#Duchess!reader

[dante-mightdie]

Duke!Ghost and wifey unexpectedly have a son a little after having their daughter. Like she ain’t just sick, she’s pregnant. I’d like to see the ugly face of her mom and sis after knowing that hahaha

within the next twenty-four hours, the whole ton has been made aware of the newest introduction to the family. dozens of gifts and best wishes making their way to your home before the end of the following day

it can all wait, though. for you and simon would much prefer to spend the day together, your baby daughter cradled in your husbands arms whilst you dote on your newborn

and when the night falls, it’s just you and simon awake in the whole estate. your children fast asleep in their respective cribs side by side next to your bed. whispered praises in simon’s deep timbre soothing you to sleep. sweet nothings falling from his lips as all he can do is adore you, his lovely duchess who has given what he thought he would never deserve, a family <3

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

La vie en Amour 🩷

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

This is inspired by my Renaissance!Leon hcs that I did last Novemeber! You all loved it so much, and I did say I'd make a full story, so here it is!

I hope you enjoy 😚

♠︎

《Content》: NSFW. proceed with caution. Breast worship. PiV. creampie. Semi public sex? (They fuck in a carriage). Disgustingly in love individuals. So much love. Sickening. Sapphics. R's chamber maid is gay af. Basically a fantasy version of the Renaissance Era.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

As the wife of Duke Kennedy, it's not unusual for you to attend events. Your husband, as doting as ever, insists to dress you up himself. What is unusual, however, is the two of you having a quick, passionate romp on your way to the ball <3

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

"Which gown would you like to wear tonight, my lady?" Your maid, Rosalinde, asked while you were sat at your vanity.

Your fingers smoothed over your skin, working in the herb-infused oil.

The pleasant smell hit your nose, leaving a faint taste on your tongue. You smiled, looking at Rosalinde through the mirror.

"The light pink one with the lace. Just like the roses he gave me." You sighed dreamily, the pad of your thumb brushing against one of the many soft petals of the luscious bouquet that decorated your vanity.

She returned a sweet smile of her own, giving you a nod before dismissing herself to prepare your gown.

You were clothed in a soft, silken rob, waiting for your bath. You'd been invited to a grand ball this evening, and as the Duchess and Wife of Duke Kennedy, you had every plan to show the best side of yourself at such an extravagant event.

In the background you could pick up the sound of your bathtub being filled with bucket after bucket of steaming water.

Your fingers moved down your neck to massage in the oil, and through the mirror, you caught a glimpse of Rosalinde, watching, admiring you, partially hidden by the door frame.

You locked gazes, and she shyed away quickly, but a warm feeling rose on your cheeks and inside your chest.

The smell of lavender, honey, and creamy milk lingered in the air, signaling that your bath must be ready.

Your husband spoiled you, insisting you only get the best and most luxurious treatment.

You were hopelessly in love, daydreaming of how you would dance tonight, his gentle touches and a soft smile that never failed to have your heart oozing out of your ribcage, coating your insides.

You were pulled out of your love-induced fantasies by Rosalinde as she came to stand by your side.

"You may take your bath now, your grace." She spoke, an ever so gentle and calm tone to her voice.

You figured she'd collected herself but you could see the faintest hint of pink on her face.

"Thank you, my dear." You replied warmly, walking beside her on your way to your bath chamber.

Steam was rising from the tub, thickening the air.

She helped you out of your robe, her fingers grazing your shoulders. The touch made you sigh quietly, a pleasant feeling crawling up your spine.

You carefully stepped into the bath, sinking into the aromatic water with a relieved hum. You were evenloped by warmth and calming smells, the tension in your flesh slowly melting away.

Rosalinde settled behind you, attending to your hair.

Brushes, combs, oils, her fingers scratching your scalp. All of it made your eyes fall shut as you reveled in the comfort of your bath.

"Have you picked your jewels yet, my lady?" She asked quietly as not to disturb your peace.

A smile stretched over your face.

"The Duke insists he pick them himself." You heard your most trusted chamber maid chuckle behind you.

"Has he? He is quite smitten with you. Even as your husband." She responded, amused.

You giggled, dragging your hand through the water.

"I'm truly lucky to have him." You spoke softly.

A beat of comfortable silence fell over the room before Rosalinde spoke again.

"I wish to have such a blooming love like you and the Duke have once in my life." Your expression softened, and you turned your head to look at her, gently reaching your hand up to your shoulders and grasping hers in your palm.

"And you will, dear girl. I know you will. Although it feels torturous to have patience, it will be worth it." You said softly, hoping the sincerity in your words wasn't lost on her.

Your maid gave you a small smile, a flustered chuckled escaping her lips.

"Thank you, your grace. You are far too gentle and have a soul that is much too kind to be a noble. You're a true conundrum." Rosalinde chuckled, making you laugh softly.

Your heartfelt conversation was interrupted by a knock on your chamber doors.

Her hands slipped from your hair, and she dismissed herself with a mumbled excuse, rising to her feet and hastily walking to the door.

Your brows were furrowed in confusion. Who would knock at this hour?

All your tasks for the day were done, and everyone knew you'd be out of the house tonight. Surely there couldn't be an emergency?

You frowned slightly, hoping it wasn't a servant stumbling over his words to summon you to the council for more Duchessly duties.

Rosalinde came back with a smile, the door just out of your eyesight.

"The Duke wishes to see you, my lady."

A soft and playful roll of your eyes accompanied by a chuckle echoed through the room.

"All this time and he still asks. Of course he can see me." You replied with a smile, sitting up in the tub.

She nodded and quickly made her way back to the door, returning with your husband just a moment later.

"My darling wife." Leon announced, a soft expression on his features.

You lit up, pulling yourself out of the water, hands grasping the edge of the bathtub. Rosalinde rushed over to you and offered you her hand to steady you.

Rivulets of water and oil were running down the curves of your bare body, your skin shining. You stood at your full height and carefully stepped over the edge of the tub.

From the corner of your vision, you could've sworn you saw Rosalinde blush, her eyes admiring your glistening breasts before she quickly averted her eyes.

You glanced over at her.

"Thank you, Rosa. Go rest. I'll call for you if needed." You said kindly, watching as she nodded quickly and scurried off.

Both you and Leon watched her leave before he stepped forward.

"My Venus." He whispered, pressing his lips to yours in a soft kiss, his arms resting on your slick waist.

You smiled into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck. He didn't care that his shirt got soaked, all he wanted was to hold you.

You rested your forehead against his, your lips brushing occasionally.

"You truly know the way to a woman's heart." You giggled.

He cracked a smile and huffed softly.

"I know the way to your heart." He muttered, placing one peck after the other on your lips.

You squealed softly, trying to push him away, your hands flat on his chest.

"Let's get you dried off. We need to get you ready for that ball, hm? I know you'll look positively ravishing." Leon nosed at your neck, letting his lips graze your collarbone before pulling away.

The water on your skin had dried to a dull sheen.

"Oh, you'll get me ready, will you?" You asked amused, making your way towards your husband who was holding open a large linen cloth, ready to dry you.

"Do you doubt me, my love?" A sly grin sitting on his face.

You rolled your eyes, turning your back to him as he covered you in the linen, holding you in an embrace simultaneously.

"I would never. Pray and tell, why do I have maids when you want to do everything yourself?" He chuckled softly.

"I enjoy pampering you, dear. Can a husband not love on his wife?" Leon pressed a kiss to your cheek.

"No shame in that. But what will my girls do all day? They'll bore to death." You leaned your head back, resting it against his shoulder.

"They can attend to you when I've had my fill." He hummed, rubbing his hands up and down your arms to dry them off.

"And when will that be?" You chuckled, smiling.

"When I'm dead."

"Oh, you!" You scolded, slapping his arm while he only broke into laughter.

"Get yourself dry. I'll pick out your jewels in the meantime." He spoke softly, stifling a chuckle when you huffed, a pout on your lips.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

You stepped out in your cotton chemise, the fabric brushing loosely against your skin.

Leon was hunched over your vast collection of jewelery, touching the cooling precious stones and metals. He turned at the sound of your feet on the floor, greeting you with a smile.

"There you are. Come, sit." He beckoned, motioning to your bed.

With a soft chuckle you situated yourself on the cushy layers of feathers and silk.

He knelt down on one knee in front of you, pushing up the hem of your chemise, slipping one of your stockings on your leg and pressing a kiss to your knee.

The other went on in the same fashion, and he took his time carefully tying a ribbon around them so they wouldn't shift or fall down all evening.

You smiled down at him gently, your heart swelling at the softness he was displaying.

Your hands stroked his sandy locks, coming down to caress his cheek.

"You still need to get ready yourself." You muttered, sighing when he dragged his hands up your thighs, grasping your hips.

"And here I was looking forward to dressing you like my own little doll." He chuckled lowly.

"I'll let you put on all the jewels. But I don't need my laces coming undone in the middle of the dance floor." You smirked, laughing when he huffed and lightly jabbed you in the side.

You cupped his chin and lifted his head towards you.

"You clean up nicely, my love. Go on." You spoke softly, placing a kiss to his lips, urging him to get dressed himself.

Leon hummed contently, pulling away and rising from his knees.

