#she's trying to get me to feed her hours before its time to be fed | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mjonthetrack · 1 month ago

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bell book II

Chapter Eighteen “It’s Just Lunch, Muscles.”

Tiffany had already pulled out plates by the time Luis kicked his boots off at the door and settled into her kitchen with that damn slow, confident gait of his. Like he owned the place. Like he hadn’t just been told he was getting kicked out as soon as she finished chewing.

She raised a brow, plating the food with a practiced flick of her wrist and an annoyed lip curl. She slid a cold glass of her blueberry lemonade across the counter toward him and glared over it.

“It’s just lunch, muscles,” she warned, her voice flat. “And then you’re on the streets again, Martinez.”

Luis smirked, those lips twitching like he was holding back a laugh. He said nothing, just picked up the lemonade and took a slow sip, watching her with that infuriatingly unreadable expression. Tiffany tried not to notice the way his forearms flexed when he lifted the glass. Or how his curls were a little messy from the heat outside.

“Mm,” he muttered, nodding with approval. “Aight, you got hands. That lemonade hit.”

“Of course it does. I don’t do weak anything.”

She turned and stalked into the living room before he could get another smooth line out. She moved toward the farthest end of the sectional couch, curled up on her side, and grabbed the remote. Space. Boundaries. Walls. All that.

Luis sat down on the other side, watching her with amusement but keeping to her rules—for now.

“TV’s mine,” she said sharply.

“Wouldn’t dream of touching it, princesa.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Mm. Then stop acting like one.”

She shot him a sharp look, but it lost its sting as the horror parody flick started playing. The ridiculous over-the-top screams, bad prosthetics, and bootleg CGI blood splatters were exactly what she needed after the week she’d had. And exactly the kind of thing she always threw on during her solo nights in.

Luis didn’t say anything. Just started on his plate, legs stretched out comfortably, his knee almost but not quite brushing hers.

Tiffany picked up her taco, took one bite—and her eyes rolled closed as the flavors hit.

“Fuck,” she moaned low, mouth still full as she chewed. “It’s actually good.”

Luis didn’t move, but she could feel the grin on his face. That smug energy radiated off him like steam. She refused to look at him. Refused to let him see her weakness.

She took another bite. “I’m still not impressed.”

“Sure, mami. That’s why you didn’t even wait for me to sit down before you were moaning into that taco.”

She narrowed her eyes but didn’t respond, just chewed slowly and reached for her lemonade. Her curls bounced slightly as she tilted her head.

“Just lunch,” she repeated coolly.

Luis leaned back with a soft laugh, watching her like a man studying a rare, dangerous animal.

“If you say so.”

The movie played on, but there was tension building that had nothing to do with poorly written horror. It was in the way her leg brushed his once, then didn’t move. In the second glance she gave him over her glass. In the quiet between bites and banter.

And neither one of them acknowledged it.

Not yet.

Chapter Nineteen “You Don’t Even Know What You Do to Me, Do You?”

Tiffany sat prettily—curled up on her corner of the couch like she hadn’t just tried to evict him the second she fed him. Bare legs folded, her oversized tee slipping just enough to show the slope of one shoulder and the curve of her thigh. Her gold anklet caught the light every time she shifted. Her curls were tied up, but wild strands had fallen loose, framing her cheekbones.

Luis tried not to stare. Failed immediately.

Every part of her screamed princesa, but not the fragile, fake kind. No, this was a woman who could break a man down and patch him up in the same hour. One hand would wreck you, the other would feed you. She had pretty girl written all over her, but the bite in her voice said try me.

And God, he wanted to.

The horror parody played on the screen, ridiculous and chaotic, but Luis hadn’t looked at it in the last fifteen minutes. His attention had narrowed to the soft curve of her jaw, the slow way she licked lemon from her bottom lip, the unconscious flex of her thigh as she leaned to grab her drink.

Tiffany caught him staring. Didn’t say a word. Just took another bite of her taco and chewed slowly, eyes on the screen, pretending like she hadn’t clocked every inch of his attention.

He didn’t speak until she put the plate down, wiped her hands, and reached for the remote.

“You don’t even know what you do to me, do you?” he said, low, voice roughened at the edges.

Tiffany glanced at him over her shoulder, lips curling into a slow smirk. “Enlighten me, Martinez.”

Luis didn’t answer with words. He leaned forward, slow and certain, and brushed his hand over her bare calf—just enough to feel the warmth of her skin under his calloused palm. Her lashes fluttered. She didn’t pull away.

“I see you in scrubs, I want to feed you. I see you in heels, I want to chase you. I see you curled up like this…” His hand slid higher, fingertips pressing just behind her knee. “I don’t wanna go anywhere. Not for a minute.”

Her throat worked as she swallowed. That was all the reaction he got, but it was enough.

Tiffany scoffed softly, though there was no heat in it. “You always talk like that? No wonder girls fall for that New York mouth.”

“I ain’t tryna make anyone fall,” he said simply. “I’m just tellin’ the truth.”

He reached for her without asking, large hand resting at her waist as he drew her back toward him, slowly. She allowed it. Didn’t mean to—but her body betrayed her, leaning with the ease of someone who’d been waiting to be touched again. His arm slid around her middle, pulling her until her back was flush against his chest and she was sitting between his legs, breathing shallow.

“You comfortable?” she asked, voice soft, but her sarcasm still clinging to the edge of it.

“Hell yeah.” He nuzzled into her curls. “Smell like brown sugar and trouble.”

Tiffany exhaled, slow and shaky. She didn’t move, didn’t fight the hand that settled on her thigh or the heat pooling low in her belly.

“You got two hours before your ass is back on the street,” she muttered.

Luis laughed against her neck. “Bet.”

But neither one of them moved. Not for a while.

Chapter Twenty “Then Why You Still Here, Princesa?”

The movie played on, but the plot had long since faded to background noise.

Tiffany was stiff at first—legs tucked and arms crossed, like she was resisting something inevitable. But Luis wasn’t a man who pushed too fast. He just let his hand linger at her thigh, fingers drawing slow, lazy patterns against the warmth of her skin while he kept his body close behind her.

The rhythm of his touch changed after a while—gentle circles becoming firmer, more deliberate. Her breath caught when he brushed higher, his fingertips dipping under the hem of the oversized tee, against her bare thigh.

Her leg twitched, muscles tightening, but she didn’t pull away.

“You good?” he asked, voice soft against her ear, low and intimate. That rasp in it? That Brooklyn-laced warmth wrapped in molasses? It was a problem.

“I’m…” she started, but her voice failed her when his fingers dragged lightly over the sensitive skin between her thighs, teasing but not quite taking.

Tiffany’s hand caught his wrist—not to push him away, just to hold him there.

“M-Martinez…” she breathed, her words catching as he applied just enough pressure to make her hips shift without thinking. Her eyes fluttered closed. Her breath hitched again.

His mouth curved against the crown of her head. “You were sayin’ something?”

She swallowed hard. Her head rolled back against his shoulder, her curls spilling over his chest. “I don’t do second times,” she hissed, voice tight like she was trying to hold the line even as it dissolved under his hands.

Luis chuckled, the sound warm, low, and smug against her ear. “Then why you still here, princesa?”

He moved his hand again, slow but with purpose, watching her jaw tighten, the soft noise caught in her throat swallowed down but not erased. She turned her face slightly, and he took the opportunity to kiss her jaw—open-mouthed and slow. A worship, not a demand.

“You came to the door in my shirt,” he murmured between kisses. “Fed me like you ain't fed nobody in a minute. Kept the flowers I brought. And now…”

His hand slid higher. Her breath shuddered out of her chest.

“…now you sittin’ here lettin’ me touch you like this.”

Her fingers gripped his thigh tightly now, anchoring herself.

“That don’t feel like one-and-done to me, baby.”

Tiffany cursed under her breath, every line she’d drawn between them smudging and blurring fast.

“You’re too damn smooth,” she muttered, breathless.

He smiled against her ear. “Nah. You just too damn fine.”

Her body betrayed her again—arching, melting, her hips shifting into his touch without thinking.

Whatever warning she wanted to give, whatever distance she meant to keep—it was gone. She leaned into him like she’d been made for it.

And when her hand reached back to pull his face to hers, Luis kissed her like he’d been waiting a lifetime for the second time she swore wouldn’t happen.

Because he knew— It was always gonna happen again.

Chapter Twenty-One “We’re Done After This.”

It was messy. Of course it was.

Tiffany’s moans were muffled into the couch cushion, her teeth clenched around fabric as her fingers clawed at the armrest. Her curls were wild, sweat clinging to the nape of her neck, the oversized t-shirt long discarded somewhere across the living room floor. The TV still blared the horror parody, untouched and forgotten, because the real chaos was right there on the couch—her bare, trembling frame braced as Luis moved behind her with an intensity that made the world blur.

He didn’t say much. Didn’t need to. The only sounds from him were the low, steady breaths, the short growls when she clenched around him, the occasional mutter in Spanish that sounded too reverent to be anything less than worship.

His hand was firm on the back of her neck—not cruel, not forcing—just there, anchoring her, claiming her without a single word.

Tiffany’s breath shuddered out of her, hips arching into him, jaw clenched as she gritted through it like she hated how good it was. Like she hated how it wasn’t enough to stop.

“Luis—” she snapped, her voice cracking, but not to push him away. If anything, she only moved back harder into him.

“Say it again,” he hissed low, his hand sliding from her waist to grip her hip tighter, possessive.

“I said—” she ground out, head dropping lower, her body barely holding itself together. “After this, we’re done.”

He laughed.

That deep, knowing laugh that shook his chest and rolled down his back like thunder.

“Mmhmm,” he grunted, not even slowing, leaning down so his chest brushed her back, lips brushing her ear.

“You said that last time too, princesa.”

Tiffany bit down on a groan, frustration warring with the pleasure he kept dragging out of her.

“I mean it this time,” she gasped, face hot, her voice shaking from the effort not to come undone too fast.

Luis didn’t answer. Just gripped her a little tighter, a little deeper, and kissed the side of her neck with a lazy hunger that made her toes curl into the couch cushions.

She tried again. “I mean it, Martinez.”

“Yeah?” he said, his voice rough but amused. “So what’s this then, huh? Goodbye sex?”

“Shut up.”

“Nah. Say it. Say this the last time. Say you don’t want me after this.”

Tiffany opened her mouth—but no words came out, just a breathy, broken sound as he hit that perfect spot again and her back arched on reflex, neck pressing harder into his palm.

He smiled against her shoulder.

“That’s what I thought.”

And in that moment—with his hand on her neck, her body pulsing around him, and the name Martinez falling from her lips like a curse—Luis didn’t need her to say she was his.

Her body already had.

Chapter Twenty-Two “Thanks for Lunch, Martinez.”

Tiffany didn’t even let him get his breath back.

Straddled over him, skin still slick with sweat, her curls clinging to her back, and her gold anklet glinting in the soft afternoon light spilling through her blinds—Tiffany was a woman on a mission. Not for love. Not for tenderness.

For the last word.

“You really got some nerve,” she panted, rocking her hips hard and deliberate like punctuation marks, every grind a sharp reminder. “Flowers? Food?”

Luis groaned under her, his big hands gripping her thick thighs like they were salvation and sin all in one.

“Mierda,” he hissed through clenched teeth, trying to get a hold on her hips, but she swatted his hands away and glared down at him like she ran the damn world—and maybe in that moment, she did.

“You thought you’d just… show up at my job? In uniform, like you ain’t already got my brain short circuiting every time I see your big ass? Is that what we do now, Martinez?”

He blinked up at her, lips parted, sweat beading on his brow. She wasn’t moving slow, she wasn’t easing him into anything. This wasn’t about pleasure—it was about dominance. She was fucking him like she had a damn point to prove.

“You out here cookin’ like you know me?” she snapped. “Bringing flowers and shit, smiling like some firefighter Casanova, like that first time wasn’t already a problem—”

“It was a good problem,” he breathed, trying to sit up.

Tiffany slammed her palm into his chest, pushing him flat again. “Shut up.”

He laughed.

She clenched around him for that.

“Fuck,” he groaned, head dropping back.

“You tryna get a bitch soft or something?” she muttered, rotating her hips with a low curse under her breath. “You got me out here—moaning and shit—liking it.”

Luis looked like he was about to say something slick but choked when she dropped low and met him grind for grind, her nails dragging lightly down his stomach.

“I told you,” she growled, bracing her hands on his chest, her voice rising in frustration that was too tangled with arousal to be taken seriously, “this was one and done, I told you to keep it pushin’—and you just gon’ show up at my front door like it’s nothing?!”

Luis was groaning, his voice strangled, hands gripping the couch cushion like it was the only thing grounding him.

Tiffany rode him like she hated him.

And maybe part of her did.

Or maybe it was herself she hated, for liking how good he felt, how easily he read her body, how fast he’d crept under her skin without even asking permission.

And when it was over—when her body trembled one last time and she collapsed forward, forehead to his chest, both of them catching their breath—she didn’t let it linger. She didn’t kiss him, didn’t curl up beside him.

She rolled off, grabbed the same Michael Myers shirt she’d worn earlier, and yanked it over her frame as she stood up, wiping at her sweat-slick skin with the hem before pointing at the door.

Luis was still on the couch, shirtless, dazed, like he hadn’t decided whether he’d just been loved or murdered.

Tiffany glared.

“Aight. You had your fun, Martinez.”

She crossed her arms, her attitude back in full force, jaw tight, eyes narrow.

“It’s time to go. Thanks for lunch.”

And then she turned on her heel, curls bouncing with every barefoot step up the stairs, not bothering to look back.

Luis stayed where he was for a moment, staring up at the ceiling, a crooked smirk slowly forming.

“Yeah,” he muttered to himself. “She definitely likes me.”

Chapter Twenty-Three “You Deaf, Uce?”

It was a Saturday. Tiffany had finally gotten a morning off after a long stretch of doubles, and she’d been hellbent on spending it doing absolutely nothing but a long, hot shower and lounging around in her oversized bed. That was the plan. That was the peace she’d earned.

Until she heard a beep.

Then another.

A loud, obnoxious, high-pitched screech from one of her smoke alarms.

She groaned, head popping out from behind the steamy shower curtain like a pissed-off cat.

“I just changed the damn batteries,” she muttered to herself, tying a towel tightly around her soaked body as she stepped out and stomped barefoot down the hall. “Better be one of them low battery chirps and not a—”

Beep! Beep! Beep!

She paused.

Then narrowed her eyes as something else hit her ears.

Tools. Like the rattle of a screwdriver. And—

“Whistling?!”

She stomped harder, the towel riding up her thighs as she made it down the stairs, curls still dripping water, clinging to her bare shoulders.

When she hit the living room, her jaw locked tight.

There, standing on a chair in a faded navy FDNY shirt and gray sweats that hung dangerously low on his hips, was him.

Luis.

Arm stretched up as he fiddled with the smoke detector on the ceiling like he lived there.

“UH UH.” She shouted, voice slicing through the house like a blade.

He turned slightly, eyes dragging down her bare legs before moving back to the smoke detector like it was just another day. Like she hadn’t just walked out in nothing but a towel looking like a drenched but deadly goddess.

“’Bout time you changed these batteries,” he muttered. “You know one of ‘em was hangin’ on by tape?”

Tiffany planted her hands on her hips. “Are you deaf, uce?! What the hell are you doing in my house?!”

Luis glanced over his shoulder. Calm. Unbothered. A smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Door was unlocked,” he said casually. “And I saw the lights on. Figured you was home.”

“That don’t explain you being up in my ceiling like you live here!”

“I would live here,” he muttered under his breath, too low for her to hear clearly. But the way he looked at her made her toes curl in that damn bath mat.

She marched toward him, ignoring the way his scent—clean laundry, cedar, and the faint scent of sweat—wrapped around her like a trap.

“You really just gon’ make yourself at home? Fix shit like you pay bills here now?”

He finally stepped down from the chair, turning to face her fully.

“Someone’s gotta make sure your house don’t burn down,” he said, voice low and steady as his eyes traveled lazily over her towel-clad frame. “And clearly it ain’t gon’ be you. You even know where your breaker box is?”

Her jaw dropped. “Are you insulting my home maintenance skills while invading my house?!”

“Not insulting, educating.”

“Oh my God.”

She turned, muttering under her breath as she stormed back up the stairs.

Luis chuckled, grabbing his toolbox and following at a slower pace. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“You better be gone when I get dressed, Martinez!” she shouted from her room.

“I’m not,” he called back. “I’m fixin’ your back porch steps next. One of ‘em loose.”

“Nerve!” she hissed.

He was laughing now.

But he didn’t leave.

He never did.

#damian priest x oc #damian priest fanfic #romance #x black oc #mature fic

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shadowkat564 · 6 years ago

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#i present the Bun!!#she's trying to get me to feed her hours before its time to be fed #i love her meows though!#good effort bunbun #Bunny #cat #babbs cat #imababblekat

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abbyslev · 2 years ago

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im in a fluffy mood rn and i want to be cheesy so imagine hange with ur newborn 😭😭😭 they would spoil your child rotten they would be such a good parent:(((

𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑰𝑺𝑬- 𝑯𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑬 𝑿 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹

A/N: hello! thank you for this ask. i had been thinking about soft hange with their kid :( im fucking CRYING thank you for this sidbfiurfirieurrbeurb sorry it took me a while and i apoligize if its short! Just a small little thing. thank you for this ask!!!

WC: 865

You rub your eyes, turning off your alarm. It was currently four in the morning, which meant feeding time for your baby.

You yawn and stretch, head pounding from the fact that you were up not even two hours ago, trying to rock your baby to sleep. You notice Hange was gone, the side of their bed cold. You assume they were in the bathroom.

You walk over to the baby's room, rubbing your hands together. If she was asleep, you would just go back to bed. She shouldn’t be up if you just fed them not too long ago. You open the door, stopping your tracks as you hear a quiet, raspy voice singing.

You stare at Hange, who held your child in their arms, bottle in their hand, slowly rocking the baby back to sleep. “Stop giving your momma problems.” Hange giggled, placing the bottle back in their mouth. “You look just like her. So beautiful.” Hange traced her face with their finger, cooing.

“What are you doing up?” You walk behind them, cheek resting against Hange’s shoulder. “Baby, what are you doing up?” Hange turned around, returning the question. Their eyes were tired, like they haven’t slept in a while. “I always get up to check on her around this time.” You laugh. “Oh, well she was crying and I didn't want you to get up again.” Hange pushed your hair behind you ear.

“Seems like she’s done.” Hange took her bottle, placing it on the dressing table. Hange placed the baby against their shoulder, eyes still on you. “You look tired, baby.” You place a Hange on their cheek, looking into their brown eyes. “I’d rather be tired than you be up. Go back to bed, i’ll be there as soon as she’s asleep, ok?” Hange pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to wake up tired.” You shake your head. “I’ve been up for longer, now go on.” Hange placed a hand on your waist, pushing you to the door. “See you.” They kissed your head. You trudge back to your room, a big smile on your face wondering what you did to deserve such a beautiful partner and baby,

“Shit!” You sit up. Your alarm didn’t go off, and Hange was supposed to be at work two hours ago.

You notice their side of the bed was empty. “They must have left already.” You stand up, stretching. You go to the nursery, yawning and rubbing your eyes. Opening the door, you were faced with a surprise.

Your baby was in her crib, asleep. Hange was sitting on the floor, head against the crib with a baby book in their hands. You smile, your heart beating quick. It made you remember how nervous Hange was when you two found out you were going to be parents.

