and I’m already ripping hot pants and cropped t-shirts from her tiny body. Where the f**k is that frilly pink thing?

‘Mummy!’ she screams, as I catch her ankle on the bed. She can scream the f**king house down. She is NOT wearing that. ‘Mummy!’

‘Maddie, come here!’

‘No!’ She kicks me—the little sod kicks me and dashes out the room, leaving me a pathetic heap of stressed out daddy on her pink, fluffy bed. I’ve been outdone by a five year old little girl. But that little girl is the daughter of my beautiful wife. I’m f**ked.

I stand and straighten myself out before going in pursuit. ‘Don’t run down the stairs, Maddie!’ I yell, practically throwing myself down them after her. I watch her tiny little hot panted arse disappear into the kitchen as she searches for the back-up of her mother.

I skid to a halt and watch her scrambling up Selena’s body. ‘What’s going on?’ Selena asks, looking at me like I’ve lost my mind. I might have.

‘Look at her!’ I wave my hands at my baby girl like a deranged screwball. ‘Look!’

Selena places her on the floor and crouches down, pushing my baby’s chocolate waves over her little shoulders and pulling the hem of that ridiculous t-shirt down. She can pull it down all she f**king likes. It’s not staying on my baby’s body. ‘Maddie,’ Selena’s gone into pacifying mode, something, perhaps, I should have thought about before blurting the death words. I should have learnt by now; don’t tell Maddie no. It’s rule number f**king one. ‘Daddy thinks your t-shirt is a little small.’

‘I do.’ I cut in, just for clarification. ‘Way too small.’

My little lady flips me a scowl. ‘He’s being unreasonable.’

I gasp and point an accusing glare at Selena. She has the decency to look apologetic. ‘See what you’ve done?’

‘Daddy has the power!’ Jacob sings, halting any chance I had of scoring a win.

It’s Selena who’s gasping now. ‘You need to remember, Ward. These little ears hear everything.’

I do the sensible thing and shut the f**k up. My wife can’t hide her exasperation, and I don’t expect her to. I expect her to remove that pathetic excuse of a t-shirt from my baby girl’s tiny body.

‘He can’t dictate my wardrobe!’ Maddie fires across the kitchen, her chubby arms folding across her little chest. I look at my defiant temptress, noting she’s failing to hide that f**king beautiful grin.

Fucking hell! My hands fly to my hair and yank. I’ll have none of the f**king stuff left soon, especially when Selena gets her hands on it. I momentarily forget my turmoil and smile, mentally feeling her tugging at it while I slam into that beautiful body. But I’m soon back to reality with my little lady drilling displeased brown eyes into me.

I watch as Selena reasons with her before grasping her little shoulders and turning her towards me. ‘Maddie is ready to compromise.’ Selena tilts her head with a humour her look.

It doesn’t make me feel any better. I’ve humoured Maddie before, and it resulted in me carting her out of Waitrose over my shoulder while she screamed the place down and kicked me to death. I look back to Selena with pleading eyes, pouting like an idiot, but she just shakes her head and gently urges my wilful little lady towards me.

She’s smiling at me now, her arms reaching up for me to take her. She melts my f**king heart but Jesus Christ, what the hell am I facing in the years to come? I’ll be bald or maybe even dead. Or I could be in prison because if any little f**ker lays his hands on her, I’ll rip their f**king heart out. I scoop her up and leave Selena to help my easy going boy put his converse on.

‘Dad, you need to calm down. You’ll give yourself a heart attack.’ She snuggles into my neck and my raging, crazy love for my defiant little lady is fully restored. But my wife gets her forth retribution f**k of the day.

‘It’s daddy. And you need to stop listening to your mother.’ I take the stairs fast and burst into her room, throwing her on the bed. My heart bursts, listening to her squeal in delight before she jumps straight up and starts bouncing up and down, her long, chocolate locks flying all over the place. ‘Right,’ I rub my hands together in an attempt to make what I’m about to suggest exciting. Where will I find her jeans and jumpers? I pull her pink wardrobe doors open and start skimming through the rails, immediately laying my hands on something full and frilly. I pull it out and hold the hideous thing up. She mirrors my look of disgust. ‘Your nana needs to stop buying you dresses.’

‘I know.’ She sits down and crosses her legs. ‘Will you trample her today, dad?’