"You'll save the good things for me?" He asked, his thumb stroking over your cheekbone.

"I promise." You smiled, holding his wrist in a gentle grasp.

His gaze softened as he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead.

"Until then." He whispered, the warmth of his touch slipping as he departed to his own chambers.

A soft chuckle escaped you and you glanced at the luscious roses sitting on your vanity before pulling on the tassel that would ring the bell in the servants quarters, successfully calling for Rosalinde.

Just a moment later the door opened and she peaked her head in.

"You called for me, your grace?"

You gave her a smile and beckoned her inside with a wave of your hand.

"Would you be so kind to dress me?" You asked, getting up from your place on the bed.

"But of course, my lady. You needn't ask." She smiled, beginning to whizz around the room to get everything ready.

"But leave my shoes and jewels, will you?"

She stopped and looked at you with a puzzled expression.

"Your grace?"

"Duke's orders."

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

And so, the great cinching began.

First came your stays, the boned structure keeping your bosom secure while also helping with your posture.

Next was any padding such as a bumroll or a crinoline. Whatever you fancied that night.

Now, petticoat after petticoat to build the voluptuous skirt of your gown. Some simple, made from cotton, while the last one was made from silk trimmed with lace.

Rosalinde reached around your waist to tie on your pocket before holding your dress for you to step into.

She laced it in the front, making sure to add an ornately embroidered stomacher.

"You look absolutely wonderful, my lady." Rosalinde sighed, staring at you with awe.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, smoothing your hands over the rich fabrics.

"I feel wonderful. All thanks to you." You smiled softly, catching her eye.

A faint blush dusted her cheeks and she chuckled nervously.

"Oh, please, your grace- Hair?" She said quickly, clearing her throat.

You laughed and nodded.

"Yes, hair."

Rosalinde worked her fingers through your locks, pinning a curl here, brading a stand there.

You watched her through the mirror, taking notice of the concentrated furrow between her brows, making you crack a faint smile.

In the end, your hair was decorated with pearls, ribbons, feathers, whatever your heart desired.

"You did marvously, as always." You smiled widely.

"Thank you, my lady." She replied with a smile.

You stood up from your seat, turning and taking her hands in yours.

"Thank you." You spoke sincerely.

"Of course. Just ring for me when you get back later-"

"We'll manage. You deserve some time for yourself. I'll see you in the morning, please enjoy your evening." You gave her hands a gentle squeeze.

Rosalinde looked stunned, her eyes wide and her lips parted.

"I-... are you sure, your grace? I'm grateful, but-" You chuckled and gently interrupted her.

"Hush. Please, I insist."

"W-Well then. Whatever you wish, my lady." She chuckled nervously, averting her eyes with a shy smile.

You gave her knuckles one last caress before letting her hands slide from your grasp.

"Good. Off you go." You smiled.

Rosalinde nodded with kind expression and made her way to the door, sparing you one glance over her shoulder before she slipped out of the room.

With content sigh, you made your way to the full-length mirror in your chambers.

Your reflection was almost blinding with the amount of pearls and crystals that were sewn onto your gown.

The silk gave off a faint shimmer as you smoothed your hands down the slightly cool material.

The lace on your sleeves brushed against your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

The sound of a distinctive knocking pattern echoed from the heavy wooden door. A smile cracked on your lips, the familiarity and comfort of the signal sitting in your chest.

"Come in." You called out, turning away from the mirror.

The door opened with a creak, and your polished husband stepped inside, a soft smile gracing his features.

"Husband." You greeted gently, meeting him halfway.

His arms wrapped around your waist and he pressed his forehead against yours, his quiet exhale a warm breeze on your face.

"My love. My pearl. My Venus. The light of my life. I never thought it true, but Cupid strikes me with an arrow anew every day. No words a poet could manage to write would be enough to describe how you reign over my heart, soul, and flesh."

His confession tumbled off his lips with ease, making your heart beat faster while the grip on your middle tightened.

Your hand went to cup his face, gently caressing his cheekbone.

"My heart. My sapphire. My Mars. The very air I breathe. The sight of you makes the affection spill between my ribs, and my lips ache for just one more kiss."

A soft huff left Leon before be pulled you in for a kiss so gentle, your bones were ready to melt beneath his touch. You hummed against his lips, a pleasant tingle crawling up your spine.

A firm hand slid up your back to rest between your shoulder blades, closing the distance.

To your dismay, he detached his mouth first, a chuckle leaving him at your protests.

"Why must you tease me so?" You pouted, fixing a stray lock of blond hair.

"I have no ill intent, I assure you. You're simply irresistible, my darling." He purred, nuzzling your neck, making you giggle.

"Alright, alright. Unfortunately, we have a ball to intend to, so your physical affections must wait, my love." You cooed, smoothing your hands down the lapels of his jacket.

"A shame indeed." He hummed, taking your hand and guiding it up to his face to press a kiss to your knuckles.

"However, I believe you were promised something." You spoke gently, stepping to the side to reveal your vanity where your jewels were laid out.

A pair of your shoes were sitting neatly beside the chair, waiting to be danced in. Leon's expression softened, and he pulled you after him.

"I do get to dress my pretty little doll after all, hm?" He smiled, dropping to one knee before you to guide your foot into your shoe.

His grip on your ankle was firm but gentle, leaving you to steady yourself with your hands on his shoulders. The second one went on just as easy.

Before he had a chance to stand back up, you pressed a peck to the top of his head. Leon's hands rested on your hips, his forehead falling against your stomach as he reveled in the tenderness of the moment.

A cloud of gentleness and love seemed to follow the both of you everywhere, leaving the world around you in a pink tint.

With a sigh he rose to his feet, stroking his knuckles down the side of your face with a sugary smile before stepping around you.

The dangling jewels that were your earrings were carefully secured to your lobe, a peck beneath each ear.

Lastly, the necklace he chose, rose quartz and pearls, was draped around your neck and fastened with the clasp before a kiss was placed at the base of your skull.

A gentle hand on your waist turned you to face him, an almost lovesick expression gracing his handsome features.

"Look at you, my angel. As pretty as ever." His words were soft, a quiet truth straight from his heart.

"You're too good to me." You chuckled, pressing one last kiss to his lips.

"The carriage must be ready by now. Shall we, darling?" You asked, resting your hand in the crook of his elbow.

He hummed, amused.

"Are you that eager to leave our little cocoon?" He teased, leading the way to the door.

You let out a soft laugh.

"Not quite. But... I have to show an entire noble society how handsome my husband is." You grinned cheekily, pulling him along while Leon was left laughing with a blush dusted across his cheeks, shaking his head at you.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

The carriage was dimly illuminated, throwing shadows on the intricate fabrics that cushioned the walls.

It was a bumpy ride, the wooden wheels of the vessel having to best rocks, loose cobblestone roads, and mud.

You were seated next to Leon, your hand in his while you occupied yourself with following the swirling pattern of the interior of the carriage.

He was quiet beside you, occasionally glancing out the small window. The rough calloused pads of his fingers traced the bones in your hand, gently caressing the skin.

"Look," Leon said with a small smile, pointing out of the window. "A pair of swans."

You followed his finger, getting up from your seated position and leaning over him while you marveled at the heartwarming picture before you.

"Aren't they precious! Oh, how lovely.." you sighed dreamily, watching as the two lovers swam into the sunset.

Your hand was planted on his shoulder, steadying yourself against the rocking of the carriage.

While you were busy marveling at the picturesque scene unfolding in front of you, Leon's eyes were glued to the glistening skin of your cleavage.

Your stays did wonders for your bosom, keeping them right in his line of sight.

He leaned in, gently nosing at your neck, taking in the irresistible smell of your perfume and of you.

His hands first grasped at your waist, pulling you onto his lap, your legs swung over his.

Your knees were almost up against the door as Leon held you sideways in his arms. You giggled softly, wrapping your arms around him, carding your fingers through the sandy curls at the base of his skull.

Your lover was busy breathing you in, brushing his lips against the exposed swell of your breasts, almost bewitched.

"You smell absolutely wonderful, my darling love..." he said lowly, the words a deep rumble in his throat.

"Yes? I'm wearing that new perfume you gifted me. I take it its gotten your approval?" You grinned slightly, running the pad of your thumb along his soft jawline.

Leon chuckled darkly, placing a firm hand around the back of your neck. The touch wasn't rough, no, it was gentle as always. A mere suggestion instead than a demand.

"You have no idea." He breathed, quickly guiding your head towards his, connecting your mouths in a feverish kiss.

You clutched at him anywhere you could, moaning against his lips. His teeth clashed with yours, your tongues dancing together in a familiar waltz of passion.

Leon hummed contently, reveling the taste of you on his tastebuds. You pulled back for air, panting softly while you cupped his cheek, smiling at him with your puffy lips. He cupped your chin and slightly turned your head towards him.

"You are the image of divinity." He said quietly, pupils blown, as if he were in a trance, caught in your spell.

Heat crawled up your neck onto your cheeks, dozens of butterflies hatching from their cocoons in the pit of your stomach.

"You flatter me far too much, my sweet." You chuckled, placing a soft kiss to his lips.

