#danforth

[fangirl-dot-com]

was it the people or the wind who asked for this? neither, it was me and @oxalaia-quilombensis 😛

fic isn’t completed but i’m already at 3.3k words of pure deliciousness 😎

[bullet-prooflove]

Given, Not Taken: Titus Danforth x Reader (NSFW)

Summary: You give yourself over to Titus entirely on your wedding night.

SET AFTER:

First Blood - Titus’s first hunt takes an unexpected turn…

Ma Biche - An act of vengence at your Swiss boarding school has dire consquences for your future.

White Lilies - A boutique of flowers leads you to make a decision about your predicament.

Just A Taste (NSFW) - Titus gives you a taste of your wedding night… and reveals the Danforth’s great secret.

First Times (NSFW) - Titus decides to give you another first after you ask him to teach you what he likes.

A Red Wedding - You and Titus tie the knot in an unexpected place.

SET BEFORE:

The Goddess & The Hell Hound: Titus Danforth x Reader (NSFW) - One year after the horrific events in Paris, Titus and his wife begin to heal in their own special way.

The Game - Tonight’s game night is a special event.

Come Out, Come Out Wherever You Are (NSFW) - Torture is just the foreplay, it’s death that’s the main event.

The Farrier - Titus wakes up to screaming and ends up going on an inpromptu hunt of his own.

Punishment (NSFW) - Titus decides to teach you a lesson after the events of The Farrier.

Shock Value (NSFW) - Titus surprises you with a special gift after your night goes awry.

Titus expects you to be shy your first time.

He expects you to be nervous, anxious but instead you’re bold, fierce. You straddle his hips like the queen you are, fingers toying with the buttons of his shirt as your wedding dress, made of stars, blood and fire settles around you in a hotel suite in New York.

“I have wanted this for so long.” His voice is rough, a low rumble that vibrates through your chest as his fingers guide the zipper down along the curve of your spine, the fabric revealing you inch by decadent inch. “I’ve always known you were mine. That every part of me was made for every part of you.”

The neckline loosens, slipping from your shoulders. He helps it the rest of the way, freeing you of its confines until the techni-colour fabric pools around your waist. You’re breathtaking in the light from the chandelier, the crystals reflect a warm, dulcet glow across your skin as you lean back on your palms, your breasts arching up, desperate for his wanton mouth.

His fingertips trace patterns over your bare skin, weaving fiery hot trails up along your waist until his palms find those two pert little rose buds. His thumbs tracing over their outline until they stiffen into deviant peaks. His arm loops around your hips, drawing your entire body back against him. He draws your left nipple into his mouth, tongue swirling over that needy nub, making you cry out as it whispers against his teeth.

Your hands roam underneath his suit jacket, pushing it from his shoulders. He watches as you unfasten each of the buttons on his shirt, your urgency growing underneath his lips as he sucks his mark into the hollow of your throat, purple blossoming against your skin. His forehead presses against yours as the shirt is vanquished, your fingertips beginning their exploration of his muscular chest. They trace over the scars he’s accumulated during his brief amount of time on this earth, the ones his father left when he disobeyed.

“I’m not pretty like you.” He says apologetically as you trace over ridged edges and raised skin.

“I wouldn’t say that’s true.” You whisper back, the edges of your mouth tipping up into that smile he fell in love with. “I happen to think you’re very pretty.”

He huffs out a laugh as your nose trails down along the curve of his throat, your mouth leaving heated kisses that make his insides light up like the Fourth of July. He tumbles you down underneath him, the dress fanning out around your hips as he claims your mouth, crushing the fabric between you. He grasps the remains of your dress, the material coiling in his fist as he drags it down along the rest of your body, throwing it from the mattress.

Your hands fumble with his belt, tugging the leather tongue from the silver buckle with a franticness he feels in the depths of his bones as he watches.

“Take these off.” You demand, wrestling with the clasp. “I want to feel all of you.”

He pulls away reluctantly, already missing the warmth of your skin as he shoves them down his thighs along with his underwear. His cock slaps against his stomach, leaving a smear of pre-cum across his treasure trail that glistens in under the chandelier.

The way you look at him in that moment… like he’s something to be revered, to be adored.

It’s a powerful feeling, one that sweeps him off his feet everytime as he climbs with on the bed full of feral intention. His body covers yours, draping over you like a heated blanket, enveloping you in his warmth. Your thighs fasten around his hips, your foot hooking underneath his ass, welcoming him into that hot, delicate space between your legs. He groans into your mouth as his cock rubs through your wetness, coating him with your arousal. The tip of his cock catches, and you whine, your fingertips daggering into his shoulders as he hovers at the breech, petals barely parted around the head of his dick.

“If it gets too much tell me.” He murmurs, his dark eyes locked on yours, pools of nighttime sky scattered with stars. “I want this to be good for you… I want…”

You tilt your hips and the air punches out of his chest as you take that first inch. He hisses through his teeth at the sensation, that balmy tightness hugging the tip of his cock as he tries to keep his shit together and let you adjust.

“Oh.” You whisper and it’s good sound, a desperate one that has him pulling out and driving in another inch, watching your face intently. A whimper leaves your mouth, your head tipping back into the pillow as he repeats the action again and again until he’s fully sheathed inside you.

“Oh god that feels so good, that feels…”

Your breath is stolen as he starts to move, slow, careful thrusts that have your heart quickening as you fall into rhythm with him. Your hands run up his back, his mouth capturing yours as he chases your pleasure like the good husband he is, listening to your ebbs and flows, following the current as it builds and builds like waves on the ocean, pounding against the shore. The tide breaks and suddenly you’re clenching around his dick, teeth sinking into his shoulder with a savagery that makes his cock pulse inside you. He spills his release deep, white hot streaks painting you with his spent as he claims his virgin bride.

