itzpookiepooh

[itzpookiepooh]

Caleb story ran through my mind just like Sylus’ (WHICH I WILL FINISH) I’m excited but I also have one for Xavier and idk which will be the 1k special but I’m plotting

[itzpookiepooh]

Lwk scared chapter 2 of dragons gaze isn’t gonna hit like chapter 1 did ☹️ but at least we introducing dragon mama!

[itzpookiepooh]

I’m excited y’all don’t understand

here's a peek at Heavy while we're at it🫡

“Baby, sit up. We’re waiting for Dr. Zayne.” You tell her, caressing her arm which doesn’t help your situation. You’d appreciate it any other time but the last thing you need is to wake her up and have her groggy during the visit. “Sit up, Jade.”

“Dun wanna.” She complains, and you purse your lips together. You’re not going to force her to do anything she doesn’t want to do, which is why it’s a good thing you know how to work with her.

“Okay, Jade. But the moment we get home you’re taking a nap.” Your words sound like a threat in her ears. She quickly sits up, eyes wide open.

You won’t deny you’re nervous about the appointment, but you will deny the fact that you’re nervous about all the wrong reasons. It’s been a while since the last time you spoke, and you wonder how upset he is with you. The last time you saw him he found out Jade’s birthday but he didn’t say a thing. You were hoping to talk to him about it but you were too caught up in your own lives– Not to mention that Zayne actively avoids you. You can’t blame him for avoiding you even if you aren’t happy about it.

Jade kicks her feet in the air as the back of your hand presses against her forehead, checking for a fever. She seems fine, she just had a weird night last night. You cup her face, pinching her chubby cheeks before putting on a baby voice, “What’s wrong with my little baby? Why couldn’t you sleep last night?” She sticks out her bottom lip, upset that you’ve used the forbidden word. The B word. It doesn’t help that she’s fussy because of her rough night last night.

[itzpookiepooh]

Look at her glow have mercy!

them two know they love a nonverbal conversation 😭

[itzpookiepooh]

OMG 😭😭😭😭 I WHEEZED SO HARD but nah fr I felt like the chocolate factory episode of I love Lucy 😭

never even rubbed my clit as hard and fast as I rub my screen for this fuck ass mini game

[itzpookiepooh]

Hiii pookieeee i have a cute imagine idea for calebb

you know those "surprising my long distance bf" tiktoks? I was thinking about how it would unfold when mc did that to DAA caleb :>>

Home for You

You had your bags packed and ready to go for about a week now. Caleb told you over video how stressed the fleet was this week. It was one too many incidents they had to cover up and Caleb barely got a wink of sleep since. You decided to go see him. It’d brighten his whole day.

You knocked on the door while covering the peephole. He told you he just got home and was exhausted. What better time than now to come see him? You heard his footsteps near the front door and pause. He was obviously confused why he couldn’t see out of his peephole. His voice sounds through the door.

“Who is it?” He asked his voice filled with authority. You giggled silently to yourself before knocking once again but harder.

“This is the colonel’s home if—“ His threatening tone softened upon seeing you. He rushed to you picking you up off your feet, hugging you tightly.

“I didn’t know—what are you doing here?” He asked not letting you go.

“I wanted to surprise you since you had a hard week.” You explained making his heart melt.

“Aww pipsqueak.” He nearly cried right there as he held you tighter as if that were possible.

He carried you inside kicking the door closed. He missed you so much it took a crowbar to peel him out of your skin.

Last day of classes huzzah!

[itzpookiepooh]

Please this is the most complicated thing ever! I have so many!!!! You don’t understand how many things I have love for! I can do this all day but I just mentioned some classics that made me who I am today (humor wise too <3)

No pressure tags: @iraot @sweeethrt @captivating-flavors

snagged this from someone else. show your top 10 movies using gifs.

no presh tags: @unknown-ends @blessdunrest @dem0batz @xxsyluslittlecrowxx @thechaoticarchivist @peascrabbles and anyone else i missed who’d like to participate!

[itzpookiepooh]

Guys this was straight heat!

something borrowed, something blue masterlist

john price, head of the price mafia family, needs a wife. luckily, simon riley has an unmarried sister and a need for resources. only problem? prices and rileys don't exactly mix well...

AO3 LINK

the proposal

the meeting

wedding week

the wedding

the honeymoon

a week of friendship

a bookstore in the making

mended bonds

an almost fresh start

past dreams and current nightmares

snitches and rats

found you

baby steps

a new chapter

this is an enemies to lovers, arranged marriage mafia au! john price x f!reader. reader is simon's half sister. all of our four boys will be featured (eventually). the "enemies" part is mutual disdain, not life or death enemies. lots of cheeky banter here. it is medium burn, since the lines of "hate" and passion can be easily crossed. the rileys are a smaller manchester gang and the prices are in charge of london's biggest mafia. i am american so some places/slang/logistics might be not be right!! don't hate me! i am googling manchester/london slang but if you have some recs, feel free to comment. more to come <3

tag: fic: sbsb mafia price

taglist is closed, pls turn on notifs <3

[itzpookiepooh]

No discussion!