Leon groaned softly, the grip on your chin tightening slightly.

"There's no such thing." He smirked, snaking a hand up to the middle of your back and pressing you further into him.

Your playful eyeroll and any witty remark you would've made was cut short as his head dipped down to run his hot tongue over the curve of your breasts, pressing sloppy kisses to your soft skin.

A gasp caught in your throat, your hand flying to the back of his head to keep him right where he was. Soft moans and sighs fell from your lips while Leon gently sucked and licked your flesh.

The squealed when his teeth nipped at your tits, pulling him back with a firm grip on his hair.

"No marks, my love. You can't leave any- not now." You panted, your chest heaving.

Leon made a displeased sound, something akin to soft growl, before he looked back up at you.

"Later?"

You nodded hastily.

"When we get back, I'll gladly be your canvas. But I cannot show my face at such an event with lovebites all over my décolletage." You chuckled, resting your forehead against his.

He huffed, amused, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"I suppose you're right." He muttered, chasing your mouth for another kiss.

You moaned when you felt his hard cock through the fabric of his pants. Leon groaned, quickly helping you to straddle his lap.

The many layers of your gown were hiked up to your wide hips, draping across the entirety of his legs, covering them completely.

He reached between your plush thighs, dragging his fingers over your sopping wet slit. You were desperately trying to stay attached to his mouth, not knowing whether you wanted to be devoured whole or if you wanted to be the one to devour him.

Your breath hitched when the rough pads of his fingers caught on your sensitive clit, rubbing at the bundle of nerves. Your hips began moving on their own, craving the euphoric feeling of his fingers on your cunt.

"So wet..." he sighed into your mouth. He pulled away, breathless.

"May I be inside you? Please?" Leon asked, face flushed and chest heaving.

"Yes."

The word tumbled from your lips faster than you could think. He tugged his dick from his breaches and gave it a few strokes, your slick lubricating him perfectly.

The head of his cock nudged your hole, sending a spark up your spine, a whine ripping from your throat.

"Are you sure you want this, my pearl?" Leon asked softly, trying his best, but failing, to hide the desperate strain in his voice.

"If you do not get inside of me right this second-"

you began with a huff, cutting yourself off by kissing him once again.

He was startled, chuckling into your mouth before finally sinking inside of you. You mewled against eachother at the familiar feeling.

With a heavy fog of pleasure clouding your senses, you began moving, even just to hear that gasp that fell from Leon's lips just a moment later.

His hands gripped your hips to help you move but also to steady you. The carriage ride was rough and jolty, making you bounce on his lap.

Your arms were tightly wrapped around his neck as you cried out for him, the coil of bliss in your belly tightening.

"Oh, Gods, yes-!" You moaned, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

Leon was lost in pleasure as much as you were, groans and grunts ripping from his throat. You moved your hips up and down, back and forth, needing to feel every ridge and vein of his cock against your velveteen walls.

His thumb found its way between your bodies and your petticoats to rub at your clit just how you liked.

You melted at the sensation, a string of moans leaving you. Leon continued to move you up and down his dick, gently kissing your cheek. The dull ache in your thighs made you pause, simply sitting on him to take a breather.

He admired you, stroking his thumb along your jaw. The vessel was still shaking, hitting a rock or an uneven part of the road as you jolted in his lap, forcing his cock even deeper.

You yelped and fell against him, a high-pitched, strangled noise similar to mewl tumbling from your lips. Leon snorted, followed by a quick cackle.

"Oh, shut it!" You scolded, hitting his shoulder.

"Yes, Ma'am." He purred, shutting you up with another hungry kiss.

He began moving you again, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. His thumb stayed on your clit, his tongue licking into your mouth.

You gasped against his lips when the coil in your stomach kept on tightening. Leon pulled away from you to take a look at your face.

"Are you close?" He asked, panting, a hand cupping the back of your head.

You nodded quickly.

"Mhm-"

Leon leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

"Unravel for me, my darling. Come undone around me and sing your symphonies of bliss, my sweet songbird."

His whisper was sultry, however the strain and shake in his tone betrayed him.

You felt him twitch inside you, and with a last rock of the carriage and his thumb on your bundle of nerves, the coil snapped, and you came around him.

Your cunt clenched, gripping him like a vice. Your hands clutched him just as tightly while a moan of your name left him and he spilled inside of you, filling you up.

Your head fell to his shoulder, the euphoria of your high pumping in your veins. Your chests were heaving in sync, your bodies lax against one another. Leon pressed a kiss to your sweaty temple, fully wrapping his arms around you.

"Must we go to this ball?" You mumbled, your eyes falling shut.

He chuckled softly.

"I recall you being the one who insisted on dragging me out here."

You groaned but managed to sit yourself upright, only slightly whining at the feeling of his softening cock inside you. Your foreheads rested against eachother, a comfortable silence between the both of you.

"I hope you know that I'm utterly in love with you." Leon spoke quietly, not wanting to disturb such a peaceful moment.

You smiled, meeting his gaze.

"And I hope you know that you're the blood in my veins, the air I breathe, what gives me life." You replied softly, your hand cradling his face.

He smiled at you softly, his eyes filled with adoration.

"I love you, my Duchess."

"As do I, my Duke."

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Ah, yes.

Shit like this makes my heart and my pussy cry-

Anywayyyyy

I'm back!!! I think.... I just needed a break from the world for a little bit.

I can't promise I'll be posting a lot bc I'm fucking exhausted, but my goal is to be more active on here again (maybe accept some X-mas requests?👀)

Let me know what you think of Renaissance!Leon! 🩷

Where would you have a lil romp with him?

More Leon and others -> 💫

《Taglist》: @k-fallingstar @dmitriene @vampkennedy @allysunny @withonly-sweetheart @entr4p3 @leonslittlekennedy

Lmk if you want to be added <3

[dreamlandcreations]

The Illusionist AU

Illusionist!Alfie Solomons x Duchess!Reader

• moodboards masterlist •

[holy-puckslibrary]

━ 𝐀 𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐋

˗ˏˋ main masterlist ˎˊ˗

pairing(s) — pirate captain!ERIK KARLSSON x reader word count — 600

note — this is a snippet of a full AU (SO incredibly self-indulgent, btw) i’ve been playing with for a bit; lmk if you’d like to see more <33 also i am mortifyingly proud of this re-creation of the og poster + the moodboard dividers

recommended viewing — potc: the curse of the black pearl (2003), the superior peter pan (2003), and maybe a flip-through of the first book in barry and pearson’s series, peter and the starcatchers

bingo squares and additional content warnings under the cut.

bingo squares — stranger sex and CMNF additional content warnings — 18th century purity culture and oral (f receiving) 

CAPTAIN KARLSSON’S touch is assured and unhurried.

His weathered fingers are devoid of the girlish trembling that so plagues yours, thwarting any attempt to glean a bit of pleasure. As if your body were rejecting the sin outright.

Absent is the fear of being discovered by one of your maids or, heaven forbid, your lord father; your captain vowed any who dared to enter his quarters would be measured for the chains.

—and he had done so with his fingers idly exploring your untouched mouth. The very ones stroking the walls of your once-untouched cunt, your peak on the horizon.

You are finding it quite difficult to reconcile the desire you feel with the sight of the filthy scoundrel granting it to you. It would be confounding any evening, but none more than this, with your mind as murky as the sea rocking the ship.

What you do know with certainty is it feels infinitely better than your own hand, or the host of downy pillows bunched on your floor; the ornate bed frame your late mother imported slams against the wall otherwise. And you’re equally as sure your stern governess would have a conniption—as well as your head, if she were privy to the ease of your seduction.

The captain’s arms, a map of hardship and violence, curl around your bare thighs. The juxtaposition of his skin and yours is significant, and with his corded forearms tight to keep you still, the jagged scar that brands him an enemy is, for your rational mind, inescapable.

Your conscience burns as fiercely as the hearth in your belly.

His touch—a most lovely distraction indeed—reaches new depths, and your vision is ornamented with constellations of your very own.

Your hands clutch the edge of his stately desk so tightly that there’s sure to be dainty crescents imprinted in the varnish.

The captain spies your paled knuckles in his periphery and affords you a far better place to find purchase.

He groans into your heat when your fingers weave through his unruly mop and softly tug at the dark mane. The captain captures your gaze without slowing or ceasing his delicious torment.

A gentle redness has blossomed on his cheeks and the tip of his nose since you last glimpsed his handsome face; the mark of a pirate who drunk ardent spirits to excess.

But, it is your essence with which his lips glisten.

You are just as affected by the unforeseen thrum of vibration as you are by the knowledge that you have somehow managed to please him in any way, perhaps more so.

With his calloused palms, Captain Karlsson, the fabled King of the Pirates, draws you nearer. Your hips roll against his relentless suckling, all of which is presently concentrated on the sensitive spot a little north of your entrance— a pearl, he’d called it.

He divides his attention between sucking the gem swollen and tending to the pulsating hole below it with a broad, flat tongue. Too enraptured by his mouth, a wicked finger delves into your softness when you’re least expecting it.

A most indelicate sound fills the candlelit chamber. A lewd squelch unlike any noise you have yet to hear, from yourself or otherwise, wilts what little nerve you possess.