Hange immediately went to Levi, asking him how to babyproof the house and having to lock their science room. They spent hours in the baby clothes aisle and even had Erwin help them build all the baby furniture. They bought every baby science book they could find and it was all they talked about.

Hange cared for you, made sure you were never up on your feet, and ran hot baths for you when you needed them. They were at every appointment, all ears and asking a million questions. Some of which you didn’t even think about asking.

When your beautiful girl was finally born, Hange just sobbed. They asked if you were okay and if you needed anything before holding her in their arms, tracing their face and mumbling “I love you.” Over and over again. Hange never left your side, holding your hand and staring at your baby the whole time.

“She’s gonna be the coolest scientist out there. Or whatever she wants to be.” Hange fixed the beanie on her head, their long fingers pushing her cheeks together. They let Levi and Erwin meet her, and they could just see the excitement in Hange’s eyes. Growing pupils, words spilling out of their mouth. It was all Hange could think about.

That’s what made it all worth it. The restless nights, changing diapers, all the doctor visits, the crying, the screeching yells. It was all worth it because you got to see Hange giving their life for your child.

“Hange, baby, wake up.” You kneel beside them, shaking their shoulders. “Huh? Is she asleep? Is she ok?” Hange flinched, rubbing their eyes, looking around. “Yeah, she’s ok. You put her to sleep, and then you slept.” You push their hair back, laughing. “Oh my god, i’m sorry. I know i promised you.” Hange pushed a palm against their forehead.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s okay. Call in and I'll make breakfast, ok?” You press a kiss against their forehead, standing up. “Okay. I’ll stay here watching her.” Hange looked through the crib bars, smiling. “She’s not going anywhere.” You laugh. “But she’s so pretty, she looks like you. Look at her!” Hange stuck their finger through the bars, playing with her small hand. You laugh and shake your head, heart beating. It was all worth it.

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kywaslost · 2 years ago

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A Dangerous Moment - Newt Scamander

A/N: I’m writing this for @newtscamanderimagines because they asked for someone to write this and I absolutely love this idea! Hope it turned out alright!

Request: Reader is female (15) and she absolutely loves all of the creatures he owns. However, one day something happens. One dangerous creature attacked her making her depressed and way too sad and scared to go back in his case. Cried all month etc. Tickles for cheer up?

Newt Scamander would tell his brother that he was at first afraid to let his little sister, you, to stay with him at first. You were only a teenager, 15 years old. He didn’t know how you’d feel benign around his creatures all the time, feeding them and interacting with them. But he gave you a chance, letting you move in with him and traveling with him as long as the trip wasn’t too far.

You surprised Newt, however, during your first night at his home. After you had gone to bed, Newt placed his suitcase down on the floor in his bedroom and climbed down into the zoo that was his suitcase. But after a few hours of sleep, you felt something climb on top of you and sit on your legs. You stirred, trying to move your legs but the weight was too heavy. When you opened your eyes, you were shocked to see a creature sitting on your legs.

“Hi,” you said gently, sitting upright slowly. “You’re a Demiguise, aren’t you?” The creature looked at you with wide blue eyes, then reached its long arms out to you. You let the creature wrap its arms around your neck and legs around your waist, then you stood. Slowly you made your way to Newt’s room. “Are you Dougal?” You asked the Demiguise and it nodded softly.

Newt wasn’t in his room, but you spotted his suitcase and opened it slowly. Making your way down the ladder, you felt the Demiguise grip you a bit tighter. You reached the bottom and your eyes widened in aw. There were magical creatures everywhere. You could see an occamy nest in the distance, and a thunderbird, too.

“This is awesome!” you exclaimed.

Dougal unwrapped himself from you and fell to the ground, taking your hand in his as he dragged you through the case. You followed, looking around at all the creatures as you were making your way through the case. Soon enough, you could see your older brother feeding mooncalves, sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

The wizard caught a glimpse of you through the corner of his eye, and did a double take, “Y/N? Why are you down here? You shouldn’t be here!” He abandoned the mooncalves as Dougal let go of your hand and climbed onto Newt’s back. “You could get hurt!”

Your eyes dimmed slightly, and you lost some of your smile. “I’m sorry. Dougal woke me up. I brought him back here and he led me to you.” You looked away from your brother. “I’m sorry, I’ll go back to bed. Sorry to bother you.”

You turned to walk away, but said one thing before you left. “Oh, and the Nifflers are sniffling. I noticed while Dougal brought me back here. You might want to check that out.”

“Wait.” You turned back to your brother, hair falling in your face and hiding Newt slightly. “You know what some of my creatures are?”

You moved the hair from your eyes and nodded. “I read your book, Newt. And sometimes I read articles about them.” You shrugged, turning away again. “But it’s no big deal. Just let me know if you need any help. I know a few things.”

From that night on, Newt let you work with him and his creatures. He had rules, though. He had to be with you whenever you were working with a dangerous creature, or one you didn’t know how to handle. Over time you were allowed to work with almost all of the creatures in Newt’s case, though.

You loved your new ‘job’ so much. You got to work with creatures as well as spend quality time with your brother. Everything was perfect until one night. You were feeding the nifflers before turning in for the night, having already fed the other creatures that Newt allowed you to tend to. As you were scooping handfuls of weeds and shrubs into the nifflers’ feeding bowls, your wand fell out of your pocket and rolled a few feet away. Thinking nothing of it, you got up from your kneeled position at the bucket of plants and walked over to your wand.

You noticed a hole in the ground near where your wand landed. You spared it a quick thought, noting how you didn’t remember seeing that hole there earlier. Then you kneeled down to pick up your wand.

You felt it before you saw it. A stinging pain coursing through your body, radiating from your hand. You cried out in pain, falling back on your butt as you gripped your hand to your chest. You could see a creature scurrying away out of the corner of your eye. You hadn’t ever seen it before, and you were sure you knew every creature in Newt’s case by now.

The pain quickly became too much to bear and your screaming was getting louder. You couldn’t sit up, tilting to the side and collapsing on your back. Your vision was fading, but you could hear something off in the distance. Through your faded gaze you could see Newt running towards you, then he was beside you.

You couldn’t remember much after that.

You wouldn’t go back into Newt’s case after that night. Even now, two weeks later, you haven’t even been able to look at a creature without bursting into tears and going into a panic. The only one you could stand to see was Picket, but only because you had been around him for years.

Newt was on edge, he’d admit. He wasn’t sure how to help you. He was so petrified when he heard you screaming that night. He thought you were being attacked by Grindlewald and his followers. But then, as he was running to you, he saw one of his venomous creatures running away from where he could hear you screaming.

You were pretty much out of it by the time he got to you. You were still conscious but Newt knew what creature had bit you, judging by the wound on your hand and said creature running past him earlier. There was no one attacking you, which was somewhat of a plus. But that didn’t change the fact that Newt was scared out of his mind. He knew how dangerous that creature was, and he wasn’t even sure how it had escaped its enclosure, but that was another problem for another time.

Newt had to pick you up and carry you back to the shed at the entrance of his case, quickly digging through all of his remedies and medicines to find what would help ease the pain and fight of the venom from the creature that bit you.

Once you recovered, you wouldn’t step foot anywhere near Newt’s case. To be honest, it saddened him that you no longer wanted to help him care for his creatures, but he understood why you were so afraid. The one thing he didn’t know how to handle, however, was the fact that you rarely left your room nowadays. He’d come in, bringing meals for the both of you and eating with you., but that was all he really could do. You spent a lot of time crying, he could hear it through the walls. You didn’t speak much anymore, either. Newt wasn’t sure if your actions were out of pure fear or if they were unknown side-effects from the treated venom.

He tried talking to Thesius, but his brother wasn’t much help. In fact, Thesius wasn’t happy with Newt for letting you around his creatures. In fact, he said, “Newt. This is your problem. Now you fix it.” What a beautiful brotherly support.

Eventually Newt had had enough. You needed to at least go outside and see some sunlight. You were looking worse and worse every day and he couldn’t stand seeing you like this. So one afternoon he gently knocked on your door and entered your room.

“Hey, Y/N,” he greeted quietly. “Can you please come outside with me? You need to see some sunlight.”

Your red puffy eyes glanced up to him. You had been crying again. “No thank you.” Newt sighed, lowering himself to sit beside you on your bed. He looked upset, and you couldn’t help but think that it was because of you. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m worried about you,” Newt admitted. “I know you’re afraid of my creatures now, and that’s ok. But please, you need to take care of yourself and I’d like you to at least see some sunlight.”

You shook your head slowly. “No. There could be creatures out there.”

Newt took a moment to think, then grinned slightly. As he turned to face you, you tilted your head in confusion. “What?” His movements were too fast for you and you had no time to defend yourself. Newt pushed himself forward, forcing you to lay down on the bed as he pinned you down. Then his fingers glided over your sides, causing a loud laugh to burst out of you. You tried to push Newt off of you and he continued ‘torturing’ you but it was no use. He was much bigger and stronger than you, and you didn’t stand a chance against him.

Newt continued to tickle you until you couldn’t breathe and he was concerned you’d begin to hyperventilate. Your brother finally leaned back, giving you room to move away from him, still giggling. “Why’d you do that?” you asked through gasping breaths.

Newt smiled softly. “Because I’m tired of seeing you so upset. If you won’t go outside then maybe at least I can get you to smile here inside.”

You scooted over to sit next to your brother, resting your head on his shoulder. “Thanks, Newt. Hopefully I’ll get comfortable enough again to work with your creatures soon.”

#fantastic beasts #fantastic beast the secrets of dumbledore #fantastic beasts the crimes of grindlewald #fabtcg #newt scamander comfort #newt drabble #newt #newt scamander x reader comfort #newt scamander #scamander reader #scamander sister

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80pairsofcrocs · 3 years ago

Text

baby scarab || 38

anon - bs giving marc a little smooch on the head for appreciation <3 and him just standing there confused 0-0'

~~~

anon - (Tw: homophobia)

wAIT what if one day reader was walking outside wearing a bisexual pin (bc it was a gift from someone? Maybe matt or something cause it’s like “:0 how did you know????”) then they bump into someone? Reader apologises ofc because manners but they see the pin and get angry at them? But surprise surprise: THE CROWS save the day by swooping and (sort of) attacking!!!

~~~

anon - i just finished what there is so far of Baby Scarab and of course it's brilliant, magnificent, and showstopping! anyways as a request could we have one where MC realises that through Steven she's gained a little weight from being just better fed as well as normal teenage growth and she sort of panics about it as per teenage insecurity and the moon men assure her that there's no shame in weight gain?

~~~

@soup238 - I LOVE LATIN DANCING (salsa, bachata, cumbia, etc.) Would it be cool if one of the moon bois maybe Jake taught the reader how to Latin Dance? 😎💃🕺

~~~

A/N : its everywhere.

masterlist - marvel masterlist - series masterlist

A/N : very rushed filler

please enjoy, and don't be shy if you want to be in the taglist, just ask <3, sorry for the long wait

pairings : steven grant x (platonic)reader, marc spector x (platonic) reader, khonshu x (platonic)reader, jake lockley x (platonic)reader

TW : medicine (pills), language, spidey stuff, eating disorder(?), homophobia, let me know if i missed anything

~~~

the cats woke you up again.

right in time for you to get ready for work, too.

you would get up, but steven was holding you tight to his chest, and moving would surely wake him up.

and you know that he doesn’t get enough sleep so you’d feel terrible if you deprived him of it.

you sigh and carefully reach a hand up to pet luna, who was by your face, pedro walking around on the edge of the bed.

you figured that you could at least try to pry stevens arms off of you, which you do successfully and roll onto the floor silently to ensure you don’t wake him.

the kittens snuggle up against him, which makes you smile before you pick yourself up and walk over to the kitchen to find a pen and paper.

you ended up finding a red ballpoint pen and plain yellow sticky notes.

you write a quick letter and grab your phone before silently leaving to get ready for work at your place.

~~~

steven woke up fairly nervous when he realized you weren’t there.

that was until he found the note though.

to stePHen, marK, and jaCK,

i’m going to work so pls don’t freak out.

i’ll be home around lunch and make sure to feed my babies. i like them better than you guys so i want them to live.

i’m kidding, i love you guys more

see you soon :)

steven smiled at the weird letter, while marc scoffed at the obnoxious misspellings of their names.

steven looked to the clock on the oven, it reading 8:48, which made jake scoff this time.

“you slept in too late, now we have to wait until lunch to see y/n” he bitches, marc humming in agreement.

“sorry mates, i’ve just been tired recently” steven mumbles an apology and both the other guys tell him not to worry about it.

“well now what?”

“how about we start with actually cleaning the couch”

~~~

it’s been an average day at work so far, about half an hour left.

you sighed as you hear the bell, signaling that another customer has arrived, and you were delighted to see who it was.

“matt, foggy” you nod to them, both smiling and waving.

“how are you feeling?” matt asks in a hushed voice.

you purse your lips for a moment before answering. “good. well, as good as i can be” you say, darting your eyes to your covered forearm for a split second.

matt nods. “that’s good to hear” he replies, and foggy steps up.

“yeah, that’s good” he starts. “listen, we didn’t come here to get coffee” foggy tells you and you tilt your head with furrowed brows.

“then wha-“ you get cut off by matt setting down a small rectangular black box on the counter in front of you.

you look up at the both of them, and foggy nods to the box.

you hesitate but reach out to it and hold it in your hands, running your fingers along the sides before pulling the top open, revealing a pin and a pair of almost identical glasses to matt.

your mouth opens in shock, until a smile takes over your face.

“guys what-“

“we have to get back to america” matt cuts you off and your smile fades.

everyone had to go back at some point, i guess now was just the time.

“you didn’t have to give me these- i-“

“you’ve earned it” matt smiles at you.

you didn’t know what to say, you just stared down at the gifts with a smile.

“thank you guys” you tell them, coming around the counter to give quick hugs to both of them.

“are you sure i can’t get you anything? it’ll be on the house” you try to bribe them, but they shook their heads.

“you have my card” matt nods at you, and you nod back.

“i’ll see you guys” you wave, foggy waving back as both of them slowly make their ways out of the cafe.

the pin and the glasses remain in the box, so you look around before reaching a hand in and taking the pin out.

it was in the shape of a heart, about the size of a quarter, with the bisexual flag colors on it.

you smile at it and reach down under the counter to attach it to the strap on your small backpack.

you smile at it in approval and stand back up, ready to finish work and head back home.

~~~

you were about halfway back home, hands in your pockets while you stare ahead.

you feel someone bump into you, making you gasp as you turn to see an older lady staring at you with a deep frown.

you get confused and are about to apologize when she cuts you off.

“watch it, queer” you tense at the woman’s comment, her eyes darting to your new pin for a moment.

“i’m.. i’m sorry i-“

“save it” she grits out, getting all up in your face. “i already got whatever disease you have” she turns around and struts away, leaving you to stare off at her with a frown.

you were about to turn around and keep walking when a crow swoops down and drops dirt on the ladies head, making you open your mouth in shock.

a small smile breaks on your face when more crows follow her, occasionally dropping leaves and garbage on her.

you’d be sure to give them extra fruit and seeds later.

your smile fades as you turn to walk back home.

the comments that lady gave you really hurt.

more than it should.

your boys, and now matt and foggy, had been completely supportive of you and your choices.

they made you feel safe in your own skin.

if you had people in your life that loved you for you, then why did one comment make your day considerably worse by the minute.

your lips were pursed when you got into the elevator, pressing the button as khonshu tilts his head at you.

“you don’t have to wait in here, you know” you inform him, the bird just scoffing.

“i could sense distress again” he cuts to the chase, making you sigh as the elevator dings, letting you get off.

khonshu was following of course, you waiting to get inside your apartment before talking to him again to prevent looking crazy to any of your neighbors.

“khonshu, listen” you start, closing your door behind you and taking off your shoes.

“i’m not distressed, i just had a little run in with some crazy lady” you explain and he hums in thought.

“you’re lying” he disappears after that and you sigh.

he is probably off telling the boys that you’re ‘distressed’ or whatever.

you just needed to change into more comfortable clothes and get cleaned up.

you take your bag off your shoulders, deciding to leave the glasses in there for now.

you go to click the lights on when nothing happens.

letting out a sigh of annoyance, you try clicking them on a couple more times before noticing a paper right by your door that you somehow missed.

you bend down and pick it up, it being from your landlord.

“what the hell..” you trail off, reading it.

to y/f/n y/l/n,

you’ve failed to pay all your rent on time, causing us to turn your power and water off.

this is due to rent prices going up, and we are sorry to say that if you can’t pay full rent by the end of this month, you’ll be evicted.

we hope you understand.

you scoff and throw the paper down, watching as it slowly flows down until it hits the floor.

you run a jittery hand through your hair and use your phones flashlight to get cleaned up.

without water of course.

you’re so glad you have some of your stuff at the guys place.

~~~

“what do you mean she’s distressed?” marc demands, khonshu humming.

“her distressed level just got highter”

“that makes no sense, what happened?” marc asks him tensely, already getting his shoes on to go make sure you’re okay.

“she said she ran into crazy lady” khonshu elaborates and marc scoffs.

“doesn’t exactly help” he mutters, slamming the door shut once he got out, and rushing into your apartment since you forgot to lock the door.

you were seen with your head in your hands, sitting on your couch in the dark.

marc tried flicking the lights on, but got confused when nothing happened.

he ultimately ignored it and went to sit next to you on your couch, silently putting a hand on your shoulder.

“do you think i’m a disease?” you randomly ask, marc furrowing his brows.

“of course not. why would-“ and then it hit him.

the ‘crazy lady’ obviously said something about your sexuality, a lot of people thinking about it as a disease.

marc’s expression softened. “honey, you’re not a disease” he starts.

“don’t listen to those jerks” you look up at him and give a small smile.

“matt and foggy have to go soon too. they came to the cafe and they gave me a pin. with my pride flag on it” you start to explain.

“and i put it on my bag. i bumped into a lady and here we are”

“my birds attacked her. dropping trash on her and stuff” you chuckle and marc smiles at you, happy that you’re not feeling as shitty as before.

“don’t let those people get to your head, you’re perfect” he gives you a one armed hug, and then pulls you up.

“now what’s with the lights?” he asks and your mood dampens again.

“if i don’t get rent in by the end of the month, they’re evicting me” you say shortly, marc scoffing.

“that’s not fair, there’s only a week left- it’s only july!” he exclaims and you shush him.

“just- forget about it” you move towards the door, putting your shoes back on.

marc blindly follows, that is until steven takes over.

“alright then, let’s get going, love” both of you leave, heading over to the guys place.

“so what would you like for lunch? i know you-“

“i’m actually not that hungry right now” you interrupt, letting yourself in their apartment.

“…darling, what did you have for breakfast?” he asks and you halt in your steps.

it’s silent for a moment as steven locks the door, coming up so he’s right behind you.

“y/n i asked you a question.” he says and you bite your lip, turning around.

“nothing, okay?” you say quickly, steven giving you a pitiful look.

“why not? should we be worried? it’s not healthy to skip meals, you know” he rants and you stop him by putting your hand up.

“i’ve just..” you trail off, trying to fin the words.

“i’ve just gained a few pounds, nothing serious” you say quietly and steven sighs.

“and what exactly was your diet like before you met us?”

“pop tarts and instant noodles”

“see? and now you’re having a healthy three meals a day. at least one of them being home cooked” he starts, and you look up at him.

“you are perfectly healthy, there’s no shame in it” he continues.

“it’s happy weight, darling, plus the spider bite gave you a faster metabolism, and quite a lot of muscle so..” he trails off and you snort.

“i guess”

“you guess? you’re beautiful” steven starts, and you sense a switch as marc takes over again.

“i just have one thing- do you think you could beat me in an arm wrestle now? without cheating?” he asks and you nod.

“of course you think so” he chuckles and you lean forward to press your forehead against his, surprising him.

“thank you guys” you say quietly, leaning back and putting both your hands on each side of marc’s face, then bringing his head down to press a light kiss to his temple.

you pull away slowly as marc gives you a shocked look, making you shrug.

you sense another switch, which makes you worried until he puts a hand up.

“he needs a minute” jake says and you nod.

was that too far? did he not like that?

you could never know.

jake distracts you by taking your hands in his.

“i’ll have steven make you lunch after this- but i want to teach you something, is that okay?” he asks and you nod.

“just away with me first, si?” he asks and you nod again, smiling as the two cats come and walk around both of your legs.

that afternoon, jake had taught you to salsa.

yes, marc made fun of him and yes you called him a weenie multiple times.

and yes, they had a certain question to ask you separate from the one he was talking about with layla.

and yes, they were sure you’d say yes.

just, how would they ask you?

they had to do it soon since you were basically going to be kicked out of your home.

they just had to get the timing right.

and they knew exactly how to do it.

