↦ I love dark and twisted Titus as much as the next person does but soft domestic Titus will always be my fave :((
↦ cw : just pure domestic fluff !! Super short and sweet !! Reader can be anyone. Minors do not interact !!
Titus Danforth is the most attentive husband during your pregnancy. It was 4 months after the wedding when you told him you were expecting a child, the look on his face was priceless. The first time you’d ever seen him cry, he was so happy, dropping down to his knees and hugging your stomach, promising to be the best father and husband ever, not to be anything like his father.
Titus took note of all of your cravings, making sure that the kitchen was fully stocked with all your favourite snacks, making sure that the cooks knew what you liked and what you disliked during your pregnancy. It was 3am, and you woke up with a sudden craving for ice cream with crushed salt and vinegar chips on top. You tried to ignore it and go to sleep, but alas, you couldn't, and in the midst of getting out of bed, you woke up your husband.
“Where are you going, angel?” His voice was groggy with sleep, but he was also getting up.
“Sorry Ti, didn’t mean to wake you, but I’m craving ice cream with chips so badly.” You really felt bad for waking him, tears gathered in your eyes. You couldn’t help it. Your husband turns on the night lamp and gets out of bed over to you.
“Hey, sweetheart, don’t cry, I’ll go get it for you. Stay here, okay?" You nod, and he gets your snack for you. After a couple of minutes he comes back with your food, and you kiss him and thank him before digging in, moaning at the taste. After you finish eating, you cuddle up with Titus and fall asleep satisfied and happy.
little bonus
When you were told that your baby is a girl, you both were over the moon. A little baby girl, Titus dropped to his knees, thanking you for giving him a daughter. It made you quite emotional, seeing your husband in such a vulnerable way. Everyone knew Titus as this scary rich asshole, but to you two he was the sweetest man.
“I swear I’ll protect you both. I swear it on my life.”
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Summary : You and Titus have your first born, a little girl. Titus wanted a boy mainly to carry out the Danforth name, but when he held your little girl for the first time, he swore no harm would come to his little miss.
Warnings : 18+ DNI MINORS!!! - Age gap, (not specifically mentioned but Titus is described as ‘much’ older than yourself.) Swearing, one mention of bullying and name calling. (Carrot head), suggestive smut at the end, slight possession (on Titus’s side)
Authors note : First time writing for Titus, he is one of my favourite Shawn Characters so far! I love a sassy man who is freaked out. I hope I did him justice, I felt like he would definitely have a softer side in front of his daughter. No one bullies his sweet baby girl.
divider by @diviniyae ❤️
You could say that Titus was a little sad that your firstborn child was a little girl, but as soon as he held her in his arms, his face softened. He was looking down at his daughter with pride and joy. Also… You could both always try for another baby once you were ready.
As she was growing up, Titus was very protective over her. Never let anyone else touch her other than you and his sister, Ursula. After she turned 1, her first birthday needed to be perfect! He completely closed the resort for the weekend, and planned everything to the smallest detail. You had to explain to him that she wouldn’t remember her birthday at this age.
“Do you remember your first birthday? I know it was a looong time ago for you.” You teased him, as he was much older than you. You always loved to tease him about his age, it made for a very fun time after your daughter was fast asleep.
He smirked as the staff was bringing out the large pink cake, gently placing it onto the table. You couldn’t help but laugh as he kissed your cheek, pulling you closer.
“Better watch that mouth, Mrs Danforth.. wouldn’t want to miss our daughter's first birthday because you were getting smart with me.”
You rolled your eyes as Ursula brings in the birthday girl. They were picking out her birthday outfit because she told Titus that she needed to pick it, not him. Your little girl was in a cute pink and white dress with socks and little shoes to match.
“There she is! The birthday girl!” You walked over as you grabbed her from Ursula's arm, kissing her little chubby cheeks over and over. Her little giggles filled the room as Titus walked over to you both. Her little eyes widened as she saw her daddy, making grabby hands for him.
“Okay baby, you can have some daddy-daughter time before your big party.” Titus grabbed Eleanor as she cuddled onto him. Her little ginger curls flattened as she rested her head on him. She was very much a daddy’s girl, and who could blame her? Titus would do anything for his little princess.
When she was around 4 years old, you had to remind Titus that Eleanor needed to socialize with kids her own age and a little older to develop good relationships and social skills. Titus was a little picky with who his daughter played with, but that was to be expected. It was mainly frequent rich families kids that he knew wouldn’t try anything.
Until one day, some rich kid who briefly visited with his parents due to his school record being poor but recently was acting ‘accordingly’ came down by the pool. He was looking around, mainly trying to find an easy target and immediately noticed your daughter’s bright red hair as she was colouring on the tables near the pool. She had her little hat on, sunglasses on the table, little legs kicking around. The kid walked over to her and immediately started to call her names about her hair colour. Eleanor frowned, her eyes filling with tears as she jumped off her chair and ran inside, looking for you, Titus or even Ursula.
The staff member that was supposed to be watching your daughter noticed that she had disappeared. They looked around the resort for her, but another member of staff had taken her to Titus immediately. She ran into her daddy’s arms as he looked at her. You both were completely shocked at her tears as she was happily colouring and had someone watching her.
“What’s wrong princess? Tell daddy. You know daddy can fix anything.” There was an edge to his voice as he said the word ‘fix’ as you knew what that meant. You gently hit his arm as you gave him that look of ‘murder isn’t always the solution.. sometimes’
Your little baby’s voice wobbled as she looked at her daddy, her hat almost falling off.
“A v-very m-mean boy.. c-called me c-carrot head.” Eleanor buried her head into Titus’s neck as she sobbed. Titus was beyond furious, who dared someone call his little girl a carrot head.
The three of you went back to the pool so she could point out the boy who picked on her. He had made it onto a new target, proceeding to dunk another poor kid under the water. You had to stop Titus from marching himself over and dunking that bastard kid underwater himself. You made him take a seat with Eleanor to try and calm her and (himself) down. Fortunately for the kid, you had a lighter approach.
You walked over to the kid and asked him if he picked on your little girl, pointing to your baby and your husband. He immediately deflected and said no. You asked him again, your voice became more pronounced and he again said no and told you ‘get lost lady’ splashing you with the pool water. Titus saw everything, his anger was growing more by the second, Eleanor was gently calming down from her tears as Titus whispered that her hair was beautiful and just like his when he was younger.
After the kid splashed you, he swam away, looking back to see if you were still looking at him. You had already begun walking back to Titus and explained what happened.
“I am going to find Ursula to see if we can find the parents of that kid. He clearly needs to be taught better values than to mess with the Danforth family”
Titus kept an eagle eye on the kid. “Oh. Trust me. I have more than enough values to teach.”
“Titus, that’s a kid.” You sighed. You loved your husband dearly, but sometimes you did get annoyed by his actions when it came to wanting to handle problematic people with violence.
“Stay with Eleanor.. I am going to find Ursula and sort this out. The non-violent way.” Titus looked annoyed, then opened his mouth to speak. You pointed your finger at him, Eleanor looked up at her daddy’s little pout and giggled.
“Naughty daddy..” She giggled more as Titus looked like a scolded puppy.
“You laughing at daddy getting told off by mummy?”He said as he kissed her hair, as she nodded. You smiled, kissing both Titus then your Eleanor’s forehead.
After around 5 minutes, you found the parents of that kid. You told them what their boy said to your daughter and how he was very disrespectful to you. They were both mortified, all colour drained. They apologized on their son’s behalf multiple times on the way back to the pool.
“Oh, your apology means nothing to me. It’s your son’s fault. He made our child cry about something she couldn’t change. Her father is very angry.”
The boy’s family noticed Titus and your little girl at the table. She had her little sunglasses back to help her sensitive eyes from crying. Ursula walked over to the staff who was supposed to be watching her niece, giving them a good talking in private.
Once Ursula returned, you told her to take Eleanor for some ice cream. She smiled big at the thought of ice cream and spending time with her auntie. She reached up to Ursula, wrapping her arms around her neck. Ursula began to walk away to the kitchens as you heard them both talk about what ice cream she wanted.
You had turned to the family with your back to Titus. Oh, you knew Titus loved this as much as you did. They looked completely shit scared just by Titus glaring at them. You gently sat yourself on Titus’s lap, hand playing with his curls.
“Did you know that our daughter’s beautiful red hair is from Titus himself?“ You prompted to the couple, they both shook their heads as you continued. “When Titus was younger.. he had the most gorgeous red hair. I’ve only seen it in photos…” You sighed, as you continued to play with your husband’s curls at the back of his neck.
The father pleaded to you both. “Mr and Mrs Danforth, we are both extremely and deeply sorry that our son called your daughter names about her gorgeous hair. We are extremely-“
Titus lifted his hand up to silent the man from speaking. He had heard enough, the tone of his voice and pitch annoyed him. God, this man was pathetic. The wife had grabbed her son and scolded him. You and Titus saw that the kid looked like he didn’t care. That’s what made you make your last decision final.
“You’re banned for the Danforth Estate. If you have any share holders with us? Gone. You see, we don’t appreciate bullies.. of any kind. Doesn’t matter what age. A bully is a bully.”
The husband looked shocked, and the wife began to cry. Their family was one of the monthly regulars. You and Titus couldn’t care less. Their son made your beautiful baby cry.
“Cry me a river.. go. Pack your shit and get the fuck out.” You scoffed, as the husband looked like he was going to defend his wife but Titus grip got heavier on your hip.