‘Daddy,’ I retort, shoving the dress on the top shelf, out of sight. ‘I might do.’

‘It’s funny.’ she giggles.

‘I know.’ I pull out a cute little sailor dress. There are no sleeves, but I’ll find a cardigan. ‘How about this?’

‘No, dad.’

‘Daddy. What about this?’ I present her with a lemon, shin length brocade thing, but she shakes her defiant little head. ‘Maddie,’ I sigh. ‘You are not wearing that.’ God give me f**king strength quick before I wring her stubborn little neck.

‘I’ll wear tights.’ She jumps up and pulls the draw of her pink chest open. ‘These ones.’ she says, holding up some candy striped things.

I tilt my head on an agreeable nod. I can work with that. ‘What about the t-shirt?’

She looks down and strokes her little belly. ‘I like this one.’

‘Then how about we buy it in a bigger size?’ I’m compromising. I pull down a long sleeved, mint green t-shirt covered in love hearts and hold it up, all keen and smiley. ‘I love this one. Make daddy happy.’ I’m f**king pouting like a sad, desperate twat, and I can tell her five year old mind thinks I’m a twat, too.

‘Okay,’ she sighs heavily. This is stupid. She’s the one humouring me.

‘Good girl,’ I pick her up and stand her on the bed. ‘Lift.’ She throws her arms in the air and lets me rid her torso of the half t-shirt before replacing it with the green one that I love so much, then I get her out of the shorts and cover her little legs with the delightful candy striped tights before replacing the little denim things. ‘Perfect.’ I stand back and nod my approval, then collect her silver converse hi-tops from the wardrobe. ‘These?’ I don’t know why I’m asking, she refuses to wear anything else.

‘Yep.’ She falls to her cute little butt and holds her foot up for me to slip them on. ‘Daddy?’

I tense from head to toe at the sound of the name I’m constantly demanding she call me. She wants something. ‘Maddie,’ I reply slowly, cautiously.

‘I’d like a little sister.’

I nearly fall on my arse with laughter. Another girl? Fuck me, you’d have to drug me and string me up to extract my seed. Not a f**king chance, no way in hell, never, no way.

‘What’s so funny?’ She looks at my laughing face, all puzzled.

‘Me and mummy are happy with just you two.’ I pacify her, quickly getting the other shoe on, eager to escape this room and the conversation.

‘Mummy wants another baby.’ she informs me, and my shocked eyes fly up to serious chocolate ones. Selena wants another baby? But she hated pregnancy. I loved it. She hated it. I loved everything about it, except the birth. She really got her revenge during that hellish twenty four hours. I was stabbed with nails, yelled at constantly and threatened with divorce on numerous occasions. And her mouth was like a f**king sewer. But what killed me the most was seeing her in so much pain and being unable to stop it. I could do f**k all about it, and I never plan on putting her through that again.

‘We just need you two.’ I affirm, lifting her from the bed and placing her on her tiny, silver coated feet.

‘I know.’ She runs off laughing. ‘Mum said your eyes would bug and they did!’

I actually laugh, but not because it’s funny. It’s not. It’s because I’m so f**king relieved. I could never refuse Selena if she did want another baby, not after my f**ked up, creative way of getting us our adorable carbon copies of each other. I smile, a full on smile, the one I save only for my babies. I’m so glad I hid those pills.

* * *

It really is the longest afternoon of my f**king life. Dozens of kids run around screaming, and their mother’s pretend to be watching their off-spring, but I’m under constant surveillance by the desperate bunch of bored housewives. Maybe I should ditch the personal training and invest some time in advising the husbands of these women how to please them - lessons in various degrees of f**king, perhaps. I’m nodding thoughtfully to myself when my mum appears in my line of sight. She’s got that look, and I know I’m about to be lectured.

‘Son, take it easy.’ She eyes up the bottle of Bud in my hand, prompting me to take a swig.

I walk over to her and tuck her anxious body into my side. ‘Mother, stop your fussing.’ I start leading her over to the decking, where my father, Amalie and Doctor David are all sitting, chatting happily. My babies couldn’t keep my parents away, either.

‘I just…’ she stammers over her words, placing her wrinkled palm on my stomach and rubbing lightly. ‘I just worry, that’s all.’

