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gallusrostromegalus · 2 months ago

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This morning I came downstairs to discover that the dogs have invented a New Crime.

My husband get up very early for his Real Adult Job, and feeds Charleston (Black-and-cream Sighthound mix, mostly leg) and Herschel (40lb cardigan welsh crime tube), then lets them out into the fenced yard before he leaves.

I get up at the same time but take longer to boot up, so the dogs frolick about and discourage the local tree rats from lingering about the property while I get dressed/brush my teeth/try to not be psychologically crushed by The Horrors (TM)

Now it's pretty normal for me to find Herschel doing a high-speed yet startlingly efficient MC Hammer Shuffle on his stubby little legs around the base of the large honey Locust tree we have in the middle of the yard so he could keep his face pointed directly up the trunk at something in the canopy, because this his how he tries to herd squirrels.

...but Charlie is usually nearby, cheerfully play-bowing and encouraging the squirrel to come down, nothing bad will happen-!

This time Charleston is nowhere in sight.

I go outside to investigate and Herschel pauses to tackle me about the kneecaps as a greeting before returning to the tree.

Charleston is not behind the garden bins, nor in the side yard.

I am growing concerned, when I hear a telltale guilty scrape of claws above me.

Charleston is on the roof.

I shuffle out to the middle of the yard, until I can make eye contact with him.

He looks down at me, cheerfully wagging his tail, clearly anticipating praise for being such a clever boy.

I at least know how he got up there.

My house has a deck built off the second floor with a set of stairs leading up to it, and a large honey locust tree grows next to it. Part of the roof is easily accessible with a small hop from the deck.

The deck has only a minimal amount of railing ad the roof has none, so I blocked off the stairs with a board that was too high for Herschel, an inveterate explorer and criminal, to jump, but not Charlie.

I didn't worry about this at the time because Charleston is, in fact, The Best Dog In The Universe, and understands that even though he *could* easily jump various barriers, it would be *impolite* of him to do so.

Charleston is Extremely Polite and thus almost never commits any crimes.

...Almost Never.

Charlie has exactly two vices, which aren't even vices because his ancestors were bred for millennia to do these two exact things.

The first is that he is HIGHLY leash aggressive when I'm present (We were both attacked by a St. Bernard the first day I had him and Charlie has decided Strange Dogs Are Not Allowed To Approach Me)

The Second is that he has the Prey Drive From Hell.

He has chased bears and bulls with full murderous intent.

He almost got me arrested because he cut his leash to chase a pronghorn antelope in front of a park ranger.

It is only for the sake of my saftey and pursuit of prey that he will break the rules.

Today, he has his nemesis cornered

Charleston isn't clever the way Herschel is. He's never really explored using his toys as tools, whereas Herschel speedran the early stages of hominid tool use as a puppy. Arwen was a logistical sort of genius who managed to terraform my parent's yard into Rabbit Thunderdome.

Charleston's genius is... psychological.

If the Squirrels see both dogs, they run for the fence, but if they only see Herschel, they run for the tree.

Charlie is much better at tracking and guessing the route his prey might go, so Charlie runs for their preferred escape route of the tree instead of chasing them.

The squirrels compensate by running for the fence, which is farther away in general, but they have a head start on the dogs.

At Some Point, charlie managed to work out that if he stays in the shadows under the deck, the squirrels won't see his mostly-black body, especially when Herschel charges into the sunlight and catches it on his white ruff.

Charleston realized, long before I did, that there is only the ONE branch that overhangs the roof, and therefore if a squirrel runs up the tree, it only has ONE way out of the yard.

The real genius was combining all of the above into the realization that he could let Herschel charge the squirrels, run through the under-deck shadows and up to the deck and roof while the squirrels are distracted, and plant himself on the roof where the squirrels HAVE to land without them seeing him until it was too late.

-And so we stand this morning.

Herschel at the foot of the tree, preventing the squirrel from running back down and heading for the fence

Charleston square in the landing zone on the roof, at the ready

The squirrel paralyzed on the branch between them

...and me, only sort of awake and realizing that I'm probably the dumbest mammal here.

I need to figure out how to disentangle these beasts without anyone getting maimed. Charleston has the blood of his ancestors baying for the flesh of his nemesis in his ears. Herschel is dangerously close to figuring out how to get on the roof himself. The squirrel is contemplating some truly dire Maneuvers, including dropping out of the tree and assaulting me to buy time.

I haven't even had my coffee yet.

"Charleston." I say with a very aggravated sigh. "That's not where dogs go."

Charleston whimpers.

He has Disappointed (TM) me.

A fate worse than death.

He starts to walk back to the deck, but as he takes a step to leave, so does the squirrel, and he is pulled back by millennia of instinct.

This will require. Delicacy.

or delicacies.

"Stay. I'll be right back." I tell the dogs.

I go back into the house, and retrieve The Best Treat.

The Cat's Wet Food.

Both dogs crave this Most Forbidden snack with an irrational passion, and it is usually both out of reach in the cat tree AND defended by Mochi, who rules the dogs with an Iron Paw.

I return to the yard, and open the can in full view of both dogs.

"Charlie?" I call. "Do you want Wet Food?"

He is halfway down the stairs before I can finish the question.

Herschel switches his orbit from the tree to my person, and I have to shuffle to avoid tripping over them as we go back inside and the squirrel flees.

None of this is the new crime.

I go out with them later to pull Yet More Thistles, and a few minutes in, I hear a little 'huff' from Charlie.

I look up, and he's standing on the stairs, paw up to indicate he's going to jump over the barrier board and go right back up there.

You know.

...Unless there is wet food to be had.

The children have figured out how to commit extortion. I text my husband.

They're so smart! Do you think we can set them on the jackasses across the street? My husband asks, ever the practical man.

I'm going back to bed.

---

I'm a disabled writier who makes my living tellng stories. if you liked this, please consider giving me a Ko-fi tip, or pre-ordering the Family Lore book of stories on my Patreon. Thank you!

#Family Lore #Charleston Chew #Herschel the Hanukka Goblin #dogs

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jeonginsleftcheek · 7 months ago

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Nothing I wouldn't do

pairing: handyman!chan x waitress!reader

genre: hurt/comfort, suggestive

synopsis: you and chan have been together for 3 years. he has never done anything to make you doubt his love for you, but recently you noticed him sneaking out at night...

wc: 2.4k

warnings: mentions of blood/injuries, brief descriptions of lovemaking, crying

a/n: i'm tired and preparing a really long fic so i needed a little break, hope you enjoy🫶🏻

~masterlist

Another long shift finally finished, a dull ache appeared in your feet, coursing through your legs and climbing up to your lower back.

There was a headache behind your eyelids, a constant slow pounding that almost made your vision blurry.

You felt overwhelmed, discouraged and hungry.

Today was a particularly difficult day at the restaurant you work at, exhausting you to your limits and pushing you further.

Another reason your anxiety spiked up was because you got yelled at by your manager for something that wasn't entirely your fault and you had to bite your tongue and swallow your tears like you always do.

As you stepped out into the street, the dark night enveloping you, your tired legs started taking you on the familiar path to your home.

You were barely awake as you walked, the people passing you by looked blurry and unrecognizable, you couldn't even make out their faces.

You closed your eyes for a second, but that was one second too long as you tripped on the cracked sidewalk and fell down, scraping your hands and knees in the process.

"Miss, are you alright?" someone crouched down to help you.

"Yes, yes I'm fine." you said to the stranger, your tears blurring your vision of their face.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, thank you." you tried to be polite, hoping they would back off because now you wanted to get home even faster.

You continued walking, now in more pain as the wind picked up, grazing your bleeding skin.

Tears streamed down your cheeks quietly as the sky became darker.

You picked up your pace, realizing it will soon start raining.

Arriving to your building just in time, you ran inside and up the stairs to the 6th and last floor where you and your boyfriend lived.

He was working even later than you today, so he couldn't pick you up as his work lead him across town for the time being.

Rain started pouring outside just as you managed to close the door to your apartment, smacking it into place multiple times until it finally clicked.

You quickly ran to grab some buckets as the roof was flimsy, whenever it rained, your apartment would be drenched in water too unless you strategically placed the buckets so they could collect the raindrops.

After doing that, you finally caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and cringed.

You were still in your waitress unifrom, your hair now a mess, mascara streaks on your cheeks from crying, your hands and legs covered in bloody scratches.

You decided to quickly clean up so you can make dinner for Chan and yourself, preferably before he arrives home.

Swallowing more tears that threatened to come out, you made your way to the bathroom to clean up.

Luckily, you had hot water finally, the last three months you had to somehow survive without it once your water heater broke.

Sometimes you took double shifts at the restaurant, or just begged your boss to let you work without a day off.

Chan hated when you did that, hated seeing you so tired that you barely stood on your feet, your eyes sad and distant when you'd come home.

He begged you not to do it, promising he'd find a way to make more money, promising that he'll take care of you, telling you how you deserve better which you'd quickly shut down, not wanting him to feel guilty because it wasn't his fault.

It wasn't yours either, that's just how the cards were dealt and the two of you were trying your best to make something out of nothing.

Chan arrived just in time as you were finishing up with dinner, a smile gracing his tired face as soon as he saw you standing before the stove, dressed in his shirt.

You looked at him over your shoulder and though he could see the tiredness on your features, to him you looked more and more beautiful every single day.

"Hey, baby." you greeted him just as he wrapped his arms around you, your tired muscles instantly melting into his warmth and comfort.

You could fall asleep standing if you weren't so hungry.

"Love." he hummed against you, leaning over your shoulder to kiss the corner of your lips. "Smells nice." Chan nuzzled into your hair, taking a whiff of your shampoo.

"What, the food or me?" you chuckled, teasing him.

"Both." he giggled, gently moving you left and right as he tightened his hold on you.

"Go wash up then, it's almost done." you said, his hands coming up to touch yours.

That's when he noticed the scratches, panic overtaking him instantly as he gently grabbed your wrists.

"What happened?" he asked, a shaky breath escaping his lips.

"I fell. It's nothing." you quickly shook your head but he spun you around before you could even protest.

"Babe, your legs." Chan gasped.

"It's fine, really. It doesn't hurt too much." you averted your eyes.

His fingers came up to touch your chin as he made you look at him.

"I'll pick you up next time, I promise. Even if I have to speed across the city."

"Don't even think about that." you shivered, negative thoughts appearing in your mind instantly.

If you lost him, you wouldn't have anything.

"Okay, okay, I'll go wash up." he kissed you gently before skipping to the bathroom.

You served dinner on the small table, your plates clinking together as you tried to make it look somewhat presentable.

These little things always made a difference.

The fresh flowers on your windowsill, the pretty tablecloth you managed to find for a cheap price, a warm home cooked meal, your lover sitting across from you with a smile on his face.

The space was so cramped that your knees were pressed up together but in the case of the two of you, close could never be close enough.

You know Chan would gladly crawl right into your heart if you could keep him there, safe and sound.

He helped you wash the dishes, both of you talking about your day like you always do.

"That place is a shithole, y/n. You deserve so much better. Your manager is a fucking knucklehead. Do you want me to rough him up a little?" Chan asked, setting the clean plate aside.

You chuckled, smacking his bicep playfully as you peered up at him.

"Yes, get me fired. Save me from that hellhole." you joked with a dramatic hand to your forehead.

"You know you could always look at other places."

"Isn't it just the same thing? I don't have many qualifications anyways."

"I know but maybe a different restaurant has a better manager if nothing else." Chan offers, as you lean on the sink, wiping your hands.

"Or they could be even worse." you said as he stood before you, his arms landing on your waist.

Chan leaned in to kiss you, slowly and lovingly, your stomach doing all sorts of flips like you haven't been together for years, like you haven't done this before.

"How about we stop talking about work and start talking about more fun topics?" you wiggled your eyebrows at him as your arms wrapped around his shoulders, fingers grazing his muscles, on display for you as he wore his tanktop.

"You're not in pain?" he motioned to your thighs and arms, still stinging albeit dulled now.

"I trust you to be gentle." you stood on your tippy toes to kiss him again, your hands holding his cheeks.

The two of you fell into a lovers embrace, tongues entwined, fingertips gently exploring, your cores connected in a heated movement that ended in pure bliss.

"I love you." you whispered as Chan scooped you up in his protective arms.

"I love you, darling." he kissed your temple as you drifted off to sleep.

You noticed it for the first time that same night.

You were so exhausted, jolted out of your deep sleep that you thought you were hallucinating when you saw Chan's figure walking towards the door and disappearing.

Your eyes fell to the clock next to your bed, reading 2am.

You wanted to wake up, ask him where he's going but you couldn't fight the sleep that was overtaking you.

The next morning, you forgot about it as you saw Chan making breakfast for the two of you, the day starting as normal as ever, a familiar routine taking place.

Your knees pressed together as you ate, the smell of freshly brewed coffee filling up the space, the birds singing in front of the window as you chatted.

The next twenty minutes consisted of the two of you knocking against each other and the furniture as you tried to get ready for work.

The smiles on your faces never faltered as every second spent together was precious, even the mundane things like brushing your teeth together became romantic in your eyes.

Chan refused to stop kissing you in front of the door until you smacked his chest enough times to make him realize that you'll be late for work if he doesn't drive you right now.

It was a nice and fresh day outside and briefly you remembered the vision you had last night of Chan leaving but you chalked it up to a dream.

The dream however, kept repeating sporadically throughout the week.

You'd be half awake, watching your boyfriend's back as he'd gather his jacket and toolbox, only to leave quietly into the night.

Doubts started to fill your mind.

You knew you could just ask him where he was going, but the fact that he didn't share it beforehand, when the two of you usually shared your deepest and darkest secrets, created a painful feeling in your gut and chest.

It was more than suspicious, him sneaking out at night and the fear of losing him clouded your mind.

So one night as he left, waking you up accidentally in the process, you couldn't fall back asleep.

Tears filled up your eyes as you clutched onto his pillow that smelled just like him, comforting and yours.

What was he doing? You didn't want your mind to go to horrible places, like Chan meeting up with someone else because if that turned out to be true, your heart would shatter into pieces.

Pieces you'd never be able to pick up, never be able to love again.

So, you waited for him to come back home, making yourself some coffee so you don't fall asleep.

Chan came back home around 6am, just 30 minutes before you usually wake up.

"Oh, y/n. You're awake." he swallowed, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

"Yes, I've been awake for hours." you looked at him as he stood still by the door, nervously looking left and right.

"I- I just..."

"Where were you? Or better yet, where do you sneak off to every other night?" you tapped your fingers against the cup, your heart beating fast as you tried to sound and look calm, but your eyes were already filling up with tears.

"Y-you know?" Chan gulped, standing like a statue.

You scoffed, a tear sliding down your cheek.

You wiped it away angrily as you stood up and his eyes widened.

"I thought we didn't have any secrets between us. But you're obviously going behind my back. Just please, explain."

"Please don't be mad at me!" Chan quickly made his way to you but you took a step back from him, your backside colliding into the sink.

Hurt flashed across his eyes before realization hit him.

How this must look to you.

"Oh, you think..." he shook his head. "It's nothing like that. Actually, you weren't supposed to find out like this. I just wanted to make some extra money so I started repairing stuff as a 24/7 service. You know, for stores that work around the clock, anything that is opened during the night shift like casinos and clubs. If something happens in people's houses during the night. I figured since I have trouble sleeping, I'd do something productive."

You stared at him for a moment before letting out a laugh of disbelief, tears still staining your cheeks.

"You bastard!" you smacked his chest, but there was a smile on your face which let Chan know you weren't that mad at him.

"Why didn't you just tell me that? Do you know how much you scared me?" you smacked his chest once again for good measure before he grabbed your hands gently, bringing them up to your lips and kissing your knuckles.

"I'm sorry, I will never keep something from you again. It's just that it was supposed to be a surprise."

"What surprise?" your brows furrowed as Chan sighed, turning around to rummage through his jacket that he'd left on the chair immediately.

You peered at his hands, your eyes widening and a gasp escaping your lips as he produced a little velvet box out of his pocket.

"Is that-" you stuttered, fresh tears pricking your eyes.

"Mhm." he nodded. "But I wanted us to have this romantic dinner and-"

"This is romantic enough." you stopped him, your voice eager.

Chan chuckled and then smirked.

"Are you sure you want me to propose all greasy in the middle of the kitchen at 6am?"

"I'm sure." you giggled, your body heating up with excitement.

"I was gonna prepare a speech." he muttered before getting down on one knee.

"Y/n, even though I don't have much, what I do have I want to share with you. And that is all my love and my complete and utter devotion that I want to share with you for the rest of my life. So will you marry me?" Chan looked up at you hopefully as he opened up the little box, revealing a beautiful ring inside it.

"Yes!" you cried, quickly wrapping your arms around him as you stumbled forwards into his embrace, making him giggle happily.