~~~

A/N : sorry this is so rushed, and also posting early again bc work stuff :)

see you in two days with a more interesting chapter <3

taglist ---

@alexloveskili @ihatemyselfmorethanmydepression @thebiggestsimpshrimp @guyinachair27 @astrobuzzsstuff @mooonlight-and-stars @moonlighting87 @mateihavenoidea @inactive-things @alondrashultz @femalemarvelself @queenthorin1 @haileymorelikestupid @jvdethirlwall @justtiredandvibing @winterfrostsarmy @themapoftinyperfectthings @littlebird101 @atzlena @httpslinow @arrowurboat @m-brekker @lifeandbandmembers-blog @adamcarlsenslvr @violet-19999 @seninjakitey @bestgirlpip @panic-in-the-multiverse @in-between-the-cafes @branolagar @bl6o6dy @annoyingmarvelreader @bee-a-cool-kid @buzzitsbeee @wintergirlsoilder2 @crow-carcass @you-bloody-shank @distinguishedmakerpandapatrol @magnificentcreatorpenguin @50shadesofcrocs @rayrlupin @kingshitonly @brekkers-desigirl @hutaos-gh0st @kayane28 @nevaeh-jasso @lizlil @scarabgrant @luvxxee

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reilliane · 3 years ago

Text

✤ — Universe: Tyranny ✤ — Concept: Oh no, the Queen's personality has flipped! ... Isn't it better if she stays that way? ✤ — Characters: Albedo, Kazuha, Childe A/N: Time to throw the LIs in a loop lmao, thanks for the wonderful prompt, anon dear- there will be a second part, of course~ we must cover all written LIs!

The day is normal—well, as normal as it can possibly be. Thankfully, without the normalized jail time and executions.

It's almost unsettling if everyone is going to be honest.

But they are swift to enjoy and relish in such a rare moment of peace.

For Kazuha, who is without a doubt one of the��if not the most—busiest man given his double role in the palace, simply standing by the balcony overlooking the kingdom is a wonderful repose.

It isn't frequent for him to be distant from his Queen's side, but she had told him to scurry about a few hours ago. Who is he to disobey?

... Maybe he should've.

"Sir- Sir!" the silver-haired Knight turns to greet a panicking squire, one who appears so pallid the former thought he'd faint.

Kazuha isn't prepared to hear the news.

"The Queen- the Queen is missing!"

... Missing!?

The Duke will answer that, no, the Queen is actually here, when faced with a question regarding her whereabouts, but...

Oh, this is alarming, Albedo mulls as he pinches his brows, trying to tune out the chaos in front of him in favor of thinking up a solution.

"[Name], feed me one more?"

"Goodness, if your stomach aches later..."

"Aw, you do worry about me!"

The Duke sighs. In a way, her Majesty really is missing...

No one will think the genuinely smiling lady, without a trace of danger and authority, to be the tyrant ruler everyone is wary and afraid of.

Yes, surely, if one walks into this scene... a nobleman being fed chocolates by the Queen, who is laughing out of sincere amusement, they'll the think the latter has been possessed.

Magic isn't a myth in this world, but very few can handle it.

And albeit it is very much real, Albedo knows it not to be the cause of the Queen's change of temperament.

A potion just exploded and the lady was just a bit too close... then, before they know it...

"Ah, you have a stain- let me get that for you, Ajax,"

The Duke releases another sigh.

Now, how to fix this?

Childe appears to be having the time of his life.

If one is to squint, they may as well see the tiny floating hearts and flowers abvolating around as another slab of chocolate is slipped into his mouth.

The taste is sweet, but it is dull in comparison to the sight before him. The Queen, smiling with pink cheeks? Heavenly! Divine!

Sweeter than any kind of chocolate!

He rarely gets to see the look of eunoia brought by simple—innocent—things, for it's often that the royal lady is entertained by more macabre subjects.

Childe laughs, "Who would've thought that your concoction will bring out such an angel?"

"Silence," quips Albedo with a frown.

"As sordid as her Majesty may be, know that wickedness has its roots. A long time ago, she can smile without worries like everyone else. She just cannot do so now."

Ah, Childe's curled lips are tugged down, aware that what was said is nothing but the truth and reality of things. That's right...

[C] eyes blink at him in pure, almost innocent-like wonder. Like a child yet to be tainted of the world's dark secrets.

Long ago... before the weight of the crown, yes, the Queen is just like them.

SLAM!

The three jolts in their respective places, the splaying of the doors coming unexpectedly. That surprise grows twofold when they take note that it's the usually composed servant to have done it.

"Sir Albedo," the urgency in his voice can't be mistaken for anything else, "Her Majesty is—... your Majesty?"

Something is strange in the way the Queen looks at him.

Or perhaps it just feels new, for this is the first time Kazuha has actually looked at her for more than a minute or two.

But he feels it; the lack of hostility. Even her stance that was once always alert has gone lax. There is a look he's not expecting to see on her face at all—at least, one he didn't think he'll see again.

An unfiltered expression of bewilderment, mixed with awe and perhaps a little bit of mirth.

"Kazuha!" the Queen bursts into a lovely smile that has the Knight blinking in disbelief. "Oh, you're just in time for tea, have you tasted any of these delicacies? They're really delectable!"

Is he seeing things? Is he dreaming? This must be some jest.

Yet, as he directs his eyes to the two men present in the room and sees the wordless ultimatum... his mind blanks out.

"Here you are!"

Kazuha jumps, realizing how the Queen has stepped into his space, extending a fork with a piece of milk chocolate. Ah, ah, this is bad.

Is she doing what he thinks she's doing?

The Knight leans his head back, creating some space between them.

"Heh, this opportunity is quite hard to come by, you know? Would you dare upset the Queen?" Childe hums from his place, though the servant can easily detect a speck of jealousy in the nobleman's expression.

Oh, the Kaedehara dares not. But the Queen is... not exactly herself right now. And should he really be this close to her? He's defying an order standing and locking eyes...

He turns to the Duke, who shrugs. "Well, I'm certain no one would really inform her Majesty of this afterward."

A resigned sigh later, and the Knight is leaning down to bite the chocolate off the silverware, aware of the brightening pools of [c].

Ah, she looks like a completely different person, Kazuha notes. Like back then.

"How is it? Delicious, isn't it?"

Did she just laugh?

He thinks he sees the nobleman stumbling off his chair.

Slowly, the silverette nods. "Yes, your Majesty.. it's sweet."

The Queen smiles.

Childe lets out an odd noise of satisfaction at the sight—one that the Duke grumbles over in exasperation—and Kazuha swiftly turns his wide stare elsewhere, cheeks a little flushed.

He clears his throat.

"Pray tell, what happened to her Majesty? The meeting with Prince Ragnvindr is in a few hours..."

a/n: yes i had to add childe's line lmao- also got carried away, but this was a lovely piece to write :weary: a small break from being a tyrant! also also, maybe i should post MC/Queen's known rules for Kazuha? lol

@cherryflushz @e7t3 @scarlet-halos @lordbugs @nebulaera @annoying-and-upset @hanniejji @applepi1415 @tjjjrsj @azirajane @koi-chairowo @one-offmind @01-407 @tjjjrsj @midnightraindropme @yvechu @alana5021 @yvechu

#m-tyranny #reader insert #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin fluff #female reader #kazuha x reader #albedo x reader #childe x reader #albedo fluff #childe fluff #kazuha fluff

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hpimaginesandblurbs · 4 years ago

Note

wait draco fucking his arranged marriage wife on a couch after she admitted to still seeing her ex (not knowing he has feelings for her obviously) and he’s like oh? can he fuck you like this tho?

pairing: draco malfoy x reader

warning(s): 18+, adultery, arranged marriage, slight degradation

word count: 3.0k

a/n: this was not supposed to be this long but it ran away from me as i started writing. this is the longest thing i’ve written on tumblr so far and i hope you all enjoy it! one of my own person favorites.

Another day felt like another day wasted in the walls in the stuffy Manor you called home. Except it wasn’t home. And it wasn’t another day.

No. After weeks of trying to get your husband to open up to you, you had had enough. It was an arranged marriage, and although you were no fool and had no pretenses of pretending to love him, you’d at least like to get to know the person you called your husband.

Back in school you had always thought the infamous Draco Malfoy was rather handsome, anyone would be a fool to deny it. He was confident and popular, great at Quidditch, and seemed like the perfect gentleman - everything you could want in a husband. Turns out it was the opposite. All the feelings you thought you might develop for him were unrequited, and he ignored you at every turn.

So you took it into your own hands to get what you were so desperately craving: physical affection. It didn’t take much, truly. All you did was send an owl to your ex boyfriend from your school days and one thing led to another until you were in his bed, wrapped in his arms, and rocked to your core with pleasure.

But now you were back in your ‘home’, wasting away within the walls of the Manor with your husband nowhere to be found.

It wasn’t until hours later, when you were getting ready to push yourself up from the couch to head to bed, did the fireplace flash green, signaling his arrival home.

“Hello. How was your day?” You asked politely, hoping just this once he might fall into a normal conversation with you.

“Fine,” he replied shortly, not even bothering to look at you as he emptied his pockets and put down his very important briefcase that was a mystery to you.

A blaze of frustration ran through your body, desperate to get more out of this man than just one word. A crazy thought came into your head, to tell him about your day, but you pushed it aside. No, Malfoy’s wouldn’t think highly of a girl who committed adultery within weeks of marriage. But…

“My day was great,” you told him, rather impulsively.

At first he seemed shocked that you even said anything, the conversation usually reached its end by now. But he recovered quickly, politely asking “And what was so great about your day?”

Naturally, you could lie. Tell him you met up with your female friends for lunch. Tell him you read a good book. Tell him anything but the truth. But…

“I reacquainted myself with my ex boyfriend from school,” you told him, daring to look him in the eye as you spoke.

“Reacquainted? How?” He asked, a series of emotions flashing over his face that you had never seen before. It sent a thrill through you to see him showing any emotions at all.

Again, you could lie. Tell him you met him for lunch. Tell him that you ran into each other in Diagon Alley. Tell him anything but the truth. But…

You knew even if the truth did come out, he would have to keep it a secret. He wouldn’t dare be seen as a spineless cuckold as his wife went around sleeping with whomever she pleased.

“I owled him a few days ago, asking to meet him,” you began, watching as his face contorted into something akin to anger. “I went to his home, for lunch, and it didn’t end with lunch.”

You left the end of your short story rather ambiguous, wanting to see what he’d do with the information you presented him. He had barely moved from his place by the fireplace, but the look he was giving you could set you up in flames if he wanted it to.

“So, what? You fucked him?” He asked, the politeness in his voice giving way to the anger he was feeling.

In a sick way, it pleased you to see him angry. Gave you a sense of pride that you, the wife he had seen fit to ignore, could get such a rise out of him.

“Yes, seeing as you haven’t even touched me,” was your spiteful reply, foolishly placing the blame all on him despite your own actions.

“You stupid, silly little girl,” he said under his breath as he stalked over towards you, menacing in just how much bigger he was than you. “You don’t fucking understand a thing about me, do you?” He asked, hovering over you, his hands braced on the back of the couch that you were still seated on, your faces inches apart.

“You don’t let me. You never speak to me,” you argued, ready to turn this into a fight filled with low blows if he really wanted it to go that way.

“You think this is a fucking walk in the park for me? Having some girl I’ve barely met in my house looking terrified of me every time I come near her? Suffering through your daily attempts to talk to me, but knowing how unbearably uncomfortable you are in being here? You think I wanted this? For either of us?” He asked seamlessly, almost in a rush to get all of his thoughts out before he thought better of it. A look of hesitation passed his face for a brief moment before he continued on, more quietly now. “You think I wanted the girl I couldn’t take my eyes off for a single day after fifth year hating being in my presence? Going behind my back to fuck someone else because I’ve held myself back in case she was uncomfortable doing anything more than just acting like my wife?”

He didn’t meet your eye at first, but when he did you saw the weight of his emotions. He was hurt, by himself and by you. He was jealous of the man you had chosen to spend your day with. He was terrified of your reaction to his words. He was furious he even had to have this conversation, in this way, in this situation. He was relieved he finally got it all out.

“Wh- What are you saying?” You asked cautiously, not wanting to twist his words to meet your own fantasy of having a loving husband.

He took a deep breath before he answered, but made no moves to rid himself of his proximity to you. “Y/N, I’ve been head over heels for you since the moment we met. But having an arranged marriage, I couldn’t do much more but assume you didn’t share the same feelings as me.”

“Oh,” was all you could even say back, too overwhelmed to think of anything else. You searched his eyes for the lie, but they held nothing but the raw truth. He must have seen something in your eyes as well, because his tone shifted into something else entirely before he spoke again.

“Now, Y/N, I think we got off on the wrong foot and I didn’t make my intentions clear with you. I intend to be a good husband, a loving husband. And yet despite my best efforts to be the perfect gentleman so far, you went behind my back to sleep with some other man. And what does that say about you?” He asked, his eyes boring into yours as he spoke.

You were sure he could hear your heart rate from how close he was, your pulse racing at his words. “I- I don’t know,” you stuttered, willing to let him take this wherever he saw fit.

“I’m not going to place the blame all on you, because I know I haven’t been perfect. But one might say that you’re a dumb little whore, and I might be inclined to agree. A stupid, little girl trapped in her big, posh Manor. Going out to let any guy fuck her, not even knowing that her husband can fuck her better than anyone else could.”

“And you could fuck me better than someone I know can?” You asked incredulously, shocked at the words spilling from his mouth. But even if you tried, you couldn’t deny the way he was so sure of himself, so sure he could please you better than any man, aroused you to no end.

He let out a dark chuckle and looked at you, amused. “Of course I could, darling. That is, if you give me the chance,” he told you in a teasing tone, before pushing himself off of the couch to walk away.

“Wait,” you started, once again acting on impulse. You might regret your next words, but damn it if you weren’t curious. And he was your husband after all. “Prove it.”

“Prove it?” He asked, turning on his heel to face you again, a victorious grin written across his face. When you nodded, he only lifted a brow before he continued. “Now? Haven’t you had a long day of, oh how did you put it, ‘getting reacquainted with your ex’?”

“You talk a big game, Draco. Now I’m asking you to prove it. Scared?” You asked, baiting him.

In a split second and a flurry of movement later, he had you laying down against the couch, pressed into the expensive fabric, with his weight on top of you, pinning you down.

“I’ll give you one last chance to back out of this. Tell me now, otherwise I’m going to fuck you through this couch,” he said through gritted teeth, clearly fed up with your antics.

Without even thinking, your lips crashed onto his in a heated kiss. Lips you hadn’t felt since your wedding day. You hadn’t even remembered what they felt like until his tongue was darting along your bottom lip, hastily requesting entry.

As your kiss remained heated, he was expertly shedding you both of your clothing until you were almost bare. He had only left you in your small, lace thong in the aftermath of his destruction.

His hands traveled your body possessively, as if trying to memorize every curve and edge of your skin. The moment your bra came off, your breasts were in his hands, easily rolling your nipples until you were gasping for air. He swallowed all your noises greedily, as if you were feeding them to a starved man.

It wasn’t until he pulled away, his hands resting on the waistband on your underwear, did you have a moment for a coherent thought.

“One last time, are you sure Y/N?” He asked as if it was painful for him. As if it was the case that you said no, it would be immensely difficult for him to pull himself away. As if it was the case that you said no, he’d die a painful death at your feet.

“I’m sure,” you said softly, not wanting him to think for a second that you had any hesitant thoughts about this moment.

As he slowly pulled down your final layer of clothing, it gave you a chance to finally look at him.

And he was beautiful.

He looked like an ancient Greek statue, perfectly carved and crafted out of marble come to life. His perfectly defined lines, his impossible definition, his muscles in all the right places. Your eyes eventually traveled down to his cock, and your breath hitched when you finally saw how large he was. If you had known this all along, perhaps you wouldn’t have sought out another man for your pleasure.

He seemed to be taking you in just the same. His eye trailing down your body with such reverence that you felt like an ancient Greek goddess yourself, if only for a moment.

“You’re gorgeous,” he said softly, almost as if he didn’t mean for you to hear the words.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you replied, giving him a shy smile when his eyes met yours again.

“I’ve been waiting to do this for a long time,” he told you, still in the soft tone that he had. He gracefully let his body fall back over yours, bracing himself on one forearm while his other hand traveled the length of your body.

When he caught your lips again, it didn’t hold the same heat as before, but there was something new there. Something good. Something that could only be translated through your lips in that very moment. Something akin to adoration, worship, even love.

His hand stopped its travels at the apex of your thighs, expertly running his fingers over your clit and down your slit, feeling for himself just how wet you were. He groaned at the feeling of how wet and warm you were, and you felt his cock twitch against your stomach in anticipation.

He slowly opened you up for him with his fingers. First with one, then two, even venturing to three before he was content that you wouldn’t be uncomfortable. He didn’t rush the process, kept a slow, steady, predictable pace as he worked your body. And every time you got close to the edge, he’d gently bring you back down, leaving you a whining, writhing mess by the time he was aligning his cock with you.

“Draco, please,” you begged shamelessly, more than ready for him.

“Did you beg for him earlier?” He asked almost nonchalantly, teasing you with the tip of his cock.

He must have seen the shock on your face, shocked that he would bring it up in this moment, because he only chuckled before pushing inside of you, a gasp easily pulled from your lips at the intense stretch.

He didn’t fuck you gently, immediately starting with a breakneck pace that left you seeing stars from the first moment he bottomed out. You were easily rewarding him with your moans, letting him know just how good it felt without words. You couldn’t speak even if you tried.

But he talked. Oh, yes. He ran that pretty mouth of his as if he wasn’t thrusting so deep inside of you the couch was rocking.

“I was right, wasn’t I? You’ve never been fucked like this, have you?” He asked, right as you were beginning to climb that peak into a pleasurable abyss.

You gave him a feeble nod in return, not trusting your own mouth to properly respond.

“Did he fuck you like this?” He asked, biting the question out through clenched teeth as if he was dreading the answer. “Tell me, Y/N, did he?” He asked, fucking you even harder now in his frustration.