[itzpookiepooh]

I love these little comics 😩

Squish squish pt.2

[itzpookiepooh]

Hey girl love your posts!! I just recently saw a tiktok where a girl was showing her and her bf’s shared apartment and each had their own rooms, cute n all right but the comments were divided some saying ab how it’s bad others loving it etc. I get both sides but personallyyy i love this idea but yk that’s just me i think we all deserve our alone time and some space too. Anyways this got me thinking how the lads guys would react if yall were to be house hunting and mc brings up the idea of having separate bedrooms? 😭 I imagine they’d be either iffy or completely against it , probs more the latter 😭

Thank ya thank ya! I also want my own room if I ever move in with a spouse because I like to be by myself especially around that time 😭

Separate Rooms

Rafayel was shocked you even asked. He tried to act nonchalant about it at first however, he loves cuddling into you at night. He tried not to let it bother him but it was hard.

“Cutie do you really need to sleep alone every night?” His voice trembled but his facade slipping.

“Sometimes I just like my space.” You told him not thinking anything of it.

“From me?” He pouts with wide eyes. You chuckled holding his puffy cheeks.

“We’ll have all day with each other and if you’re really feeling lonely we can plan sleepovers. How’s that?” You compromised as his gaze shifts. He had to think this over.

“We can cuddle then, right?” He asked as you nodded. He smiles and sighs in relief.

Such a dramatic guppie.

Caleb liked to die when you even uttered it. He went on the longest monologue about you wanting to be away from him. You told him countless times that you’d still be living together but it’s like he can’t hear you.

“Caleb! If I say we can cuddle once a week will you stop?!” You shouted over his incessant monologue.

He pauses before turning to you, “Twice a week.”

“Once or leave it.” You negotiated back with crossed arms.

“Twice and you cuddle me no matter how hot it is. I’m not going any lower.” He negotiated back with a smug expression. You huff.

“The A/C has to be on full blast.” You narrowed your eyes at him as he shrugged.

“Deal.” He settled before going back to what he was doing.

Sylus was for whatever you wanted. He did however, have to hide how sad he was to be away from you. He would miss coming home to see you sleeping in his bed. He agreed nonetheless, it was a change he would have to inevitably have to become accustomed to.

“As long as you’re comfortable I don’t mind.” He explained to you with a smirk.

“It doesn’t bother you?” You asked. He just shrugged, you hated when he brushed off his feelings.

“I’ll be sad not seeing you immediately when I come home.” He spoke honestly. Your bottom lip poked out feeling sad about it.

“If I have a nightmare can I still come see you?” You asked sheepishly. He visibly lights up with an eyebrow raised.

“You can come to me even if you didn’t.” He chuckled when you hugged him. He kissed your head and rubbed your back.

Xavier was distraught when you brought it up. Space? He loved curling up to you after a long day. What was he going to do now? He was visibly upset.

“Xavier we’ll still love together.” You tried to cheer him up. He was still so pouty.

“I still want to cuddle.” He mumbled making you laugh.

“We can still cuddle any day you want.” You replied with a soft tone. He perked up side eying you.

“Really?” He questioned as you nodded to secure your statement.

He fully agreed after that. After work naps were his for the taking.

Zayne didn’t mind because he wouldn’t disturb you when he had to come in late from the hospital. Your comfort was his top priority however, he didn’t anticipate the sleep he wasn’t getting.

“You look exhausted.” You commented one morning. He shook his head not wanting to worry you.

“I worked overtime last night.” He stated as he sipped his tea slowly.

“Zayne you can always come to me if you can’t sleep.” You told him, your voice filled with empathy. He nodded slowly.

To your surprise he came knocking that night with his pillow in hand. You were reading when you told him to enter.

“I have an 18 hour shift tomorrow.” He told you. You tried to hold in your smile as you pulled your blanket back.

He gladly took your invitation and was out like a light.

The train of thought never broke RAAAAAHHHH

[itzpookiepooh]

Nap Time

You wake up from a nap <3

You lifted yourself up on your forearms looking around. Vision distorted, discombobulated body and all. You couldn’t even see your poor lover dead asleep beside you because he’s buried in the pillows and sheets.

“Zayne?” You called looking around the room and not seeing him. You lift yourself higher.

“ZAYNE!” You called louder making him rise from the pile with messy hair and an extremely tired look.

“Why are you yelling?” He blinked slowly as he turned to you. You sighed falling into his tired body.

“I couldn’t find you.” You mumbled tiredly as you fit into the gap between him and the mattress. He ends up practically laying on top of you.

“I’m always nearby, my love.” He mumbled sleepily as you both dozed off once more.

Poor you getting dragged into having a midday nap with Sylus. You were dragged to the bed when you came home from running errands. Something about it’s his bedtime and that you needed rest from being away from him for so long.

When you woke up the room felt stuffy and your skin was clammy. Guess who wasn’t clammy though? Your behemoth of a boyfriend. He was sound asleep and the sun was setting. How long were you both sleep?

“Why are you looking around like a lost kitten?” He questioned, his eyes still closed as you turn to look at him.

“How long have we been sleeping?” You asked looking at the window blocked by curtains as the sunset leaks through.

“It was a midday nap we’ve hardly been asleep.” He reassured you. He pulls you down and basically purrs as he drifts back to sleep.

What are you going to do with a sleep schedule like this?

Xavier always snuck a nap into his schedule. Getting you to take one was the issue. Especially since he held you hostage during said nap. You thought you’d never escape his grasp again.

Today was different! It was a long day and Xavier knew he could get you to nap with him. After a solid nap you had to go to the bathroom. Sadly for you your boyfriend wakes up whenever you’re not near. When you left the bathroom, drying your hands with a random hand towel, there he was sitting up straight like a meerkat.