You held each other tightly for some time, just reveling in the moment of your hearts beating against one another in unison.

As you pulled away, Chan slid the ring on your finger as your heart skipped a beat.

"Never scare me like that again." you said, looking up at him.

"I'm sorry, my love. I promise I won't."

Your lips crashed together in a sweet and passionate kiss, your whole body tingling with so many feelings and one thought in your head.

Whatever life throws at you, as long as you come home to each other at the end of the day, everything will be just fine.

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toxicmalysh · 7 months ago

Text

Aphrodisiac

Word count: 2k

Summary: Wanda slips you a labido enhancer sorry it's late guys rough day at work

Warnings: aphrodisiacs (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), cunnilingus (r receiving), mentions of breeding kink, strap on (r recieving)

Any scene involving aphrodisiacs, drugs, or alcohol should be discussed with your partner/s, boundaries and safe words must be discussed before hand. consent is important people!!

✧⋆✦⋆✧

You walked through the heavy door to your home, dropping your bag to the floor lazily. You were tired and honestly couldn't wait to throw yourself into the shower and bed.

“Malysh?”

Your head snapped up towards the open kitchen, the sweet sound of your girlfriend's voice helping you to relax instantly.

“Yeah Wands?”

You called back, your voice filled with exhaustion.

You watched as Wanda peeked her head around the corner of the kitchen, finding you at the door taking your shoes off.

She could see the long day on your face, and immediately walked over with open arms.

“Oh dorogaya, bad day at work?”

You softened in Wanda's embrace, smiling to yourself before answering.

“It could have been worse, but I'm happy to be home, and with you.”

Wanda smiled into your neck, before turning away from you slightly.

“Well lucky you because I'm cooking your favourite for dinner, it'll be ready in about twenty minutes if you want to shower and come down later?”

You nodded strongly before placing your shoes away and making your way upstairs.

✧⋆✦⋆✧

You were ranting about your day, trying to get out the stress that it had put on you. Wanda however seemed distracted, fidgeting in her chair, almost watching you expectantly. The food was amazing, and she had poured you a small glass of your favourite alcohol to take the edge off. You were surprised as Wanda usually discourages drinking for stress related reasons, but today was very willing.

“And I told them if they were going to transfer stocks into the warehouse, they would have to print out multiple copies of the paperwork, did they listen.. no?”

“Thank you Wands, this is delicious.”

She nodded, her smile widening as she picked up another mouthful of her meal.

“How was your day?”

You exchanged pleasantries as you continued eating, and when you were both done, you decided to help Wanda clear up.

“Did you want to watch a movie tonight?”

Wanda spoke softly. For some reason you felt, not dizzy, but fuzzy? A hot feeling running through you, and a consistent throb was loud between your legs.

“Darling?”

Your head snapped up.

“Yeah, sorry, that sounds good.”

You went back to wiping down the kitchen island. You'd dreamt of Wanda bending you over this counter, pounding you senseless with her strap, making you beg for-

Why were you thinking like this?

Your thighs brushed together as you stood back up and you nearly whimpered from the sudden friction.

Your shirt felt too tight all of a sudden, and your skin was on fire. You sat down on the chair of the island as you scraped off the last stubborn marks. The way your arm moved made your body shake, your hips grinding softly into the chair, and you let out a whine. Your eyes flicked up to Wanda hoping she hadn't heard the pathetic noise, to your surprise she was still cleaning the counter opposite you. You admired the way Wanda was leant over the marble surface, her left hand gripping the side whilst her right arm was reaching across to the wall.

What you'd do to have her behind you like that gripping you ha-

“Y/n?”

You looked up to Wanda, her looking at you in confusion. You cleared your throat, pressing your thighs together.

“Sorry what.”

Your voice was breathless, and you felt your nipples straining against your shirt, if you weren't so lost in this headspace you would have noticed Wanda watching you with a shit eating smirk.

“I said what movie did you want to watch… are you okay?”

You rubbed your forehead for a moment, watching as Wanda leaned back against the counter, her arms coming up to her chest, pushing her breasts up nearly spilling out of her top.

You got up from your chair, walking around the counter quickly. You moved face to face with Wanda, only taking her eyes in for a split second before reaching for your shirt.

Wanda's eyes widened watching your boldness in surprise.

“Please. Just touch me.”

Wanda's eyes fell to your bare breasts, seeing how hard your nipples were, and the whininess of your voice, was enough to make her break.

Her lips immediately came up to yours as her hand cupped your breast. It was so sensitive and the feeling of your nipple rolling between your fingers was sending an immense amount of stimulation to your core.

Wanda wasted no time in pressing you against the kitchen island, her mouth finding your nipple again.

God did it feel good, you felt like your whole body was throbbing, begging for touch. And this stimulation from Wanda felt much more pleasurable than usual. What was going on with you.

“Wanda something's…”

She didn't listen, her lips simply going to your other nipple, biting softly.

You moaned feverishly, your clit aching, your pussy dripping already.

Wanda's free hand came up to your free nipple pinching and pulling at it. You felt your stomach tighten, were you seriously about to cum from Wanda touching nothing but your breasts?

Your hand reached the back of Wanda's head, forcing her head to move back and forth on your nipple. Your head filled with thoughts, if Wanda bred you, gave you her babies, the way your breasts would swell and you could let her taste you.

No, no, something was seriously wrong…

“Wanda this feels w-”

Her words cut you off as she groped at your skin,

“Cum.. malysh I know you want to.”

Her mouth wrapped back around the other nipple switching her movements, and just like that your legs shook, the hotness falling over your body as you felt your pussy spasm around nothing. The coil snapped for a moment, before tightening up further than before, you needed more, you needed much more.

Wanda's fingers hooked your joggers and thong, pulling them down, and she wasn't disappointed by the sight, your cunt was dripping, wetness spread against your thighs. She brought her nose up to your clit, inhaling deeply letting out a low moan.

Your hand gripped her hair again, practically shoving her against you.

She let out a grunt in surprise, usually she'd punish you for being so rude but right now she was intoxicated by the state of you.

Her tongue lapped desperately at your clit, her fingers trailing up your thigh as your hips ground against her face.

Wanda wouldn't admit it, but something about you taking what you wanted from her, not even asking if she was okay, as if she was merely a toy for you to get off with, well she was dripping for you.

You pulled her head back and forth as she wrapped her lips around your clit.

Fuck what if you had the strap and she was this pathetic on her knees for you.

Okay no seriously what is wrong with you.

You tried to think, your brain foggy as Wanda's mouth worked on your sensitive clit, you tried your hardest to work out what might've had you feeling like this but as Wanda pressed into your gummy walls with two fingers, your brain switched off.

After only a few thrusts you felt your tummy coil again, this was ridiculous but you didn't want to stop. Your hips rutted against Wanda's mouth as you whined out.

“Oh my god oh my god.. I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna-”

Your words were cut off by a low growl, your hips now stuttering as that familiar white pleasure filled you.

You stood for a moment catching your breath, looking down at Wanda and her eyes met your. She was licking your arousal off her lips and that sight alone was enough for your clit to start aching again. You watched Wanda's face curl into a tight smirk.

She stood up and you pressed your lips hard against yours, the taste of yourself making you breathe heavily.

Wanda's hands wrapped around to the back of your thighs, lifting you up onto the island.

Your legs spread immediately and Wanda didn't waste time in slipping two fingers back into your sloppy heat.

“Look at you..”

Wanda was breathless, and beyond aroused by your sudden desperation.

“So needy… what a pretty slut you are.”

She punctuated her sentence by thrusting particularly hard into you.

“Such a good whore… I know it aches, turn that little brain off for me, I'll take care of you.”

You felt your pride slipping from you, a red fog clouding your thoughts, all you could focus on was the pleasure Wanda was providing.

Not even thinking your hands came up to squeeze your breasts as if it was a reflex to feel as much stimulation as you could.

“So greedy malysh.”

You let out a throaty moan grinding your hips into Wanda's hand.

“Shut up and fuck me.”

Once again, usually Wanda would spank you for the use of language, but right now Wanda felt nothing but heat rush through her, moving her hand firmer into you.

Your pussy was impossibly tight, sucking in Wanda's fingers and the feeling of you throbbing was making Wanda's mindset fuzzy.

“Fuck I'm..”

“Do it.”

Wanda stood up straight still thrusting as she took your lips against hers, your lips hot and swollen as they matched Wanda's peace.

The pleasure between your legs was overwhelming, you were almost scared for that coil to snap, but then your thighs tense, your nails digging into Wanda's shoulders, and that feeling of relief washed over you.

Your moan was loud and gritty, and Wanda muffled it by kissing you again.

Wanda pulled back from you,

“More..”

You whimpered, the throbbing and sensitivity coursing through you was still so strong and you wanted it gone.

Wanda flicked her wrist slightly, her strap appearing on her hips.

You didn't give her a second before gripping the toy and lining it up with your cunt. Wanda let out a long moan at the feeling of your hand around her.

“God I love when you're like this.” She laughed slightly as she pushed the head against you, before ramming the toy fully into you.

Your body was exhausted, and you let yourself fall back against the counter.

Wanda gripped tightly onto your hips, thrusting fast and hard into your throbbing heat.

“Harder.”

Wanda raised her eyebrows in surprise, she was already thrusting painfully hard, but she obliged, almost tearing through your cervix.

Your walls were hot and sticky and Wanda couldn't get enough of how you felt around her. She was already so close to the edge having watched you fall apart the way you had been.

You moved your fingers, massaging rapidly over your swollen clit. You were surprised at the rock solid bundle of nerves beneath your fingertips but carried on moving as it felt, so damn good.

You were so close, this time feeling a heavy pressure in your core.

“Wands..”

“Me too baby.. fuck.. me too.”

Without hesitation your legs spasmed, your core throbbing widely as your pussy clamped hard, bringing Wanda over the edge, white hot cum filling you.

You both moaned in unison, Wanda's a low grunt whilst you practically whined.

Your body fizzled, and relief filled you as the consistent heat left your body.

You smiled up at Wanda, feeling slightly embarrassed by your behaviour. She nodded firmly, standing up straight as she slowly pulled the strap from you. You lulled your head back catching your breath slowly.

“I'm definitely slipping you another pill soon.”

Your eyes snapped up to hers as everything clicked, your tone a half laugh.

“I knew it!”

#wanda smut #smut #smut writing #w/w nsft #mommy wanda #wanda maximoff #wanda #wanda nsft #wanda x reader #wanda x you #intox kink #aphrodisiac

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leyavo · 2 months ago

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Dad!141 x Dyslexic!kid

Summary: tf141 x their kids struggling with dyslexia at school. Requested by anon [Masterlist]

John’s pissed when he finds out your teachers been making you stand against the wall each time you’ve failed your weekly spelling test. It’s always when they add a new word that you struggle to remember it, mixing the order of letters. You’d just transferred to a new school due his work and being closer to the military base. The last one had more funding, better understanding of your dyslexia. Whereas this one looked like it was stuck in the eighties and didn’t have enough teachers to watch the kids.

“What do you mean they make you stand against the wall?” He asks, fork clanging to his plate at dinner one night.

“They make me stand in front of the wall and read the words so I don’t forget.” You say it like it’s the most logical thing, but John’s chest aches. He’s tried telling you that your brains wired different, that you’re not slow or dumb. Just learn different than others.

He loves the way your mind works. How you pick up on things he’s never thought of or how you’re good with fixing things. Reminds himself that your short term memory isn’t the best, so he’s patient with you and explains again no matter how many times he has before.

“I’ll talk to ya’ teacher,” he grumbles, ruffling your hair. “Eat that broccoli.” He points to your plate, trying to contain the boiling rage burning the back of his throat.

John schedules a meeting with the headmaster, all the little things you told him about the teacher, noted down the day it happened. How many times it happened. Ended up getting you moved to a different class and he was able to talk to your new teacher and make them aware of your dyslexia etc. Checked in a couple weeks later with new teacher and you to see you were okay.

Simon stares at your school report and glances to you. On paper you’re a completely different kid, described as too quiet, need to participate more in the classroom and work on your reading, you’re behind for your age. Given an extra five minutes now for your tests. The teacher had mentioned that your recent dyslexic diagnosis had discouraged to do work and engage with others.

The comic books in your room are the only ones you like to read, complain every time you look at a bigger body of text. You’d been spending most of your time in the library instead of the playground, organising the books on the shelves.

At home Simon can’t get you to shut up, there’s always something coming out of your mouth that he regularly tells you take a breath. So he sits you down before bed and asks you what’s going on.

“Everything’s harder now,” you say, picking at the broken nail in your lap. “I notice it more and it’s so annoying. Why can’t I just be like you.”

Simon drapes his arm over your shoulders and tucks you into his side. “You’re just like me,” he says, squeezing you in his hold.

“I am?” You pull away staring up at him in awe.

“Yeah, you’re bloody stubborn…don’t give up most times. Keep at this and ask for help if you need it kid.”

And it’s like he’s lit something, fuelled something inside of you to combat anything in your way. There’s some frustrated tears and shouted tantrums, but he always reminds you to ask for help when you feel like that.

Kyle’s more upset than angry as he sits in the car on the driveway. He’s just picked you up from school for fighting, you haven’t said a word nor have you explained why you punched a kid bigger than you. No your face scrunched up, knuckles scraped and resting in your lap. The teachers didn’t see what happened on the playground, so it’s a case of he said, she said. You won’t talk though, which makes you the bad kid.

“Come on, poppet. Can’t stick up for you if you don’t tell me what happened. I’m on your side.” He says, shifting in the front seat and leaning into the back towards you. “They push you?”

You were a little smaller than some of them, an easy target if they didn’t know who your dad was.

“They called me dumb, said I was slow.” A little pout on your lips and brows furrowed.

And Kyle listens to you as you tell him about how the teacher made you read in front of the whole class - something that had been agreed they wouldn’t force you to do. How you stumbled over the words, the kids muffling their sniggers and making fun of you in the playground. How you warned the one kid to shut up.

“And I hit him, then asked him did I stutter?”

Kyle’s proud of you for sticking up for yourself, you’d warned them and they still stepped over your boundaries so he’s not going to punish you for it. Just going to remind you that violence isn’t always the solution as now you’re the one suspended from school. He’ll talk to your teachers and get it sorted out.

Johnny can’t understand why he’s being called into the headmasters office again for the second time this week. He walks into the reception area and you’re sitting in one of those awkward plastic chairs with your head hung low.

Something about disrupting the class, refusing to read aloud and not handing in your homework. It’s been a rough couple months since your dyslexia diagnosis and you’re too clever using it as an excuse to neglect your school work. The youngest of four it’s easy for you to go under radar, but now Johnny is on your case and checking anything school related.

The headmaster drones on about your three older siblings and how they were a great addition to the school. Eldest even setting a new school record for test results. Johnny can see the sag of your shoulders as it’s said, he knows you’ve got big shoes to fill and knows you’re different, all his kids are.

Johnny drives the long way home, glancing at you in the rearview mirror in the back. “I don’ expect ya’ to be like them,” he says, trying to catch your gaze in the reflection.

“Not smart enough anyways,” you mumbled, arms crossed tightly over your chest and head turned to the trees flitting past the window.

“Eh! Look at me,” Johnny snaps and you do. “You’re smart in other ways, just want you to try. Alright?” And it’s true you’re a whizz at connecting wires with Johnny whenever he’s trying to fix something, you even remember the name of every tool in the garage and its use. There’s just other things you have to work harder at.

“Yeah, Da’. I’ll try.”

🤌 there might be mistakes/errors due to dyslexia lol - Leya

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leighsartworks216 · 21 days ago

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Omg your Sylus Dragon drabbles made me all excited, just loved the way you described him with his mate.

Could you please make one on how Sylus would be around other males, how protective he would be with his mate.