Aghast, both hands clamped over your mouth.

The heathen knelt between your parted thighs gives a hearty chuckle; that particular sensation must be exhilarating for a pretty, sheltered thing leading such a regimented life.

Perhaps, he shall keep you. To entertain his mind and warm his bed.

Nay, that be the rum talking.

It would seem he's loaded to the gunwales. 

You fail to see what amusement could possibly be found in such obscenity, so unbecoming of a lady of your station.

Captain Karlsson nips your inner thigh and grins.

“Don’t get shy on me now, Duchess.”

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[hoodiepandaninja16]

What if, now hear me out, what if fluff!John and angst!John switched places for that week...??

While angst!John is enjoying himself, and fluff!John is fucking miserable. Like he just locks himself in the study the whole week cause he can't stand it there.

THE ANGST HAS SO MUCH POTENTIAL!!!!

THE ANGST!!!!😩😫

The part where Duke John gets a nightmare of the angst au. Now I wanna see the angst duke to suffer. Hear me out, it’s different than dreaming, it’s angst John somehow possessing the body of fluff Duke John and getting to live with the version of him not driving reader to deep depression/running away and marrying her guard. He got to live in that reality for a week before he got violently pull back to his reality where reader is deeply depressed or had already run away and eloped with Konig.

The world felt wrong.

John Price woke up to the sound of birdsong filtering through sheer curtains, soft light spilling across the bed. The mattress dipped slightly, warmth pressed against his side- an unfamiliar yet achingly pleasant weight- like when he had his lovers pressed against him, yet none of them felt like this exact weight. When he opened his eyes, he saw you curled against him, face serene in sleep. His lovers were there, too, the big bed piled with bodies yet he couldn’t look away from you.

His breath hitched.

This wasn’t right.

The last thing he remembered was the suffocating darkness of his study- papers piled high, half-empty glasses of whiskey staining the surface, and the emptiness echoing in his chest where something- someone- had once resided. He remembered the guilt that choked him, the bitter taste of regret as he stood outside your bedroom door, too much of a coward to knock.

But now…

You stirred beside him, your lashes fluttering as you blinked up at him, sleepy and soft.

“John?” Your voice was honeyed with drowsiness, and God, the way you said his name- like it was safe, like he was safe.

He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe.

This wasn’t his life. Not the one he had shaped, sharp and cold.

You frowned then, pushing yourself up slightly. Your hand, so gentle, so devastatingly kind, pressed against his forehead. “You’re burning up. Did you sleep poorly again?”

Again?

Price swallowed, desperate to ground himself in this strange, impossible reality. His hands- calloused and rough, yet no longer trembling from whiskey and sleepless nights- caught your wrist, holding you still.

“You’re here.” He rasped, as though the words alone could make sense of this.

You tilted your head, confused but not wary. Not frightened of him.

“Of course I’m here, honey ” you said softly. “Where else would I be?”

He couldn’t answer. He couldn’t tell you about the other you, the hollowed-out ghost he had left behind. The you who no longer smiled, whose laughter had faded into echoes in the corridors of his cold, empty home.

Instead, he pulled you close.

And you let him.

The week that followed felt like a dream- so sweet it hurt, left cavities that rang hallow in his teeth.

John saw the life he had destroyed laid out before him as though mocking him. The version of himself that existed here- this other John- had not made the same mistakes.

Here, you were cherished.

The household bustled around you, every servant greeting you warmly and lingering just a moment longer to share kind words. Kyle hovered near you like a protective shadow, hands gentle as he helped you arrange flowers or carry boxes too heavy for you. Johnny teased you endlessly in the kitchens, offering bites of whatever new dessert he’d concocted until you laughed so hard you had to wipe away tears. Simon, so often stoic, let his guard down completely around you- offering quiet companionship during your walks and even indulging your requests to teach you to paint.

And John…

This John loved you openly.

He wasn’t burdened by guilt, wasn’t weighed down by regret. He touched you without hesitation, lingered at your side as though he couldn’t bear to leave you for even a moment.

It was agonizing.

Because the other John- the one trapped in this perfect, golden life- knew it wasn’t his.

And he knew it couldn’t last.

He clung to every moment, every stolen glance and touch, trying to memorize the sound of your laughter and the way your eyes softened whenever you looked at him. He tried to be the man this version of himself was, desperate to make up for the damage he had done in the life he came from.

But it wasn’t enough. Not when he knew this wasn’t real.

When it ended, it was abrupt.

One moment, he was laughing with you in the gardens, your hand in his as you plucked fresh herbs for dinner. The next, his vision swam- darkness rushing in, cold and sharp and suffocating.

And when he woke, it was to the dim light of his study and the stale taste of whiskey on his tongue, the scene familiar.

He sat up too fast, bile rising in his throat as the world swayed. His heart hammered wildly, panic and disbelief clawing at his chest.

No.

No, no, no.

“Duchess,” he croaked, shoving away from the desk. His limbs were heavy, stiff from disuse, but he didn’t care. He staggered to your bedroom, barely able to keep himself upright.

The door creaked when he opened it (it was locked hours ago, you must have snuck out to scavange for food), revealing a suffocating stillness inside. The curtains were drawn, but a sliver of moonlight cut through the crack, illuminating the shape of you curled up on the massive bed.

You looked so small. Achingly so.

John’s chest tightened painfully. His nightmare had come to life again- except now he knew it wasn’t just a dream. He’d lived it. He’d seen what could have been. And now this- this- was what he had done instead.

His knees hit the floor beside the bed.

“Duchess.” He whispered, barely able to say your title through the lump in his throat.

You didn’t move.

Terror gripped him. Were you even breathing? His shaking hand hovered above your shoulder before gently pressing against it.

“Love. Please.”

You stirred, a soft noise escaping your lips as you turned your head just enough for him to see the faint outline of your face. John sucked in another breath, but the sound caught when he saw the dark smudges beneath your eyes. The way your lips looked chapped.

The dullness in your gaze when it finally met his, even clouded by sleep.

“…John?” Your voice cracked, raspy from likely crying your tender little heart out.

God, he hated himself.

“Yes, sweetheart,” he choked, his hands trembling as he touched your face. “Yes, I’m here. I’m here, I swear.”

You flinched. Just slightly, but he felt it.

It shattered him. John didn’t let go, though. He couldn’t- not when you felt so fragile beneath his touch. His thumbs brushed over your cheeks, wiping away tears he hadn’t even realized had started falling.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m so- God, I’m so sorry, love.”

You blinked slowly, as if trying to understand. “What… what are you doing here?”

“I should’ve been here the whole time.” His voice was raw, thick with guilt and grief. “I should’ve- should’ve never let it get this bad. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I can’t-”

You flinched again, and he fell silent. When you turned away from him, curling in on yourself, his heart nearly gave out.

“Please,” he begged. “Please don’t shut me out. I’ll fix this. I’ll fix everything- I swear it, I’ll never- never let it get like this again.”

“You don’t- ” Your voice wavered, cracking. “You don’t even like me, John.”

The words pierced him deeper than any blade ever could.

“That’s not true.”

“It is.”

“No,” he said fiercely, climbing into the bed beside you without thinking. You stiffened, but he wrapped his arms around you anyway, pulling you against his chest. “No, it’s not true. I do like you- I care about you so much, and I’ve been a fool. I’ve been the worst husband you could’ve ever had, but I swear to you- on my life- that changes now.”

Your breath hitched. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not,” he murmured into your hair, pressing trembling kisses against your temple. “I’m not lying. I swear it. You’re my wife. My duchess. And I will spend every single day proving to you that you’re precious to me. I’m so sorry, Duchess. I shouldn’t have treated you like that. I should’ve never allowed anyone, even my lovers, to treat you like that. I’m so sorry.”

The sob that broke from you nearly killed him, but you didn’t push him away. Instead, your fingers clutched weakly at his shirt, and he held you even tighter.

“I’ll fix it,” he swore again, rocking you gently as you weeped against his chest. “I’ll make this right. I’ll protect you from everything- even from myself, if I have to. Just don’t leave me. Don’t give up on me yet.”

The tears didn’t stop for a long time. But by the time your breathing evened out and your fingers loosened their grip, John knew.

He had another chance.

And he would never, ever waste it again.

[rafesplaymate]

I can’t wait for your wolf of Wall Street au. I know you’re gonna eat that shit up!🫶🏼

thank you my baby! i promise im working on it!

[tessxblxckthorn]

whenever i’m happy i think about the fact that obi-wan literally lost everyone he cared about and then i’m not happy anymore… at all. and yes, you have to suffer with me! :))

[elysianightsss]

I BURN FOR YOU | MASTERLIST

Pairing | Duke Simon Riley x reader

Summary | Your parents and Simon’s arrange for the two of you to be betrothed against your will. Simon is away when all of this happens and when he’s back it’s already his wedding day. Your families have agreed if, when the London Season finishes in three months, your feelings remain unchanged for one another, you may separate. Simon never planned on getting married to anyone, and he certainly never planned on falling in love either.

