#USING A WHOLE FUCKING SHOVEL

[chartreuxcatz]

where’s that post about the friends who bought a plot of land together and lived in separate houses on that land? That’s what i need. I need my own house. With friends just a yard away. A small house. Apartment sized. Part of me just wants to build my own. But the point is I like the idea of living with friends but I really need my own space. My own bathroom my own washer my own dryer my own kitchen. It would be easier to let myself have moments of productivity when i can guarantee that no one else is in the house.

[soliddaddy96]

oh im so emo

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Two Three

Robin sucks on her drink through her straw, “why, exactly, are we here?”

Steve sighs into his own drink.

Robin looks around the yard from her perch on a lawn chair, “I can’t help but notice, Steven, that we are very clearly the oldest people here.”

Steve watches Eddie balefully. He’s trying and failing to light the grill. It’s almost embarrassing to watch; Steve can’t seem to look away.

“Steven, I am drinking something that was mixed together in bowl. I’m drinking it out of a red solo cup. I haven’t touched one of these in a decade. I require an explanation.”

“I don’t have one.”

“That is a lie. Your pants will catch fire and then you can use them to help that moron to light the grill.”

They watch for a little longer.

“Fucks sake Steve just go and do it for him. This tastes like paint thinner; I’ll need to eat some bread at some point or I’ll go into kidney failure.”

Steve gets up and lights the grill for Eddie. He’s wearing another butchered tee shirt and some black board shorts. He’s so pale, and all of his bony bits are on show. Elbows. Wrists. Ankles.

His hair is gathered up into a messy bun on top of his head.

He still has a smear of make up on one eyelid where it hasn’t washed off properly.

Steve knows exactly what he sounds like when he comes.

“Thanks man,” Eddie’s blushing. He’s rubbing the back of his neck. It reveals Eddie’s pale ribs. His dark hairy armpit-

Steve runs away before he does something stupid.

“Okay, so, step by step, no gory details please, what exactly happened last night, because I know damn well you didn’t spend the entire forty five minutes I was waiting hanging around in a gross bathroom.”

Steve sighs, rubs his forehead, then goes and gets them both refills.

“Coward,” Robin calls after his retreating back.

He’s refilling their cups with an honest to fucking god soup ladle out of the kitchen – avoiding the fly that has met it’s sticky end in what is, no doubt, highly toxic punch – when it happens.

“Hey man,” Steve is being addressed by an actual pimply teenager.

“Hey.”

“Nice car,” he sounds weirdly angry about it.

“Uhhh...thanks,” because Steve doesn’t know what the fuck else to say to a dude wearing a dungeons and dragons tee shirt over flaming basketball shorts. He has nothing on his feet. Outside. Steve represses a shudder.

“Look, you clearly have money, or whatever, and probably a fancy job and you’re like, forty-”

“Hey-”

“- or whatever, but this thing with Eddie, can you make it fast please? Dragging it out isn’t fair on him.”

Steve blinks. He’s getting a shovel talk from someone who probably doesn’t know what a VHS is.

Steve can remember playing video games with no save; if you were going to do it, you had to play the whole damn thing in one go. Steve didn’t have a mobile phone until he was fifteen. Steve is not going to take this.

“This ‘thing’ I have with Eddie is none of your business. Eddie can speak for himself-”

“No Eddie cannot speak for himself, because Eddie is the nicest guy I know and Eddie already thinks he’s in love. Don’t think I don’t see what this is for you, Eddie’s just another thing to play with until you get bored. Look at this place, look at us. Now look at you and you’re fancy friend over there,” the kid gestures and, yeah, alright, the difference is pretty obvious, “you wouldn’t be caught dead here, slumming it, if you weren't getting something out of it. Now hurry it along, Eddie only writes good stuff when he’s heartbroken. Which is a lot, by the way. We all know how this goes.”

“What’s wrong with your face?”

“I just got a shovel talk from a kid who probably shouldn’t even be drinking yet.”

“Ouch,” Robin takes her drink back, “how does that feel?”

Steve shrugs, “not sure, actually.”

Across the yard, Steve watches as Eddie gesticulates wildly and hisses angrily at the pimply face DnDer. He catches Steve watching. Eddie grabs the kid by the arm and drags him away.

“The burgers are burning,” Robin idly points out.

Steve sighs, he loves this polo, grease stains are a bastard, and the chances of finding an apron in this place are none existent.

At least Robin comes with him. She half unwraps some cheese and generally pretends to busy herself, slicing buns and stacking paper plates.

“So, last night?”

“Right,” Steve sighs through his nose, shuffling some onions around on the flat plate. “So I was just going to you know, get him.”

“Get your man tiger,” Robin purrs.

It shouldn’t be funny, but it kind of is. Steve laughs.

“But he just...grabbed my hand. And he said ‘Steve! Come and meet the guys!’ So I...did.”

“He introduced you to his friends,” Robin raises that lethal eyebrow.

“Yeah.”

“And you went along with it?”

“Well I kind of...he didn’t let go of my hand so I kind of…”

Both of Robins eyebrows are now in the stratosphere. She appears to spend a few minutes digesting that, “and then you got invited to...this.”

Steve’s already dug half a hole, and he still apparently has the shovel in his hand, so he keeps going, “he was just so happy to see me,” Steve admits, quietly.

“Who is that?”

“Who?”

Robin grabs Steve by the hair and forcibly turns his whole head, “that.”

There’s a blonde girl talking to Eddie. She’s wearing a white tank top and daisy dukes, “no idea.”

“Come on, high time you introduced me.”

Steve really tries, but he cant hide the fact that he is delighted by this turn of events, “why, Robin Buckley! Oh how the tables have turned-”

“Shut the fuck up. I’m going to make her cry.”

Part Five

[theemporium]

[1.6k] in which a flower bouquet arrives at your door that certainly wasn't sent by your boyfriend. (based off this request)

series masterlist

.

In your defence, you had nothing to do with the prank. 

It had taken a while for Luke to come around to the idea of you and Quinn being together. He loved you both, wanted nothing more than two of his favourite people in the world to be happy. But it still took some time to get used to the shift in relationships considering almost a year ago the two of you barely spoke. 

But all things considered, he was doing much better than you expected—except for one thing. 

Luke had deemed it necessary that his brother proved himself worthy of dating his best friend. 

You thought he was joking. Quinn thought he was being dramatic. And Jack thought it was the funniest thing he had ever heard, meaning he totally enabled his younger brother into taking the whole thing seriously. 

You had expected Luke to give his oldest brother a shovel talk. Maybe threaten him a little. Maybe even whine about it a little longer, because honestly he got over that phase a lot quicker than you expected. 

You hadn’t expected a series of trials to be set up for your boyfriend.

It started off with random questions thrown at Quinn at the most unsuspecting times, ways for Luke to see if his older brother really knew you. He asked about your favourite colour, your favourite snacks, what you liked when you were sad and so many more simple questions that had Quinn rolling his eyes as he answered. 

Then, it escalated to throwing random scenarios. Like what Quinn would do if you were stranded and he was halfway across the country. Or what Quinn would do if you had been abducted by aliens and returned with no memory of him. Or what Quinn would do if you decided to become a diehard Leafs fan.

It was annoying for Quinn, but ultimately it was harmless. 

You hadn’t realised there was another test. You hadn’t realised you inspired it when you were on the phone with Luke a couple of weeks ago. 

It became a staple in your relationship for Quinn to send you a bouquet of flowers. It was his little way of showing he cared, of showing that distance wasn’t going to get in between him showing his love for you. It was sweet and it made your heart swoon and he fucking adored the way you always called him as soon as they arrived, sharing your reaction to his chosen bouquet each time.

So, in all honesty, it was no shock to you when a bouquet had been delivered to your door that morning. You hadn’t bothered to look for a note because you knew who it was from, you knew that Quinn would probably walk out of your room and see the flowers and throw some stupid, cheesy line at you that had your body flushing. 

“What the fuck?”

It never occurred to you that Quinn was never the one who sent them. 

He stumbled out of your room around thirty minutes after you initially woke up, his eyes still tired and bleary from sleep. He was dragging his feet along the floor as he walked, a pair of sweatpants halfheartedly thrown on as he went off to find you and try to drag you back to bed. After all, it wasn’t often he got the chance to visit you during the season. Spending that limited time together in bed sounded ideal to him. 

However, his body was wide fucking awake the second he walked into the kitchen and saw an unfamiliar bouquet of flowers sat on the counter.

You turned to look at him, your smile waning a little when you noticed his pissed off expression. “Jesus, I know you’re bad before coffee in the mornings but I’ve never seen you this grumpy.” 

Quinn ignored the jab, nodding towards the flowers. “Who sent you those?” 

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “What? You did?”

Quinn frowned as he turned to look at you. “No, I didn’t. I chose tulips. Those aren’t tulips.” 

You shot him a blank look, very well aware the huge bouquet of red roses were not tulips. 

“Maybe you forgot what you chose,” you told him with a shrug, taking a step towards him so you could wind your arms around his waist. You felt him lean into the embrace, wrapping one arm around you as the other reached towards the flowers. “You can’t remember what you’ve chosen every single time.”

“I do,” Quinn said bluntly like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Of course he remembered which flowers he sent you. The boy spent more time than he cared to admit choosing a bouquet, trying to imagine which ones you’d like the most. 

“Oh,” you murmured, but there was a cheesy grin making its way on your face as you placed a quick peck to his collarbone. “Petey was right, you’re such a sap.”

“I still don’t know how I feel about this newfound friendship between you and Petey,” Quinn grumbled when he noticed a note tucked between the stems of the flowers. He reached for it, a frown on his face as his eyes glanced over the note. “Who’s George?” 

You blinked, pulling your head back. “I don’t know a George.” 

Quinn’s expression darkened. “Well, some creep called George knows you and is now sending you flowers.” 

“What?” You grumbled as you reached for the note.

pretty flowers for a pretty girl  –george xx

You blinked. “What the fuck?”

Quinn’s eyes narrowed at the bouquet of flowers, his arm tightening around you like he was proving a point. “They are a terrible set of roses anyways. Red is so tacky. What the fuck does George think it is, Valentine’s Day? He has shitty taste.” 

“I—” You turned to your boyfriend. “Some random guy has my address and is sending me shit, and your priority is his taste in bouquets?” 

“I’m just saying,” Quinn grumbled with a shrug of his shoulders. “He isn’t gonna win you over with some measly roses.” 

You shook your head in response. “Babe, you are—” 

RING! RING! RING!

The two of you froze for a short moment, glancing at each other as your phone’s ringing continued to echo through your small kitchen. There was a moment of hesitation before Quinn reached for it, shoulders tensed like he was expecting to see some unknown number on your screen.

His body visibly relaxed when he saw it was a facetime call from Luke.

He handed you the phone, settling in behind you with his arms still wound around you like he was unwilling to let go of you anytime soon. He hooked his chin on your shoulder, leaning his head against yours as you answered the call.

“Oh. Ew.” 

You rolled your eyes but smiled fondly at your best friend. “Is there a reason you’re calling me before ten? I’m surprised you’re even awake right now.”

“Just wanted to check in,” Luke said, his eyes narrowed like he was analysing something. “Hm. You look quite calm there, Quinn.”

Quinn startled a little, lifting his head. “Did you expect me not to be calm when you called?” 

“I was hoping you’d be in some caveman-ish jealous fit of rage. I had the boys on standby to make sure you didn’t tear the college down.” 

You blinked in confusion. 

“Are you George?” Quinn asked, frowning at his youngest brother’s grinning face.

“No, Quinn, my name is Luke.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You’re a little shit.” 

“What the hell, Luke?” You asked, sighing deeply at whatever your best friend was about to say. You already knew whatever the reason was—most likely encouraged by Jack, again—was going to be too much for your brain to handle this early in the morning. 

“What? I told you I was testing him!” Luke said, like it was the only defence he needed. “The note was hidden in the flowers to make sure he would go looking for it! I wanted to make sure he was putting in the effort with you, if he actually cared about the weird flower thing or if he would just pretend like it was fine.” 

You blinked. “You’re insane,” you said eventually, pausing for a short moment before you continued. “And it’s not a weird flower thing.” 

“I’m going to kill you when I next see you,” Quinn said, glaring at his little brother who looked far too smug for his own good. “And I’m going to shove these roses so far—”

“Talk to you later, bye!” 

You sighed, shaking your head as you let out a breathless laugh. You turned your head, finding Quinn still frowning and glowering, and gently turned his face so you could kiss him. “He’ll get tired of these tests eventually.” 

“Will he though?” Quinn muttered against your lips, his nose brushing against yours. “I swear his next test will be to tattoo your name across my forehead.”

You snorted. “If you do that, I’m breaking up with you.”

“That’s rude,” he mused and, for the first time since he woke up, a hint of a smile was tugging on his lips. “What if I do it on my own accord? Maybe I just want to prove my love for you, baby.”

“I like your pretty face. I’d rather not be staring at my own name whenever I look at it,” you retorted, watching as a full smile spread across his face as he leaned down to kiss you again. 

“Cute,” he murmured before he pulled back completely, a determined glint in his eyes that you knew well. “C’mon, get ready.” 

Your brows furrowed. “What? Where are we going?”

“To burn those flowers and then grab breakfast,” he answered simply.

“Quinn—”

“I refuse to look at them any longer, babe, they are atrocious.”

“You’re so dramatic.” 

“It’s a Hughes thing.”

.

[mordax101]

Andrew and Neil’s relationship will always be impactful to me because it’s about independence existing with love rather than in defiance of it. “I’m not your answer and you sure as fuck aren’t mine,” isn’t a throwaway sentence; it’s not Andrew trying to deny the thing growing between him and Neil. It’s saying the pure and simple truth: love isn’t going to fix everything. Love isn’t going to heal Neil or Andrew; infatuation isn’t going to last an eternity; this interest isn’t going to be a life purpose.

Both Andrew and Neil see it. Instead of pretending they can be enough for each other, they both work to help the other stand alone. Andrew helps Neil stand his ground and stop running. Neil helps Andrew accept his brother and the importance of other people. They help each other find answers that aren’t just themselves. (Although I would argue Andrew had this intention while Neil more or less saw himself as insufficient -- 'nothing' -- and therefore not enough to depend upon; but that's a whole other thing for a whole other post)

I think Andrew has a much deeper understanding of trauma responses and recovery than he lets on (he had so many sessions with Bee). He sees the signs of Neil growing dependent on him. He knows Neil is prone to dependency after his mother; he knows he himself is prone to controlling people and situations. They are the perfect recipe for toxic reliance. Knowing this, he tries to push Neil away. When he figures out he can’t, he tries to change the trajectory their past and their trauma has them set on. Everyone emphasizes how much Andrew focuses on not becoming his past via his ‘yes or no’, but he also focuses heavily on letting his family stand alone. In more ways than one, Andrew actively aspires to be better.

There’s a quote from a book I read recently (Notes of a Crocodile by Qiu Miaojin): “Only healthy people are capable of being in love. Using love to treat an illness just makes the illness worse.” So many stories romanticize love bringing people back from the dark. Andrew and Neil don’t drag each other out of dug graves. Instead, they hand each other a shovel and start digging themselves.

It's been on my mind; how Nora Sakavic masterfully concocted an outline of characters with a disaster waiting at the end of every road and told us a story about how people can take control of their lives and redirect themselves to something healthy and beautiful. I'm excited for TSC :)

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

TGCF couples at the beach

Because i want to go to the beach so bad rn

HuaLian:

Hua Cheng isnt too fond of the sun or the water but gege said he'd like to go so they're going.

Everything is fancy and luxurious, only the best for gege.

A large beach bed with a canopy, drinks and snacks served at all times, the whole nine yards.

He wears those fancy sunscreen lotions with foreign names cause he may be dead but he also burns easily and turns into a big baby about it.

Xie Lian insists they dont need to do all that and can just chill in the sand with a towel, which Hua Cheng finds preposterous.

They have a big ass umbrella over the canopy bed too cause the sun is a deadly laser.

So much affection - cuddling, kissing, being all sweet and lovey, feeding each other watermelon and gathering seashells

Theyre sickeningly sweet

Hua Cheng is able to keep his hands to himself for about 5 seconds max

If there are any noisy kids or families around, Hua Cheng sends Yin Yu to scare them off

(They take Yin Yu with for this express purpise but hey free all inclusive vacation, a win is a win)

Xie Lian never burns ever and refuses to wear sunscreen. Hua Cheng pouts about it because 1) dont want gege to get a sunburn and 2) cant teasingly rub lotion over him smh

Hua Cheng builds one of those fancy sand statues of Xie Lian and he thinks its the most romantic thing ever

It is

So many kisses in the water and swimming together all lovey

Hua Cheng is never seen not drinking a margarita

"You do not need to keep your swim trunks that low, San Lang." "Gege, tan lines are terrible."