I know she does, but she has no need to. I can enjoy a few beers, just like the rest of them, and I can do it in a relaxed atmosphere with my family. I still don’t touch the vodka, though. ‘Well, I said you shouldn’t, so you won’t. End of.’ I encourage her to take a seat next to my father. ‘Do you want a beer, Dad?’

He looks up at me on a smile. ‘No, son. I promised Jacob a few bounces on that inflatable thing.’ He points across the lawns and I turn, seeing dozens of kids, pumped up on E-numbers, jumping and screaming on the bouncy castle.

‘Good luck!’ David laughs, resting his hand on his pregnant wife’s bulging belly. I smile fondly and watch my dad slowly make his way over to Jacob, who’s frantically waving for his granddad. And then I spot Elizabeth knelt in front of Maddie, tying her locks in f**king bunches.

‘Leave her alone, Mum!’ I shout across the garden, earning myself a filthy look from Elizabeth and a giggle from my little lady.

‘Trample, Daddy!’ Maddie shrieks, batting her nana’s hand away from her hair and running off to reclaim her tree house.

I’m grinning as I watch Selena’s long suffering mother pull herself to her feet. I can’t help it. She turns a frighteningly dirty look on me, making me grin further. Nothing gives me greater pleasure than rubbing her up the wrong way, but she doesn’t do a bad job of returning the favour, so I’m not going to beat myself up about it. I’ll just keep enjoying it.

‘Why did your daughter have to be like you?’ she yells across to me.

I nearly spit my beer out. ‘Me?’

‘Yes, you! Challenging!’

I scoff. She has to be joking. ‘I think you’ll find that my little lady is the prodigy of your daughter. Defiant!’

She huffs and puffs, straightening out her blouse before heading towards the kitchen to help Selena. Challenging? The stupid woman doesn’t know what she’s f**king talking about.

Leaving my mum with Amalie and David, I stroll over to our friends, who have all, unsurprisingly, taken up residence by the bar.

‘My man!’ Sam slaps my back and John nods as I dip so Kate can kiss my cheek.

‘Everyone good?’ I ask, collapsing into one of the chairs. ‘Where’s Drew?’

Kate laughs, pointing to the bouncy castle where Drew is scrambling through the masses of kids to find his daughter. ‘He’s making sure that Georgia returns to her mother with no cuts or bruises.’

‘Talking of kids,’ I point my bottle between Kate and Sam, and fail to maintain my seriousness when John’s body starts shaking, making the whole f**king house vibrate behind me with that deep, rolling laugh.

‘Justin,’ she breathes, exhausted by the constant question. ‘I’ve told you. There is not a maternal bone in this body.’

‘You manage my babies all right.’ I point out. She’s great with them.

‘Yes, that is because I get to hand the adorable creatures back to you when I’m fed up of them.’ She grins, and I match it, raising my bottle for her to chink.

‘I’m going to find my wife.’ I stand back up, keen to locate her and advise her on what exactly I plan on doing to her later.

Where is she?

I find her in the kitchen with Cathy, who has taken over food preparations. ‘There’s my boy!’ My old housekeeper sings, reaching up to kiss my cheek before exiting the kitchen with a tray full of tiny sandwiches, crusts cut off. ‘I’ll tell Clive to gather the children. Wonderful day!’

Watching her leave, I turn slowly until my eyes find what they’re looking for. She’s watching me closely, and those eyes are smoking out. She’ll never get enough of me.

‘I’ve missed you.’ I stalk forward, placing my bottle on the worktop as I pass. The tea towel is dropped from her hands, and she’s leaning back on the counter, willing me on, the little temptress.

I’m not gentle. I grab her and pin her to the wall, my mouth falling to the sweet flesh of her neck. ‘Justin, don’t.’ she exhales, arching herself into my chest.

‘Later, I’m ripping this dress off and I’m going to f**k you into next year.’

She moans, raising her bare knee and rubbing it lightly over my solid cock.

Control, control, control. Fucking control.

‘Deal.’ She wisely agrees, not that she has a choice. Wherever, whenever, she knows that. But not f**king now.

I growl my frustration and rip my body from hers. ‘I f**king love you.’

‘I know.’ She smiles, but it doesn’t make her eyes sparkle like usual.

‘What’s up, baby?’ I hunker down to get my face level with hers. ‘Tell me.’