It's ok if you don't want to answer, thankssss

Oh my god he is SO protective. I'm gonna separate these between humans and other dragons, bc I feel like it would be a little different between them

With humans, he's all glares and body language. He's standing between you and them, standing stock straight and all puffed up. He trusts you - he doesn't trust them

Thinking about a scenario where you go to the market. He goes with you, of course, prepared to give up treasure from his hoard to pay for you and to carry all your spoils. You stop at a booth and start browsing. His head is on a swivel to look out for danger, but he snaps to attention the second he hears a man's voice answering your questions

He stands right behind you, towering over you, glaring down at the vendor. That meme where the sunshine character is flanked by a shadow of a person with only the threatening shine of their eyes? Yeah, that's him

Also uses his wings to make himself even bigger, and he will show his teeth if the man doesn't back down

I also imagine him like nuzzling and biting your neck while you talk to a man. Like, very blatantly staking his claim on you while glaring daggers, leaving marks on your skin where everyone can see

With dragons, I imagine it being more outright "they're mine" type shit. He sees another dragon and his wings are out, teeth bared, ready to attack. If the other dragon doesn't back down, a fight will break out. I imagine that dragons mate for life but they will also fight for a mate, even if that mate belongs to another dragon already, like, to the death. So he's genuinely protecting you from becoming another dragon's mate

I imagine the Defending dragon (Sylus in this case) doesn't kill dragons that try to do this, just beating them down enough for them to concede defeat and run away. But these fights get messy as hell. If the Attacking dragon doesn't back down after the initial display of wings and teeth, it's a full on fight of claws and teeth and brute strength

Omg imagine watching Sylus take on another dragon in one of these fights. You're not worried that he'll lose - he's strong as hell and you know he can handle it. But seeing all the blood that stains the dirt, seeing him get even temporarily pinned down before he gets the upper hand again - your dragon is getting hurt, and that hurts your soul

He wins the fight and stays vigilant until the other dragon is out of sight before he comes back to you. He's got scratches all over. Deep bites too close to his neck. Scrapes and incoming bruises. He's smirking all roguishly, seeking your approval for winning; he doesn't expect you to run over and fawn over his injuries

Imagine dragging him back home and tending to his wounds, dabbing away the blood with a wet cloth and putting bandages on the deepest of the bites and cuts. Once he's patched up, you feel like you can finally relax again. Can finally appreciate the things he does to protect you. Pressing a delicate kiss over a cut on his cheek, and he absolutely melts when you whisper a thank you against his skin. Tilts his head up to catch your lips in a kiss, slow and sweet and adoring

If you're also into girls, I think he'd be a little protective of you there, too, but far less than men. If a woman comes onto you, he's still gonna glare and position himself close to you to show that you're together. Female dragons don't fight for their mates, though, so any interest there is discouraged with a growl and warning flick of his tail

#I LOVE DRAGON SYLUS #I LOVE BEING ABLE TO SHARE MY THOUGHTS ON HIM AHH #tysm for sending in these questions and prompts guys i love them sm #sylus #dragon sylus #love and deepspace

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hyuuukais · 1 year ago

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Hiii!! I saw ur requests were open but if this makes u uncomfy for any reason no worries. I was skating home from work today and kinda got scraped up pretty bad so I was wondering if you'd write a Skz reaction to reader getting hurt by skating(I was skateboarding but if you want separate scenarios you can use roller skates or ice skates too I think that would be cool) and maybe nursing reader back to health idk just something fluffy? I was kinda discouraged from skating after I got all scraped up today :/

Ps. I love ur blog and I hope you have a great day/night 🩷

-🔮(if u have emoji anons I'd like to be this one)

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ SKZ SCENARIOS ⋆｡˚✴︎⋆

pairing : ot8 x reader

notes : hi !! i didn't know if you wanted texts or written, so i did a mix, i hope that's alright with you! and i actually don't have any emoji anons rn, you'd be my first, which is so exciting!! and i love love love the one you chose. i took your advice and did a variety of different types of skates :) oh! and this doesn't make me uncomfortable, little injuries/sick fics like this is okay :33

warnings : injuries (scraped knees/hands/face/arms, sprained wrist/ankle/concussion), blood mention, nausea, mentions of passing out/blacking out, reader called pet names (baby, honey, love), food mention

CHAN (wc: 561)

There's a knock on your door exactly eleven minutes later, and you trudge across your living room to open it. Chans face is etched with concern, his eyebrows furrowing deeper as he takes in the light bruising starting to appear on your cheekbone, a few red scratches from the tough asphalt accentuating the purple.

Without a word, he enters your living space and sets a small bag down on the coffee table. Chan takes some things out, then gestures you to move down the hallway to your bathroom. Suppressing a groan, you do as he says, trying not to wince every time you step. Another, much worse scrape paints your knee, stinging with every movement. By the time you're sitting on the edge of the tub, your eyes have watered in pain.

Chan kneels in front of you, looking up to into your watery eyes, but you avoid his gaze. With a soft sigh, he takes the bottle of peroxide and dampens a cloth, gently pressing it down on your bloody knee. You hiss at the contact, squeezing your eyes shut hard as he continues to pat the wound and surrounding flesh. It hurts so bad, and you swear you can feel your knee throbbing. What feels like hours is mere minutes, Chan taking the cloth away from your skin to reach for a nearby bandage. He takes care in wrapping the wound, placing a small kiss on the top of your knee once he's done.

"Now, let me see that pretty face of yours." Chan joins you on the edge of the rub, bringing a hand up to gently turn your face to his. "Doesn't look as bad as I thought, but it still needs to be cleaned... you're doing so good for me, baby."

He smiles at you, wiping a stray tear that's managed to escape from the corner of your eye. Your jaw clenches as he brings the cloth, freshly dampened in peroxide, to your skin again, patting in the same motion he did your knee. The sting isn't as bad, the cuts smaller and quicker to clean. As soon as Chan is done placing the smaller bandage on your cheekbone, he places a kiss over it. His palm comes to rest on your lower cheek and jaw, resting your foreheads together. Naturally, your eyes flutter shut as you relax under his touch, the pain and embarrassment forgotten almost completely in his presence.

"I love you," You whisper, sighing contently.

"I love you too," Chan smiles, backing his face away from yours. "How about you change into some comfy clothes and we put on that show you've been on about? Sound good?"

A smile breaks out on your face at the mention of the show, nodding excitedly at his suggestion. "We'll have to start at the beginning! I've been dying to show it to you."

He laughs, his eyes almost shutting from how wide his smile has gotten watching you grab his hand and lead him out of the bathroom. You're still talking as you change, but Chan just leans back on the bed listening, not daring to interrupt. He loves it when you're like this, gushing about your interests to your hearts content. It seems like a flip has switched from your dim mood, and Chan is glad he could do something to make you feel better.

MINHO (wc: 526)

And he does, he marches right to you despite the protests of the coaches spread on the chilled ground, one of which is making their way toward you. Slipping and sliding all the way to you, Minho makes it to your side first and tries to assess the situation.

"What happened?" Minho demands, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You've managed to sit up on your butt, feeling the cold ground seeping through your bottoms as you curl into yourself. Keeping your wrist close to your chest, you take deep breaths, in through the nose, out through the mouth. Staying calm is the only way you'll get through the throbbing pain in your wrist.

The coach stops just short of you, kneeling on the opposite side of Minho. "Y/n! Are you alright? That was a really bad fall."

All you can do is shake your head, eyes unmoving from the spot between your knees. With the nausea you're feeling, the only thing keeping you from jumping to the conclusion you've broken a bone is the fact you never heard a crack.

One minute, you were gliding on the ice, acing your practice jumps and having fun. The lessons you're doing have been going on for a few months now, and you've been getting better with each one. Knowing you've always wanted to try learning to skate, Minho had paid for a full year of lessons for your birthday, and you'd almost cried when he told you.

Yet, here you are, once again close to tears for a completely different reason. You knew not to put your arms out the way you did, landing on your wrist at an odd angle. Next thing you knew, you could barely move as pain seized you and threatened to have you black out.

"Honey," Minhos voice is next to your ear, one of his hands rubbing your back soothingly. "Let me help you up, we need to go."

Hours later, you've traveled to the hospital, been seen by a doctor, and sent home with a sprained wrist. The whole way home, there's been a pout on your face, and all you want to do now is lay down in bed and cry.

Minho can tell, he always can, so when you get home he leads you in the direction of the living room. At first, you're confused, but then he kisses your forehead and brings you the first furball he can find. Soonie gets comfortable in your lap as Minho leaves the room, coming back a few minutes later with the comforter from your bed.

"I know you want to change and go to bed," He says softly into your ear, placing another kiss on your lobe with a playful nibble that makes you giggle. "I know you're embarrassed. De-stress a bit first, calm down, then I'll run you a hot bath and we can settle in for the night."

"I guess I can do that," You mumble, leaning your head on his shoulder.

"Uh-uh, you will do that." Minho pats your head, and you can practically hear the smirk in his voice. "I'm not leaving you with a choice."

CHANGBIN (wc:541)

It's not even ten minutes later that you spot him jogging down the street to meet you. You've scooted back into the grass to stay out of the way of other pedestrians, using your cold water bottle to soothe the scrapes on the palms of your hands. As soon as Changbin sees you, he's by your side and taking away the bottle, replacing it with his loving touch. He places a kiss on each palm, taking care to brush away the tiny pieces of ground off your skin.

Maybe it's how soft he's holding you, or just him being so quick to be with you when you're hurt, but you can feel tears well up in your eyes. The sound of your sniffles catches Changbin's attention immediately, and one of his hands is already on your face to thumb the tears away before they've even had the chance to fall.

"Bunny," Changbin coos, a pout on his face. "It's okay, you're okay. Let's get you cleaned up, how's that sound?"

You nod, letting him undo the laces of the roller skates, sliding them off your feet carefully. Thankfully, you didn't twist an ankle or anything, and you're honestly a bit surprised you didn't with the way you fell. Changbin ties the laces together, swinging them over his shoulder. Next, he helps you to your feet.

"You couldn't have brought me proper shoes to walk back in?" You joke, trying to find some humour in the situation.

"Why would I when I can do this-?" Hands hook under your legs and behind your back as he swings you into his arms bridal-style. You can't help but giggle at his antics, covering your face in embarrassment as a passer-by gives you two a look. Changbin lifts your torso close to him, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

Changbin carries you like this the whole fifteen minutes back home, keeping his head up high, proud of somewhat showing you off as you go, even if that wasn't the intent of holding you like this. Even when you do arrive home, he still refuses to let you go until you're safely in your bedroom, placing you down on the plush mattress. When you go to sit up, he pushes you back down gently, shaking his head.

"Stay put, let me do this!" Changbin almost whines, and you supress another fit of giggles at his reactions. "I want to treat you."

"It's just some scraped palms-"

"Yah!" He scolds, lifting up a hand. "You're still hurt. I'm not letting you do a thing for the rest of the evening."

Rolling your eyes playfully, you watch as Changbin goes into the en suite and comes back with some alcohol wipes. He sits next to you on the bed and takes one hand in his, gently patting down the scrapes. Mostly, your hands are just red from the fall, no longer bleeding at all, but Changbin still wraps your hands just in case, placing a kiss on each one afterwards.

"Next time, wait for me, okay?" Changbin looks at you, a small pout still present on his face.

"Yeah, yeah... I will," You promise, reaching out for him. "Now come here, I want cuddles."

HYUNJIN (wc: 549)

The whole right side of your face is bright red, a pouch of ice ironically held up to the raw skin. Hyunjin's face drops as he spots you across the arena, hurrying around to get to you. Once he does, he takes the hand holding the pouch away, examining your face.

"It's not as bad as it looks, probably," You say weakly, looking him in the eye. "I haven't actually seen, so that may be a lie."

"Does it hurt a lot?" You shake your head at his question. "Does anything else hurt?"

"My shoulder, a bit," You admit, dropping your gaze. "I landed weird, but I think it'll be fine. It's definitely not broken or dislocated, just sore."

Hyunjin shakes his head, looking out at the ice where other people are still skating. In his head, the world should have stopped for you the minute your body made contact with the ice. He huffs, breath coming out in a little cloud. Turning to him, you poke his arm to gain his attention back.

"I'm fine, really," You promise, but his expression tells you he doesn't quite believe that. "Can we just... go home?"

Nodding, Hyunjin stands and offers his hand to you. Not for physical support, but emotional, walking hand in hand out of the arena. The hallways are quiet as you detour for a bathroom break before leaving.

When you enter, the first thing you notice is just how red your skin has gotten, a noticeable difference from the other half of your face, but you can't help but snort. In all honesty, you look funny. The pain is low on a scale of 1-10, so you're able to find a bit more humour in the situation than Hyunjin at the moment. Once you exit, Hyunjin immediately grasps your hand in his again, his tight grip comforting. If anything, you're more embarrassed than anything.

Getting back to your place doesn't take long, and Hyunjin makes a beeline for your bathroom as you're still taking your coat off. You take your time meeting him in there, seeing some cream set out on the counter. As soon as you walk in, Hyunjin gestures for you to sit on the edge of the tub. Carefully, he puts a few small globs of the cream on your face. It stings a little, but feels nicer as he rubs it into the sore skin. His fingers glide over the curves of your face, taking care to cover every inch of your injury. When he's done, he turns your body and begins massaging the shoulder you landed on.

"Never downplay your pain, you hear me?" Hyunjin lightly scolds, resting his chin on your head as he pauses his actions.

"I meant it when I said it didn't really hurt." You giggle when Hyunjin sighs loudly at your answer. "But I won't, I swear. Does me promising this make you feel better?"

"Honestly?" Hyunjin hums, thinking for a moment. "No, not really, because I know you."

You can hear the teasing smile in his voice, the corners of your lips twitching into your own smile. His arms come around you, gently rocking you side to side, his plush lips pressing a kiss to your temple. Just having him by your side is healing enough.

JISUNG (wc: 608)

The gasp that leaves Jisung's mouth has people around him shooting weird glances, but all he's focused on his your body lying on the cement. There are a few shouts as he runs down to your body, slipping and sliding all the way down to you. You roll onto your back to see Jisung's face right above yours, eyes widening at how quickly he'd gotten to you.

"Baby! Are you okay? Are you hurt? Do we need to go to the hospit-" Jisung rambles, but you cut him off with a groan as you sit up, shaking your head, and he immediately stops talking.

You sit up cross-legged, taking a look over your limbs. With your elbows and knees protected, you've managed not to scrape anything. One of your new friends come running over as soon as she sees your on the ground, kneeling next to you on you other side.

"You okay?" She asks, looking you up and down.

"I'm fine, both of you." With some semi unnecessary help from Jisung, you stand up. "The only thing bruised here is my ego."

"Maybe we should go to the side for a second-" Jisung stops talking when the girl shoots him a look.

Noticing the way she's looking at him, you gently push her to the side and whisper something to her. She nods, giving one last look to Jisung before walking away. Taking a hold of Jisung's hand, you and him make your way back up and to your bag. He grabs it for you as you lead him over to a bench on the side.

Neither of you talk for a few minutes as you sip some water, looking out to everyone still skating, your own board sitting between your feet. It's a vibrant blue with orange accents, something Jisung picked out for you to celebrate you getting back into skating, along with the matching knee and elbow pads. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jisung fiddling with his fingers.

"I said I'm okay, you don't need to worry," You say with a soft laugh, turning your body to face him. He doesn't look at you, but he nods. "Sungie?"

"What if the board I got you is defective and that's why you fell?" Jisung looks at you briefly, glancing back to his fingers as he continues to voice his anxieties. "Or- or what if you hadn't had the pads and really got hurt?"

"Ji, look at me, please." You cup his cheek, gently making him turn; sad eyes stare back at you and your heart hurts just a bit. "None of this was because of you, and don't think of what could have happened. What matters is that I'm alright, and so are you, okay?"

He nods, and you can see a little bit of relief on his features with the small smile he gives you. You return the smile, bringing his face over to lean your foreheads together. After a moment, he pulls away just enough to place a kiss on your temple, whispering against your skin.

"You know I'd do anything for you." Jisungs hand tangles with yours, and you can feel your smile widen. "Anything, hurt or not. I'd stay by your side for a papercut."

This makes you laugh. "Remind me to text you next time I get one."

Your comment makes Jisung smile against your skin, and you back away enough to look him in the eye.

"Ready for me to go back out there?"

He nods, an embarrassed blush dusting his cheeks. "Yes, but if you do get hurt, I will be running back down there."

FELIX (wc: 851)

The two of you started the night off with some hot cocoa from a stand outside of the ice rink you were going to. Felix had been practically dying to take you out to the festival going on during the week once you both had a little time off, especially knowing your love for skating. Although the rink is small, he knew you'd love it anyway.

Now you're sitting on the side, sliding your shoes off and the skates on. The rentals fit a little loosely from all the usage, but still well enough once you tighten the laces. You help Felix with the fit of his, and all he can do is stare at you lovingly as you do this small act of service for him.

Holding hands, you lap around the ice smoothly a few times before slowing down. Neither of you really want to get off the ice yet, but you're legs are beginning to burn from the constant activity. There's a food truck of to the side, so you agree to take a break to eat and rest before continuing. You make a beeline for it on the other side of the rink, opting to go straight through rather than take your skates off early and walk around.

It's sudden, and you barely register you're falling until you've rolled off to the side. Pain radiates from your ankle, and Felix is by your side in an instant. When you look down to assess the damage, you notice your shoelace has become untied on one skate and is probably the cause of the fall. You frown; after all the years of skating, you know how to tie your laces tight enough. The one night you decide to use rentals, and you fall on your ass.

"Can you stand?" Felix asks, concern written all over his face.

You nod, letting him help you up. As soon as you put pressure on your right foot, your knees are buckling and you can't help but yelp in pain. Felix catches you, holding you tightly so you don't fall again.

"Love?" Felix holds you back a little, guiding you to sit down; thankfully, you were pretty much at the other side of the rink already. "Let me see... oh."