Tags | Regency era au, arranged marriage, Simon being a douchebag, Simon being his grumpy self, panic attack, Simon slowly becoming sweet, smut, virgin reader, butler Johnny, slow burn, fluffy, angst.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Fin

Divider credits - @cafekitsune

Inspired by I Burn For You audio by GEDaudio and Bridgeton

Taglist | @watyousayin @corvusmorte @callmecurious97 @lilynotdilly @lunamoonbby @xheera @captainsarcasmandsass @c1garette-nightmares @myspaceisra @lucinda-reads @emmylous-world @svnh6021 @lucifers-demonic-breast-milk @alucardsdaddyissues @fruitymoonbeams-blog @stupid-little-birdie @misscaller06 @vivanlasbaleadas @softangxlicss @sozainturpal @3-opossums-in-a-ballgown @aninnai @itsmeamysworld @weewee1 @blackhawkfanatic @ry-kage @madsthree @iamtoriasworld

[callsign-rogueone]

the twins

Brennan Sorrengail x f!reader (Duchess!) words: 1.7k 🏷: just some little scraps I have of Bren and Duchess before the arrival of their sweet twin mini Brennan’s. set in the happily ever after that we are absolutely going to get in book 5 or beyond. mentions of pregnancy, and the boys being born a little early. it’s implied that there were complications with the birth in the last scene, but it’s not described in detail or shown at all. and Brennan came to the rescue, like always 🧡

“What is up with you guys today? Do I smell like sheep or something?” you ask as another dragon comes up to sniff you, the fourth this morning.

“No,” the green swordtail answers, sounding amused. “Not that.”

“Then what?”

“I believe you humans call it being with child,” another says slyly.

“What?”

This shouldn’t be a surprise to you, given the frequency with which you and Brennan have been… trying, but you definitely weren’t expecting to hear it now, from the riot.

“You’ve been mated for five years now. It was about time, considering how short you humans’ lives are.”

Are they really calling you old right now?

“Congratulations,” Ban says warmly, sounding like she’s known for a while now. “The mender will be pleased.”

He definitely will be, considering that this whole thing had been his idea, that he’d been the one to sweet-talk you into it, to stop taking the tonic and let nature run its course. But how are you going to tell him, and when? What does this mean for your roles in Tyrrendor’s army and in caring for the riot?

“I was wondering where you were.”

You jolt in surprise, your heart jumping, and the tiny shock has one of the dragons stepping forward, ready to defend you. 

“He’s her mate, you imbecile.”

“Oh.”

You laugh, pulling Brennan into an embrace. “Hi, love.”

“They’re in rare form today,” he says, still eyeing some of them with apprehension.

“Rare indeed,” you agree quietly. 

His forehead creases, that cute look of confusion on his face. “Why are you looking like me at that?”

You won’t tell him now, even though you want to — you’ll have the healers confirm it first. Not that you don’t trust the riot, of course, you add down the bond. But they’d be able to better guess how far along you are, and if you’re progressing healthily.

“Can’t a woman admire her husband?” you ask, bringing a hand up to rest over his heart. 

There’s another look you know and love — his eyebrows raise, a sly smile curving his lips. “She can.”

“After the meeting,” you answer before he can ask. “I couldn’t look Xaden in the eye for days after we were late to the last one.”

“After the meeting,” he agrees, putting a hand on top of yours. There’s a barely-audible hum as your rings come into contact, the connection runes in them satisfied with your proximity. 

You don’t plan on leaving his side any time soon — and he likely won’t want you to, either. He’d likely become so much more protective, knowing the news. You're honestly a little excited to see what he'll be like, the extra care he'd take of you...

You’ll see the healers tomorrow, you decide, while he’s busy researching with Violet. Today, you’ll just go about your day, content to keep your secret. 

—————————

Now seems as good a time as ever — it’s the end of the day, your work set aside for the evening in favor of finally resting, taking the time to unwind. 

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for you to be done brushing your teeth and doing your skincare, so he can wrap you up in his arms and keep you there all night, where nothing and no one can hurt you. 

You move to stand in front of him, tilting his head up with a gentle hand on his jaw. He nuzzles his cheek into your palm, leaning into your touch, letting his eyes fall closed.

“You’re going to be such an excellent father, my love,” you say softly, brushing your thumb over his cheekbone.

He smiles, but he looks like he doesn’t quite follow, he isn’t sure why you’re bringing this up now — and then his eyes snap open in realization. “Wait, really?”

You can’t keep the grin off your face. “Really.”

He wraps his arms around your waist, hugging you tightly, but not too tightly, laying his head over your heart. You bring a hand up, idly working your fingers into the short hair at the back of his neck. "If it's a boy, I hope he looks just like his daddy," you say quietly.

He pulls back, making you giggle at the insulted look on his face. "Are you saying that you chose me for my looks?"

"Not just for your looks," you answer, "but they definitely helped."

You squeak as the hands he's had resting on your back move to your waist, tickling the exposed skin between your shirt and shorts. "Not fair!"

He scoops you up with an arm under your knees, settling you into his lap. "All is fair in love and war."

You lean forward, still a little breathless, your nose brushing his. "I suppose so."

"Now," he murmurs, "if you'll let me, I'd like to thank you properly."

—————————

You rub your hands across your face, shaking your head to clear it. “What were you saying?”

He’s still looking at you with an expression you can’t quite place. “You’re gorgeous,” he says softly.

You look up at him, still not quite all there.

“I mean it, my love, you’re stunning. Walking around in that uniform, carrying my baby,” he breathes, settling his hands on your hips and pulling you forward ever-so-gently. His thumbs stroke over the material of your flight pants, toward your stomach.

You are quite the sight. The sleek black uniform has your shared name stitched onto it — no longer Aisereigh, but Sorrengail now, since you’d both come out of hiding in Aretia — and you’ve got that glow to you that people always talk about, your skin bright and clear, hair soft and shiny, lose from its usual intricate updo, instead tied back by a scrap of silk ribbon. 

“Smell divine, too,” he adds, pressing his lips to the side of your neck, his beard tickling the skin.

You giggle. “Who’s the hormonal one now?”

“Can’t help it,” he says between kisses. “Gods, I want to keep you like this forever. My gorgeous wife, my Duchess, mother of my children…”

“Children, plural?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, this is just the beginning,” he replies, entirely serious. “Two more to go after this.”

“Two more?” you echo, laughing. “You want three?”

“Or as many as you’ll give me,” he says with a sly smile. “But three would be perfect.”

You raise your eyebrows in challenge. “Oh, yeah? The commander in chief of Tyrrendor’s army is going to be leading assembly meetings with a toddler on each knee?”

“Absolutely,” he answers, and you know he means it. “They’re coming with me everywhere.”

—————

“Bren?” you murmur, reaching across the mattress for him.

“Right here, my love,” he soothes, taking your hand and gently stroking his thumb over your knuckles. “you’re okay, and so are our boys.”

You blink, processing his words. The last thing you remember was him carrying you down here, and all the blood… how long ago was that? How does he know you’re having boys?

It hurts his heart to see the look on your face, the sleepy confusion he’s seen in so many patients as a consequence of the sedation, combined with the delicate condition you’d been in from the blood loss.

There’s a soft cry from across the room, and that seems to snap you out of your haze— motherly instinct, maybe. You push through the fog to sit up, looking toward the sound.

“Easy,” he soothes, helping prop you up with a pillow behind your back.

The babe settles as soon as he’s held in his father’s arms, not minding the delicate movement of Brennan laying him down on your chest.

You’ve never held anything this carefully in your life, never seen a baby this tiny. That stands to reason — the pair of them had been born nearly a month early.

You can already tell both of them going to look exactly like Brennan, with their slight dustings of auburn hair and the shape of their noses. They probably have his eyes, too, but they’re shut, resting.

“Hi my loves,” you whisper down to them, in awe. “Oh, they’re perfect.”

“They are,” he agrees quietly, settling down on the edge of the bed beside you, the other twin in his arms.

Yours makes a soft sound like a yawn, a tiny hand moving to rest over your heart.

There’s a moment of quiet, guilt starting to seep through the cracks. “How long has it been?” You ask in a whisper.

He glances up at the clock. “About eight hours since I brought you downstairs.”

That makes this close to midnight. When had they been born? How long had it taken you to wake up?

“I don’t remember any of it,” you say quietly. “I should remember my own children being born, but it feels like it was all a dream that I’ve already forgotten.”

You lay a hand on your stomach, realizing you’ve already been mended back to normal, leaving no sign of your body ever having held your children. You feel… hollow.

“Hey,” he coaxes, “I don’t want you to blame yourself for a second. You did everything right. You carried them and helped them grow for eight months, and they’re perfectly healthy. The healers and I chose to do what was safest for the three of you.”

You nod, closing your eyes to fight back the tears and resting your head on his shoulder. “You’re right. I know you’re right. But it still hurts.”

“I know,” he says softly, stroking your hair. “I know.”

There’s another moment of comfortable quiet, the four of you relaxing into each other’s embraces.

You still need to name them, you realize. “Naolin and Asher,” you say quietly, looking up at your husband. “For the two men that gave you life.”

He leans forward, still carefully cradling his twin, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Naolin Liam and Asher Xaden. For your brothers.”

“I like that,” you say softly. “I like that a lot.”