“Don’t. My wife’s word is final. Get the fuck out…” He said with a low rumble in his throat. Fuck, you loved it when he got overly protective of you. It made your thighs push together gently as you turned to look at him.
“I would do as my husband says or I may let him approach this.. his way and we wouldn’t want that.”
You kept eye contact with Titus as you warned the family. You saw his tongue gently dart across his lips as the family accepted their offer of leaving. Unharmed. You could hear the woman screaming at her husband and child for both being idiots.
“See? My plan worked perfectly. Save all of your energy for the hunt next week.. I heard it’s gonna be a pretty big one..” You gently kissed his lips, coming off his lap.
“Let’s go back to our room.. I saw the way your thighs squeezed together. Want some help.. bunny?”
haunted hotel, pepperettes, windows down, postcard pls 🙏
training session // 1.1k follower celebration
btw, i went a little more unconventional bodyguard with this one, so i hope thats okay!! cuz guard dog titus ily
titus soon learns that trying to teach you self-defense is a fucking nightmare. not because you’re incapable, but because you refuse to take anything seriously.
the back fields of his father’s golf course stretch endlessly around you both, private for the day and quiet except for the breeze rolling through the grass. somewhere in the distance, sprinklers click lazily across the greens.
its quite peaceful actually. which is ironic considering titus is currently trying to teach you how to properly slit someone’s throat.
he’d started with smaller weapons first. easier ones. a knife tucked carefully into your palm while he stood behind you correcting your grip with growing irritation. unfortunately, you spent the most part of the session giggling. mostly because you know titus gets sassy when he’s frustrated and you find it adorable.
the training knife wobbles dangerously in your grip while titus adjusts your frame and stance for what feels like the fiftieth time in the last ten minutes.
“stop holdin’ it like you’re buttering toast.”
“i don’t butter my own toast.”
“yes darling, we know.”
you gasp dramatically, spinning around to smack his chest with the back of your hand. “that was classist.”
“whatever you say, sweetheart,” titus mutters, catching your wrist before you can hit him again.
effortlessly, his fingers wrap fully around your wrist and you immediately get distracted, staring at the size difference. of course titus notices. he notices everything about you.
the corner of his mouth twitches slightly as your eyes drift over the veins in his hands, the scars across his knuckles, the way his body practically swallows yours whole whenever he stands this close.
god. you think titus danforth might genuinely be the prettiest man you’ve ever seen, which is probably concerning considering you’ve also watched him come back from hunts with blood splattered across his face wearing that exact same sick smile on his face.
most normal people might see him as terrifying…or just plain satanic. you, unfortunately, had seen that smile once and decided it was undeniably attractive. deeply unfortunate for everyone involved since he's become your entire personality since.
“you’re distracted again,” he mutters.
“you’re standing too close.” you murmur, eyes flicking back up towards his own.
“i hope you know you’d die in under thirty seconds.”
“not if i scream at the top of my lungs for my strong and scary titus,” you declare, voice half mocking, half sincere.
something shifts in his expression at your comment. visibly pleased in that dark, obsessive way of his. like the thought of you depending on him scratches something deeply unhealthy inside his brain. though, his mind isn't quite healthy to begin with.
titus likes protecting you a little too much. everybody knows it. the way he shadows you through any gathering like a feral guard dog. the way he positions himself between you and strangers automatically. the way people stop approaching you entirely once titus walks into the room.
not because he says anything. honestly, titus barely speaks to most people at all. but everybody knows he doesn’t need much of a reason to snap and unfortunately for them, he seems to consider you his reason for everything now. which sounds romantic until you remember titus has killed for far less.
“okay,” you announce suddenly, grabbing a dagger from the grass.
“hypothetically, if a creepy man came up behind me—”
“most men are creepy.” titus says it so matter-of-factly you almost laugh. mostly because he’s arguably the creepiest man you know.
“wow. thank you for sharing, titus.”
“you’re welcome.”
you roll your eyes before lunging your frame dramatically through the air. “wouldn’t i just stab him like this—”
titus reacts instantly to your movement. his body tapping into some instinct, like the violence lives inside of him deeper than he can control. one second you’re attacking invisible enemies. the next, he’s caught your arm, twisted behind you, and dropped you flat onto the grass. not hard. just fast enough to make you shriek.
“titus!”
“that,” he says calmly from above you, “would get you killed.”
you glare up at him between startled laughter, your hair spread across the grass while titus kneels over your hips like some massive predatory animal.
he looks terrifying like this, but also so beautiful.
the sun catches the sharp lines of his face while he pins you beneath him with frightening ease, completely unbothered by the fact he could overpower you in seconds.
titus feels himself twitch against his pants. you look gorgeous like this. sprawled out like prey yet looking at him like you aren’t afraid at all. like you belong there, ready to be devoured by him. his breakfast, his lunch, his dinner and, good god his dessert.
honestly, this stopped feeling educational an hour ago.
“you tackled me!”
“i’m just trying to be realistic.”
“you threw me to the ground!”
“you’re being dramatic”
you stare at him for a second before dissolving into a giggle fit again. titus exhales sharply through his nose, clearly trying not to smile. trying and failing just a little.
maybe it’s the heat or the boredom or the fact titus is hovering over you looking all dangerous and irritated, but suddenly you’re over this lesson entirely. so you fist the front of his shirt and yank him down into a kiss.
he makes a low groan before immediately kissing you back harder. possessive just like he approaches everything else. one hand slides into your hair while the other stays locked around both your wrists, bringing them up and above your head.
“mm,” you mumble lazily against his mouth. “this is way more fun.”
“no shit.”
you grin before adding thoughtfully. “you know maybe we should practice on somebody real next time.”
titus stills slightly, interested in your proposal. “yeah?”
you hum. “my family’s accountant, maybe? he gave me a lecture for using daddy’s card during my shopping spree yesterday.”
a pause hits you before titus laughs. actually, genuinely laughs. low and rough and a little bit unhinged but oh do you love the sound.
“there she is,” titus murmurs, thumb brushing slowly across your cheek almost affectionately. “knew there was somethin’ rotten in you.”
But… 😏 not until I get this out of my system. Okay? Okay! 🤪
Here is every Shawn Hatosy character’s (that I know about so far) reaction to being told reader wants them to sleep in separate beds 🤭
(Note: idea came from seeing a Sammy/Pope/Jack post on my FYP of them finding out reader is pregnant. I just had to jump on this real quick lol! Lemme know if you like it..)
Jack Abbot:
“You know,” You begin, voice soft enough to break the early morning peace. Jack grumbles softly to show that even though his eyes are closed, he’s listening.
It makes you smile.
This poor man has just stumbled in from his night shift, but you can’t help but wanna see if he’ll react the same way you’ve seen other husbands do on TikTok.
“I saw somewhere that.. Couples last longer if they sleep in separate beds.” You point out as you lay with your head on his chest. You feel his body slightly stiffen, and you hold back a chuckle.
“That’s good for those couples..” He mutters after a moment, voice still thick with exhaustion and coming out gruff.
“We should-“ He cuts you off.
“Nope.”
“Jack!”
“Going to sleep.” Jack announces casually, showing he won’t even entertain the idea.
“Jack!” You can’t help but giggle as he moves so he’s basically laying on top of you.
“Shh. Sleeping.” He smirks as you laugh softly, deciding to just give in..
Andrew “Pope” Cody:
You eye Pope from across the kitchen as he dries the dishes you finish scrubbing. Chores with him always went by faster, and were usually done in a comfortable silence.
You two kept your house in order. You understood why that was so important to someone like Pope. His entire life was usually is disarray. What he could control, he’d always put in order.
Your mind wonders back to the girl talk from yesterday at the hair salon. How some of the girls had tested their partners to see how they’d react to sleeping alone. You were never one to do this, but.. A part of you had grown curious.
How would Pope react?
“Andy?” You finally say. His attention snaps straight to you. Almost immediately. It was once scary to witness. How automatic grabbing his attention was when it came to you. But you’d grown used to it quickly.
Now, you actually found it to be a bit of an ego boost..
“I read an article about couples yesterday..” You state. “They said that.. Couples who sleep in separate beds last longer..” You start softly.
“No.”
The word comes out without much hesitation or pause. His face remains neutral though. Calm. It usually always is. You falter a bit since you’d opened your mouth to continue speaking but had been cut off by him. You can’t help but chuckle a bit in surprise over how quick that response was..
“No?” You ask playfully.
“Yes.” He nods. “You want two beds, we’ll get two beds. Switch between them every night.” He says, voice soft, but slightly gravelly as he shrugs. You eye him softly as he finds ‘common ground’ with you. “But we will share a bed. Every night.” He continues, voice curt. Like that’s the final point of this discussion.
You blush softly, walking around the kitchen counter to gently grab his face with both hands. His hands instinctively go to your elbows to hold you too.
“Okay, Andy. We share a bed, every night..” You assure gently.
Sammy Bryant:
“And he rises..” You tease as Sammy stumbles into the kitchen, half asleep, half dressed, and half ready for the day.
“Always do.” Sammy plays it off as he hurriedly buttons his shirt while you decide to be nice to your husband and pour him a cup of coffee.
“Where’s Trouble?” He asks, hair still wet from his shower, a sad attempt at getting himself together. It almost makes you laugh as you walk over to hand him his mug.