He pulls the skate off, along with your sock, to reveal the red, angry skin of your ankle, already beginning to swell slightly. Felix shakes his head, gently pushing your sock back up. You hiss in pain as his fingers brush the skin, an he looks up at you with worried eyes.

"We need to get you checked out, this looks bad." Felix takes your other skate off. "I'll be right back."

You watch him skate back to the other side to retrieve your belongings, manoeuvring through the crowds of people on the ice swiftly. When he returns, he helps you slip your left boot on, leaving the right one off just in case. People around you have barely even noticed the way you limp off the ice, Felix holding your right side to help take off the pressure. It doesn't take long for Felix to drive to the hospital from the rink. Despite the cold air, all you can focus on is the uncomfortable warmth from your ankle.

Entering your house with a groan, you hop stubbornly to your couch, covering your red face in embarrassment. Felix laughs softly at your reaction, kicking his shoes off before joining you. Gently, he brings your hands away from your face and brings one of his to turn your chin to look at him.

"Everyone makes mistakes, love," Felix cups your cheek when you pout. "One twisted ankle from busted skates isn't the end of the world. You'll heal, and I'll be here the whole time."

"What about-"

"No." Felix says firmly, shaking his head. "I'll be here. You're not allowed to walk without my help until you're better. Now," He takes a pillow, standing up and placing it down where he was sitting. "Let's get this thing elevated."

Felix takes your foot with care, lifting it onto the pillow. He leans over to kiss your forehead before leaving to the kitchen behind you.

"Comfort food?" He calls out, and you look back confused; he just leans against the counter with a small smile. "We didn't get to eat before, and I want you to be as comfortable as possible. I'll bring the flowers in for you too."

"You're too good to me," You sigh, but nod your head. "I'd love that. Can we just... cuddle after?"

"Of course we can." Felix's voice gets closer as he comes back to place another kiss on your forehead, but you want the real deal, reaching up to pull him closer by the neck.

His soft lips connect with yours and you melt into it, smiling into the kiss. When you eventually pull back, Felix leans his head on yours.

"I swear your kisses can heal me," You say quietly.

Felix looks down to where your foot sits atop the pillow, still red and swollen. "Nope, still twisted."

SEUNGMIN (wc: 922)

It's another ten minutes until you see Seungmin approaching from the other side of the food court, standing right as your eyes land on him. His hands are tucked behind his back, piquing your interest as he's clearly hiding something. Instead of stopping when he gets to you, Seungmin turns and walks a few steps backward, nodding you over to follow him with a smirk on his face. You run up to him, trying to see what he's hiding, but he keeps moving in a way you can't.

"Be patient, we need to get outside." Seungmin groans, but you can hear the playfulness in his voice.

"You know I don't like surprises-"

"No, you like to say you don't," He counters, and you feel the corners of your lips tug upward. "I know you better than that."

You exit the mall a few moments later, having only met there as a convenient spot between your two homes. Seungmin gestures you over to the emptier side of the parking lot wrapping around, and you spot a small picnic area set up; your heart skips a beat seeing the effort Seungmin has put into this.

"Min..." You run up to the picnic table, eyes gazing over the set up; there are small cakes and treats and your favourite takeout all organized on the wooden structure. You're about to speak again, but gasp instead when you turn and see what he's holding out.

Seungmin smiles at your reaction, holding your previously broken skateboard up with both hands. The wheel had broken from years of use, and you haven't had the time to go out and get it fixed, so it's been collecting dust in the corner of your room for weeks. To see that Seungmin went out of his way to have it fixed as a surprise for your anniversary date was enough to make you tear up.

Seeing your expression, Seungmin places the board on the ground and comes up to you, pulling you gently by the hands over to it. He knows how much you love to skate, how important this is for you, so he thought it'd be a nice surprise. He places a kiss on your temple, urging you to get on.

You spend the next thirty minutes or so going back and forth on the sidewalk by the table, stopping to have a few bites and talk to Seungmin. He stares at you as you head away from him again, his lips twitching up into a small smile when he sees how much you're enjoying yourself. When you turn around, you go a bit faster, wanting to get back to Seungmin quickly to give him his gift. You don't notice the way your board goes of on an angle, too excited.

"Baby, I have someth- woah!" You collide with the hard ground, cement scraping your arms as you tumble.

"Y/n!" Seungmin shoots out of his seat, kneeling next to you and helping you into a sitting position. "God, what the hell? Are you okay?"

"I fall and the first thing you say to me is 'what the hell'," You try and laugh, but your eyes are stinging with unshed tears at the pain in your forearms.

Seungmin lifts your arms to him, inhaling sharply at the bloody scrapes decorating your skin. Dropping your arms, he runs back to the table, grabbing his bag. You watch him with a confused look until you spot the small first aid kit in his open bag.

"Always prepared," You mumble, pouting. You really lucked out with Seungmin.

"With a partner as clumsy as you? Of course I am," He jokes, taking out some wipes.

His touch is light as he pats the wounds, looking up at you every so often to make sure you're alright. Although you're making faces every time the wipe comes in contact with your skin, at least you aren't close to crying anymore, now used to the slight burning sensation on your raw skin. Seungmin carefully places some large bandaids on the scrapes, kissing each one as he does; his care makes your heart ache.

"I'll pack up and we can head back to yours. I don't want you getting hurt again." Seungmin declares, standing and helping you back on your feet.

"What? No," You shake your head, grabbing Seungmin's hand before he can get much further. "I want to enjoy our date how it was meant to be. They're just a few bumps and bruises, nothing I can't handle."

Seungmin looks at you, and you can tell he doesn't want to do that. What he wants is to take care of you, wrap you up in a warm blanket and never let you go. After a moment, he sighs, and you can tell he's giving in to the look you're giving him.

"Fine, but on one condition." You wait for him to continue. "We go in and buy you some new knee pads and stuff. Then you let me pamper you when we get to yours."

"Kim Seungmin, are you admitting you care about me?" You laugh, poking his cheek; he swats your hand away softly.

"Never in your wildest dreams."

"I don't know, my dreams can get pretty wild... oh!" You run over to your bag, digging to the bottom to grab an envelop. "Your gift!"

Seungmin laughs at your sudden change in topic, eyeing the envelop. Inside are two tickets to see his favourite baseball team, and you can't wait to see the look on his face.

JEONGIN (wc: 862)

"Yes, I can see." Jeongin wraps his arm around your shoulders, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"Oh!" You're surprised a bit from the sudden appearance and affection of your boyfriend, but lean into him. "I wasn't expecting you to be here yet."

"I got out early. Let's go get the skates."

Jeongin keeps a hand on your back the whole way to the line up to retrieve the skates. Although you have your own, he still needs some, so you wait in line with him and catch up on your days. The whole time you're talking, you can't help but be a little stuck on his comment earlier, wondering if he was being serious, but you know neither of you like grand, public gestures like that.

The rink isn't incredibly busy for a Friday night, and you aren't complaining. It's easier to do and go where you want, colourful lights reflecting off the shiny ground. You look at Jeongin beside you, reds and blues and greens dancing over his sharp features; you're mesmerized.

Which is definitely what causes you to go crashing into the wall of the rink, losing your balance and falling backward. The back of your head smacks the hard ground, and you can feel tears stinging the corners of your eyes at the impact. Before you can really react, there are already gentle hands on your head trying to assess the damage. Your ears are ringing a bit, but you can hear your boyfriend's voice from above you and open your eyes, having squeezed them shut in pain.

"Y/n? Baby?" Jeongin's voice becomes clearer as he helps you sit up against the wall. "Say something, please. You're freaking me out."

"My head hurts," You whine, pouting and bringing your own hands to your head; you aren't bleeding, but there's sure to be a bump tomorrow.

"Yeah, I wonder why." Jeongin clears his throat, signaling some staff over. "We'll get you off the rink carefully, okay? You probably gave yourself a concussion or something."

It doesn't take long to get off the rink, and you let Jeongin take your skates off, too busy with holding your face in your hands to block the lights out. What you once saw as a beautiful, mood-setting atmosphere was now giving you the worst headache of your life. You keep a hand above your eyes as you leave, another attempt to block light while still being able to see where you're going.

Jeongin helps you into his car, driving you to the nearest hospital. Inside, you keep your eyes closed during the long wait, burying your head into Jeongin's shoulder. You're so grateful for him staying with you, the way his hand rubs up and down your arm bringing you comfort; movements reserved for you, and only you.

The doctor confirms you have a mild concussion, discussing the details of your rest and recover before sending you home. Once you get in, you collapse onto your couch with a groan of embarrassment.

"Want me to make you something?" You look up to see Jeongin setting his bag down and taking his coat off, giving him a confused look. "What? You really think I'm just going to drop you off at home, in pain, and dip?"

"You have things to do tomorrow-"

"Not anymore." Jeongin moves toward your kitchen. "Cancelled everything this week. I can't have you alone right now."

The casual tone of his voice has you melting, looking on at him with adoration in your eyes. You watch as he prepares you something, bringing over your favourite homemade comfort food. When he sets it down on the coffee table, you look up at him from where you're now curled up on the couch under a blanket.

"Would you hate me if I said I was too nauseous to eat right now?" You ask quietly, barely holding his gaze.

"Of course," Jeongin says with a smirk.

You reach out to smack him playfully, temporarily forgetting about your concussion and moving way too quickly. Grabbing onto the arm of the couch, you steady yourself from the wave of dizziness. Jeongin is instantly kneeling down and leaning you back, lightly scolding you as he does. A small smile forms on your face.

"You're lucky I love you," You giggle, looking at him with partially closed eyes.

"I am. I really am." Jeongin sighs, getting up to sit next to you.

Pulling him closer with your eyes closed, your hands brush the corner of something sticking out of his pocket, eyes instantly opening back up. You catch a glimpse of the corner of a red box before Jeongin begins bringing your blanket over him, but you stop him.

"You weren't kidding?" You look at him with wide eyes. It takes a moment to register what you're talking about, and then he begins to blush, hard.

"I wasn't."

"Jeongin-" He holds a finger to your lips to silence you.

"No, don't say anything. I want to wait until you're feeling better, okay?" You nod, and he leans in to kiss your cheek. "Now rest, baby. Need you healed up so I can do this the right way."

notes - HELP i actually don't know how to write anymore or smthn??? i'm so sorry if this is ass. me vs feeling insecure abt my writing ahahahahaha anyway. thank u for the request! i feel like maybe this didn't go the right direction sjdksk this is partially unedited too bc i kind of can't stand to reread my own writing so many times rn, so i apologize for any mistakes 🤡

─── taglist : @chaeryred @toplinelix @channie-143 @staysinbloom

#⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ SKZ SCENARIOS ⋆｡˚✴︎⋆#🔮 anon!#skz texts #skz fake texts #skz #stray kids texts #stray kids fake texts #stray kids #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios

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revelboo · 6 months ago

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Yesss! Thank you so much for the Insecticons! You even did Shrapnel’s voice (I’ve been disappointed before lol 😔). Can’t wait to see the human get their four-way gangbang coronation-

Meanwhile reader really doesn’t want the coronation or to be dinner.

You (Don’t) Know Me Pt 2

Insecticons x Reader

Warnings: 18+ storyline 🌶️ Dubcon, eventual sparked reader

• Running headlong, branches claw at your hair and arms, scrape painfully across your face. More than once, you bang into trees, eyes struggling to adjust to the dark, but unable to stop running even for a second. Not when you can hear those things crashing after you, your own gasping breaths too loud in your ears. A screech and you change directions, shoulder slamming into a tree as another one comes out of nowhere. You have only an impression of size and that fiery red glow of optics as you scream and keep moving, feeling claws snag the back of your shirt, your feet momentarily leaving the ground before the material rips and you’re stumbling, clawing upright and running again, mindless with terror.

• Almost. Hearing Bombshell’s chittering laughter as you manage to escape his grasp, Kickback grins. Because you’re making them work to capture you, refusing to just submit to them. He’d known when he’d caught your scent that you were what he’d hoped for. Singing out to make Shrapnel hiss, Kickback watches you change directions at the sound. In the trees, you’re small enough to have the advantage, but he’s been here before and knows you’re about to run out of cover. And then you’re his. Theirs. A sweet little treat to claim.

• Lunging for you, Shrapnel’s shoulder bumps into Bombshell’s. The high from the hunt spinning him tight as he tries to be the one to capture you. Knows Kickback’s enamored with the idea of a soft little queen for their small hive, but he’s not entirely sold on that. A toy, though? Or a snack? Hissing as you break from the trees into the clearing, moonlight silvering you, and for a moment, he understands Kickback’s fascination with humans. You look like you’re made of moonlight, unreal almost. Sees the moment you spot the old cabin and head straight for it. But there’s a scent lingering in the area that hasn’t been there before, one that jangles through him dangerously. “Catch the human now, now,” he urges his brothers.

• Eyes burning with tears, you run for the cabin up ahead. Maybe there’s someone who can help you? Maybe you can hide from whatever’s chasing you inside? There’s a bigger shape beside the cabin, a big shadowy lump that you think might be an RV. “Help! Somebody help!” You scream and then that big shape moves. Two glowing eyes opening as something massive stands up, limned in moonlight. Skidding and falling on your hip, your pursuers catch up. Demonic shapes crouched around and over you as that bigger shape takes a lumbering step your way and roars.

• “Grimlock,” Bombshell snarls as he crouches, swapping to his alt mode as his brothers follow suit. Aware of the little human laying in the grass and that he’s not losing you to a dinobot after working so hard to claim you. Hissing, he attacks. Grimlock is bigger and stronger, but slow. Massive jaws closing on air again and again until Kickback screams out in pain. Shrapnel unleashing his pent up electricity in retaliation. Knowing they can’t win against the dinobot, only hope to discourage him from pursuing. Turning to flee, he hisses when Kickback lurches after the human who’s back on their feet and running back into the woods.

• Something snares your leg and you scream as you go sprawling in the leaves and dirt. Feel something grab you by the back of your shirt and then you’re being dragged off into the woods, the thing that has you hissing softly. Struggling to get free, you see the cave and grab at trees to try and stop yourself from being pulled inside, knowing that if you’re dragged in there, you’re not coming back out. Too terrified to scream, barely able to breathe as you’re pulled inside despite your struggling. See the other two monsters lingering at the opening watching. The moonlight filtering through the trees painting an unpleasant picture. Giant bugs with glowing optics. Monsters. “Best hope he doesn’t get hungry, hungry,” one hisses as the one with a grip on you drags you deeper into the darkness.

• Lingering at the entrance to the cave they’d dug out to have a place to escape the Decepticons if need be, Shrapnel watches Kickback drag you into the corner where he’d been collecting soft things to sleep on. Injured as he is, it’s entirely possible Kickback might eat you while he and Bombshell are stealing energon to help him self repair. But then if he does, they can always find a new toy. Even if you were a good hunt. Only getting captured because Grimlock had startled you. And he’d wanted to see how long you could go before you collapsed and submitted to them. A pity.

I’ve bought from both of these sellers on EBay. CollectIconInc ships fast from the U.S. Yaked50 ships from China and takes… a lot longer than anticipated to ship, but I’ve bought harder to find Blokees from them without an issue. I ordered the new wave 6’s that aren’t released where I live yet from them.

#transformers x reader #insecticons x reader #g1 bombshell #g1 shrapnel #g1 kickback

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haunthouse · 1 year ago

Text

i hate ai as much as the next guy but the fearmongering about tumblr adding an opt-out-of-ai-scraping setting is ridiculous imo. like no they didn't start selling all your posts to ai companies without announcing it. the entire internet is being scraped by ai shit daily. this isn't some tumblr exec handing over a bag full of art people have posted on here to an ai firm, it's programs that scan the entire internet (the same way the internet archive does to save things on the wayback machine, if i understand it correctly), and basically every single social media site is partnering with ai companies rn to try to stay ahead of the game / retain some control over their data. opting out means reblogs of your work also won't be used in ai data sets.

like. don't get me wrong. i don't like that having my artwork online guarantees it'll be scraped by ai programs either. but there's really not that much that can be done against that at this point. i think tumblr discouraging general ai scraping on its site + letting users opt out of their stuff being shared with the ai companies they partner with is like. probably the best case scenario of all this stuff. still not GOOD but probably not as much of a catastrophe as my entire dashboard seems to think it is

but maybe telling people not to jump hastily to conclusions and get mad about it is too much to ask for on the "jump hastily to conclusions and get mad about it" website

* btw adding the caveat here that i 100% fully believe the ai craze is doomed to fail and will crash and burn just like nfts did so that colors a lot of my thoughts on the matter. i also do fully believe everyone should be backing up their content onto their own sites that they have control over regardless of any of this

#kaylee.txt

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kikyoupdates · 10 months ago

Text

Love Bite ⭑˚🩸⭑ 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑏𝑖𝑡𝑒

yandere!vampires x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, original characters, vampire!ocs x fem!reader

Desperate for money to pay off your debts, you sign up for a program that allows you to sell your blood to vampires. At first, everything is fine, and you’re finally able to make ends meet. But they soon begin craving more than just your blood.

