to have and to hold: chapter 29
titus danforth x reader
Overview: (this is apart of to have and to hold, it picks up right where chapter 28 stops) titus (and reader lowk) miss the wildness of their early relationship, so titus takes it upon himself to fix it. (mdni!, def an 18+ story)
A/N: back againnn (mentions of a gun/kidnapper/fear/non con-esque in this chapter)
Word Count: 2.6k
Previous Chapter
You and Titus had a long, particularly boring day of a few different galas. Being completely honest, they all started to blend after the first few you attended. It was always rich assholes in ridiculously expensive clothes pretending to listen to each other, just waiting for the chance to hear themselves talk. As the High Seat, Titus had to attend them, which meant you did too. You’d usually wander off with some of the other wives, feeling Titus’s eyes on you the entire time. They’d all bitch and whine about everything under the sun, from their husbands eyeing a servant to their latest designer purse getting a scratch. You usually just sat there, waiting for Titus to come get you. Not only were their problems stupid, but you also couldn’t even relate in the slightest about having a husband who even thought about adultery. Right when it felt like it’d never end, you’d feel his heavy hand on your shoulder and hear him clear his throat, causing the women to fall silent. You’d eagerly stand up, offer them a forced smile, and grab Titus’s hand.
Tonight was no different. You were irritated that Titus forced you to come along, knowing how much you hate them.
“Why don’t you just go by yourself?” you muttered as you slid into bed next to him.
“Don’t want to leave you home alone all day,” he said, trying to pull you in next to him, but you pushed away. It was an exceptionally long day, and you were not feeling lovey.
Rolling over with a huff, you tuck the blanket under you, putting up a little physical barrier between you two. You hear Titus’s sigh, but don’t feel his hand pulling on you as you expected.
“Come on, sweetheart, don’t be like this,” he says tiredly.
“Maybe I should get a nice, young pool boy. That’s what all the wives have, and that’s what you want me to be like, right?” you snipe.
“You know I’d torture him in front of you, but that’s probably what you want, isn’t it?” he says, trying to wedge his hand in between the blanket and your back.
“You wouldn’t even know; their husbands don’t know,” you retort, but you let his hand touch your shoulder.
“Trust me, baby, they know. They just don’t care like I do,” Titus murmurs, rubbing out the tightness in your neck now. You can’t help but feel some of the irritation drifting away. “Come here.”
In a much more teasing tone, you say, “Make me,” And Titus doesn’t wait for a second invitation. He yanks the blanket back, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into him. You yelp and let out a giggle.
“Do I get a prize now?” he says, kissing at your neck. You shake your head, wanting to get back at him for earlier in the week when he embarrassed you in front of the Council. Now he huffs.
“Don’t think you’ve earned it, sorry,” you mock, purposely rutting your ass into his crotch. He groans and holds you steady.
“Come on,” he says with a slight whine. You love getting to deny him; you just know it’ll make the next time that much better. “I’ll be soft,” he adds, thinking you just are tired.
“Nope. Remember the Council meeting?” you tsk.
“Really? That’s what this is about?” Titus asks, his voice tinged with need. “You liked that.”
“Not the point. You can’t always be in control, or you’ll start to think you’re in charge, isn’t that what you said?” you mock.
“You’re such a bitch sometimes,” he whines, grinding his crotch into your ass, hoping you’ll change your mind.
“Wow, that’s really gonna work. How many times has calling a woman a bitch made them want to fuck you? Have fun dry humping, I guess,” you smugly say. Titus knows you’re not going to let him, and he decides to respect your wishes for now. Moving his hips back a bit, he holds you tight, knowing what he has planned for you as soon as you fall asleep.
“Goodnight, princess. I’ll let you have this one,” Titus says with a kiss. You’re sort of shocked, and a little disappointed; he doesn’t push more. You did kind of want to have sex before going to sleep. You kind of always want to have sex with him, though.
Eventually you do fall asleep. Titus waits until he’s certain you’re out before slipping off the bed. He’s not 100% certain how you’ll react to his newest game, but he is fairly sure you’ll enjoy it. He knows he will. Sliding a hand under the bed, he slips on a mask and gloves he had put there earlier. Pulling on a bigger hoodie, he knows you won’t be able to recognize him like this, especially because you aren’t expecting it and will be mostly asleep. Smiling to himself as he picks up his handgun, he is so eager to see how you react.