His kisses are messy and languid as you lay breathless underneath him, your thighs gripping him, keeping him buried deep as his auburn curls fall over his features.

“Is it always like this?” You ask him, your fingertips tracing over his jaw as you look at him the way he’d always hoped you would. With eyes made only for him.

“No.” He whispers, his thumb ghosts over the apple of your flushed cheek as he speaks his truth. “It’s only ever been like this with you.”

It’s when you head into the bathroom to shower that he spots the blood on the sheets. It’s a small crimson smear, evidence of your consummation, of a virginity given, not taken. He tears them from the mattress before calling the concierge, demanding fresh ones.

When they arrive, he shoves the bloodied ones into her arms with a smugness in his smile and a tone that threatens death unless his instructions are followed to the letter.

“Send these to Charles Laurate.” He tells the poor woman as she clutches them to her chest. “I want him to know exactly what he lost tonight.”

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[lancey-lance-963]

Dennis was a better fit into the Danforth family than most of the Danforths could have believed.

He grew up in rural communities where gossip ran like liquor. He didn't snark back or get riled up like the rest of the family, and at a certain point the rest of the family gets used to being able to say whatever they want in front of him.

But if you look closely, you see the eyes narrow and the slight turns of his head, and it's almost like he's listening and considering. But really it's just a decision being made.

The waitstaff of the manor see Dennis slink down the hallway out of his and Titus' bedroom in the middle of the night. He's always polite, always smiling as he tells them not to wake up Titus, and then sneak back in before the sun rises through the house's large windows. If he comes back too late he stayed downstairs, waiting in the kitchen for breakfast and for Titus to come in grumbling about being left alone when he wakes up.

"Where'd you go anyway? The staff said you were gone."

"I just wanted to take Princess for a walk." (The sweet, beautiful pup that Titus had gotten for Dennis after their first marital spat.)

"Why didn't you come back after the walk?"

"Don't pout, Titus, I'm sorry."

All that earned was more grumbling and an arm catching Dennis around the waist as he passes close enough to Titus' chair.

"…Did you at least have fun?" He rasped, sweeping his thumb over the dip of Dennis's spine as he kissed Titus's forehead.

"Oh yeah. Much more than I thought I would."

Titus doesn't think twice about it until he gets a letter saying one of his cousins had died last night in his sleep; asphyxiation, officially, the poor man had been smoking cigars all his life. Unfortunate but not unheard of. Titus pauses when he reads the cause of death and looks up at his pretty wife lounging on the deep green fainting couch by the window

He was the vision of innocence, cuddling with Princess and just looking out the window while the sun made his hair glow.

"Angel?"

"Hmm?"

"Cousin Maximus died last night- poor fucker choked in his sleep." Dennis hummed, his nose wrinkling slightly.

"Is that the one that smoked those nasty cigars in the living room?"

"They aren't nasty, they're Cuban."

"Those nasty Cuban cigars, my bad."

And the air is heavy with... something. Something that Titus can't name. He got up and strolled over slowly, absently petting Princess's head as he leaned down to press a kiss to his curls. He paused. A scent clung to his hair.

Cigar smoke.

"Everything okay?"

Titus looked down at him and Dennis could swear he sees something click in his eyes, the slight widening. But it's flits away just as quickly as Titus shrugs.

"Right as rain, angel."

It becomes a bit of a rhythm. Once in a while, Titus will wake up by himself and a letter will be on his desk by midday.

Maybe he should be more worried about his lovely wife killing off family members, but he always picks well. People he didn't like, the only people in the world who could rattle him. Most of the family is kept in line by Titus now, but those little whispers of dissent? The ones who think they can lie in wait? His wife deals with them.

And even though they never actually talk about it directly between the two of them, Titus always knows.

.

.

.

.

Thank you @crazyamoeba for the brainwormssss xoxo ily

[chiapolitan]

those wips are never going to be finished because this hyperactive brain of mine just canNOT settle on one thing at a time...

i'm already imagining protective/possessive titus danforth x wife!reader. obviously she has to be a bit off-kilter as well - people don't just marry into families like these without being a liiiiittle bit fucked in the head. but even with her weird borderline sociopathic tendencies, titus would definitely still adore her - in fact he'd love her all the more for it

and while i'm an absolute sucker for the bubbly x off-putting trope, i imagine titus' wife to be one of those like, elegant morticia adams type characters, though probably not in an all-black gothic theme, if that makes sense. oh, and he's definitely the type to kiss her hand, have her hold his arm wherever they walk, lavish her with gifts, and just have an overall super healthy (questionable) and romantic (albeit pretty like, obsessive from both ends) relationship, but maybe that's just me projecting because i'm so down bad for down-bad psycho/socio-paths.

i want them to have sweet, mundane conversations about the most diabolical topics, saying shit like "hey sweetie, did you remember to dump that corpse i asked you to?" at the dinner table as if they were talking about the weather and not disposing literal bodies, i dunno man

anyways, i just want to see hatosy covered head to toe in blood man, hooooow am i supposed to last on these crumbs till april???

[luckygirlsyndrome06]

Some photos of Shawn Hatosy as Titus Danforth in 'Here I Come 2'

[toastieebread]

i havent even seen the entire movie yet, but i really like titus danforth's entire vibe... (evil rich guy??????????? i mean there's a lot of evil rich guys but 👀)

ummm and i drew him as a vampire on the left piece because i thought that photo of him with the blood on his mouth made him look like one 🤤

[shelandsorcery]

she is now in public

go get her before she escapes

[unteriors]

Bancroft Road, Danforth, Maine.