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Certain people are dealt a shittier hand in life than others, and unfortunately, you are one of those people.

Life has never been easy for you. As far back as you can remember, it's been one shitstorm after the other. Your parents are as good as dead to you, because all they ever did was make reckless choices and run away, leaving you to clean up their mess. That's how, at the young age of twenty, you've already got more debt than the average person could ever fathom.

Still, you make do. You hustle as best you can to get through one day and move on to the next. It's exhausting, and sometimes it feels like you're ready to give up, but against all odds, you persevere.

"That'll be 50 credits," the cashier says.

You let out a sigh and give her your card. Everything is so goddamn expensive these days. Even a simple grocery trip feels like a big slap in the face.

"Oh. Sorry," she blinks. "It's been declined. Do you have any other form of payment on hand?"

Shit. This one too?

You mumble an apology and dig through your wallet again. Thankfully, you happen to have enough cash to cover the cost. Just barely.

"Thank you for shopping with us," the cashier recites monotonously. She packs your groceries in a bag and hands it to you, then gestures for the next customer to step forward.

You leave the store the same as always, feeling worn-down and discouraged. You'll have to apply for a new card, but who knows when they'll send it to you. Goddammit. You're already scraping the bottom of the barrel as is. You hardly have enough emergency savings to last until then.

It's a shitty day, and unfortunately for you, it's about to get even worse.

"[Name]," a distinct, familiar voice mutters. You flinch at the sound, nearly dropping your grocery bag in the process. There's a man standing outside your apartment complex. A man that always makes your stomach crease in discomfort.

You instinctively step back. "I don't want any trouble, Johnny. Please, can I just get through?"

He ignores you and walks over, and while you stand there, stiff from fright, he peeks into your grocery bag and hums, visibly amused.

"Not exactly a lavish dinner," he chuckles. "But I guess you've got no choice but to be frugal, huh?"

"I just want to go home," you plead. "Please. Don't do this."

Alas, Johnny has never been one to give a shit about your circumstances, and today is no exception.

"I haven't been getting the money you promised me," he glares. "You've been late on your payments, and I'm really starting to lose my patience here."

You try to protest, but he wraps his hand around your throat and forcibly pins you against a wall. He isn't applying too much pressure, not yet, but the threat is there all the same.

"You owe me money, [Name]." His pupils constrict, a telltale sign that he's furious. "I'm done with your shitty excuses. If you can't make good on your promises, then you pay the price. This is the way the world works."

He holds you there, just so he can watch you whimper and cower in fear, then he eventually releases his hold on you and steps away.

"I'm giving you one more week," he says. "If you don't come up with the amount we agreed on in one week, I might seriously have to kill you. And don't even think of running away like your parents did. I'm sure as hell not gonna make the same mistake twice."

Johnny walks off with a steady, relaxed gait and his hands buried in his pockets. It's that easy for him. He can threaten an innocent woman and not think anything of it, the sick bastard.

You sniffle and resist the urge to cry. Fuck your parents. All they ever did was ruin your life. You have no idea where they're hiding right now, but for their own sake, they had better not show their faces around you ever again.

Still. There's no point in lamenting what can't be changed. Your parents are gone. It's up to you to remedy this situation and pay that disgusting loan shark back.

The question is, how?

How in the world will you pull that off? You barely make enough to eat two meals a day and cover your rent, let alone the steep cost of your debts.

It just seems like a lost cause. You've been working yourself to the bone, but you still can't even make a dent in what your parents owe. It's all too much to bear. It makes you want to forfeit your life entirely. At least then, you might finally be able to rest in peace.

Weighed down by the hopelessness of your situation, you trudge into your crappy studio apartment, chuck the groceries in the fridge, and plop down on the couch, defeated.

I guess it's time to look for another job. Something I can squeeze into my schedule. I can probably survive without sleeping a few days in a row, right?

You chuckle brokenly and scroll through your phone, looking for anything you might have a shot at. Finding a good job in this city is yet another hopeless dream for someone like you, who didn't go to college and doesn't have any other notable qualifications. All of your current jobs may as well be paying you dirt, which is why you can never meet Johnny's ridiculous demands.

You're just about to give up and go make yourself a rather pathetic dinner, when suddenly, something catches your eye.

[𝗡𝗘𝗪 𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗚𝗥𝗔𝗠 𝗟𝗔𝗨𝗡𝗖𝗛]: 𝗕𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝗱𝗼𝗻𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗱. 𝗦𝘂𝗰𝗰𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗳𝘂𝗹 𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗹𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗻𝘁𝘀 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗰𝗼𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘃𝗮𝗺𝗽𝗶𝗿𝗲 𝗰𝗶𝘁𝗶𝘇𝗲𝗻𝘀 𝗼𝗻 𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝘀-𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝗮𝘀𝗶𝘀.

Vampires. Not long ago, a law was passed, granting vampires access to the city. More and more of them seem to be moving here, the central hub of the country. Of course, most people felt uncomfortable with this change, but it seems to be a necessary step in fighting back against years of discrimination. Humans naturally fear vampires, and the government is doing everything it can to integrate them into society.

Since drinking blood by force is considered a crime, this program is most likely a way for vampires to obtain their blood safely and without any consequence, just so long as people are willing to sign up for it.

You take a moment to assess your situation. You have almost no money to your name, and there's a greedy loan shark that's just itching to torture you if you fail to pay him back in time. If you don't get some money, and fast, you're probably headed for the afterlife.

That being said, you've never encountered a vampire before. You've heard all sorts of horror stories about them. That they're physically stronger than humans, have more acute senses, and could easily bludgeon you to death if they wanted to.

But even if that's actually true, how is it any different than what Johnny will do to you if you don't pay him back?

You press your lips together. Perhaps there's no harm in trying at least once and seeing how it'll go. It's not like you're guaranteed to get accepted for the program anyways. And besides, this is being implemented by the government, so surely, they won't allow any humans to come to harm in the process.

Above all else, you are incredibly desperate, with very little to lose.

So, you decide to take a gamble.

𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗟𝗬 [𝗫]?

...

Your luck might finally be changing for the better, or maybe they're just desperate for applicants, but either way, you got the job.

It was a bit tedious. The screening process was rather lengthy, and they made you do quite a few medical tests to ensure you didn't have any infectious diseases or anything like that. You suppose having a clean bill of health is the one thing required for this position, considering you'll be giving your blood to someone else. Thankfully, even though your life is shit, you've always been rather sturdy, which is the only reason you've lasted this long.

You're currently walking through a glossy white corridor. The building you're in is polished and sleek, some kind of medical company that's been researching vampires for quite a long time. They call themselves Plasma Inc., which is a bit tacky, but you're certainly in no position to judge.

The doctor escorting you holds a clipboard against his chest, and glances over at you every so often.

"We're almost there," he says. After a brief pause, he adds, "There's no need to be nervous."

Honestly, you're a little nervous, but only because you've never done this before. Giving your blood to a vampire... it all sounds so farfetched. You really didn't think this was something you'd ever be doing.

But beggars can't afford to be choosers.

"For the client's privacy and peace of mind, there aren't any cameras inside the room. We will not be able to see or hear anything that happens in there. You signed the confidentiality clause, so please keep in mind that you will be liable for any private information that you happen to disclose."

You knew as much going into this. There's no point in psyching yourself out. Everything's going to be fine. This is all perfectly safe.

...it should be, at least.

"Whenever you're ready," the doctor says. He's stopped in front of a door, and you instinctively gulp as you imagine what—or rather, who—is on the other side.

Okay, then. No reason to back out now. You chose this. It's a desperate measure, and sure, you'll lose a bit of blood in the process, but if it helps you pay off your debt and get back on your feet, then it's easily worth it.

"I'm ready," you say.

The doctor nods briefly, offers you an encouraging smile, then opens the door.

It closes behind you right away, and your eyes instinctively search the room until they land on a motionless, seated figure.

It's a man. Well, a vampire, but still a man. Deep down, you'd been hoping that it might be a woman. A man seems somewhat more intimidating, although you suppose all vampires are stronger than humans, so it wouldn't have made a difference either way.

He's beautiful, though. Vampires are scarce in numbers, and they don't usually go out during the day, so it's unlikely that you would have ever passed by one. But you've only ever heard people speak of them in frightening terms. Never in a million years did you imagine they'd be so utterly gorgeous. Or perhaps this particular vampire is simply an exception.

You don't quite realize how much time you've spent fawning over his appearance until he suddenly stands up.

Instinctively, you flinch, and it's clear that it doesn't go unnoticed.

He narrows his eyes. "If you're not comfortable doing this, you're welcome to leave. I was told that the humans who signed up for this program were all completely willing. I have no intention of taking your blood without your full cooperation."

"Oh. S-Sorry," you stammer. "I'm not uncomfortable. I guess I'm just a little bit starstruck. It's my first time meeting a vampire."

"There's no need to gawk at me. I'm not some animal trapped inside a cage."

He has a rather harsh tongue, but again, you're in no position to judge. Perhaps your reaction offended him, unintentional as it may have been.

"Sorry," you say again, then you offer him a weak smile. "Um... I'm [Name]. I'm not really sure what the etiquette for this sort of thing is, but it's nice to meet you."

It takes him a while to respond. He studies you quietly with those mesmerizing eyes of his, and the silence is awkward, to say the least.

"I'm Xavier," he finally replies. He frowns a bit. "But I didn't come here to chat. If you're ready, I'll like to move on with this as soon as possible."

Right. He's here for the same reason you are. It's not an opportunity for the two of you to exchange pleasantries.

You're here to sell your blood, and he's here to drink it.

"Okay," you swallow. Now that it's come down to it, you can feel your heart beating faster by the second. But this is fine. This is nothing. Compared to all the shit you've already been through, this may as well be a walk in the park.

You walk over to him, taking slow, careful steps, then you sit down in one of the chairs. He does the same, staring at you without blinking the whole time. You watch as he shuffles a bit closer, and he uses his fingers to pull down the collar of your shirt slightly. You shiver at the sensation of his skin brushing against yours. God, his hands are cold.

Xavier stares right into your eyes. "This is your last chance to back out. If you tell me to stop now, I will, but otherwise, I'll take it that you've agreed to move on."

"I'm fine," you reassure. Despite the fact that your stomach is a bundle of nerves right now, you're determined to press on. You need this. There's simply no other option.

You'll do whatever it takes to live on, even if it means selling the very essence that grants you life in the first place.

"Okay," Xavier says, and he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. His jaw unhinges, and the last thing you see before you squeeze your eyes shut is the pearly-white color of his bright, glistening fangs.

He bites into your neck.

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gothicxreylover · 5 months ago

Note

Yandere hashiras with a mizunoto s/o that uses the same breathing style as them.

Here you go! Thank you for your request and enjoy! I had done another request similar to yours so I hope you don’t mind that I put it in here.

Giyu Tomioka (Water Hashira)

Giyu is a quiet and withdrawn yandere who struggles to express his emotions, but his obsession with his Mizunoto S/O runs deep. He’s both proud and apprehensive about them using Water Breathing. While he admires their dedication, it also fuels his anxiety, as he knows the dangers of battle all too well. Giyu convinces himself that no one is as capable of teaching them as he is, leading to long, isolated training sessions where he carefully monitors every movement they make.

In his mind, his S/O’s safety is his responsibility alone. He uses his rank to manipulate the mission board, ensuring they’re never assigned to anything too dangerous. If they’re injured—even from a minor scrape—he blames himself and becomes even more protective, to the point of smothering them. Though his behavior might come across as cold, Giyu’s intensity grows if he perceives others trying to get close to them. He may not express jealousy openly, but those who overstep their boundaries often find themselves on the receiving end of his sharp gaze and subtly threatening words.

Kyojuro Rengoku (Flame Hashira)

Kyojuro’s fiery passion extends to his Mizunoto S/O, who he adores and cherishes with his whole heart. Seeing them use Flame Breathing fills him with pride, as he feels they’re carrying on the legacy of his family. However, his obsession with their safety is overwhelming. Kyojuro insists on supervising all their training personally, praising their progress while subtly discouraging them from taking on challenging missions.

His boundless energy and enthusiasm might feel suffocating, as Kyojuro rarely leaves them alone. He constantly reassures them, telling them they’re “precious” and that he won’t let anything happen to them. While his love seems warm and genuine, it hides an intense possessiveness. If anyone tries to harm or get too close to his S/O, Kyojuro’s sunny demeanor can shift in an instant, and he won’t hesitate to confront the offender with unrelenting force. His need to protect them becomes his driving purpose, to the point where he’ll even consider retiring them from active duty if it means keeping them safe.

Shinobu Kocho (Insect Hashira)

Shinobu’s sweet smile hides a razor-sharp possessiveness that her Mizunoto S/O might not notice at first. She’s thrilled that they use Insect Breathing, viewing it as a unique connection between them. Shinobu dedicates herself to training them, often tailoring techniques specifically to their abilities. However, her guidance always comes with an undercurrent of control—she ensures that they remain dependent on her expertise and approval.

Shinobu manipulates circumstances to keep them close, whether by influencing mission assignments or subtly dissuading them from seeking advice from others. She’s incredibly protective, but her kindness takes a dark turn if anyone threatens her S/O. Colleagues who grow too familiar with them might suddenly find themselves on the receiving end of Shinobu’s unnervingly polite warnings, laced with implications that send chills down their spine. Her obsession is carefully masked by her outward cheerfulness, but in truth, Shinobu views her S/O as a delicate treasure she must shield from the cruel world—no matter the cost.

Mitsuri Kanroji (Love Hashira)

Mitsuri’s adoration for her Mizunoto S/O is boundless and overwhelming. The fact that they use Love Breathing makes her feel an even deeper connection to them—she sees it as proof that they’re destined to be together. Mitsuri constantly showers them with affection, praising every little thing they do during training and encouraging them with enthusiastic declarations of love. Her compliments are sweet but excessive, making it impossible for her S/O to escape her doting presence.

Despite her bubbly and kind demeanor, Mitsuri’s obsession runs dangerously deep. She’s terrified of them being hurt, so she works behind the scenes to keep them away from dangerous missions. If that means pleading with her superiors or even taking their assignments herself, she’ll gladly do it. Mitsuri’s clinginess can be suffocating—she insists on being with them at all times, whether it’s for training, eating, or resting.

If anyone else shows too much interest in her S/O, Mitsuri becomes surprisingly intimidating. Her normally soft, cheerful voice takes on a sharper edge as she gently but firmly asserts her claim over them. In her heart, she believes that her obsessive need to protect and love them is justified—after all, she’s doing it because they’re her one and only.

Sanemi Shinazugawa (Wind Hashira)

Sanemi’s yandere tendencies are fueled by his deeply ingrained fear of loss and his fierce protectiveness. Seeing his Mizunoto S/O use Wind Breathing fills him with a mix of pride and dread—he knows firsthand how dangerous their path is, and it terrifies him. While he admires their determination, Sanemi can’t stand the thought of them getting hurt, so he takes it upon himself to train them to his impossible standards. His training sessions are grueling and often harsh, but they’re born out of a desperate need to ensure they can survive.

Sanemi’s possessiveness is intense and volatile. He keeps a close eye on them, demanding to know where they are and what they’re doing at all times. If they disobey him or take on a mission he deems too risky, his anger flares, but beneath the yelling is a deep fear of losing them. He often uses his rank to interfere with their assignments, ensuring they’re only sent on missions he considers safe enough.

If anyone flirts with or even gets too friendly with his S/O, Sanemi’s temper explodes. He doesn’t care if it’s a fellow Demon Slayer or a civilian—he’s not above using intimidation or outright threats to make sure everyone knows they belong to him. Despite his rough exterior, Sanemi’s obsession stems from love and fear, though his methods of showing it can be controlling and suffocating.

Tengen Uzui (Sound Hashira)

Tengen’s flamboyant and larger-than-life personality makes his yandere tendencies loud and impossible to ignore. He’s overjoyed that his Mizunoto S/O uses Sound Breathing—it’s “flamboyant,” after all, and he sees it as a sign that they’re uniquely suited to be with him. Tengen insists on being the one to train them, declaring that only he can help them reach their full potential. His training sessions are intense but laced with constant praise and flirtation, making it clear that he sees them as both a warrior and a treasure to be protected.

Tengen is incredibly possessive and demands absolute loyalty. He expects his S/O to stay close to him at all times, going so far as to arrange their missions so they’re always together. His protective instincts are nearly overbearing—if he thinks a situation is too dangerous, he’ll outright forbid them from participating, regardless of their protests.