BeefLeaf

SQX cant get He Xuan out of the water once they arrive to the beach. Nope. That is his habitat now. He belongs to the fishes.

SQX rents out beach chairs by the bar because how can one tan without a drink in hand?

Skimpy swimsuits because SQX also abides by the tan lines are the devil mentality

Manages to get He Xuan out of the water with the promise of ice cream

Talking shit about everyone around while eating ice cream and drinking martinis

So many seashells. He Xuan gives them to SQX as an offering aw

"XuanXuan you cant drown people that say indecent things about me!" "Who says" "the law??"

He Xuan brings SQX little fish he catches if they look colorful or pretty

"XuanXuan, put some tanning oil on my back!" And He Xuan spends like 10 mins trying to find the correct bottle because SQX brought like 50 and the tanning oil SQX wants looks like literally every other bottle there

So many selfies

He Xuan digs tunnels in the sand whenever he isnt in the water. SQX has to talk him into not using the Earth Master shovel

Theyre checking out hot people together

He Xuan puts on sunglasses to pretend he isnt staring at SQX

"XuanXuan you cant throw jellyfish at children!!"

SQX flirts their way into free drinks and He Xuan broods about it but also he is deeply in debt so he can't turn down free shit lmao

FengQing

Arguing, so much arguing, but hey thats their love language

"Thats a shit spot for a towel" "okay find a better one then" "here!" "Thats like a foot away whats the difference??"

Feng Xin refuses to put on sunscreen cause he thinks its not manly

"You cant beat the fucking sun, Feng Xin!"

Mu Qing refuses to get his hair wet. Feng Xin makes it a point to dunk him in the water at least once

Feng Xin falls asleep in the sun like an old man and Mu Qing draws dicks on him with sunscreen lmfao

They argue about who goes to get drinks and snacks and just end up going together

Feng Xin insists to exclusively drink beer until he tries one of Mu Qing's deadly cocktail combinations and hes hooked. He insists they add a little umbrella to his drink now so he and Mu Qing match

Sand castles competition turned chasing into the waves turned underwater kisses

Mu Qing judges everyone and Feng Xin cant help adding in to the commentary because its surprisingly entertaining

Beach sports! Theyre so competitive too so its extra fun and they make bets over everything

[gravobs]

DUDE! What happened to your perfect hot rock-hard bod?!? *pats your gut* You're fucking fat. Look at all this flab on your stomach. Your six-pack is gone. Have you been spending the last few months porking out on McDonald's and fast food? You had a sexy, firm set of abs. Now you are a growing fatboy who clearly can't control his huge appetite! I bet you spend every night, shirtless in front of the freezer, shoveling ice cream in your fat face and drinking the rest of the whole carton. *grabs your lovehandles and jiggles* You MUST have packed on 20-25 pounds at least, tubby. Time to skip all the donuts and cakes and get back to gym. Some of us like to keep our muscled, hot bodies. Unlike you, you're a fucking fatboy now, hahaha.

Is it messed up that comments like this make me want to eat? 😳

[queers-gambit]

Now and at the Hour of His Death

prompt: any who say, "it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all," were never loved by him.

pairing: Osferth x female!pregnant!wife!reader

fandom: The Last Kingdom

word count: 6.1k+

note: fuck you, Netflix.

warnings: you already know - author needs therapy, projects hard, pregnant wife, Lord’s name in vain, Christianity (obviously), and a fuck ton of fucking ANGST because fuck your feelings. hurt NO comfort, drama, oneshot, cursing, canon-typical violence, injury, and blood. character death and spoilers - yeah, i'm giving you THAT scene. requires maturity and caution. good luck.

also please note: NO, i do not age Osferth to be 16 - that's just a reference age for when he eventually runs away from the monastery.

again, you are missing nothing if this upsets or triggers you and you choose to skip. value your wellbeing, my angels. author is not responsible for the media YOU choose consume, but still, as usual, MDNI

"You should not be doing this sort of work," Ingrith's voice scolded you, and when you turned, you saw the blonde woman standing with her hip cocked and a stern expression. "It's bad for your health to be in such filth, we've stable boys for this sort of chore."

"I do not mind," you sniffled in the brisk air, shoveling the horse shit of the stable into a muck bucket to be dumped into the fields later. "It keeps me busy," you grunted lightly, sure to bend your knees when lifting the pitchfork, "keeps me humble," you listed, dumping the waste to grin at your friend, "and keeps me young."

"In what way?"

"Reminds me of my childhood," you eased, continuing your work. "I slept in a stable from the ages of 4 to... Oh, shit, I guess I was about 16 before I left The Loft."

"What?" She breathed in confusion. "Never knew that."

"Yeah, yeah, true story," you beamed at her, still shoveling shit. "I slept in the stalls with the horses, sometimes in the grain rooms - basically anywhere I could since my work didn't include official room and board, so, I had to make do with what was available. Then, one day when I was about ten, Old Man Rivers said I could use the hay loft if I cleared it out, fixed the rotten planks. Stayed up there till I was about 16, and after that, I kinda ran away."

"Old Man Rivers?"

You nodded, "My mother lived on his homestead, but she was real sick, you see. So, he kinda took me in without assuming responsibility for me," you cleared your throat, shrugging, "let me stay in his barn if I worked with the horses and livestock for him."

"Why would you want to be reminded of that?"

"Seems simpler when I look back."

Ingrith sighed, "C'mon, put the pitchfork down. Come help me prepare the rabbits. The scouts say the men aren't too far off, they'll want a hot meal."

You chuckled with ease and set your pitchfork aside, giving a hearty pat to one of the horse's necks as you passed by to exit the stable. Ingrith made sure you washed up before you were both mounting rabbits on the rack to start skinning them.

"Could I ask something?" She wondered after a time.

"Anything you'd like."

"Why'd you run away? From Old Man Rivers?"

You laughed, "I was in love."

"Oh, you and Baby Monk go that far back, huh?"

"Try even farther," you teased. "Our mothers were friends, and when I worked in the stable, he was in the monastery, but when he came to me, saying he couldn't do it any longer, I couldn't let him go alone. Life was supposed to offer more than what we were given, so, we set out to find the legendary barbarian, The Dane Slayer," you teased, both giggling, "our Lord, the legendary, Uhtred of Bebbanburg."

"And all this time...?" She smiled, watching you shuck hide like you've done it your whole life. Ingrith inferred you probably did.

"Yeah," you eased, "all this time, he's been by my side. Kept me close, never left me behind. The others weren't too sure about me on account of being a woman, they told us to piss off a few times - but they came around after Osferth refused to send me away."

"He's a good lad, Osferth," she nodded.

"Arguably one of the best ones," you agreed, nudging her arm gently, "but look who I'm telling, right?"

"Oh!" She giggled, swatting at you loosely before going back to your work for a moment. Suddenly, the townspeople of Rumcofa stirred to life, and over the voices, you heard them announcing their Lord's return - which meant all of your men were home. You both grinned and breathlessly left your post, Ingrith pausing a young lad to ask, "How many return to us?"

"Does it matter? Come, c'mon, let us see ourselves!" You all but squealed, overwhelmed with excitment; eager for your own reunion with the man you've loved since you were a young lass.

"Warn the alehouse!" Finan was heard shouting. "Osferth's thirsty!"

"Jesus," you laughed, dodging around the procession of people waiting to greet their warriors on their return home so you could approach the white gelding your husband rode.

His face was absolutely priceless when he caught sight of you. As Osferth eagerly dismounted, your hands smoothed over the small swell of your belly - purposefully wearing a dress that accentuated your ever-changing figure. "Am I dreaming?" He laughed, a stablehand taking hold of his horse so his hands were free to caress your belly. "Oh, my God, I'm not, 's real, oh, God," he beamed, laughing with you. "You're pregnant? Truly? Yes? I-I am not - I am not being deceived?"

"No, my love, I guess our prayers were finally heard."

"OH-HOOOO!" You heard Finan holler as Osferth finally pulled you in for a sweet kiss; both ignoring the Irishman. "Lord! LORD! Uhtred! Hey! Did you hear!? Baby Monk's got some spunk in 'im afta all!"

"Oh, God," you laughed against Osferth's lips, but he was quick to shush you with another breath-stealing kiss.

"A baby Baby Monk! AHA!" Finan was still laughing, your husband's hands caressing both your cheeks when he pulled back just in time for Finan to descend. You grunted lightly when his heavy arms dropped over both yours and Osferth's shoulders, his laugh still booming as he gave a squeeze and cooed, "Oh, congratulations, yah two love birds! Wasn't sure you had it innyah, boy!"

"Don't be so rough with her, Finan, for God's sake," Osferth scolded, nudging his friend to get out from under his arm.

"What?" Finan looked at you gobsmacked. "Sayin' I gotta treat yah different now or somethin'?"

"I didn't say that," you told him prettily with fluttering lashes, fist quickly balling up to jab him in the weak spot of his armor - making him grunt and wheeze. "Aht-aht!" You warned with a pointed finger when he flinched as if to retaliate, "Can't hit a pregnant woman."

"Oh, yeh li'l shite," Finan laughed, Osferth pushing him towards his wife so he could stand in front of you and command all attention.

Osferth took a moment to simply look at you; thumbs gently tracing over your cheeks in sweeping motions, a slow grin breaking across his lips. "This almost doesn't feel real... But how I have to praise God for this blessing. A baby," he breathed.

"A little you and me," you agreed softly. "Sound okay to you?"

"More than okay," he chuckled, pecking your lips, "sounds like a lifetime together."

"Good by me." His nose nuzzled up yours, the sweet moment broken when he sighed sadly; eyes shut and smile dropping. "What is it? What's wrong, love?" You asked, stepping into his embrace so you were nuzzled into his neck and his arms were wrapped around your form in a vice.

"Uhtred means to move us again," he whispered in your ear. "Brida, she... She's got Father Pyrlig, and - "

"What!?" You snapped, rearing back slightly to pin him under your hardened glare. Pregnancy hormones would surely give Osferth whiplash.

"My love, I did not - "

"Brida's got Pyrlig? Fuck are we standin' here for, let's go!" You reached for his hand, ready to march off.

"Uh, no, no, no, no," he pulled you back to him; anchoring his hands on your hips so you could not escape. "You are not going anywhere. Not now - especially now," he glanced at your still-growing bump. "The men will go, you know we will return, but you have this new responsibility, and that's keeping this little one safe. For us," he smiled at you.

You huffed, "I'm not unfit to do what needs done, Osferth."

"I did not say you were unfit, but look at the timing of it," he frowned. "I should've been here when you learned, but I was not, and I am truly so sorry for it. Look, I do not know how long this venture will be, but you know I will return. We've waited for our family for far too long, I will not jeopardize this - so I will return. If you go with us, and something were to happen," he shook his head, "my angel, I would never forgive myself. So I need you to stay here, stay safe, if for nothing else but for me."

"But Pyrlig - "

"Will be saved," he assured.

"And Brida - "

"Will be dealt with," he eased, chuckling lightly. "My angel, you worry too much about everyone and yet never about yourself."

You pouted, "Well, why is it just me meant to stay back? This is your child, too, Osferth, and should have the right to meet them! You can't always control what happens, accidents are real, what if you don't return - "

"Don't think like that - "

"But it's a real threat to us - "

He agreed, "Of course, but - "

"Yeah, I know," you nodded, cutting him off, "we serve Lord Uhtred. This comes first, and I'm not - "

"I've made a vow to him."

"You made one to me, too, you know."

"Angel, please, don't do this. Do not ask me to choose," he begged with a frown, and you caved.

So, with a sigh, you nuzzled into his embrace and relented, "All right, yes, fine, go after Brida and Pyrlig. And when you find them, tell him I am waiting for his safe return, he is dearly missed. Ideally, I'd have him birth our child."

"Of course," he breathed, finding a small reprieve of relief that you did not fight him further about leaving - about choosing which vow to fulfill: the one to his Lord Uhtred or the one to his wife.

Both made to God.

Luckily, Osferth married his best friend and you were never one to pick fights with him. You liked the harmony you had; the peaceful environment you had both cultivated to preserve the trust and love you built through the years. He was genuinely one of a kind; a man who walked many lines between faith, humanity, right, wrong. He was the voice of reason, constantly striving to do better than he did before, learning all he could as if a rag soaking in water. For all he was, Osferth has always been enough for you, and for that reason alone, you never felt the need to argue.

To fight. To voice contempt.

"Question," you perked up, smirking at him as your pregnancy symptoms ran a little wild, "think we've time to, you know, really give our thanks?"

"Angel - "

"What?" You grinned. "You fucked me on the alter all those weeks ago and look - your seed stuck. We might as well go give thanks in the same manner, just to really show God how thankful we are for this blessing he's given us."

"Think the Devil's gotten into you," he laughed.

"Or your child is ruining my hormones," you countered, his lips meeting yours in another passionate display of his excitement.

"C'mon," he whispered, taking your hand, and leading you to the chapel - thinking you were being sneaky, but your matching giggles made Ingrith and Finan beam at each other.

"He does know she can't get more pregnant, right?" Finan teased, flinching when Ingrith smacked his upper arm.

"WHY!?"

"My angel, please - "

"What the fuck is going on, Osferth!?"

"I'm trying to explain - "

"The Queen? The fucking Queen is dead in our village! How can that possibly be explained!?" When Osferth didn't answer, just sat in the wooden chair before the shared hearth of your humble home, you snapped, "Well!?"

"Are you finished? May I speak now?"

With a huff, you nodded and gestured for him to speak; arms crossing around your swollen tits. He explained to you the reason for Haesten's arrival, the wagon his men toted, and why he brought the Queen's dead body to the settlement of Rumcofa. He told you Haesten wanted to keep the peace when King Edward found out, claiming Uhtred's son-in-law, Stiorra's husband, Sigtryggr, had ordered this death - thinking war would surely roll over his lands.

You never knew Haesten to be a generous man, nor much of an honest one, but it seemed the severity of the situation made everyone eerily on-edge. Uhtred dispatched his men; leaving Finan and Osferth in the village with you, developing a plan that would save both Saxon and Danish life. And yet, it was all futile when evil forces worked against good.

You didn't feel safe in Rumcofa anymore, there was a stench in the air; tension that mounted to embrace all residents with discomfort. Something was about to happen, but nobody knew what. You didn't claim or pretend to know what was happening, but Haesten's abrupt appearance spelled danger for everyone involved. So, as a security measure, you kept a long sword buckled around your swelling waist and a dagger strapped under your skirts. With Lord Uhtred gone, there was no invisible fence protecting Rumcofa - leaving it up to you, Osferth, Finan, and Cynleaf to pose as guard.

Yet you'd never be enough.

Like the surf over sand, a group of angered men descended on Rumcofa. "Who's men are yah?" Finan asked, you lingering at Osferth's side to watch the interaction from a short distance.

"We come from the King," a burly Saxon replied, your head cocking in interest - swearing you've seen him before. "Dane murderers are hiding here and you must hand them over."

"You're mistaken, sir," you kindly offered, the man's eyes shifting over you, "because we live in peace. Any murderers have surely moved on from here. We do not host them."

The man growled, "Don't think that's true, love."

Finan held a hand back at you, meeting your eyes and nodding simply. He turned back for the man in fur, diverting, "Of course, my men will attend to it."

Finan turned from the group, his eyes connecting with yours as he passed by. There was urgency, a quickened pace he adopted; having no intention to hand anyone over, wanting to remove these men without bloodshed. However, that was a distant thought because Father Benedict tried to assure the Saxon leader that nobody in Rumcofa would murder Queen Aelflaed.

You wanted to step in when the Saxon evidently didn't know about the Queen's demise - getting in Benedict's face and demanding to see what he spoke of.

"No, no, no," you muttered nervously, "he can't see the body, love, no, no, no, this is bad. Very bad."

"We can't stop Father Benedict without altercation," Osferth whispered back, keeping a tight hold of your hand, just watching the group. "If something happens, you need to get yourself safe."

"How do we truly know they're from Edward? What credentials do they have?" When Osferth shook his head, you worried, "Got a bad feeling 'bout this, angel."