“Hello…” You trailed off suspiciously. His head snapped to where you stood before relaxing.

“You left me.” He pouted tiredly. His hair strewn every which way.

“I had to pee you big baby.” You crawl into bed and snuggle him to which puts him back to sleep.

Rafayel holds you for dear life during a nap because he gets nightmares due to the lack of sleep he gets. You felt like an octopus was trying to pop you like confetti. It would wake you up and you’d have to detach yourself from him. The huffing and puffing and the amount sweating it took to pry him off was ridiculous.

“Finally.” You huffed falling on your back tiredly. You sighed before dozing off.

When you woke up again? You’re held tighter than before and now he’s laying on your chest.

“Rafayel, have mercy.” You plead making him groan in his sleep.

“Don’t push me away.” He grumbled tiredly making you sigh deeply as you caressed his scalp.

Caleb runs like a furnace everyday of the year. You hate taking a nap with him sometimes because on top of that he’s a cuddler. It’s ridiculous. When you know he’s getting sleepy you go busy yourself. You love Caleb don’t doubt that it’s just the excess body heat.

How could you resist those puppy eyes when he asks you though? You’re caught in his trap and he holds you nice and tight against him. He snores a bit but it’s white noise to you at this point when you wake up you’re fanning yourself rapidly.

“So…hot.” You said exasperated. Caleb’s grogginess doesn’t stop him from handing you some water.

You take three big gulps and then you’re pulled down by him into the pile of fluffy blankets and pillows.

“Finally.” He sighed in relaxation as if you were drinking for far too long.

A well needed nap Caleb would say.

[itzpookiepooh]

Me fr and I still haven’t finished the story

dont mind me yall

[itzpookiepooh]

Same Difference

Based on this ask <3

You and Rafayel were the same but also polar opposites. He likes classical music, you like rock music. You both like art but he paints on a canvas and you graffiti. You both bond about the sea with him being a siren and you surfing and exploring abandoned ships.

Vastly different but closely similar. Rafayel didn’t know how to feel about you at first. You were so rambunctious and upbeat while he was poised and seemed stuck up. Getting to know each other was the fun part.

“So what do you do for fun?” He asked leaning in to show interest. You tap your chin three times, faux thinking.

“Urbex.” You answered proudly. His eyebrows raise in concern.

“Isn’t that illegal trespassing?” He asked holding up one hand. You roll your eyes.

“Yes but it’s fun!” You exclaimed as he just nodded slowly. Yeah you guys weren’t the same in his eyes but on the outside looking in? Yes you were.

You always kept him on his toes when it came to adventure. Like the time you went to an underground rave with some friends.

“It was where?” He asked with a questionable look.

“A sewer!” You said cheerfully. It was your thing which he couldn’t be mad about.

“Isn’t that dangerous?” You just nodded, “If you stay when they flush out the system then, yes.”

He couldn’t believe you did such dangerous things but so did he when he needed to. Going into a dangerous club for information was his specialty. You thought he was crazy then too so you’re even.

“You’ve been in the N109 zone? I’ve only gone to graffiti.” You pout falling into the sofa.

“You went into the N109 zone to graffiti?” He was more shocked about this than you were about him going.

“Art is art. Graffiti is just on a brick wall instead of a canvas.” You explained as he chuckled. He shook his head with a soft smile on his lips.

“You are something else. Y’know that?” He asked putting his elbows on his knees.

“Yeah but you love me.” You tease causing him to roll his eyes playfully.

“Yeah, yeah. I hear ya.” He said as you playfully hit him.

You guys really are different sides of the same coin.

This took a while because I had to figure out how to go about it but I’m done! <3

[itzpookiepooh]

How do you think the LADs would react to the reader being extremely klutzy. Like sure they bump into a lot of things and fall down which can be funny but like if they looked close enough they could notice all the little scars and scrapes accumulated throughout the readers life. (It’s me. I’m reader, and this is fully self indulgent)

Oopsie!

A loud crash was heard from the other room but that didn’t stop Zayne from typing. He was use to your shenanigans and it usually fit right into his schedule. It was like clock work.

“Are you alright?” He called to you from his office. The sound of you groaning and getting up rang throughout the hallway.

“Yeah. I’m great.” Your voice strained as you walked it off but he could hear you about to start running again.

“Don’t run in socks.” He called to you again before you responded with, “Gotcha!”

He shook his head continuing to type.

This is his life. Everyday is a bump or a bruise and he didn’t know if you should be wrapped in bubble wrap or not. He was cooking when you crashed and he rushed to see what you hurt this time.

“I ran into the door.” You groaned holding your head. He got you an ice pack and held it to your temple.

“How did you do that?” He questioned curiously. You shrugged.

“I can’t even explain it if I tried.” You mumbled laying your back on his chest.

“Don’t fall asleep!” He yelled sitting you up making him sigh defeated.

When you first started hanging around Sylus more he assumed you were just clumsy. Now? He’s starting to think something might be wrong with your equilibrium. He does the same routine when you fall or bump into something.

Stop what he’s doing.

Listen and wait.

If you get up and continue then he’s not worried if you’re okay. This time you somehow tumbled into his office and he just stared at you unfazed.

“Hi.” You smile awkwardly as Sylus raises an eyebrow. Luke and Kieran peek their heads in as well.

The game the three of you were playing got too rowdy.

“They fell.” They spoke in unison making Sylus nod.

“I see that.” Sylus answered as you got up and dusted yourself off. When you left Sylus looked at the twins expecting an explanation.

