#the wife was dead. 'who will take care of me now?' i cleaned the kitchen and took out the trash

[castratedvader]

Our father was sitting at the breakfast bar, by the phone. He exchanged greetings with my brother but we ignored each other. As he was explaining her condition the phone rang. She was dead. It was abrupt. He was stunned. Who will take care of me now? I cleaned the kitchen and took out the trash. I made a grocery list. I started the laundry.

(x)

[godsandmonsters505]

Roll Like Thunder | Negan Smith

dbf!Negan Smith (The Walking Dead) x younger fem!reader

(AU where the apocalypse never happened)

Summary: Negan is your dad's best friend and the two of you settle some tension while on your family vacation.

Warnings (18+): age gap (reader is college age, maybe 20-ish, and Negan's age is not specified but I'm feeling early 50s), smut (fem receiving oral, unprotected p in v), possibility of getting caught, edging

Notes: this actually kinda turned out sweet in a way I think, which is surprising because that's not often an outcome when I write for Negan lmao. not proofread yet because I just wanted to get it out to you all asap, but will edit if needed when I get the chance. hope you enjoy!! (also the intro is kinda long oops)

Grabbing your glass of wine you take another much needed swig, cringing at your dad and uncle. They always find some way to turn every conversation into a political argument while the rest of your family eat their meals and exchange knowing glances

Family holidays were always like this. The one time a year when everyone was together: your parents, aunt, uncle and cousins. Only this year, there was a new addition.

Negan had grown up being a close friends with both your father and uncle and they are still best friends to this day. He recently went through a messy divorce and this is his first Christmas without his wife in a long time. Your dad never was good with showing kindness or friendship, but your uncle had convinced him it would be a good idea to invite him to his cabin for your annual Christmas getaway.

And that's how you got here.

You'd always had a little bit of a crush on Negan, for as long as you could remember. Though you never saw much of him as a kid. It wasn't until you got older - old enough to be able to drink in front of your parents - that you got to spend more time with him. Drinking was a big part of their social life, so once you could join in, you got to know him better. You got on well with your parents so you'd have barbeques with them and their friends, join in with conversations in the kitchen when they'd have people over, go out to dinner. But then you went off to college and started spending less and less time with them. So now it's Christmas time, you're happy to be able to spend time with your family. And Negan, more than you'd care to admit.

"Okay fellas," your mom chimes in. "Enough of that."

Negan makes eye contact with you from across the other side of the table and you smirk at each other. You're both all too familiar with watching this from an outside perspective.

"The food's delicious, Negan," she adds, turning to Negan, who had cooked this meal for you all. Sort of as a thank you for letting him tag along. For the first few days in the cabin he felt a little out of place, like he was intruding on your family's time together. But eventually he began to find himself settling. You were lucky to have a very fun, non-judgmental family so everyone was happy to have him there.

You nodded in agreement with your mother's statement. "I'd have more if there was any left." You motion to your empty plate.

"I'm glad it's got your approval, ladies," he grins.

The meal comes to an end and alcohol starts flowing. Your cousins are all younger than you so they head off to their bedrooms to do whatever it is kids their age do.

"I'd better get these dishes cleaned," Negan declares, standing up from his seat.

"No," you say, protesting. "You cooked. I'll clean."

"It's fine, you don't have to," he says kindly.

"I want to," you smile. "Really I'm happy to."

"We'll do them together?" He suggests, coming to a compromise and you nod in agreement.

"You raised a stubborn one," he mumbles teasingly to your dad, patting his shoulder as he walks past him.

"She gets that from me," your mom chirps as the two of you pick the plates up from the table and carry them into the kitchen.

Putting the plates on the kitchen top, you head to the fridge and look inside.

"Beer?" you ask, peeking around the door to look at Negan's response. Though you already have two cans in your hand, knowing he won't turn down the offer.

He nods. "Can't do anything without a drink in hand in this family, huh?"

You close the fridge door and pass him his beer, cracking open his own.

"You should be more than aware of that," you tease. "I've heard what you and my dad used to get up to."

"I'm sure you've not even heard the most of it," he teases back.

You laugh softly under your breath at his response.

"I'll wash, you dry?" You suggest as the sink begins to fill with soapy water.

The two of you get the dishes done relatively quickly as Negan tells you a story from his college days. You have to keep yourself composed and remember who he is. Remember that these stories he's telling of him at your age took place before you were even born. A decade before, at least. But, every so often, as you pass him the plates to dry, your fingers touch his and such a small motion has you weak. You can't look him directly in the eyes as he stands so close to you. That signature grin of his spread across his face.

The two of your finish and you take a large swig of your beer, but it's no surprise that the flush of alcohol doesn't help your body heat. You can only hope and pray that your cheeks aren't beetroot red right now.

"I'm sure you've got plenty of stories, though, right?" He asks. "Being in college and all. And with your dad's genes...God."

A playful smile spreads on your face. "Sure. I'm absolutely not telling you though. My dad would have a heart attack."

"Ahh," he smiles back. "So this whole 'good girl' thing is just an act, then?"

Holy shit. Good girl? He has no clue what he is doing to you calling you things like that.

"I can be good when it suits me." You say, almost flirtatiously, and immediately kick yourself. Why the hell would you say something like that to him?

Your off-the-cuff reply has him grinning. He swipes his tongue over his teeth as he contemplates your words and you almost drop to your knees.

"Let's go see what political debate has become the talking point now," you say, changing the topic to hide your complete embarrassment. You leave the kitchen and head to the living room, Negan following.

Somehow, in the time it took you to wash the dishes, your mom and aunt have gone through a bottle and a half of wine, and they're sat on the floor with your dad and uncle playing some sort of drinking game.

You sit down on the couch and Negan sits next to you. Why? Why could he not just sit away from you? Give you some space to compose yourself? But the action is completely innocent. There is just less than a foot between the two of you, yet it still feels like he is on top of you. Like you're breathing the same air.

"What was I just saying?" Negan says, nudging your arm with his elbow. "Alcohol."

You shake your head in playful disagreement with your relatives' actions.

"Hey, mom," you say and her head whips around, as laughter escapes her lips. "Think you've had enough for tonight?"

"Oh, you're so boring," she waves her hand at you dismissively.

The four of them continue for about half an hour as you and Negan observe and laugh. The game finally comes to an end when your aunt and uncle discreetly head off to their bedroom for a reason you don't even want to think about. Your parents follow shortly after, your dad having to carry your drunk mom up the stairs.

You come back from the kitchen where you were getting another lager for you and Negan. As you do so, you look for the TV controller and find a blanket that was lying around. You sit down again next to Negan and look down at your phone to check the time.

"God, it's not even 10 o'clock yet." You laugh.

"Amateurs," he says sarcastically.

You pass him his beer which he thanks you for, then get under you blanket.

"Want some?" You ask, holding out some excess blanket towards him.

"Sure," he accepts, getting comfortable himself.

The whole situation you're in is completely innocent, but it dawns on you that you're currently alone with Negan, tucked under the same blanket. Given that fact, you make a conscious effort not to touch him at all and try to remain composed.

"Put a movie on?" You ask him, passing the TV remote to him.

He takes it from your hand, brushing his fingertips across yours.

You watch him carefully as he selects a film to put on, making sure not to get caught admiring him. He just looks so good. The salt and pepper sprinkled throughout his hair and beard. The tattoos that cover his arms. The way his white t-shirt hugs his body just right. You're brought out of your thoughts when he speaks.

"You seen Batman Returns?" He asks, looking down at you.

"Of course," you smile. "It's a classic."

"Feel like watching it again?"

You nod. You'll watch whatever he wants. Do whatever he wants.

"Absolutely," you answer. "I didn't peg you as a Batman kind of guy, to be honest."

"Like you say, it's a classic," he says. "Plus there's always Michelle Pfeiffer."

You laugh at him. "I feel you."

You polish off another beer as you watch the film. You try your best to pay attention, to keep your eyes open, but you grow increasingly tired. It must have only been fifteen minutes into the film when you finally drift off, reality slipping away.

When you wake up again, it takes a while to fully gain consciousness, You feel something under you head, under your arm, but you don't pay much attention to it.

You feel warm. Comfortable. You don't want to wake up, you could stay here forever. The smell of men's shampoo and cologne comforts you, a soft material under the touch of your hand.

All of a sudden reality dawns on you. You realise that your head is leaning on a shoulder. That your hand is draped across a torso. You shoot up, sitting upright and see Negan smiling at you softly through slightly hooded eyes.

"Oh God," you say, feeling incredibly humiliated. "I'm sorry." But he just chuckles.

You look over to the television and see a black screen.

"Did the movie finish?" You ask groggily and he nods. Fuck. You slept for the entire duration of the film and who knows how much of that time you spent laying on Negan's shoulder.

What you're only just realising now, though, is how close you're still sat to him. How even though you're sat up, Negan's shoulder is casually draped across the back of the sofa, dangerously close to your shoulder blades.

"Why didn't you just wake me up?" You ask, feeling flushed.

"You looked peaceful." He answers, honestly. "Didn't want to disrupt you."

"I'm sorry," you apologize again. "You should've woken me up."

"I didn't mind, sweetheart." He insists. "Honestly."

The pet name drives you utterly insane. As if this whole thing wasn't already enough. Your body feels so hot. What with the blanket, his body heat, your arousal.

"I will say though, you do talk quite a bit in your sleep," he smiles coyly and dread shoots through your entire body.

"Wh-what-" you can't even get a full sentence out. "What did I-"

A flash of a dream comes back to you in that moment. Oh God. Oh God, no. You can't remember the details, but you remember the feeling. Negan on top of you. His body weight on you. The ecstasy you felt. His hands on your body. His name slipping from your lips.

You had a sex dream about Negan while you were laying on his Goddamn shoulder. You're lost for words, but Negan is enjoying watching this play out. He bites his lip, trying to suppress his smug grin as he watches you realise the possibilities of what you might have said.

His arm slowly slips off the back of the sofa and creeps around to touch you, the movement making you flinch a little. What is he doing?

He takes his other hand and places two fingers just under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. The two of you make eye contact and you can't even contemplate what is happening - still a little groggy from your nap - before his lips are coming down gently on yours.