When it comes to rivals, Tengen is unapologetically bold. Anyone who flirts with or tries to get too close to his S/O is met with a charming but cutting remark that leaves no room for doubt about who they belong to. Behind closed doors, Tengen’s jealousy becomes even more apparent—he won’t hesitate to remind his S/O that they’re the most “flamboyant” part of his life, and no one else could possibly compare. Despite his controlling nature, his love for them is genuine, and he’ll do whatever it takes to keep them safe and happy in his own extravagant way.

Muichiro Tokito (Mist Hashira)

Muichiro’s yandere tendencies are subtle yet deeply unsettling. His aloof demeanor makes it hard to tell just how possessive he is, but in truth, his Mizunoto S/O is always on his mind. The fact that they use Mist Breathing strengthens his attachment to them; he views it as a special connection that no one else can understand. Muichiro often insists on training them himself, his tone calm but firm, as if it’s a given that no one else is qualified to guide them.

Muichiro’s obsession manifests in quiet but controlling ways. He uses his authority to manipulate their assignments, ensuring they’re always within his reach. If they show signs of independence or try to push back against his control, he’s quick to shut it down, often with a chillingly detached remark like, “It’s for your own good.” Despite his usually forgetful nature, he remembers every detail about them—where they are, who they talk to, and how they’re progressing in their training.

If anyone tries to get close to his S/O, Muichiro’s behavior turns cold and unyielding. He’ll confront the person with an eerie calmness, his sharp words cutting through any attempts to argue. His obsession is rooted in a fear of losing them, though he rarely expresses it outright. To him, his S/O is like a wisp of mist—fragile and fleeting—and he’ll do whatever it takes to keep them from slipping away.

Gyomei Himejima (Stone Hashira)

Gyomei’s yandere tendencies are deeply rooted in his protective and nurturing nature. He views his Mizunoto S/O as someone fragile and precious, someone who must be shielded from the harshness of the world. The fact that they use Stone Breathing fills him with pride, but also a heavy sense of responsibility. Gyomei insists on overseeing their training personally, his gentle guidance often accompanied by prayers for their safety and well-being.

Despite his calm and kind demeanor, Gyomei’s possessiveness runs deep. He uses his rank and influence to keep them out of dangerous situations, going so far as to volunteer for their missions himself. If they ever express a desire to take on more challenging assignments, Gyomei gently but firmly denies them, explaining that their life is far more important than any mission.

Gyomei’s obsession becomes evident if anyone tries to harm or take them away from him. While he rarely loses his composure, his anger is terrifying when provoked—he will confront threats with unwavering resolve, ensuring they never come near his S/O again. He rationalizes his actions as acts of love and protection, believing it’s his duty to keep them safe, even if it means isolating them from the dangers—and people—of the world.

Obanai Iguro (Serpent Hashira)

Obanai is an intensely jealous and possessive yandere, though his obsession is often hidden beneath his quiet, observant nature. The fact that his Mizunoto S/O uses Serpent Breathing deepens his fixation on them, as he views it as a sign that they’re uniquely suited for one another. Obanai is highly critical during training, pushing them to perfection while secretly relishing the time they spend together. He masks his possessiveness with cold, calculated words, but every action he takes is meant to bind them closer to him.

Obanai’s jealousy is suffocating. He watches their interactions with others like a hawk, his gaze sharp and unyielding. If someone dares to get too close, he doesn’t hesitate to use his cunning and influence to eliminate the threat—whether through intimidation, sabotage, or outright confrontation. His pet snake, Kaburamaru, often acts as an extension of his obsessive tendencies, keeping an eye on his S/O even when he’s not physically present.

Despite his controlling nature, Obanai is deeply insecure. He fears that his S/O might leave him or find someone better, which only fuels his need to keep them close. In private moments, his vulnerability shows as he clings to them, quietly whispering that they’re the only person who could ever understand or love someone like him. His love is as suffocating as it is intense, and he’ll go to any lengths to ensure they remain by his side, no matter the cost.

Here the other scenario that’s similar to this, request -Can you do yandere hashiras with a mizunoto s/o that is beyond reckless when fighting and keeps getting hurt.

Giyu Tomioka (Water Hashira)

Giyu silently watches his S/O’s reckless behavior with a deep, burning sense of dread. He’s used to bottling up his emotions, but seeing them put themselves in danger again and again chips away at his calm façade. After every battle, Giyu insists on tending to their wounds himself, his hands trembling slightly as he works in silence. He doesn’t scold them outwardly but makes his displeasure clear through cold, cutting remarks like, “Do you have no regard for your life?”

When words don’t work, Giyu becomes even more controlling. He starts assigning himself to their missions or outright using his rank to pull them off dangerous ones. If they resist, he becomes quietly stern, his icy tone leaving no room for argument. Deep down, Giyu blames himself for their injuries, believing it’s his failure to protect them. His obsession grows stronger with every reckless act, until he’s willing to isolate them entirely to keep them safe.

Kyojuro Rengoku (Flame Hashira)

Kyojuro’s heart breaks every time his S/O comes back battered and bruised, though he hides it behind his usual bright smile. He admires their courage, but their recklessness terrifies him. After a battle, Kyojuro immediately fusses over them, his voice filled with concern as he lectures them about valuing their life. “Your life is precious! Please don’t throw it away so carelessly!”

When his words don’t sink in, Kyojuro takes a more hands-on approach. He insists on being with them during missions, not trusting anyone else to keep them safe. His overprotectiveness becomes suffocating—he won’t let them fight without him nearby and actively intervenes if he feels they’re being reckless. If their recklessness continues, Kyojuro might even try to convince them to step away from battle entirely, all while framing it as a loving, protective act.

Shinobu Kocho (Insect Hashira)

Shinobu’s concern manifests in her usual sweet yet unsettling way. When her S/O returns injured, she greets them with a warm smile, though her sharp eyes betray her true feelings. “Oh my, you’ve gone and hurt yourself again. How careless of you,” she says lightly as she patches them up. Her words are kind, but there’s an underlying tension that makes it clear she’s not happy.

If their reckless behavior persists, Shinobu begins to manipulate their circumstances. She subtly influences the mission board to keep them out of harm’s way or assigns herself to their missions to keep an eye on them. Her obsession drives her to ensure they’re never in a position to endanger themselves again, even if it means lying to them about the severity of their injuries to force them to rest. Anyone who encourages their behavior quickly finds themselves on the receiving end of her unsettlingly polite threats.

Sanemi Shinazugawa (Wind Hashira)

Sanemi is furious every time his S/O comes back injured, his anger masking the sheer panic he feels inside. He yells at them, his voice rough and trembling with emotion. “What the hell were you thinking? Do you want to die?!” His harsh words come from a place of fear, but he doesn’t know how to express his worry without it sounding like anger.

When yelling doesn’t work, Sanemi becomes even more controlling. He insists on training them himself, pushing them to their limits to ensure they can defend themselves. At the same time, he uses his authority to restrict their missions, arguing that they’re “not ready” for dangerous assignments. If anyone questions his actions, they’re met with his signature glare and a snarled, “I’m doing what’s best for them.” Sanemi’s obsession only grows as their recklessness continues, driving him to extremes to keep them alive—even if it means locking them away from the battlefield entirely.

Mitsuri Kanroji (Love Hashira)

Mitsuri is devastated every time her S/O gets hurt, tears streaming down her face as she tends to their injuries. “Why do you keep doing this to yourself? Don’t you know how much I worry about you?” she sobs, her voice trembling with concern. She tries to reason with them, begging them to be more careful, but her pleas often fall on deaf ears.

When her words fail, Mitsuri’s protective instincts kick into overdrive. She insists on accompanying them on every mission, even if it means going against orders. Her usual bubbly demeanor becomes overshadowed by her desperation to keep them safe, and she grows increasingly anxious whenever they’re out of her sight. Mitsuri’s obsession drives her to extreme measures, such as sabotaging their weapons or exaggerating their injuries to force them to rest. Her love for them is pure, but her fear of losing them turns her into an overbearing shadow that refuses to let them fight alone.

Tengen Uzui (Sound Hashira)

Tengen pretends to laugh off his S/O’s recklessness at first, calling it “flamboyant” and teasing them about their daring stunts. But beneath his flashy exterior, he’s deeply worried. After every battle, he insists on checking their injuries himself, his usual confidence giving way to genuine concern. “You’re making me look bad, you know. How am I supposed to protect you if you keep throwing yourself into danger like this?”

When their recklessness doesn’t stop, Tengen’s possessiveness becomes more apparent. He starts assigning his wives to shadow them during missions, ensuring they’re never alone. If that’s not enough, he steps in himself, claiming it’s for the sake of teamwork. Tengen’s obsession with their safety becomes overbearing—he won’t let them fight unless he’s sure he can intervene at a moment’s notice. If they continue to defy him, he might even go so far as to sabotage their participation in missions entirely, all under the guise of protecting them.

Gyomei Himejima (Stone Hashira)

Gyomei’s heart aches every time his S/O comes back injured. He blames himself for their recklessness, believing that he’s failed to protect them. He kneels beside them, hands trembling as he prays for their safety, tears streaming silently down his face. “You are too precious to me to be so careless,” he says, his deep voice filled with sorrow.

Gyomei’s protective nature becomes suffocating as his obsession grows. He insists on accompanying them on every mission, even if it means going against orders. If that’s not possible, he uses his influence to keep them assigned to safe, low-risk tasks. His gentle demeanor hides a fierce determination to keep them out of harm’s way, and anyone who encourages their recklessness finds themselves on the receiving end of his quiet but intimidating warnings. Gyomei would do anything to keep them safe, even if it means taking away their ability to fight entirely.

Muichiro Tokito (Mist Hashira)

Muichiro’s reaction to his Mizunoto S/O’s reckless behavior is subtle but deeply unnerving. At first, he doesn’t seem to care much, his detached demeanor making it seem like their injuries barely register. But beneath his calm exterior, Muichiro is quietly fixated on their every move. After a particularly reckless battle, he’ll wordlessly patch them up, his hands methodical and precise, but his sharp gaze betrays a simmering frustration. “You’re making things harder for me,” he might say, his tone eerily flat, as though their injuries are an inconvenience to his desire to keep them safe.

If their recklessness continues, Muichiro’s control starts tightening. He insists on training them personally, under the guise of “helping them improve,” but it’s really so he can monitor them constantly. Missions become a point of contention—he’ll use his authority to restrict their assignments, ensuring they’re never in situations where they might get hurt.

Muichiro’s possessiveness intensifies as his obsession grows. If they continue to defy his efforts, he won’t hesitate to isolate them completely, subtly sabotaging their opportunities to fight. While his actions seem calm and calculated, they stem from a deep fear of losing them. To Muichiro, they are like a fleeting mist—fragile and precious—and he will do whatever it takes to keep them from slipping away, even if it means they resent him for it.

Obanai Iguro (Serpent Hashira)

Obanai is both furious and terrified every time his reckless S/O gets hurt. His sharp tongue lashes out at them, his words dripping with venom. “Do you even care about yourself? Or are you trying to make me lose my mind?” he demands, his anger a thin mask for the deep fear he feels whenever they come back injured. While his scolding is harsh, his trembling hands as he wraps their wounds betray just how much he cares.

When words don’t work, Obanai’s possessive nature takes over. He starts shadowing them on missions, using Kaburamaru to keep a constant eye on them, even from a distance. He becomes increasingly controlling, insisting on approving their assignments or outright preventing them from taking on dangerous tasks. If they argue, he’s quick to guilt them, his voice low and cutting. “Do you know what it feels like to see you hurt over and over again? I’m not going to let you die because of your stupidity.”

Obanai’s jealousy also flares up during these moments. He becomes paranoid, convinced that anyone encouraging their recklessness is a threat. Whether it’s a fellow Demon Slayer or a superior officer, he won’t hesitate to use intimidation—or worse—to ensure they stay away. His obsession drives him to extreme measures, all under the pretense of keeping them safe. In his mind, his S/O belongs to him, and their life is far too valuable to be thrown away in battle, even if it means taking away their freedom to fight.

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princessbrunette · 1 year ago

Note

thinking about Sarah n johnbee helping you learn how to suck dick :( like you’ll be knelt infront of johnbee with Sarah next to you helping you out and instructing you on how to do it :3

“look, just like this — you’re doing so good don’t be discouraged. john b is like, huge — and i’ve had a lot of practice.” sarah furrows her brows, your faces close as she sloppily jerks off her boyfriend just below your lips. you nervously nod — trying to take all the advice thrown at you and shyly let her guide his tip past your lips once more as he winces, your mouth so warm and wet. “see? it’s okay.”

you suck, like she told you to and push your head down as far as you can take him — trying your very best not to scrape him with your teeth. it must’ve been a good one because he throws his head back, face all scrunched up and jaw dropping before panting back down at you. “hooooly — good girl.” he praises and sarah grins, stroking your back in circles as her lips join you back at his tip, tongue flicking over the pool of precum and feeding it into your mouth making you let out an aroused little whimper. “tasty, right?” she whispers, and john b strokes over the top of both your heads, encouraging you to continue.

#anon #john b x reader x sarah

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imthepunchlord · 6 months ago

Text

Fear

Read more here.

The secondary bell sounded off, and Seiko froze at its chime, looking up to meet Turbo Granny’s gaze from their game. Seiko slowly turned, to stare at the door, seeing a dark shape on the other side. She took a drag of her cigarette, anticipating trouble.

She had wards placed all around her home to discourage the visit of all yokai, mainly to settle down Okarun and discourage any territory guarding.

For one to come despite the wards, that meant it was powerful, or it was welcomed.

Of those that were welcomed, to set off that chime, concerned her more than the possibility of a powerful yokai treading into her home.

Seiko arose, grasping Nessie and headed for the door. Bracing for trouble, she flung it open, ready for an attack.

The attack didn’t come, but it didn’t stop Seiko from being startled.

Four Eyes stood before her, but it wasn’t quite him anymore.

This… this was the most monstrous she’s ever seen him.

There was no trace of humanity to be seen in his features. The black maw molded over his face entirely, cracked open, showing a second set of teeth in his mouth, constantly spewing black smoke. His glasses seemed to become his eyes, big and glowing, merged into the mask. The white hair had become a flaming mane, with red wisps flickering over the locks. He stood on four long, gangly limbs, his back covered by the smoke he breathed out, and Seiko noted his hands had been morphed into misshapen paws, though still retaining a semblance of human hands. Though barely.

There was a hissing rumble from Four Eyes, his voice deep and changed, sounding very much like demonic rasp, his teeth clacking together as the inner maw moved. It almost sounded difficult to speak.

“Momo. She got hurt. Help. Her.”

It was then that Seiko noticed one of his hands was cupped beneath him. Pressed to his chest protectively was her granddaughter, unconscious, with a bloody face.

Seiko swore, instinctively moving to reach for her only to freeze when Four Eyes hissed dangerously, taking a step back, bringing Momo even closer to him.

“Four Eyes,” Seiko warned.

“She can’t help her if you hold her, Idiot,” Turbo Granny grouched behind Seiko.

Turbo Granny got an angry hiss for that, but it seems the logic reasoned out for the yokai. Reluctantly, he held out Momo, as gently as he could.

Seiko didn’t take Momo from him yet, still wary to set Four Eyes, but she did take the chance to look over Momo. Thankfully, from what Seiko can assess, there was nothing too drastic. A bad scrape on her forehead, but it seems she just got knocked out.

Seiko drew away, pointing to the door. “Bring her inside,” she instructed.

With a deep rumble, Four Eyes did so, heavily lumbering in, smoke trailing behind him. Going to the den, he laid Momo out on the mat on the floor and laid down beside her, the empty glowing gaze seemingly locked on her.

Tentatively moving around Four Eyes, Seiko got to work, wiping and cleaning the wound before she bandaged it up. Then making a quick prayer, Seiko used her divine power to check over Momo and heal anything else.

Seiko drew away, declaring, “She’s all set.”

She quickly leaned when that big black maw came towards her.

“Not awake.”

“She’ll wake up when she wakes up, Brat,” Turbo Granny grouched.

With an agitated growl, Four Eyes slammed his paw-hand on Turbo Granny, pinning the angry cat down.

“Get off me!” Turbo Granny snarled.

“She’s right, Four Eyes,” Seiko said. “She just needs rest. And you need to calm down.”

Those literal glassy eyes turned towards her.

“You’re practically a full blown yokai right now. You’re too volatile and that makes you dangerous.”

Four Eyes snarled, clacking his maw dangerously, “I won’t hurt her.”

“I don’t trust your word,” Seiko stated flatly. “Not when I see how easily Turbo Granny is able to get under your skin.”

Four Eyes turned to eye the snarling cat, then released her. Instead of running away, Turbo Granny went to leap at his face and try to claw at him. Only to not even deliver a scratch at the hardened flesh that covered his face. Eventually, Turbo Granny dropped down, exhausted from trying to make a dent in that hardened face.

Seiko continued, “If you're not able to calm down, I will make wards to keep you out.”