“It genuinely was a fall.” Luke told him but it wasn’t anything Sylus wasn’t use to.

Rafayel knew how clumsy you were and it didn’t help that his house was filled with art supplies. He would make callouts to you with his back turned but it never really helped you.

“Hey Rafa—“ He interrupted you, “Paintbrush.” He said as he continued to use light brush strokes.

You went to dodge it only to completely step on it and fall into the pile of paint cans. He sighed as he continued to paint. He knew it was a mess before turning around.

“Incident number 23 this week.” He mumbled making you quirk up.

“Actually it’s 21!” You fling your arms only to hit it on the can.

“22.” He stated before putting his paintbrush back onto the pallet.

Xavier was constantly catching you. You would bump, slip, and fall everywhere. He was use to it so he didn’t mind but he wondered often if you needed to see someone for it.

“Look what I made!” You cheer holding up your creation but all he could focus on were your hands. They were covered in bandaids.

His eyes trail up to your glowing face with a worried expression.

“It’s wonderful but how did that happen?” He points to your hands.

“Oh! Scissors!” You said cheerfully still as you turn the project around so he could see. He just nods slowly with an even more worried expression on his face.

All of Rafayel’s was erased and I was 2 seconds from blowing my top.

[itzpookiepooh]

So cute!

happy fathers day :)

(PS these are their mothers :))

random trivia below the cut:

altair

altair was adopted by his dad xavier and his mom rinne

his favorite book is the little prince because his dad reads it to him all the time

he likes sword-fighting

he gardens with his mom and likes to cook using the vegetables they grow (he is a good cook)

rael and melody

half-lemurian twins due to their dad rafayel being lemurian and their mom aria being a human

melody's actual name is alia—she's called melody by most people but alia by close family and friends because her name is similar to her mom

aria named rael and rafayel named alia (simps...)

huahua

has a sweet tooth like her baba zayne (her mama jasmine scolds both of them for the amount of sugar they intake)

wants to be a doctor like her baba (she saw the scars on his arm and said she wants to heal him)

when zayne is busy she writes letters to him about her day and leaves it in a "mailbox" for him to read. he writes letters back and leaves some sweets for her if he's working the next day. if he's off though he makes her breakfast and tells her in-person

percy, penny, haoyu

the eldest percy is the troublemaker, the middle child penny is the smart one, and the youngest haoyu is just enjoying life

their dad caleb and their mom mei meant to stop at three. except they are feral beasts that crave each other so badly that there is now a fourth inside mei's stomach.

they're called the "san pingguos" (three apples) by their aunts and uncles

ruby

eye colors are from her dad sylus (red) and her mom lilia (amber) respectively

half-dragon, likes showing it off when she's at home

if you don't like her dad or mom she doesn't like you

luke and kieran are her older brothers and she finds them affectionately annoying

[itzpookiepooh]

“I don’t care about your mother. Say it.”

Whole story got me screaming mercy 🙂‍↕️

the courtship (john price x f!reader)

victorian london ish, SMUT, virgin reader, breeding kink, historically INaccurate, 5k wc

medieval marriage fic here (similar ish)

-

“lord, er, captain price.” you duck your head as you curtsy, inwardly cursing your fumble. the earl of a grand estate outside of london has returned from two years of war to attend the first ball of the season and here you are, words drying in your mouth. you met him once, in your first season out three years ago, and subsequently never again as he was called away. the rules of society are fragile and webbed as you try to not contemplate the propriety of him approaching you when you were barely acquainted so long ago.

when you tilt your head, you realize he’s already greeted you by name and seemingly asked a question, coffee brown eyes crinkling as you open and close your mouth. “i’m sorry my lord, would you mind repeating that?” you ask meekly, a gloved fist tightening against the periwinkle fabric of your dress. a new one, your first in two years, your mother’s attempt to make you into an appealing single lady and not a resigned wallflower.

“i remarked how surprised i was to see you still unmarried.” he comments tactlessly, his voice a dagger that aims at your deepest insecurities. you’ve resigned yourself to certain spinsterhood, but his tone is almost a jest of the circumstances you find yourself in. you straighten your shoulders and drop the demure tone you acquire whenever you step into a ballroom.

“i have yet to find a gentleman to my standards, my lord.” his eyes twinkle like he’s in on a private joke. unlike men of his age, at least a decade older than you with riches that would buy them a pretty wife whenever they desire, his body is as thick as a strongman. the gentleman’s clothes he dons feel like a farce, battling with his muscled stature despite their expensive tailoring. when lord price steps forward, all that mass inching towards the hem of your skirts, you inhale a breath.

something underneath your stomach flutters.

“and what might those be?” your eyes find your mother’s across the room, her urging clear with how her grin is stretched almost manically. lord price steps to the side, blocking your view until it’s only his crystal blue eyes. he inclines his head, an encouragement to answer his question, and the sparse greys in his beard sparkle in the chandelier light.

“someone kind and inclined to intelligent conversation. a man who can see over the hill of his own self importance. most crucially, he-“ except you don’t get to continue, because in your few minutes of conversation, word has reached the Mothers of the season that lord price has returned and is still wifeless.

“my lord, how good of you to return!”