Then the violence began.

The strange men took charge when their leader walked away, starting to physically harass the citizens; making both you and Osferth step in to try and diffuse the tension. You pushed men off unarmed women, got in between them and the children, did what you could without drawing a weapon.

When a man shoved you away from him, Finan wrangled him away, sneering, "Get yer hands off of her!" He kept the violent men at bay for a moment, telling you, "You need to go, darling - "

"Not now, Fin, look around us! We need to contain the situation, you'll need all hands you can get," You snapped, the two of you forced to part way.

Osferth panted nervously and looked left and right, turning to meet the Saxon and demand, "Tell your men to stand down!" But then, his eyes squinted when you joined his side to pull him back a step or two, recognizing him just as you did.

"I don't think they're here for the Queen, love," you heaved for breath in warning, still backing him up. "They've planned this."

"Finan!" Osferth barked, "These men have been here before!"

The Saxon roared over the fray, "Danes of Rumcofa have murdered our Queen!" His men jeered in anger, making Finan brandish both swords and for Osferth to push you back further from the attention. "Do your duty and rid the cockles from the wheat!"

You were left no choice. Osferth and you both armed yourselves, starting to fight off the Saxons as their leader demanded Danes and Christians be separated. You were unable to help, engaged in battle, but Young Uhtred gathered the Danes and begged Father Benedict to declare the church a sanctuary - thinking it would save lives.

It was only leading the Danes to slaughter.

The Saxon, Bresal, punched Father Benedict when he tried to stand in the way; his men holding Young Uhtred in the doorway to let their men enter the church the Danes were gathered in. They forced Young Uhtred to watch the massacre - men, women, and Danish children all slaughtered with no escape. No hope. No answer to a single prayer. Nobody to stop this bloody situation.

You fought on, Osferth, Finan, and Cynleaf doing their best to protect you by keeping you in the middle of their wee group. But you still got plenty of action.

"This is madness!" You cried out, slicing a man's throat open. "We need aid! We need more men!"

"This way!" Finan encouraged, "We must cut a path for Ingrith! Check the docks! Check the docks!"

You and Osferth ran towards the water, Cynleaf not far away. You searched for Ingrith, but you had no time to linger; engaged one-on-one again, forced to protect yourself and unborn baby. Not a minute later, you saw Ingrith on horseback, being stalled by a Saxon and for your husband to rush to her aid. He punched the man away from the horse, you hacking at another enemy, in time to see Osferth engaging with two Saxons - one being the leader, Bresal.

It all happened so fast.

You were already racing towards them when the unexpected. Osferth was battling on two fronts, holding Bresal at bay, fending off the other Saxon, screaming for Ingrith, who only managed a few paces before the Saxon's dogs spooked her horse. The noise was deafening; people screaming, crying, dogs barking, horses whinnying, swords singing as they clashed.

You watched it happen in slow motion.

You sprinted faster than ever before.

"INGRITH!" Osferth bellowed in worry when her horse reared back and dropped her to the dirt. It left an opening for Bresal to stab his dagger into Osferth's lung - freezing time and wrecking your world.

"NO!" You screamed, Bresal smirking at you and yanking his dagger free. Osferth wobbled, eyes wide as he met yours, the Saxon walking away as Osferth dropped to his knees. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no! Oh, God, no, no, you can't take him - not yet! Please, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no," You repeated, sliding on your knees in the dirt to catch him. "No, no, oh, my God, no, Osferth, no, please! Not now, not now, please, no, God, no! Don't do this! Please, please, please," you rambled, readjusting to better hold him, hearing Cynleaf and Finan yell for Baby Monk, too. You raged at God, "You can't take him yet! You can't have him! He's mine!"

But you heard nothing except your husband's labored breathing.

"An-Angel, angel, my angel," Osferth choked, wheezing and crying as he couldn't hold himself up and completely slumped back into your body. He pawed at your arms in an attempt to get closer.

"No, no, no, you're all right, you're okay, you're okay, my sweet love, you're all right," you insisted, hands stained in his blood as it poured from his wound. You knew it was essential to add pressure to a wound, but also, that this was all futile. Yet you needed to try. "Hey, hey, hey, look at me, just look at me, sweetheart, please, only look at me, nothing else matters," you pleaded with him in a rush, the lads sprinting to where you held your husband to your lap.

Nobody interrupted you.

"Where's the wound?" Osferth sobbed, trembling, blood spurting from his mouth; going paler by the minute. "Angel, please, the wound? Where's the wound?"

"No, no, no, don't worry 'bout that, hey? Don't you worry, you just keep looking at me," you sobbed, holding his neck and cradling him to your swollen belly. "Just at me, my love, okay? Just look at me - don't look anywhere else, okay? Nothing else matters."

"H-How bad? How ba-ba-bad-bad is i-it?"

"You're going to be all right," you lied to Osferth for the first time.

"Oh, my God, oh, my God," Osferth repeated through his tears and fears, "I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die."

He held onto you desperately, sobbing, you slowly rocking. "No, you're all right, Osferth, it's okay, just look at me." You caressed his cheek, smearing blood, but locking eyes. "My love," you whispered, "listen to me - "

"I don't wanna die, please, please, angel, my love, please," he coughed, holding your arm tightly as if it would give him life. "Don't let me die," he wheezed, "don't let me die, my love, please, please. Don't let me die, I don't wanna die. I-I wanna meet our baby, please, I want to meet our baby, I want to be a father. Don't let me die, love, please, I-I wanna be your husband longer - "

"You'll never not be my husband and you'll never not be a father, hear me?" You sniffled, trying to smile at him. "Don't you worry, you're gonna be okay, you're okay, Osferth. You'll always be my husband, nothing will change that - I swear."

Blood pumped with each beat of his frantic heart, making it gush over your fingers. You didn't even feel it.

"Please," he choked, more blood bubbling from his lips, "don't let me die, I don't wanna die. Don't let me die, please, not now, not when our baby isn't here yet, please, I just wanna meet 'em, be a family, I wanna stay with you, don't let me go. Please, don't let me go, I don't want t'go! Don't let me - "

"Shh, it's okay, you're okay. I'm here with you. I'm right here, Osferth, you're not alone, you're never alone. I'm here. I've got you. I'll always have you, I won't ever let you go. Never."

He sobbed harder. "I don't wanna leave you. Please, I don't wanna go, I don't wanna be without you - " But the words choked him, a splatter spraying across your face when he coughed; you didn't even flinch.

"Listen to me," you begged, "I commend you, my dear, sweet husband, to Almighty God, and entrust you to your Creator."

Finan was heard behind you, retching jarring sobs as you read Osferth his death rite prayer. "Don't let me die," Osferth begged still, as if you held that power.

He had always looked at you as if you hung the sun and stars, and now, as if you were his very reason for living. You hated God in that moment for forcing you two through this.

"May you return to Him who formed you from the dust of the earth. May Holy Mary, the angels," now, you choked on your words, emotion clawing your throat, but still continued, "and all the saints come to meet you as you go forth from this life. May Christ who was crucified for you bring you freedom and peace." You sobbed, "May Christ who died for you admit you into His garden of paradise. May Christ, the true Shepherd, acknowledge you as one of His flock. May He forgive all your sins, and set you among those He has chosen. Amen. Please, please, say amen, Osferth, say it, please!"

"A-Amen - Amen!" He coughed, trying to get closer to you, nestling into your warmth as he felt impossibly cold. "Don't leave me, don't leave me, please, please, I don't wanna go, I don't wanna be alone. I can't go without you, please, don't let me go - don't let me die, angel, please, I can't go without you. I-I’ve never been without you my whole life, I don’t wish to start now. I love you. I-I love you, please, don't let me go, I love you. I need you."

"You'll never be without me," you promised, face coated in blood, grime, dirt, and ash; all streaked with your tear tracks. "You will always be my husband, hey? Hear me? You're always gonna be with me, I will never be apart from you. I'll love you forever, Osferth, I won't ever stop." You felt your chest cave in as you sobbed, "Please, don't you leave me - "

But Osferth was wheezing and panting, only staring up at you. "I only need you," he whimpered, "I've only ever needed you, I can't do this without you. Please, I can't - I can't go without you. I don't want to leave you, I can't leave you, please!'

"So don't leave me," you sobbed, him still clawing at you in desperation. "I love you more than life, Osferth, please, don't leave me, okay? Don't go. I love you so much. Being loved by you was my greatest pleasure in this life, I want our child to know your love, too, Osferth, please, don't go."

"I-I wanna meet our baby, I wanna hold 'em, love 'em," he repeated. "Please, this can't be the end, don't let this be the end. W-We have so much more - we were supposed to have eternity together, my love, my angel, please! This isn't the end, I can't - I can't go without you!"

"You're okay," you soothed uselessly, rocking more prominently. "Just stay with me, my love, okay? Stay with me. Don't go. Only look at me, all right? You hear me?" You sniffled, caressing his cheek. "You're the best thing in my life, Osferth, yeah? Understand me? Where you're going, y-you'll be welcomed a hero, with open arms. You'll be my own angel. My real angel. The reason I keep going for our child. An-And you'll stay there just for a little while until I join you, okay? You'll watch over us, me and the baby, right? Our own angel? Hey? 'Cause you'll never be part from us - you'll never be apart from me. You and I are a forever sorta thing, we'll never be apart, we'll always be part of each other no matter what."

Osferth lost his words, eyes widening and pulling you closer.

You just soothed, "I'm here with you, my love. I'm here, I've got you. You're not alone, I'm right here, I have you. I've got you. I love you. I love you so fucking much, Osferth, okay? I love you more than anything, you're my everything. I love you," you sniffled, breaking down in worse sobs, repeating, "I love you, I love you, I love you so much, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry I wasn't faster, I love you, this shouldn't be happening. I'm so sorry, I should've come faster! I love you, I'm so sorry."

With his last breath, Osferth choked, "L-Love y-y-you."

"I love you," you hushed, bending at the waist to rest your forehead on his, "I love you so much. You're gonna be okay, you're gonna be all right, you'll be safe - where you're going, you'll be safe. I'm so sorry, my love... I'm so sorry."

You felt him go still. You felt the last of his breath exhale, his body deflate. You felt his soul detach from his body.

You froze.

"Oh, my God," you breathed, pulling back to look down at his petrified features. "Oh, my God, no, no, no. God, please, please, give him back," you sobbed, "give him back to me! Do not take him! It's not his time, you selfish cunt! Give him back! It wasn't supposed to end like this! Give him back to me, please! Please! This isn't how this was supposed to happen! We promised eternity together, please! Let us have that! Let us be together, give him back to me! I need him!"

Your shrill hysterics were heard all over Rumcofa.

Finan sobbed into his wife's arms behind you, Cynleaf knelt to slowly extend his hand onto your shoulder. "I'm so sorry," he offered, but you pushed him away harshly; knocking him into the dirt.

"No! I don't want your fucking condolences!" You snapped, holding Osferth tighter, "I want my husband! I want my husband back! Can you give him to me? Can you, Cynleaf? Can you give him back to me!?"

"No - "

"Then you have nothing to offer me! I want nothing else, nothing from you! I only want him!" You looked away from the young lad, finding Osferth's wide open eyes staring up at you. You whimpered, "I only need him, so, please. Please, give him back to me. Please. I need him, I need him, I can't do this without him, please, God, don't do this. You take so many lives, why add him to the mix!? Give him back! C'mon," you begged the cooling body, "c'mon, love, get up. Get up for me, please, just wake up. Come back to me, get up... Get up, Osferth, get up! Please! WAKE UP!"

But Osferth never moved. Never blinked. Never drew breath. And God never answered your pleas. Your dress was saturated in your husband's blood; a pooling puddle seeping into your knees, bodice drenched, his baby moving in your belly. You wailed into the still air, holding your husband tight to your chest; mouth agape to release the terrible screams of anguish, tears never ending, rocking on your knees. You didn't know what to feel... But devastation was prominent.

You wept until your throat went raw, jaw tender from your open mouth. "I'm so sorry!" You repeated, "I should've been quicker! I should've been at your side! You shouldn't have been alone! This is my fault! This is all my fault, I shouldn't have been away from you. I should've been with you, you did not deserve this end. Please! Forgive me, wherever you are, forgive me, I did not intend for this, I shouldn't have left you, I should've been at your side, I'm so sorry. This is all my fault, I'm so sorry."

"No," Ingrith whispered, "no, do not say this is your fault, you did nothing - "

"Exactly!" You snapped at her, eyes ablaze, her husband silent. "I did nothing, I wasn't with him! I wasn't where I was supposed to be! And he was stabbed because of you!"

Finan whispered your name in reprimand.

"No! How many times have you rode a fucking horse, Ingrith!? And now, today, the time it truly matters, you fall; you posed distraction," you sobbed, crumpling in on yourself. "He was distracted by your fall... This shouldn't've happened, this is all wrong!"

The trio just watched you, knowing your emotions were raw and unwavering, that your words did not have meaning because your husband had just died in your arms. Hours passed, you did not move. Hours passed, your husband did not return. Hours passed, and your heart shattered with each passing breath you selfishly drew.

Because living felt selfish now without Osferth.

"Sweet one," Finan whispered, the sun setting, "we should move him. Bring him to the church so Benedict can pray."

Your head shook, "No."

"Darlin', we have to - "

"No," you whimpered, "because if you take him to Benedict, it's real. If we move, he's truly gone... He can't be gone, Finan," you sobbed, meeting your friend's eyes. "If you move him, he's gone, I'm not ready to say goodbye, please. Please, don't take him from me."

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, "but he should be laid to rest."

"Don't take him from me," you begged, a new wave of tears starting. "I just - we were supposed to be a family. We were supposed to have this baby, and now, it's just me? This cannot be, so please, don't take him from me, I only need him back. Give him back to me, Finan, please, I can't be without him."

"I know," he nodded, gently encouraging you into his embrace. It meant you had to let go of Osferth, something you did slowly and gradually, leaning into the Irishman's chest. "All right, I got yah," he whispered, looking to his wife. "C'mon, stand with Ingrith. I'll carry him."

"Be gentle," you sobbed, feeling Ingrith grip your arms to help heave you to your feet; watching Finan scoop Osferth over his shoulder. The change of position made more blood splatter to the dirt, your heart stalling in your chest when you heard the mess.

You felt your soul shriveled and hidden somewhere deep in your chest, following as if in a trance. You watched Finan and Cynleaf slowly lower Osferth to the ground with the other dead Danes, feeling yourself drop to the ground in shock.

Seeing Osferth amongst the dead made it so much more real.

"It's all my fault," you sobbed, Finan moving to your side, "it's all my fault, I got him killed. I should've been quicker. This is my fault, my fault, I did this, 's my fault."

Finan knelt beside you, bringing your foreheads together to hold you tightly and let you sob into his embrace. "You didn't do this," he promised, "you did nothing wrong. You are not at fault. Do not carry this guilt."

You sobbed without reprieve.

Young Uhtred halted Father Benedict from praying over the Danes, telling the older man they had different customs, but looked back at you. He asked your name softly, wondering, "Do you wish for a prayer for... Him?"

Even Young Uhtred couldn't stomach the truth, avoiding using Osferth's name out of sheer disbelief.

"That'd be nice," Finan agreed, turning to sit beside you and hold you under his arm. You leaned into his embrace, head to his shoulder. "She read him his death rites when... It happened."

Young Uhtred nodded, bowing his head, leading, "Our Father, Who art in heaven, Hallowed be Thy Name. Thy Kingdom come, Thy Will be done, On earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day, our daily bread, And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil."

Then, you joined from under Finan's heavy arm, sobbing through your words, "Hail Mary, Full of Grace, The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now, and at the hour of our death."

Benedict finished, "Glory Be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end."

Together, you, Ingrith, Young Uhtred, Benedict, Finan, and even Cynleaf ended, "Amen."

Feeling the most level-headed, Ingrith stepped in and directed the men; informing that Young Uhtred should lead the remaining Danes to Daneland, Finan and Cynleaf would meet Uhtred on the road, and she would accompany you to Wessex - where Osferth could be laid to rest at the place of his birth. Then, the people mourned together for their fallen.

Finan disagreed initially, telling his wife you were his responsibility now that Osferth was passed. But there was no way you could continue with the company, not in your pregnant state. Finan didn't like the idea of you being without him, considering you close to a sister; something of a best mate, someone he couldn't turn his back on - no matter the situation. However, he understood the predicament and finally agreed to part ways, but not before he untied Osferth's crucifix and latched it around your neck. At the gates of Rumcofa, before separating, Finan gifted you his rosary; thinking it might bring comfort in his physical absence.