“Catching up on sleep..” You inform. “That thing she didn’t let her daddy get last night..” You note gently, voice playful as you nod to the baby monitor on the kitchen counter. Sammy playfully grumbles into his coffee.
“She’s teething. It happens..” He sighs. You smile at the man before you. The man who has taken fatherhood in stride. The man who started out soft only to be turned cold by an ex-wife, now stands in front of you, just as tender as you knew he could be.
“You were barely in bed last night..” You point out. You had tried getting up to help, but Sammy would assure you that he could handle your fussy bundle of joy on his own. You knew it’s the smaller things he liked to do. To be a comfort. You knew it was best to just let him.
“You sure you can be on your game today?” You ask.
“I’m on my game every day..” He smirks at you, eyes showing his tiredness though. It makes you chuckle.
That smirk is what worked on you, always..
“You’re also.. 10 minutes from being late.” You point out. His eyes widen a bit as he looks at the clock.
“Shit.” He says and quickly moves to the kitchen counter to pack up a lunch and indulge in the breakfast you’d made.
“I’ve been thinking..” You say after a moment of watching your husband rush around the kitchen. Sammy quickly puts toast in his mouth so he could run out for the day. You had been wanting to see his reaction to this ever since it came up on some early morning talk show..
“Mm-Hm..” He hums, mouth full as he moves to grab his things.
“What if we have two separate beds?” You ask. Sammy swallows the rest of his coffee as he nods fast.
“Whatever works for you, baby.” He assures, panting softly from chugging a hot liquid. He walks back over to you, pecking your lips lazily. “I gotta go. I’ll call.” He states as he grabs at his things.
“Love you! Tell Trouble daddy loves her!” He calls from over his shoulder as he runs out of the kitchen. You hum a bit and shake your head in amusement, deciding to just let it go.
You hear Sammy leave through the front door, but a second later, he comes walking back in, face showing concern.
“Hey, baby, what-“ He cuts you off.
“You said separate beds?” He asks to clarify.
You can’t help but chuckle at how long it’d taken for that to sink in. “I mean… Yeah, it’s good for some couples..” You continue. Might as well.
“Is it me?” Sammy asks as he moves closer.
“No! Of course not. I like snuggling up to my man..” You assure fast when you see there’s genuine worry in those brown eyes of his. It hurts your heart, you can’t keep it up.
“Then no separate beds, yeah?” He asks softly, voice tender as you quickly nod.
“Yeah. Yes. It’s a dumb idea, baby. I’m sorry..” You assure fast as you move to hug him close. He sighs in relief, this time actually kissing you.
“I love you.” He says against your lips as you smile brightly, wrapping your arms around his neck.
“I love you.” You mumble back, kissing him again.
Brett Richards:
“There you are!”
You sigh as step into the garage where your boyfriend of two years is deep in elbow grease, trying to bring life back into his old pick up truck. Brett looks over at you with soft eyes, smiling warmly at the sight of you still half asleep and in his shirt.
“Morning, gorgeous..” He says as he walks over to turn off the music he had playing for background noise.
“I thought a lazy Sunday meant staying in bed. The cats are in bed, I am in bed..” You point out as he walks over to kiss your forehead as a proper good morning greeting.
“What’s the issue?” He asks. You give him a look.
“You aren’t.” You point out with crossed arms.
“I will be. I swear. Just.. Wanna finish this.” He assures as he leads you to sit in the truck so you’re not standing around while he works. You hum at that.
“You know.. This wouldn’t be an issue if we had separate beds..” You point out after a moment of silence.
Brett slows his movements to look over at you. He raises an eyebrow. “Separate beds?” He asks, to make sure he heard you right. You nod.
“Read an article about it yesterday morning. Most couples swear by it..” You shrug, mostly messing with the older man, but you could already see the wheels turning in his head.
“Separate beds..” He mutters. “What would that do?” He asks as he starts to give it more thought. You feel your shoulders stiffen slightly.
Was he actually considering this?!
“It’d give us better sleep quality. Mm.. More personal comforts. Might enhance our.. Intimacy..” Brett lists off the top of his head.
“What are you doing?!” You ask finally.
“Making the pros and cons in my head.” He says gently. You frown at him. Brett has always been a problem solver. Always thinking more logically than emotionally. Most would call him a jerk, but underneath it all was just someone who cared. He cared for his family, for his job, for his cats, and for his friends.
He also cared for you.
He just had a way of doing so that could come off as odd to some.
You pout a bit as you cross your arms. “What’s the cons?” You ask finally. Brett smiles softly at your expression.
“I won’t get to hold you as much..” He starts off simply. You try to keep the same expression, but you can’t help but melt when he pulls you closer, hands on your hips.
“That outweighs the pros?” You grumble softly as he chuckles warmly.
“Always.” He says sweetly, voice soft. You smile as the country air blows a warm breeze into the garage’s open door.
“Good.” You say in slight relief, leaning in.
“Then again, the sleep quality..” Brett trails off jokingly against your lips before you can kiss.
You pull away fast. “I’m going back to bed. With the cats!” You fuss as he laughs, trying to pull you back and assure you that he was just messing around..
Terry McCandless:
“I’ve been thinking.” You sigh as you set the last box down from moving. You’d officially leashed the dog. This was ‘popping champagne’ levels of celebration, if you asked anyone who knew Terry. That man could be a menace.
Terry McCandless and monogamy just didn’t go together, but in order to keep you around, he was more than willing to try.
And try he has. One year and today you’re officially moved in together.
“What’s on your mind, baby?” Terry asks, southern accent as charming as the day it was when you first met him.
“It’d be smart to get separate beds..” You say, trying not to laugh. Terry slows his unpacking to eye you closely, lips twitching into a smirk as you continue unloading, pretending to look innocent in this whole thing.
“Okay..” He says. That makes you stop your movements.
“Okay?!” You ask as you turn to face him fast.
“Yeah..” He shrugs. “But the second you miss me, you’re gonna have to say please before you can get in my bed..” He adds on with a wider, sly smirk that matches one of a wolf. You ignore the look and cross your arms over your chest.
“Hmm…” You softly humph. “Well, same goes for you then.” You state as you eye him up and down. He chuckles and steps a bit closer.
“Oh, darlin..” He starts slowly. “We both know I won’t have to beg that much..” He taunts as he gets right in front of you. His hands slide to your waist as you look anywhere but him..
“Matter of fact..” Terry gently grabs your chin, turning you back to face him. “Lemme see your beggin face..” He mumbles.
“Terry! The rest of the boxes!” You try to remind, mostly just to get out of this, but you feel your cheeks getting warmer.
“Say ‘please, Terry. Let me lay here’..” He whispers as his thumb lazily touches your bottom lip to make you pout. You push down a shiver as you eye him, considering it before shaking your head.
“Stop!” You giggle quietly as you lightly push at him. He smirks as he grabs you by the waist to yank you closer. You grumble, realizing you won’t get out of this..
“Please, Terry.. Let me lay here..” You give in, your voice a soft mumble as he leans in closer.
He groans softly, using one hand to playfully clutch at his chest like he’s melting from the inside out. “I can’t say no to you..” He smirks before kissing you deeply..
Titus Danforth:
The only sound in the dining room is silverware against fine china. Breakfast is laid out in a spread along the long dining room table. The servants move among you and Titus, heads casted downwards because they know better.
“I’ve been thinking..” You say, breaking the silence. His eyes slip up from his paper to look at you. His movements are usually slow. It gives people a false sense of security.
“With the wedding getting closer… We should consider sleeping in separate beds.” You say. The minute the sentence leaves your lips, it’s as if time itself has stood still, afraid of the reaction from the man seated across from you.
The ticking of the grandfather clock off to the side hallway of this grand mansion is your only sign that maybe, possibly, time doesn’t care.
But the servants sure do…
They all slow their movements, but don’t dare to stop. Or show any outward reaction. Titus carefully wipes his mouth as you poke at the fruit on your plate.
“What?”
It’s his voice. His voice makes everything in the room deadly still. Everyone.
You don’t look up from your plate. Your heart is racing as you feel his eyes burn holes into your skin.
“Out.” He orders after a few seconds of silence. The servants don’t need to be told twice. They all quickly scatter away, leaving you two alone.
Another beat of silence…
“Why?” He asks, voice low and restrained. As if he’s holding himself back. It makes you hide your smirk as you finally look up at him.
“I’ve just been thinking-“ He cuts you off.
“Why are you thinking that?” He asks, tone tense and rough.
“It was just a suggestion..” You calmly shrug.
“A stupid one.” He says, voice as dark as his eyes.
“I didn’t know you wanted me in your bed so badly..” You note. He watches you for a moment longer before he gets up from his chair and walks over to where you’re sat.
“You really think..” He begins slowly as he gets in front of you, standing over you. His hand finds your chin. “There’s a bed you can rest your pretty little head on that I won’t crawl my way in to?” He whispers as you try turning your face from his grasp only to have him tighten and yank your face back to look up at him.
“Hm?” He whispers roughly, grip on your chin not loosening as he watches you closely. You ignore the excitement you get in your chest as he leans down now to be eye level with you.
“You’re such a romantic..” You whisper when his lips get close enough to yours..
Added in due to demand lol
Grant Reilly:
“And.. Voilà! Dinner is served..”
You smile softly up at your boyfriend as he presents the romantic dish for you. You were constantly being fed only the best from him, and he loved being able to spoil you. He got a kick out of it, honestly. You could see it in his eyes whenever you’d indulge in his food, his picks of wine, his specialized desserts.