“Get the fuck up,” he yells in a deep voice, aiming the gun at your sleeping body. Your eyes whip open, startled by the voice you don’t recognize. You feel around for Titus and instantly notice he’s gone. You immediately start to scream for him. “Shut up or I’ll make you shut up,” Titus growls as he clicks the safety of the gun off.
In your half-asleep state and due to the mostly dark room, you still don’t recognize that Titus is in front of you. Swallowing hard, you stop screaming, but you can’t stop shaking. Titus is living for the terrified look on your face; he hasn’t seen you genuinely scared in so long.
“You’re making a mistake; he’s going to kill you,” you stutter, praying Titus comes back. It’s not like him to leave you alone in the middle of the night.
He feels his cock twitch at the sound of you using him as a defense mechanism. Under the mask, he can’t help but smile with pride. “Let’s go,” Titus growls, swinging the gun at the door.
Swallowing hard, you refuse to leave, certain Titus has to be back any second. “You should leave; he’s-,” you start to say. As much as Titus would love to let you continue, he wants to keep the bit up for as long as possible. Lunging onto the bed, he pushes his body weight down on top of you, effectively pinning you. Like a reflex, you start screaming again, only to have him shove a gloved finger practically down your throat.
You choke, unable to tell if the tears are because you’re gagging or from sheer fear. Kicking as hard as you can, the masked man doesn’t seem to react at all. Instead, he paws at your boobs with his free hand, pinching and prodding at them harshly. Titus slowly removes his finger, allowing you to try to catch your breath. You snap your teeth at him, but he already anticipated that. He was waiting for the animalistic side of you to come out. With a sharp slap on your cheek, you let out a whimper before going back to thrashing around.
Suddenly, he gets off you, giving in to his predator urges to have a bit of a hunt. You, as predicted, take the chance to dart off the bed. Yelling for Titus, you rush out the door and into the hallway. With a small smirk, he sits in the bedroom, listening to your screams. If only you would’ve just slept with him when he first asked.
You’re panicking badly, still not fully connecting the dots. But the fact that there’s no staff coming out of their usual places is starting to make you realize. As the fear starts to be replaced with anger, you grit your teeth and stop running. To be fair, after the Council meeting, you did tell Titus you missed him being so rough. Specifically, you said you missed the unexpectedness and spontaneity. But the pure fear that’s still sending shivers through your body is making it hard to appreciate his current efforts. Taking a few deep breaths to help regulate your breathing, you decide to turn this around on him. Pressing up against a particularly dark part of the hallway, you wait for him to come storming out.
It doesn’t take very long until you hear him running down the hallway, still clutching the gun. You kick your heel into the wall purposely, letting him find you. He locks eyes with you, immediately barreling towards you. Rather than run, you stay still and watch him.
In a low whisper, instead of fighting back, you say, “You could take me from here.” Titus’s grip on your wrist tightens, irritated that you’d even think about saying something like that to a complete stranger. Knowing it’s getting under his skin, you practically coo, “I want you to take me from here.”
Gripping your wrist hard enough it feels like it might snap, he pushes the gun against your forehead. It’s unloaded, of course; you sort of assume that much. But it still is hard to calm your nervous system with the cool metal pressing into your temple. “What the fuck,” Titus huffs, not bothering to try to hide it's him.
With a small smirk, you respond, “You’re the one staging a kidnapping, aren’t you?”
Letting the gun fall, he loosens his grip on your wrist, realizing you were fucking with him. “You said you liked spontaneous. And I like seeing you scared. You know you weren’t taking the hunts seriously anymore,” he says defensively.
“Could’ve just given me a warning, no?”
“Not as fun; I liked the realness of it,” Titus says in a whiny voice, slightly annoyed that you messed up with his game. He has been doing better being less of a brat, but he’s been too spoiled his whole life to not react when things don’t always go his way.
“We can keep it going,” you coo, looking up at him. Forcing yourself to breathe heavier, you weakly pull at your captured wrist. “Please, I’ll do anything,” you whimper.
Titus bites his lip. Even though it’s not the real thing anymore, your willingness to play pretend is somehow making it better. He does always enjoy knowing you want what he’s giving. “Anything?” he asks, caging you against the wall with his body.