“The question is, which one is which,” he says with a soft chuckle.

You smile. “I have a feeling that’s going to be the question for the rest of our days, my love.”

[sassatoru]

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗗𝗨𝗖𝗛𝗘𝗦𝗦 𝗢𝗙 𝗛𝗘𝗟𝗟'𝗦 𝗞𝗜𝗧𝗖𝗛𝗘𝗡 - 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵. 𝘰𝘯𝘦

prev / next | masterlist

pairing. batfam x batsis!reader + platonic!matt murdock x batsis!reader

warnings. swearing, child neglect, mentions of an accident that makes you blind, canon/typical violence, nothing goes with comics, OOC matt murdock

wc. 1.2k

Jason had disappeared again, where to, no one knew. All that you had been told was he and Bruce had another one of their many fights, this time it had gotten physical.

You had only found out weeks after his disappearance. Having been in New York for the last two weeks.

You were amused to find out that he hadn’t actually left Gotham, instead he was sitting across from you munching down his burger, the sounds made were disgusting and you thanked whatever God out there that you couldn’t see it.

You listened with a smile as your older brother rambled on about how pissed off he was at Bruce, your unseeing eyes hidden behind a pair of tinted circular glasses.

The glasses were new, not the fact you were wearing them, just the fact that instead of them bearing the usual black tint you often wore it was now a dark purple.

Jason was the only sibling you confided in with your newest secret, a new name whispered amongst Gotham crooks and villains. He was against it at first, completely against it but when he saw you fight finally. His mind was changed.

If you learnt this much in two weeks, what could you do if you had two months. Or two years?

Jason wouldn’t this but he could see the Bruce in you, how quickly and how resilient you were becoming. Someone who could match the Batman in skill despite not having sight, he’d stick by to help you figure all that stuff out.

So for now Jason would support your decision, help you from behind the computer for now until he’d be ready to come back as Red Hood. But for now he could settle with lunch dates with his little sister during the day and helping you kick ass during the night.

“So, you going back to New York so this Murdock guy can train you more?” Jason asked with a mouth full of burger and you grimaced at the sound of his chewing.

“I might not if I’m going to be hearing your chewing in more detail from now on.” You grumbled, reaching out for your milkshake. Jason snorted in response, swallowing down his food.

“You can hear that?” He asks intrigued.

You only nodded in response, before shrugging. “‘S not much. Matt can heat heartbeats, but he said if i continue focusing and blocking out noises I don’t need to hear I’ll get there soon enough.”

Jason nodded along, you assumed by the sound of hair ruffling.

“So what can you hear so far?” He asked.

“Breathing, chewing, things far away sometimes, i can hear more sometimes and then other times i can’t hear anything at all.”

Jason hums, pausing to watch you, “you look happier.” He blurts out, “i mean compared to how you were, stashed away in the manor.”

You hide your smile behind the milkshake and Jason smiles, “I’m glad.”

———

“Breathe,” Matt instructs, hands on your shoulders. “Focus on his heartbeat, ignore mine, find him.”

Your breathing evens out, and Matt can hear your heart slow down, relaxing from your earlier training as you tried to find the heartbeat of the other man in the room. “I can’t—” you try to complain.

“Do it,” Matt repeats, “focus.”

Then you hear it, another heartbeat echoing through your ears coming from your, “left.” You mutter and Matt grins, ruffling the top of your head.

“That’s creepy,” Peter’s voice calls out, “it’s like there’s two of you now.” His footsteps get closer, stopping right in front of you.

“I should properly introduce the two of you,” Matt says. “Peter this is y/n Wayne. Kid, this is Peter Parker, he’s Spider-Man.”

"Spider-man?" You snorted, "what, were there no other names available?"

Peter groaned, crossing his arms like a pouty child. "Shut up," he grumbled.

"breaks over," Matt calls out and now its your turn to groan, all morning since you got back to New York he's been training you.

Starting with sitting silently in one place and picking out quieter sounds and now you were training to fight more.

Because no way in hell was Matt going to let you fight freely in Gotham city without further extensive training. So for now, you were getting your ass handed to you, and it sucked.

———

Bruce started at the screens in front of him, the sound of his youngest sons sparing in the background didn’t phase him, he was getting irritated with the new presence in Gotham. Some newbie calling themselves Duchess, a who had never crossed paths with him by some miracle.

actually it seemed every time Bruce arrived on scene, the Duchess just disappeared, as if she had some sixth sense for him. There was limited footage of her too, just little blurs of shitty CCTV cameras of a girl with a bandana tied around her eyes and in full black. Hands wrapped in black bandages, any distinguished features covered up, leaving the possibilities of her identity to thousands of candidates.

The only other thing Bruce had on her being her constant travel between Gotham and New York, specifically Hell’s Kitchen. But he got no leads from there, other than the Duchess being in cahoots with the Daredevil and his allies.

So, after hours of analysing footage, names and failing to hack into SHEILD’s servers, the only thing Bruce had gotten was that this Duchess being; female and lives in Gotham or New York.

“Nothing?” Dick’s voice comes from beside him, arms crossed as he leans back against the desk, sweating as he had just returned from patrol with Cass and Steph.

Bruce grunts in response and Dick takes it as a yes, “damn.” He mutters with a sigh, “well I’m heading home. I need sleep and I have work in the morning,” Dick says, stretching his arm, patting his shoulder as he heads up the stairs and out of the cave.

Was he actually heading home? No. He was off to do his own investigation about this Duchess. Hopefully he’d actually find something.

———

Navigating Gotham was easy when you had the heartbeats of the people who you want to avoid memorised. But New York? Not so easy, the streets were louder, busier, people walked around freely and not in quiet groups armed with knives to avoid being attacked.

At first the noises were overwhelming to your senses, but overtime you had learnt how to block out certain sounds, like cars, random clicking, rats, water, the unimportant things. And the noise became more bearable, you could tell the difference between human heartbeats and animal ones.

“This way,” Matt spoke, jumping over building to building with you following closely behind.

He had talked about getting you a suit made but until then the outfit you had on currently would do fine. The sounds of Peter’s webshooters were in the background, “are you sure about this? I mean she’s still new to this, taking her out on patrol might be a bad idea.” Peter spoke, trying to be a voice of reason.

“I’m sure,” Matt says his voice distorted due to the sound of an explosion in the background, the smell of smoke filling your noses.

“That can’t be good,” you mutter, nose scrunching at the smell.

“Definitely not,” Peter nods in agreement before the three of you head over towards the scene.

—tbc

© e-nonsense. do no copy/steal/translate. do it and I’ll bite your toes off

[sunnypopoki]

COMING SOON . . .

𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐍 | 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐦 𝐱 𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ᴾᴼᴾᴼᴷᴵ

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

❝𝐈 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐚𝐝𝐲.❞

SYNOPSIS: — Y/N wanted her arranged husband dead. Who could blame her? After she was forced to marry the Grand Duke, she knew that she'd live a miserable life, especially if it meant being tethered to him til the end of her days. So she started to make a plan. A sinister plan to kill him, his close friends, and topple his empire of fame to the ground. If she wasn't allowed to have rights, why should they? But it was easier said than done... because unbeknownst to her, three men would do anything to appease her.

TAGS: — | ᴅᴀʀᴋ ʀᴇᴠᴇʀꜱᴇ ʜᴀʀᴇᴍ | ᴠɪʟʟᴀɪɴᴇꜱꜱ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ʀᴇᴠᴇɴɢᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ | ᴇᴠɪʟ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏɴʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ | ꜰᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ |

For more updates and sneak peeks (plus the early access to chapter one) . . . check out my discord server.

artist: unknown — found: pinterest

[dante-mightdie]

I can’t stop imagining how Duchess open up, like after many nights sleeping separatedly, and after seeing Simon changing and have some dream about it, I can’t help but think when Duchess finally made up her mind. She would dress in the nightgown she found most confortable but also seductive enough to show off her beautiful cleavage and soft waist, standing in front of Duke’s chamber.

And boy how he has to hold himself back when he saw his shy wife standing in front of the door looking so ravishing…

he knows exactly what you’re there for the second he sees your blown out pupils, fingers tangled nervously in your nightgown. unsure of what to ask for, how to ask for it

“ask me nicely, duchess. ask me for it in tha’ sweet voice of yours…”

his hand on your throat, not squeezing. just holding you steady, holding you in his claim. maybe he squeezes a little just to hear you squeak…

[uhzuku]

‘reader is a named oc’ then they are not a ‘reader’, bestie, they are an oc. there’s nothing wrong with ocs. but please for the love of god stop mistagging them as ‘x reader’.

[simp4eshal]

Ballroom

Count Vronsky x poc!reader/OC(Arabella Von Jaga) (but she's mostly reader i just felt more comfortable giving her a name)

warnings: obsessive behavior, angst ??, smut, yearning, fluff, lemme know if i forgot something

In the dimly lit study of his opulent manor, Count Vronsky paced restlessly. His eyes burned with an intensity that betrayed his turmoil of emotions. It had been months since he had last laid eyes on her, months of sleepless nights and restless days spent yearning for the touch of her skin, the taste of her lips. His heart ached with a longing so powerful it threatened to consume him whole. She was his obsession, his raison d'être, and he would stop at nothing to make her his. Her name was Arabella, and she was the only thing that mattered in his world.