“No,” you cried out, breaking free of your moans for a second to answer him. “He can’t fuck me like this,” you added, if only to stroke Draco’s ego, but nevertheless it was true. No one could fuck you like this.

“Cum for me, let me feel you,” Draco said, lowering his head into the crook of your neck to ground himself, trying to fight off his orgasm until you got yours.

It didn’t take much longer after that. He had worked you up so much beforehand that your orgasm came to you easily and came with such a force you were left breathless in its wake. Your nails carved down Draco’s muscular back, sure to leave delightful scratch marks that you could study later, as you cried out in bliss.

The moment he felt your walls contract around him, he let himself go with a low groan. The sound was music to your ears, and only intensified the feelings you were experiencing. To have him so close, sharing in the same ecstasy you were, it was like magic.

When you both came down from your highs, he swiftly rearranged the both of you until you wrapped in his arms, both lying on the couch. It was a strange feeling, being in his arms for the first time like this. If someone had told you this would be happening only a few hours before, you would have laughed in their face. But now here you both were, sweaty and satiated, basking in the bliss of finally consummating your marriage.

The thought made you giggle, and when he shot you a perplexed look, you couldn’t help but explain.

“We finally consummated our marriage,” you explained, still giggling. “And don’t worry, by the way, I’m on the potion,” you thought to add, just in case kids weren’t looming in the future for him.

“Good to know you won’t be birthing any bastard children,” was his sullen response, clearly still hurt by the events of the day.

You shifted your body until you were looking directly at him, but he made no moves to pull his arms away from you. If anything, he held you tighter when he felt you move, unwilling to give up the moment.

“Look, I’m sorry about what I did today. It wasn’t right and it wasn’t fair to you. And if I had known even a fraction how you felt about me, I wouldn’t have done it, because I feel the same about you. I was just feeling incredibly stuck in what I thought was a hopeless marriage, and I was lonely, so I sought out someone else. But now I understand that that isn’t the case, and I can promise you, from the bottom of my heart, that it will never happen again,” you told him, putting everything out there for him.

“You feel the same?” He asked timidly, after a moment of deliberation. There was a look of hope on his face, and never in your wildest dreams would you shut down such a rare display of emotion from him. Then again, you may be expecting more of his emotions from here on out.

“Yes. I’ve always been attracted to you, and the little bits of you that I do know, I like. I want this to work, Draco. I want this to be a real marriage. All I wanted was a shot.” you said, just praying he wanted the same.

“‘I’ll admit, I wasn’t a good husband to you by any means, and I probably unknowingly pushed you into doing what you did. But now that our intentions are out there, I’d like nothing more than to give this a real shot,” he responded, that newly familiar look of hope in his eyes present once more.

In that moment, you could both feel it. The beginning of something great.

#Draco Malfoy #Harry Potter #draco malfoy smut #Draco Malfoy Headcanon #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy blurb

1K notes · View notes

dienamights · 4 years ago

Text

Ex’s and O’s | K.Bakugou

» Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Reader.

» Word count: 6.7K

» Genre: hurt/comfort, Smut MDNI, Prohero!au

» Summary: Its bad enough that you’re spending your ex-boyfriend’s birthday curled up in bed, wearing his merch, drinking away your sorrows, but what’s even worse is having your eardrums pierced by the blaring music upstairs at the party thrown just for him.

» Warning(s): Smut 18+ MDNI please, hurt/comfort, mentions of alcohol, dubcon since reader is under the influence while getting dicked down, drunk sex, oral sex and fingering (female receiving, we getting fed tonight), one pussy slap lol, manipulation, unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy)

» Author’s notes: Hello! aaaah I’m actually pretty excited about posting this fic! First of all, its Bakuhoe’s birthday! and what better way to honor it than to feed you all some good ol angst sprinkled in with some good dickin’ down. Its been years since I’ve written smut and I’m actually really fuckin proud of it, yet real nervous but I hope you enjoy! Secondly, this fic is a part of Bakugous Birthday Bash! I’m so excited to read everyone’s work, thank you everyone for holding this event and allowing my ass participate to create this with you all ♡ be sure to read everyone’s contributions, I know it’ll be more than amazing since everyone worked so hard!

Happy Birthday to our favorite King Explosion Murder♡♡

Lastly, I wanna thank everyone for their support and helping me reach 200 followers already! You guys are the cutest thing ever and I promise I’ll update more frequent the minute I’m out of uni late june fml, thank you @tteokdoroki for giggling with me when i wrote cock for the first time lol

» Masterlist | Requests

Rolling out of bed and flailing onto the floor as a start of your day ensures you that the following 24 hours will ultimately suck ass. Getting up and readying yourself for the day by looking through one of your cardboard boxes for your favorite Dynamight hoodie, the back of your mind keeps nagging you, trying to remind you of something buried deep in your subconsciousness, and you have half a heart to try and remember, because for some odd reason, you feel so fucking weary, as if the few steps from your bed to your bathroom are somehow now endless miles, almost making you breathe out in relief after finally reaching it.

And as you are making your coffee, that odd feeling keeps annoying you again, prodding at your brain to remember something, something. And ultimately, that's when your eyes fall to the counter. You knew this day was coming and you were dreading it for months, so as you look at the calendar on your kitchen counter, you frown, the quote of the day you always love reading so much long forgotten when your eyes fall on the date.

“You’ve gotta be kiddin' me.” You mumble at the calendar on your counter hatefully with furrowed eyebrows, as if it would either reply or change its date, it doesn’t do either, and your lips curl downwards even further. As in immediate response, you pick up your phone, your coffee pot tossed aside as you dial the number of the only person you could think might help you right now.

“G’morning y/n -” you hear Kendo’s voice through your phone, and you honestly want to sob right then and there, but you hold yourself, barely and speak over her overly cheery voice first thing in the goddamn morning. “It's Kats- Bakugou’s birthday” you whimper at the slip up, being so used to the first name basis you were in with your now ex-boyfriend.

“Yeah, was kinda hoping you would’ve forgotten.” She sighs, tugging at her bangs and pulling back her phone to check the time. “Tell you what, I get off work in an hour, then I’m spending the day with you. I’ll get tequila, I know you love your shots.”

“Ken, it's like 10 right now..” you can’t help but pout, having alcohol in your system as an escape to help you forget about the entire day still sounding better than the urge to cry and crawl into a hole, even if it's at the start of your day. “Y'know what? Get those gummy worms I like too.” “Bet.” you hang up with a sigh, moving back to the kitchen to sift through your bubble wrapped kitchen utensils, barely forcing yourself to prepare breakfast as to not have your liquor on an empty stomach.

You loathe the fact that you remembered his birthday, always reminded of him no matter how long ago since you’ve last seen him, being the center of the media’s attention for years as the number 6 hero in japan has its perks, well, in his case, but to you? Nothing but trouble and heartache as every channel you flip through plasters his face, whether it be about some big rescue mission he partook in or a new rumor about a potential lover to the explosive hero, followed by him almost attacking a reporter, yelling to them about ‘needing to mind yer goddamn business and keep my fuckin’ name outta your mouths’. Therefore, you opted long ago to stay away from the TV to avoid seeing him, his captivating rubies for eyes, covered by that goddamn mask you like to push up to his forehead, sweeping his bangs away and exposing his sweaty forehead that he bumps against yours as he makes love to you, still in his hero costume, all battered and dusty and so incredibly hot you have to-

You grip your coffee mug tighter, almost to the point of breaking the handle off of it, placing it rather roughly onto the table before pushing your food away, appetite gone with the thought of whatever paradise you were thinking you were in before now long gone and never coming back, all because of you, of your action, of your mistake.

Kendo walks in with a bright smile on her face, as if her overly cheerful attitude will balance out the void you’re slowly but surely falling in. She shakes the bag of snacks in your face as you blink your eyes back into focus. Dragging your heavy feet across the floor to get to your kitchen to retrieve the shot glasses. Only kissing her cheek in thanks when you snatch away whatever it is she brought with her to lift your mood.

She eyes the boxes by your kitchen, the four placed haphazardly in your living room and the one you're using as a stool while filling your shot glasses, tongue sticking out to try and fill each one to the brim without spilling any on the new coffee table that she failed to notice before is still wrapped in bubble wrap that prevent any damage during the moving process.

“y/n…” you hum in response, a frown falling on your lips as the third glass spills a bit and the liquid pools on the plastic.

“Don't you think that you should’ve probably unpacked a while ago? Hasn't it been, what, five months?”

“I didn't know you were gonna come here to harass me about my life choices, Kendo”

She flinches away, your tone venomous, almost feeling it as a slap to her face, before leaning in when she sees your eyes start to water.

“If I did, that just means it's true… that just means it happened, and I did the stupidest thing- you know what,” you wipe the few tears that managed to escape away with the sleeve of your sweater, looking down at the shots in front of you. “It, it doesn't matter anymore just- can I just drink and try to forget about how my life has gotten nothing but fucking worse since the day I left him?”

You questioned your worth that one time, that one time all those months ago. Thinking that by doing what you did and leaving, he’d drop everything and run behind you, chase after you and win you back, but he didn't, and as you sit surrounded by the evidence of how much of a failure you find out you are without him, you regret ever questioning it, ever questioning him. Because to you, living in denial was so much better than whatever hell this is.

So all you could think of is to just drown yourself in alcohol until your mind is too numb to think of the possibilities of how you could have avoided this, how you could’ve been a less of shitty person, and stop imagining how your life would be now if you just swallowed all your insecurities and just stayed. Despite the neglect, despite not being prioritized, because in some weird twisted way, those lies held you with warmth that you were never able to find after uncovering the ugly truth you’re living in right now.

You lay on your living room floor, the alcohol swirling in your system and clouding your vision as you trace imaginary shapes in your ceiling, the voice of Kendo muffled as she rambles on and on about her day, the amount of outlaws she bitch slapped - a term she uses to get a laugh from you - and how she considers herself the unluckiest being in the whole world for having Monoma as a partner of all people, seriously contemplating who she should beat up first between him and the villains.

“Must be nice,” you voice, low and slow, scared of how Kendo would react to what you’re about to say, yet your intoxicated self unable to stop your mouth from uttering the words. “To have a purpose in life, to not be quirkless and lost like us.” your face twists in an ugly scowl at your ceiling, but mostly to yourself for putting a downer on whatever mood your friend is trying so hard to build, proven by the hitch of her breath before she enters your peripheral vision when she leans over you, all upside down and pouty.

“What’re you talki-” the shrill ringtone of her phone breaks you away from each other as she leaps to fetch it and silence the god forsaken thing by answering the call. “Battle Fist here, yes sir, I was partnered up with Phantom Thief for the patrol at area B, n-no sir I wasn’t informed.” Kendo breaths out in irritation, pinching the bridge of her nose as she starts tapping her feet aggressively on the floor, eyes falling onto yours when you look up at her all weary and sad, knowing what she would tell you once she hangs up. “That dumbass is gonna be the end of me I swear.” She crouches down to your level and kisses your forehead, promising to be back in the morning with hangover food, before she leaves and locks the door behind her.

Now you’re left all alone, back aching from laying on the hardwood floor and eyes watering as you feel your loneliness eating you up inside, the god awful music thumbing loudly in your ears followed by the cheer of people as you-

Music?

You sit up abruptly, groaning at the dizziness of the swift movement as your hands fly to cover your ears, a failed attempt of ensuring your brain doesn’t begin to spill out from them, because of the loud voices, the bass shaking your entire fucking apartment by how strong it is, and you curse yourself for falling for the scheme the landlord pulled you in, paying half of the rent everyone did, just because you lived right below the penthouse that hosted the loudest parties in the area, 4 days out of the fucking week.

The money hungry shameless bastard praised the apartment the minute it spiked your interest all those months ago, selling it so well you actually moved in the next week, anything to stop feeling like a burden to Kendo as you couch-surfed her apartment. Only to realize within that first week from your downstairs neighbors that he rents the penthouse to host parties of all sorts, and due to its location in the city, it was pretty popular, yet you didn’t have the money to move out again, nor the heart to concern your friend with your problems, as she was a hero with other responsibilities aside from taking care of your hopeless self.

So you get up, barely gathering yourself onto that elevator to tell off whoever the fuck will answer the door first to turn the music down. You pound the door with your fist repeatedly the minute you reach it, the door opening so suddenly you almost punch the man standing in front of you in the chest, the cool air created from the door cooling your warm cheeks as you squint at your victim for the day.

“Welcome!”

“Listen here, you buttfaced moron” you start to chew the person’s ear out, your sight blurring yet still able to notice how bright his hair is, how fiery and familiar it looks, and you’re certain you’ve seen it somewhere before. “I’m trying to drink away my regrettable life choices and cry over my ex-boyfriend, so if you would just turn down the-”

“y/n?” oh, that’s where. Your stomach drops as Kirishima looks down on you, the bright smile he flashed to whoever he was welcoming now dropped with his eyes almost bulging out at your presence, you both stand in silence, the boy unbuttoning the collar that suddenly feels like it has a chokehold on him while you cross your arms and hope the floor would swallow you a floor down back into the comfort of your home.

Kirishima basically is shutting down the second his eyes lay on you, breaking a sweat as your eyes never waver, despite how you fail to stay standing straight, what was he supposed to say? ‘Hey we’re throwing a birthday party for your ex-boyfriend because he's been feeling depressed from the day you dumped his ass’ ? No! He wouldn’t do that to his friend, but what was he gonna say now?

Well, he didn’t have to really think about what to say to you, because his other friend didn’t hesitate to push him forward, slurring something along the lines of ‘lettin the hot ladies in so they can take a look at the prettier blond, aka moi’. In his moment of panic, the redhead stumbles forward, his cup slipping from the tips of his fingers and meeting its doom by the floor, whatever was filling it now staining your pants as you both look at the mess between you.

“Woah bro, we said you gotta get’er wet but not- '' Denki's cackle stops him from continuing whatever filth he was gonna spew out - thankfully - before his eyes drop down to your chest, or more like what was covering it. “Hey! You a Dynamight fan? Hey Bakuhoe, comere for a sec.”

Dear God, move, for the love of all that's pure in this god forsaken world, move! Run!

All you could do is shake and breathe in short segments as your widened eyes meet his unamused ones, the garnets in his eyes glistening at your sight, he stands straight and so tall, suited up in his usual attire. Dressed for the occasion, words aren't able to describe his beauty. You try not to let your brain be dazzled by how incredibly handsome he looks. He is wearing a dress shirt, in the deep color of wine that complements his eyes, dress pants hugging his long legs, not to mention the open collar, and no tie. He looks like a long, lean Lothario.

At that your eyes drop down to the floor, specifically the now stained carpet, your hands wrenching the end of your hoodie to distract yourself from the piercing rubies that haunts your dreams.

You build up some courage, enough of it to lift your head to continue what you came here to do, so you open your mouth, and drop a few IQs while you’re at it. “The m-music is loud and m’tryin’ to sleep,'' you mumble, noting how Kirishima leans down to make up the words you are saying over the sound of the blaring music while Bakugou narrows his eyes at you as if disregarding his sight will make him hear you better. “So, if you could turn down the heat, that’d be,”

“You squiffed?” The blond grunts, leaning his face close to yours to inspect it, and he catches a whiff of alcohol in your breath, his eyebrows furrowing at your response. “No I'm not squinting-”

“Yeah you’re drunk alright,” he huffs at your less than intelligent reply, pushing his glass of whiskey - you figure since it's always been his drink of choice - against Kirishima’s chest, telling him to lower the fucking volume and grabs you by your bicep. “C’mon, I’ll take you home.” you stumble at the force used against you, no matter how weak it actually is, before you barely straighten yourself to push his hand away. “I can walk down all by myself, thank you.” Of course you’d expose where you live, you dumbass.

He doesn’t question your integrity, just continues to basically drag you to the elevator before pushing your apartment door open when you choose your floor, irked to find your misplaced trust in the people of the complex by not locking your door after leaving. He barges into your bedroom and tells you to change out of your fucked up pants and proceeds to saunter to your kitchen to get you water, eyeing the boxes that he comes across during that small trip.

He stands awkwardly by the door when he sees you standing in the middle of the bedroom, sifting through countless moving boxes with your pants on the floor, thrown next to a pile of clothes that he can only assume that its supposed to be your laundry ‘basket’, until you opt against wearing any since you can't seem to find anything to replace them. And when he asks you if you just moved in, his expression sours when you shake your head no and explain to him that you’ve been living for months in this space, after chugging that cup of water like you’ve been parched for days.

“Birthday party?” You ask out of the blue as you play with the strings of your hoodie, your ears perking up at the confirmation hum you receive. “Hmm, thas’cool… I-I guess.”

Bakugou’s impassive as he gently pushes you onto your bed, eyes meeting yours as he covers you up with your blanket. “Get some rest, I’m leaving.” He said, slowly stalking away from you and barely reaching your door as your big mouth talks on its own. Your body sitting up and facing his retreating back.

“That's what you always do, you always leave”, you utter and you see him stiffen his shoulders before he spins to face you, so fast you almost want to check up on him about getting a whiplash.

“Hah?” it's one syllable, but it shakes your very core, that one sound making you almost shake, overwhelmed by the amount of emotions, the amount of pain that one sound has. He steps closer to your bed, the stomps of his feet sounding like gun shots in your ear, and you pathetically lift up the blanket to cover yourself up, cowering behind it like it's some pseudo shield that might protect you from him.

“I’m the one that leaves?” he growls at you, his eyes sizing you up when you react to his forceful approach, leaning back to look down on you, but his lips are still curled in a frown, he tries to hold himself from blowing up at you, his feelings oddly enough still raw in his chest the moment he lay eyes on you the first time since you left, threw him away and walked away, probably finding someone better, probably finding someone who you tolerated, unlike himself, but when he sees you straighten up your back to rebuttal him, an automatic response to whenever he raised his voice at you from all those years ago, he knows he is in for a fight.

He snarls when you nod at him, your eyes hard and glaring up at him, not knowing that your silence is by your better judgement since you don't trust your voice, knowing it’ll fail you, probably crack and show him how much he actually is affecting you by his closed off posture and demeaning look down at your frame.

“Real fuckin’ rich of ya, y/n.” He snaps back, his hands brought up to his hair, tugging at it. “As if you didn’t pack your shit,” he kicks at yet another cardboard box fucking spewed in your room, noting its heavy weight when it didn't move but an inch by his action. “Dropped your keys by the fuckin’ door,” as an emphasis, he throws your apartment key at you, making sure it doesn’t actually hit you, but falls onto your lap. “And left. Without a single fuckin’ word, like I'm some lowlife who didn't deserve an explanation, like I didn't deserve anything! And-” that hurt, goddamn it.

Exhaling deeply, he focuses on how your eyes look a little less glossed over, a little more sober, but holding fear, and he almost steps back and out when he looks at how you’re fighting tears, almost wanting to bust his own kneecaps than to see you like this, always wanting nothing for you but to be happy, to never upset about anything no matter how small it might be.

Then why did you leave him? Left him to drown by his lonesome self, waves of his insecurities and sorrow crashing into him, pulling him even further down to his inevitable doom.

Despite the fact that you both yearn for each other, long to feel one another, engulf yourselves in the others presence. You both stand your ground, eyes glaring despite the emotions hidden behind them, mouths shut and curled into ugly scowls regardless of the words you wish to speak to each other, whispers of promises into each other's ears about being together forever, in spite of not knowing what the future holds.