You kiss him back almost immediately. It's a surprising delicate and intimate kiss, and you daringly bring your hand up to his neck to pull him in deeper, but he pulls back.

You worry that he is having second thoughts, but the look in his eyes says the complete opposite. He just wants to get a good look at you before he tears you apart. You feel vulnerable under his hungry eyes but you love how it makes you feel.

The two of you take a moment to catch your breath before your lips join again, this time the kiss rougher. More passionate. His arms wrap around your back to pull your body snug to his and you intwine your fingers into his hair, tugging ever so slightly. His large hands snake further down and grab your hips, pulling you onto his lap. As you get comfortable you shift along his length and gasp, feeling that he is already hard.

"You were practically fucking dry humping me in your sleep," he chuckles. "You can't blame me."

"So that's why you didn't want to wake me up, then?" You're barely able to mumble, teasing him.

"Hmm, maybe." You can feel him smile into the kiss and it makes you want him more. Everything about him is so endearing. He just radiates this warmth, this aura, and it's radiating.

Even now, however, you're nervous to move things along. You know what you want but this is still so surreal, and it would be an understatement to say you feel a little intimidated in this moment. You have enough sexual experience, but this is Negan. This is different. So you're glad when he takes control and begins to lift up your top, pulling it over your head to expose your bra.

His mouth makes contact with the flesh of your chest, sucking and nipping while he reaches around to unhook your bra. He feels his cock twitch when he sees your bare breasts, taking a nipple into his mouth immediately as his warm hands roam and caress your back, travelling over your smooth skin.

As you start to subconsciously grind into his bulge, Negan continues to explore your breasts. You're looking for any kind of relief and you begin to find some as he presses up into you, but both of your pants are restricting you.

You feel yourself crumbling further and further as Negan's hands come around to aid him with his attention to your breasts, squeezing and practically groaning as he does so. The noise changes something inside you, and makes you realise that you need him stripped of his clothes right this second.

You grasp the bottom of his shirt and he briefly pulls away from you to allow you to move it, but the second you're done, his lips are back on your skin, leaving marks on your collarbone and neck. Next, you move onto the buckle of his belt but he swats your hand away.

Pulling back from the kiss, you look to him with wide eyes full of confusion. That look alone is nearly enough to cause him to fold and fuck you right then and there. But he has other plans.

"Be patient for me, honey," he says sweetly, and as badly as you want him, you trust him.

He pulls your body flush to his, so that your breasts are pressed entirely against the heat of his chest. Then he grips your lower back and stands up, holding you tightly.

"We can't do this here," he says, carrying you towards the stairs. You grind up against him playfully as he does so and he stops momentarily half way up the stairs, clearly affected by the action. In retaliation he gently swats your ass and you giggle at his response.

"Shh," he hushes, but he can't hide the grin that spreads across his face as you bury your face in his shoulder to muffle the sound.

Being as quiet as possible, he takes you into his bedroom which - awkwardly - is across the hall from your parents' room.

He puts you down on the bed, barely allowing himself to be away from you for a second, climbing on top of you hastily. He goes back to kissing you, the taste of him intoxicating. The way he kisses are gentle yet so hot and passionate at the same time, becoming increasingly sloppy as they shift from your lips to your jaw, neck, chest, abdomen, until you're a writhing mess beneath him.

Once he has kissed so far that he reaches the waist line of your trousers, he unbuttons them and pulls them all the way down. He throws them onto the floor, leaving you just in your lace black panties. He nudges your legs open and moves his kisses to your thigh. He's slowly breaking you and you're not sure how much more you can take. Painstakingly slow, he trails his tongue up your inner thigh until he reaches the edge of your panties.

Eventually he slips your panties off and you tremble as you feel the cool air of his room against your hot, aching core. He places his hands on your inner thighs to push them open further, mouth watering at the sight of you. The delicate touch of his fingers send shivers up your spine and you're in desperate need of more.

"Please, Negan," you say, barely a croak.

"Shh, let me take care of you," he soothes, his voice low and gravelly as he tries his best to stay quiet. "Wanted to taste this sweet pussy for so long."

As if to affirm his words, he lowers his head and licks a stripe straight through your folds, groaning as he feels how wet you are.

He then moves his mouth to make contact with your clit, your hips raising at the action. He starts off by sucking gently, leaving you aching for more as you reach down to grab his hair, not knowing what else to do. He chuckles as you do so and sends vibrations straight through your core. Unable to control yourself, a moan escapes you lips and he squeezes your thighs warningly, wordlessly telling you to be quiet.

He takes his time to precisely pull you apart, but then his motions begins to get harsher, faster. You feel that rising feeling in the pit of your stomach begin to spread after waiting for what feels like so long. He alternates between kissing, sucking, licking, nipping until you're desperate for more. Sensing this, he teases one finger at your entrance.

"Please," you whimper, legs trembling. He answers your pleading by pushing his single digit inside you in one long push, as deep as he can go, and keeping it there momentarily. As he continues to eat you out, he begins moving his finger, fucking you gently. When he adds a second finger you have to clasp your hand over your own mouth to stop yourself from calling out his name. Your legs wrap around his head, wanting to pull him closer to you in any way possible.

Closing your eyes, you feel that white hot feeling flooding through your veins, but right as you're about to reach your peak, he pulls his fingers out and his mouth away from you.

You let out a guttural sound, one of desperation which causes Negan to laugh under his breath.

"Negan, God, please," you whine, putting both your hands on his head and pushing him back down.

"So bossy," he mumbles with a smile on his face, but he obliges.

He doesn't use his fingers on you again, but it makes no difference. You're already pent up enough as it is that it won't take a lot to make you reach your peak. Plus, you don't doubt that Negan's skillful mouth is more than enough for you.

He circles his tongue around your clit, going back to sucking while using his free fingers to absentmindedly trace little patterns into your thighs. The only noises are your heavy pants and the wetness of his mouth against you, and it fills the otherwise deadly silent bedroom.

He's starting to become more familiar with your body and your reactions and he can tell you're getting close again. To which he stops and pulls away yet again.

"Negan," you almost cry. Tears prick in the corners of your eyes as you throb for him. "Please, I need to-"

"I got you baby," he assures you, stroking the flesh of your thighs comfortingly.

You can't bare it. You almost despise him for doing this to you, but you can't. It's all so surreal: having this man between your thighs. So often you have fantasized of it and though it's so wrong, it's now happening.

Before you can beg again, his lips make contact with you. This time he's a man on a mission. His tongue flicks against your clit as two of his fingers slip back inside you. You're so wet that it's an easy motion, but you still feel the tight, delicious stretch. He allows you to get used to it, building you up until he adds a third finger and you have to use all your power not to yell out his name. You try your hardest not to hurt Negan by squeezing your thighs too much or pulling his hair too hard, but he loves it. He loves driving you crazy, seeing you unwind for him. The noises you make. The taste of you.

Relentlessly, he penetrates you with his fingers, pushing and curling his fingers deep inside you, hitting a spot that eventually brings you your release. One last push, one last flick of his tongue and you're falling over the edge. You squeeze your eyes shut and you can't help the animalistic sound that leaves you as white flashes behind your eyelids. He continues eating you out through your orgasm and it hits you that you think you're doing something you never have before.

Once you manage to come around again, you let your legs relax and look down to Negan who looks up at you. He smiles smugly, your wetness remaining in his beard and it causes you to go weak in the knees.

"Did I just-?" Squirt, you want to say. But somehow it doesn't seem like the nicest word to describe what just happened between of the two.

He nods with a glimmer in his eyes as he makes his way up the bed, his body above yours.

"I've never-" you croak. "I've never done that before."

"You just needed a man, that's all," he gloats and you roll your eyes. "It was hot as fuck, for what it's worth."

He leans down and places a soft kiss on your lips. You can taste yourself on him.

You're still shaking a little, but you manage to pull back a little to look him in his eyes.

"Are we really doing this?" You ask, bordering on timid.

"Do you want to?" He counters.

"Yes," you say, quickly, not wanting him to think you're having doubts. Because there is absolutely no doubt in your mind that you want the man above him. Hell, you need him. But somehow you find yourself feeling a little insecure and needing reassurance. "Do you?"

"Darling," he laughs. "Not to be crude, but you just came all over my face. I want this more than you know."

You nod and smile, feeling more confident. "I'm sorry, I just-"

He interrupts your babbling with a long kiss to your lips, silencing you.

"You need to worry less," he says, bringing his hand to stroke your cheek sweetly.

"Make me." You propose flirtingly, smiling up at him.

"That I can do." His lips crash down on yours and his tongue intertwines with yours.

Reaching down to his pants you fumble with his zip, which he helps your shaky hands undo. He shifts both his pants and boxers down off his ankles, and though you can't see his length fully from this angle, you can feel its hardness press against your lower stomach and he feels big.

"You ready, baby?" He raises his brow at you as he grips his member and teases it through your folds.

"Yes, please Negan," you pant, even after having the best orgasm of your life, you still need more. "Need you inside me."

He groans as he slips inside of you and the way you practically beg for him drives him crazy.

"So fucking tight, holy shit," he mumbles into your ear, his head dropping down to bite and suck on the crook of your neck. "Oh, baby, fuck."

Hearing him say such obscene things affects you in an indescribable way. His voice has always been massively attractive to you, but now...you're done for. The deep rumble, smooth like honey, even lower in an attempt to remain quiet to your family in the surrounding bedrooms. It's like dark magic. It has you hooked. He could say the right thing to you with that voice and you'd cum right there and then.

His movements are slow, savoring the sensation of you around him. He wants to take his time with you. He never wants it to be over.

Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his back and lift your hips up wanting more from you. He maintains his pace, but does start pushing deeper inside you like you wanted.

"I've wanted you for so long," you say, not even in control of your words anymore. It's like he's fucking them right out of you. He moans into your neck at your admission and starts thrusting a little faster, as if in response to your statement.

"Do you know-" he stops speaking for a moment to breathe and compose himself, clearly enjoying this as much as you, "how often I get myself off thinking about you?" He punctuates his point with a particularly hard thrust and that - in combination with the idea of him masturbating to the thought of you - causes you to cry out. You thought he would shush you, but he seems too far gone at this point.

"A fucking pretty little thing like you," he says, his hands groping at your tits, his touch rougher than before, "it'd be hard not to."