Years from then, you would bring up a single son named Gabriel (a name your husband favored, a name benefitting an Angel) under Lord Uhtred in his birthplace of Bebbanburg. You never remarried. You never even so much as looked after another man with lust. Gabriel would grow into a handsome warrior and a devoted man of God, satisfied on tales about his father; being painted as a man of honor, integrity, and bravery. Osferth, too, was a man of God, a man of the sword, and a man of his word... Until the very end. And when your time came, you were brought back to Wessex to be laid to rest with your husband; your son having a son, naming him Osferth, and knowing, both his parents shined down on him in pride.

It was a comfort for everyone to know, somewhere in the afterlife, in God's warmth, you and Osferth were reunited; looking just as you did the day you parted from one another.

requesting rules and masterlist

[yandere-writer-momo]

Some Pickle for my baby, @unstuckmusturd . Merry Christmas!! 🎄

TW: Dark content, monster fucking, gore, yandere, size difference, and horror elements

Yandere Baki Shorts: The Abominable Snowman

Yandere Yeti Pickle x Explorer Afab Reader

“Are you sure you know where you’re taking us? It seems you’re deliberately leading us further and further away from civilization.” (Your name) ignored the whines of the group of men that trudged behind her in the snow. They dragged their feet as they huffed. The group hadn’t ceased their complaints since they had left the village but (your name) had already been paid the hefty sum to lead them up the mountain to find a rare herb.

“I’m sure.” (Your name) sighed as she lead them through the forest in the mountain. She’s traveled this mountain dozens of times. She knew it like the back of her hand. It was just a shame most men didn’t think she was capable because of her gender… the men continued to grumble under their breath as they followed behind her towards the snowy clearing. The whole group was unaware they they’re were being watched

It was when the wind began to pick up that (your name) urged the researchers to move faster. A blizzard was coming… they failed to keep up with her fast steps as the snowfall gradually braced denser… and that was when a loud roar echoed throughout the clearing that sent a chill down her spine. Was that a polar bear? No… whatever was charging towards them was much bigger than a bear. (Your name) quickly left the researchers behind as she scrambled to safety. She wasn’t going to let these men slim down her chances of survival since she’s already gotten exactly what she’s wanted.

The thick, white blankets of snow blinded her from the carnage behind her. The only thing she could hear were the loud, blood curdling screams of the researchers. And what felt like an eternity later, silence filled the blistering, cold air. It was terrifying to know that she were now alone, but she had to keep going. She didn’t want to die here. Not like this… not being mauled to death.

Once (your name) was back into the forest, she began to set up camp. She needed to build a shelter to retire for the night. It was far too dangerous to continue traveling, especially with a polar bear on the loose.

(Your name) grunted as she used a shovel from her pack to dig a small hole into the snow to settle into for now. She would use their survival skills to outlast the blizzard and hopefully she didn’t run into any polar bears… (your name) made the perfect hole with a tunnel that didn’t allow the wind to blow into her little snow cave. The young woman set up her sleeping bag and retired for the night. Her eyes that were heavy with sleep drifted shut. She prayed to whatever god was out there that she survived the night… little did she know of the large figure who stood above her hideout. A low growl escaped their lips as they made their way over to the slumbering (your name), their clawed hand brushed a few of her stray hairs out of her cold face. His Pretty mate… he’s been watching her for so long now and she was finally in his grasp. Pickle was so happy!

(Your name) awoke the next morning feeling warm…. Warm?! (Your name) went to jump up in shock but fluffy, muscular arms held her down. What on earth- (your name) gasped when her eyes clashed with brilliant gold eyes. A yeti?!

Pickle sat up and cooed at her, his clawed fingers poked at her cheeks as he rose to sit up on his haunches. He was massive… he was bigger than any creature she’s ever seen and he was covered in white and black hair. Never did she think a creature of myth would be real…

(Your name) went to step back but Pickle stopped her. He quickly pulled her back into his body, the yeti nuzzled his face into her shoulder and loudly purred. (Your name) loudly squealed when she felt his wet tongue lapped at her neck. His breath reeked of rotten meat. “Stop it!”

Pickle whined when she pushed his head away, he had merely wanted to love on his mate… why did she reject him? He had shown that he was the strongest out of all the other males. He was worthy of her. Pickle was strong.

Pickle set her down in a pile of pelts as he began to try to tug at her clothes. He wanted something specific from her… Pickle wanted young and she was the perfect one to bare them for him. He’s searched this mountain for a female for months and she’s been the only one he’s seen. Pickle would stake his claim

(Your name) began to fight back. Her small hands beat against each his chest which amused the large creature. She wanted to play? How cute! But she was so skinny… she’d break if he tried to breed her now!

Pickle soon began to poke and tease her, his sexual appetite satiated for now. He could try again later, there was plenty of time before spring!

(Your name) found herself trapped with Pickle in his cave and it was a terrifying experience. The yeti would constantly bring her back meat with utmost urgency, the large monster whining if she didn’t like what he brought. Didn’t she understand she needed to eat so they could breed? She needed to gain weight! Maybe she’d like something else?

Bathing was a bit difficult for her at first but she taught Pickle how to collect snow in her small pot from her pack. Pickle was amazed the first time he saw fire. He even reached out to touch it out of curiosity but quickly howled in pain when he burnt himself. The yeti cried as (your name) kissed his clawed fingers with utmost care. Pickle began to love to be babied

Pickle loved to see her bare. Her curves were delicious to his starving eyes… he couldn’t wait for the spring time to claim his prize.

Pickle was thrilled when (your name) would eat the berries and fish he brought back. The yeti would dance in happiness every time she ate the succulent fruits and nuts he had scavenged for. It swelled his heart up with pride to see her happy. See? Pickle was a great mate! He was perfect!

As weeks went on, (your name) began to make her own clothes out of the many pelts pickle brought her for warmth. The nest in the center of the cave was now twice the size it was from when she first was brought here.

(Your name) had soon grown used to Pickle’s eccentric behavior and to his constant snuggles. Hell, she’s even grown used to his pungent scent… but lately there’s been a more headier scent all over the cave. One that caused a stirring between her legs. Were they some sort of pheromones?

Pickle smirked when he noticed (your name) shift, the yeti placed his large palms on her legs and slowly pulled her skirts up. There it was… her ovulation cycle has begun.

(Your name) had no time to shift from his grasp before his mouth descends on her. Her fingers tangle into the dark mop atop his head. A loud squeal escaping her lips as he greedily lapped at her folds. His freakishly long tongue dove past the tight ring of muscles to his prize.

It’s when (your name) is tethering on the edge of ecstasy that he pulls his mouth away and teases her hole with something much larger than his tongue. And before she can get a grasp on what is going on, he sheathed himself into her. Pickle groans at how she tightens from the intrusion

Her cries only fuel him to pound into her. To breed. She can do nothing but cry as the large bulge protrudes in her stomach. He was too big. He was too much. But it didn’t take long for the pain from his rough fucking to start to melt into something pleasurable

(Your name) felt the coil steadily build in her once more. This time, her hips began to try to meet his rough thrusts and she was rewarded with his tongue in her open mouth. She practically choked on the large muscle that had hints of her taste on it

She felt herself explode on this monster who was somehow sucked even deeper into her from the force of her orgasm. A scream escaped her throat when she felt burning ropes of his cum fill her… there was not a doubt in her mind that this monster had successfully stuffed her with his young. Her stomach a bit bloated from the sheer amount of semen in her

Pickle cooed as he pulled out with a wet pop, his fingers scooped up the viscous cum that leaked from her stretched hole in hope to save as much of it as he could.

. She knew she was ruined beyond repair, but it didn’t matter to her anymore. If she was going to be stuck on this mountain, she might as well enjoy herself

Pickle cooed as he curled his body into hers. The monster licked up her tears as he held her close to keep her warm. She was his mate… his perfect, beautiful mate

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU pt 67

part 1 | part 66 | ao3

cw: recreational drug use

Waiting around to die or get arrested or whatever fucking sucks. Partly because there’s no running water (Steve’s never wanted to take a stress shower so badly in his life) and partly because Eddie won’t let him stay sober. Has it in his head that altering Steve’s mental state will keep Vecna away, like hanging a mosquito net over the opening of a tent.

It’s not not working, he guesses.

He hasn’t fallen in to any more hallucinated open graves, at least.

He comes down the stairs a little before noon, towel-drying his hair after a bottled water sink bath, and finds Eddie in the kitchen: Reeboks on, hair a cotton candy mess, head-to-toe teddy bear tie-dye under his leather jacket — a matching shirt and sweats that he fished out of Rick’s dresser. He’s stirring Spaghettios in a small pot at the stove, and when he sees Steve come in he turns to offer some, the wooden spoon held out with a sort of desperate perkiness. “Morning! I found food that isn’t expired. You want some?”

Steve shakes his head.

Eddie shovels the whole spoonful into his mouth; wipes sauce off his chin, speaks before he’s finished chewing. “I also found blotters in the freezer and shrooms in the bedroom closet, so uh. Pick your poison.”

Steve picks the shrooms. They wait a few hours to take them because Eddie swears the sunset while you’re tripping is unparalleled, man, although Steve kind of suspects that he’s just giving him time to work up the nerve to eat them. He still gets nervous about chemicals — probably always will, after the shit the Russians did.

In the meantime, Eddie rummages through Rick’s cassette collection, and Steve talks to Robin on the walkie; gets all the new details in staticky half-sentences — something about mind flayers and mental hospitals, what else is new? He tells her to be safe; tells her that he loves her; keeps his eyes trained on the clock.

—

Shrooms smell and taste like ass. Steve can’t stomach them; spits into the grass while Eddie laughs sympathetically and hands him a little square of paper to put on his tongue instead, and they spread out side by side on a few old beach towels by the water and wait for it to kick in.

Nothing, at first, not that Steve expected different. Twenty minutes; forty-five.

“Still nothing?”

“Nothing.”

And then.

Eddie holds up a glossy aquamarine pebble, squinting at its glow in the late afternoon sun. “I should give this rock to Skye. Bet she’d love it.”

“That’s a shard of glass.”

Eddie blinks at it. “Oh, shit.”

Steve snorts, and when he looks at Eddie sideways there’s a glimmer of that same cerulean shade outlining his whole body, a low-frequency feather of energy rolling off of him in waves. Eddie moves his arm and the color chases it, a long-exposure photo of high beams on rain-slick roads.

“Oh,” Steve says, mouth slack. His voices echo in his head; all six of them. “I think I’m…”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, eyes alight, pupils blown.

“Yeah.”

All at once something slots into place, attunes itself inside of Steve, and it’s like… he can see Eddie’s mind; touch it, cradle it, reach out to it with its own. It feels crazy. Psychedelics are fucking crazy. He reaches out a hand, slicing through ribbons of shimmering light, tasting the colors as they fade, and Eddie’s emotions spread out in high-definition before him — like the image has always been there but now it’s crystal clear; someone’s shifted his focal point, filled a kiddie pool with Epsom salt and left him there to float.

“I see you,” he says nonsensically.

Eddie frowns. “I’m sorry.”

“…That I can see you?”

“I usually am.”

That’s not right. Eddie’s thoughts shouldn’t sour on his account, shouldn’t sag in the middle like a moldy tangerine. “I can close my eyes?”

“Fuck,” Eddie laughs, thin and strained. “Don’t say shit like that when I’m not allowed to kiss you.”

“You’re not?”

He hesitates. “Am I?” Antsy fingers drum the grass, overgrown with vibrant clover and dandelion stalks. “Just feel like we should talk first, if uh, if it’s safe.”

Steve probes his own mind, tests it for outside threats, but there’s nothing. The acid forms a fractal fortress. Penrose steps, paradoxical and strange. “It’s safe.”

He moves to lie on his side, invites Eddie to do the same. “Talk into the kiss,” he suggests when Eddie joins him — face to face, chest to chest, Steve can see the thrum of Eddie’s heartbeat in the hollow of his throat; wants to press his thumb to it, so he does, the sense memory of ripe cherries bursting on his tongue.

Eddie’s lips against his own; hovering. Static electricity like the scent of summer rain. “I think my pride makes me a coward.”

Steve rubs his dry lips across Eddie’s, chapped skin and shared heat.

“It’s like… I kept trying to tell myself that I was being… I don’t know, valiant, or some shit? Like, ‘oh, he’s so much better without me. I’m the town pariah; I’m keeping him safe by running away.’” He thumps his fist against his heart as if beating a shield to shining armor, and Steve can’t see his eyebrows with their foreheads pressed together, but he can feel Eddie scrunching them into a picture-perfect hero frown. Almost has to laugh — so fucking theatrical even when he’s serious.

“But if I’m honest,” Eddie murmurs, “it wasn’t like that at all. Nothing fucking brave about vanishing on you. Like, what?” His voice shifts again, lilting but critical, a comedian doing crowd work. “I get a liiiittle fucked up by townies two too many times, and I sabotage my whole life over it? Ruin the best thing I’ve ever had over it? As if this goddamn horseshit hasn’t been happening to me since— forever! Shit.” He blows his bangs out of his face; calms himself. Goes a little cross-eyed trying to look Steve in the eye. “I got scared, Steve. There it is. That’s the ugly truth of it.”

He swallows harshly in the dense silence that follows.

Robins chirp; cars pass.

The lake laps at the shore and casts prisms like fishing line, spiderwebs of rainbow light flashing behind Steve’s eyelids. He brings his hands up to Eddie’s face.

“Christ.” Eddie shudders; lets himself become dead weight, rubbing his cheek into the touch, warm stubble scratching over the pads of Steve’s fingers. “Am I making any sense? I feel like I’m not making any sense.”

Yes. No. “You’re making sense. I mean. As much as anything is right now.” The sandy brown freckles on the bridge of Eddie’s nose are swirling like snow flurries. Steve traces them with curious hands. His knuckles blur and swivel, too. “You left because… you wanted to protect me from… yourself?” He sums up, not sure if he’s getting the math right.

“I left because I’m a scared little shit who couldn’t handle getting bullied in a parking lot, but uh. Yeah. I guess I, like, didn’t want to…” His eyes go big and startled, cheeks flooding bright pink. “Oh, shit, I was about to say I didn’t want to curse you, Jesus Christ.”

Steve honks with laughter. Loud and deep and punched out without warning, because the irony of that — that there’s a literal big bad running around cursing people, and the person who was actually doing some real good in his life decided that he was the problem — it’s fucking— hilarious! Hysterical! Steve giggles himself sick, lungs burning as it tapers to a silent wheeze, and Eddie joins him, confusion giving way to compulsion; contagion in the manic giddiness spewing out of Steve.

“You thought—” Steve struggles through hiccups, tears beading in his lash line, “you thought you were the bad luck charm in this relationship?”

“Don’t mock me!” Eddie whines, still laughing. “I already said it was dumb.”

“It’s so dumb.” Eddie may be the cutest, dumbest thing he’s ever seen. He rubs his thumbs over his cheekbones, smile fading. “If anyone’s a curse, it’s me.” Four for four here on getting dragged into supernatural shit. Does Eddie really think homophobes are more dangerous than hell dimensions?

Eddie’s already shaking his head. “You’re a fucking blessing.”

Warmth radiates through Steve, drips from the crown of his head like a downpour of holy water. He feels anointed. Ascended. He feels— “Please tell me we’re allowed to kiss now.”

Their mouths crush together, impossible to tell who moves first, whose tongue is in whose mouth, whose desperate breath Steve swallows as Eddie rolls him onto his back. Hands roam and pull and clutch, molding the shape of him into the earth. Maybe someday, Steve thinks, if aliens invade, they’ll study these imprints like crop circles, trampled declarations of how much Steve loves this boy. “God,” he gasps into the kiss. “Missed you so much.”

“So much.”

“Don’t do that to me again. Don’t go.”

“Never,” Eddie swears. His grip tightens on Steve’s waist. “Never again, baby, I fucking promise. I think I—”

On the far side of the house, leaves crunch and branches snap as a car pulls up the drive. Boots on pavement, rowdy voices; unfamiliar; red alert.

“Spread out, boys!” the voice of Jason Carver bellows. “If that Freak’s in here, we’ll find him.”