Bakugou breathes out again, recalling all those months worth of coping mechanisms to exercise when placed in anger inducing situations like this one, the time in therapy spent to better himself, to control himself, to be the best version of himself, for you, hoping that one day you’ll pity him enough to want to come back, knowing full well he would never hold a grudge against you and welcome you back with open arms, intending to never repeat whatever it is he did that made you think of him as so unbearable you couldn't spent another day with him.

You on the other hand, are barely holding in the tears, wanting him to just leave your sight, so you can go back to the world of denial where he didn't look like straight out of a magazine, looking as captivating as always, as if your absence did not have an effect on the hero, of course it wouldn't, why would a quirkless extra have an effect on the great Katsuki Bakugou, that's what he used to call them, right?

“Just leave, Bakugou-” his ears pick up the way your voice breaks at his name, the way you utter it sounds so horrendous, because you aren’t meant to call him Bakugou, you’re meant to call him Katsuki, Katsu, Suki, your Suki. Not- “I hate you.”

The room suddenly spirals. The floor panels misalign themselves into zigzags. Bakugo’s eyes shatter like a glass window. He tries to hold himself against the tears that threaten to fall, stomach wrenching as if reaching from inside of his body, but it’s useless. He brings his hand up close to his chest and sinks his head, letting the words overtake him.

Oblivious to his internal struggle, you pile whatever courage you have left in another attempt to ask him to leave, aware that your body wouldn’t aid you in pushing him away physically, you open your mouth, only to gasp after a moment of silence when he pounces on you and grabs you by the neck, sliding a hand behind your head and leaning your face impossibly closer to his “you fuckin’ hate me? show me you hate me then,”

Then he's pressing his lips against yours, your half foggy mind all too surprised by the flow of motion you can only try to keep up with his feverish kisses, you try to pull away, to push him away, to no avail, Bakugou only stopping his assault on your lips to growl at them again “Show me then, hah?”

But he wouldn't even let you, his grasp on your neck loosening to circle around your back to push you to him even more. His kisses get more and more aggressive, trying his best to show you how much he was hurt by what you said, by what you did, after all this time, almost begging you to not let him have to voice out whatever he’s feeling because he would do so much of a worse job than he is doing now.

The hands you placed on his chest in a failed attempt to push him away are now just placed over his pecs, welcoming their warmth and the way they flex under your touch, your right hand clenching over where his thumping heart is, and he almost sighs in relief, the movement feeling like it holds together all the broken pieces of his heart to make it whole again.

Almost like that gesture calmed him down, Bakugou’s rough touches start to soften, very caring as they glide to your hips before sliding underneath your - oh my God it's your special edition Dynamight hoodie! His amused chuckle tickles your lips as he pulls away when he feels you stiffen at the realization, barely letting you breathe in ease until he places his lips against your ear. “Love how m’still the only one sprawled over yer tits.”

“But I still want the real thing, lemme see ‘em, hm?” And just before throwing a dumb retort and embarrasing yourself even further, the article is tugged eagerly off of your body and thrown haphazardly on the floor. Earning yourself a low whistle when he realises you’re wearing nothing underneath. Bakugou all but shoves you onto the bed, spreading your legs when you try to rub them against each other for any friction, wedging his body neatly between them as his teeth gently bite your soft buds, pulling them slightly before captivating the nipple entirely.

His tongue flicks against your hardening nipple while keeping a watchful eye at the sinful expressions your face makes, his one hand toying with and twisting the other nipple while the other slides down to tease your needy cunt, pressing his fingers against your -fucking soaked- panties, swearing under his breath at the feeling of your walls trying to clench around his fingers just from that one movement. Sitting on his haunches, he lifts your hips with ease to pull your panties right off, eyes travelling between your heaving chest and your exposed pussy. Before lowering himself and finding comfort in biting and sucking your nipples again.

Bakugou’s smirk grows with your moans as his tongue dances over your sensitive nipples, he presses his finger against your walls, and you immediately keen at the prodding feeling that almost feels foreign after all this time apart. His thumb pushing your pussy lip to the side to see you suck his finger in like the good girl he knew you always were.

“Ba-ba-ba,” you struggle to talk, your drool collecting at your lips, stopping you from forming any words as you feel a breeze hit your spit covered tits, whining at the feeling and wanting him to pull your nipples in the warm cavern of his mouth again. Bakugou’s eyes focus on the spit line connecting his bottom lip to your nipple before disconnecting it to smash his lips against yours in an effort to shut your blabbering up.

“Ba-ba, what? y’better not be callin’ me Bakugou with my fingers deep in yer pussy baby, its Katsuki for you, yeah?” he taunts with a fake pout that immediately turns into a grin at the way you hold your pathetic sobs, pressing another finger in your tight cunt, reveling in the wet sounds your pussy makes as he thrusts his fingers in and out of it, soaking his fingers in your slick as he curls them, eager to hear the squelching sounds it would make when his cock is shoved deep inside you. “Or better yet, lemme hear you say Suki, hmm?”

“Suki- p-please, eat me out” you throw your head back and bring your hands down to play with your clit, showing him where you want his lips to be, as if the blond doesn't already know where it is, and he scoffs at the thought, slapping your hand away and giving another slap to your clit, earning a moan from you from the sharp pleasurable pain.

“Yea, yea I fuckin’ know already, needy slut,” he growls, keeping eye contact as he circles your clit with his tongue before sloppily eating out your cunt, making a mess of both drool and your arousal, mumbling “my needy slut.” to himself, and you do hear it, yet you brush it off with the thought that your lust must be messing with your brain.

Your chest still flutters at his words and your walls clench in on his fingers as he curls them again in a way you didn’t know would make you yelp like it did. He thrives off of how your body responses so easily to him, your back arching and the squelching getting louder as his fingers pick up speed, his tongue so skillful in drawing circles around your clit before sucking it again. A whine escapes you when he draws his head away from you, only for you to see the way his eyes darkens, his chin glistening from your arousal when it catches the light.

“Let go for me princess,” he whispers uncharacteristically, making you question if the glint in his eyes is from his desire for you or something else. “Lemme see you fall apart for me, alright?” the way he’s almost begging you to come undone for him takes you by surprise, and your body curls in on itself so fast, not realizing your orgasm was creeping up on you until it hits you. The knot in your stomach breaks as you gush around his fingers, white crossing your vision as he slows his pace to help you come down from your high.

Your shuddering body lays on your bed, eyes unwavering as they meet Katsuki’s, his fingers stuffed in his mouth as he moans around them at your taste. It's all a blur after seeing that unravel, and you’re so woozy that you don’t register him discarding his clothes until he lays above you. Placing himself between your legs as he pumps his cock, hardened from seeing you fall apart on his tongue and fingers, his tip leaking precum and burning a bright red.

His movement is almost too quick for you as he dips his head into your leaking hole before pulling right back, a breathless chuckle escaping him when you whine and roll your hips and try to suck him in again, wanting to feel the stretch of him inside of you.

“Didja wanna say somethin’ princess?” he taunts you, one of his hands holding you down by your stomach while the other is wrapped around his length, teasing you in the ways that he knows drive you crazy, he leans in, using the tip of his cock to spread your pussy lips open and running it along your slit to coat it with your arousal.

“Katshu, p-please I-” you hiccup, your fists tightening on your bed sheet as you try to rock your hips up get more than just his leaking tip, but your begging is always interrupted when he isn't hearing what he wants you to say.

“Say you love me.”

You freeze at his demand, your widening eyes looking up at him before you pout your lips, not thinking about surrendering to him, no matter how much you want your cunt stuffed full of him right now.

“I don’love yooou-” you gasp as katsuki’s grip onto your waist tightens and you feel as he gives a thrust into your sopping cunt, arching your back at the burning stretch of being filled up by his thick cock. Katsuki’s hand traces down your left thigh before cupping behind your knee, hiking your leg up and out, close to your chest to expose more of yourself to him, wanting nothing more than to see his dick seething in and out of your tight pretty pussy, and by almost muscle memory, you did the same thing with your right leg, replacing his hands with your own, presenting yourself to him.

“Y’see that? Fuckin’ know you like the back of m’hand, y’think someones gonna- ah, take the fucking time to work you like I did?” he's right, absolutely right, he ruined you for any other potential lovers and he loved it with every fiber in his being, knowing this means you’re always going to be wrapped around his finger. You moan as he pushes more of himself into you, bottoming out and holding one of your tits and squeezing when he feels your walls do the same to his cock.

You hate it, after all this time, you’re still a blubbering mess the second he was one fucking inch deep in your pussy, sucking him in and clawing at his back begging for more. No self respect, no dignity, you hate it, how come after all this time he gets to come here and fuck you like you belong to him, like you’ve belonged to him despite everything that has happened.

You only realize that your eyes are closed when Katsuki’s breath hits your face, and you open them wide, noting how wet your lashes have gotten from your tears, only for him to kiss at the tears gliding along your right temple and licking the ones on your left. He breathes out a chuckle and when he leans to look at your eyes, the humor and menace you expect to see in his eyes are nowhere to be found, clouded by a solemn look instead.

“What? Yer cryin on me now, huh? Y’think a few tears are stoppin’ me?” His voice is masked so well, because he sounds like he was simply enjoying a game, like an imp that had branched from a demon. “C’mon, not gonna tell the birthday boy you love’em?”

“I don't love you, I hate you, h-hate you-” you keen as drool pools at your lips, your body betraying you as it shakes from pleasure, letting go of your legs to wrap them around his slim waist, to bring him in closer, if that was even possible, stopping his deep thrusts that were brushing up against your cervix, it feels pathetic, denying him the pleasure of telling him you love him while clinging onto him like he's your last breath of fresh air, because in a way, you feel like he is, like him leaving would just collapse your lungs and stop your heart from beating, you know that he’s gonna leave you. While your spent body would lay on your bed and you'd cry because you didn't tell him you love him, yet you wouldn’t ask him to stay, knowing deep down that you don't deserve it, you don't deserve him.

You feel his weight on top of you as he rests his elbows by your head, his lips brushing against your ear as he repeats again with every shallow thrust into your warm insides, his cock twitching from time to time in your walls. “You love me.” he says it once, twice, thrice. Every time his voice lowers more and more to a broken whisper, almost a plea instead of the cocky taunt he started off with.

Your legs are starting to ache from the grip they have around him, so you loosen up, your mind easy since his thrusts haven’t been rough nor painful. And when you do, you notice two things immediately, first, your thighs are so soaked from how he's making you feel, probably ruining your bedsheet at this point, second, he pushed his chest away from yours to look you directly in the eyes, one hand molding around your thigh to keep it from wrapping around him again while the other is placed on your stomach, his thumb inching closer and closer to your clit, wanting to toy with it, toy with you, but not ready to give you any satisfaction until you admit to him, please just tell him, that you do still love him. All insecurities, all battle scars, all emotional constipation as layers he covers himself with, that no one gives a fuck to peel off, to see who he really was, except you.

His red eyes lock onto yours as your chest heaves with breathless sobs at the lost of his warmth, and when you think he's lowering himself back down, he pulls out suddenly, sending a shiver down your spine as you gasp, now feeling like you're frozen over, your tears coming from lack of both pleasure and warmth.

Suddenly your face is met with the pillow and you feel his hands on your hips as he lifts them up and off the bed, your half intoxicated, half aroused mind barely registering that you’ve been flipped over on your stomach until you feel his cock prodding at your cunt, easily sliding in like they’ve been made to be warmed up in there, when you know Katsuki would argue that your pussy was made just for him and to warm his dick.

He presses his chest against your back, pushing you onto the bed as he thrusts his hips roughly, pulling out fully before seething himself right back in, your moans and whimpers muffled by your pillow from being pushed down by his hand as his other holds your hips firmly.

Then what happened next probably shocked him more than you, despite how delirious you’ve become due to his relentless thrusting, his dripping tears feel cool on your bare warm shoulder, one by one as his groans and moans turn into strangled sobs, before Katsuki digs his teeth into that shoulder, to both hear you scream and to muffle his cries from you.

“because I love you” he sobs, detaching his teeth from their grip and kissing the bite marks before resting his forehead against it, but his thrusts never cease, getting sloppier, as if the confession is pushing him off the edge. Dragging the tip of his nose from your bitten and bleeding shoulder to the back of your ear, his own face flush and warm against you as he breathes harshly against your ear and kisses along it.

“So-” he moans again, the hand behind your neck now turning your face so he could see your fucked out expression, the tears streaming down your face and the drool that pools under your cheeks, with your tongue lolled out and your eyes barely focusing on his form.

“You better say you do too, becau-”

“I love you.” you gush, like saying it is a breath of fresh air, your eyes never leaving his teary ones, your gaze so intense and fixated on him with no regards to the way the snapping of his hips against yours is shaking your entire body against the bed.

With new found vigor from your confession, Katsuki grabs onto the meat of your ass, hammering into you from behind with force that pushes you against the bed even further, your pulled hair jerking your head back so he can listen to the lewd noises you are making, long forgotten the will to cover your pleasure and hiding your moans.

Your ass heavily slaps against his thighs as he grabs your hips with both hands and pounds into your sopping wet cunt, relishing in the way you’re begging for him. “Y’like it when I fuck you baby, hmm? Like it when I stuff you so fuckin’ full of me?” He growls, feeling you push your ass back every time you repeat ‘yes’ to his questions. “Yes, yes love it, love you, please please don’t stop, please ‘Suki. Yes, gonna cum ‘Suki please” you weep, your head pounding from the grip he had on your hair and your eyes crossing as you feel his thrusts stutter, getting sloppier when you bounce your ass against him, his hand coming down and slapping it.

“That's fuckin’ right, cum on this cock, c’mon baby” he brings four of his fingers to rub your clit with urgency, and you can’t help but arch your back as your orgasm hits you again, screeching as you feel your walls tightening on him, squeezing him for what he’s worth. “F-fuck ah, y-you’re so- Fuck” his heavy weight falls on you as he fills you to the brim with his milky seed, forehead pressed against your shoulder as he rocks his hips against you, pushing more of his load inside before slowly pulling out, gaze flutters down to where your bodies were once joined, seeing your mixed arousal seeping out of your hole and he has half a mind to push it back in with his fingers.

But he flips you over effortlessly, the sight of your crossed out eyes and wet cheeks squeezing his chest at the realization he might’ve been too rough on you, so he wipes your cheek with the palm of his hands and revels in the way you lean towards him, turning your face to kiss his palm. “Say it again.” barely a whisper, as you flip his hand and kiss the back of it as well, and he almost repeats himself, thinking you didn’t hear him, but your hands reach up and cup his face, bringing him towards you. “I love you Katsuki” and goddamn if that wasn’t the most beautiful thing you’ve ever spoken. “Again,” “I love you, Katsuki” “Again,” you giggle, and he knows that's probably what angels sound like.

Your thumb brushes over his warm cheeks, red from showing vulnerability, and you pull him even closer, “Happy birthday, ‘Suki.”

“Yea,” He breaths out, his lips barely brushing against your bitten and bruised ones. “It really fuckin’ is.”

aaaaaaaaah! Hope you enjoyed it! Lemme know what you think of the smut, I also changed my writing style from past tenses to present tenses or tried to at least

Borrowers (taglist):

if you want to be tagged with for any of my fics let me know ♡

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watermelonlovershigh · 4 years ago

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Baby Spits Up During Nightly Feedings

(Thank you for suggesting the #10 one shot idea from my I Need Help post with potential one shot ideas. Sorry for any mistakes that may be in this. Because I'm not home like I usually am for the week, I wasn't as focused as I'd like to have been when reviewing and editing this.)

Honestly, barely sicfic & mostly fluff

Context to help you read this easier:

(Baby is 4 weeks old/Dunkirk Harry era/You're married)

It's currently 3 am and me and Harry are in-n-out of broken sleep due to our newborn baby. She's 4 weeks old and wakes up every 3 to 4 hours for feedings. The last time she woke up to be feed was around 12. We heard her whimper and start crying through the baby monitor, so I got up to go in her nursery and feed her, sitting on the rocker in the corner of her room. After I burped her, she fell right back to sleep and I placed her back in her crib and sleepily made my way back into bed with my husband.

Now about 5 minutes after 3, we hear the baby monitor go off again, which is to be expected at this point. Four weeks of having our beautiful baby girl, we know how long she sleeps before she's hungry again. That also creates exhaustion in both Harry and I. More exhaustion for me though because I'm still healing from giving birth and I'm the one that has to feed her from my body when she's hungry. That's why this time when the monitor goes off Harry tiredly mumbles, "I'll go get her and bring her to you, alright."

When Harry slips out of the bed with hooded eyes, messy curls, and low riding gray joggers that show his v line, I blindly slip my shirt off to make it easier to feed her when he returns with our tiny baby. A minute later, Harry returns with a fussy baby in his tattooed arms, ready to be fed. He walks over to the lamp on my bedside table and turns it on, leaving a warm glow in the room. Then he pulls back the blankets that's covering my naked chest and gently lays her small body between my boobs. Once our baby is on my bare chest, Harry carefully grabs one of my boobs in his hand and positions my nipple to her small mouth. "Is she latched on correctly?" he asks, not being able to see fully see due to her facing away from him.

I look down at my nipple she has in her mouth and can see her mouth doing subtle sucking motions along with feeling and the sounds the sucking she's doing with that strong mouth of hers. "Mhm I believe so. Come back in bed please." I respond. Harry leaves the lamp on and walks around the bed to crawl under the warm covers again. He scoots his pillow higher up and closer to mine, in the middle of the bed. Then he turns on his side and places a ring-less hand over our baby's back, gently rubbing it in soothing patterns and watches her while she eats.

Harry loves watching our baby feed from me. Not in a sexual way because its from my boobs that he adores so much during sex or foreplay. Its more of a fascination for him. Being fascinated with how my breast can produce milk to help our baby grow and become strong. Often when I'm breast feeding, no matter the time of day or place of feeding, he'll sit and watch. I never mind honestly. Harry is my husband after all, so I'm very comfortable around him.

As he's half consciously watching the baby feed from my boob, I'm laying flat on my back with my eyes closed, just about to doze off to sleep from the sleep deprivation my body is in. I'm not afraid to fall asleep because I know Harry is awake and watching her. So I do feel comfortable enough to doze off with her on my chest though I'm trying to keep awake to burp her when she's finished. I can feel Harry glancing at me and he's picking up on my battle with sleep. "It's okay to fall asleep. I've got her. When she's finished, I'll burp her and put her back to bed alright." he whispers quietly to me.

Knowing I have full permission to fall asleep, my mind falls blank as I doze into a much needed slumber. A few minutes later our baby girl detaches from my right nipple. Harry sits up and lifts her from my chest, pulling the covers back over my exposed upper body, and places her on his naked and tattooed chest carefully. He reaches over to his nightstand where a burping cloth lays and grabs it to place over his shoulder. Then he properly situates her upright over his shoulder to begin burping.

Usually it takes no longer than two minutes to burp her after a feeding, but for some reason tonight she isn't burping. "Come on my darling. Burp for daddy please so we can go to sleep." Harry coos in her ear softly while patting her back. She just makes a grunting noise like she's got a bit of a tummy ache due to not burping yet. Harry repositions her to where she's cradled in his arms and looks down at her. Our baby's face is scrunched up in discomfort. "Why won't you burp huh? Is your tummy hurting?" he questions his daughter in a playful yet worriedly manner. Obviously she can't respond to her daddy's question, so Harry just places a hand on her belly and starts rubbing gentle circles over it, thinking it'll help her tummy ache. It soothes her for a minute but Harry knows she must burp. So he places her back over his shoulder and attempts to burp her again.