"Oh god," you whimper. "Harder, please."

His movements get harsher gradually, following your command and getting you closer and closer every second.

He lifts his head up and the way he looks at you makes your insides collapse. To be the sole object of his attention. How he looks at you like you're all that ever mattered.

"I'm so close, Negan," you tell him.

"Taking me so fucking well, darling," he praises, reaching one hand down to lazily play with your clit. That's all it takes and he can feel it coming as you begin to squeeze around him. He takes your lips in a long, sensual kiss as you climax, trying to muffle your moans as he fucks you through your orgasm. Your hands are wrapped around his back, squeezing into his shoulders as you try your hardest to be quiet. Pure pleasure surges through your veins as he presses his entire body weight into you: suffocating in the most beautiful way possible.

Gradually, Negan's movements come to a halt and he stops moving inside you briefly, letting go of you come down from your high.

"You're gonna be the fucking death of me," he declares and before you can reply, he suddenly starts moving inside you again, faster than the last time, placing a quick peck on the tip of your nose as he does so.

He soon reaches a pace much faster than before and you're rendered speechless.

Your attention is grabbed, however, by the open and shut of a door somewhere. You gasp and your eyes widen at the sound. The possibilities of who it could be and if they'd heard you start to race through your mind but your thoughts are cut off when Negan clasps a hand firmly over your mouth to keep you quiet. He presses you further into the mattress as he fucks you even harder than before, enjoying tormenting you.

You listen closely to the footsteps. They're quite loud - that of a man - probably your dad or uncle. The pitter patter grows closer and your heard races, both from the fear of getting caught and from the sensation of Negan deep inside you. Hitting places you're sure no other man ever has or ever could. You relax a little as you hear the footsteps pass Negan's bedroom and head into the shared bathroom, the door closing afterwards.

Negan takes his hand off your mouth and you gasp for air.

"Oh my god, please don't stop," you beg as he sets a pace and sticks with it, snaking his slender fingers back down to your clit and circling it gently.

"I don't plan on," he chimes. "You're taking me so well."

You've never felt anything like this. Your entire body is numb and slick with sweat. All you can do is grab onto his hair and try your best to lift your hips to meet his thrusts.

To help you out, he grabs your body and switches positions slightly. He lifts himself up then clutches your thighs, lifting them onto his shoulders. Then his hands grip onto your hips and he has access to you in a way that allows him to go much deeper. You know you can't take much more. You're close to crying just from how much you want to scream his name.

Your eyes keep fluttering shut but you force them opening, wanting to keep them on the man doing this to you. His tousled hair, his flexed biceps, his tattooed chest.

"Harder, please," you whisper. "I'm nearly there."

Thrusting harder, he also adds his fingers back to your clit, rubbing harshly. It's almost painful on your sensitive nerves but it feels unreal and it's enough to build you up to near-ecstasy.

Your mouth hangs open but you refrain from making any noise. In one unexpected motion, he lands a slap to your clit and it sends your orgasm rushing.

"Good girl, that's it," he guides you through as your body starts to spasm.

He continually pounds into you and turns his head to the side to place soft kisses to your inner thigh, contrasting the way he now ruthlessly moves inside of you.

You contract around him as you cum and you can tell he is trying his hardest to hold on as he visibly hesitates, not knowing where to release.

"Cum inside me, Negan," you give permission. "Want it so bad."

Those words were all he needed as he spills inside you, the warm liquid filling you.

Gradually, his movements slow down as he fucks you through the both of your orgasms, fucking his cum deeper inside you, and then pulls out and collapses next to you.

You rest your head on his shoulder and to your surprise, he pulls you closer to him, placing a kiss to your forehead.

"Holy shit," you giggle, the whole situation setting in.

Negan's about to speak but his sentence stops forming when the bathroom door opens and closes again. You'd completely forgot about that.

The two of you exchange a glance as you wait for the footsteps to disappear down the hallway. Once they're gone, you relax back into his embrace.

Absentmindedly, you place your hand on Negan's warm chest, tracing the ink of his tattoos. Its surprisingly comforting having him this close, to be held by him. You're entranced by the smell of his cologne and the way his chest heaves up and down, catching his breath. He smiles as he watches you, equally as entranced by you. He can't quite believe that the daydreams he thought were exactly that - daydreams - have come to life.

"We'll have to do this again," he grins coyly, "some place where you can scream my name as loud as you need to." His hands run over your body, cupping your breasts as if to appreciate as much of you as possible.

"I'd like that," you smile back, snuggling into his arms. You know you can't stay here all night, but you'll appreciate it for as long as possible.

[little-fairy-forest]

Stitches of love

-> bakugo x fem! Reader

-> domestic, fluff, romance, she / her

-> reader finds herself going crazy over what to get her mitsuki for motherday, little does she know she had a helping hand all along.

"Katsuki please just give me some ideas what to get her" y/n pleaded as she rests her head in her hands. The list infront of her started back as she scratches out all her ideas so far on what to get her mother in law for her birthday. Jewellery? No she had so much, a holiday? Seems like a large present for your first year as her official daughter in law, home made jam?–

"She'd love anythin' if you gave it to 'er" Katsuki grumbles as he sips his coffee staring at y/n. They both knew he was right, y/n could give mitsuki a lump of dirt and She'd be so greatful you'd swear it was a lump of gold. But if katsuki gave it to her? He'd never hear the end of how thoughtless it was...

"What are you getting her? Surely you've ran out of ideas aswell?" Y/n rubs her face in defeat as she realises she only has 3 days to find a present. The clock is ticking, especially since you have to buy it, wrap it, and pray its good enough.

"Got her and the old man tickets to that candle lit concert in Tokyo, gotta meal for them aswell before the show" katsuki says as it's the most obvious thing ever... because everyone can afford to get expensive tickets to a private showing of the Tokyo orchestra at candlelight. Y/n huffs as she moves herself away from the table, frustrated as her plans were coming to a dead-end. Katsuki shrugs as suggests they can share the present as that wouldn't be a problem, but for y/n , she wanted her own present for her own mother in law.

"Back to the drawing board"

2 days to go

The dim lights of the lamp cascade over y/n as she tries to pull out another knott that's found its way into the ball of yarn.

"Stupid thing, why are the strings so thin–"

"Why are you still awake?" Katsuki emerges from the kitchen, peeping his head into the living room to find his wife tangled in balls of yarn, frustrated at the pattern in front of her. Who know making a blanket was so difficult?

"I can't figure the pattern out, why is knitting so hard katsu! Why do people do this to relax"

"Cuz old hags have all the time in the world to do that stuff, now get your ass to bed"

The small half-arsed square that was meant to be a blanket falls flat into y/ns lap as she realises this was another failed attempt at a present for mitsuki. The blanket would've had to of been perfect, can't give a seamstress a rag and pass it off as a blanket made out of love. What symbol would that give?

"Stupid yarn"

1 day to go

The perfect way to a person's heart is through their stomach, is that how the saying goes? Doesn't matter! Either way you found yourself 3 cakes deep into perfecting this stupid old recipe. katuki claims " the old hags loves "... but why is it so hard to master the recipe?

Many hours into baking whatever is in the oven, because there's no way you can even call the lumpy mess a 'cake'. Katsuki takes over as he cannot let anything to be made in his kitchen be considered inedible. You watched as katsuki whipped around the kitchen, making dinner and cleaning up the mess you made. What are you going to do now? The deadline is near, and you've nothing to bring to the dinner tomorrow for mitsuki?

Great way to impress your mother in law

"Listen, she won't care if you've nothin in your hands sweets, trust" Katsuki says to distract you from your storming thoughts.

"I just don't know what to do babe, I've tried so many ideas. I don't have to give up but what choice do I have–"

"Quit your ramblin and go wash up before dinner," katsuki cuts your rambles with instructions. He knows it's best to distract you if you're having working thoughts.

You make your way to the bathroom to wash up before dinner. Your head is still flooded with last minute ideas of presents to give mistuki.

"Where's all the soap gone? Why doesn't katsuki refill the container when it's empty? Typical" you say, reaching into the press to grab and refill the soap dispenser. You make a quick note of things you need to get in the shops before you go to dinner tomorrow as you're almost out of some essentials.

As you rummage through the bathroom cabinet, your fingers brush against a small, inconspicuous box tucked behind some toiletries. Curiosity piqued, you retrieved it, your heart quickening as you read the label. With a mixture of trepidation and hope, you take a gamble with this last chance of a home made present.

Birthday dinner

Mistuki has been filling yous in on her latest fashion looks she has been in the process of designing since last spring. Masaru has just set down the tea post dinner as you've all settled into the sitting room to unwind after that very tasty dinner katsuki scrubbed up. Who knew your man was so kind?

"Here's your present ma..." katsuki sheeply hands over his gift knowing his mother will make a deal out of the concert he has gotten her tickets for. You watch as mistuki stumbles over with glee as she hugs? Katsuki and thanks him. You haven't seem them hug since you had gotten married!

Masaru thanks katsuki for getting him a ticket also, placing the present aside waiting for the two blonds to settle down.

" it's something small, hope we can all share this special present" you hint towards the box you hand over to mitsuki. Katsuki looks at you knowingly you done fucked up the blanket and the cake, so what did you get her?

Mistuki opens the box to find a tiny baby blanket you had hand knitted from the rags you started with, paired with a tiny test signaling your little life growing within.

Mistuki stumbles over the test, clarifying with you that what she is reading really is coming true!

"YOUR PREGNANT?!"  She gleams as she jumps from her seat shuffling over to hug you. Katsuki looks at you with hope in his eyes, why hadn't you told him?!

"Yes , I hope this trumps katsuki present mistuki" you hug Mistuki back as masaru looks into the box reading the little note beside the blanket

"Cant wait to snuggle you in this blanket made out of love, sweat and tears,

Love, baby bakugo due 2X25"

Yep. You've finally outdone your husband in gift giving.

Now how will you out do Masarus birthday..

What did I just write...

Ew

[glitterjuju]

Big Brat Energy

Summary: Sometimes it takes being a brat to teach Frank how you like being handled.

Pairing: Frank Castle x Reader

Warnings: Smut. Degradation. Oral. Toxic relationships. Reader is mean. Weed smoking.