“my lord, you must remember my oldest, she was not yet out when-“

“my lord, how valiant your actions have been. may i-“

swaths of fabric, chiffon and lace and silk, drown your vision as they descend. you find yourself being moved back to the wall by pushy elbows and inked fans, the crowd seemingly forcing you back into your wallflower cage. you lose lord price’s gaze as he’s surrounded, and after waiting for twenty minutes, there’s no opening to talk to him again, short of shoving yourself through the fabric.

your dance card remains empty, bar one pity dance from lord garrick, the son of your father’s close school friend. when you dance, a waltz where garrick remarks on who he’s going to court this season, you swear eyes follow your movements the whole time. but when you turn, the gaggle of mamas and lord price is gone.

the carriage ride home is silent, your mother’s disappointed gaze following you all the way to bed.

-

in the morning, you force yourself to swallow any disappointment. rumors have abounded as to the restrained ferocity of lord price, and he is not the kind of husband you desire. neither gentle nor calm, someone who would give your freedom without much demand. yes, you are much better off without any thoughts of lord price floating in your head.

after your maid readies you for the day, in an older dress that your family can’t afford to replace, you plan the day ahead. perhaps you’ll ask to shop in town with one of your sisters, not yet out, or take a turn in your garden, ignoring your mother’s curses when you get dirt on your hem. as you descend the stairs, you think of the novels in your father’s study. maybe you could steal a new one today, something to chase away any thoughts of-

an explosion of color stops you in your tracks. multiple bouquets, a rainbow of scents and shades, stand on the table in the middle of your receiving room. your mother stands in one of her usual day dresses, muttering about the language of flowers and the cost of them, nearly not recognizing your presence until you clear your throat.

“mother? what’s all this?” the manic grin is back as she tugs you into her side. “now, you may not lose this chance, dear. and you must wear the new walking dress we bought for you. you must smile and nod and do not make that ghastly noise you just did.” you blink in confusion at the barrage of etiquette comments. “mother?” she huffs like you’re stupid.

“lord price has asked you for an afternoon promenade in the park today. a little forward, i might think if you were in your earlier seasons, but he could’ve presented you with a daisy from our very own flower bushes and i would’ve agreed. i’ll chaperone, of course, so we must break our fast and get changed.” the day passes in a whirl of nibbled food, your stomach too fluttery for a proper meal, and pampering, your hair done in a fashionable style while your maid prepares your dress. mother convinces father to allow you the carriage to deliver you to the park, not wanting her pristine preparations to go to waste by walking. the hours fly like a dream and too suddenly you find yourself on the way to the park, the most popular area for a promenade.

the carriage stops at the entrance, and you inhale sharply at the sight of lord price already waiting. your mother pinches your thigh as a reminder to her etiquette lessons and you get moving, taking lord price’s hand to help you out of the carriage. “good afternoon, my lord.” you murmur, eyes cast down as to concentrate on not falling out from the carriage. but of course, your toe catches in your too big walking shoes, a hand me down from your older sister, and you stumble immediately, almost planting yourself in the grass.

firm hands grasp your waist over your corset, catching you before your tumble. lord price plants you firmly, his grip as warm as a brand. you stand there for a moment, eyes squinting in the sunny day as you try to discern his features. your mother’s voice cuts through the air, a remark about the weather, and you step out of his grip, inclining your head in thanks.

“do i intimidate you?” he asks as you take his arm, your mother keeping pace a few yards away. you jerk at his words, unused to such an indelicate question. “i, well, perhaps a bit.” you answer, focusing on the trail you walk and not the overwhelming scent of man next to you. he hums contentedly, seemingly satisfied with your admission. the cynical, spinster part of your brain marks that as a point against him, his effect on you clearly predatory.

you ignore the alarm bell that blares.

“you danced with lord garrick yesterday.” he remarks. your brows crease in confusion, then quickly smooth as your mother’s voice rings a reminder about delicacy in your head. “he’s a family friend. i’d like to consider him an older brother.” lord price doesn’t respond, his eyes searing a hole into your head. how infuriating, his expression completely unreadable.

“you seemed to dance with every young lady in the country.” it comes out as a bite, startling yourself as much as lord price. you sigh, sure to have ruined your one chance out of spinsterhood.

he surprises you with a chuckle, loud enough that it vibrates in your skin.

the other couples and groups around you turn in interest. you’ve never seen lord price have a full smile, let alone a laugh, and you practically glow in the satisfaction of it. “every moment i handed one off, another appeared in its place. my feet were aching more than a day on the battlefield.” you grin, then drop your smile as you realize how toothy it is. how improper. however, his response emboldens you.

“then why ask for a walk today, my lord?” you wonder aloud, almost self consciously. he doesn’t acknowledge how you’re fishing for a compliment, simply tightens your hand in the crook of his elbow.

“i’d like to court you.”

you nearly stumble in surprise, quickly recovering before anyone notices. “truly?” it’s not a polite response, but you can’t help the wonder in your voice. no one has ever spoken those words to you, ever lady’s dream.

“i was rather hoping the flowers made my intentions quite clear.” all you do is nod, blinking rapidly. he resumes a note of conversation, some tale as to how he’s acquainted with lord garrick, and though lord price does not check any box on your list of husband qualities, you find yourself quite liking the idea of a courtship.