After about ten light taps to her small back, she lets out a burping sound but its much more than a burp. It's a sickly burp that came along with vomit. Our poor baby girl projectile vomits a stream of white milk down her daddy's back and on the pillow underneath him. "Shit." Harry whisper yells, while jumping up from the bed out of quick reflexes. His sudden movements startle me awake.

"What Harry? What's happening?" I question my husband with a confused brain due to the sleep I was just in.

"She just spit up all down my back and on my pillow while I was burping her." Harry replies back while shushing the now crying baby in his arms.

I look over with blurry vision and see the spit up puddle on his pillow. "Why'd she throw up? Does she have a tummy ache?" I ask him worriedly. The one thing that stresses me out most with having a newborn is they can't communicate to let people know when somethings wrong.

"I'm not sure. She wouldn't burp for me, so I gave her a belly rub and tried to burp her again. Well she burped alright but it wasn't just air that came with it. It was her meal as well." he responds.

I make my way out of the bed and go to our master bathroom to fetch a damp cloth. I notice I'm still topless at the moment but I don't really care. Once I have the warm damp clothes, I make my way over to Harry who's calming our baby down. I walk behind him and began cleaning up the spit up that's running down his back. "I think her burp just got stuck and when it was finally ready to come out, she accidently brought up the milk too." I tell Harry. "She seems alright now so I don't think she's actually sick or anything."

Once I have cleaned Harry's back off, I carefully wipe our babies mouth off to make sure she doesn't have any dried spit up on her face. Then I go to our hall closet and find a clean pillow case for his dirtied pillow. While changing his pillow case, Harry asks, "Do you mind if she sleeps in her bassinet in our room for the rest of the early morning? You know, to keep an eye on her and to have easy access to her when she needs to feed again."

"Yeah of course babe. Hand her to me and go grab the bassinet." Harry hands the sleeping baby to me after I've changed his pillow case and goes to the nursery to fetch her light pink bassinet bed. I sit on the edge of the bed waiting on him to return. When he returns, he has a diaper, wipes, and the bassinet in his arms and hands.

"I'll place it on my side of the bed so you don't have to get up to get her when she's hungry. I can just hand her to you." Harry speaks lowly in his deep accent. Once the bassinet is sat on the floor by his side of the bed, I hand him our baby again and he lays her down on our bed to change her wet diaper. When he was holding her moments ago, he felt her heavy diaper, so that's how he knew to grab one when in the nursery. He unbuttons her onesie and takes off her soiled diaper. Then he takes a wet wipe and gently wipes her off so she doesn't get a rash from dried pee left on her. After she's all clean, he puts the fresh diaper on her and rebuttons her onesie.

Lastly, he slowly picks her up and places her in her bassinet and pulls her blanket up on her to keep her body warm. Once our baby is back to peacefully sleeping, Harry hands me the pee filled diaper and I toss it into the bin located in our bathroom. Then I turn the lamp off and we both crawl back under the warm blankets. Harry pulls me to his body and I curl up into his side. My breast still naked under the blankets but I know the baby will need to be feed again in a short amount of time, so there is no use in putting a shirt back on. Not long after me and Harry cuddle each other, we are both back asleep due to how tired we both are as new parents, but we are happily tired because we wouldn't trade our baby girl for the world.

MASTERLIST

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cuttoothed · 4 years ago

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A little fic for @jonsimsandcats and also inspired by some adorable art on discord! Featuring notes on kitten rearing, and of course some Jmart because it’s me.

Jon works at the Institute here, but a non-spooky version of it!

Martin is doing a final check on the fish tanks when he hears the bell above the front door jingle. He sighs; he knew he should have locked up first. Just his luck.

“This is your fault,” he tells the angelfish balefully. They don’t seem contrite, too busy nosing in the fine gravel for any food they’ve missed. Martin walks out to the front of the shop, preparing his best customer service smile to tell whoever’s come in at—he glances at his watch—three minutes past eight that they’re closed, and no, they can’t just wander around for a few minutes to look at the animals. Honestly, some people seem to think there’s no difference between a pet shop and an art gallery.

There’s a man standing at the front counter, looking around anxiously, a bundled up jumper clutched against his chest.

“Sorry, we’re—” Martin begins, and that’s as far as he gets before the man unleashes a frantic tirade.

“Please!” the man says, “I need your help, I-I’m not sure they’re breathing and they were out there for hours on their own, I know you’re not supposed to move them in case their mother comes back but I couldn’t just—just leave knowing they were still there, and all the vet offices nearby are closed, this was the only place I could think of!”

The man is wild eyed, almost panicked, and Martin lifts both hands in an appeasing gesture.

“Woah,” he says, “Uh, maybe start from the beginning again? Slowly?”

“Right, ah, sorry. Sorry. I spotted them this morning, under a bush just outside my work.” The man sets the bundle of jumper down on the counter, and unfolds it to reveal two tiny scraps of fur: one gray, one black. Kittens, Martin realizes, so small they can only be a week or so old; certainly not old enough to be without their mother.

“I left them alone, because I’ve heard that the mother usually comes back after a little while. A-and I meant to go and check on them again during the day, make sure.” The man sounds anguished now, his face miserable. “But I—I got caught up in work, forgot about it. It was only when I was leaving that I remembered. And they were still there, on their own. Barely moving. Please—is there anything we can do?”

Martin looks down at the tiny creatures in their nest of wool; he can just about see the shallow in-out of their breathing. All day outside alone, at their age, the odds aren’t great. But he’s met enough kittens to know that they’re shockingly resilient little sods, and he’s never given up on a so-called hopeless case before. He’s not about to start now.

“You did the right thing moving them,” he assures the man, moving to flip the sign on the door to CLOSED. “We need to get them warmed up and get some food into them. Body heat is the best thing for them right now—can you start warming them with your hands?”

“Oh—ah, yes,” says the man, turning to his bundle of jumper with a worried frown. Martin leaves him there while he rushes around the shop, grabbing kitten milk replacer and nursing bottles, and then into the back to heat two mugs of water in the microwave while he makes up the bottles. He pops them into the mugs to warm, and brings the whole lot out to the front. The man now has a kitten in each hand, and is holding them pressed carefully to his chest for additional warmth; his expression is still worried, but also desperately tender, and Martin feels a pang of something behind his ribs at the sight.

“One of them is moving,” the man says eagerly as Martin sets the bottles down. Martin can see the gray kitten wriggling weakly in the man’s grip, responding to the heat. Its sibling is still motionless, and Martin’s heart sinks a little.

“That’s great,” he says. “Hold onto her for another minute, and let me see if I can get her sister moving too.”

He holds out a hand, and the man almost reluctantly passes him the black kitten. Martin doesn’t try to notice that the man has lovely hands, with long, slim fingers, narrow wrist jutting out of his shirt sleeve, but, well, he notices a bit. He turns his attention to the kitten; he can’t make out the motion of its breathing anymore. He takes it in both hands and starts to massage it gently. It lies limp in his palms, head lolling, and Martin starts to feel despair crawling cold up his spine.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “You can do it.” The man is watching him anxiously, the gray kitten cradled against his chest, and Martin knows he can’t give up. He keeps rubbing the kitten’s small body, trying to will warmth and life back into the tiny, fragile form. At last, after what seems like an eternity, the kitten squirms in his hands and a faint, plaintive mew escapes it. An answering mew comes from the gray kitten, and Martin laughs, relief washing over him.

“Right, let’s see if we can get them to eat.”

After checking that they’re not too chilled to feed, Martin tests each of the kittens with a drop of formula on their tongue; thankfully they both seem able to swallow without difficulty. He shows the man how to feed the gray kitten, holding its body in a neutral position with the bottle tilted for a gentle flow. It doesn’t take long for the kittens to figure out the process, and Martin can feel the tug on the bottle as his kitten begins to suckle.

“Oh,” he hears softly from beside him, and turns to see the man gazing in delight at the gray kitten, whose tiny, unfurled ears are twitching as it sucks.

“She’s doing great,” Martin comments. “Good job.” The man gives him a tentative, pleased smile, and Martin still isn’t trying to notice but it’s a very nice smile. “I’m Martin, by the way.”

“Jonathan Sims—Jon,” says the man, and then gives a small, tense laugh. “God, I haven’t even apologized for storming in here while you were clearly trying to close up for the night.”

“That’s all right, I didn’t have any exciting plans tonight anyway. I’d much rather be spending time with these little beauties.”

Jon smiles again, more sure this time, and all right, maybe Martin deliberately notices the dimple in his right cheek. Just a bit.

Once the kittens are fed, Martin shows Jon how to stimulate them; both of them only pee a little—poor things are dehydrated—but it’s a good sign. They clean them up and tuck them back into the nest of Jon’s jumper, where they curl up into a small puddle of black and gray. Jon gives a sigh that’s somewhere between relieved and exhausted.

“Thank you,” he says. “I, ah, I think I forgot to say that as well. You know a lot about this.”

“I volunteer at a shelter, there are a lot of kittens. If you like, I can take them for tonight and bring them in tomorrow?”

“Ah,” says Jon. “Do you think that’s—I mean...I-I’m not sure I’d feel right, handing them off to someone else. Not that I think you’re not capable!” he rushes to add, and Martin finds himself smiling.

“No, I get it. You found them, you want to take care of them. I’ll warn you, though, it’s a big commitment. For the first couple of weeks you have to feed them every two hours, even during the night, and then it’s every three or four hours until they start weaning. It’s like having a newborn baby.”

“I don’t get much sleep generally,” says Jon. “At least this way I’ll have something to do while I’m up all night. And my work is—well, I’ll explain the situation.”

He looks set on it, brow furrowed with determination. Martin considers arguing more: that a shelter will be better equipped to care for the kittens, that there’s no guarantee they’ll survive in any case, that Jon doesn’t know what he’s signing up for. But the shelters are always crowded, and kittens this young have simple needs, and really, a dedicated foster parent—armed with the right knowledge—is probably the best thing for them.

“Right,” he says, “Let’s make sure these two are well wrapped up before you take them home.”

He scrounges a cardboard box from the back and they settle the kittens into it, still wrapped in Jon’s jumper along with a soft fleece blanket printed with cartoon fish. Martin gathers a couple of cartons of liquid formula and extra bottles to get them started, and shows Jon how to pierce the nipple so the flow isn’t too strong.

“It should be warmed to body temperature,” he explains, “But not directly in the microwave—put the bottles in heated water, like I did earlier. Do you have a hot water bottle?”

“Yes, I do,” says Jon, frowning intently as he listens. Martin nods.

“It’s better than a heating pad at this age, they’re less likely to get overheated. Don’t make it too hot—body temperature, again—and wrap it in a blanket so they’re not touching it directly.”

“Got it,” says Jon firmly, and Martin believes him. He bags up the formula and bottles and an extra pet blanket, and presses them into the hands of a startled Jon; the till is shut off for the night, but Martin can explain and pay for the items tomorrow.

“What’s your phone number?” he asks, and Jon looks even more startled.

“S-sorry?”

“Or your email. I’m going to send you some links—videos, a couple of good blogs that should be helpful.”

“Oh, ah, right. Of course.” Jon recites his number and Martin saves it under “Jon (Kittens).” He peeks into the box one last time before Jon scoops it up, and sees the kittens snuggled in the folds of the jumper, paws waving in little kitten dreams.

“Thank you again, Martin,” says Jon. “I honestly don’t know what I would have done without you tonight.” His tone is shy but genuine, and it sends warmth through Martin’s chest and up into his cheeks.

“Any time,” Martin says. “And feel free to text me if you need anything—if you have a question or...anything. Or call me if you like.” He’s aware he’s rambling a bit, but it’s not every day an attractive man says that he doesn’t know what he would have done without you, so he can hardly be blamed.

“I will,” says Jon solemnly.

He doesn’t text Martin any questions that night, but when Martin sends him the links to a youtube channel and three blog posts on kitten care, he replies:

Thank you :)

Martin spends most of the rest of the night wondering what that smiley face means.

He doesn’t necessarily expect to see Jon again, and certainly doesn’t expect to see him the very next day. But just before one o’clock in the afternoon the bell above the door jingles and there’s Jon, looking tired and more than a bit sheepish.

“I got all the way into work this morning before I realized I’d never paid for any of the things you gave me,” he says, reaching for his wallet.

“Those were gifts,” Martin tells him firmly. “Sort of a “welcome to foster parenthood” care basket?”

“No, I couldn’t let you—” Jon starts to protest, but Martin shakes his head emphatically.

“It’s no big deal, honestly. I get an employee discount anyway.”

“I...well, then I suppose I need to thank you yet again,” says Jon.

“It’s becoming a bit of a habit,” Martin jokes, grinning, and Jon smiles in return. He hesitates a moment before continuing:

“Maybe I could buy you lunch instead, then? To pay you back.”

“There’s no need, honestly,” says Martin, even as his brain berates him: What are you doing, idiot, he’s asking you to have lunch with him? Say yes!

“Please, I’d like to,” Jon says, and then gives a thoughtful frown. “Only if you want to, of course, don’t feel obligated—”

“I’m on lunch in five minutes,” Martin blurts out before he can overthink it.

“Great!” says Jon, sounding pleased. “If you have time, we could go by my office as well and visit the kittens. I just fed them before I came to see you.”

Before I came to see you, not before I came to pay you back, and Martin feels that warmth crawling up towards his cheeks again. Even if Jon’s intentions are purely friendly rather than...anything else, well, Martin could always use more friends.

“How were they last night?” he asks, and the smile that spreads across Jon’s face this time is pure delight.

“Oh I barely got an hour’s sleep,” he says, waving a hand. “And today they’re sitting under my desk reminding me every couple of hours that they need attention and that they are far more important than whatever I’m working on. They’re perfect.”

“Sounds like cat parenthood suits you,” Martin teases gently, and Jon laughs.

“I think it rather does.”

Lunch is...nice, and only slightly awkward in the “getting to know a new person” sort of way. Jon is serious, but also funny in an understated, acerbic way, and there’s a gentleness to him that wouldn’t be immediately apparent, if Martin hadn’t seen him cradling two tiny, fragile lives to his chest last night. He’s the kind of person Martin would like to know better, he thinks.

Afterwards they go to Jon’s workplace, which is extremely academic with a brass nameplate by the door and everything, and down to the basement office where Jon works; Martin doesn’t really know what archiving entails, but it looks like mostly a bloody great pile of paperwork. Jon’s two colleagues give Martin friendly and extremely curious glances as they pass; Jon pointedly ignores them in favor of directing Martin to his desk and the cardboard box sitting beneath it.

When Martin glances inside, the two kittens are curled up in the folds of the fish-print blanket, lying against the shape of what he assumes is the hot water bottle. Their bellies already look rounder than they were last night, thanks to regular feeding, and their limbs twitch as they sleep.

“I’ll take them to the vet for a check up after work,” Jon murmurs quietly, gazing down at them with a soft expression. Martin recognizes that look of adoration, and he knows this pair won’t be going to a shelter or anywhere else; they’ve found their home with Jon.

“They’re lucky you found them,” he says, and Jon smiles self-consciously.

“I think I’m the one who was lucky,” he says.

They spend a bit more time with the kittens, and then Martin realizes that it’s about time he got back to work if he doesn’t want to get in trouble. He excuses himself, waving goodbye to Jon’s still curious colleagues, and Jon walks him out to the grand front entrance of the building.

“Thanks again for lunch,” he says. “And—you have my number, right? The offer is open, if you need anything, just text me.”

“I will,” says Jon. “And, ah, let me know if you’d like to come and see the kittens again. Any day. Well, most days,” he corrects himself. “We could, ah, maybe have lunch again?”

“That sounds...really nice,” says Martin. Jon smiles, pleased, and Martin isn’t trying to notice the faint flush that spreads across his face, but it’s very cute anyway.

As he walks back to work, Martin’s phone vibrates with a text. It’s a picture of the kittens, curled up on top of each other, with the message:

Come back and see us soon!

Martin grins; the kittens, he thinks, weren’t the only ones lucky to be found last night.

#the magnus archives #jonsimsandcats2021 #my fic #jonmartin

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seijorhi · 4 years ago

Text

Imitation

Commission for @beany-goes-dark I hope you like it, bby!

Kuroo Tetsurou x female reader

TW kidnapping/captivity, stockholm syndrome, referenced unnamed character death, mindbreak, implied abuse, forced pregnancy, breeding kink (kinda?), unhealthy relationships

He calls you kitten, mostly. Sometimes sweetheart. You don’t mind the pet names, especially when he says them so affectionately, with that lazy, indulgent smirk of his. It’s the other name that bothers you, the one that slips out in the heat of him fucking you, the one he whispers in the early hours before dawn when he thinks you’re fast asleep.

Her name.

It’s soft and pretty, spoken with a reverence that belongs in holy places, edged with a bitter wistfulness that makes something small inside of you shatter into a thousand pieces every time you hear it.

There are pictures of her; on his desk, lining the walls. One time when he let you sleep in his bed you found one lying under your pillow - hers at one point, you guess. The photo couldn’t have been more than a few years old, but it was worn, the edges crinkled and the image a little faded. You wonder how many nights he’s wasted lying in bed staring at it, fingers slowly tracing the lines of her face.

You wonder whether he pulls it out after he’s finished with you for the night, like he’s returning to her when all is said and done.

She’s beautiful. Even with tears in her eyes, the smile on her frozen face strained and unnatural, she’s gorgeous. You suppose it’s not hard to see why he fell for her in the first place.

And you can see why he chose you. She’s prettier than you by far, there’s no denying that, but your hair is similar, and there’s something in the shape of her face, the colour of your eyes. You might not be identical, but it’s more than just a passing resemblance.

And under the dim, flickering lights of his basement, you suppose it’s good enough.

Good enough means you get to eat. Not stale bread and plain rice spaced too far apart, but home cooked meals. Bowls of soup and curries, fresh fruit and warm drinks, once he even brought you dessert - chocolate dipped strawberries. Her favourite. He’d smiled as he fed them to you, hazel eyes darkening as you obediently licked and sucked the sweet, red juice from the fingers he slid between your lips.

Such a good girl for him.

Good girls get rewarded. A soft mattress. Blankets. Pretty clothes. Kuroo likes to spoil you when you play along. He’s nicer, too. You get kisses instead of punishments, and sometimes when he’s finished taking what he needs, he’ll stay - strong, muscular arms curled around your waist, your head tucked against his shoulder as he strokes your hair and hums an unfamiliar tune.

You can almost pretend there’s not a chain locked around your ankle when he kisses you and tells you how much he loves you. How badly he needs you.

Not you. Never you. You’ll never be her.

And it’s cruel, you think in the dead of the night when sleep is just out of reach, the way Kuroo treats you. Not the punishments or the icy indifference and isolation he subjects you to when you’re anything less than perfect, but the way he toys with you.

For as much as he wants you to be her, Kuroo never fails to remind you that you’re not.

Your voice isn’t hers, you say and do the wrong things - you can’t love him like she did. And when he’s reminded of that, your adoring captor turns cold. He becomes unloving. Distant.

Irritated.

Sometimes you catch him staring, those dark eyes flickering intently across your face, and you know that it’s not you he’s seeing - only to watch as they harden, all the softness and love leaching from hazel depths as the illusion fades.

There were others before you.

You don’t know how many, or what happened to them, but the day Kuroo brought home a friend, and apathetic, cat-like eyes appraise you, your suspicions were all but confirmed.

“Another one, Kuroo?” he scoffs, barely sparing you another glance.