A/N: For all the brats who know that being a sub is a position of power.

As you reach across your bed to your nightstand, searching for your post-sex-spliff, a realization settles on your sweat damp skin.

You have to teach Frank Castle how you like being fucked.

The first time, right now, it's... pleasant. You don't want pleasant. If you wanted pleasant, you wouldn't have taken the time out of your busy schedule to seduce the fucking Punisher.

“Hi."

"Nice to meet ya.”

That’s what it’s like. Frank takes you out to eat despite you not wanting a “date” walks you back to your place and gives you some standard , mundane bullshit. Eats you out, doggy then missionary, kisses you all throughout, respectfully comes in his condom. To be fair, any normal woman would’ve been limp-legged from his performance, but you’re not the normal woman are you? It feels good, you come, multiple times as a matter-of-fact, but where’s the fire? The passion?

“I’m not your wife, Frank,” you spit. You hope it hurts him. He's built for it – his scar clad body all but proclaims that. Men after sex are vulnerable, nows the time to slip the knife between bone. “Don’t fuck me like her.”

Even he, a trained killer, can't hide the shock in those black eyes of his. It's shock and a glint of something else. You can't put a name on it and assume that it's anger. Good. He can take it out on you if he wants.

Only a small percentage of light from outside your window enters your room. It paints Frank hideously. Hard lines. Jagged nose. A small scrape cutting across his cheek. You can see the monster that terrorizes Hell’s Kitchen. You understand why so many are afraid of him.

He reaches for the lamp next to him. When his turns it on, the monster remains. “The fuck you just say to me?"

The joint magically appears after rummaging through your junky desk. Right there beneath all the ripped out magazine pics you hoard for inspiration. Indica after dick was a tried-and-true ritual regardless if the dick was bomb or not. Now all you needed was a light-

He smacks the preroll from your hand, you sigh. The spliff rolls somewhere in your junky room – forever lost amongst clothes and art supplies. You’d never see it again. Not unless you plan on cleaning which you didn't.

"Dude,” you say, “The fuck?”

“Why would you say that shit to me?”

“Because it's the truth. You're the punisher, I wanted to be punished,” you say. It's a flat tone. Deadpan. It's also a test, if Frank couldn't handle your nasty attitude, toxic and all, he didn't deserve you. And you would've been wrong about your prejudgement of him. Something tells you, he can handle you, he's just holding back. “Feels like I slept with Mr. Rogers and now I'm out of weed. I deserve a refund.”

You expect him to be angry over bringing up his dead wife and surprisingly, he's not. If his next barb back to your is any indicator, he's pissed about something else. His bare shoulders hunch and he’s quiet. Mute. Like he’s trying to put together a puzzle not knowing that you’d stolen some of its pieces.

“You weren’t talking all that shit when I was making you come.”

There it is. The criticism of his sex game irks him.

Aww, you hurt his precious male ego.

“So? That’s what a dick is supposed to do. You did your job. You want kudos because you did the goddamn bare minimum?”

“The bare minimum had you calling me daddy.”

“To be fair, I thought that moaning Mr. Roger would've been inappropriate,” you chuckle. “Dude, don't be so sensitive. Man the fuck up, marine.”

It's mean. Who cares. You're without weed now so he has to feel your wrath. It's not a surprise that Frank leaves after that. He grabs his clothes, puts them on in silence, and slams the door shut behind him.

Whatever.

You suck him off next to one of your graffiti paintings of him.

Did he really think he wouldn’t sleep with you again? Did he really believe he had that much restraint? You had him figured out before he could get the one-up on you.

He’s on punishment. After that last fuck session he’s not allowed to touch your pussy let alone fuck you. But goddammit if you weren’t going to swallow every inch of him.

Head bobbing along his dick, you take your hands and grab his own. You place them behind your head. It gives him the go ahead to control the pace. Let’s him fuck your mouth just how he wants.

“Goddamn,” he mutters, pushing your head further than he ever anticipates it going. If anyone catches you both on the rooftop of this random building, they were in for one helluva sight.

He looks down, watching as you go to town on him. It’s a work of art. A trained skill that he doesn’t want to know how you got so talented at. It’s wet. More spit than he’s used to. It coats him shaft to ass crack in smathers of sloppiness and drips into his pants that pool around his ankles.

“You got a mouth on you, girl, I’ll tell you that.“

Your throat convulses around him and you make a strangled noise. He immediately lets go of you, but that’s when he feels it. The slight pinch of your teeth along him. It’s not enough to hurt, but it’s enough to wake him the fuck up.

"Alright,” he says. “Alright. I hear ya.”

You choke on him and it’s an odd thing for him to get used to. But get used to it he will.

His head hits the back of the wall behind him when he sinks into the rhythm of your mouth. A rhythm that he commands you to follow. You know what’s to next. Can feel it as his hands tighten in your hair and his breathing deepens to hard grunts.

You moan around him, that sweet fucking mouth of yours vibrating against him tip to base and he loses it.

“Goddamn,” he grunts and you taste him in the back of your throat. He fills up your mouth pretty damn quick. You can’t contain all of it.

“Fucking fuck.”

He’s not a very poetic man.

You’re teary eyed and pouty lipped when you finish Tiny trickles of his come and your spit drip along your chin.

His eyes stare directly into yours. They’re lust filled. Hazy with it. Just a hunch, but you bet he probably can't see straight right now. You did your job and you did it well. Because of it, you own his ass. He didn’t even fucking know it yet.

You gather the remains of his juices on your fingers and make sure none of him is lost.

“Thank you, sir,” you’re panting. He’s fucked the wind out of your lungs and you’re proud of your work. As proud of it as you were the mural you painted that sits behind him like a halo. “May I get off my knees, please?”

Jesus Christ. He’s never been at the receiving end of this kind of shit. He and Maria had a good sex life, but it was not this. Never this.

“Sir?"

Your voice bring him back into his body.

"Yeah,” he says and you stand. You were kind enough to pull his pants up along the way. Beneath your dress, there’s harsh bruises on your knees from where cruel asphalt dug. Shit, he didn’t mean to hurt you. “You alrig-”

“Did I do a good job?” you ask. Your voice is gentle, but he knows. He’s not that daft. You don’t want kindness.

“Yeah, you did good. Real good.”

“I should’ve waited for you to tell me to swallow, but I couldn’t help myself.”

This was a test.

He wipes at the fucked-out tears on your cheeks. The next bit makes you smirk. “Don’t let it happen again.”

He kisses the top of your head and you guys get pastrami sandwiches after this. You talk about life as an art teacher. He tells you a few stories of his life in the Marines. You both realize how weird each other is.

He sleeps on just a mattress. No bedframe, nothing. Just a mattress soaked in y'alls combined sweat. It’s like fucking on concrete. It makes it nasty - makes it primal.

You’re face down, ass up, a tried and true position. But the way Frank is handling you has you biting sheets. You never bite sheets. What in the fuck.

He’s earned his way back into your pretty pussy after careful training.

You’re in his apartment this time. It used to be as cold as a prison cell. Now it’s a cold prison cell, but with little shit of yours in it. A sketchpad. You have a towel. He fucking has tampons beneath his sink. Even keeps your favorite frozen pizza in his freezer.

Neither of you mention what this thing has become. No waaaay.

It’s stupid for him to be involved with you: a stoner who idolizes him in graffiti across the city.

And you’re fucking a mass murderer.

It’s recipe for disaster. The bomb is going to detonate one of these days.

But he’s dicking you down so good now. You couldn’t let him go and let the next bitch prosper.

“Get it, girl,” he grunts, slapping your ass. He does it again without giving you time to settle into the sting. “Get it.”

“You liking the view?"

"Did I say you could talk?” Your bratiness is rewarded with another hand to your ass. It’s much harder than the other two. You cry out, but you don’t tell him to stop. If you did, this whole operation would be shut. the fuck. down. “Shut up and take it.”

You toss your ass back on him and he meets you with forceful thrusts. There’s nowhere to run, no softness in how he handles you.

You give in.

“There you go, atta girl. Come on it.” He pushes you down by your spine, furthering your arch. That’s when he starts to give it to you nice and slow. He presses deep into a part of you that makes your eyes roll. “You take every inch of me so well and it’s all for you. Now come on it.”

He’s a fast learner.

[triplesilverstar]

Day 2

Rating: Explicit 18+ Minors DNI

Pairing: Vampire Knives X F!Reader

CW: Dub con, serious dub-con, Smut, angst and smut, mentions of breeding, blood, injury, Physical abuse, blood-sucking, penis in vaginal sex, Kidnapping

Word count: 2081

A/N: Day 2, this one is a two part fic. Enjoy some Vampire Knives and a cameo appearance of Legato. Still the faithful servant.

Taking a deep breath as you wake up in the morning running a hand through your hair before putting it up and out of your face and getting dressed. Fingers sore from all the cleaning of the household the last few days, all in preparation for some kind of lord or count coming to visit. 

You don’t mind hard work, you were born into a household as a servant, and from an early age, you were cleaning. Once you were old enough you were moved from the kitchen into the direct employ of the lord’s only daughter. 

Employ makes it sound nice, really you’re the young lady’s beating girl. You wait on her hand and foot and when she gets into trouble you’re the one taking the belt for her. 

At least now with her at sixteen, she’s at the age to be married off, and you just hope you aren’t made to follow her as part of her dowry. Fingers crossed that all the cleaning over the last few days will make the right impression on the visiting lord who is apparently looking for a wife. At least that’s the word you’ve heard from the kitchen girls. Dressed just before dawn you make your way to your young mistress's bedroom to start preparing for the day. 

Hours later your hands carefully folded as the young lady stomped her foot impatiently. “I said I wanted the red bow!”

“My lady. Your father has requested you wear the blue dress and matching bow, don’t you want to make your father happy?” 

“I don’t care what my father wants! I want the red bow.” Sighing internally you do as your young mistress commands, aware that later you’ll be in for a beating. 

By evening just after the sun has set, you hear the clamor in the hallway as the visiting lord enters keeping your gaze straight ahead from your position in the serving room. Tea is prepared to welcome him while the young mistress waits for him. Her father, and who you can only assume is the visiting lord enters, his voice cultured, and even as he explains the delay in his arrival some sort of mishap on the road. It sends a chill down your spine as he seems to dominate the room with his presence. 