He paused before a large mirror, running his fingers through his unruly hair, trying to tame the wild beast that had taken over his appearance. His once-handsome face now bore the telltale signs of his all-consuming passion: dark circles ringed his eyes, his skin was pale and sallow, and his muscles were taut with unspent energy. Even his once-elegant attire seemed to reflect his inner turmoil, wrinkled and askew.

He could no longer deny it; he was losing his grip on reality. His thoughts were consumed with her, and his actions had become increasingly desperate. He had tried to fill the void with other women, but it was futile. They were but pale imitations of the one he truly loved. Arabella was his sun, his moon, his stars, and without her, he was nothing but a shadow of his former self.

Determined to take matters into his own hands, Vronsky gathered his most trusted servants and issued a decree. He would hold a grand ball in her honor, an extravaganza the likes of which the kingdom had never seen. The invitations were to be sent out far and wide, to every corner of the land, inviting everyone who was anyone to attend. The catch was that the ball would be by invitation only, and the only invitation that truly mattered would be in Arabella's hands.

For weeks, Vronsky's servants worked tirelessly to prepare the manor for the event, transforming it into a veritable wonderland of opulence and excess. Intricate tapestries hung from the ceilings, gleaming chandeliers cast their warm light across polished marble floors, and towering floral arrangements adorned every available surface. A full orchestra was hired to play throughout the night, their haunting melodies weaving in and out of the revelry.

As the appointed day finally dawned, Vronsky paced anxiously before the grand entrance, his heart hammering in his chest. He had spared no expense, had left no stone unturned, and yet he couldn't help but feel that it wasn't enough. He longed for her to be there, to see the depth of his devotion, to feel the weight of his obsession.

Dusk fell, and the first guests began to arrive, their opulent attire casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the ballroom. Ladies in shimmering gowns and gentlemen in finely tailored suits mingled amidst the fountains of champagne, their laughter and conversation filling the air. The orchestra played on, the music swirling around them like a living thing, weaving a seductive spell that enraptured everyone within earshot.

Vrronsky paced restlessly, his gaze darting about the room, searching for any sign of her. His heart felt as though it were being squeezed in a vise, the anticipation almost unbearable. He had invited every eligible bachelor and bachelorette in the kingdom, hoping that one of them might know where she was, might have heard a rumor or seen her somewhere. But so far, there was no sign of her.

Hours passed, and the ball reached its zenith. The guests, their appetites whetted by the endless feast and flowing champagne, had begun to let loose, dancing wildly to the orchestra's stirring melodies. Vrronsky, however, could not join in their revelry. His focus remained fixed on the grand entrance, willing it to swing open and reveal her.

As midnight approached, he grew desperate. He had to know if she would come, if she would accept his invitation. He spotted a servant hurrying across the ballroom and beckoned him over. The servant, out of breath from running, bowed low. "My lord, a messenger has arrived with a note for you." Vronsky snatched the envelope from the servant's trembling hand, his heart racing. With shaking fingers, he tore it open.

The note was brief, but it was all he needed to hear. In her delicate script, she had accepted his invitation, promising to attend the ball. He read it over and over again, the words losing their meaning as tears of relief and joy streamed down his face. He could feel the weight of his obsession lifting from his shoulders, a lightness in his chest that he hadn't experienced in years.

With renewed vigor, he rejoined the revelry, laughing and dancing with the other guests. He scarcely noticed the envious glances that were directed his way, for he was no longer concerned with the opinions of others. All that mattered was that she was coming, and soon she would be in his arms once more.

As the night wore on, the ball reached its climax. The orchestra struck up a new, haunting melody, and Vronsky could feel a shiver of anticipation run down his spine. He glanced at the grand entrance, willing it to swing open and reveal her. Suddenly, a hush fell over the crowd, and all eyes turned towards the entrance. There, framed by the doorway, stood Arabella, resplendent in a gown of shimmering emerald silk that clung to her curves like a second skin. Her hair was pulled back into an elegant chignon, revealing the long, dainty column of her neck. She held a single red rose in one hand, its thorns glinting in the candlelight.

Vronsky's heart skipped a beat as he saw her, and he felt a surge of relief wash over him. She had come. She had accepted his invitation. With a graceful smile, she glided across the ballroom, her eyes never leaving his. As she drew closer, he could see the love and devotion reflected in her gaze, and he knew that she felt it too. They met in the center of the room, and without a word, they began to dance.

The music seemed to fade into the background as they moved together, their bodies in perfect sync. Their hands entwined, their fingers interlaced, and Vronsky felt as though he had found his anchor in the world once more. He could feel her heart beating against his chest, and the sensation was intoxicating. She leaned into him, her cheek resting against his shoulder, and he could feel her breath hot against his skin.

The other dancers seemed to fade away, leaving them alone in their own private universe. Time itself seemed to lose all meaning as they moved together, lost in the music and in each other. Their every touch was electric, every movement full of promise and passion. They danced until the orchestra had finished its final song, until the ballroom was empty and the candles had all burned down to stubs.

Finally, with a deep sigh, Vronsky lowered Arabella back onto the parquet floor and stepped back, his heart racing. She looked up at him with a mixture of exhaustion and contentment, her cheeks flushed from the exertion and the heat of their embrace. "Thank you," she breathed, her voice barely audible above the sound of their labored breathing. "That was... that was perfect."

He smiled down at her, his eyes taking in every detail of her face. Her lips were still slightly parted, her eyes shining with a mix of passion and desire. "I love you," he murmured, brushing a stray hair from her forehead. "You are my world, my reason for living."

Their gazes locked, and for a moment, they stood there, lost in each other. Then, slowly, Vronsky bent down and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was tender at first, a gentle exploration of each other's mouths, before growing more passionate. Their bodies were pressed tightly together, and he could feel her respond to his touch, her hips grinding against his.

With a groan, he swept her up into his arms, carrying her across the ballroom and into his private chambers. The candles flickered against the walls, casting soft shadows as he laid her down on the bed. She arched her back as he trailed his fingers down her neck and over her breasts, helpless and full of desire at the same time.

Their kiss deepened, becoming more urgent as they tore off each other's clothes. Vronsky kicked off his shoes and shucked out of his trousers, revealing his aroused length. He positioned himself between her legs, feeling her hot, wet folds against his skin. With a growl, he pushed forward, burying himself inside her. She cried out in pleasure, her fingernails digging into his shoulders as he began to move, driving deep inside her with each thrust.

Her body arched off the bed, meeting his each stroke with a grinding of their hips. Their sweat-slick skin slapped together in a rhythm that grew faster and more frenzied. The air was thick with the scent of their arousal, and the candlelight flickered against the walls, casting shadows that danced across their entwined forms.

As they moved together, lost in the intensity of their passion, Vronsky felt a building pressure deep within him. His thrusts became more urgent, more desperate, as he struggled to find release. He felt her body tense beneath him, her muscles clenching tight around him, and with a hoarse cry, she shuddered violently in his arms. Her inner walls gripped him tight, and he felt himself spill inside her, his climax overwhelming him in a wave of pleasure.

He collapsed on top of her, their sweat-slick bodies sticking together, his weight pinning her down. For a moment, they lay there, catching their breath, their hearts racing. Then, slowly, Vronsky rolled off of her, their entwined limbs separating with reluctance. He looked down at Arabella, her cheeks flushed and her chest heaving, and felt a surge of love and possession course through him.

"You are my everything," he murmured, trailing his fingers down her stomach and over her hip. "My reason for living, my reason for breathing. No matter what happens, I will always be yours."

Her eyes fluttered open, and she smiled up at him. "And I will always be yours," she whispered, her voice still husky from their passion. "Forever."

Vronsky felt a shiver of possessiveness run down his spine at her words. He leaned in, pressing their foreheads together, and breathed in the sweet, feminine scent that clung to her skin. "You are mine, and I will never let you go," he murmured, his voice a low growl. "No one else will ever have you."

Their eyes locked, and he could see the heat of desire burning in her gaze. She reached up, tracing a finger down the line of his jaw, her touch sending shivers through his body. "I belong to you, Alexei" she whispered, her voice trembling. "I always have, and I always will."

[rafesplaymate]

we still need the wolf of wallstreet au queen 😔🩷

it’s coming i promise!!! i’ve just been struggling with the mood boards UGHHHH

[elysianightsss]

I BURN FOR YOU | PART ONE

Simon’s heavy footsteps echo in your ears, the floor boards of the church creaking as he walked. At least he was courteous enough to help you into the carriage, you thought as you grabbed onto his large glove covered outstretched hand letting him guide you inside before getting in himself and sitting on the plump cushion seating opposite you.

The footman closed the door just as your families came out to throw flower petals and wave you off. The sight of them so happy made you more glum than this whole day had.

“Well that was a dreadfully boring ceremony.” Simon quipped, leaning his head back as the carriage started moving. Your gaze did not move from your parents, their smiles made you grimace.

“It’s rather sad that I couldn’t be entertained at my own wedding. Wouldn’t you agree wife?” The man across from you had almost snarled out the word wife.