Your captor ignores the comment entirely, and a moment later you’re tugged into his lap to be played with and fussed over as the two old friends catch up.

Kenma doesn’t visit often and rarely without Kuroo, but on the days Kuroo decides you’ve been good enough to roam the house freely, sometimes you catch him slipping in and out. He doesn’t pay you any mind, and why would he?

You’re just the latest plaything. A temporary pet.

Until the day you finally gather the courage to speak, clinging to the corner of the living room wall, barely peeking your head out.

“What happened to her?”

It’s obvious who you’re referring to.

And maybe it’s the fresh bruises that mar your pretty skin, or maybe he just doesn’t care to keep Kuroo’s secrets anymore, because he lets out a quiet sigh.

“She died.”

You flinch at his bluntness, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip. The disdain on Kenma’s face is almost enough for you to tuck tail and run, and pray that he doesn’t tell Kuroo that you’ve been misbehaving, but as he turns to leave, you realise that if you don’t ask now, you might never get another chance, and you have to know.

“Did he kill her?”

He falters, just for a second.

“No,” he says. Slowly, he turns - not to face you, but to stare at a photograph sitting by the coffee table; Kuroo, with his arms wrapped around her, his lips pressed to her cheek in a loving kiss. If you ignore the clear discomfort on her face, the tears glistening in her eyes, it makes for a cute picture. You loathe the very sight of it. “She got pregnant and went into labour too early. He wouldn’t take her to the hospital, didn’t want to risk it, I guess.” He shrugs, but when he glances back at you there’s an uncharacteristic hardness to his features. “They didn’t make it.”

Nausea twists at your gut, and for one single moment, your heart breaks for her. For him. You’ve never really believed in soulmates or true love, but you have to wonder if that’s what she was to Kuroo. The be all, end all.

She must have been, for him to still be trying to keep her alive years later.

As if he can read the thoughts racing through your mind, golden eyes narrow into a withering scowl. “You’ll never come close to replacing her.”

It’s more than apathy, you realise. He hates you - well, not you specifically, but whatever you represent. He might not say anything to Kuroo, at least not within your earshot, but it’s clear that Kenma couldn’t care less whether you lived or died at the hands of his friend.

He turns to leave then, apparently done with the conversation, but you can’t stop the words that tumble from your lips. “How many?”

Kenma doesn’t acknowledge that he even heard the question, at least not until he reaches the front door. When he speaks, his voice is so quiet that you barely catch it at all. “You’re the fourth.”

In the beginning, it was a method of survival. It was obvious that Kuroo was bigger than you, stronger too. When he told you that you were his, when he called you by her name, you didn’t argue. You played your role - it was better, wasn’t it, to feed into the delusion than to make him mad by trying to break it?

But it’s been months now. Nobody is coming for you, nobody but him cares what happens to you anymore. You’re no closer to figuring out a way to escape, and you’re terrified that if you try and he catches you, you’ll end up like the others.

Kuroo… can be nice. Loving, even. He’s handsome and he takes care of you, when you’re good. He doesn’t enjoy inflicting pain, he doesn’t hurt you unless you deserve it. You need him - he’s the one who feeds you, who gives you clothes to wear, shelters you. If he decides tomorrow that you’re not good enough, what’s to stop him from ending it right then and there?

It’s not like you could fight him off, months locked in his basement have robbed you of what little physical strength you had left. It’s not like anybody else could stop him, or would even care to.

You’d die, and just like the other’s before you, you’d be forgotten, nothing but a pale imitation that quickly wore out its usefulness.

He might never love you like he loved her. And Kenma’s right, you won’t ever be able to replace her, but maybe… maybe if you give him what he wants, what he lost, he could find a way to love you for you.

You can give him the baby he wants.

Hours later, when the front door unlocks and Kuroo walks in, he barely has a chance to drop his bag and kick off his shoes before you’re bouncing towards him. Strong arms catch you when you leap, securing you against his chest as your legs wrap around his hips, “Did you miss me that much, kitten?” he asks with a grin, walking the both of you inside.

“I love you,” you breathlessly answer instead, reaching up to tangle a hand in raven locks and draw him down into a desperate, needy kiss before he has a chance to reply.

It’ll be enough.

It has to be.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere kuroo #yandere kuroo x reader #yandere kuroo tetsurou #yandere kuroo tetsuro x reader #tw stockholm syndrome #tw kidnapping #tw abuse #tw pregnancy #tw breeding kink #tw mindbreak #tw character death

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nineteenninety-six · 4 years ago

Text

A Stray and A Baby

This wasn’t meant to be so long but at the same time, it was meant to be longer so lol. Repost since tumblr sucks

(Y/N) had heard soft meowing ever since she had woken up but despite looking around, she could find where it was coming from. They didn’t have a cat so there it was definitely not coming from within in the house and she had checked the back garden to the best of her abilities but she couldn’t find anything there either and Cyril was off with Alfie so it wasn’t anything he could have possibly dragged in.

The meowing had continued for the entire day and it was driving (Y/N) crazy as she tried to figure out where it was coming from but being pregnant had hindered her from turning the place upside down trying to look for it, so she waited until Alfie returned home, hoping that he would be able to help her.

.•° ✿ °•.

Alfie came through the front door just as (Y/N) finished dinner like clockwork. He fed Cyril his dinner and washed his hands before he joined her at the kitchen table and they completed dinner in between asking how each other's day was.

Just as Alfie stood up to take their empty plates to the kitchen, (Y/N) heard the meowing again.

“Alf, wait! Can you hear that?”

Alfie paused and once again there was a meow, “Sounds like ah cat”

“Mmh” (Y/N) agreed, “I’ve been hearing it all day but I haven’t been able to find out where it’s coming from.”

“Where have you been looking?”Alfie asked as he made his way into the kitchen.

“I don’t think it’s coming from within the house so I checked the back garden but I couldn’t see anything”

“You haven’t checked the front?”

(Y/N) shook her head.

Alfie let out a hefty sigh as he walked towards the front door, “Well, c’mon then, I know you won’t let this go unless you find the thing that’s causing the noise”

(Y/N) grinned as she pulled on her coat and slipped on her outside shoes as she followed him.

The two of them paced in front of their house, making noises in hopes that the cat reacted but no cat appeared. They got odd looks from people walking down the street but they didn’t care.

Just as they were about to give up, a shuffling noise came from one of their bins and (Y/N) made her way over to investigate. When she peered into the bin, she gasped at what she saw,

“Alfie, it’s a kitten!”

She reached into the bin to try and take it out but the scared kitten freaked out causing the bin to topple over to its side.

(Y/N) let out a small whine before she got ready to bend down and pick up the cat but Alfie interrupted her before she could.

“Ah fuck, don’t bend down” Alfie called out, “I’ll do my back out trying to help you up and then we’ll be both stuck on the fucking floor”

“You wouldn’t try calling for help?”

“And ruin my reputation? No fucking way”

“So you’d just let your heavily pregnant wife stay on the ground until what? You’re able to get up or one of the neighbours finds us”

“Nah, I’ll send Cyril to go get Ollie”

(Y/N) laughed at that, “If anything, Cyril will join us on the ground, thinking it was a cuddle session”

“Fucking dog” Alfie agreed with a grumble, “Stay here, I’ll be back in two minutes”

(Y/N) waited like instructed but made attempts to coax the kitten out which failed but just like he said, two minutes later, Alfie returned with a little parcel of ham, still wrapped like how the butcher gave it to them, meaning that Alfie took the ham straight from their cooler.

Alfie tore a little piece of the sliced ham off and chucked it near the mouth of the toppled bin and together they waited to see if the kitten ate it. It took awhile but the kitten did slowly creep out and eat the piece of ham. It gobbled it up as it had no doubt been starving.

Alfie chucked another piece down and the cat quickly ate that up too. Alfie created a trail of pieces of ham that lead into the kitchen and the kitten followed the trail until they were in the kitchen. Once they finished the last piece of ham, the cat looked up at them in suspicion, cautious of everything.

“What do we do with them, Alf?”

Alfie turned to her with a scrunched brow, “You’re the one who wanted to bring the damn cat inside and now you’re asking me what to do with the bloody thing? Fuckin’ hell”

“Alfie..” (Y/N) whined. Her back, feet and ankles were killing her and the last thing she wanted to do was get into an extended discussion with him.

Alfie saw the exhaustion and pain on her face and backed down, “We give it the rest of the ham and see what it wants to do tomorrow.”

(Y/N) nodded and they left the rest of the same with the cat and went to bed, Cyril right behind them.

.•° ✿ °•.

The next morning, (Y/N) found the kitten curled up underneath one of the chairs in the kitchen. It bathed in the morning sun, it’s dark fur appearing almost brown. It didn’t even stir as (Y/N) moved around the kitchen making breakfast for herself and Alfie and she also set out some food for them as well, in case they woke up.

Cyril tiptoed into the kitchen, right behind (Y/N) but his focus was on the small cat. The way he moved around it, avoiding it, was almost like he was afraid of the tiny thing and did his best to stay out of their way.

“Where’s the little bastard then?” Alfie asked as he entered the kitchen, collecting the cup of tea that (Y/N) held out for him.

“Underneath the chair” (Y/N) nodded towards it, “Still sleeping”

“Hm,” Alfie let out an unamused grunt before he downed his tea and put his coat on.

“I’ll be back by dinner” He wrapped (Y/N) in a hug and gave her a kiss, “Be careful. Stay off your feet.”

“I will.”

After one last kiss, Alfie was out of the door with Cyril and (Y/N) retreated to the living room to read the newspaper. An hour or so later, the kitten padded into the room, sniffing at the furniture as they walked around, getting used to its environment. (Y/N) stayed still and silent, not wanting to spook the cat and watched as they walked around before silently coming to a stop in front of her.

(Y/N) tapped the seat next to her, unable to bend over due to her belly and the cat took the hint and jumped up. She held out her fingers allowing the cat to sniff at it and when the cat rubbed their head underneath her fingers, (Y/N) took it as a hint to pet them, which the cat enjoyed pleasantly.

Over the next week, the cat had gotten accustomed to the house, they mostly stayed on the windowsill enjoying the sun or was curled up next to (Y/N)’s feet. The cat, which they still hadn’t named was a comforting presence in the house as (Y/N) got closer to her supposed due date.

.•° ✿ °•.

(Y/N) had the biggest grin on her face as held her son in her arms, despite how exhausted she was. Alfie was sitting next to her on the bed with an equally big grin on his face as he looked down at the baby boy.

“He’s amazing” (Y/N) whispered before she looked up at Alfie, “What should we name him?”

“Benjamin.” Alfie had tears in his eyes as he spoke, “Benjamin Solomons.”

“Hello, Ben” (Y/N) cooed but the baby merely pursed his lips as he continued sleeping.

The door to their room creaked open and the cat, which they named Lucy, crept in before jumping on the bed. Alfie moved to go shoo that cat away but (Y/N) stopped him, Lucy had settled at the end of the bed, far away enough from the baby, so she saw no harm in her being there.

Over the next few days after Ben was born, Lucy was constantly next to (Y/N) whenever she had in her arms, twisting around her feet or sat in an adventurous position that gave her a great view of (Y/N) and the baby and whenever Ben was in his cot, Lucy will be curled up, right by the legs of the cot, as if she was standing guard.

As he grew, wherever Benjamin was, Lucy would be right next to him.

.•° ✿ °•.

1 YEAR LATER

One year old Benjamin toddled into the kitchen where his mother was preparing lunch, Lucy right behind him as his bare feet slapped against the floor informed (Y/N) of his arrival. It also told her that he pulled off his socks for the 5th time that day.

Ben had learnt to walk a few weeks ago and most alternated between walking and crawling to get around.

He took a few steps forward before he reached her and clung to her skirt and looked up at her with the eyes he shared with his father, “Lun’?”

At the same time, Lucy stopped in front of her food bowl and meowled at (Y/N), no doubt asking the thing Ben had asked.

“Give me a moment Lucy, let me get Ben’s food ready first and then I’ll feed you”

“S’Alright” Alfie stepped into the small kitchen, his cane clicking against the floor, “Give me him and I’ll get him sorted”

Ben looked over at his father with a bright smile, “Da!”

Alfie’s back had been playing up recently so he wasn’t able to bend down and pick Ben up, so (Y/N) picked him up and placed him in his fathers arm.

When they disappeared into the dining room, (Y/N) bent down and gave Lucy a few loving scratches and pets, “You’re the best, Lucy. I love you very much”

Lucy let out a meow as if she understood her words and (Y/N) gave her one more pat before she put her food in the bowl and left her to eat.

(Y/N) washed her hands and collected the plates filled with their lunch and joined her family in the dining room, leaving the door slightly open knowing that when Lucy was finished, she’d join them, or more accurately, go back to Ben’s side.

#if this doesnt work dfsfhdsf #Alfie Solomons #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons imagines #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder imagines #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders x reader #x reader #imagines #peaky blinders

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angryschnauzer · 4 years ago

Text

Blackwater Lake - Chapter 3

Summary: There’s a little town high in the mountains where everyone has a secret, and every family has something that makes them unique. In Blackwater Lake those that are outcast by nature come together.

Characters/Pairing: August Walker x OFC Freya (Forest Nymph) Original Female Character is described as white/pale, short and of small build, hazel eyes, long dark hair.

Warnings (for this chapter); Talk of past abusive relationships, on the run, alcohol consumption, Daddy Kink, DD/LG, Pet names, fingering, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected sex, hyperspermia, cum play, cum feeding, unplanned pregnancy, pregnancy test.

Previous Parts:

Werewolf!Sy: Moonlight on the Sand Castle Under The Stars. Werewolf!Sy, Vampire!Walter: Chapter 1 Vampire Walter: Chapter 2

This will be a series of stand alone stories/2 parters, which will revolve around the residents of the town, with some recurring characters. The ‘reader’ for each story will be a ‘new’ reader, so its not the same woman being with all the male characters.

I do not run a tag list, but please follow @angryschnauzerwrites and put that blog onto notifications. You’ll then get an alert every time i post something new.

Blackwater Lake - Chapter 3

The blood slowly trickled across the board and off the table, coating the floor before running into the drain. August raised the heavy cleaver, and with one thunderous swipe severed the femur clean in two. The cleaver made a metallic clang that echoed around the stark tile lined room, and wiping his hands on his apron he lifted the product of his work and inspected his efforts closely. A smile spread over his lips as he looked up;

“There we go Mrs Mackenzie, a nice juicy bone for your dog”

The old woman smiled, her purple tinted grey hair in tight curls that barely moved as she nodded;

“Oh yes, that’ll be perfect! My Clarence will love it!”

At that very moment Clarence started yapping outside where he was tied to the specials chalkboard that sat on the sidewalk outside Walkers Meats, 10lbs of teeth, fur and anger wrapped into the body of a small West Highland Terrier;

“I’m sure he will. I’ll wrap it up for you and Freya will finish ringing up your order for you. We’ll get it delivered this afternoon…”

August walked around the counter and set the wrapped bone into the box, nodding to his assistant to finish up the order. She knew that the bone would be free of charge, but that Mrs Mackenzie would insist on tipping and sliding her $10 which August was more than happy for Freya to keep. The slight girl turned and a tiny smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, before she quietly nodded and continued with her duties.

Returning to the butchery area August glanced up and caught sight of his reflection in the painted mirror, the design obscuring the scarring on the side of his face, giving him that moment of relief from those memories of a past long ago, a life he had left behind when he had sought out quiet solitude in the peaceful mountain town of Blackwater Lake. People minded their own business there and didn’t ask questions. If you had a skill that could help others you were welcomed into the community. How August got into the meat business is a story for another day, but as his gaze travelled across the mirror to where Freya was measuring out the wild herb mixes into small mason jars he smiled and remembered instead how she came into his life.

Pulling the sign in from the sidewalk August was exhausted. Running a business completely on his own had seemed like a good idea when he’d started, he enjoyed his own company and he distrusted anyone else to do the job to a standard he would approve of. What he hadn’t counted on was the residents of this sleepy little town not only accepting him, but joyous that he was there and wanting to talk endlessly every time they visited his store. Although he was always polite and did his best to end conversations quickly, after eight hours of it he had jaw ache and knew he would need to work well into the night on the new sides of beef that had been delivered that morning if he were to have any stock to sell the next day. He glanced longingly at the small sign that sat propped up in the window; ‘Help Needed - Enquire Within’, yet he hadn’t had any takers in the month the sign had been up.

The icy winter wind curled at his neck, sending a shiver down his spine as he let out a sigh, heaving the heavy sign into the building so it didn’t blow away in the night as a icy squall blew in from the mountains. As the door slammed shut behind him it echoed a knock around the store, but when it came again he turned and let out a far from masculine yelp; the face of a pale young woman stared back at him like a ghoul in the darkness. Clearing his throat and smoothing down his blue and white striped apron, he approached the door and opened it;

“May I help you Miss?”

She nodded down to the sign;

“Do you still need someone?”

Her teeth were chattering, and it was hardly surprising as she was barely dressed for the weather, the knitted cardigan doing little to ward off the cold wind. August opened the door to allow her to enter, looking down at the top of her head as she slunk past him.

“Let me get a pot of coffee on, you must be freezing”

As he disappeared into the back office he set the pot of coffee on to heat before grabbing an old jacket that was hanging on the back of the door, returning to where his visitor stood in the store a few moments later, handing her the jacket;

“Its cold in here, we can’t have the heat on because of the meat”

Nodding she took the jacket, her teeth still chattering;

“T-t-thanks… its still warmer than outside”

He handed her a mug of steaming coffee;

“Sorry, i don’t have any creamer or sugar…” She wrapped her delicate fingers around the mug using it more for heat than sustenance as he leant back against the counter on the other side of the store; “So… you’re wanting a job? What experience have you got? You worked in retail?”

She shook her head and muttered a quiet no, keeping her eyes averted from him as she spoke;

“But i will try anything… just looking for a new start”

“Are you running from something?” A gentle nod of her head and the way she clutched the mug tighter told August it was a someone not a something; “Look, if you’re willing to learn, work hard and pay attention, i’ll give you a trial. I’ve gotta level with you, you’re the only person who’s shown any interest in the sign, and i’m getting desperate, so if you want you can start tomorrow”

Her head snapped up and for the first time he saw her eyes, deep hazel peering out from behind long strands of dark brown hair;

“Really?”

“Yes. Really” he stated in a matter of fact way; “I’ll need to get your address and details for the wages…”

“Oh… i’m not… i’ve not got anywhere. I guess i’ll find a cheap motel…”

August paused;

“Kid, there’s no motel in town… at least not this time of year. But i might have a solution for you”

Her eyes widened in fear and August realised whatever she was running from had done more damage than she showed;

“No no, not that” he assured her; “There’s a small apartment above the shop - two in fact, i’ve got one and the other i’ve never rented out, never got round to it… its small but completely self contained, your own entrance and everything, completely secure”

Once a few forms had been filled out August had gotten the girl settled in the small studio apartment. He’d shown her how the fold out bed worked, explained that the hot water fed off the furnace for the whole building so she could use as much as she wanted. A couple of minutes after he’d left her in the apartment he knocked at her door, surprised to hear the locks sliding across at first, but then realising she needed to feel safe. When she peered around the door she almost looked surprised to see him there, as if it would be anyone else;

“Umm yeah?”