—

part 68

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[cissyenthusiast010155]

hihi

could i request prompt 37 with Larissa x

We Want Who We Want ~Larissa Weems xFem CollegeAge!Reader ~Holiday Bingo

Hi hi anon! Happy Holidays!!! Thank you for the request. I always love getting and writing them! This is my second Holiday Bingo for the 2023 season. This one is with the regal and elegant Larissa Weems. Enjoy! ❄️💋

Previous Bingo <—found here!

Holiday Bingo <—Here!!

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Prompt- Sky Resort/Winter Cabin

#37. Best Friend’s Mom troupe

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!!, smut, age gap (all legal), mommy kink, kissing, grinding, fingering, thigh grinding, strap-on use, strap-fucking, multiple positions, teasing, semi-pda, flustering, light power play, light taunting, light overstimulation, implied future smut, implied eating out, etc.

Enjoy (;

“Thank you for having me, Mrs. Weems.”

You thanked the mom of your best friend as you got into the Weems’ car. They had invited you to their ski resort/winter cabin. You had been best friends with their daughter since grade school, and now you were both in college. You had been close to the whole family really, having been raised in the same neighborhood.

“Please Darling, call me Larissa.” Mrs. Weems insisted with her hypnotizing voice and her familiar smile.

Jesus… You had forgotten how much you enjoyed Mrs. Weems’ voice…

You blushed lightly and nodded.

“Of course, Larissa” you said, purposefully accentuating her name.

It was your first time seeing the Weems’ family since you went off to college last year. And so when they had found out that you were in town for winter break, the who family immediately invited you to come with to their winter resort.

And how could you refuse?

And so here you were, sitting in between your childhood bestie and her younger brother, in the back seat of Mrs. Weems’ white Volvo. The drive was a good ways away, as you were driving from Vermont to Whistler. But you didn’t mind.

The drive went by in a flash, and soon the car pulled up at the ski cabin. The time had flown by as you caught up with your bestie and her family. You talked about your college, she talked about hers, her brother talked sparsely about his school, Mr. Weems spoke a bit about his work, but by far the most capturing speaker was Mrs. Weems. Every time she spoke, the hours seemed to turn into minutes. You could listen to that woman talk for ages. And you happily egged her on to continue talking for majority of the drive. But like most things, they enjoyment seemed to fly by and come to an end.

“We are here…!!” Mrs. Weems exclaimed in an almost song-like expression, making you swoon lightly at her voice once more.

Everyone piled out of the car, and Mr. Weems immediately recruited your bestie’s brother to help him shovel the snow out of the driveway. Mrs. Weems Larissa delegated your best friend to grab the food stuffs and put it away in the kitchen.

“That leaves us, Darling. Would you mind helping me with the baggage…?” Larissa hummed in her low and musical tone.

These pet names tugged at your core far more than you remember them doing…

“I… of course, Mrs. Weems…!” You squeaked, a little intimidated by being alone with the tall blonde.

Larissa looked back at your and cocked her eyebrow at your expectantly.

“Oh Larissa-shit-Sorry right—!!” You exclaimed, your face getting red in embarrassment.

The woman’s eyes sparkled in a way that was new to you. She seemed amused… More than usual. She immediately smiled back at you when you corrected yourself.

“No worries, Dear.”

You blushed even more at the pet name, as you helped your best friend’s mom with the baggage. As you carried the luggage inside, your mouth dropped at the expansive and marvelous nature of the cabin.

This wasn’t a cabin… This was a fucking ski mansion.

Larissa chuckled lightly at your reaction.

“Let me show you around, Darling…” she hummed.

As you dropped off the baggage in each room, Larissa showed you the layout. The center of their ski resort was the common areas— kitchen, dining room, storage, living room, terrace, etc… Mr. Weems had the Northwest Wing, —This place had fucking wings—!!— The brother had the Southwest wing, and your bestie was in the Southeast wing. You dropped everyone’s bags off in each of their corresponding wings and rooms. Lastly, the Northeast wing was Larissa’s.

“The guest room that you will be staying in the Northeast wing right across from my private quarters.” Larissa informed you with a hum.

There was that sparkle in the woman’s eyes again…

“Thank you, Larissa…” you hummed right back.

Who were you to complain about being so close to such a goddess..??

You bit your lip lightly, as the woman smirked and opened your door, showing you into your room. Your eyes widened at the luxurious nature of the room, just as wealthy as the others… You placed your bags in the massive room.

And turned back to the woman. She seemed continually amused at your shock. Your gazes locked and your eyes gazed into Larissa’s for the moment. No words were spoken. You swore you caught the woman lick her lips, but part of you also swore that you imagined it. Neither of you backed down from the challenge of each other’s gaze.

Before you could think of it anymore, Suddenly you both heard Mr. Weems calling for everyone from the common space. The trance was broken and Larissa immediately swiveled towards the corridor and indicated for you to follow her back to the living room space.

You both met with the rest of the family in the living room, where Mr. Weems announced that he would be taking the children skying. He asked if you would be join them.

But before you could say anything, Larissa placed her hand on your waist and elegantly pulled you closer to her warm body. Your breathed hitched lightly at the physical closeness of the two of you. Your eyes widened and you looked to the side and up to the tall mother in anticipation.

“Actually, I will be needing her help in preparing for our holiday dinner. Plus, my Darling, I believe you don’t ski, isn’t that right…?” Larissa purred.

Her tone sounded… possessive…??

Now all eyes were on you. You gulped and locked eyes with Larissa, whose eye shored through your soul. All you could do was shake your head. She was still holding onto your waist. Your blush darkened.

“Excellent. Then it’s decided.” She exclaimed in her hypnotic tone, “You three go skying, while we prepare dinner.”

At the agreement of the rest of the family, Larissa let go of your waist. You could feel her hand burning into your clothes skin, and with that feeling suddenly gone, you instinctually let out a small whimper.

You desperately hoped that no one had caught it, and no one seemed to as no words about it were said. Mr. Weems and his children were busy running around to get their ski gear, as you just stood there frozen.

What has just happened…??

Suddenly you felt a hand against your back. You shivered through your entire body and looked up at Larissa as she guided you to the kitchen. She looks down at you with a knowing, darker smile. Before you knew it, the rest of the family had run out and left to hit the slopes before dark, leaving you alone with your mother’s best friend.

For the next few hours, Larissa had you complete menial tasks. Things such as dicing, mixing, chopping, and other cooking tasks. This wasn’t the problem.

The problem was the amount that this woman was affecting you… She was full on teasing and flirting with you. And it was fucking working.

All the pet names that she used… “Darling, would you be a doll and grab the tomato paste…?”, “That’s perfect, love. Just like that.”, “Oh Sweetheart, are you too short to reach that…?”

All the lingering touches on you… Her fingers lightly grazing across yours, Her hands squeezing your waist, her fingers tapping and running along your neck, her hands lightly massaging and lingering on your shoulders…

All the compliments she paid you unconditionally… “You look good in that, Darling…”, “You’re a natural, Love.”, “Such a good little sous-chef…”

It made you realize how much you like Larissa. And not just liked. But like like liked. The kind of like where by the time the family returned, you were day dreaming about the woman taking you against the counter… whispering filth in your ear… and making you forget everything but her.

But to be fair, you weren’t exactly being nice and fair to her either. You may have bent down a couple times in front of her after having “accidentally” dropped something… and you had no trouble purring out her name in every sentence you formed…

Then dinner came around, and you all sat down to eat. But Larissa didn’t relent. Sure, she was verbally less forward about her intentions, so that her family wouldn’t catch on. But her intentions were just as clear.

During dinner, Larissa had chosen to sit across from you. Throughout the meal, you felt her heeled foot graze up your leg, causing goosebumps to erupt all over your skin. You took deep breaths as your breathing threatened to become labored the higher up her heel dragged up your legs.

She gave your daggers stares every once in a while, and the woman wore a mischievous smirk the entire meal. You swore you’d get her back…

Finally, dinner ended and everyone began to retreat to their rooms. Larissa snagged you once more to help her clean up the dishes. As you were washing the dirty dishes, the woman came up behind you, placing her lips on the shell of your ear.

“Meet me in my room once you’ve changed and are ready for bed…” She huskily whispered.

Shivers went through your spine and directly to your core. You nodded and didn’t say another word. Once the dishes were done, you raced to your room. You quickly stripped your clothes and hoped in the shower, desperate to wash off all the embarrassment and blush from your frame. After your shower, you went to put on your pajamas. On your bed when you returned from the shower, you found a set of silk pjs, a button down shirt and a pair of shorts. Along with the set, there was a note.

Wear these. Only these. ~Larissa <3

You gulped and nodded instinctively. You put on the pj set, and left your room, quietly creeping across the hall to Larissa’s room.

You knocked lightly, and the tall woman answered the door. She smiled lightly and opened the door slightly for you to slip in. She closed the door behind you.

“Have a seat, Darling.” She purred with a warm smile, indicating to the edge of the bed, “That set looks marvelous on you.”

“Thank you, Larissa…” you purred right back.

You sat on the edge of the bed, finally getting the courage to look at the woman. Your eyes widened as you saw Larissa. Her pinned back hair was completely unpinned, her blonde curls bouncing freely. She was wrapped up in a thin silver, silk coverup, that accentuated her curves perfectly. She still had somw makeup on, just her lipstick as far as you could tell. Her red, luscious lips… Your mouth went dry and you couldn’t help but stare.

“Cat got your tongue…?” Larissa teased, as she continued to elegantly stand right in your line of sight.

You gulped and blushed even more.

“I—Larissa. You look… really good…” you breathed out, your face tomato red with blush.

Larissa smirked and began to stalk slowly toward you. She stopped right in front of the edge of the bed. Her fingers delicate yet firm moved to cup your face, caressing your cheek. You instinctually leaned into the woman’s touch, closing your eyes and humming lightly in delight.

“I like my name on your tongue…”

Your eyes shot open at Larissa’s words. You gulped and looked up at her gaze. Her eyes were dark and shimmering like they were all day.

“I like it too…” you whispered in confession.

Larissa then leaned into your personal space, bringing her hot breath against your neck.

“Tell me if you want to stop, and I’ll stop, no questions asked, alright Darling…?” She breathed out.

“Yes. Don’t stop—” you let out in a gasp.

As soon as those words left your lips, Larissa mouth was on your neck, licking, sucking, and tasting your skin. You were sure that she would leave marks by the way she sucked, but you couldn’t care less right now. Larissa quickly found your sensitive spot. You craned your neck back and your eyes rolled back as your mouth opened in a silent scream.

“Ohhhhhh Larissa—” you breathily groaned.

Larissa hummed in delight at your groan. But she quickly pulled you away afterwards, making you whine.

“Tsk tsk, Darling, no whining.” She sternly told you.

Your eyes widened and you gulped.

“Sorry, Larissa”

Larissa smiled and nodded in understanding. She then picked you up with ease, making you yell lightly. She carried you back to the middle of the bed. You played on your back, propped up by your elbows, as you watched the older woman at the edge of the bed.

She began to teasingly remove her robe. You bit your lip and groaned.

“Please don’t tease…!” You pleaded with the woman.

Larissa chuckled and quickly removed her robe, revealing a crimson lingerie set.

“Alright, Darling…”

Larissa then crawled up the bed and came up on top of you. Both of your breathing were already labored. Your eyes locked once more. Before Larissa could do anything, you reached up with one hand, grabbing the woman’s neck and smashing your lips together. You groaned into the kiss. Larissa growled playfully, making quick work of grabbing your hands and holding them above your head.

“I’m in charge…” she purred darkly against your lips.

The kiss was heated and passionate. You could feel the years of built up need against the woman’s lips. Eventually, you bit had to pull away for air.

“Fuck. I’ve wanted to do that ever since high school…” you panted with a big shit eating grin spread across your face.

Larissa chuckled at your confession.

“I hear you, Darling… It took all of my restraint not to just take you in the kitchen earlier…”

Your mouth went dry and you bucked your hips up and groaned in response to her words.

“Yessss please Larissa…!”

“The walls are soundproof so if you want anything, you are going to have to scream and cry for it, Darling…” Larissa purred lustfully.

As she said this, she straddled your frame and began grinding her body against yours.

“Ohhhhhh fuck fuck” you panted, getting louder and louder, “please clothes—off Larissa—!!”

The woman still had your hands pinned above your head with the ease of one of her beautiful and manicured hands.

“Using your words, good girl…”

Shivers ran through your body at the praise, especially as you felt Larissa’s free fingers unbuttoning your pj shirt. You eyes fluttered open at this act and your mouth dropped at her unbuttoning your shirt one handed with ease.

Larissa met your gaze shortly as she continued to expose your chest.

“Not my first time, Darling…” she chuckled tauntingly.

“What, have you fucked your daughter’s best friend before?” You shot back.

As soon as the words had left your mouth, you gasped and you knew it had been a mistake. Larissa gaze met yours, staring you down. She chuckled again, but this one was darker and more wicked…

In one swift move, Larissa shifted you on top of her own lap, as she rested against the headboard of her bed. She placed you to where you straddled her one creamy thigh, and her hands were on your waist.

Your shirt was unbuttoned three quarters of the way. You gulped and looked towards the woman. She met your gaze with a smirk. The hands on your hips ground you down of her thigh, making your squeal in pleasurable stimulus. Your hips instinctually bucked against her thigh, desperate for the stimulus. The combination of her creamy thigh and the thin silk against your exposed cunt made you dizzy. Larissa continued to grind you against her thigh, not relenting. You bumped the woman’s thigh in needy desperation as she watched amusingly.

As your moans and yelps turned more incoherent, as you got wetter and wetter to the point of where you could combust any second, Larissa brought her lips against the shell of your ear.

“No, you are the only friend of my daughters who undresses me with your eyes and who acts a like a slut needing to be put in line…” Larissa darkly cooed.

“Ahhhhh mMmm fuck Larissa please—!!” You cried out breathily.

“What do you need, Darling…?” She teased.

“N-need… need to cum GOD please Larissa—!!!” You cried out, your body starting to shake from the stimulation.

Just as those words left your mouth, Larissa yanked you off her thigh, and dropped you in the spot of the bed in between her legs. You squeaked in dismay and response, almost ready to cry at how close you had been.

“No n-no Larissa please…” you immediately began to beg the woman.

Larissa simply shushed you, effectively silencing you. Her hand ran up and down your sensitive frame. You immediately leaned into her touch and purred in pleasure.

“Let’s make you purr properly…” she cooed lustfully.

Larissa then continued to removed your shirt, throwing it aside, and moving to your shorts, which were thrown aside just as easily. Her hands then positioned you to straddle her entire frame, exposing your cunt to the cold air and making you yelp lightly.

You then felt Larissa’s cold fingers cup your sex.

“Ahh ahhhhmmmm Larissa yessss please…!!”

Larissa smirked and slid two fingers into your cunt with ease.

“Darling, you are drenched.”

The words left the woman’s mouth with pride. You blushed but didn’t have it in your mind to respond, no you were too occupied, grabbing onto Larissa’s shoulders for support and desperately grinding against her hand.

“Yes yes yessss Larissa—” you hissed.

Her fingers pumped and curled inside you with ease and to no surprise to either of you.

“I’ve been working you up all day, hmmm love…? Making you such a needy girl…”

You nodded your head vigorously and groaned once more.

It didn’t take long before you were on the edge once more, and begging Larissa to let you cum.

“No, not yet.” She firmly told you.

You whimpered but nodded in understanding.

“What do you think my daughter, your best friend would think if she walked in on us…?” Larissa lustfully cooed.

Your eyes rolled back and you cried out at her words.

“Oh God No no no soooo bad—!!” You cried out, “please Larissa please need it need it so bad…!!!”

With that, Larissa pulled out of you completely.

“No fuck n-no!” You exclaimed and groaned loudly.

Larissa chuckled and firmly grabbed your cheeks, holding them together.

“Darling, You have no idea what you were getting yourself involved in… Are you still sure about this…?”

Suddenly a wave of confidence crashed over you, you lined yourself up with the woman’s clothed sex and ground yourself against her, making Larissa hiss out in pleasure.

“Give it to me, mommy… I can’t take it…” you whispered in the woman’s ear.

Suddenly, Larissa lunged you forward, flipping you back and on your back, as she towered over you and held you hands above your head once more, spreading you out like a starfish. She growled in your face, making you busk your hips up in desperation.

“Careful what you ask mommy for…”

You gulped and whimpered, still bucking your hips up for any kind of friction. Larissa then released you, and got off the bed. You immediately sat up in confusion.