While you keep your gaze forward you don’t miss his appearance, he’s tall and broad with a handsome face and cool eyes. A small mole on the left side of his face just beneath his eye. Something about those eyes catches your attention, making your heart freeze in your chest. Something unnatural. 

Serving the tea when called upon, Lord Millions, the visiting lord, makes a comment regarding your steady hands which your mistress makes a backhand comment about. 

That evening you feel the sting of leather across your back because of the red bow, told it will be your fault if there isn’t a proposal for marriage before the young lord departs. As you leave wincing, Lord Millions butler Legato sees you slip away back covered in bruises and lacerations towards the servant's quarters. 

The next three days pass in a similar manner, and that evening after your beating you hide in the hedge maze trying to stem the fine lacerations on your back. You can’t have your clothes stained with your blood. 

A noise in the hedge makes you freeze, mortification flooding you as Lord Millions turns into the dead end you’d hidden yourself away in. A single pale eyebrow rose in surprise. “My apologies, I assumed everyone was inside for the night.” 

Turning your face to the ground and trying to make yourself smaller “You owe me no apologies m’lord. I shouldn’t be here.” Jumping as you feel smooth fingers run under your chin, forcing your gaze upwards and meeting his own cool teal eyes. 

“You appear to be injured.” His voice is soft almost as if laced with concern. 

“Injuries resulting from my own faults M’lord. Nothing someone of your standing should be concerned with.” You want to hide more, people of his status shouldn’t care about people like you. 

A tsk from him, a noise of annoyance and you thought you saw a flash of red in his eyes. “More like faults of your young charge, spoilt brat that she is.” Using the hold on your chin he looks over your face, tilting your head this way and that before looking over your back, and you miss the way he licks his lips. 

“Tis not my place to say, m’lord.” Which is the truth, servants do not speak ill of their betters. 

“Regardless, you should not be burdened by such treatment.” Jumping once more as his breath washes over the skin of your face, catching his eyes once more you feel something take over, like a mist clouding your mind. “Upon my arrival, you appear to be the only person of note at this estate. I think I’d like to have a sample of you.”

His voice is so soothing and you feel like you’re floating away, you should be surprised when his lips catch yours. You know what kissing is, had done it with one of the stable boys but this feels so much better than fumbling around in the dark, as his lips move against yours. One of your hands raises to touch the back of his head and you moan as your fingers come into contact with the soft texture of his blond locks.

A moan that Lord Millions is quick to take advantage of, plundering your mouth with his tongue making you moan even more. Your body responds to his actions as you feel a dampness from the lower regions of your body. 

The haziness in your mind continues as you feel one of Lord Millions hands glide down your side and to the front of your skirt, slowly lifting the fabric and touching the hem of your undergarments, pushing them down to touch the bare skin. 

“Tell me little maid” whispered against your mouth when he pulled away from you. “Have you ever lain with a man before?”

You see no reason to lie to him “No M’lord.” All you have done is kiss boys who said you were pretty, you knew if one of those boys or any of the men working the estate touched you you’d be thrown out before you had time to defend yourself. 

“Knives” trailing his nose along your cheekbone as his hand slides between the folds between your legs. “Call me Knives. Tonight you are going to feel a man for the first time then. I think I’ll quite enjoy it.” You can hear the purr in his voice, he’s happy about something but you have no idea what it could be. 

He’s back to kissing you and the world falls away to nothing but the sensation of his plush lips as they work against yours with a bruising intensity. The scent of the woods and copper filled your nose, tasting the heady flavor of what could only be the wine that had been served with dinner on his tongue. 

Gasping as you feel something prodding the opening between your legs, Knives’s hands moving downwards grabbing your hips and lifting you with a strength you couldn’t have known a noble to be capable of. The wiry branches of the hedge pressing into your back causes you to hiss from the pain lacing through you, already tender from your ‘punishments’ earlier. 

“Wrap your legs around mine” While his voice is low you know a command when you hear one, it’s most of what you’ve heard your entire life. Doing just that you hear a hum of satisfaction, biting your lip to keep from crying out as he loosens his hold on your hips and he slides deep inside of your core. “Good girl, you take my cock so well, like you were made for me to pleasure myself with you.” 

Biting your lip as he pumps in and out of your body, a burning forming in your core and you feel so relaxed in his arms certain your body is on fire with the moisture you feel forming under your hair. Yet when you look at Knives it seems to be having no difficulty at all, just lazily moving his length inside your body as if he has all the time in the world. 

“It has been a while for me and I think I’ll enjoy watching you squirm as I fill you up.” What. No. Through your haze you know that’s a terrible idea.

“Please M’lord, you might put a bastard in my belly.” He starts to thrust harder, making your body shudders in his tight hold as he fucks you chasing his pleasure, a side effect being your own building from his actions. 

A low chuckle from him, and in the pale light of the moon you notice his gleaming white teeth. Fangs. He has fangs. “Something else might decide if a bastard goes in your belly or not.” A single hard deep thrust and you feel a warmth spreading inside your body, a feeling you don’t get to dwell on as his teeth sink into your neck and pleasure racks your system. 

You can barely feel anything hands sliding from Lord Millions' shoulders, you didn’t even know you had placed them there. You do however hear the working of his throat, drinking you down, the wet popping slurp as his mouth removes itself from your skin. 

“Legato” another command and you wonder why he’s calling for his butler, vision blurry you can make out his form as Lord Millions removes his softening cock from your body and places you on the ground.

“Yes, Master?” 

“Take her back to the castle, I want the first stud used. She’s the best-tasting human I’ve had in a century. I fully expect her with a child upon my return and the rest of her unharmed. I have plans for my newest broodmare.” You have no idea what any of that means, as you’re thrown over Legato’s shoulder, passing out from the blood loss. 

The next day the household is in an uproar not that you’ll ever know, Knives is sitting in the closed-off dining room. An excuse about the light bothering his eyes to ensure he doesn’t have to walk in the beaming rays of the day.

“Once I find that little bitch I’ll have her skinned alive, my apologies for the delay in my daughter joining us Lord Millions.” The uproar is because you’re missing, household chores have not been completed and the brat of this lord has been screaming about how it’s your fault that she isn’t ready. 

Knives for his part just smiles behind his teacup, never enough to reveal his teeth to the overweight Lord. Knives knew the aristocrats he used to trick into sending their daughters to his home to serve as brood mares for his stock were becoming fat and lazy. He likes his meals to have flavor and in the last century, all he seemed to come across was spoilt meat. You had been a welcome surprise last night, the bit of blood he had drained from you like a seven-course meal flooding his palate. 

As the day passed and the brat still wasn’t ready Knives finally spoke out directly as the Lord of the house kept blaming you for the failings of his daughter. "Perhaps she has left to a place that will treat her with respect. Your daughter certainly didn't nor did you. If you mistreat servants they will leave for greener pastures."

“How dare you!” The fat Lord you had once served was red in the face, sneering at his guest. 

“I dare since I had come to glean if your daughter would make a suitable bride, clearly she will not. I treat my servants in such a way as to retain them and their loyalty. I shall depart from this failing home this evening. No need to see me off.” Knives hummed happily to himself as he departed in his carriage, the thick drapes keeping the sun from reaching him. 

Licking his lips in anticipation of his return home after the last few households were visited, appearances of the Lord Millions ninth generation looking for a spouse needed to be maintained. Otherwise, in another three decades, he might have a harder time masquerading as the tenth generation looking for a young bride. 

Dividers

Back to List

[lovingkvinner]

The aftermath-

Larissa weems x reader

Basically all the shit that went down after that bitch Marilyn fucked shit up

Tw: death, near death, fire, anxiety and hot milfs

You were getting worried, it was 6.30 and your wife wasn’t even home yet, and to make matters worse when you called she wasn’t picking up. Larissa was always home at 6, every day, she was never late, your wife was a woman who loved a strict routine and if she was going to be late then she definitely would have told you. Dinner had been ready in the pan for a full half hour now and you were just stirring it, keeping it warm and trying not to burn it. ‘Everything is fine, she, she’s fine” you said to yourself as you drew away from the kitchen counter and to the phone. “She will just be dealing with something and her phone ran out of battery. Wednesday will have been causing trouble again I’m sure” you reassured yourself like you were a nervous child, picking up the phone you dialled nevermore’s number hoping that someone would pick up. The phone didn’t even ring. Why wasn’t it ringing? You felt your chest tighten and you pulled your wife’s cardigan that you were wearing tighter around your body, breathing in her scent.

Your cat brushed itself up against your eyes and you reached down to hold it for comfort, you cradled it in your arms like it was a baby “your mother will be home soon Florence… shes just, running late” the cat had no idea what you were saying and just stared back at you with empty eyes before crawling out of your arms.

You placed the phone back on the stand and fiddled with the rings on your finger, you were about to wonder off to the kitchen again to try and salvage the burned mess that had once been dinner when you heard the door open.

In staggered a tired looking Larissa.

“Oh my god-“ you covered your hand with your mouth “I was so worried no one was answering any calls I was about to get in the car and come looking for you” it was at this moment you noticed her appearance, her eyeliner had travelled with her tears to run rivers down her face and her clothes were covered in what looked like soot.

Instinctively you grabbed your wife’s coat from her like you did every evening she returned home but instead of hanging it by the door like usual you just placed it on the floor as it needed to be cleaned.

Larissa said nothing and just hugged you, you held her as she let out a sob, you didn’t even care about your own clothes getting dirty.

“What happened” you asked stroking her mess of hair

“I’m never hiring a normie again. Or anyone for that matter….” She said as the two of you stood.

You pulled back from your wife with confusion “what are you taking about”

“Marilyn wasn’t actually, well, Marilyn. she was Laurel gates and she tried to resurrect some cragstone to kill all of the outcasts and then she poisoned me but I managed to survive when I shapeshifted into a rabbit because I knew they are immune to deadly nightshade but then the building was on fire and a dead corpse was trying to kill everyone but then Wednesday and some of the others killed him… for a second time and no one knows that I’m actually alive and-“ she said all of this without breathing or taking a moment to think.

“Rissa darling slow down you’re in shock, I think you should sit down ‘n i’ll get you some water and we can process this together” you dragged your wife to the table where you made her sit down but when you tried to get her a glass of water she held on to your wrist to stop you.