The adrenaline in your body from earlier makes it easy to feign being scared. And, truth be told, a teeny little part of you always reacts genuinely to Titus in these situations, even though you know he’d never actually harm you. You nod, trying to squeeze down and make yourself appear even smaller than you already do. Titus’s body dwarfs yours.
“Get naked,” he snarls, leveraging the gun again to point it down at you. With trembling hands, you slip off his nightshirt, leaving you in just a pair of lacey underwear. Looking up at him through your eyelashes, you catch a glimpse of the feral mess in his dark eyes. It genuinely makes the hair on your arms stand up. “Underwear too.” With a soft whimper, you slide them down, exposing just how into this you are. Titus smirks, knowing he was right to do this without telling you.
“Please,” you stutter, covering yourself with your arms as best as you can. Titus bites his lip as he roughly turns you around, forcing your face up against the wall. He takes his time manhandling you as you hear his belt clink against the floor.
“Going to fuck a baby into you,” he grunts as he drags his length along your opening. “Force you to raise my heir,” he continues as he slams into you.
You groan and use your hands to brace yourself against the wall. Although it makes complete sense, it’s always a little surprising to hear Titus talk about wanting kids. He seems just, so, childish himself. The thought vanishes from your mind as he starts harshly thrusting in and out, yanking your hair back. You whine as he sinks his teeth into your shoulder.
As he moves, he practically is balancing you on his hips, your feet barely touching the ground. And it feels so good. “Fuck, so wet for me, aren’t you?” Titus murmurs as he feels himself getting close. But he wants you to come with him, so he forces himself to slow down. Setting you back on your own wobbly feet, he kisses at your neck and reaches to rub circles over your clit. It doesn’t take long until he feels you tightening around him; his sign to get himself close. Moving his hips with intention, you grunt as you feel his release hit you. Your own pleasure overtaking you, and you clench around him. Holding you up now, he stays like that for a minute before gently sliding out and lifting you up.
Planting a soft kiss on your sweaty forehead, he says, “Love you, princess.”
With closed eyes as the waves continue to hit you, you mumble back, “I love you too.” With a soft smile, he looks down at you as he carries you back to the bedroom. Even though you’ve been together for a while now, it’s always so shocking to him that you’re actually his, and his willingly.
As he runs his hands down your back, you slowly come down from the high. “You actually want a kid?”
Without hesitating, he responds, “Of course,” and then a second later adds, “More than one, we need heirs. But you’re young, no reason to rush into it.”
“Gross. So, you’ve thought about it though?”
“Obviously, I think you’ll be sexy pregnant,” he responds genuinely. He has thought about you with bigger boobs numerous times.
“Even grosser sicko. I meant being a dad.”
“Mm, no. Never really was brought up that way,” he responds.
Of course he wasn’t, you think to yourself. “But, don’t you want to be a dad?”
He takes a minute to think about it, genuinely never once thinking about something like fatherhood. He just knows he needs to give Mr. Le Bail a viable heir to pass the Chair down to one day. He always assumed it’d be some sort of arranged marriage by his father, something done out of duty. “I never wanted to be a husband, truthfully. And I have found that to be a worthwhile investment,” he says vaguely.
You sigh, wanting a more intimate answer. However, you do recognize that he has made significant progress in becoming more humanistic. “I guess weirdo,” you respond, letting the conversation end.
Not able to hold it back, he asks, “So, did you like tonight?”
“What do you think?”
“Well, physically, obviously, you were so wet,” he says with an air of pride.
“Why are you being so gross tonight?” you ask in a fake irritated tone.
“You love it,” he responds, kissing the back of your head. “So, tonight?”
“It was good; I had fun, I suppose,” you reply, starting to feel sleepy as the previous rush of energy leaves.
With a smug smile, he pulls you in close. “I knew you’d like it.”
“Whatever freak,” you huff, letting your eyelids fall shut. The comfort of his big arms around you is so soothing, especially knowing nothing in the entire world could get to you like this. There truly is nowhere safer you could be.
Titus listens as your breathing slows, signaling you are sleeping. Slowly, he permits himself to relax, certain you actually did like the game tonight. Pleased that you’re happy, he drifts off to sleep, still clinging to you with his head nestled into your neck.
