#cry about it fuckstain

[askthefivefallen]

Ass, here are a list of my favorite names and insults to call people, do with them as you will.

• “(they) make your nipples stink when (they) suck/s them.” i.e. “why are you crying over a man who makes your nipples stink when he sucks them?”

• “(they) are built like a (insert random object)” I.e. “they’re built like the Eiffel Tower”

• fuck-ass

• Bootlicker (use only when someone takes the side of the police or authority figure, could be sarcastically used for people taking Chief’s side)

Feel free to add to the list!

A: "Hey, I love these! I do have a few I like to use: shambling shitwank, crusty cumdumpster, thumbfucker- I'm starting to realize a lot of these have a sexual connotation. I don't mean them that way. I think I just need to get laid. Dunno."

A: "Anyway! There's also the ol' reliables of shitass, fuckstain, headass- the list is endless. If I have to be somewhat polite about it, though, I might say someone has two stripes and no kills- since all us Exorcists have two stripes on our wings and we're made to, ya know, kill Sinners, the underlying implication is that the person's useless. Or, if I have to be careful about it, I might ask where the other wings are- basically, all us lower angels only have two wings, and it's not like you get promoted into being a Seraphim! But, if someone's actin' all high and mighty, I like to remind 'em they really aren't any better than me."

A: "Remember, when it comes to insults, you have to tailor it to the individual. Adam always got pissed when I called him Mr. Two Strikes- he hated being reminded that his first wife ran off on him and his second also bailed the first chance she could- and a couple more times, too! Be creative! Hasn't got me smote yet!"

[wyrmguardsecrets]

You are 100% correct that I'm intolerant of people who actively vote to destroy the planet, to take away the rights of people who are different from themselves, and who don't give a single fuck about how their actions and desires affect anyone but themselves. Intolerant and proud. Go fuck off to your safe space blog and cry more, you fuckstains.

[lovingzombiechaos]

The Mulligan-Chapter 3

Chapter One Chapter Two AO3

As always, my fics are NSFW.

Word Count: 1200 Summary: Mulligan:  a free shot sometimes given to a golfer in informal play when the previous shot was poorly played. Tags: @a-distantdreamer, @vizhi0n, @dusty-cookie, @theonethatgotaway213, @kinkozan, @negans-network

NEGAN

Fingers slid down the length of his bare back, sending shivers juddering across his skin and leaving goosebumps behind. He brushed the hand away and burrowed himself just a little deeper into the coverlet, hoping whichever one of his wives would take the fucking hint and fucking leave.

His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and his head pounded in protest to the sounds of female ministrations. Tugging on the covers, tickling his neck, shaking his shoulder. He shoved the hand off him and growled, “Fucking. Fuck. Off. Now.”

A tinkling laugh came from behind him and an unfamiliarly familiar voice whispered in his ear, “You need to get up, asshole, or you’re going to be late.”

For a split second, he thought it was Nayna. But Nayna was back in Alexandria and her voice was much higher and sweeter than the gentle, husky tones tickling his cheek. It sounded more like…no, it was just his stupid fucking mind playing tricks on him. How much had he fucking drank last night?

He grunted in response. The fingers glided over his jaw down to his chin and down to tangle in the fuzz of his chest and tugged.

“You’re going to be late,” the voice sang.

He decided to indulge whoever the fuck it was. “Late for fucking what?”

“Work.” The voice sounded a little less patient, but still fucking annoying.

With his eyes still closed, he rubbed and hand down his face, down his stubbled jaw. Fuck, he really needed a shave. And she needed to fucking go. The mattress shifted behind him as the woman moved closer.

“Fucking go get me a glass of water and some fucking advil.”

“Excuse me? Go get it yourself, lazy ass.”

Well, fuck, maybe it was Nayna. God that woman could be a fucking bitch sometimes.

“Neeeegan. Come on, sweetie.” The covers were pulled back, throwing him into a violent torrent of cold air.

It was enough for him to get pissed enough to roll over and pry his eyes open.