You took this as a sign and sat down.

“But that’s not the important part!” She told you, her hands holding yours as her teary eyes gazed at you, you had never seen her this way before in the 14 years you had known her “when I was dying and I thought I would never see you again I realised something”

Saying nothing you decided to let her speak and freed one of your hands so you could caress her face, you weren’t sure why but now you were crying too.

“I realised that you are all I want and, and that school is what is holding me back from everything, from happiness, from moving on, from feeling alive. I can’t let it keep me in this god awful town and keep you here too we need to leave, get away, go anywhere” the look in your wife’s eyes was erratic, like someone who’d taken their first shot of heroin and thought they had found god.

You were both sobbing “where Riss where would we go?”

“Wherever you want as long as you are there then I don’t care. We could go back to London have a life see all of our old friends and you could go back to working in the museum instead of the stupid cragstone museum where your mind is wasted and I could teach there, there’s plenty of outcast schools or, or we could even go back to your home I know you miss it and you could show me everything you loved I can learn the language I don’t care!” She was insane but you loved her, this wasn’t the usual Larissa, the sensible Larissa who never did one spontaneous thing her whole life. You liked this though she was finally beginning to see what everyone else is seeing. You sat in awe for a second not saying anything.

This worried your wife.

“Say something please, say anything even if it’s calling me crazy just speak” your wife pleaded and you squeezed her hands to let her know you were thinking of the words.

“I always knew you were bigger than that stupid old school.” You smiled and Larissa gave you the biggest kiss. She sighed and you could finally feel her muscles relax.

Turning around to look at your cat you told her “Florence pack your bags we’re leaving for London”

Larissa laughed at this “don’t worry I’ll find our daughter the best cat school” she joked.

The mood soon turned sour as a knock sounded on the door. “Who could that be?” You wondered.

Larissa’s returned to being panicked “oh, that will be the police they think I’m dead!”

“Well what should I say?!” you asked her desperately. Your wife looked around herself aimlessly “I hope you can act. Faking your death is about as fresh as fresh starts come?”

Kissing your wife on the forehead you stood up and made your way towards the door, you looked back at her and smirked “you were never heeereeeee” you joked in a spooky voice before sauntering away

Larissa stayed close enough that she could here but not close enough she could be seen.

You pulled the door open and put on your worried wife act “hello, oh officer what is it? Is something wrong” it helped you had been crying, seemed more authentic.

He looked towards the floor, a look of regretful anticipation was plastered on his tired face “it’s, it’s your wife, Larissa Weems”

You opened the door further to look interested “oh what is it? I am dreadfully worried, see she was supposed to be home over half an hour ago I can’t seem to get a hold of her.” You increased your worried expression and god you hoped this was enough.

“I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this but, I’m afraid she’s passed away” he didn’t make eye contact with you.

Tears flowed down your face at an instant “no; no no no what do you mean. No she’ll be home any minute you’ve got the wrong person!” You found it pretty easy to act sad and you hadn’t felt that different from the emotion only minutes prior.

“We’ve had witness accounts say she was poisoned. Although we don’t have a bod-“ he began to explain.

“What do you mean no body?!” You asked in desperation, you didn’t want to look like you were accepting your own wife’s death.

“Well we’ve had witnesses say she died but we haven’t found her in the wreck yet…” he said, more drawn back than before.

“I think I want time to process this on my own if you don’t mind officer”, your hands covered your face as you weeped.

“Of course, I’ll swing by if I get anymore information. I’m sorry for your Loss” that was all he said before walking away from the porch and climbing back into his car.

You slammed the door shut with relief.

“And scene!” Announced your wife from the kitchen

“Do you still have funerals if there is no body” walking over to her you leaned your body into hers.

“Yeah it’s just like an empty casket and everyone pretends” in amidst your conversation with the police your wife had been rooting through the pantry and was now eating cookies, she offered you one and you took it gladly.

“Guess we’ll have to stay until the funeral, it would be suspicious if I left seconds after my wife had dropped dead” you breathed in the scent of your wife which once was expensive perfume was now the smell of smoke and dirt.

Larissa was visibly exited “ I am SO attending my own funeral but like as someone famous so everyone thinks I’m cool” she squeezed you as she held you and placed a kiss on your cheek from behind.

Chuckling at your wife you escaped from her grasp “you are such a narcissist”

“No I just want to see Wednesdays face when she thinks I’m dead. Anyway I’m hungry do you want to order pizza?”

“Absolutely”

[topazy]

Tomorrow’s promise

Paring: Shane Walsh x reader, Rick Grimes x sister reader

Warning: Mentions of violence

Chapter: 1.01

You grip onto the side of a table in an abandoned bar, doing your best to hold back a scream. An agonising pain shot through your stomach and sides as sweat dripped down your body. You attempt to move to hide when you hear footsteps approaching, but it’s no use, you're in a room full of pain.

You lift your head to see three men staring down at you and you weakly reach for your knife. “Hey, hey chica, we're not going to hurt you okay,” one of them kneels beside you.

Something in his soft tone made you believe him, so you dropped the knife before letting out a loud groan of pain.

“Have you been bitten?”

“No, no, I don’t know what’s happening to me,” you sob.

He orders the other two men to help you stand in Spanish. “I’m Guillermo, but you can call me G. What’s your name?”

“Lily!” You yell as your knees start to give way.

“Lily, that’s a pretty name,” a teenage-looking boy says from the doorway. “You're lucky we heard you scream before the dead did.”

“My friend Felipe is a nurse,” said Guillermo, hitting the young boy on the back of the head lightly before looking at you. “He’s a special care provider. I’m going to take you to him, okay?”

You nod, knowing you don’t have any other choice.

—

You sit up in bed, looking out the barred-up window at the sunlight streaming through.The last twenty-four hours had been insane, but now in the daylight, things didn’t seem so scary. The world was still a mess, but at least you knew there was some good left in it. The men that helped you took you to a residential care home that Felipe had worked in previously, which was still occupied by elderly patients.

You turned your attention to the door when someone knocked at it. Guillermo walked in with a tray of food in his hands. “Just checking in on you. How are you doing?”

“I’m good. Thank you for saving me. Most people would have left me to die.”

“We gotta do what we can, or what's the point?” he shrugs. “Have you got people outside who will be looking for you?”

“I had a family. My brother Rick, his wife Lori, and my nephew Carl and a fiancé called Shane, I don’t know if they are still alive. I haven’t seen them since all this happened. I was on a night out with friends when... the dead first came, so I don’t know what happened back home.”

He gives you a sympathetic smile. “Who knows, maybe you’ll find them again one day, but until then, you can stay here. We will keep you safe.”

—

The smell of urine and bleach filled your nose as the stench leaked from the bathrooms. Sweat stained your clothes as your hair clung to your forehead, but you didn’t mind. Since you were on light work duty, you mainly cleaned the bathrooms and bedrooms, or helped out in the kitchen.

Turning a corner, you looked into the room G uses as a meeting place with his crew whenever they discuss something serious. You were going to continue on walking until you heard a familiar voice. The bucket of cleaning products fell out of your hand when you pushed the door open further into the room.

“Rick?”

He stares at you for a moment, afraid if he moves too quickly, you’ll vanish. Ricks shakes his head as his eyes well up. He pulls you in for a hug. “I thought you were gone. I thought I’d lost you.”

“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” you say, as tears of happiness spill from your eyes. “Carl? Lori?”

“They’re alive.”

Your mind drifts to Shane, your other half. The time you've spent apart from him wondering if he was dead was hellish. You’d wonder if you’d ever see him again, “and Shane?”

Ricks cups your face gently and says, “He’s alive as well.”

You feel a wave of relief washing over you before hugging Rick again. He was still wearing his sheriff's uniform; it was obviously his way of trying to maintain some control throughout the chaos.

“Who’s this?” A geeky looking guy asks from the other side of the room.

“This is my younger sister, Lily,” Rick says proudly. “Lily, this is Glenn, T-dog, and Daryl.”

You look at G and smile, “I guess I found him again.” He gives you a warm smile, and you tug on Rick's arm, dragging him out of the room. “I’ve got someone who wants to meet you.”

The man named Daryl makes a comment about them not having time to waste, but you ignore him. Your brother would definitely have time to meet his nephew.

—

All of you move down the street towards where their getaway van was parked. Rick keeps glancing over at you, “I can’t believe you had a baby. You never even told me you were pregnant.”

“I didn’t know.”

How dumb do you need to be to not notice a human growing inside? You could hear that question every time you said you didn't know, but it was true; you didn't know until you started crowning.Jace was the tiny blessing you needed in your life, but you knew it wouldn’t be easy and you weren’t the only one who had these thoughts. As soon as you’d said your goodbyes, Rick started leading you back to where camp was, and Daryl immediately started to complain.

“I’m just saying, I ain’t no babysitter,” Daryl snaps. “The moment that thing starts attracting the dead, I’m gone. You’ve already given half our guns and ammo to a bunch of old farts who are going to die off momentarily anyhow. Seriously, how long do you think they've got?”

Your brother goes to say something, but you cut him off, “How long do any of us?” Daryl rolls his eyes at you. “G took me in, saved me, and Jace. Not to mention all the stuff they have given us to take. I’d say a few guns in comparison is a good deal.”

G’s people had given you a small supply of powdered milk, clothes, food, and some medical supplies. They were good people, and it was hard to leave, but you needed to return to your family. It was the best thing for you and Jace. Before you left, Felipe gave you a black coat big enough to zip up over the baby sling resting on your chest. It meant you’d be able to keep Jace warm at night.

“Yeah, well you would…” He trails off when he turns the corner to an empty road. “Where’s our van?”

“You left it right there. Who would take it?” Glenn asks.

“Merle.”

Daryl looks at your brother with a concerned look on his face and says, “He’s going to be taking some vengeance back to camp.”

“What now?” you ask.

“We walk.”

—

You arrive at the camp by nightfall to find it overrun with the undead. You see a young blonde woman getting bitten on the neck and reach for your gun to help, but Rick stops you.

“Quick, get inside the RV!” Your brother spoke frantically, ushering you to go towards the nearby vehicle.