-

the next weeks pass in a blur of opera visits and museum invitations and dances, lord price’s humongous hand in your own. at the edges of it, something frays. he is kind to footmen and valets, but disregards many of the peerage. your father highly dislikes him, his accomplishments unseemly for a peer, but your mother is just glad to finally have a prospect for you. he’s friendly with viscount riley and mr. mactavish, a scottish embassy gentleman, but every other gentleman seems to despise his presence.

you have the distinct feeling that to be his wife would force you into the same dislike as well.

a month into your courtship, the rumors start.

a new conflict brewing in france. troops being called in, a patriotic worry in the air. when you ask lord price over tea in your family’s singular parlor, he doesn’t elaborate on any details. he sweeps you into a conversation on french versus english philosophers, much to the chagrin of your mother in the corner, and you can’t help but get lost in the discussion of how the indian philosophers are much more advanced, any thoughts of lord price leaving falling to the wayside.

it’s the next ball when you find out. you’ve arrived earlier than lord price or any in his group, and the ladies of your age have taken advantage. suddenly everyone wants to be your friend, wants insight on the three single men lord price holds kinship with, their looks appealing to all eligible ladies. lord garrick with his charming smile and honey-dripped words, mr. mactavish’s humor and his unimaginable wealth that comes from war equipment, and even viscount riley with his mysterious scars and hulking manner.

they’re there, too, to investigate your courtship. they poke at any cracks and disappointedly find none, sighing when you reference the newest yellow roses lord price’s had delivered to your home only two days ago. your happiness is evident in the brightness in your eyes, and of course the vultures cannot resist but to peck.

“and do you think he’ll propose before he’s deployed next week?” miss madeline graves, a niece of lord phillip graves, asks with a smirk on his face. your heart drops to your stomach as you gape at her words. “pray tell, whatever do you mean?” she blinks like she’s surprised at your confusion, smiling demurely at the other girls before leaning in. “i overheard my uncle in his business talks yesterday. lord price and his entire division, including lord garrick, are to leave for three months by the end of next week.” she pauses for effect, head turning like an owl’s as she takes in your shocked expression. “you didn’t know?”

you flee immediately, pleading a headache as you gather your skirts and head for a nearby sitting room to catch your breath. deploying for three months? he hadn’t mentioned it last night, dining at your family’s table without a care in the world. was this all a minor dalliance before going back to his true home on the battlefield? have you just been entertainment, see how far he can make the wallflower attach herself to him before he leaves? and you’re left here, to sheer social ruin.

in your haste, it’s no surprise that you bump into a body. hard muscle is like a stone wall, but steady hands catch you before you can flail backwards. “sweetheart?” his new name for you hits like a vial of poison, and you can’t stand to look into his eyes. “leave me be.” you attempt to push him away, but he holds your wrists in one hand, unyielding. not wanting to make more of a scene, you tug him with you into the corridor. the nearest open door reveals a study and you march through it.

“when were you going to tell me of your deployment, my lord? waving from the back of your military carriage?” you spit venom, reeling around so he drops your hands. lord price is unbelievably handsome tonight, his beard almost soft in the light. his face doesn’t change at your accusation like he knew of your complaints before they’d been voiced.

“you aren’t invested in this courtship.” he replied, not even addressing your point. lord price steps forward and you follow with a step back, the two of you in a silent dance until your back hits the desk in the study. light from the hallway floods in, a reminder that the door is slightly open, but you barely notice in your rage.

“i haven’t been invested? you’ve been playing with me like a child’s toy, my lord.” to your horror, a tear slips down your cheek. lord price steps forward again, his feet brushing your skirts. “i’ve told you to call me john, sweetheart.” your traitorous heart thumps at his words.

“and i’ve told you that’s improper. my mother-“

“i don’t care about your mother. say it.” his hand, dusted with hair and scars, grasps your chin lightly. lord price, john, tilts your head upwards until you can’t escape his gaze. “john.” you breathe, and his nostrils flare like a wild animal. his thumb brushes your skin, and you practically curl into it.

“you didn’t tell me you were leaving.” you mumble, another tear falling. his thumb moves to wipe it off your face. john removes his grip to feed his thumb, wet with your tears, into his mouth. he sucks hard like a candied almond, and removes it with a pop.

you’re speechless.

“marry me.” john demands. he grips your torso, uncaring of the weight of your body and skirts combined, and lifts you onto the desk. he steps forward into the cradle of your hips, the fabric of your skirts stretching to accommodate him.

you don’t want a husband like this. pushy and belligerent when he doesn’t get his way. too frank for his own good with no regard for social rules even if he is an earl. he handles you like he owns you, hands still on your waist. and he still hasn’t acknowledged his own deployment.

“no.” you sniffle. john grins like a cat who’s got the cream, settling his weight further into you. to your horror, a feeling practically permanent with this man, john leans in to nuzzle your neck. gentle lips brush the skin there and you shiver at the feeling.

“you’re an absolute brute, johnathon price. i won’t have you as my husband.” you demand resolutely, inhaling sharply as john kisses your jaw. your first kiss and it’s like this, hidden away in a baron’s study. “tell me more, sweetheart.” he murmurs into your earlobe, biting it as the words leave his mouth. your hands settle at his shoulders, a perfect position to push him away, but they lay limp. “you’re a liar.” he tugs at your ear with his teeth. “with deplorable social skills.” he licks the skin of your neck and your hands tighten around him. “you didn’t tell me you were leaving.” his tongue drags upward, catching another tear on your skin. his beard is rougher than you though, like a scratchy towel against freshly bathed skin.