You simply roll your eyes at him, something he does not take kindly to.

“If I had been in the country when this was all being arranged, I could’ve stopped this from ever happening in the first place. I wouldn’t be shackled down in this ridiculous sham of a marriage!” He snaps, the scar on his chin that goes right through his lips and stops at his Cupids bow, moves with each word he spits your way, fire in his eyes as he does so.

“Trust me the feelings mutual.” You scoff, snapping back at him.

“Oh, I’m well aware wife. I could tell as much as soon as I lifted your veil and saw the scowl on your face.” He chuckles with no humour, it’s dark and unnerving causing you to shift in your seat. “How fortunate I am to have such a beautiful bride” The sarcasm drips from his lips in a way that makes your blood boil but you manage to bite your tongue even if he seems unable to.

“Even when he’s dead, my bastard father still finds ways to meddle in my life. Arranging a marriage behind my back, of all things.” The leather of his gloves squeak when his fists tighten in anger.

“Well, it’s no matter. As long as we pretend for the next three months, we shall be free to live our lives separately once the London Season ends, per our families’ agreement. It should not be too difficult to accomplish such a task, will it wife?” Simon raises an eyebrow but yet somehow manages to keep the scowl on his face.

“No. Husband.” You say through gritted teeth.

He is thankfully silent for the next half an hour, and again he does help you out of the carriage when you arrive outside the manor that is now your home. You gaze up at the structure with awe, it was much bigger than your old home though your father was a Baron and Simon was a Duke.

“I’m leaving the grand tour of the estate to the housekeeper. Oh and do try to remember where everything is, I won’t be walking you to your bedroom each night, wife.” He says briskly as he walks passed you and ascends the stairs.

He pauses, snapping his fingers like he’s forgotten something before shooting over his shoulder at you, “Sleep well, dear wife. I do so look forward to seeing what excitement our marriage brings. I’ll see you bright and early for breakfast tomorrow!” He hollers back at you and so swiftly disappears inside.

“Not on your life.” You mumble to yourself, scoffing at his audacity. “What an insensitive, intolerable arse.” You sigh sitting down on the steps of your new home. You gaze out at the beautiful gardens. The night sky full of stars and a chill had set in, a sign that winter wasn’t far away.

“Excuse me Your Grace.” Looking up from where you had been admiring the patch of red tulips off to your right, you met eyes with a welcome smile.

“I am Johnny, the housekeeper. I run the house and keep all the staff in check. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance Duchess.” You smile softly at him and with his help you stand from where you were on the cold steps.

“The pleasure is mine Johnny. I didn’t think there would be a kind soul here given the master of the house but it appears I am mistaken.” Johnny coughs to cover up his laugh but his smile remains.

“Allow me to escort you to your room, Your Grace, you must be exhausted after the day you’ve had.” His Scottish accent soothed you as he held his arm out for you to take. Hooking your arm with his, you let Johnny guide you inside the manor. The decor and architecture was pleasant on the eyes and by the looks of it very expensive.

Johnny leads you up the grand staircase and into the west wing where he pushed open a cream coloured door to reveal your bedroom. The room was large and painted a dark blue, the four poster bed was the biggest bed you’d ever seen in your life. The fireplace opposite the bed was lit, the wood burning nicely and crackling away creating a lovely atmosphere.

Further in just after the bed were two reading chairs facing the large window, you gaze out of it seeing the very same garden you were looking at before. Except the red tulips were right below you and from here you could see the large pond and the stables.

“Through there are your belongings.” Johnny said, pointing to the door just to the right of the bed, behind you. You had quite forgotten he was there but managed not to show how you flinched at his voice.

You nodded, “I can dress myself for bed, please do not disturb the maids. I wish to sleep now.” You communicated trying to sound as soft as you could.

“Of course Your Grace, I bid you goodnight.” Johnny bowed and left the room, closing the door behind him leaving you all alone. You’re just glad it wasn’t dark in your room. Getting changed out of your layered wedding dress and into your nightdress was a task and a half but you feel accomplished as you crawled into the large bed and snuggled down for sleep.

You are woken up bright and early just as your husband had said. Your maids got you bathed, dressed, and downstairs for breakfast in record time.

Your husband was already inside the dining room, a newspaper in his hand and a cup of tea in the other. He acknowledged you with a good morning but you only nodded back to him and sat down in your seat at the other end of the long, seats fourteen, table. Opposite one another, yet so far away.

A layer of awkwardness settled upon the moment with cutlery scratching against plates, and glasses clinking with the table being the only thing that was heard. Even the servents glanced at each other nervously, the atmosphere tense.

Simon couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to you. You hadn’t said a word this morning, you had a sharp scowl on your face, even the way you buttered your toast was harsh.

“You’re awfully quiet.” He tested the waters, but again you said nothing. Only responding with a nod. “Last night you spoke to me. Or is it that you prefer to mutter things to yourself? What was it you called me again? An insensitive, intolerable arse” he laughed, it was small but held such amusement.

“I must admit, I have never heard such crass language leave a proper young lady’s mouth before.” That makes you pause as you’re about to cut into a sausage, he’d heard you bad mouthing him.

Your cheeks warm with slight embarrassment but Your glare is enough to get him to change the subject, “You’ve hardly eaten your breakfast. Is the food not to your liking? Do I need to have the chef prepare another meal for you?’ At this you shake your head no but that only frustrates Simon even more. “Then might I ask if there is something troubling you?” He tries, eyes holding a curiosity that makes you want to curl in on yourself and hide.

“No” You state.

And that’s it. That’s how it continues for the next two weeks of your marriage. Where other newlyweds would be rolling around together in bed in newly wed bliss. You are avoiding your husband and barely speaking to him during meal times something he is more than happy to point out.

Simon snaps one evening after asking you once more if something is the matter, to which you responded, “What’s it to you?” He most certainly does not take kindly to your attitude.

“Well forgive me if my curiosity is somewhat piqued. You are quite talented at making yourself scarce, so I apologize if my inquiry as to what my wife is thinking is a step over your boundaries!” He slams his knife and fork down on the wooden table.

There is a pause where it seems like the whole world is silent. You stare at your husband, watching closely as he tries to calm down from his outburst. Once he takes his fourth deep breath you decide to speak.

“Do you even care?”

Simon lets out a cold laugh at your question, “Out.” He commands to the servents, they make themselves scarce, the doors shutting behind them.

“Whether I ‘even care’ or not is irrelevant. Like it or not, we are husband and wife. And for the next three months, we must at least look like it.”

“Why should that matter here?” You roll your eyes placing your knife and fork down, though much more gently than Simon did.

“You are truly ignorant if you think we don’t have to pretend even within the confines of this estate. Servants have eyes. And ears. And we have little control over what they choose to share with those outside of this household. I have no doubt word of the state of our marriage has already reached London and spread throughout the Ton.” Simon stands, his chair scratching against the floor as he does. His heavy footsteps make the floorboards creak and it reminds you of your wedding day.

“This is truly disastrous.” Simon says bitterly as he pours himself a drink of amber liquid from one of the many crystal bottles on the side table.

“I’m not exactly having the best time of my life here with you either.” You sit back in your chair, folding your arms over your chest. Defensive and detached.

“Oh I’m well aware, you don’t exactly hide your distaste for me well, and I would be lying if I said the feelings were not the slightest bit mutual. But it would be wise to at least learn to tolerate each other’s presence.” He barks irritatedly swirling the amber liquid around in his glass before knocking it back. The glass is finished in one big gulp, it leads him to pour another before returning to his seat.

“Now with all that settled, I would very much appreciate it if you could cooperate with me in our little endeavor, dear wife.” Simon does what you think is a smile but you’re unsure. It looks more like a vicious dog baring its teeth to you in warning before it bites.

A few moments of silence between the two of you. You didn’t want this. A loveless marriage with a man who had absolutely zero interest in you. At least he wasn’t beating you though, or worse. Your brain pushes those thoughts aside and pushes you to think about what could have been instead.

It makes your heart ache and your eyes well up with tears. The last thing you want to do is cry in front of Simon. You abruptly push your chair back and storm out of the room, slamming the door behind you as you leave.

You’re panting by the time you get to your room, the tears pouring down your face as you heave. You’re on your knees before you know it, sobbing into your hands. The world moves on around you while you cry and pray for a different life. That this is all a dream and you’ll wake up soon in your old house with your old life before your parents decided to give you to this man.

You manage to pull yourself onto your bed where you cry yourself to sleep.

The rain was coming down hard now you noticed, a simple contrast compared to how it drizzled when you had woken up. Well, more like forced awake. The nightmare still fresh in your mind, a life you’d never have, your husband with other women. A loveless marriage and a baron home.

Your nose was blocked and your eyes puffy and sore from your melt down earlier. You washed your face and changed into your white nightgown and dark red robe before lighting a candle and making your way to the library.

The library, you could live and die happily in here. It was full of all your favourites and you always left the room with a smile on your face. A hard contrast to how you had left your bedroom earlier this evening.

You were so immersed in reading when Belle begins to fall in love with the beast that you didn’t even hear the library door slowly creak open.

To be continued…

Taglist | @watyousayin @corvusmorte @callmecurious97