Rick, Glenn, T-Dog, and Daryl run ahead and begin shooting at the dead. You hear a rustling noise coming from the trees behind you. You spin fast and shoot a zombie in the head. You stay back and cover them from behind to make sure no more zombies creep up.

When no more dead appear and the gunfire stops, you walk into an already formed circle of sobbing people. The ground is covered with the dead bodies of people who have just been bitten. You make eye contact with Rick, who’s holding a hysterical Carl and a sobbing Lori. The sweet family reunion you were hoping for was nothing but wishful thinking.

Hearing a gurgling noise, you lift Jace out of his sling and kiss him on the cheek. You were lucky that he was such a quiet baby; he hardly ever cried. He was just hungry.

“Lily?”

You lift your head up to see your horrified fiancé staring at you with wide eyes.

“Hi Shane.”

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Home sweet home

This is a set of scenes that lives rent free in my head. I am writing a fanfic/study/whatever, just a longer text about this, but as for now, let me share!

Steve's parents fuck off for good when Hawkins falls apart and leave Steve the house, probably because it wouldn't sell well with a garden in two pieces, thank you earthquake. Steve feels torn about it and gets drunk with his metalhead boyfriend, admitting that he wants to sell the house, the sooner the better, all the shitty memories and that. Unbeknownst to Steve, Eddie makes a few phone calls and the next morning, Robin, Nancy, Jonathan and Argyle rush in with boxes and trash bags and get to cleaning out the Harrington residence.

None of them talk about his parents and their departure, but Steve can feel that they're pissed off on his behalf, from the way that the level-headed and careful Nancy "accidentally" destroys his mother's treasured perfume collection, that Robin creates a huge yard sale sign that says "YOUR DREAMS CAME TRUE, THEY MOVED AWAY! EVERYTHING HAS TO GO!" and stabs it into the front lawn for all the neighbors to see. Argyle raids his mother's kitchen and bakes them all pizzas when they get hungry, then smokes a joint on the pristine carpet and when Steve remarks his mother would have hated that, he just smiles at him, blissed out, and mutters "good!" Jonathan visits his room to drop off some more boxes and freezes in the doorway. "That's one hideous wallpaper" he says and Steve just laughs because yeah, it is hideous and he's so glad he's leaving. Eddie helps Steve pack his room and gets ready to move him to his trailer until the house is sold, "seriously, Steve, this house is like a mausoleum, tomorrow you're coming with me and that's final." A concerned neighbor probably calls the Hawkins PD that some punks are trashing the Harrington property and when Hopper shows up to check what's going on, he just chuckles and remarks that Joyce keeps talking about getting better curtains, so if those go in the yard sale, he asked first, yeah?

In the evening, they are all tired, but they crash in the halfway packed living room and giggle at the stupid shit they found in the Harrington household. An idea flashes in Steve's head and he drags all of them upstairs, ransacking his father's office. Nothing important there, just a magnificent room to represent a shallow human being. They raid his alcohol stash and bring all the loot downstairs, taking one of Mr. Harrington's most prized trophies as an ashtray. On their way downstairs, Nancy stops and stares at the framed family pictures on the staircase. A perfect family, a successful man, a devoted wife and their son with so much potential. All of it lies. "Do you want to keep any of these?" she asks and when he shakes his head, she nods and takes them all down. While the rest of them discuss which bottle they should open first, Nancy comes back with an innocent smile, the photos and duct tape in one hand, a set of darts from Mr. Harrington's office in the other one. They end up playing darts in the living room, doing shots every time someone hit Mr. Harrington's face, spilling some alcohol on the carpet and overall desecrating the image of perfection and cleanliness Steve's parents cultivated for decades. There are still many pictures left and Nancy suggests that they could take them to her improvised shooting range for a celebration when the house sells. "Shooting at bottles gets boring after a while," she grins and slumps against Robin who is removing the latest photo target, Mrs. Harrington, and hums Ding Dong the Witch is Dead.

The morning finds all of them very hungover, munching on the leftover pizza and cleaning the place before they have to go to their respective homes, families and jobs. Robin is hugging a broom like a lover and swears she's never, ever drinking again. Nancy falls asleep standing next to the coffee machine before Jonathan peels her off the counter and accidentally pours baking soda in his coffee instead of sugar. Argyle and Eddie are mostly fine, chatting and covering holes from the less lucky dart throws. And Steve just stands there, between boxes and trash bags, watches them all, his friends, his boyfriend, and finally feels like his life might be beginning.

[aajjks]

TC!Jungkook | Jungkook definitely did what he needed to do!

*The Queen watches Jungkook leave, blood dripping and all. A part of her is happy that her life is no longer in danger but another part of her realizes, she’ll always live in danger. Whether it’s because she sleeps next to someone who could take her life in an instant or people who will target her to get back at Jungkook. He promised to protect her but fail. Not once but twice. The night in his office was just pure luck. One day there won’t be any lucky…*

“Hoseok… May I stay with you for tonight? I just don’t want to go back to that room…” The Queen quietly asks.

“Of course my Queen! Of course! Would you like for me to gather some of your sleepwear? Okay, I will do just that my Queen.” The trusted nurse replied.

*Later that night with permission from the Queen, Hoseok heads to the King and Queens chambers to receive some pajamas for her. As he steps forward he sees the room is a wreck. The bedding is off the bed, bedside tables are knocked over, glass is broken everywhere. The biggest thing that caught his eye, the balcony floor covered with water and soap. So much blood… Only reason he noticed there was water was because of the bubbles. He expected to find a maid or two here cleaning. Instead when he goes to the bathroom to grab her tooth brush he finds the King with a bucket of water, refilling it. A clear indication that he was the one cleaning the blood off of the balcony. The King looks up with hope in his eyes expecting it to be his wife but annoyance fills his eyes once he notices it’s no more than the nurse.*

Sorry to disturb you sir. The Queen had just asked me to grab a few things for her since she’ll be staying in my room today. I’ll be quick, I promise. Would you like for me to call a maid up? To clean everything?

*Waiting for Hoseok to come back she lies in bed thinking about everything. Her life. Her husband. The possibilities of anything happening. She’s married to the man who kills to feel alive. Everything was fine until she watched him kill someone. She’s not completely oblivious, she knew he still killed but she never knew about it. All she seen was a flashback of life. The man she was terrified of. The man who had her family killed. The man who killed the one who tried to protect her years ago. The man then only cared about keeping her locked away as a prized possession until he got what he wanted. The man she’s married to now is nothing compared to him. Her husband now is kind. He’s caring. He loves her. He trust her. She’s allowed to do anything, go wherever. He treats her like an actual wife. A husband who loves her a little to much but she never goes hungry, asleep alone, walks by herself, he prioritizes her like no other. She just can’t shake what happened. When he first mentioned that he had killed the one he thought was the man, she didn’t mind. She didn’t have to watch. Hear the screams caused by pain. She didn’t have to watch her husband become the beast he is in private. He protected her and that’s what she keep telling herself but the way he enjoyed watching the knife go in and out of the dead body… Haunted her. Becoming thirsty she gets up from Hoseoks bed and walks to the kitchen in the middle of the night. It’s so quiet you could hear the water dripping all the way from the kitchen. Holding onto the wall to keep balance because of her back injury she bumps into a rock hard chest. Looking up to see her husband staring down at her.*

You bump into your husband‘s chest. He immediately looks down at your figure, there you are but you look restless and he does not understand why you wanted to sleep with that nurse instead of your own husband who you know very well cannot sleep without you.

“Yn baby you know I miss you and I cannot sleep without you so please please come back to our chamber so I can finally sleep and what are you doing in the kitchen anyway?”

You are a little disturbed he knows. But you have to understand that he has to kill in order to live and make sure that you live as well. He loves everything about you especially your kind hard, but sometimes it gets in the way of you and him.

“Ynnn please I am not relaxed I need you.” Hey, grab your shoulders before you can leave. And he leans his face close to yours.

“ Come on baby I know you are scared but you know I will always protect you as well and I am sorry you had to witness that but I had to do it in order to protect you and I will do it whenever I need to for you.”

[georgiapeach30513]

Back to Work

Summary:  Zephyr meets teacher

Pairings:  Zephyr/Veda/Rosie X Story/Carter

Rating:  mild

Warnings:  mentions of a drug overdose, drinking, mild language, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  2.1K

Zephyr Baizen Masterlist

Desperate Lives AU Masterlist

“Good morning,” Zephyr walks into the kitchen, handing Rosie over to his mom, and sits Veda onto a stool, before sitting down beside her.  “Ooh, Gimpa is making pancakes,” with a little giggle, Veda reaches over to her dad, wanting to get in his lap.  

“Rosie Osie, are you hungry?” Story asks her youngest granddaughter who moves her hand up and down over her belly.  “Okay, okay, Gimpa is finishing up.  Z, I was wanting to talk to you about my old dance studio.  You can say no, but I think both girls could benefit from taking dance.”

“Dance?  Or ballet?”

“I wanna be a ballerina!  Gaga got me tutus, but she won’t let me wear her tiara.”

Zephyr smiles at his mom before blowing raspberries on her neck, “That’s because she’s saving that for when her daughters get married.  You’re asking to wear the wrong tiara.  That one has real diamonds on it.”

“Gaga, can I be a ballerina?” Veda’s little legs wiggle around, and Story was just happy that Veda’s mother hadn’t been brought up yet.  

“Of course.  I can always make sure you get to practice, but I was also informed they want to do some renovations, and…I might have volunteered you,” Zephyr sighs knowing there was more to this random conversation than his mom originally made it out to be.  “You can always say no.”

“No, I can’t.  You’ve already volunteered me.  So I’ll go and get it renovated, and you’re going to put me on display hoping that some dancer scoops me up.”

“Hehe, daddy, you’re funny.”

“It sure beats going out every Friday night,” she smiles over her mug towards Zephyr, while Carter plates up the pancakes, giving his wife a cheek kiss.  “I’m just saying, you should…”

“Daddy, when is mommy going to call?” Using her two pointer fingers, Rosie pushes them together, mouthing ouch over and over again.  “Daddy, I’m sorry.  I just…I’m sorry,” he gives his daughter the sweetest kiss on her cheek.

“I’ve got to go.”