“i’ve had to fight off every lady for your attention.” john kisses your cheek, your nose, the side of your mouth. his hands tighten around your flesh, almost like he’s irritated with the barrier of your corset. “you don’t want me. i’m a spinster you’ve been playing with to pass the time.” the truth finally spills out.

john captures your lips hungrily, like he’s been deprived of all food for weeks. he’s insistent, his lips rough and demanding. teeth pull down your lower lip and a whine escapes your throat, a sound you’ve never heard before. “i want you as my wife.” he rasps as his hands trail upwards. despite your layers of fabric, he finds the outline of your hardened nipple. callused thumbs rub at both of your tits, a vibration becoming increasingly urgent in the bottom of your belly.

“this is improper, my lord.” john deprives you of his mouth, tugging it away to trail down your neck. over the fabric of your dress, a pale pink that matches the flowers in your hair, john captures you nipple in his mouth. he’s sure to leave a wet spot, even as he switches from one to the next. your hips start to rock against the desk, needing something you can’t even name. your fingers find john’s scalp, tugging him up until he’s captured your mouth again.

“you will marry me, sweetheart.”

“you are incorrigible and intolerable-“

“dear me.” a low voice rattles through the room, and you freeze under john’s lips. they cock in a smile, so small you think you’ve imagined it, and quickly leave your skin.

you have to blink to register the moment. viscount riley stands with lord garrick and mr. mactavish, who has the widowed lady laswell tucked into his grip. the viscount is expressionless, as is lady laswell, but mr. mactavish is holding a playful grin. your eyes find lord garrick, pleading silently to your childhood friend, but he winks and your skin goes cold.

“lord price, explain yourself.” lady laswell demands, her brows not moving an inch. you jump in before john can. “please, you saw merely a lapse in judgement. can we all agree that nothing untoward happened?” the group is silent. viscount riley shakes his head an inch and your stomach drops.

“what my fiancée meant to say,” john squeezes your waist as to emphasize the point, “is that we were celebrating our recent engagement and got carried away. isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

fiancée. engagement. sweetheart. you’ve been a rabbit this whole time, unknowingly walking into a fox’s den like you were blind. captain john price, lord and gentleman, always gets what he wants. the courtship was nothing more than him playing with his food.

you’re a spinster. you hate him a little but you admire him more, and he laughs at your terrible jokes and doesn’t reprimand you for speaking of jane austen and her novels. he’s completely torn up your list of husband qualities you demand.

and in his own primal way, he cares about you more than any other person ever has.

what more could you want?

“that’s exactly what i meant to say, fiancé.” you peck his cheek for emphasis. he squeezes your waist like a reward. the group simply smiles and nods. john helps you down from the desk and captures your lips in a short kiss, uncaring of your captive audience.

“shall we share the happy news, sweetheart?”

-

a week ago, john applied for a marriage license for your union in the heart of london’s st james cathedral. you find out this fact on the morrow after he hammers out the details of your dowry with your grim faced father, more displeased to lose his money than his daughter. your mother faints from shock when john announces your wedding to be a week from the day, a mere two days before he is to deploy.

the next week comes in flashes. wedding gown fittings, only the best for the earl’s new bride. john’s meetings with his soldiers that go on all day. you only see him once in seven days and you worry that he’s forgotten you at all.

“how are you?” his thumb finds the gentle skin of your hairline, tracing down the line of your face. you’ve convinced your mother to let you talk unchaperoned in the parlor, reminding her of your impending marriage in two days. “you’ve barely seen me.” you mumble, grumpy and displeased from the business of wedding preparations. john yanks you onto his lap, skirts and all, so fast you can only blink.

“you’ll need to practice for when i’m gone.” he reasons, smirking when you lean your head into his chest with a frown on your face. “i can’t believe you’ve compromised me and now you’re leaving.” his hand covers your own, stopping you from picking at the wrist of your sleeved dress. “you’ll know when i compromise you, sweetheart. in two days time, to be precise.” terrible, terrible man who refuses to comfort you. you tuck your head into the crook of his beard and rub against the bristles there, content as he hums. he holds you, occasionally kissing your forehead as you wonder how you’ve gotten into this mess.

-

in two days time, you are trussed up like a pig with an apple and shoved into layers upon layers of wedding fabric. the day passes with a morning ceremony, john’s hands gripping your own as you promise devotion and servitude. he laughs at that line, like he already knows you plan to lash back against any restraints he tries to put on you. the feast is a breakfast of pastries and meats and you can’t focus with his hand on your thigh at every opportunity, a reminder of the ring on your finger.

and suddenly, you’re alone. in the apartments he owns for the london season, with a plan to return to his country estate the next day. afternoon light streams through the windows of his bedroom, all military with its precise cleanliness and lack of decoration. john looks at you like a hunter, wild with hunger. “turn.” you follow, turning to face the enormous bed in front of you. steady hands clasp your head, freeing you from the pins in your hair. after that comes the hundreds of buttons that start at the nape of your neck, his fingers deft and sure.

he leaves only for a moment to drop the pins, then comes back to free you from the gown. he loosens your corset expertly, faster than your lady’s maid, and you can’t help the thought that escapes you. “you’re quite adept at corset loosening.” your shoulders slump at your own stupidity as his hands freeze. john spins you until you meet his eyes and the sternness there.