Four Eyes was quiet for a moment, and in a pleading rasp, he promised, “Calm down. I calm down. No send away.”

He turned his glassy gaze to Momo, repeating desperately, “No send away.”

Seiko took in the pleading request, watching the yokai settle himself down, reaching for in a shy touch. He seemed to forget about them as he lay there, awaiting for Momo to awaken. Breathing out her own smoke, Seiko repeated, “You get one chance, Four Eyes. Do anything I don’t like and you’re out.”

He didn’t respond, just locked on Momo.

Seiko got up, grumbling about getting dinner started, making sure to stay vigilant in case Four Eyes did anything.

It was nearly an hour when Momo awoke, roused by the smell of dinner. She groaned, feeling achy, groggy, and hungry. Not ready to open her eyes, she mumbled out, “Whaz’s dinner te’night?”

She was about to sit up when she felt a familiar hard maw immediately pressed against her, blowing hot breath in her face.

“Okaruuun,” she whined, “give me a minute.”

Though try as she might, she couldn’t get that maw to move away. Momo decided then to use him as a means to help sit up, wincing at the dizziness she felt. Okarun thankfully stayed still, letting her lounge on his face until she collected herself.

“Dinner's going to be dumplings,” Gran answered from the kitchen.

Momo hummed at that, finally opening her achy eyes.

And saw two big, glassy, glowing eyes peering back at her intently, framed by bright red lines.

Momo fought the instinctive response to jerk back, immediately recognizing Okarun’s aura in front of her. She did sit back, taking in his monstrous appearance, how he loomed over her and seemed to take over the den with his size and presence.

“Okarun?” Momo asked, struggling with this new form.

“Momo,” he growled, and she could almost hear the hint of affection and relief. He drew near to gently nuzzle her, his long gangly arms coming to wrap around her—

A dumpling hit the big glassy eye, making the yokai pause.

“She literally just woke up, Four Eyes, give her some breathing room.”

Okarun didn't move right away to obey, if anything, his arms twitched as if he was going to fully pull Momo into his hold. Momo lightly pushed against his maw and Okarun eased away, a big long tongue coming out to lick up the dumpling on his face.

“What happened to him?” Momo asked as Seiko brought the food in, setting it on the table.

“Was hoping you'd know.”

Okarun’s long nail slid the platter of dumplings to Momo.

“Eat.”

Seiko slammed her chopsticks onto the platter, scooting it back to the center. “This is a family meal.”

Okarun hissed at Seiko. “Momo hurt.”

“I'm not eating all of that, Okarun,” Momo stated. Though she did grab a couple for herself, just in time for Turbo Granny to run in to join them, starting to fight Seiko for the other dumplings.

Momo tried offering a dumpling to Okarun but his maw stayed shut. He just kept staring down at her expectantly.

“So what were you facing?” Seiko asked.

“Some damn bounty hunter alien the Serpo hired,” Momo grouched. “Caught us by surprise.”

“Luckily it was nothing serious, at worst a knockout.”

Okarun made a sort of hissing noise, Momo suspected it to be a sigh.

“Four Eyes here I expect got scared and mad,” Seiko gave him an eyeball, “until he calms down, he won't be back to normal.”

Momo shot him a concerned look. “Like, I'm ok. I'm awake and fine. Are you still scared, Okarun?”

“Yes.”

“And mad?”

“Yes.”

“Well, damn, sorry for getting caught off guard.”

Okarun immediately nuzzled Momo, rumbling out, “I'm sorry. You hurt.” He clacked his maw, growling deeply, “Never again.”

Momo recalled the day of her abduction, of Okarun coming to her aid through Turbo Granny's rampage. She remembered his passionate promise to become a monster for her safety. She wondered now if that promise always stuck with him, and that affected his cursed form.

Momo finished her meal, bid her thanks, and announced she was heading to her room.

“Keep your door open,” Seiko said.

“I will,” Momo eased with a grumble, going up the stairs.

Okarun arose to follow unprompted, his steps heavy behind her, making the stairs groan in protest under his weight. Momo tried to ignore how his breath was always at the back of her neck with how close he followed her.

She got some relief when she reached her room, Okarun lingering by the door despite Momo leaving it open for him. She turned to him, stating, “I’m going to clean up and change clothes. Turn away.”

Okarun didn’t move right away, then he shuffled in place, turned away from her and laid down in front of her room. Momo frowned. He was so big that his form blocked off most of the door. Freshening up and changing, Momo plopped herself down on bed with a sigh, feeling the mattress bounce her. Glancing at the yokai still laid out on the floor, she called, “You can come join me now.”

Okarun shifted to life, his body groaning as he moved, shuffling to face her with bright, glowing eyes. He hesitated for a moment before he took a step into her room, maneuvering a little as he was almost too big for her door. He came to loom over her, casting a dark shadow over her. One paw-hand came up, to test the mattress, and it dipped so low and groaned so loud, Okarun drew away as Momo started to roll towards him.

Adjusting herself to sit up, Okarun settled just his head on the bed, sighing out dramatically.

Ignoring the gloomy aura he was giving off, Momo shuffled closer to his head. With a gentle touch, she started to probe and explore this new head. It felt like his whole face was covered in a hardened mask, with nothing of his human features to be seen. She lightly tapped the glasses, finding they really were molded into this new head. She wondered if they were made to be more durable in this form. Lastly she reached for his hair, feeling the soft, ethereal locks curl around her hand as they weaved and swayed.

The whole time, Okarun stayed still as Momo explored him, enjoying her touch and attention.

“Dang, Okarun,” Momo voiced, “you really took this to the extreme.”

“I will go farther,” Okarun promised, but it didn’t bring her the assurance he was aiming for, but a frown.

“What if you go so far, you don't come back?” Momo protested. “Can you transform back? Why haven't you?”

“Still scared. You scared me.”

“I'm probably going to scare you a lot,” Momo admitted. Okarun leaned forward, nuzzling her. She hugged his head back, continuing, “And you're probably going to scare me too.”

“I don’t want to.”

“And I don’t either.” She rested her head on top of his own, feeling his hair curl and shift under her cheek. One finger came up, tracing along the red lines, feeling the rough, ridged mask under her fingertip. She declared, “I miss your squishy face.”

“...I miss laying in bed.” He leaned heavily on the mattress, making it groan. “Makes me wilt…”

“Then you gotta figure out how to change back,” Momo said unhelpfully.

“Momo…” he groaned, almost sounding pitiful.

In a small bit of mercy, Momo offered, “Maybe you just need to ride it out.” Staring back into his glassy eyes, she rambled, “Sometimes you just can’t lid what you feel, sometimes it explodes out and takes over and, you just need to ride that wave and let it pass. It’s going to be rough, but,” she shrugged with uncertainty, “sometimes it just can’t be helped.”

Gran sometimes grumbled that Momo got too emotional.

And Momo herself can acknowledge that sometimes she responded too extremely. Her own emotions got the better of her and cut through any of her clever logic. That she’s caused him problems because of it.

She’s made the effort to get better, and had some reassurance from Grandma that the emotions themselves aren’t bad, they were there for her and reflected who she was, it’s all about the outlet.

Gazing at Okarun, his emotions really did bring out a big outlet. “So, maybe just let it be, those emotions should fade after a while.” It was calm here, he should relax here, right?

Okarun sighed out some smoke. “What a bummer.”

“Yeah, I’d love to cuddle with my boyfriend right now.”

She fell back on the bed, pouting at the ceiling, inwardly cursing the Serpo, and herself for getting Okarun into this position. Only to squeal when Okarun nudged her side, hitting that right spot that made her ticklish.

“Don’t do that!” she cried out, rolling away from him, glaring over her shoulder to see him clacking his teeth. If she didn’t know better, he was snickering at her.

Then Okarun stood up, his hunched form easily coming to tower over her, straining against her ceiling.

“Okarun?” Momo asked, peering up at the looming yokai. His whole frame was shadowed now, with only his big glowing glasses to shine down at her. She knew he wouldn’t do anything to hurt her, but she can’t deny that this was intimidating.

Tentatively, Okarun set his hands on either side of her bed, and started to ease him on the bed carefully, spreading his weight as much as possible for the groaning frame. Gradually, he laid himself on the bed, though his legs stuck out on it, Momo partially nestled underneath him. With a bit of squirming, Momo got herself comfortable, hugging his arm as she settled. Reaching out with her “hand”, she pulled back the latest book she’s been reading, offering to read it aloud.

Okarun gave no answer, but didn’t move, happy to hold and cuddle with her.

With a shrug, she started to read her book aloud, until her voice got laced with grogginess, and her eyes started to get heavy. It didn’t take much longer for her to fall to the temptation of sleep, safe in the yokai’s arms. Only to be jarred awake when Okarun started to twitch.

He himself had gone lax for a while, and not long after she had settled, only now his body started to spasm. Momo laid still, watching as he shrunk down until he was back to himself, his hair dark, no traces of grey skin or red lines on him. Though his clothes were ruined from the elongated transformation. Returned to normal as he was, he still partially laid on top of her, holding her tight with one arm.

Reaching out, she took off his glasses and set them out on the nightstand, then she brought out some of her baggier clothes for him with her telekinesis, so they’ll be available when he wakes. She yawned and wiggled in his hold. She gave one last poke to his now squishy face, grinning as he made a face, before she relaxed in his grasp.

If Okarun shifted like that again, she hoped cuddles were enough to help soothe the beast, at least until he was able to figure it out himself.

Okarun's form is based on this really cool design drawn by @cnmcn

#dandadan #dandadan fic #momo ayase #okarun #yokai okarun #turbo okarun #seiko ayase #ken takakura #turbo granny

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ambitiouspotions · 2 months ago

Text

SOUTHERN NIGHTS | FRANKIE MORALES | ONESHOT

summary — you and frankie visit your family to share big news at an easter crawfish boil

word count — 5k

warnings — southeastlouisianareader!, pre-triple frontier, fluff mostly, talk of cocaine addiction, na meetings & recovery, anxiety, terrible family banter/convo, age gap (reader 25, frankie 38), slight body shaming, semi-religious talk (not really but like just in case), easter holiday celebrated, pregnancy, rusty cajun french (sorry)

author’s note — i need at least one person to relate to this pls also happy holidays

the daiquiri machines tumbled their decadent inventory as frankie peered his head into the window of the drive-thru. college girls in their tennis skirts were busy fulfilling the order he had placed. his card was hanging lazily out the window of the rental car in his extended hand, waiting for his payment to be accepted. you were in the front seat, having lost some of the color in your face from feeling overwhelmingly nauseous after the flight and drive from the airport. you were trying to slap a bit of makeup on your face so as to not seem so sickly before arriving at your parents’ home.

those girls in the daiquiri shop reminded frankie of you when you were scraping by in college. they had just enough spunk and sarcasm to be funny without being rude. like them, that is what kept your tip jar mighty full when working towards a better life and a degree.

on your first meeting, frankie knew you would be his wife and that is exactly what he whispered to his friends who thought he was too many drinks deep. he was thirty-four, for god sake, fawning over some just now legal drinking aged cutie trying to kiss the ceiling of the top of the bar for a free drink. not to mention he and said friends were only in town for a week, having taken leave together so they could safely travel from an out-of-state military base to louisiana for a well-deserved break after benny miller suggested that it was the best place to party.

that definitely wasn't your proudest moment, absolutely sloshed, your skirt with no bloomers being hiked up from the stretch to pull yourself up some slick pole to kiss some dirty ripped sticker on the ceiling that barely said the bar's name anymore. you made it up, and back down, but when trying to step off the bar you fell. your girlfriends were drunkenly trying to pull you stand, only resulting in more fumbling.

frankie saw his chance, gently parting two of your friends and offering a hand. he looked different than he did now that he was retired from the service. only a thick mustache, his unruly hair that he grew out was in a regulation cut, and his love handles were non-existent.

how would you not expect help from him? dear god, your little college brain was spinning dumbly, trying to pull down your skirt as he helped you to your feet. the live band was still clanging on their instruments, but you were deaf to it only focusing on frankie’s eyes. they roped you in quicker than an alligator snapping up a whole chicken.

luckily even after slipping off the top of the bar the embarrassment never set in even with all eyes on you. your intoxicated state seemed to liven your mood, and even though the entire bar had seen your underwear and the bottom of your ass it didn't discourage you from taking your chance with the handsome stranger.

upon receiving your free drink, frankie offered you to dwell in your victory with him, and quite honestly there was more awkward laughter than actual speaking. a number exchange and the bar closing meant you parted your separate ways.

you were nervous to see him again, but you did. knowing he had only a week with you seemed discouraging, but there was something special about frankie. some older, military man that only had eyes for you in some dingy college bar made him so tempting. you put more trust in him than you should have because by the end of the week, you were head over heels, and so was frankie. he was whipped, absolutely whipped for some small-town girl with a pretty smile.

“that's one gallon of strawberry, and then a gallon of colada, and, uh, you had the 20oz bahama mama?” the attendant said, taking his card and exchanging it for a sleeve of cups. the top styrofoam cup was stuffed with straws and napkins.

frankie snapped out of thought, not really hearing her repeat anything, but agreeing anyway. “yeah, that’s everything,” frankie nodded, passing the stack of cups down to you, forcing you to stop adjusting your makeup. you rested the mascara tube in your lap, sliding the cups by your feet, as the rest of the order appeared. the gallons mingled together on the floorboard.

frankie handed you the styrofoam cup. the bahama mama daiquiri was specifically for your paternal grandmother, mimi, as you called her, who would refuse anything else sent her way. you wanted to be in her good graces especially after only visiting home a couple of times a year after starting a life with frankie in florida.

the styrofoam cup had its flimsy plastic lid attached with a piece of white tape. “i still don't understand how this is legal,” frankie chuckled as he pulled away from the drive-thru window.

“it's not an open container if it's taped,” you shrugged making sure the cup was secure in the cupholder.

“and they are open on easter sunday,” frankie was looking in both directions as he pulled back onto the highway. more curves and potholes were in your future as frankie progressed down the road.

“people here are going to drink any day they can,” you said nonchalantly, as your gaze fell towards the visor mirror again, sloppily dabbing on a concealer with your index finger. your face was coming together. who knew that even after a flat airplane sprite and the allotted amount of zofran you could still feel like shit but not look half bad?

“probably the reason they can’t drive for shit,” frankie complained as he adjusted the radio scrolling through the stations, most of which were some form of country music. he saw the people speeding ahead of him riding the curves in the road like they were trying to lap each other in a formula one race.

“you say that every time we visit,” you smiled, glancing over at your husband. your head immediately turned back to the window as if you would overlook the sights you had grown up with.

full trees, space between houses, muddy lakes—there was so much beauty to be had even if it was in the smallest things. every gas station and the worn down signs that came with them were advertising live fishing bait and hot food. there were more four-way stops than actual red lights and everyone took the speed limit as a suggestion.

road work ahead signs were as common as a high chance of rain. each town had a minimum of two churches to every three dollar generals, and at least one purple and gold tiger mural.

“and every time we visit i pay extra for the insurance on the rental car for a reason,” frankie pointed out as he stifled a laugh.

frankie had been passed twice while going the speed limit, making him itch just above his ear under his standard oil cap that he wore every day since he had borrowed it from santiago garcia when they had played a round of golf. the cap being part of his everyday wardrobe was unintentional until he noticed he could put less effort into his appearance without looking completely disheveled. the late-night flights caused him to grab the nearest set of clean clothing and head to the airport with an unhealthy amount of caffeine.

then when he would return home he’d toss his cap on the counter and curl into the couch until you were home from the office. the hours he was home were few and far between, though now he had more time on his hands than he would like, having a suspended pilot's license and all.

he could've cleared the screening if they had waited a week. he truly hadn't put anything up his nose for a full five days. he had a good job and completely ruined it because of his addiction. he had made it over the first seventy-two hours and felt invincible, really he felt like shit, but he had made it long enough to prove that he really could be sober. then the damned thursday rolled around, a crew briefing at the airport.

little white cups in bags, attendants following them to the restroom—frankie was shaking in his boots. he was already annoyed from withdrawals, trying to keep his nose occupied by sniffing the inner collar of his shirt where he sprayed your honey perfume. he passed the counter he’d snort on and into the stall he went, almost too nervous to piss. he knew when the cup was sealed he failed.

he tried to talk to his employer before his urine was even tested, but there was no hope. he pleaded and begged and then went to groveling. he couldn't be saved, nor could his license. he had to wait and was currently still waiting, for his hearing from the board to see if his license would be reinstated.

frankie was scraping up any odd jobs. one week at the mechanics, another stocking shelves, then the next construction all while attending narcotics anonymous. he was serious this time. he told you that he wouldn't fuck around anymore. he was going to be sober.