He stared up at the dark-haired beauty before him. Her curly hair framed her oval shaped face. She wore a slightly pinched, harried look, though her dark eyes were the same. Deep and sweet and loving. He inhaled sharply and his nose was filled with the tangy scent of her lemony shampoo. A scent he hadn’t smelled in such a long time.

It couldn’t be real. She was dead. Gone. He’d sat with her in that fucking hospital until she’d breathed her last. And then he’d left her there.

Jesus fucking dickfuck, how much did he fucking drink?

Negan reached out and touched the warm, tanned skin of her cheek. She couldn’t be real, as much as he wanted her to. Her brows furrowed in confusion as he traced a trembling path down to her chest and his palm pressed against her heart. The steady thunking reassured him and he sat up, jerking her into his arms.

“Negan?”

He buried his face in her hair. “Fucking fuck. I…Fuck. Lucille…”

Lucille slid her arms around his shoulders. “Babe? What is it?”

He wasn’t thinking anything aside from her folded into his arms.

“You’re alive,” he murmured into her hair.

She pushed on his shoulders and rocked back onto her calves, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her elfin ear. “Babe? Are you okay?”

He held her by the waist and drank her in, mesmerized at the mere sight of her. His thumbs pressed into her rib cage. She was warm and solid. And fucking his.

She reached over and brushed a forelock of hair from his face. “Did you have a nightmare?”

He leaned forward and laid his cheek on her shoulder. “In a fucking manner of speaking.”

She coiled her hands into his hair, stroking the nape of his neck, just the way she always had before. “Tell me.”

How could he explain the fuckstain of shit? Had it even fucking been real? Fuck, if he told her, she’d lock him in a goddamn mental institution. And she wouldn’t fucking be wrong about it either.

He didn’t want to think about it. He just wanted his wife. He pulled her in, covering her mouth with his, drinking her in, tasting her minty toothpaste as her lips glided over his. Their kiss was everything he remembered and everything he missed.

He reached down and crumpled her shirt in his hands, pulling up and over her tummy, over her breasts. She grabbed his wrist and pulled back, giving him that look. The look that signified she wanted him, but she was still hesitant.

She started pulling her shirt down, but he snaked a hand between the fabric of her bra and the material of her shirt. A sigh escaped her lips. “Negan, you’re going to be late for work. So am I.”

He murmured across the skin of her collarbone. “Don’t fucking care about work. I just want you.”

Her fingers traced the curve of his ear. “Negan…”

He caught her lips again. “I fucking need you. I want you. I love you.”

She relaxed and sighed, breathing into his mouth. “What about the mortgage?”

“Fuck the mortgage, Lucille. Fuck the house. Fuck everything. Except you.” He pulled away and tore her shirt from her body.

She laughed…No, giggled. A sound he hadn’t heard from her in…years? Months? Days? He no longer knew what day it was or if he was dreaming.

If he was dreaming, he would kill the fucking man who woke him and took him away from…his wife.

She smiled at him, kissing him before shaking him off her. “I’ll be right back.”

Once the door shut behind, he buried his face in his hands.

His head pounded even more fiercely than before and he felt a panic rising in his chest. What if this was just a fucking dream? He didn’t know if he could fucking go through losing her again.

A small part of his brain asked What about Nayna?

“Babe?”

He looked up into Lucille’s confused eyes, filled with that soft glimmer as well. And in them he saw his second chance to be everything she needed and wanted.

He fell to his knees and practically crawled to her.

“Negan! What in the world?” She put her hands on the top of his head as he wrapped his arms around her slim waist and buried his face into her stomach.

“Babe, you’re shaking. Tell me what the fuck is wrong!” Her voice was full of urgency and he leaned back to gaze into her beautiful face. She swiped her fingers over his cheek. “You’re crying. Negan, you’re fucking scaring me!”

“I had a dream,” he said, his voice hoarse, “that you died. That I lost you. I…I’m a fucking asshole. A piece of dogshit. You deserve so much better, but I fucking love the hell out of you. I want to be that fucking man you deserve, Lucille.”

“Babe…”

“I only need one fucking thing from you.”

“What?” She frowned at him, the space between her eyebrows wrinkling.

He gave her his most sincere, endearing, pleading look. “You have to go to the fucking doctor.”