“any person before you does not matter.”

you exhale sharply, then nod.

he finishes the corset that way, pulling at the laces with more force than necessary. he pulls it over your head and throws it somewhere on the floor. your shield of clothing is gone, your chemise the only fabric protecting you from his gaze.

john starts on his military dress, unbuttoning his jacket and tossing it to a nearby chair. he does the same to his pants and boots until he’s naked, everywhere.

you can’t help but to stare. at the bearishness of him, the dark hair speckled on his hands that expand to the rest of his body. his beard now seems like a concession to the wildness of his chest hair that leads down to his cock, standing proudly. your husband is a predator in a human body, standing confidently as you peruse his looks. “sit.” you do immediately, feet dangling from the massive height of his bed, a luxury you’ve never seen covered in pelts and furs like a caveman.

john crouches and catches one of your feet, still encased in your white wedding shoes. he frees your foot, then kisses the arch of it. john licks your ankle bone, then works his way up to the hem of your chemise where your thighs tremble. before you can stop him, he goes back down and does the same with your other foot.

you’re shaking, with both nerves and excitement, when he reaches your chemise again. “what have you been told?” his fingers duck under the fabric, lifting it up slowly to lay on your stomach. “from my mother, duty.” he chuckles, one thumb running down the seam of your cunt against the hair there. “as usual, your mother is incorrect.” john presses his thumb down right at the top of the seam and you gasp, a heady friction rubbing against your nerves. “it’s pleasure. bliss. making love.” his thumb drags down and pushes inward, his eyes on you as he watches for a reaction. you bite your lip as your nipples peak and sensitivity makes itself known in your bones.

“are we making love, my lord?” you punctuate your question with a whine as he starts moving his thumb in a circle, pleasure quickly building. “yes, wife. we’re making love.” he leans forward, thumb still moving, and kisses you. you wrap your arms around him immediately, having been deprived of him for the past few days. your body follows its instincts as your legs wrap around his torso, the angle even better with his movements. “when you’re gone, will you do this with anyone else?” you ask, needing the answer before the deed is done. before you fall into this endless abyss he’s pushed you into.

“no. i’ll show you what i’ll do with my cock when i’m away and what you can do with your cunt, yeah?” you nod vigorously, your kisses turning wet with spit as you finally allow yourself to show the affection you’ve been wanting. his fingers move at a steady rhythm and your stomach tenses. “john, what’s-“ you moan as he continues, his unoccupied middle finger pushing into your seeping hole. “that’s an orgasm, baby. can feel your walls fluttering. just let it happen.” you do, letting your stomach relax as pleasure rushes out of you. he keeps going as you pant, bones liquid as one finger becomes two and wet sounds echo in the bedroom.

just two fingers makes you feel like your body is expanding. his cock is red and angry and you know from visiting the zoo how the rest of this goes. “you’re not going to fit, my lord.” he grins against your skin. his head drops to your chest, where your chemise still hides your tits. he mouths at your hardened nipples, turning the fabric see through with spit. john does the same to other, and that familiar spark makes itself known in your stomach. “john, i’m going to- going to-“ he bites your nipple and you whine, clawing at his muscled shoulders as your heels dig into his back.

“you’re going to come, baby.” he tugs the chemise down with his teeth so he can properly bite at your nipple. his fingers, filling your cunt with their beckoning motion, brush against a spot deep inside you. you come again, more

prolonged than the first time, squirming in his arms as you ride his fingers. he adds a third and you protest until he kisses you again, your body limp and defeated.

john tugs off your soaked garment and frees you from any remaining fabric, stockings ripped somewhere on the floor. you don’t care, obsessed with how his hairy chest rubs against your nipples as you buck and writhe. john’s hand leaves your cunt to grip his cock, the other hand petting yourself face gently as he murmurs. you’ve never heard of a man using the word baby in such an intimate fashion; you want to curl into his skin and live there forever. he chuckles as you kiss his neck, nipping at the muscle on top of you.

your husband, your husband.

“let me fill you up now. give you a baby., sweetheart.” you nod, opening your legs wider as you feel his cock rub through your folds. he notches it in and pushes slowly, bending one of your legs near your face to open you open. it’s an uncomfortable stretch but it doesn’t hurt, much like your mother said it would. you can’t imagine how it would with your slick coating your thighs and john’s hands. your husband finds a rhythm, rocking gently until you’re aching for more. you run your hands through his hair as he pants, thoroughly how undone he looks by your presence.

john promises you sweet words, that he’ll make you come on his cock the second time. that he’ll lick you once he’s done, once he’s sure it sticks. that he’ll give you a baby before he leaves, that you’ll fuck in the carriage to ensure it. you run those four letters over your teeth, having only heard them when passing the pubs of london once or twice in your carriage.

john comes with a grunt, warmth flooding your cunt. you sigh at the feeling, tugging him down onto your body. to live like this, utterly attached and connected. “how often may we do this?” you hear yourself asking, running your nails down his broad back, then up to the nape of neck. “every moment of the day.” he grumbles, kissing your sweaty shoulder. “that leaves no time for reading or conversation.” you argue with a smile on your face. “you can do both sitting on my cock, sweetheart. i’ll teach you.”

john shoves a pillow under your ass, tilting your hips with his cock still inside you. “i’ll make it take.” he promises, and you curl further into him, all soreness and sweat. the new countess price, ruffled and warm in your husband’s hold.

before he deploys, john shows you how to make love in every possible manner. on the carriage bench, bent over his study desk, the floor of his parlor, outside on the grassy grounds of his estate.

you wave him off from the front door of your new country estate, the largest earldom in england. one hand rests on your stomach, and although there’s no way to know, you’re sure you’ll have a present to greet him with when he returns.

-

i have been reading a lot of lisa kleypas historical fiction and this is scratching my itch