“you look pretty,” frankie reassured you. you were fishing around in your makeup bag as if something was missing. “you're being too hard on yourself. i see you over there looking in the mirror like there's something wrong with how you look.”

your head did a slow turn to your husband. “i’m already stressing,” you confessed, now plucking at the waist of your dress.

you and frankie had gone through your entire wardrobe for this very dress. you didn't want to walk in with the little bump you were sporting, knowing it would cause a lot of unnecessary talk. you both wanted to wait until people were mostly done eating.

“i understand, little girl moved away to be married to some sexy older military man and now she's pregnant,” frankie tried to make light of the situation, earning an annoyed grunt from you as you applied lipgloss. “okay, okay, i’m only joking, but i think they’re going to be excited.”

you rolled your eyes, picking yourself up in your seat to toss your cosmetic bag into the back of the car with the other luggage. “i think some of them will—”

“i love you chica, but your family is crazy. if all of them were happy at once then the world would be ending and the four horsemen of the apocalypse would be storming the earth,” frankie interjected, forcing you to crack a smile as you readjusted in your seat. “i’ll ask you like i have been these past few months, are you excited to be pregnant?”

you took a beat, flipping up the visor to the car and placing your hands protectively on your belly. you felt your heart twinge. your first baby, first pregnancy, and the overwhelming anxiety that went with it. “yes, but i’m so nervous.”

frankie nodded in agreement. his eyes were slightly wide but you couldn't see through his large framed sunglasses. he knew you had every right to be nervous because it was mostly if not all his fault. he relapsed, he got you pregnant, he got sober again, he lost his job, he lost his license, and you never faltered. you were always there for him.

“shouldn't matter what they think then,” he was casual with his tone, trying not to get you any more worked up than you already were before you arrived at your childhood home.

“it’s just hard to hear criticism from them. they always make me feel guilty.”

frankie placed his hand on top of yours, knowing you were picking at your nails without even having to see you do it. he gave it a light squeeze. “this is what’s gonna happen. we’re gonna eat some crawfish and we’re both gonna take a prilosec because you're pregnant and i’m old. i’m gonna drink a beer, you’re gonna sit in my lap, and we’re going to tell them that we’re having a baby. and finally, we are going to survive this week,” frankie directed, raising your hand and pressing it to his lips, his scratchy beard tickling your fingers.

“laissez les bons temps rouler⁽ˡᵉᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ᵗᶦᵐᵉˢ ʳᵒˡˡ⁾,” the sarcasm was evident in your tone, but you couldn't deny that frankie made you feel just a bit better.

“i love when i never know what the hell you're saying.”

pulling into the long driveway made your stomach churn and not from the bout of morning sickness that had passed.

your parents’ home was no different than when you had visited last thanksgiving, and even then it was still the same home you grew up with. it had good bones, had been through enough hurricanes, and never flooded even though it had barely been raised.

the propane boiler was revving, and everyone had to talk louder to hear over the roar of the fire. the yard was full of fold-out tables, taped down with one layer of black contractor bags and newspaper on top of it.

camping chairs were set by the silver boiling pot, and a table that was normally used for filleting fish was going to be used for the countertop. bowls of chunked onions and opened garlic cloves, washed potatoes, and sausage links were waiting their turn to linger in the seasoned water. the bags of frozen corn were cut open with someone’s discarded pocket knife.

your dad and his brother, parrain⁽ᵍᵒᵈᶠᵃᵗʰᵉʳ⁾, were spraying down a large open ice chest, the dirty crawfish trying to come out as they were being soaked. the little red critters were scurrying and clattering around.

the purple crawfish sacks were discarded next to the ice chest. everyone was doing something whether it was inside or outside. they wanted to make your stay welcome because you didn’t come home as often as you probably should have.

the nest was empty. just two years prior your younger brother moved out to attend college, and that left your parents alone, mostly your mother. she had the same steady job working in education while your father left for the oil rig every two weeks.

“easter bunny brought daiquiris,” you announced, walking to the boiling pot, holding up one of the gallons. frankie was behind you, toting what he didn't want you to carry.

“baby girl is home!” your father announced passing the hose to parrain. “oh, frank’s got some too,” he chuckled, walking closer to pull you in and take the gallon from you.

oh, frank, that was only what your dad called your husband because he said frankie sounded much too young for him and francisco wouldn’t work because it was too serious.

“hey daddy,” you affectionately patted his chest, the rest of the family gathering around.

technically you were late, although it wasn’t your fault that your flight was pushed back an hour. everyone else had been diving into shrimp dip and crackers and a cream cheese and hot pepper jelly mixture waiting for your arrival. the daiquiris would more than make up for your tardiness.

all the men were virtually dressed the same, fishing shirts and khaki shorts, your father and his brother looked identical. mimi stumbled over to greet you and frankie, holding frankie’s hand as she took her drink from him.

“frankie, you gained some weight, look at you,” she said, patting his belly. her shaky hands then worked to undo the tape on the top of her cup.

he couldn’t admit that his weight gain may have been due to kicking his coke habit or maybe it was the stress of his lack of work eating him alive knowing the baby would arrive in october.

“my baby likes me chunky, what can i say?” he laughed it off, passing the rest of the daiquiri supplies to parrain.

“that dress looks cute on you,” your mother commented, attempting to pull the hem of it down some as your father released his grasp. although your mother thought the mauve and blue floral dress seemed too short, at least she didn’t say you looked pregnant in it.

“hadn’t worn it in a while, thought a nice little sunny day could bring it out again,” you gave her a loose hug, internally sighing with relief that your poor husband was receiving the bodily comments and not you.

“leave frankie alone, sabine. that boy looks well fed like our girl been makin’ her cookin’ stick to his ribs,” that was mimi’s husband, pawpaw, who hobbled over. he couldn’t walk straight but tried to keep his wife in line. “toodie come give pawpaw a kiss,” he said, holding out his old arms. his hair had greyed, but goodness he still had a full head of it even in his old age.

toodie, that was you at the ripe age of twenty-five you would still be little toodie. and why? because that was just a common nickname. and parrain to you was pistache⁽ᵖᵉᵃⁿᵘᵗ⁾ to mimi because that was her baby. all the affection never seemed to wear off even after the years passed.

after you planted a kiss on pawpaw’s cheek you walked him over to a chair right in front of the boiler. he had to oversee any cooking that went on at a family gathering.

everyone was wrapped in conversation, picking up right where you left off from the last holiday. frankie joined the men, receiving an honorary slap on the back and a beer in hand.

you were across the yard looking at your mother’s garden yipping with the other ladies. they were all talking about the beautiful sunday mass and the outfit that someone would dare wear in the presence of the lord and how the children in the back pew weren’t listening at all. you had to glance back at frankie joking with your younger brother to feel better as the other women were so quick to cast judgment on easter sunday after attending church.

“how’s frankie been?” your tante⁽ᵃᵘⁿᵗ⁾ lissa asked, still inspecting your mother’s spring tulips.

“he's been fine,” you shrugged, taking a sip of sweet tea.

“i thought he wasn't working,” tante lissa probed with a raised brow.

“momma, you weren't supposed to say anything,” you huffed, gripping your solo cup a little harder.

“it slipped out, really, i’m sorry, toodie,” your mother mumbled covering her mouth slightly.

“why isn't frankie workin’?” nana, your maternal grandmother, pipped in swinging her head around.

“dear god,” your muttered while holding your temples.

“you can't say that on easter, now what happened to frankie?” mimi, who was nursing her own personal daiquiri, was now involved.

“he is working,” you groaned, feeling the heat of red embarrassed start creeping up your neck and to your cheeks. “he’s just not a pilot right now,” you mumbled that last part, hoping it would be overlooked.

from what you thought was once a private conversation with your mother was now family gossip. you were lucky enough to never say anything about frankie’s addiction because otherwise that would be sprawled across the table as well.

“and why not? he said he liked it last time he was here,” your aunt coaxed again leaning against the side of the house.

“we’re not talking about this,” you sighed, doing a slow blink while looking towards the tree that was shaking you partially.

“that makes it seem like somethin’ is wrong,” nana’s shrill voice joined again.

“nothing is wrong, holy shit,” you muttered, only to be rescheduled by the sound of the men hauling the crawfish onto the tables and spreading them out.

your father was holding up red and blue plastic trays calling that the feast was ready though no one moved from their spots, still thinking they would be receiving more information from you.

“come on now, beb⁽ᵇᵃᵇᵉ⁾,” your father called out to your mother who had an apologetic look on her face. he was waving his hand trying to summon all the ladies over.

frankie was walking over to gather you for the completed meal. that’s when everyone began moving to the table. they liked to talk shit, not the potential confrontation that would come with it.

the air smelled divine, like home—seasoned, hot, delicious—home. frankie had his arm wrapped around you, knowing your family had already started to bother you because of the smile you lost on your face.

“we’re on the easy part of this game plan—eat crawfish,” he reminded you. his nose gently butted against the top of your head and he left a kiss at the top of your hairline.

frankie wasn't wrong. cracking, slurping, peeling, dipping, and pinching fresh hot crawfish didn't leave much to conversation. people were too involved in good food to realize they weren't speaking. there were only mumbles of ‘ça c’est bon⁽ᵗʰᵃᵗ’ˢ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ⁾.’

you were dabbing your nose with a napkin, your greasy fingers leaving stains behind. the spice level caused a slight burn, but it was enough to be enjoyable even if it meant your nose was melting.

you had to remind frankie of the proper way to eat crawfish, though within a minute he was managing to keep up with your brother cracking the hot shells open.

your eyes fell closed when taking a bite of the fluffy red potatoes, it was enough to hit your stomach and feel fuzzy inside. you could've done without a nosey family chat, but boiled crawfish with the fixings sure did make up for it.

the parkay bottle was being passed around quickly; the butter substitute was lying across every piece of corn on that table.

everyone was grabbing from the pile and loaded onto their trays hungrily. they were all ripping into the thick sausage and various combinations with their assortment: onion-wrapped crawfish meat, garlic-smeared on potatoes, a bite of corn, a bite of shellfish, sausage then a bite of potato. layers of filling, tasty food that would hopefully make everyone have a bright spirit.

the sun was setting, full garbage bags were stuffed into the trash bin outside, and everyone was enjoying another round of cold drinks. even if you hadn't come home to visit, the gathering would've been this long anyway—that was how it was done—a tradition of hospitality and togetherness.

although you and frankie were exhausted from traveling, you both knew you weren’t in town very often, and no one had said anything offensive since you were alone with the other ladies—though no promises would be made for the end of the week

you were sat in frankie’s lap, sharing one rickety old camping chair semi-comfortably. you were enjoying the breeze much like everyone else. all of your hands smelled of lemons, having scrubbed them with fresh juice and pulp to try and remove the fishy scent the shellfish left.

“we ought to head out,” parrain nodded, taking his wife against his side. that southern goodbye would last another fifteen minutes to wrap up conversation. “maringouins⁽ᵐᵒˢᑫᵘᶦᵗᵒˢ⁾ are gonna start bitin’” he added, noticing the porch lights begin to flick on from their automatic timer.

“ah, before you go actually,” you spoke up, clearing your throat. that caused frankie to sit a little straighter in his chair, and slide his beer down to the ground.

“this time next year we’ll need another spot at the table,” your voice was shaky, but frankie’s arm wrapping around your waist made your tense shoulders drop.

“wait—” your mother couldn't formulate her words.

“cher bébé⁽ᵈᵉᵃʳ ᵇᵃᵇʸ⁾.” nana gasped, covering her mouth.

“we’re havin’ a baby,” frankie smiled. his chin rested on your shoulder as he spoke, watching the surprised faces as frankie confirmed what you said.

“how far along are you?” “how do you feel?” “that’s why you didn't want a drink!” “is it a boy or girl?” “no way!” “are you sick?” “frankie, what are you doing you're like forty?” “do you need to lie down?” “when are you due?” “when i was pregnant i was miserable.” “are you moving back home?” “can we touch your belly?” “toodie, girl!”

the questions and comments started rolling in one after another. it sounded like a bunch of squawking birds fighting over the last crumb of a dropped sandwich.

“okay okay, one at a time please,” you laughed, holding up your hands defensively trying to settle everyone. “i’m fine, the traveling has been rough, but i feel okay. as for baby—he is fine too. the doctor said he is very healthy. i’m fifteen weeks along so by october little morales will be here,” you explained trying to pick out the questions you had heard from the clatter of everyone.

gasps of “a boy!” were now being sprinkled as everyone settled again to look at frankie beginning to speak.

“as for me,” frankie rolled his eyes playfully. “i’m thirty-eight and not geriatric, so thank you, lissa, for making it seem like i’ll croak next week,” he teased.

“having ourselves a t-frank⁽ˡᶦᵗᵗˡᵉ ᶠʳᵃⁿᵏ/ᵖᵉᵗᶦᵗᵉ ᶠʳᵃⁿᵏ⁾,” your father laughed, seemed like he had tears brimming at his eyes.

“that’s right,” you beamed.

whether or not you’d be answering questions about frankie’s uncertain employment or the reason he wasn't a pilot anymore later in the week was almost a given occurrence, but right now you were dwelling on this moment, not wanting to forget each face as you announced the big news.

you had a sense of pride washing over you. this was your family you made with frankie. you stayed by his side because you knew no matter what deep shit he pulled himself into that you would be right behind him to pull him out.

it was almost impossible to leave after news like that, so people did what they knew—they set up for dinner.

a large magnalite pot was set outside, oil and the trinity were mingling in the pot making the air fragrant once more. a large pot of rice and gravy with smothered chicken legs would surely make you happy and keep that little boy inside you even happier.

the chicken had been dropped next, only to get a nice brown color on the edges. it would finish cooking later in that rich gravy they were beginning to make.

“toodie, you’re gonna make a good momma,” pawpaw praised, pouring just a bit of stock at the bottom of the pot to deglaze it. your father and uncle were behind him slowly pouring in flour. constant stirring made a beautiful, rich brown color the chicken legs nestled back in. the heavy lid sat crooked on top of the pot. inside the rice was cooking, measured with water to the first knuckle of course.

“thank you,” you were genuine in your response. your eyes softened slightly.

“he's not wrong,” frankie confirmed, bringing over an extra set of plates your father had sent for.

frankie and your father were in the garage. your father’s hands were already dipping into the top of an old pickup truck, fiddling with various hoses and wires, all of which were dirty.

he wanted a moment alone with your husband after a filled day of jabbering with everyone else in the family. he liked frankie more than he wanted to admit; he always just thought he was a good guy.

“so about the baby,” your father wasted no time revealing his true intentions. frankie knew your father wouldn't have dragged him in there if there wasn't a reason. “you scared?” he asked, taking a shop rag that wasn't much cleaner than the assorted parts he was touching.

“terrified,” frankie admitted quietly, leaning over the hood of the truck to look at the parts. he always liked working with his hands.

“you should be scared, and that ain't a threat—it’s just the damn truth,” your father shook his head, reaching on the cart next to him to grab his flashlight. the overhead light didn't seem bright enough for his old eyes. “everybody’s got an opinion on if you're parenting right and then nobody ever wants to step in if you need help, so you just gotta try your best.”

frankie took the flashlight holding it right above where your father needed it. he was quiet, what else could he say?

“you can't be afraid to screw up, frank,” your father mumbled, using the corner of his shop rag to wipe the gunk from the interior of a hose.

“i’ve screwed up enough,” frankie confessed. his shoulders dropped, feeling a bit defeated to admit it. “i wouldn't wish my fuck ups on anybody, wouldn't wish my life on anybody, but i’ll be damned if this little boy gets screwed up.” he paused. the words lingered on his tongue. it was the first time he had ever said anything like that aloud.

your father didn't need to ask about or dwell on frankie’s admission to screwing up. he took his honesty to heart; it was refreshing to know that his son-in-law wasn't full of bull.

your father lifted his head, wiping his hands on his jeans, the front of his magellan shirt also sporting a stain. “that’s the first step in bein’ a good daddy,” your father patted frankie’s back, giving his shoulder a firm squeeze.

“daddy doesn't want to secretly to wring your neck, does he?” you were wrapped in a bath towel, brushing out your hair. your cosmetic bag was laid out across the dress you used your entire childhood, the same dents and scratches were still indented in the wood.

“not yet,” frankie came behind you, placing his hand on your bloated belly. a teasing smirk was present on his face as he breathed in the scent of your shampoo.

“we have a long week ahead of us,” you commented, adjusting the part in your hair.

“it’ll be a good week,” frankie assured you, moving your damp hair to plant a kiss on your neck.

“snowballs tomorrow, no matter what,” you reminded him, still not having gotten your sweet fix that would stain your teeth in an instant. those shitty florida snowcones were not satisfying the spring craving you desired. the soft ice stuffed in the cup, blue bubblegum flavored syrup soaking every ounce of white. that was childhood, the fruity scent from the cold treat that always managed to lighten your mood.

“whatever you say goes, you know that mama.” he smiled into the crook of your neck, his thumbs brushing over the soft cotton bath towel.

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