“Get on all fours.” Larissa ordered, as she opened the side drawer of her bedside drawer.

You immediately did as you were told, getting on all fours so that you were facing the door. You heard Larissa shuffle to put something on, before joining you back on the bed, this time behind you.

“You want mommy to give it to you, Sweetheart…?”

Her tone dripped with lust. You gulped and nodded eagerly, wiggling your ass in the air.

“Yes yes yes mommy please—!!” You cried out.

Larissa came flush up against your behind, her strap-on dick gliding against your folds.

“Mommy’s applied generous lube on her dick, Baby… all ready to make you mine…” she growled.

Before you could respond, the woman was pushing her dick into your core.

“Ohhhhh ahhhh fuck fuck— Larissa!!” You cried out.

“Shhh, good girl… taking me so well, breathe, Darling…”

You took a deep breath, and then you could feel her dick all the way inside you, all the way to the hilt.

“Shiiiiiit…” your eyes rolled back, “More GOD MORE please mommy!!”

“Good girl.”

Larissa began rocking her hips back and forth, pulling her plastic dick in and out of you at a decent pace.

“Yes god Harder F-faster—!!!” You screamed desperately.

Your hands gripped the sheets beneath you like a vice.

“S-so close—-!! Larissa Mommy please…!!!” You screamed.

Larissa chuckled, and with one more hard thrust, you were coming on her dick. Hard. Screaming and panting.

But Larissa didn’t stop after that. No, she sped up. Tears began to fall down your face.

“F-fffuck Larissa god—!!” You screamed.

Before your mind could register anything, Larissa had flipped you back onto your back, fucking you into the mattress. Your mount opened in overwhelming pleasure.

As Larissa pounded into you and you could contain your screams, you suddenly lunged forward and smashed your lips into hers.

God were you definitely addicted to these lips…

Larissa full on moaned into the kiss, and she never relented in continuing to fuck you into her mattress. Not once. Your eyes rolled back and you screamed as your next orgasm overtook you.

Your whole body went limp after you came down from your high, and Larissa was quick to kindly help you down and off your high. She slowly pulled out of you, still a panting, limp mess. You collapsed on the bed, and Larissa was quick to throw the strap to the side and go into the bathroom to grab a warm washcloth, then coming up next to you.

“May I…?” She gently asked for permission to take care of you.

You nodded with your flushed face. Larissa hummed in satisfaction as she cleaned you up caringly. When she was done, she joined you on the bed, pulling you into her embrace.

You were beat and ready to fall asleep. You’d face the consequences of your actions tomorrow, you decided.