He made food intimate. He made nights in intimate. You sit up straighter to really take in the pasta. Freshly made and drizzled on top is honey that he swears makes the vodka sauce taste even better. After a year together, you’ve learned to trust his food takes.
“How was your day, honey?” Grant asks as he starts to open the bottle of wine, screwing into the cork in a way that makes you marvel at his biceps. You hum.
“It was nice. I actually brushed up on some reading..” You say. You’d been messing around with the idea all day, but you couldn’t help yourself any longer.
“Oh yeah? Anything good?” Grant asks as he focuses now on tugging at the cork.
“I read that some couples.. Report better intimacy if they sleep in separate beds.” You finally say innocently as you poke at the pasta. Grant’s eyes slowly slip along the dining table of the dimly lit kitchen and land on you.
“Oh?” He asks quietly.
“Just got me thinking. What if we-“ You’re cut off be the sharp pop of the wine cork coming out of the bottle tightly gripped in Grant’s hand. You take note at how tense his shoulders are.
“I don’t.. Uh..” He calms down a bit as he realizes how hard he’d yanked on the cork. “I don’t think.. That’s a good idea..” He finally says, voice soft. It’s as quiet as the soft music spinning on the record player.
“You don’t?” You ask, trying to keep your face neutral, but you find him adorable in this moment.
“I mean.. I don’t know how you young people are getting down today, but.. Back in my time..” Grant trails off a bit, making you chuckle at the unironic ‘back in my day’ speech.
Grant Reilly was the most romantic and intimate and sensual boyfriend you’ve ever had, yet the age difference between you two loomed over him like a shadow. It was always in the back of his mind. No matter what assurances you gave him that you were very much happy where you were..
“Separate beds meant.. An unhappy couple..” Grant continues as he eyes you closely, as if asking the unspoken question. One that makes you softly smile as you reach over and touch his hand from across the table.
“Then I guess separate beds aren’t for us then..” You assure gently, making him slowly smile in relief.
“Good..” He says tenderly before pouring you both some wine, watching proudly as you dig into the pasta in front of you..
Stan Rosado:
“Oh! Look at these pillows..” You excitedly gasp as you flip through the magazine while snuggled in close to the side of your boyfriend of two years. With college knocking on the door of your adolescence, the idea to officially move in together was keeping the future bright for you both.
Stan rubs the back of his neck in slight frustration over his calculus textbook, deciding it best to just take a break. He turns to eye the magazine page you’ve presented to him.
“Looks cool. A little vintage though, right?” He scrunches his nose slightly. “Like.. Old cat lady.” He teases, making you gasp in offense while you lightly swat at him with the magazine. He laughs.
“Well, I like it.” You defend instantly as he quickly throws up his hands.
“I’m not knocking it! Just sayin..” He assures quickly with a small smile to show he means no real harm. You playfully grumble.
“Yeah, well, this is how I’m gonna decorate my bed too..” You point out.
“Our bed.” Stan corrects with a goofy grin growing on his face, as if getting happy at just the thought of it. Soon, you two would have your own space to grow and achieve together.
“No…” You trail off playfully. “My bed. You can have your own.” You state, only messing around really. But Stan raises an eyebrow anyways.
“Oh, no way! I’m sharing a bed with my girl..” He declares simply as you giggle.
“No! You said my style is ‘old cat lady’.” You point out.
“Oh, come on, Y/N…” Stan groans as he pulls you on to his lap. You two should’ve been enjoying this Saturday picnic in the park, but you’re not playfully fighting over this ‘major life choice’.
“No! This old lady wants her space..” You continue on, head held high till he starts to tickle you.
“Stan!” You squeal as you try swatting him away only for him to get you down on the blanket, hovering over you to continue tickling you.
“Take it back!” He playfully orders as you scream with laughter, not caring who might be looking over.
“I take it back!” You finally give in, making him smile in victory.
“Yes!” He cheers as he sits up on his knees to throw his hands in the air. You glare playfully as you lay there on the blanket, surrounded by soft and freshly cut grass.
“You’re mean!” You state matter of factly as you watch your boyfriend move back over you to kiss your cheek.
“I’m sorry..” He plays along. “I’ll let you have full control. You decorate how you want. Just.. No separate beds.” He says as you hum softly.
“I’d rather lay in an old lady bed than not lay with you.” He says simply before laughing, getting up so he can run away from you before you can hit him again for his ‘joke’.
“Get back here!” You shout as you get up to chase him..
titus danforth x sex worker reader / 6.8k words / sequel to i'm your man
you and titus get married and honeymoon together in france. a french admirer of yours won't stop harrassing you. you and titus do what you do best – be perverted freaks about it.
18+!!!!! minors do not interact!! forced cuckholding (titus is not the cuckhold), exhibitionism, dark titus, period sex, period kink, blood kink via period, reader wears a diva cup (where my divas at??), marriage kink, everything about them is a kink, protective titus, possessive titus, dark titus, recreational drug use (MDMA), alcohol consumption, two crazy people in love, white lotus vibes kinda?? sugar daddy vibes from titus, he is gross and perverted he is obsessed and deraged, he has existed for years but very little has changed
You and Titus got married at City Hall, much to his chagrin.
He wanted to go all out. His wealth was endless and ever expanding. Big poofy dress for you, sleek black tuxedo for him. But you never had a want for that. When you imagined your wedding as a kid, it was simple, honest. Backyard wedding at your now dead parents’ house, not many people invited. But you're an adult now. You didn't want those eyes on you. You just wanted Titus’ eyes on you. Peering and gentle as he made love to you. His mouth spewing sweet nothings as he thrusted in and out of you.
Ursula was against the whole thing. Marriage was a horrible, stupid financial decision for her. But Titus loved you. In a horrible, stupid way.
You loved him in a horrible, stupid way, too.
You loved the way he looked at you when you washed your face at the end of the night in your his and hers bathroom. You loved the way his nose scrunched up when he was focused on the book he read beside you in your shared bed. You loved chasing him around the Danforth estate like little children without a single worry in the world.
You and Titus had your bubble, your routines. You'd wake up beside him and smoke a joint with him until you both got hungry enough to get up and walk down to the kitchen. You would show him all of the movies you loved when he wasn't needed in the office, which was most of the time for a rich, nepo baby like him. His underlings could do his work for him when he had you wrapped up in his blankets in his bed.
You wore a simple white dress that Titus bought for you greedily when you were out shopping one day. If you even looked at a piece of clothing with feigned interest, he would ask if you wanted it. He would look through the racks of clothing in expensive boutiques you didn't even know existed and make you try them on. He would pay the store manager to close the store so he could see you without any distractions.
You put on the white dress without even thinking about the connotations. It was another item out of a long list of them to try on for him like a doll. You stepped out of the fitting room, your face exhausted.
It was a floor length dress, adorned with virginal lace and pearls. A sweetheart neckline that pushed up your tits with flowy bell sleeves that ended mid forearm. You looked like an elf, an Arwen to Titus’ Aragorn. You couldn't stop looking at yourself in the mirror. You didn't look like a junkie prostitute. You looked like... you.
“I'm marrying you in that.”
The statement caught you off guard. “Really?” You looked at him through the mirror, his gaze fixated on your body.
“Really.” He walked up to you, wrapping his arms across your torso.
“It's not bad luck?” You turned your head over to him, looking at him with soft eyes.
“I believe we make our own luck.”
So you stood at City Hall with Titus, with the dress he picked out for you, Ursula stood beside you as witness. Titus had picked you a bundle of lavender sprigs and baby's breath and gardenias from the garden the housekeepers did their magic on. He tied it together with a ribbon cut off from his mother's wedding veil. It was the most beautiful bouquet you'd ever seen.
You both decided to not say any vows in public, deciding to say them to each other in your premarital bed through whispers like little kids.
“I promise to never hurt you, to take care of you for the rest of my life, to read all the books you want me to, to watch all of the movies you want me to, to listen to the music you want me to,” Titus had tears running down his cheek, the lines down his face reflected in the moonlight. “I promise to always care for you, no matter how much you wanna push me away, no matter how depressed and angry you are, because you need to know that I'm not going to abandon you, never.”
You cried too, the side of your face pressed against the pillow. “I promise to be by your side, no matter how hard, how difficult life will be. I promise to give you all of myself and to try to accept your love no matter how much my brain doesn't want to take it,” You cupped your hand against his cheek, his overgrown five o'clock shadow peeking through. “I promise to be your partner, through everything, because I need you to know that I’m not going to abandon you, never.”
Those vows were in your head when the officiant asked if you were ready to take this man as your lawfully wedded husband,
to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.
“I do.” You smiled assuredly.
Your brain was fuzzy when the officiant asked the same of Titus.
“I do.” He smirked, the way he did that first night in the brothel.
“You may kiss the bride.”
Boy, did he.
He grabbed your waist and held your head in his hands, power coursing through his veins as kissed you, sighing into your mouth as he pulled you closer to him, his tongue in you fell under his spell. The officiant, a man around Titus’ age with greying, balding hair, watched the newly eloped couple in front of him with a chuckle. Ursula held back a gag.
“Congrats to the happy couple, next please!”
-
Titus held you bridal style up the steps of his private jet, the flight attendant and pilot clapping with smiles that screamed forced to you. You figured they were used to Titus’ antics by now, but now they had to deal with you, the newly betrothed Mrs. Danforth.