She sighs and flicks me almost nervous eyes. ‘I wish Dan was here.’

It takes every ounce of my love for this woman, not to roll my eyes or growl in frustration. The bloke rubs me up the wrong way, I can’t help it. ‘Hey, you know he’s fine.’ I remind her. Fuck me, the prick’s cost me near on half a f**king million since I’ve known him, not that I will ever share that with Selena. She knows about the first bailout, but not the subsequent two. She’ll only get her knickers in a twist. He just can’t keep himself out of trouble. ‘It’s too hard for him,’ I say what I know will ease her. ‘With Kate and Sam, you know.’

‘I know.’ she agrees. ‘I’m being stupid.’

‘No, you’re not. Kiss me, wife.’ I need to distract her. She doesn’t waste any time. She’s on me immediately, moaning into my mouth and yanking at my hair. It always works. ‘You taste delicious.’ I’m growling. Fucking hell, I’m going to lose my f**king mind. I bite her lip and push my h*ps into the curves of her perfect body. ‘I’m getting rid of them.’ I declare. ‘Fucking imposters.’

She grins that f**king grin, hardening me further. ‘Stop being unreasonable.’ She laughs. ‘It’s your babies day.’

‘There is nothing unreasonable about me wanting you and my babies all to myself.’ I try to focus on cooling down my raging hard on, but with my body pushed up to hers, those eyes begging for me to claim her, it’s f**king impossible. ‘I can’t look at you.’ I mutter, stepping away and exiting the kitchen sharply before I bend her over the counter top.

I’m about to trample the party.

* * *

I virtually kick the last people out, which happen to be Selena’s parents and they’re taking my babies for the night, so I’m delicate-ish. I lean into the back of Joseph’s car, my heart pounding happily at the sound of my babies giggling when I take turns to smother them. ‘Be bad for nana.’ I wink, get another collective giggle and a scold from Elizabeth before shutting the door and sprinting back into the house on the prowl.

‘Selena?’ I shout, poking my head around the kitchen door. ‘Selena?’

‘You have to find me!’ She laughs, but I can’t figure out from which direction that silky voice came from.

Damn it, she’s playing f**king games. ‘Selena, don’t make me crazy mad.’ I warn. Where the f**k is she? ‘Selena?’ She’s silent now, and so copping it when I get my hands on that body. ‘For f**k sake!’ I yell, taking the stairs four at a time and crashing into our bedroom. ‘Selena?’

Nothing.

I stand in the middle of the bedroom contemplating my next move. It doesn’t take me long. ‘Three,’ I say it evenly and with optimum confidence. I am confident. She can’t resist me. ‘Two,’ I keep still, listening for any sign of movement. Nothing. ‘One,’ I say quietly, my c**k twitching wildly. I know she’s near.

‘Zero, baby.’ she whispers from behind me, her seductive voice pulling the corners of my lips up. I turn and nearly stagger back at the sight of her standing before me, in just a small pair of lace knickers. Fuck me, she gets more beautiful every day. Despite my urgency, I take my time absorbing her in all of her flawlessness, my eyes dragging over her firm, perfectly formed br**sts, over her ridiculously flat stomach and down those fabulous legs. I’m throbbing as I watch her slide her lace down her thighs, and I take my time unbuttoning my shirt and removing my jeans. She doesn’t seem to mind. Her big brown eyes are enthralled by my leanness. Nothing changes.

‘Do you like what you see?’ My voice is low and tempting, although this woman needs no tempting when it comes to me.

Her lips part and her tongue creeps along her full bottom lip. I’m rigid. Everywhere. ‘I’m used to it.’ she whispers, her eyes flicking across my chest.

I’m on her in a flash, my mouth attacking hers with brute force. She doesn’t stop me and she never will. Her legs wrap around my hips, her arms around my neck and she’s all mine again.

‘How loud do you think you’ll scream when I f**k you?’ I ask, ramming her up against the wall, breathing in her face.

‘I’d say quite loud?’ she pants, grappling at my hard back before shifting her hands into my hair and yanking, hard.

I smile, rear back and slam into her, my head falling back on a yell, my hearing being saturated by the sound of her screaming.

I don’t demand to see her eyes anymore. I don’t need to check she’s real.

As long as my heart keeps beating, I’ll know that she is.

End of.

riant-c8 6*