“Tomorrow, I’m going to get a proper taste of you, Darling…” Larissa hummed in your ear as she lazily ran her fingers through your hair, while you dozed off to sleep.

~~~

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[soft-mafia]

Buggy Headcanons (NSFW + SFW)

warnings: mentions of female reader, the NSFW isn’t separated from the SFW it’s kind of mixed in

a/n: I wanted to do some more Buggy headcanons to get my creative juices flowing loool

• The man stress eats(and drinks), when he’s frustrated over another encounter with straw hat, or a failed treasure hunt, he’ll sit on his throne or in his quarters and shovel food into his mouth. Whenever you’re sitting on his lap he can accidentally get a whole lot of crumbs on you.

• He’ll have days when all he wants to do is fuck. He’ll have sex with you for hours, until the room smelled like sweat and raw sex. His hairy torso pressed up against your back while he’s holding you down, grunting like a bull as he cums in you for what feels like the millionth time. Of course he takes breaks after every round, giving himself a breather while he either holds you close to him, or plays with your sopping pussy.

• The most annoying thing about sleeping with him at night is when he’s spooning you, he sometimes snores right into your ear. And it’s loud, especially when he gets choked on his own mucus and goes into a loud coughing fit.

• As soon as he gets into his quarters after a long day of pillaging and pirating— his clothes as off. As soon as that door closes he’s already in his underwear flopped onto the bed.

• He always makes sure that you’re eating. Even when you’re full or not hungry he’ll shove some food into your mouth or hand feed you a fruit or something. And he’d always do it at the worst times too, whenever you’re talking to one of his pirates about something, or if you’re talking to him, he’ll his hold a piece of food up to your mouth like you’re an animal(or his floating hand will just show up beside you) and he’ll expect you to take it, and if you don’t he’ll just shove it into your face again.

• Buggy loves grabbing your ass, especially when you least expect it, he’ll pull you into a firm embrace, and when you think he’s just being all lovey dovey— your eyes go wide when you feel his strong hands gripping your ass, your face going red as you feel his deep laughter rumble in his chest.

• He goes crazy over chin scratches, will literally go loopy when you scritch him.

• It’s hard getting all of his thick cock to properly fit into your mouth in one go, so he takes his time easing your lips around him. His muscled thighs twitching in his pants, grunts escaping him as he guides you through it. “Yeah.. that’s it, all the way down that pretty throat.” He chuckles gravely behind grit teeth, “You’d think you’d get used to it by now!” He laughs. Gently holding your head while watching your cheeks puff out with his cock is one of his favorite things about blowjobs.

• Gets jealous and protective whenever he’s around someone he sees as a threat to your relationship. It’s kind of a similar situation to his nose, where he’s so insecure he thinks everybody is out to steal you from him. You’re with him while he’s talking to somebody he sees as stronger and more attractive than he is(impossible), they’re speaking to him about something but he’s not listening to because he’s thinking about them stealing you and you running off with them. Buggy growls and randomly blurts out, “HANDS OFF MY GIRL, SHE’S MINE!” Which leads you, and the person in question confused.

• There was an incident where Mr. 3 sarcastically asked Buggy if he had to choose between Y/n and the one piece, Buggy just stood there with his mouth open, looking between you and 3, genuinely torn between the two options. You were rightfully pissed and didn’t speak to him for the rest of the day. While you were giving him the silent treatment, he was an emotional rollercoaster, going from whining, to straight up shouting at you. “Come on baby it was hypotheticalllll!!” “STOP BEING DRAMATIC!!” “At least look at me when I’m talking to you!!!” “LOOK AT ME Y/N!!!”

• Sometimes he does things to try and get you to laugh, and every time he does something that unintentionally makes a fool out of himself, and usually it always gets you to break and burst out into laughter.

• Buggy is by no means a 5 star chef but one time he tried to do something nice and surprise you with breakfast in bed. The typical bacon and egg smiley face breakfast. It was so adorable that you didn’t even complain about the burnt to a crisp, tasteless bacon.

• He lets you deal with his hair because it’s too much of a hassle for him, you have the honor of washing it, deep conditioning it, brushing all of the knots out of his hair(with the plus of him shouting and complaining at you during the entire process), and styling it into his hat.

• Buggy loves neck kisses, as if his neck isn’t just begging to be kissed. He’s a sucker for when you hold his jaw and lean in, then gently brush your lips over his thick, muscled neck before pressing a soft kiss to it, it makes him shiver and blush every time.

• You’re the only one who he has ever let touch his nose It’s a privilege you get from being his. He obviously doesn’t like it, and he never lets it go as far as a typical kiss or nose boop, he’ll turn away to grumble and frown about it, but it always leaves him flustered every time. It gets him to shut up as well, it’s like an off button, if you’re having a heated discussion with him and you know you’re right— just boop the snoot and he backs down.

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Denim on Denim

A Seams x Grays crossover

Summary: Joel tries to get a haircut - but it turns out he can’t do anything in the QZ without getting into a fistfight, and you’re lucky enough to be in the audience.

Warnings: Mildly spicy thoughts, two sexy men fighting, language, reader was a hairdresser prior to the outbreak and has a nickname related to her job, no use of Y/N, no physical descriptions of reader, very lightly edited.

This oneshot can be read independently of the two series, but for the full experience, I recommend reading at least Grays. This is a post-outbreak AU of Grays, and is set before Seams Joel leaves the QZ. Part of the Shiv's salon drabbles.

Word count: 2.7k

Notes: A whole year after my random thoughts about how Joel's hair looks that good in an apocalypse and a random notif on this post that reminded of it, we finally get Joel to Shiv's salon... or do we? 🤷🏻‍♀️ I had a blast writing this oneshot - it's a bit silly, a bit spicy, I hope you enjoy it ❤️

‘Goddamnit.’

Joel swipes viciously at the curl hanging over eyes, like a boxer at a punchbag. Try as he might to slick it back, every time his shovel hits the dirt, the hair uncoils, bouncing obnoxiously in his field of vision.

He needs a fucking haircut. Tess usually does it for him every month or so, but she’s been in a mood - snapping at him, keeping him at arm’s length, she hasn’t even been to his apartment for two whole weeks.

This time of the year is hard for her. He knows all too well that he’s the same every September. They’re in each of their own time loops, a cage within the trappings of the QZ.

‘You look like you need a trim, bro.’

Joel barely glances up. He knows the guy, they share a surname after all. People call him Ben, or Benny, and even an old man like him knows he’s a good-looking son of a bitch.

They work the same shifts sometimes, and he knows Tess has crossed paths with him at the illegal fight nights. Joel has also seen him a few times at the bar, where he’s usually surrounded by even more good-looking motherfuckers.

Joel knows he’s a damn flirt too. He always has pretty words for Tess when he sees her. He’s harmless though, and he supposes that she deserves sweet nothings from at least one Miller since he’s no good at them.

Realising he hasn’t responded, Joel grunts noncommittally, self-consciousness prickling the back of his neck.

‘I know someone, she was a professional hairdresser before all this.’

Joel ignores him and keeps shovelling.

‘If you tell her you know me, she’ll give you a good rate.’

More shovelling.

‘Alright man, my shift’s up. See you ‘round.’

Five steps, and Joel sighs, digging the shovel into the dirt.

‘Wait.’

Joel stands on the doorway, and stares.

There’s an actual backwash in the corner of the dingy living room - well, living space. There are no doors in the tenement apartments.

‘You waiting for it to say hello back, or what?’

His eyes snap to yours, a scowl drawing his brows together.

Not that you look at all intimidated, one eyebrow arched high and an amused smile sitting lopsided on your lips, which he will admit throws him just a bit. He’s not used to having to work for it.

Giving you a tight nod, he takes two steps into the apartment. He recognises the layout, a mirror of his own, which is a few blocks away.

Closing the door with a flourish behind him, you ask brightly, ‘You’re here for a haircut?’

He’s about to answer when something winks at him, and he looks up, momentarily blinded by the reflection of afternoon light in the cracked mirror that hangs over a battered styling station.

Your apartment has windows that don’t look directly onto the next building, and sun floods the space. Even light is a real rarity in the shithole of a QZ, where everything indoors is dingy. He idly wonders if you had to bribe someone -

Distracted, he catches the sliver of a shadow moving from the corner of his eye a split second later than he would if he was on high alert. On reflex, his fingers find the hilt of his knife and he whips it out in a wide arc, swinging to his left where gunmetal catches the afternoon light.

‘Drop it!’ he barks, the same moment as the other man growls, ‘The fuck are you doing in my home with a knife?’

To Joel’s bewilderment, you chuckle somewhere to his right, amused. ‘C’mon guys. Dramatic, much?’

‘He snuck up on me,’ Joel growls defensively.

‘Frankie, put your gun away, dude’s just here for a haircut - I’m assuming anyway, he never did answer my question.’

‘Yes, I’m here for a haircut,’ he snaps, resheathing his knife. ‘Fuck would I be doin’ here if not?’

‘Fuck should I know, dipshit?’ retorts Frankie, tucking his gun in the back of his jeans. ‘You always bring a knife to your haircuts?’

‘D’ya always threaten to shoot paying customers?’

‘No, we definitely do not.’ You step into the space between the two men in case they get snippy with each other again. ‘Who sent you?’

Your customer crosses his arms, and you can’t help noticing the fabric of his shirt stretching across those broad shoulders. ‘Blondie.’

‘Blondie?’ you frown, confused. ‘Oh wait, you mean Ben? I thought I recognised you. I’ve seen you at one of his fights, with your wife? What’s her name now -’

‘Tess,’ he replies, then promptly looks like he wishes he’d stopped himself before he answered. ‘She’s not my -’ he trails off, and it’s clear he doesn’t like how you’re reading him at the moment, grumbling, ‘None of your damn business.’

‘Hey, you watch your mouth around my lady, old man,’ warns Frankie, ratcheting up the tension again.

Squaring his shoulders, the man seems to grow two inches. ‘Or what?’

Suddenly aware of being caught in the crossfire between your protective husband on one side, and this gruff, silvered stranger on the other, heat bubbles unbidden under your skin, the unexpected reaction from your body catching you off guard.

Biting your lower lip, you clear your throat, and somehow you sound steadier than you feel when you dispense the orders. 

‘Ok, this is enough. Frankie, sit down over there,’ you say, pointing him in the direction of the couch on the other side of the room. ‘And you - since you’re Benny’s friend, two ration cards.’

‘’M not his friend,’ he almost spits out that last word, as if it tastes weird.

You give him a pointed look. ‘Three ration cards, then.’

He huffs, and hands you two from his back pocket. ‘Fine, I’m Benny’s friend.’

You grin. ‘If you’re besties, it’s one.’

‘Don’t push it.’

You back off with a chuckle. ‘Fine, not besties. Maybe next time. Now sit.’

Joel does as he’s told, awkwardly, in the styling chair, a relic from the pre-outbreak days. It creaks dangerously under his weight, and it wobbles, slightly off-kilter. The cracked leather is warm from the sun, which seeps into his skin, and he finds himself wondering when was the last time he went to a hair salon.

Sarah used to love cutting his hair. She always made an afternoon out of it on one of his rare days not working overtime, putting the music on, setting up her Barbie mirror on the dining room table, and having him pick out a hairstyle from a magazine (it never looked anywhere near like the photos). She’d even put a disposable raincoat over him like a hairdresser’s cape. She really wasn’t any good, there’s a reason why Tommy didn’t let her anywhere near his curls, but he always wore her handiwork with pride -

So lost in his thoughts, he reacts purely on instinct when, for the first time in decades, fingers other than his own find his hair.

Swivelling around, he’s out of the chair in a split second, fingers wrapped tight around your wrists. You yelp as he pushes you back against the wall, which he sees from the shape of your lips but doesn’t hear over the blood pounding in his ears.

Joel barely holds you there for a second before he’s yanked backwards by a hand on the back of his collar, and he stumbles, crashing into the adjacent wall. He barely misses the fist heading towards his face, ducking just in time to save himself what would undoubtedly have been a broken nose.

He barrels into the younger man with his shoulder, expecting him to tumble back, and is surprised when he doesn’t budge. Joel’s aware he’s got a few years on him, but he more than holds his own against punks that age on the daily. This guy clearly has a background in combat, and it’s taking Joel everything to stay on his feet.

In the meantime, you’re still plastered against the wall, dazed by your customer’s reaction. Heck, you haven’t even gotten his name yet before he literally jumped you. He’s a skittish one, that’s for sure. 

You smile at the memory of Frankie’s first time with you at the salon - he’d give this guy a good run for his money. Lucky for him, you’ve always been good at wrangling the nervous ones.

Speaking of, the two men are now literally wrestling in front of you. If you had to venture a guess by the grays in the hair, you reckon your customer is pushing fifty. He’s built like a fucking tank though, and he’s giving everything he’s got.

So you decide to watch for a little while. Boys will be boys, best leave them to let off some steam. Leaning against the wall, you get comfortable, and you think wistfully to yourself that Ashton would have loved this view.

You’re not sure how you missed that they’re both wearing denim on denim, and you would struggle to pick out which is your husband if not for the hat on his head. Yes, the damn cap survived the apocalypse with him.

They are remarkably similar in build, though your customer seems to stand just a couple of inches taller. His biceps flex and bulge through the shirt sleeves as he scuffles with Frankie, teeth bared; meanwhile, your husband plants his feet, jeans stretched tight over his adorable little ass, trying to hold the man back long enough to throw a punch.

If the room was warm when they were trading barbs, it’s positively sweltering right now.

All you can see are broad shoulders and fabric bursting at the seams, grappling fingers and clenched fists. Back muscles rippling through denim, teasing slivers of skin and soft bellies when shirttails ride up and jeans fall low. The cheerful afternoon sun kisses their skin golden, casting long shadows across the creaking wooden floor.

And they’re not quiet. Throaty grunts as they jostle, panted breath peppered with cusses, fuck’s and sons of bitches as they wrestle for control.

Suddenly, you’re the one who’s out of breath despite not moving a muscle.

As much as you would’ve loved to stand and watch, you can tell both men are starting to get winded. You don’t exactly want the show to end, entertainment is hard to come by in the QZ, let alone of such a visually stimulating variety, in your own living room. But you think you hear the older man wheeze, their shirts are now stained with sweat, and the frantic energy they started with turns heavy with lethargy.

With a rueful sigh, you speak up, ‘Frankie, come on, that’s enough now.’

He growls, ‘No fucking way. He tried to hurt you!’

‘He barely touched me. It was just his PTSD acting out.’

‘I don’t have PTSD,’ the man protests, shooting you a glare before dodging an elbow.

‘There’s no shame in having PTSD,’ you admonish him. ‘Or in getting help.’

‘Why don’t you give me a hand then?’ he scoffs, tipping his head at Frankie.

‘Yeah, looks like you can use it,’ your husband taunts him.

‘Sure you can’t, asshole? Can’t even take down an old man on your own?’

‘I hope you're hungry, 'cause you're gonna eat your words, asshole -’

Hands on hips, you roll your eyes at the exceedingly average trash talk. ‘You know what? I tried asking nicely - I’m going in.’

It’s a tight squeeze, but somehow, you find a space between the elbows and shoulders and knees, and you wedge yourself in. It’s hot and humid between the two men, who are still trying to get at each other, despite the fact that you now have one hand on each of their chests, trying to pry them apart. Trapped between the two solid walls of chest, their raw strength vibrates through you, through harsh panting breath, the musk of sweat and man, and denim rubs rough on your bare skin where you’re pressed up against them.

It’s not hard to imagine being in this position in an entirely different situation, with the axis tilted, on a softer surface. Heat prickles all over you like needles, and unbeknownst to you, your thighs press together, and your panties start to feel sticky -

‘What the fuck are you doing?’ asks Frankie, incredulous as he looms over you, still grabbing onto the other guy’s shirt.

You bat your eyelashes at him, then crane your neck over your shoulder to wink at the other man. A little spiral of a curl dangles over his eyes as he glares at you, puffs of warm air hitting the shell of your ear. 

Knowing that your best chance of breaking off this nonsense is to wildly offend both men, you purr, ‘Making a delicious sandwich ‘cause I’m famished -’

Frankie flushes bright red instantly, and he roars, ‘Get your filthy hands off my wife, son of a bitch!’

Not that his hands are anywhere near you (a tragedy), nonetheless, the man jumps five feet back, as if you burned him. He may deny Tess being his wife, but the look of absolute horror of being accused of touching you speaks volumes.

You can tell he would have doubled over catching his breath, hands on his knees, if not for his pride. Stubbornly, he stands tall, hands on hips, chest heaving.

‘Bit jumpy, are we?’ you quip.

‘You always that handsy?’ he retorts.

‘Can’t help myself with beautiful curls like yours,’ you wink, and your smile widens when he flushes.

Frankie throws up his hands in disbelief. ‘Shiv, I’m standing right here.’

‘You always are,’ you tease, pressing a kiss to his pinched lips. ‘Now, go take a walk, you've made enough of a scene.’

‘I’m not leaving you here with him -’

The older man scoffs. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not interested in your woman.’

You feign indignation. ‘Hey! That’s hurtful.’

‘You should be, jackass!’ Frankie gripes, and promptly looks as confused as the other man at his own pronouncement.

Taking his hand, you pull him towards the door. ‘Go on babe, you were going to have a drink with Pope anyway. I got everything under control.’

‘Alright,’ Frankie relents, but not before he points a menacing finger at your customer. ‘If he tries anything -’

‘I know where the gun is,’ you finish his sentence.

Pressing one final kiss to your lips and throwing a glare over your shoulder, Frankie turns and leaves - and you preen at the knowledge that he trusts you can take care of yourself.

Once the door closes, you smile. ‘So… should we start over?’

 The man snorts. ‘I’d say.’

‘I’m Shiv,’ you say, but you don’t offer him your hand. He doesn’t seem to be the handshaking type.

He picks up on your perception, studying you with curious eyes. ‘Joel.’

Pushing the swivel chair back to the styling station, you gesture at him to retake his seat, and this time, you make sure his eyes are on yours in the mirror while you stand over his shoulder.

‘Hair’s a bit long, huh?’ you remark, eyeing the ringlet over his eyes.

‘It’s drivin’ me nuts,’ he admits.

You hold up your hands this time, giving him plenty of notice. ‘May I?’

He nods, and you start small, wrapping the spiral around your index finger with a grin. ‘I wasn’t just saying it, y’know. You do have beautiful hair.’

He shifts awkwardly, the chair squeaking, obviously uncomfortable with compliments. ‘Dunno. I’m all gray and shit.’

‘As someone wise once said, grays are sexy as fuck,’ you assure him. Running your fingers through his curls, you study the texture critically, noting the blunt ends and uneven thickness. Nothing a professional haircut can’t fix. ‘Trust me, I’m very wise.’

He hums, unconvinced, but you can see the lines around his eyes crease in amusement. ‘If you say so.’

You wink at him in the mirror. ‘When I’m done with you, Tess will have the hardest time keeping her hands to herself.’

‘What makes you think she doesn’t already?’

It takes you a moment to unfreeze, stunned by his retort. At his arched eyebrow, you burst into laughter. ‘You’re a sassy one, aren’t you, Joel?’

He huffs, half-amused, and shakes his head. ‘It’s a haircut, not a miracle.’

You squeeze his shoulder, grinning when he doesn’t jump at the contact. ‘Trust me, I’m just that good at my job.’

More notes: If you enjoyed this oneshot, I wrote a series of drabbles of Shiv giving other Pedro boys haircuts - you can find them in the Grays masterlist 🩶 I may write more for this universe and some point if inspiration strikes again, thank you for reading!

And if you wanted an inspo shot of Joel's hair, here you go ❤️

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

[qsphyxias]

Nightwing x Male! Thief! Reader

if you fetishize mlm/nblm relationships, get the fuck out of here!

synopsis ; nightwing and ur dynamic, as a small, not super skilled, thief that nightwing likes

warnings ; male! reader, cussing, mention of oral sex (no actual sex at all), banter,

note ; wish i wrote smth abt nightwing's GYATTT

words ; 1.3k+

Your teeth chattered in your jaw as you continued to shovel stacks of cash from the busted vault into your gym bag. Your eyebrows furrowed in frustration as you could feel your fingers going numb from the adrenaline rushing through your hands — Faster, damn it, faster!

The emergency lights flashed a red hue on everything you saw, and you couldn't hear anything but a pulsing in your head, and quiet and light steps behind you. Knowing who it was, you only sighed and remained tense, refusing to look your assailant in the eye.

"Really, s/o?" You winced at his disappointed tone of voice, already pissed at his audacity to talk as if — "As if you have the right to judge me, Boy Wonder." You spat out, frowning as you swivelled around to see Dick Grayson, a mere inch away from you. Your gym bag rotated around you on impact and caught itself on your shoulder. The impact and the shock alone were enough to make you take a step back — but not before Dick had slipped one of his batons behind the groove of your back, pulling you towards his chest by pulling on both ends of the baton.

"It's Nightwing now, actually." He corrected, seemingly unfazed by your resentful attitude. Your dynamic usually went this way; a small fight amongst rivals and old friends, with a mutual understanding that the other is off-limits. Looking down at your irritated face, Dick only grinned wittingly and nodded towards your bag full of cash over your shoulder, "I assume... money's tight?"

You could only laugh, feigning shock, "Oh, right, I forgot you don't know what it's like to be poor because your daddy's filthy rich." With a quick shove away from his suit-bound chest, you backed away from him and started immediately looking for exits.

Dick noticed and shook his head. "Hey man, he may be a billionaire, but he doesn't give me a single penny!" Dick stepped closer to you as you stepped back, cornering you. "Can you believe that?" He muttered, his perfect hair looking like a bright shade of red from your close-up point of view underneath the hue of the emergency lights.

You looked up at him, then looked down as you considered punching him in the stomach to get away. The vigilante began eyeing your bag, taking the chance and reaching for it when you were distracted looking for his weak points.

Acting quickly, you rip the bag away from him, bolting for a closed window jumping out of it and into another rooftop of a building. Glass had flown everywhere, some of it cutting you, and some of it landing inside your shoes. Dick laughed in slight annoyance as he saw you take off, not wasting another second and going right after you. "You can't run forever! I know this bank personally, s/o, they're getting their money back!"

You don't waste time looking behind you and flip him the bird over your shoulder, leaping onto another building with a running start. Midair, you feel a strong arm wrap grab your waist and fling you around in an unknown direction — just until you reach solid ground on top of a 24/7 diner. Not used to being in the fucking air you found yourself holding onto the superhero's shoulder's in a vice grip until you let go, finding the whole situation mortifying.

"Breakfast?" Dick looked at the bright Neon sign that was below eye level from his spot on the rooftop, grinning at you so coyly; he was serious.

"It's 4 AM, Dick." You say his name like an insult, rather than a title.

Dick, however, was unfazed, having heard that joke over a thousand times in his lifetime. "Well, yeah it's midnight, but I'm hungry and— Oh shoot! I'm short on cash... S/o? Do you happen to have cash?" Nightwing crossed his arms and hummed in thought looking around like a sailor looking for land.

You could only roll your eyes at his behaviour, knowing he was serious about using the money you stole to buy himself a chicken-fried steak and a stack of pancakes.

A normal person who was to look at this man's behaviour would have instantly known he was joking; you, however, were no ordinary man. For you have known Grayson for longer than you wanted to have known him, and a couple of years' worth of time spent with the acrobat was enough information for you to know; he fucked around, but man, did he love finding out.