Titus refused to let you change into something more comfortable for wherever the fuck he was taking you for your honeymoon. So the fabric of your dress flowed in the air as he held you in his strong, secure arms. He wanted to take the dress off of you as he consummated the marriage. You could fucking tell he was gonna destroy you tonight.
“Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Danforth!” The flight attendant (Sarah, according to her shiny gold nametag placed a few inches above her breast) passed you and Titus two cold flutes of champagne. You took one as soon as Titus let you stand on your two feet, immediately sipping on it with him. He took a flute and sipped on it with you.
“Thank you Sarah, is the cake in the cabin?”
“Cake?” You asked.
“The cake is inside the cabin, sir, are you going to need anything else before we take off?”
“No, Sarah, thank you,” He pushed you into the cabin, where a small, round cake with cream coloured icing piped around the edge. You saw one of those plastic bride and groom figures placed on top of it. He sat down and you went to sit down at the chair across from him, but he stopped you before you could. “Nuh huh, sit on my lap, Mrs. Danforth.”
You chuckled before doing what he asked. Even through the layers of tulle and silk, you could feel his hard cock underneath your ass.
He took the slicer that sat beside the elegant cake and took your hand and placed it on top of the hand of his holding the utensil. “Slice the cake with me, baby.”
He guided you to cut the cake, your hand small compared to his. The cake was smooth against the dull blade. His lips were against your neck, kissing up and down, making you squirm. The cake revealed itself to be a deep red velvet, your favourite.
Titus took a plate and fork, placing the slice of cake on the plate and digging into the cake, taking a thick, decadent portion and moving it towards your mouth. He put his hand on your jaw and opened it up for you. “Open wide, Mrs. Danforth.”
Your mouth enveloped the cake, the soft insides sliding off of the fork and overwhelming your tongue. “Mmph!” You squealed as you swallowed.
“Good, isn't it baby?”
“Good?” You finished swallowing, placing your hand on your mouth. “This is the best fucking thing I've ever tasted.”
“I don't know about that, angel, what about my fat cock, huh?”
“I mean food, Titus.”
“Well I picked it out for you, so I guess that's close enough.”
You laughed, picking up another fork and digging into the cake, opening up his mouth the way he did to yours. You watched his mouth take the cake, little red crumbs collected on the side of his mouth. You wiped off them as he swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing as he did so. You felt his cock twitch underneath you.
“Attention Mr. and Mrs. Danforth,” The pilot said over the intercom. “We will be making our ascent out of Washington into Cannes, France in about five minutes, please make sure you have your seatbelt on as we take off for your safety.”
“Cannes?” You whispered to Titus. He listened to all of the times you'd shown him pictures from Cannes in awe, a dream of yours to go there one day. Mostly for the film festival, always wanting to go and consume movies like air and walk on the pretty beaches. He remembered.
“Of course baby, where did you think I was taking you?”
You kissed him deeply. His mouth over taking yours like he did at the altar. “I love you more than anything, Titus.”
“I love you more than anything, baby,” He kissed you before patting your ass. “Now get your ass over there and buckle your seatbelt.”
You looked at him in awe. This was the beginning of the rest of your life. You couldn't believe it.
-
Cannes was warm and sultry against your skin. It was like the smell of brown sugar and vanilla when you were making fresh cookies. The sun beat down on you, haunting you like a ghost. Titus had booked a hotel with a private beach that you could just walk out into from your room, the sand digging deep between your toes.
The best thing about flying private was the drug trafficking.
Once the seatbelt sign was off and Titus was able to get Sarah get off of your ass and go to the cockpit, he pulled out an eight ball of coke and poured some out onto your chest, snorting a few lines before he poured out some lines on a clean plate and passing it to you.
High as a kite, he made you come five times with his fingers, telling you how good it is to watch his wife come around his fingers. Telling you how possessive he was over you, how much he owned your pussy, his pussy.
So when you finally got to the hotel room, you were immediately pressed against the door, your wedding dress pulled off of your body haphazardly. You moaned and he mauled at you like a lion and his nostrils flared and his cock was so fucking hard. On the plane you watched him take one of those little blue pills you mocked him for weeks earlier. So you knew he was teasing himself, waiting to attack you with a patience only somebody as insane as Titus could have.
He pulled you into the bedroom, the French sunset filling the hotel, lighting your bodies in the most perfect, marital way. You felt the most sensual you'd ever felt in your life. When people say when they feel beautiful, like a woman in the bedroom, this is what they mean. A man so fucking hot like Titus was devouring you slowly and precisely, of course you felt like the most beautiful woman in the world.
Titus fucked you and whimpered into your ear like it was a confessional, begging you for seven hail Marys (haha) to make him whole. He saw you as something other worldly, something alien in the most wonderful way possible. He ate your cunt so much and you felt so good that you didn't even realize that your period had started.
When Titus came up from in between your thighs, his face was smeared in your blood. He was feral and sick in the head. You wanted to make babies with him.
“Titus, you got something on your mouth.” You chuckled as he crawled towards you.
“Nothing I want to get rid of, baby.”
He fucked your tender cunt in missionary like he was preparing you and yoy waited for him to swallow you whole. His face was covered in your blood. You thought he couldn't get sexier.
“Fuckin’ those cramps away, right baby?”
You gasped as you felt your orgasm impending. He loved to split you open like this, your legs split open, one on his shoulder, one on his hip.
“Never gonna have another period without me baby,” He muttered as he watched his cock go in and out of your aching pussy. “Always gonna be here for you, always.”
You both came with ragged gasps. Your marriage to Titus was officially consummated.
-
You ate breakfast the next morning, your finger getting used to the feeling of Titus’ mother's ring that he gave you after you said yes. The diamond on it was unusual, a deep, dark red that sat tight in its setting. You loved it. It sat on your ring finger as a heavy reminder of the devotion you and Titus had for each other.
You and Titus sat a pair of chairs with a table in the middle, outside under the shade of the large umbrella sunk into the heavy sand of the beach. The waves lapped in and out slowly in the high tide. You shared a French press of coffee with Titus, talking about all of the things to do and deciding on a loose itinerary for the day.
Titus had stood up to use the bathroom, leaving you with a small kiss and a pat on the back. You looked at the menu again and then looked through your phone, waiting for the waitress who was serving you to come back.
“‘Allo?” You looked up to see a tall man with tan skin and brown hair and brown eyes. He wore sandals, swim shorts and an open button up shirt, giving everybody a view of his perfectly defined abs. He was a tall, European glass of water. Nothing compared to Titus, though.
“Hello.” You responded politely.
“Uh, sorry, ma'am to bother you,” He had a very thick French accent. “You see my friends over there?” He pointed over to a group of very similar looking men, all with various shades of the same hairstyle as his. You looked back at the man in front of you.
“Yeah...?”
“I'm so sorry but they dared me to ask if I could buy you a drink sometime.”
You laughed. “Uh... no thank you.”
“Why not?”
“Because she's on her honeymoon, asshole.” You heard Titus behind you, scowling and biting back like a dog.
“Oh merde, I'm sorry–”
He grabbed his collar and spit on his face. “If I see you bothering my wife again I'll fucking kill you,” Titus let go of his collar and pushed him away. “Understood?”
“Oui, y-yes, sir, I'm sorry–”
“Fuck off.” He snarled before returning to his seat across from you. The boy ran away like a scurrying rat, caught rummaging through the garbage for food.
“Titus–”
“He should really fucking know better, huh?”
“Yeah,” You sipped your coffee. “He should know better.”
-
This was the point of a honeymoon.
Titus in between your thighs, sucking and licking against your cunt, filling your aching pussy with his fingers and cock. Your cramps were fucking awful, but he seemed to be able to massage away at parts of you that you never could yourself. He whispered promises into you and told you how much he loved you and wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. You felt so overwhelmed from his touch and you sobbed. He was spurred on further by your tears.
When he hooked his fingers upupup into you, causing you to gush onto his face, causing his prickly facial hair to shine like glitter in the intimate light of the hotel room. When he kissed you softly and deeply as he fucked you slow and sensual, your mouth crying out noises you only made for Titus. Your husband, your man. When he kissed your breasts and nipples and bit down on the skin, leaving bruises and scars you never wanted to get rid of. When your man fucked you on the private beach, when your man fucked you as you read Blue of Noon and cried over the lines Titus had highlighted with a shaky green highlighter. You felt like you finally had somebody who understood the darkest parts of you and wasn't afraid to live in them. You kept a wide, open door for him so you could let him in your heart whenever he wanted to.
He whispered confessions in your ear like a guilty Catholic and loved you like the air he breathed. He told you how much he wanted to have babies with you, how great of a mother you would be. He told you how much he wanted to watch you grow old, how he wanted to see the wrinkles he had around his eyes, how he wanted to leave permanent scars on your body to make sure everybody who looked at you knew that you belonged to him. You were a trophy, and you shone like you were freshly polished.
There were multiple nightclubs in Cannes within walking distance of the hotel you were staying at, so one night you and Titus decided to get dressed up and go out. He had sent one of his personal assistants out and bought you a whole new wardrobe and you picked the tiniest dress from the curated collection of items. It was a short dress that stopped mid thigh, flared out against your skin with short pleats like a schoolgirl. The fabric was a tightly sewn light purple satin that was boned and corseted on the top of the dress, pushing up your tits and hugging your curves. You styled your hair so that it was out of your face and ready to be filled with sweat as you rolled on molly with Titus as planned.