August handed her a box of things he’d scavenged from his own kitchen;

“Here’s just a few things to see you through the night… I haven’t been grocery shopping in a while, but the bread was in the freezer and it’ll defrost pretty quickly if you put it in the toaster”

He handed the box to Freya, surprised at how smooth but also small her hands were as she took it from him as they brushed against his own. She nodded and smiled;

“Thank you Mr Walker”

“Night. See you bright and early tomorrow morning”

The next morning August woke to an insistent knocking on his door. Grumbling to himself he pulled on his robe and stalked across his small apartment, pulling the door open with a thunderous look on his face, ready to give whatever maniac that was knocking on his door at 5am a piece of his mind;

“WHAT THE… oh… hi…”

Freya was standing on his doormat, a look of shock on her face;

“Hi… i’m ready to start”

“To… start?”

“Work. You said bright and early”

August ran his palm over his face;

“I… When i said…” he let out a long slow breath; “I meant 8am”

“Oh.”

That was a long day, but by lunchtime Freya had mastered the cash desk and had already started to come out of her shell, the locals more than welcoming for the tiny girl with the woodland eyes, and with her help August was able to catch up on his work.

Over the following month her input had helped August expand his products, suggesting a range of seasonings in reusable jars, where if the customer returned the mason jar they’d get a discount off the next one they purchased. He discovered she had this unfathomable knowledge of herbs and plants, but also had this connection with nature he couldn’t quite understand. He’d sometimes catch her staring out of the window at the trees blowing in the wind, as if listening to their songs that were beyond his own ears.

One thing was for sure, there was a sense of magic to her and August thanked the stars above that she walked into his store on that cold winter night.

Back in the present August was busy cleaning the cutting table as Freya busied herself with her jars - it was her own little enterprise now and one she was absolutely proud of. He could see that she kept glancing outside, gnawing on her lip;

“Freya, everything ok?”

“Yes Mr Walker. I was just thinking, the next batch wild garlic is ready to be picked, if i collect some this afternoon i can have more chimichurri mixed ready for tomorrow, and that’s when the beef delivery is coming in”

August let out a chuckle;

“How many times do I have to say to call me August…” he met her gaze with a smile; “And yes, that sounds like a brilliant idea. The store’s quiet and i’ll be doing deliveries in a while, so sure, go exploring”

“Thank you Mr Walker”

August rolled his eyes and let out a laugh, watching as she hung up her apron and grabbed her foraging basket, skipping out of the door and towards the creek that fed into the lake a couple of miles away.

Three hours later August was driving back along the gravel road that led into town, having made his deliveries. The spring air was damp but warm, rain threatening to spill but the clouds unwilling to release their bounty just yet. Rounding the bend he looked out over the soft marshland, the grass knee high already and he saw a familiar figure stepping through the green undergrowth. With a smile he pulled his SUV to a stop at the side of the road, stepping out of the vehicle he leaned against the door as he watched Freya as she slowly made her way through the field, before she stopped as her attention moved to the treeline. Following her gaze he watched as a bear emerged from the woods and his heart sank. The native wildlife would be coming out of hibernation, and would be grumpy and hungry. He went to shout but a sudden rush of wind silenced his voice, watching as she held her arm out and the grass flattened in front of her as if a wind devil had made its way through. Glancing back to the bear it had stopped in its tracks but was still staring at her, but then started to circle around on the spot before settling down as if for a nap.

August anxiously watched, knowing if Freya ran she could make it to the car as long as the bear was weak, but he didn’t want to risk that it hadn’t had a belly full of salmon yet, so he quickly reached into the vehicle and pulled his unregistered handgun from beneath his seat. Back at the side of the road he raised the firearm at the bear, glancing at Freya who had now spotted him waiting for her. She started to quicken her pace through the grasses, eventually breaking into a run as she neared the embankment of the road. August glanced to where the bear had been and let out a yell as he saw it was starting to approach them;

“Freya, RUN!”

Doing as he instructed she broke into a sprint, her legs carrying her through the grass and up the embankment. Flinging his door open he motioned for her to dive in, her basket being launched into the passenger footwell as she tumbled across the centre console and into the passenger seat, August launching himself into the driver's seat and gunning the engine as he slammed the door shut, the urgent crunch of tyres on loose gravel dulling the sound of the grizzly’s roar as it had caught up, but was now rapidly disappearing into the distance of the rear view mirror.

August only slowed down as he reached the urban centre of Blackwater Lake, Freya’s breathing having finally levelled out as she turned to him;

“So… there’s bears here?”

He slowed the vehicle and pulled to a stop in a parking lot before turning to her;

“Yes. And moose and cougars and mountain lions… hell sometimes I even hear howls in the night so there’s probably something wolfy up in those mountains too… We need to get you better prepared for nature” August paused; “And what was that thing you did with your hand? That made the grass flatten and the bear sit down…”

Freya shrugged;

“I’m not sure… it's just this thing i’ve always been able to do, calm animals down”

“Huh. Didn’t seem to work this time…”

She glanced at him, her eyes wide;

“I think that was because you were there…”

August let out a laugh, before sitting back in his seat;

“Okay, point taken. I need a drink. We’re at Big-G’s, I'll buy you dinner…”

August regretted his decision. He hadn’t factored in how slight Freya was in comparison to her ability to consume alcohol, so three drinks later where all he’d had was lite beer, Freya was completely wasted. The giveaway was when she’d fallen asleep on his shoulder whilst he’d been talking to Geralt - the bar owner - and she’d started to drool on his shirt. Geralt had told him to ‘get his girl home’ with a wry laugh, telling August his meal was on the house. Something had stopped August from correcting the ashen haired man, looking down at the imp of the girl leaning on him.

He’d managed to carry her to his car fairly easily but the journey up the steps at their building had been more of a challenge. He’d managed to get her to wrap her arms around his shoulders, but had been surprised when she’d also wrapped her legs around his waist. Although it meant he could use one arm to hold her up, the feel of her warm body clinging to his sent a rush of heat through his stomach straight to his groin, he was just thankful she was so out of it she didn’t notice the tent in his pants.

As he juggled his keys he found the spare for her apartment but then thought better of it, unsure how she was when she’d had alcohol, and instead opened his own apartment. Crossing the almost dark room he reached the couch and slowly lowered her down to the cushions, her whimpers of loss as he started to pull away making him pause;

“Mmmm Daddy, you’re so warm…”

Holding her still a low rumble slowly bubbled through his throat when she nuzzled against his neck;

“Daddy smells so good…” and she pressed a kiss to the stubble on his chin.

August knew she was drunk, probably didn’t even realise it was him, after all who would want someone as broken and scarred as he was, but for that briefest of moment’s he relished her touch and what was going on in her tequila addled mind. He couldn’t help himself and pressed the briefest of kiss to her cheek;

“Time to sleep now little Kitten” he muttered before reluctantly uncoupling himself from her grasp, pulling a blanket over her as she dozed on his couch. Raking his hand down his face he let out a sigh, before grabbing a glass of water and setting it onto the coffee table in front of her. A scribbled note on the back of a flyer explained that she was drunk and he wasn’t sure if she would need his help, and he didn’t want to invade her privacy of her own apartment.

Having poured himself a generous glass of vodka, August withdrew to his own bedroom, silently closing the door before stripping for bed. It was an early night but without the TV to entertain him and no desire to get lost in a book, he settled on top of the covers in just his underwear, sipping at the ice cold liquor as he willed the swelling of his loins to subside. However every time he tried to clear his mind, all he could imagine was Freya. The thought of her small body beneath his, their bodies sweaty and writhing as one. Finally with a curse he gave in to his desires, pulling his underwear down and taking his hard length into his hand, pumping dry to increase the friction as his mind descended further into taboo territory. He imagined it was her hand, calling him Daddy as she asked if she was doing it right, that her perfect lips would duck down and take his bulbous tip into her mouth, her tongue lapping at his slit as her hazel eyes would stare back up at him, wide with innocence. With a strangled cry he came in violent spurts, covering his hand and stomach in ropes of his cum, thoughts of the delicate woman in his lounge lapping at his spent seed prolonging his orgasm until he was aching and empty. With a curse he looked down at the mess he’d made, realising he needed to clean himself up.

The quiet click of his front door woke August the next morning, pushing himself up off the pillow as he heard small footsteps down the outside of the building and the quiet beep of his car being unlocked. Wondering what the hell was happening he leapt out of bed and peered out of the window, letting out a sigh of relief when he saw a dishevelled Freya gathering the wild garlic that had been scattered around his inside of his vehicle the day before.

A few minutes later the thud of his keys falling onto his doormat where she’d posted them through the letterbox sounded through his apartment, and when he went to collect them he found a small note with them;

‘Mr Walker, thank you for your help, I hope I didn't make a fool of myself last night. Your car stinks of garlic now, i’m going to walk up the creek and collect some herbs that will help reduce the odour, Freya x’

An hour later when she hadn’t returned, August set off towards the creek through the pleasant woodland, the sunlight leaving dappled patches of gold on the forest floor. Coming to the wide bend in the creek where the water was shallow, he saw the swing over the water that someone had put there years ago, mismatched ropes and a wooden seat, and how someone had now woven wildflowers into the ropes, and as he glanced upstream he saw Freya knee deep in the water, a butterfly dancing on her hand.

Something overcame him and he pulled off his boots and socks, rolling up his pants as he stepped out into the water and sat on the swing, silently watching as she charmed nature beyond a simple human’s comprehension, having control of the elements like a forest nymph. August had seen a lot of unusual things in the time he’d lived in Blackwater Lake, he knew those that had something a little special about them gravitated towards the sleepy little mountain town, so as he watched Freya make her way upstream towards him he realised there was magic in the air. Small water spouts rose from the water as she took each step, as if chasing after her touch as she stepped from rock to rock submerged under the water.

As she approached the shallow bend in the creek she finally looked up and saw August, a smile spreading over her lips;

“Hi”

“Its so pretty here, isn’t it?” she asked wistfully

“Beautiful from where i’m sitting”

She approached where he sat, stopped at arms reach, a hint of blush warming her cheeks;

“I’m sorry if I was inappropriate last night… thank you for taking care of me, i’m not a big drinker”

“You weren’t inappropriate…” he reassured her; “But it's been a while since a beautiful woman called me Daddy… since before… since before i was broken...”

Her gaze moved to the scar on the side of his face, and without a word she stepped forward and pressed her hand to the spidery scarring. In that moment August felt the magic in her touch, prickling at his skin before she nimbly climbed onto his lap, her legs wrapping around his waist and she lowered her lips to his, softly brushing against his as she spoke;

“You’re not broken, no more than I am…”

The kiss was soft and slow, and as her tongue started to gently tease at the seam of his lips she eased her weight completely onto his lap, her core pressing to his, the heat of their growing lust growing like an ember between them.

Her small tongue licked into his mouth, tasting him as she pressed her body flush to his chest, small whimpers coming from her as his hands splayed over her back and pulled her firmly down onto his growing arousal. When the need for oxygen finally took precedence August’s lips traced a path of kisses down her jaw and neck, her fingers winding through his dark curls as her head fell back to give him better access to the pale expanse of her collarbone;

“Oh Daddy…”

“That’s it my little one, i’m going to treat you so well, my little Kitten…” August’s mustache brushed against her heated skin as he spoke, the gentle sway of the swing letting their bodies move against each other.

Just at that moment an ominous creak sounded above them, drawing their attention up into the tree’s canopy, just in time to see the rope that held the swing up snap, plunging them down into the shallow creekwater below.

With shouts and screams the moment of passion was lost, taken over by the shock of the water hitting their heated skin. August helped Freya up, her dress plastered to her skin in much the same way his shirt was, soaked head to toe he shook the water from his hair;

“Home?”

“Yes Daddy” Freya purred, pulling into his touch as he wrapped an arm around her to help her out of the water.

Pushing in the door to his apartment, clothes were being pulled from each other's bodies even as the door was still ajar. As he pulled his shirt off, Freya’s hands were curling into the hair on his chest, an almost feral growl bubbling from her lips as she ran her hands down to his stomach and rested on the buckle of his belt. Catching her hands in his he held them gently, only speaking when she looked up and met his gaze;

“Kitten, I want to be sure you want this… You’re in total control here, you set the boundaries, you say when you need to stop. But if you do want this, i’ll be your Daddy and take care of you like a Princess”

Freya voice shook as she spoke;

“I want this… my last… he wanted to be my Daddy but didn’t treat me right. He took more than I could give…”

August lifted her small hands to his mouth, kissing each fingertip with such great care and tenderness her heart almost melted before she finally spoke again;

“We should really check for leeches”

“WHAT?!”

Freya had never seen anyone strip their clothing off quite as fast as August just had. For a big man - and a pretty tough one at that - the mere thought of little blood suckers had him stripping completely naked in a matter of seconds, Freya pulling her dress off a little slower until she stood in just her simple underwear. August was still patting himself down, turning to look at his behind;

“Am I ok?”

Freya couldn’t help herself, stepping forwards and taking two handfuls of August’s pert asscheeks, giving them a squeeze before running her palms over the perfectly rounded globes of his buttocks;

“More than ok”

In the following moments August carried her to his small bathroom, turning the shower on before he stepped under the warm jets of water, pulling her with him so he could soap her down. The scent of sandalwood of his soap as he carefully washed every inch of her body was overwhelming, taking care of her to wash any last traces of creek water from her body. He paused as he reached the apex of her thighs, waiting for her agreement which she quickly nodded for him to continue, his large hand sliding between her legs and caressing her lips. His skilled fingers soon sought out her pearl, teasing it gently from its hood before he slid a finger into her waiting heat, a cry falling from her lips which he quickly swallowed with a kiss. His work calloused hands quickly drove her to an orgasm - a first of many - and as she came she called his name, like a prayer on her lips.

Shutting the water off, August carefully lifted her out of the bath, wrapping a large towel around her before scooping her into his arms and carrying her to his bed. On the messy covers her hair clung to her skin, before he carefully lifted the long tendrils from her chest and was able to take in the sight of her petite naked body laying fresh and prone on his bed. Her hand reached out for him, pulling him close;

“Daddy, I want to feel you…”

August smiled;

“Will you be a good girl for me Kitten? Do you think you can take me? You’re awfully small, and I'm pretty big…”

She sat up, pressing a hand to his chest;

“Can I try? Can I go on top?”

Nodding August lay on the bed, propped up against the pillows, lifting her petite frame on top of him. He watched with pleasure as she wriggled down the bed, her hands gripping his thighs as she settled between his legs. Wrapping her small hands around his generous length she looked up at him as she started to give small licks to his hot flesh, her fingers struggling to encircle his meaty girth. Opening her mouth she took a good three inches between her lips straight away, a litany of curses falling from August’s lips as he felt the hot wet heat of her mouth engulf him. It was better than he could ever had imagined, and he had to grip at the bedsheets to stop himself from cumming at that very moment. Steadying his breathing he let out a low sigh before he reluctantly pulled her off, a trail of spittle hanging between his dick and her mouth;

“But Daddy, I want to taste your cum…”

“I know Kitten, but it's going to be a lot the first time, and I want to see your cunt dripping with me, knowing your tight little pussy is going to overflow with the amount I'm going to pump into you. Now be a good girl and see what you can do, let's make it fit…”

Straddling his thick thighs she positioned herself over his hard shaft, her hand holding him steady as she swiped him through her folds to douse his gnarled girth with her juices, before settling with the tip at her entrance. August ran his hands up and down her arms, comforting her and hoping to get her to relax. He was a patient man but the feel of her soaked flesh pressing against his crown was becoming a struggle not to grab her hips and pull her down until he was balls deep in one swift thrust.

Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, Freya slowly lowered herself onto August’s shaft, going at a pace she could cope with, but the strain of holding back caused perspiration to bead on August’s forehead;

“Doing so well Kitten… I know its a lot, but you can do it… you’re so fucking tight…. Fuck…”

Taking a deep breath Freya finally let herself fall the rest of the way, feeling him part her silken walls until she was settled on his lap. Tears fell from her eyes, tiny diamonds adorning her cheeks at the overwhelming sense of fullness she was experiencing. Seeing these August kissed them away, his praises made her swell with pride as he admitted to her he was struggling not to cum from just the feeling of her tight walls engulfing him. He pushed a hand between their bodies, resting his palm on her stomach;

“Put your hand here… you’re so tiny I can feel myself deep inside you, your little tummy blown out with my dick…”

His thumb crept down and grazed at her pearl, making her cry out before yearning for more. With his ministrations she was soon relaxed enough to start to ride him, her nimble thighs bouncing on his meaty counterparts, feeling the slick push and pull as he filled her whilst she drove them towards their peak.

Unsurprisingly Freya came first, the overwhelming pleasure that was coursing through her body was all too much to hold back, and she came with a silent scream, her body gripping August so tight it set him off, pushing in so deep he was sure his dick had kissed her cervix, before flooding her with endless ropes of his thick seed, soothing her inner core with his milky gift. Wrapping his arms around her he pulled her to his chest, holding her tight as the floods of emotions surged through her, stroking her back tenderly.

Eventually he carefully lifted her onto the bed, peppering her bare skin with bristly kisses, before parting her thighs and leaning back to admire his handiwork, a thick sheen of white covering her swollen petals. With a single finger he carefully swiped through his mess, before holding it to her mouth;

“Taste Kitten… taste our passion…”

Holding onto his wrist she sucked the digit into her mouth, her tongue tasting their combined essence. When his finger finally dropped from her lips his gaze fell down and hers followed, her eyes going wide when she saw he was hard and ready for more. Laying back she hooked her hands behind her knees and spread herself open for him;

“Daddy, will you fill me up again, please?”

Positioning himself at her cum soaked hole August smiled, a dark hint of lust glinting in his eyes;

“It would be my pleasure Kitten”

Three weeks later

Freya chewed nervously on her lip, having circled the isles of the drug store too many times to count now, waiting for a time when there was no-one near what she needed. Finally it was the right moment and she slunk into the isle, grabbing the thin rectangular box before stepping back and bumping into someone, her item tumbling to the floor as a third set of feet appeared;

“Freya! Mrs Syverson! Good Morning!”

It was Sue from the coffee shop, having appeared seemingly out of nowhere just as Mrs Syverson had backed away from the opposite shelf to keep little baby Luna from grabbing the glass bottles of antacid medicine. Mrs Syverson immediately clocked what Freya had been holding;

“Oh Freya, could you just reach those things for me? I can’t reach down with Luna here…”

With shaking hands Freya handed the bag of cotton wool balls and the pregnancy test to the woman only a couple of years her senior, who in turn smiled at Sue as she laughed;

“Sy’s always keeping me on my toes… in more ways than one” She winked before tugging on Freya’s arm; “Sweetie, I need to place an order for a big cookout we have coming up for Sy’s birthday…”

Steering her away from town gossip Sue, Mrs Syverson lowered her voice;

“I’ll meet you outside sweetie, don’t worry about it, i saw you circling the shop”

A few minutes later Mrs Syverson appeared at the door, two drugstore bags in her hand before handing one to Freya;

“My advice, tell August now, do the test together”

“Are you sure? Do you think he’ll be angry?”

“Angry? Hell no, i think it’ll be what he wants, and no matter what the result he’s always had puppy dog eyes for you, we could all tell from the moment you walked into his life”

Peering into the bag Freya saw there was also a bag of Hershey’s kisses;

“You’ll need the sugar, to calm your nerves afterwards”

“Thanks Mrs S… i appreciate it”

“No problem Freya… and i’ll see you tomorrow, i really do need to place that order, but get today over and done with first”

That afternoon Freya and August took the test, then feasted on kisses of every kind.

#august walker #august walker fanfic #august walker smut #august walker x ofc #henry cavill

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