You felt your shoulders drop in a "why-not" attitude, and you let out a long sigh, shrugging and gesturing to jump down from the rooftop of the diner.

With a pursed lip smile, Dick hopped down and opened the diner's front door, beckoning you inside eagerly. After you got down, you rolled your eyes at him but laughed anyway, finding the situation unbelievable. "Did you want a blowjob for your chivalry?" You joked, peeking over your shoulder to catch Grayson checking out your ass from behind you.

"Why; is that an offer?" Grayson ran his tongue over his bottom lip, rapid-firing his side of the banter. The hostess stood before the two of you, watching the exchange occur uncomfortably. Despite your public profanities, she couldn't care less, it was 4 am.

"Table for two?"

——————————————————————————————————

The air was calm in the diner, it smelt of coffee — which made sense, because how else would you stay awake at this ungodly hour? You were lucky that there was no one else here; a swarm of men and women alike would have crowded around the superhero sitting before you, had it not been empty.

As you scanned the menu briefly, you couldn't help but get a little distracted at the sight of the man before you. Stealing glances above the menu, you leaned back in your side of the booth and shrunk, trying to look as if you aren't staring at him just for the sake of staring.

"I know I'm gob-stoppingly gorgeous, but be careful, you might even fall in love with me with that look." Dick snorted, dropping the menu down on the table to reveal his shit-eating grin.

"Oh fuck off," You murmured, looking away for a second only to meet his eyes again. "... So what's the plan, Dick?" Your embarrassment was soon replaced with your focus on the important matter at hand. "Are you planning not to turn me in today? Plan to take me out to dinner like one of your girls?" His attention was now completely on you, his eyes carefully watching you as you got comfortable in your cushioned seat, balancing your head on your hands as you leaned forward.

"What do you want?"

Dick gulped. "Well, I... I want a huge stack of your house buckwheat pancakes and a soda float, if you please." His demeanour shifted completely as he transformed from sexy-man to child-patron when he waved his hand over to the waitress to get her attention and his order in. "And— What, a milkshake? A milkshake for the gentleman please— And fries!" He looked back at you, "can't have a milkshake without fries, am I right?"

You could only stare blankly at him as he conversed with the waitress across the room, "Dick, look at me." getting fed up with his indifference, you reached forward to grab his jaw lightly by the tips of your fingers, angling his face to confront you. You could feel your heart skip a beat as his dark blue eyes focused on you once again.

Your breath hitched, and you nearly forgot what you wanted to say. "... The hell do you want with me now that we're here?" You repeated under your breath, watching as one of his hands reached up to grab your hand on his face.

"Well,"

"Maybe I just wanted to waste some of your time, sweetheart."

[infictionalwonderland]

PERIODS — harry lewis

pairing: harry lewis x fem!reader

warnings: periods… NOT REALLY A WARNING BUT YKKK, swearing, suggestive-ness, medication

Whoever said people your age couldn’t have sleepovers, could go and do one—because you absolutely fucking could, you and Talia proving said notion right now; your boys were off again, somewhere abroad for a sidemen shoot and leaving you and your best friend alone. Instead of getting all weepy and mopey (over a boy, never you) you and her decided to make the most out of the lack of testosterone—after you’d dropped your boyfriend off at the airport, all innocent smiles and pretty fluttering lashes, you’d zoomed off (probably breaking several speed limits) to get to your best friends new home.

When you got there, she’d opened the door with an excited screech despite expecting you and you returned it despite knowing she’d been the one to open the door. After of long embrace where she didn’t wanna let you go, you finally convinced her with the promised of pizza and brownies. Hauling your overnight bag in, you’d began your girly night—music booming, comfy clothes on, gossip upon gossip and so many laughs your whole body was in tatters as you made pizzas and brownies (admittedly, hers were better but she was literally Mario’s second cousin, it’s to be expected)

Food in hands and smiles never leaving your faces, you’d taken off into a race into a race for the living room (you won, obviously) and began your evening of movie watching—from 10 things i hate about you to It, then legally blonde and Tangled, and many more, . . .you had quite the night. However both of your highlights was when you discovered you both started your cycles on that particular day—before your boyfriends had left and around basically the same times: it had you both in tear inducing laughter for two minutes. You’d ended up taking a Polaroid of you both grinning while holding up Flow (the period tracker app) and showing you both having the exact same cycles.

Twins.

That was yesterday—now you were both lying in a miserable heap of pain and exhaustion in Talia’s king size bed, hot water bottles on your abdomens and remaining snacks being shovelled into your mouths as you both snuggled and occupied yourselves on your phones.

You smiled slightly when your boyfriends name popped up over TikTok but grimaced afterwards as your stomach turned horribly.

harry🤍

gd mornin xx yu okay luv ?

me

you’re actually illiterate

harry🤍

and you can’t punctuate, we all have are own flaws. anyway i hope ur good, we’re landing at 3, want me to pick u up anything?

You grinned wider, deciding to piss about.

me

yeah actually can you get me some jumbo tampons!! thank youuu x

harry🤍

what. they do JUMBO? i mean thats, at least their being inclusive. good on em 👍 wait bloody hell love, you’re on again already? swear i don’t know how you still have blood in ya

me

yeah it happens to be a monthly thing, harry. 😄😄😄😄😄 also im with my gf so you might have to whisk me away before me elope xxxxx

harry🤍

she’d get you a shitty ring anyway i’ll get in simons lift home then and you can drop us off. … i love you, gotta go, see you soon gorgeous

me

love you too smelly 😜

You looked over at Talia at, miraculously, the same time she looked up at you and when she wordlessly showed you her phone, showcasing messages of her asking Simon for XXL pads, you gasped laughingly and showed her your messages to Harry. She made a shocked face before meeting your eye and you both burst out laughing, only to groan as you ached all fucking over.

“I hate being a women.”

It was now half two and while Talia was effectively making your day better—you both were still in immense pain. You’d migrated to every living room (you loved it so much, you could cry) and both had a sofa to yourself, Mushu (their adorable dog) was nipping at some toy from where he was sat by the telly. You both were on your phones for the most part, last nights episode of Love Island that you’d absently recorded now playing on the TV as you both munched away on the breakfast Talia got delivered—McDonald’s breakfast for you and she had a spiced cheesy omelette from this little breakfast place.

“When do you think Harrys gonna ask. .?” Talia looked at you from her place on the sofa, wiggling her ringed finger mischievously with a glittering smile, one hand still firmly against her stomach.

“Probably never.”

“Bullshit!” She shot back instantly, sitting up and pointing firmly in your direction as she ignored the pain she was in in favour of reassuring you. “Babe, you have not seen the way that man looks at you when he thinks no one is looking. Like, seriously, he has literal heart eyes for you and don’t even get me started on how he speaks about you. It’s like your the best thing in this entire world to him, really. Like you’re some kinda goddess or somethin’ he always looks so awestruck by you.”

“. .probably cause I cook him dinner.” You offered with a shrug, smiling lopsidedly, and Talia snorted with a head shake.

“Or you are his dinner.”

“I mean, he does—“

“Ah! WAIT, NO. Stop, no more, please.”

You grinned at her, sparing a wink before cooing at Mushu happily and urging him to jump up on you, which he did. Your entire demeanour seemed to soften as you wrapped your arms around the large grey ball of fluff.

“He’ll probably ask you soon.”

“Natalia.” You threw her a mock serious look and she put her hands up in a surrender motion, finding herself all too funny.

“What—have you seen you?” Talia retorted, faking a dreamy sigh as she readjusted herself on the plush material of her sofa. “I’d kiss you, marry you and fuck you. Repeatedly.”

“Miss Mar. . .” You jokingly trailed off.

“Have my babies?”

“I thought you’d never ask!”

“We should really do this more often.” Talia pouted at you, friendly love bright in her irises as she pulled her blanket more around her body. “I miss hanging with you, sexy bum.”

“Miss you more, baby cakes.” You winked at her dramatically, mouth falling open just like Fred Weasley and she giggled back at you, snapping a candid photo.

“Speaking of babies—“

“NATALIA HADDOCK.”

Approaching four o’clock was when your boyfriends finally rolled up—you and Talia didn’t actually notice at first, you were both laying down on the living room floor with Mushu next to you and a mediation video on the large screen, giggles slipping past your lips even as you attempted to be quiet. You would’ve sat up but considering your cramps. . .‘twas a no go.

“Keep your fake lips shut, Cruella.”

Talia squawked in offence at your comment but kept her eyes shut for the purpose of mediation, blindly lifting a manicured hand to swat at you.

In that moment, your boyfriends both walked through the door, trading odd looks at the silence in the home (if there was anything you and Talia were together, it was not silent). Simon lead Harry through the house, more confused than anything to where his fiancé was but when they heard whooshing sounds from the living room, they both stopped uncertainly.

Harry quickly picked up a random umbrella from where they were sat, just in case.

However, when you hesitantly stalked into the living room they didn’t expect to see both of their girlfriends laying sprawled across the floor in starfish position with a mediation video playing on the large TV. They both paused, trying to repress their amusement and Harry instantly got out his phone—zooming into you to take some photos.

“Feeling zen, yet?” Simon inquired.

“So zen.” You both confirmed, simultaneously.

There was silence for no more than a second before you and Talia both let out startled exclamations and sat up straight—immediately groaning out in pain after as your stomach cramped and ached (day 2 was your personal worst day for pain/cramps).

“Woah. Woah, woah.” Simon paused at the in sync groans of pain, “listen. . .I know you both have like, interlinked emotions but please don’t tell me you can feel what the other feels?!”

“Boy.” Talia gave him a deadpan stare.

“Help.” You urged your boyfriend, reaching out your hands expectantly and he rolled his eyes fondly as he walked over to you, large hands taking your smaller ones in his own and he tugged you up from the ground, one of his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you into him. “Hey stranger.”

“Hey.” Harry mumbled back, grinning widely as he pulled you flush against him, digging his head endearingly into the crook of your neck and leaving two swift kisses, your sweet aroma surrounding him and clouding his thoughts as you hummed, running your fingers through his short hair.

“No PDA in my house!” Simon exclaimed.

“Shush,” Talia tutted—unimpressed with her fiancé, “don’t listen to him. Harry, kiss my girl all you want just. . nothing more, preferably.”

“She’s not your girl.”

“Am I not?” You played clueless, faking a confused look at him before going to step over to your best friend, only for him to tug you back against him, large, muscled arms wrapping around your front to hold you back.

“Disgusting.” Simon blanched. “Do that in your own home, please.”

You and Talia both rolled your eyes in sync: you turned your head to smile up at your boyfriend, pressing a loving peck to his soft lips and then his bicep before gently tugging his arms off you, getting ready to say bye to your friends.

“Bye beautiful.” Talia grinned, her arms coming to wrap around you with a careful tightness. “I love you, let me know if you need anything—also, we should really really do this again soon. I love spending time with you.”

Feeling your heart warm, you smiled back at her genuinely. “I love spending time with you too, Lia. Next time we can make lasagna and cupcakes. . .the Tom and Jerry ones.”

Talia squealed slightly, pulling away from your hug to press kisses to both your cheeks and then your forehead.

“You’re the best. Miss ya’ already.”

“Missing you more.”

A few minutes later, you and Harry were finally out of the mini-mar household. Your boyfriend had finally resigned to carrying you when you had fully stopped walking and hunched over slightly in pain from your cramps—he’d sighed, like the tired boyfriend he was, then gently picked you up bridal style and ignored Talia’s obnoxious awes and how she took several pictures.

(She totally didn’t put them on her story)

“Spoiled princess, ‘s what you are.” Harry shook his head jokingly as he carefully put you down in the passenger side of your own car that he was driving cause you were in pain.

“Ain’t that the truth.”

He grinned at you, looking up through his lashes as he did your seatbelt for you, one of his large arms caging you in and the the other free arm reaching over your lower half to tug the seatbelt tighter. He looked similar to an angel in that moment—sun illuminating his features, those fucking blue eyes you were a sucker for and you felt a trail of sparks on the skin his hand purposefully brushed over.

“That tight enough?” Harry inquired, cheekily.

“So tight.” You responded with a snicker of your own and he rolled his eyes at you, tugging a strand of your hair briefly and you feigned a dramatic wince as he left you, shutting the door to your side and climbing in the drivers side.

You looked over, rolling down your window readily as you knew what was coming—when your car started to take off, Talia opened up the window closest to the driveway, popping out her head with a gorgeous gleaming smile.

“BYE BYE BEAUTIFUL, I HOPE YOU FEEL BETTER SOON!”

“BYE GORGEOUS—SAME GOES FOR YOU, CALL ME!”

As you did the ‘call me’ symbol with your hand and gave her a dramatic wink, she giggled before ducking her head back indoors.

“Might as well date her.”

“Might just, y’know.” You smiled at him sweetly, turning on the radio for background noise like you always did, “Smells a lot than my current partner anyway?”

“He can’t be that bad!”

“No, really, he stinks of piss.”

“I beg you fu—“

He cut himself off, grin faltering as he heard you wince in pain, frowning softly as he looked over at you.

“Hanging in there alright?”

“Mhm.” You hummed, smiling tensely.

“I got you something.” Harry mentioned, peering over at you and when he saw you looking him with that adorably confused look, he nudged his head backwards and your eyes followed—landing on the Tesco bag in the backseat.

“My jumbo tampons?” You cackled to yourself.

“No—I did look though—“ Your laughter increased in volume, ignoring the aching pain overcoming you as best you could, “Oh—Oh. I see now, they aren’t a thing. You played me.”

“What? No, never.”

“I smell deceit.”

“I smell piss. Oh, wait, it’s just you.”

You giggled at yourself and while he tried to playfully glare at you, he couldn’t quite keep his smile at bay as he stared at you.

Curiously, you reach behind you and tug the Tesco bag from its space in the back, lugging it into your lap and opening it up—your mouth immediately pops open in an awww when you take in the two sets of cupcakes, your favourite chocolate bars, the sanitary products and some pain medication.

“Harry. .”

“Don’t mention it, I beg.” A sheepish crimson blush coats his pale cheeks at your tone and your evident heart eyes. Jesus Christ, were you pretty. He was so lucky to be able to call you his, that much he knew for sure.

“Thanks, handsome.”

“Yeah, yeah anytime man.”

You arch a brow.

“Anytime, love.” Harry corrects, flashing you an equal parts amused and sarcastic smile as you nod your approval to the changing pet name.

When you finally arrive back at your apartment complex—Harry’s already out of his side of the car as soon as it stops, and then he goes over to you, opening your door and looking down at you. He lets at a dramatic heaving sigh at your doe eyed look, scolding his skin for flushing and heart for picking up.

Effortlessly, he takes the bag off your hands with one hand and pulls you from the car with the other, once you’re out the car he lifts you up easily with one arm and you wrap your legs around his hips, arms around his neck.

“Hi.” You mumble, grinning mischievously as your acrylics scratch at his beard.

“My pretty troublemaker.” Harry huffs affectionately, squinting down at your bright smile fuelled by mischief. “Don’t you dare bring attention to us, this is embarrassing enough.” He nearly whines.

You merely smile, a kiss to his cheek to tide over his anxieties.

The walk was going pretty smoothly, but as soon as Harry stepped foot into the elevator, another set of footsteps followed and his eyes shut miserably, leaning down and sighing into your neck hopelessly.

“Hi Effie!” You immediately perk up at the sight of the older woman—Effie was this sweetheart fifty six year old who lived on the floor below you and Harry, a vast lover of plants and animals with a hatred for men (you loved her, Harry was scared of her).

Harry barely refrains for niping at the soft skin of your neck in reprimand. Of bloody course.

“Hello dearie.” The older woman, hair a dyed purple shade and silver septum hanging from her button nose, greets you with a calm smile. Effie was evidently unfazed by the scene in front of her—if anything, she was proud that you were putting your man to work. “How are you today?”

“Oh I’m grand, Ef.” You smiled so charmingly that as Harry stared down at you, he almost forgot he was even supposed to be annoyed. “How are you? How’s Tia, I miss her!”

“I’m well, thank you, dearie. Tia misses you too, I assure you. Perhaps you come down tonight, I can bake us some cookies just how you like them.”

Harry paused, bewildered. Did his girlfriend just get hit on by a grandma?!

“I—“

Before you could even get a word out, the elevator dinged open to your floor and Harry wasted now time practically sprinting out with his arms possessively entangled around your frame; you quickly exclaimed a startled ‘bye Effie’ over your boyfriends shoulder before the elevator doors shut.

You quickly distracted yourself with how you could feel your boyfriends muscular biceps as he held you up, your acrylics took to touching and tracing them as he bounced you up further on his hip. You closed your eyes, leaning further into him and humming at the delightful scent of his cologne, the soothing vibrations of his body as he quietly chatted away helping to dull the aches in your own body.

“You alright there, y/n?”

“Never been better.” You smiled up at him and he gives you an amused one back, kissing your forehead softly as he finally opens the door to your shared apartment—once inside, he readily manoeuvres the both of you to the sofa where he carefully places you down, handing you the bag of food and your favourite blanket he spots on the lone armchair. “Thank youuu.”

“Spoiled princess.” He names again, but the smile on his face is enough to melt you despite his words.

Harry then goes into the kitchen as you try and adjust on the sofa more comfortably, face screwing up as a particularly harsh pain washes through you—your abdomen clenching. To distract yourself, you search through the Tesco bag and smile to yourself as you take out the first batch of muffins.

You mindlessly click onto WhatsApp, taking a photo of the bag of goodies and sending it to the girls groupchat with a little ‘make your men do this for you, pretty ladies’ and instantly being met with gushing from them all.

“Showing off my expert shopping skills?”

You startle—gaze flickering to your boyfriend who smiles at you, that smile he saves just for you and it makes you feel so special and warm every time. Your eyes dart over him, noticing the hot water bottle he now clutches (you love that hot water bottle—it’s got this absolutely adorable cover of a lama).

Fucking hormones, you think, as you feel a wave of emotion hit you at how much he’s done for you.

“Hey,” Harry noticed the quivering frown you now adopted and internally panicked, did I do something? Hot water bottle in hand, he hurried towards you, kneeling down on the floor beside where you were laying and twirling a pierce of your hair around his finger. “Hey. What’s wrong, love, hm? You in pain?”

“Yeah.” You answer him shakily, that’s not why your suddenly upset. “I love you.”

If he’s confused—he doesn’t show it, he merely smiles at you comfortingly, leaning in to gently press a kiss to your lips.

“I love you more.”

You smile up at him and his face softens completely at you—he’s so fucking in love. And yes, these thoughts of his are incredibly soppy, but, he couldn’t help it. The girl of his dreams, the love of his life, the prettiest person in the world, was currently staring at him like he hung the moon and the stars. . . he’d never tire of your beautiful face, your radiant smile that flustered him every damn time.

When you move so he can slide in behind you, he eagerly takes the invitation. He slots in behind you on the sofa, pulling you atop him with your back against his chest; he takes the hot water bottle, your favourite one, and carefully moves up your shirt before pressing it against your lower stomach and keeping his hands there to hold it in place, pressing a thoughtless yet meaningful kiss to the side of your head and you snuggle back into him.

“Oi, give me a bite.”

“Fuck off, it’s my scran.”

“Yeah—and who’s card did it make a dent in?”

“Our card, handsome.”

“. . . Spoiled princess.”

And that’s how you spend most of the rest of your day—intertwined limbs, goofy grins, soft kisses and joking insults.

(He’s never been more in love)

[starlemonbunki]

Ranpo loves praise♡

Bottom!RANPO X Top!Fem!READER

| Praise kink, use of "Mommy" and "Baby", submissive Ranpo, creampie |

Ranpo loves praise.

It's so cute seeing a man who seemed so sure of himself be absolutely ruined just by a couple kind words.

Just a little compliment here and there, and Ranpo was putty in your hands.

It was dark that night, the only light coming from the moon itself as it danced its way in through the window. It crept up the floorboards until it reached the two of you.

Ranpo was deep inside of you, fucking you slowly and desperately. He knelt between your legs, his grip loosening and hardening against your thighs, keeping them apart lazily. His eyes were barely open, and in the darkness you saw only bright green slits staring back at you, awaiting your approval.

"Such a good boy, Ranpo, dear..." you cooed, finding the tired rhythm of his movements sweet and cute. He was such a baby, your baby after all. All he wanted all day was your pussy, especially after you'd been teasing him all day with those thigh highs that cupped the fat on your legs beautifully. Several times throughout the day, he thought he was going to cum on the spot everytime you leaned over to hand him some paperwork, or gently caressed your thighs knowing he was watching, or simply walking past, allowing your sweet aroma to fill his nose and in turn his dirty thoughts. But he made it, he was good, and he went the whole day without cumming or jerking off. That deserved a reward.

"Ahn, ah, M-Mommy..." He whined, his approval battery suddenly drained so quickly, desperately asking for more of your delicious praise.

"Yes, Baby?" You asked, as if you didn't already know what he wanted.

"M-Mommy, am-am I doing g-good?" He asked as he tried thrusting into you faster, hoping to please you more. Silly boy, just the thought of him not being enough for you was torture for him. He needed validation, he needed your praise.

"Yes, dear, you're doing so good..." you cupped his cheek with your hand, caressing him lovingly. "So good for me, such a good boy..."

"M-Ma...Mommy...." He moaned, slowly reaching his limit.

That's when you decided to bring in the big guns.

"Such a good boy, Ranpo, fucking me so well. So good for me, so good for Mommy...." you added a couple moans here and there, making sure your voice was as sultry as possible, knowing it made Ranpo go crazy.

His hips started stuttering and his grip on your thighs tightened. "M-Mom-Mommy!! Hah, hah...Mommy!!" He whimpered as he slowly reached his release.

That's when you started tingling all over, his cock reaching your sweet spot more and in a faster pace, you held onto his back to keep him close as you both came together.

Ranpo was breathing heavily now, thrusting in slowly, just once or twice, savoring what was left of that feeling, before slowly pulling out with a grunt.

He looked beneath him to find your pretty little pussy, liquids shining in the moonlight like wet little stars. His cum spilled out of you, overfilling your hole nicely. You put on your panties and let down the nightshirt that had been previously pulled up above your breasts, pulling your beloved into a sweet goodnight kiss.

Ranpo finally caught his breath within your mouth. "Please," He pleaded. "One more?"

"No, no, we have work in the morning, remember?" You said, watching him pout like a spoiled little child, it was so cute to see.

"Reeaaally?" He asked again as you pulled him into the covers. "Yes, really, now go to bed, Kunikida-san will yell at you for making us late."

"Why would it be my fault?!" He whined.

"Cause I'm blaming you, of course!" You teased. "Plus, I'm the one who has to shovel cum out of my pussy and take a pill tomorrow, it's only fair."

"Fine." He pouted, getting under the covers to go to sleep.

"But I know you're just doing this just so I'll be extra horny tomorrow."

"Ah, so I guess you don't need those glasses to deduct me."

"Of course! I'm the greatest detective, you know!"

"Of course dear. Goodnight."

"Hmmph. Goodnight."

As Ranpo slowly fell deeper into his sleep, you caressed him, twisting and twirling his black hair around your fingers as you silently read your book.

Ranpo sure does love praise.