You decided to only fill in your brows a bit and put on some waterproof mascara, knowing that you'll be fucked up by the end of the night dampening any need to put on a full face, showing your glowing skin from all of the time out in the French sun with Titus. You felt a bit bloated from your period, but it didn't matter. You felt sexy. An experience you hadn't had in a long time.
Titus walked into the bedroom where you were getting ready and saw you through the vanity mirror where you sat spraying perfume on your neck. The ring on your finger shined as you smoothed back the baby hairs near your ears.
“Looking good, Mrs. Danforth.” He complimented. He wore a baggy green t-shirt and with a pair of dark, clean blue jeans that fit him in all of the ways you wanted, with a thick, dark brown leather belt that screamed he's fucking big and heavy.
“Looking good, Mr. Danforth.” He passed you a mirror with the molly lined up for you and you snorted it. He passed you a bottle of vitamin C supplements and a bottle of Gatorade to take before you really started rolling. He snorted his lines and took some vitamin C and finished the half of the Gatorade bottle you didn't finish.
“You wanna get wasted?”
You nodded gleefully.
-
Bisous Bisous was a night club that was perfect for rolling.
The DJ was playing heavy music and it was crowded and hot, but you clung onto Titus. You didn't want him to be apart from you. Your body felt weightless and your mouth hung open like a sex doll. You danced with Titus for hours, intermittently making out with him when the molly rushed you too. You took shots and drank beer and you were floating with him, his eyes wrinkled from all of the cheesy smiles he gave you as you grinded your hips against his.
Titus watched you like a hawk, his eyes dilated and focused on you. It was only when he stepped away to get you another beer when your French admirer took another stupid chance with you.
“You're looking good tonight.” He yelled over the music, catching your attention, making you turn around. Your brows raised in surprise as you looked him up and down. He was wearing the same stupid outfit from this morning, only missing the button up shirt, his torso naked and sweaty in a way you didn't like.
“What's your name?” You asked.
“Alain.” He answered.
“Alain,” You slurred, obviously high and drunk. “I would really appreciate it if you left me and my husband alone.”
“You don't want me one bit?” He crossed his arms and pouted.
You laughed maniacally at that.
You showed Alain your ring finger. “I'm currently painfully monogamous."
“How can I change your mind?”
You laughed again. Harder. Crazier. You saw Titus walk behind him with a bottle of sweating Corona, a lime placed on the top perfectly. He looked over at Alain and rolled his eyes. You took the bottle of his hands and pulled the lime out of the bottle.
“Alain?”
“Yeah?”
“If you don't get the fuck away from me and my husband I will squeeze this lime directly into your fucking eyes.”
“She will.” Titus grabbed your waist and started kissing your neck. You squeezed the lime threateningly. He turned around and left.
“I'm gonna fucking kill him if he comes up to me again, Titus.”
“You're so sexy right now. I need you.” He whispered into your ear. You shuttered, turning your head around and kissing him deeply. He groaned deeply into your mouth and you took his hand and placed it on your crotch in the middle of the dancefloor. You knew you were aching for him, your period making you go insane for him.
“Bathroom,” You said into his mouth. “Now.”
“Say no more.” He turned you around and pulled you off of the dancefloor and into a pre-scoped out empty single bathroom that he made sure to secure to fuck you raw and hard in. You watched him open the door for you and lock it behind him before pressing you against the wall, attacking your lips with his.
“Titus...” You moaned as his hands made it up and down the sides of your body, riding up the fabric of your dress against your thighs, bunching up at your hips. He went to take off your flimsy thong that was already soaked through with not only your slick but from the sweat that was dripping off of your skin. After he took it off, you stopped him for a moment.
You remember the first time Titus saw your beloved diva cup. You were in the brothel and your period started one morning when you woke up so you rushed to the bathroom, looking for your tried and true, the piece of silicone that you shoved up your vagina every month. You couldn't find it and you panicked, hyperfixating so much that you woke up Titus with your hurried movements.
“What are you looking for?” He asked, his shoulder pressed against the doorframe.
“My diva cup.”
“Your what?”
“Don't you have a sister?”
“Yeah.”
“She menstrates?”
“Yeah.”
“You know what a tampon is?”
He laughed uncomfortably. “I'm not fucking stupid, Mary.”
“It's a cup that goes up my vagina and collects my blood.”
He pointed to the top of your medicine cabinet, where you placed it haphazardly after boiling it clean. “Is that it?”
You laughed. “Yeah, thanks.” You picked it up and took your panties off, squeezing the opening in between your fingers and thumb.
“So that goes up...?”
“Yeah, it goes up.”
“Okay, cool.”
You looked at him as you inserted it up your vagina. You shifted your hips to get used to the feeling, then put your panties back on. You went back to sleep with Titus. Later, as he ate you out, he asked how to take it out.
“I can do that–”
“I want to, please.” You felt his fingertips at the base of the cup, where the nipple-like tip stuck out of your vagina.
“Okay... squeeze the base with your fingers.”
You felt him follow his instructions. The suction of the cup released in your walls.
“Now slowly pull it out, don't get blood all over my bedsheets.”
“Trust me, baby, I got it...” You felt the cup leave your body and Titus held the full cup like a chalice.
“Now get up and dump it in the toilet.”
“Don't think I'm gonna do that.”
“Why?”
“I wanna taste every part of you.” He tipped the base of the cup on his lips and poured into his mouth, the thin blood dripping down the sides of his mouth.
You should've been disgusted, but you were extremely turned on. He was gross and perverted in a way that just seemed to click to you.
So in the Bisous Bisous bathroom, you allowed him to take your diva cup out. He swallowed your blood. You loved your vampire husband.
He fucked your cramps away, putting your legs in positions against the bathroom counter that you didn't know was possible. You felt his large, thick cock fuck you inside out and you cried out in pleasure. He came inside of you, his come mixing together with your blood as it seeped out of you. You blacked out.
-
You didn't know how you got back to the hotel. All you knew that your muscles were sore from over use and your mouth was parched. You felt your diva cup back inside you, you must've put it back in or Titus did. You saw a tall glass of water on the nightstand, you assumed Titus had left it. Reaching over, you chugged it, your throat bobbing up and down. You put down the glass and examined your surroundings. Alain was sitting in a chair, rope tying his arms and legs together.
He was bloody, dried blood staining the edges of his mouth and bruises blooming beneath the tan skin that ran across his ribs. What the fuck happened last night?
“Good morning, sweetheart.” Titus entered the room with flighty feet and a tray of breakfast for you. He spoke softly.
“Good morning...” You pointed over to Alain. “What the fuck happened last night?”
He chuckled. “You don't remember?”
“No. I think I blacked out after having sex with you in the bathroom.” You started poking at your breakfast, scrambled eggs with bacon and sausage. You swallowed a piece of bacon whole.
“Okay, well, after that, he came back up to the two of us and I decided to trick him. I told him I would let him fuck you if I was in the room. That didn't happen. I beat him up.”
Your heart pounded in your chest. “What?”
“Yeah. Had some fun. You tied him up.”
“Where did we get the rope?”
“I brought it with me. Wanted to try some stuff out with you.”
You heard Alain grumble something French as he woke up. His heavy head lifted up and you could see the major black eye forming around his right eye. “Oh, I'm still ‘ere.”
“Good morning, Alain!” Titus exclaimed. He walked over to him and punched him in the face again. He spit out blood at the impact.
“Va te faire foutre, Titus.” He said sharply.
“What was that, buddy?” He bent down to his eye level, his green t-shirt now stained with blood and sweat.
“Fuck you, Titus!”
He laughed. “As much as I wish I could, I just don't swing that way! But, hey! How about I give you something better?”
“What?”
“I let you watch me fuck my wife. I mean,” He pulled at the tightly tied rope against Alain's skin. “I'm fucking horny, and it's not like you're going anywhere.”
Alain laughed slowly. “Whatever, man.”
“I think this is a very important lesson, Alain,” He walked towards you on the bed, where your sleepy, hazy mind watched Titus with an open mouth and dilated eyes. “You can't take what's not yours.” He started kissing you, hard, with intensity that matched yours. You felt Titus’ hands on your body and you felt like you were floating. He pulled you closer to him and you heard Alain sigh.
“Hey Alain.” You said as Titus kissed your neck, slipping the straps of the flimsy tank top you were wearing off of your shoulders, exposing your breasts to the cool air of the room.
“What?”
“You better keep your eyes on us at all times. If not, I'll fucking kill you.”
“She's not fucking joking,” Titus said. “I'd help her bury the body.”
God, what did you do to deserve him?
“I love you, Mr. Danforth.”
“I love you, Mrs. Danforth.” You felt your heart beat pounding in your chest. You took his hand and placed it over your heart. He kissed you again and you pulled at his t-shirt and he separated from you for a second to take it off. You pawed at his chest and he groaned and kissed you again.
He took off your panties and immediately latched onto your cunt. “Hey Alain, you watching?”
“Oui.”
“English, motherfucker!” He yelled before spitting on your wet cunt.
“Yes, you pervert.”
“You hear that sweetie? He called me a pervert.”
You laughed, looking Alain in the eyes. “I think we should really show him how perverted we are.” You reached in between your legs and pinched the diva cup out of your body. Alain watched with disgust. Titus looked at you with admiration. You reached out, holding the full cup over Titus’ head, then dumping it over his beautiful grey hair. His tongue stuck out and collected the thin blood that dripped down on his face.
“God, I love the way you taste.” He kissed you again before moving down towards your cunt, enveloping his mouth against your pussy lips. He was covered in your blood, looking like a wrestler who just did a really good blade job.
“Quel couple de malades, putain, de vrais pervers.” Alain muttered.
“What was that, Alain?” He asked, lips against you.
“Nothing, Titus.”
“Didn’t sound like nothing, but I’ll give you a pass this time, because I want you to know about my wife’s pussy,” Titus spread you out and you felt your breath hitch. “Sometimes she's so sensitive, so needy, I can barely touch her and she's gushing on my face. Alain, listen up, this is jerk off material for the rest of your life!”
You moaned once Titus latched onto your clit, his familiar tongue flicking and drowning you into desperation. “She likes her clit being played with, you know how to find that?”
“A clit? Of course I fucking do.”
He slurped against your cunt and you whined, feeling your orgasm coming quickly to you. “She can be so easy for it sometimes, Alain, but that's okay... it just makes it easier to overestimate her Doubt you know anything about that, though.”
“Fuck off, man.”
“I don't believe you've ever actually made a woman come,” He slid two fingers inside of you and went upupup the way you loved. You whimpered and moaned like a puppy. “You've never seen a woman writhe and wiggle underneath you like this. Watch her, Alain, watch what it's like to see a woman come.”
You felt your orgasm come to you like Titus said it would. You came hard and fast, your walls clamping down on his fingers, your chest rising up and down quickly. “Oh baby, you're doing so well for me, you're a good wife, aren't you baby?”
“Yes Titus, I'm a good wife for you.”
“Yeah, baby, be a good wife for me and suck my cock,” He pulled down his pants and exposed his hard cock to you and Alain. “Look at that baby, you think this cock compares to his?”
“No baby, I only want your cock, only yours.”
“Yeah, that's right, now suck baby, you know how I like it.”
He laid down on the bed, his flush cock pressed against his stomach, waiting for your open and inviting mouth. You took it greedily, sucking up and down with your expert mouth.
“Alain, you'll have no idea how good of a cocksucker she is, holy fuck, listen to those sounds they're fucking absurd.” You looked over at Alain. He was hard, his cock pressed up against his shorts.
“Titus, he's hard.” You told him after letting go of his cock.
“How pathetic of him, right? Getting hard while being forced to watch us fuck.”
“So pathetic.” You went down and sucked his balls into your mouth, the velvety skin nice against your tongue.
“Oh baby, oh fuck, nobody sucks cock like you do, oh fuck, Alain, watch how she sucks cock.”
“I'm watching, Titus.” He said, defeated.
You took his cock and shoved it down your throat, obscene noises coming from your throat. “Lemme fuck that beautiful throat of yours, honey.” He grabbed onto your hair, close to your scalp, where you felt his nails dig into the skin. He pressed the tip of his cock to the back of your throat, where he thrusted in and out of you, causing glugglugglug noises to fill the room. Tears streamed past your eyes as he continued to fuck your throat. Thank God you don't have a gag reflex.
“Alain, you know, she was a prostitute when I met her,” He pulled his cock out of your mouth and pulled you towards his lips, kissing you before positioning your hips on top of his cock. “Such a sad girl, my wife was, but my cock makes her happy, right baby?”
He entered you and you felt so full, the stretch familiar and kind to you. “Yes, Titus, oh fuck.”
“I make her happy, not you Alain, little French fuckboy.” He spit towards Alain, landing on top of his face. Alain winced.
“Titus, fuck me, show him how good you make me feel, teach him a lesson.”
Titus’ mouth dropped open, his brows knit in concentration. “Yeah, baby, I'll teach him a lesson alright.” He fucked you deeper and harder, his hips snapping and meeting yours. He was digging into spots only he could, fucking you in the way only he could. You cried more, bending down to kiss him sloppily and messily.
“Titus, you fill me up so well, ohmygod.”
“Yeah, I know I do, because whose bed are you in every night?”
“Yours, Titus, not Alain's.”
“That's right baby,” His thumb found its way to your clit and you cried more and more, deep in both love and lust for him. Your husband. “You'll never get pussy this good. Ever.” He fucked you with a vengeance. You sobbed.
“Choke me, Titus, please.”
“What a polite wife you are,” He wrapped his hand on your neck, squeezing with all of his strength. “Look at you, so good for me, aren't you?”
“Harder.” You strained out.
“You hear that? She needs it harder.” He followed your request, your face turning pale from the lack of blood. You felt your orgasm coming soon – so did Titus.
“I'm–”
“Come for me, come on my cock baby, come on.”
With no breath, you came hard. Overwhelmed, you squirted on his cock, spraying on his perfect stomach and soaking him. He let go of your neck, letting the blood rush back to your face. You loved it when Titus choked you. You loved it when he controlled the breath you took.
“What a good wife you are, baby, coming for me like that,” Titus kissed you, his cock continuing to fuck you like the whore you are. “I'm gonna make you come again, then I'm gonna fill you up baby, then we'll decide what we're gonna do with this French asshole.”
Your eyes rolled into your skull. He fucked you harder and you felt every inch of him inside of you and you felt overwhelmed with lust and emotion and you felt so grateful that Titus was in your life and that he paid that guy to burn down the brothel because if you were stuck there you would've never known that anybody could match your perverted mind and you cried as he got you closer and closer to ultimate pleasure and happiness and fuck you came again with no warning.
“Good wife, good wife, fuckkkkk, you come so good, you come so well for me, oh fuck– I'm– Oh fuck baby, it's a big one, you can take it, right baby? Oh fuck–”
When Titus came, every vein underneath the skin of his neck and face protruded. When Titus came, his grunts were sharp and ragged, uncontrollable and haunting to your ears. When Titus came, it was always inside of you, because he needed to see your pretty cunt filled up with his load.
“Oh, fuck me, baby, you did so well, you good?”
You nodded. “I'm so good, baby, ugh, I love you.”
He kissed you slowly, his heartbeat slowing down with his orgasm. He pulled out and flopped beside you on the bed, his eyes screwed shut. “I love you too, baby, fuck.”
You both laid on the bed, your breaths coming back to rhythm as you both came down from your highs. Alain shuffled his feet against the hardwood floor of the hotel room. You looked up from where you laid and you saw Alain struggling against the ropes that bound him to the chair. You shook your head, tsking towards him.
Titus got up from the bed, bare naked, cock still leaking out come. “What do you think you're doing?”
“I'm trying to get out, asshole.”
“How much money do I gotta give you to never breathe a word of this?”
“What?”
“You heard me. Unless you're deaf along with being fucking stupid.”
“You honestly expect me to let you bribe me?”
“A million, five million? Come on, time is ticking, Alain.”
He started laughing. “You're not that rich.”
“He is,” You commented. “He's dealt with the devil rich. Take the money, we'll never talk to each other ever again. Win-win for both of us.”
Titus looked at you with pride. Alain thought for a minute. “How fast can you get me the money?”
“I got my banker on speed dial, if you give me your banking details I could wire transfer it in an hour.”
He looked in between the pair of naked bodies in front of him. “Ten million.”
“Ten million? No problem. You want to shake on it?” Titus asked with crossed arms, his naked pale skin reflecting the morning streaming through the window.
“You're going to have to untie me if you want to shake on it.”
“You're going to shake on it, then I'm gonna untie you,” Titus took his hand that was sticking out from underneath the ropes and Alain shook it as much as he could. “There, was that so hard?” Titus bent down and untied Alain from the chair. Once his wrists were free he rubbed the skin, agitated from the rope.
“Titus, your phone.” You passed it to him. He pulled up his contacts and called his banker. Alain stared at the two of you nervously.
“David, hi, how are you doing? I'm good, man, thanks for asking, I'm in Cannes with my wife. She's good, yeah, uh, listen I need you to do a wire transfer for me, ten million to a Mr. Alain...”
“Matthieu.” Alain answered.
“Matthieu.”
Titus got Alain to give him his banking information and David confirmed that the transfer was successful. David didn't have any questions as to why. He just did what Titus told him.
Titus walked Alain out of the hotel room, still butt naked, thanked him for being a good man and wished him well. He returned back to you, flopping his body onto the bed, his needy hands grabbing your body and pulling you close.
“That was insane.” He said into your ear.
“Yeah, it was.”
“You know what's crazier?”
“What?”
“He has two first names.”
You laughed, pushing your body closer to his. “He does.”
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a lil drabble about being prey in titus danforth's hunt. he always gets what he wants- this IS a lil dark- so warning goes out to yall <3
♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
your back is pressed against the rough bark of an oak tree, your chest heaving with silent, controlled breaths. the forest is dark around you, moonlight filtering through the canopy in scattered patches of silver. somewhere in the distance, you can hear shouting. screaming. the sounds of the hunt.
you've been running for what feels like hours.
your hands are still shaking from the last encounter. one of the younger cult members, cocky and overconfident, who'd cornered you near the garden maze. he hadn't expected you to fight back. hadn't expected the rock you'd grabbed, the way you'd brought it down on his skull with desperate, survival-driven force.
he'd gone down hard. stayed down.
you'd killed two others before him. taken their weapons, their advantages, turned their own hunt against them. you're not just prey anymore. you're dangerous. you've proven that.
but titus is different.
titus danforth isn't like the others. he's not reckless, arrogant or drunk on the thrill of the chase. he's calculated. trained since childhood for this exact scenario, bred from generations of hunters who perfected the art of the kill. he moves through the forest like a shadow, silent and inevitable.
and he's hunting you.
you press yourself harder against the tree, forcing your breathing to slow, to quiet. your heart is hammering so loud you're sure he can hear it, sure it's giving you away with every frantic beat. the forest has gone eerily quiet around you. no more shouting. no more screams.
just silence.
then you hear it.
"bunnyyy..."
his voice drifts through the trees, low and taunting, almost sing-song. it's coming from somewhere to your left, maybe fifty yards away. maybe closer. it's impossible to tell in the dark.
your blood runs cold.
"where'd you hop off to? hmm...?" there's amusement in his tone, dark and predatory. "i'm missing your little tricks, bun."
you don't move. don't breathe. every muscle in your body is locked tight, frozen in place. if you run now, he'll hear you. if you stay, he might pass by. might miss you in the darkness.
but you know better.
titus doesn't miss.
"come on, bunny," he calls out, his voice closer now. definitely closer. "play with me. play nice, and i might reward you..."
your thighs clench involuntarily at his words, heat pooling low in your belly despite the terror coursing through your veins. you hate yourself for it- for the way your body responds to him. to the danger, to the promise in his voice. this is life or death. this is survival.
but god, the way he says it...
you can hear his footsteps now, slow and deliberate, crunching through the underbrush. he's not trying to be quiet anymore. he doesn't need to. he knows you're close. knows you're listening.
"i have to admit," he continues, his voice carrying through the night air, "i'm impressed. you took out three family members tonight... that's more than anyone's managed in years."
your fingers dig into the bark behind you, nails scraping against the rough surface.
"but you and i both know how this ends, don't we?" his footsteps stop. you can feel him listening, searching. "you can't run forever. and even if you could... would you really want to?"
yes. no. you don't know anymore.
you peek around the edge of the tree, just barely, just enough to see-
he's standing in a clearing about thirty feet away, his back to you. he's dressed in all black, a crossbow hanging loosely in one hand. even from here, you can see the tension in his shoulders, the predatory grace in the way he holds himself. he's a weapon, honed and perfected over decades of training.
and you're just a girl who got unlucky enough to draw the wrong card.
"i can smell your fear, you know," he says suddenly, and you jerk back behind the tree, your heart leaping into your throat. "it's intoxicating. the way your pulse races. the way your breath catches."
he turns slowly, scanning the tree line. you press yourself flat against the bark, praying the shadows hide you.
"but there's something else too, isn't there?" his voice drops lower, intimate and knowing. "something you don't want to admit. you're scared... but you're also excited."
your face burns hot. he's right. god help you, he's right.
"i've been watching you alllll night," he continues, taking a step toward your section of the forest. then another. "the way you move. the way you fight. you're magnificent, bunny. absolutely magnificent."
another step. closer.
"most of them just run. just scream and beg and die. but not you." there's genuine admiration in his voice now, mixed with that dark possessiveness you've come to recognize. "you fight. you survive. you're everything i've been looking for."
your breath hitches despite your best efforts to stay silent.
"there you are."
your eyes snap open wide. he's looking directly at your tree now, his head tilted slightly, a slow smile spreading across his face. even in the darkness, you can see the gleam in his eyes- hungry and triumphant.
"found you, bunny."
you bolt.
your legs are moving before your brain catches up. adrenaline flooding your system as you crash through the underbrush. behind you, you hear his laugh— low and delighted. absolutely terrifying.
"that's it," he calls out, and you can hear him giving chase now, his footsteps quick and sure behind you. "run for me. make it fun."
you dodge around trees, leap over fallen logs, your lungs burning with the effort. you're fast- fear makes you fast- but he's faster. trained for this. bred for this.
you can hear him gaining on you, closing the distance with every stride.
"you can't outrun me," he says, and his voice is so close now, right behind you. "i've been doing this since i was six years old. this is what i was made for."
you risk a glance over your shoulder and immediately regret it. he's right there, maybe ten feet back, his eyes locked on you with single-minded focus. the crossbow is gone now. he doesn't need it.
he wants to catch you with his bare hands.
your foot catches on a root and you stumble, barely catching yourself before you fall. it's enough. in that split second of imbalance, he's on you.
his arm wraps around your waist from behind, yanking you back against his chest. you scream, thrashing wildly, but his grip is iron. unbreakable.
"got you," he breathes against your ear, and you can hear the satisfaction in his voice. the victory.
"let me go-" you gasp, still struggling, but he just tightens his hold.
"not a chance, bunny." his other hand comes up to grip your jaw, forcing your head back against his shoulder. "you're mine now. you've always been mine. this whole hunt was just... foreplay."
your heart is racing so fast you think it might explode. his body is solid and warm against your back, his breath hot on your neck. you should be terrified. you are terrified.
but you're also achingly, desperately aroused.
"i could kill you right now," he murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "one quick movement and it would all be over... but where's the fun in that?"
his hand slides from your jaw down to your throat, fingers wrapping around it possessively. not squeezing- just holding. claiming.
"no," he continues, his voice dropping to something dark and promising. "i have much better plans for you, bunny. you're going to be my prize. my reward for winning the hunt."
you whimper despite yourself, your body betraying you completely.
"that's what i thought," he says. you can hear the smile in his voice. "you want this just as much as i do. maybe more."
he spins you around suddenly, pressing you back against a tree, his body caging you in. in the moonlight, you can finally see his face clearly. sharp and handsome and absolutely predatory. his eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with desire and triumph.
"please-" you start, but you don't even know what you're begging for anymore.
"shh," he soothes, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "i told you i'd reward you if you played nice. and you've been so entertaining tonight, bunny. so fierce. so perfect."
his mouth crashes against yours, rough and demanding, swallowing your gasp. his hands are everywhere. your waist, your hips, tangling in your hair. he kisses like he hunts-
with complete control and devastating precision.
when he finally pulls back, you're both breathing hard.
"mine," he says simply, his forehead pressed against yours. "you're mine now. the hunt is over. i won."
and despite everything- the fear, the danger, the absolute insanity of this entire night, you find yourself nodding.
because he's right.
he always wins.
and maybe... maybe you wanted to be caught all along. 🖤
synopsis: Titus saves you from the mediocrity of wedding planning
warnings/notes: fluff. part of my 9k celebration.
wc: 628
It had been a long day and it wasn’t even noon. You and Titus had been married for less than a week, though no one was aware of that save for the few Le Bail followers that had been invited to the satanic ceremony. Now, Ursula had you running around planning the public wedding that you very much did not want.
You’d never been one for pomp and circumstance. In fact, you’d always imagined if you married you would elope somewhere tropical, just you and the groom and perhaps a witness or two. Ursula demanded a public spectacle. “Danforths do not elope,” she’d said and walked out of the room to end the conversation.
You were on your way to the dining room where you were to have a “working lunch” as she’d put it. Apparently, it was vitally important you pick the table linens today. You hated this, every aspect of it. And to make matters worse, you hadn’t seen Titus all day. He’d left before dawn to take care of some business and had given no indication of when he’d return. Lucky bastard.
As you passed a cross hallway, a heavy familiar hand pulled you sideways. You found yourself with your back against the wall, Titus leaning into you with his hands braced on the wall above your head. He pressed his lips against yours and gave you a slow, lingering kiss. When he finally pulled back, he gave you a crooked smile. “Hello, sweetheart.”
Your fingers flexed feeling the broad expanse of the chest beneath your hands. “Hello, Titus. You’re going to make me late for lunch with your sister.”
He huffed in irritation before tracing the line of your neck with his lips. You tilted your head to give him better access. When he reached your ear, he paused. “Canceled.”
“And did your sister agree to that?” The words came out breathy and broken. Gods, what this man did to you.
“She didn’t have much of a choice.”
Realizing he was serious, you pushed against his chest. He allowed you to put a small amount of distance between you. “What did you do, Titus?”
“You and I are leaving tonight for the Mediterranean. We will have a very small, private ceremony, photos of which will be sent to the press. Then we will proceed to travel anywhere you wish for eight weeks.” His eyes studied your face, undoubtedly looking for any sort of disagreement.
“There is no way Ursula agreed to this.” She had been the one screaming about protocol and appearances. If it was up to you, you’d share nothing of your marriage with the rest of the world.
He straightened, looking immensely proud of himself. “That, dear wife, is the genius of my plan. Upon our return, we will host a reception here at the estate. I have informed Ursula that she is in charge of absolutely everything except your dress. That we are leaving every detail in her very capable hands.”
“Are you telling me that in one morning you have arranged for us to have a two month honeymoon and shoved all of these inane decisions off on your sister and she’s okay with it?” You couldn’t keep the hope from tinting your voice.
“I dare say she’s thrilled, actually.”
You lunged at him, throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him soundly. “You are the best husband.”
He hummed against your lips as he wrapped his arms around your waist. “Remember that. Now, we have much to do if we want to leave on time.”
Your fingers played with the fringe of hair at his neck. “I don’t know, Mr. Danforth. I’d say we have time for a little distraction.”
I love your writing! You capture characters so well and have such cool ideas. Could I request a Titus Danforth smau x sugar baby!reader? Brown reader/woc would be cool too
Take your time and understand if you're not interested, thank you so much either way!
normally i would do one for titus too but that man does NOT have social media sorry