“Z,” Carter says calmly, “You’re going to eat breakfast with your daughters.  Then you can go to work,” with a single nod of his head, he sits there quietly, but withdrawn.  “Now, Veda, after breakfast, we’ll get you dressed up, and find you a less expensive tiara, okay?”

“Okay, Gimpa, I’m sorry.”

——

Zephyr stares at his daughters asleep in his bed.  He only had an hour or two before Veda would be up, wandering around the castle looking for him.  It was his only time alone.  There were always people running about, but this time of night, everyone had retired to their bed.  Walking downstairs, he stops when he sees his dad at the bar cart pouring two glasses.  

“Sit.”

“Dad, I really don’t want to talk.”

“Sit,” Carter repeats, holding a glass up to his son, and pointing to the plush couch.  “Your mom is asleep in the bed with Audi and Fauna, and you have a baby monitor in your pocket.  We’ve got time to spare.”

He takes a sip of the straight bourbon, and looks out at nothing.  Clenching his teeth for a moment, “You’re pissed off at Piper because she gets to go on and do whatever she wants without consequence.”

“I’m pissed off at Piper because I came home to my baby crying and hitting her mother who passed out.  She had a rash because she hadn’t been changed all day.  I couldn’t find Veda, and when I did she wasn’t moving.  Rosie was still crying, and Veda never moved.  Dad, I thought my daughter was dead.  I thought Piper was, too, and I didn’t care.  The only thing that mattered was my daughters.  Yeah, I’m fucking pissed off that she doesn’t have the decency to get clean and ask about Veda.  Rosie is traumatized and refuses to speak.  We’ve got her signing because of something her mother did to them.”

“Son, I can’t pretend to understand what you’re going through.  What I do know is you’re a good dad,” Zephyr sniffles, and lifts his cup up, completely downing the expensive bourbon.  “But while you’re worrying about your girls, can we not still worry about our son?”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.  You’re working late hours.  If Veda brings up Piper, you are ready to run away.  You go out every Friday and Saturday night, and…”

“I’m just drinking.  I’m not having sex with anyone.  Ask Illiana and Iclynn.  They always come and pick my drunk ass up.  I just need space.  That’s it.  I need time for me to be alone.  But drinking alone is sad, so I go to a bar.  I sit there, I sometimes talk, sometimes I just drink my beer.  Is it so bad that I want time for myself?  I work, I come home, I’m a dad, I’m a big brother, I spend time with my daughters, I get them ready for bed, I lay in the bed and talk to them, and I get mad that Rosie is two and doesn’t even say daddy.  I need,” Carter stands up, and sits down beside his son, wrapping his arms around him.

“I know what mom is doing, but…I can’t date.  My daughters need me.”

“She’s not asking you to date.  She’s wanting you to get out and do something for yourself.  Your mom only wants to see her babies happy.”

“I’m not.  Dad, I screwed up.  I knew what Piper was doing, and I still wanted another baby.  Do you think…what if it’s more than what happened with Rosie, what if…Piper wasn’t good.  She wasn’t clean.  I even tested Rosie, because I didn’t think she was mine, and…dad, I’m just as guilty.  I should have taken Veda and came home.”

Pulling out of his embrace, he holds Zephyr’s face in both of his hands, wishing he was his always dirty little boy again, “We wouldn’t have Rosie.  She’s making sounds out of her mouth.  She’s happy, and she’s perfect.  You should have seen her today with your mom.  Dance will be good for both of them.  Rosie liked her tutu, and didn't even wanna take it off.  Zeph, everyday is a new day.  Quit dwelling on that ugly past.”

“Veda has anxiety.  She’s five.”

“Yeah, well, that could be a Baizen thing.  I had anxiety at that age, too,” a crackle in the monitor makes Zephyr pull it out of his pocket, and then he hears the whisper of Veda.

“I’m counting to ten, daddy.  I need you to keep me warm.”

“Go to sleep, Z.  Remember, we’re only here to help everyone.”

He runs upstairs before Veda starts wandering through the house.  Story steps out of the bedroom, and walks over to sit beside her husband.  Her hand rubs over his chest, while she leans on his shoulder, “I knew there was a reason I fell in love with you when I first met you.”

“My Queen, there’s no way in the world you remember the first time you met me.”

“I do.  I remember looking at those pretty eyes, Baizen.  You needed me, and I needed you.  Our adult children’s problems are so much worse than our babies.”

“You can’t compare our sons to our daughters.  Otto is thirty.”

“And won’t leave the Hampton house.”

“Shh, just hold me for a minute.  I don’t want to talk about our two sons that never come home.  At least Otto calls.  Brookie…Carter I just got a bad feeling about all that.  He’s up there alone since Annie broke up with him, and…” Carter shushes his wife, and pulls her in closer.  There was nothing they could do about the breakup, or Otto’s resistance to home.  The only thing he could do was hold her right now, and that’s what he wanted to do for the rest of the night.

“Come on, I know two little princesses that are going to be rolled all around that bed.”

——

You pace back and forth in the studio, wondering if it was going to be a good idea to have the little class when the practice room is getting some upgrades.  An alum of the studio had volunteered her son to renovate the space, all for lessons for his daughters.  The Baizen’s.  You had heard about them throughout most of your life.  Boston royalty with enough kids to make a baseball team.  

With a clearing of your mother’s throat, you look towards the door to what you assumed was the grandmother, and two of the cutest little girls, “I’m Story,” she holds her hand out to you, while the toddler in her arms had her fingers crossed, and touches each side of her nose, “And this is Rosie.  She’s non-verbal, but she’s really good at signing, aren’t you, baby?” With a sweet dimpled smile, she nods her head.

“And this is Veda,” the little girl didn’t want to come from behind her grandmother’s leg, but she peeks out from behind it.  “She’s only a little shy.”

“My daddy is going to be here the whole time?”

Looking up at the grandmother, you squat down to the little girl’s level, “Is your daddy the one that’s working on the studio?” She gives you a little nod, using her pointer finger to rub over her nose, “I bet if you listen, you can hear him working.  You see this mirror?  On the other side is another room, your daddy is over there.”

“So if I want him, I can go get him.”

“I hope you have so much fun you won’t even think about him,” she gives you a scowl, and looks up at her grandmother.  “But sure, if you really get to missing him, we can go get him.  But since you and Rosie are here in your leotards, why don’t we go to the barre and warmup.  It’s just us during this class, okay?”

Looking up at Story, Veda drops her hand, and Story puts Rosie down on the ground, and they follow you over to the barre.  You mother and her walk out, and you spend your time teaching them positions.  Getting Veda completely distracted until she hears the hammering.  “Can we go check, just real quick?  I wanna make sure that’s my daddy.”

“We can take a three minute break to check,” Rosie looks up at you with her pouting blue eyes, making grabby hands at you, until you pick her up.  Heading towards the door, Veda grabs your hand in her own, and follows you in the room.  “Remember, it won’t be safe for us to walk in, so we have to stay at the door.

“Okay,” she was an adorable little girl.  Her demeanor had changed when she realized she was going to see her daddy.  Bouncing in her step, and when she spots him, she squeals, “Daddy!  I just had to check and see if it was really you.”

You gulp as the man walks closer to you.  He was huge, tall, and handsome, and had a dangerous smile.  “Hello, my darlings. Have you been doing the toe pointing like Gaga?”

“And the hands.  Daddy, this is teacher.”

“I’m sure it is,” you try to look away, but he had those piercing blue eyes just like the little girls.  He had no right to look this handsome, and you felt guilty for clinging to his daughters, while you were checking him out.  “Daddy has a lot of work to do, so go back with teacher.  When I’m done we’ll go home, okay?”

“Can we get Biscoffs?”

“Yes.  Now, behave Veda.  Muah,” he gives Rosie a kiss, before leaning down to give one to Veda.  He smelled too good.  Way too good, and too expensive.  He had two kids.  He had baggage.  You had no business looking at him.  Or even worrying about who he was.  You were too young for a baby, much less two children, and yet, you wanted to know all about this man.  “Teacher, they’re all yours now.”

“Right,” he smiles at you, and even he had a dimple.  You needed to get back into the room.  “Okay, ladies.  Let’s go back, and do some dancing.”

“Thank you, teacher!” He calls to you as you walk away.  Don’t look at him.  Don't mention that he wasn’t wearing a ring.  Don’t do anything but get back into the studio.  You couldn’t look at him anymore.  But when you looked at his little girls, you saw his exact eyes staring back at you.  Someone in this family really spread the love with their genes.  Shaking your head, you get back into first position.  There was nothing some ballet couldn’t take your mind off the tall thick man.  

“Alright, ladies, back to work,” both girls giggle at you as they try to copy your movements.  It was sad that you had to tell yourself the exact same things.  Back to work.  Put the man out of your mind.  Back to work.

Next

Masterlist

[swanqueensalad]

heyo, i just spent an extended amount of time scrolling through your headcanon posts. with that in mind— do you think you could explore emma and regina’s bad habits? keep up the great work ❤️❤️

thank you for the scrolling bestie and for the ask, i do appreciate it. these are my favourite kinds of posts to make so of course i will oblige and as always, get carried tf away <3

usually tws apply 

as far as bad habits go, i think they both have quite a lot - our girls have both Been Thru It TM and would naturally have picked up many coping habits along the way. they are also both Very Annoying

let's start with emma, who i think has more in what we would think of as a stereotypical way

first of all, ik we all joke about fanon Messy Emma, but emma swan is a gross gremlin girl for real and i actually love that for her. if left unchecked, she will eat chips and dip in bed and gets crumbs everywhere and never brush them off. she will leave All her clothes on the floor until she physically can't move past them. she will let a slice of pizza rot in the box on her kitchen side for a month.

and no wonder, when she's spent most of her life living alone with nobody else to care about or hold her accountable. the sad truth is, emma has never felt like she's had a Home before so she's never had a reason to keep all those cold, empty apartments tidy.

when she starts taking responsibility for henry, she immediately becomes really aware of this and determined to be better and she does, and so by the time she moves in with regina she is way better, but will still leave clothes lying around and old food out here and there (this actually Counters regina's obsessive tidying and somehow they find a middle ground, but we will get to that later...)

emma is not a nail biter, but she's a nail picker. girl will find a strip of raw skin on her finger and Peel. this is more of an anxiety/anger related thing, and she's working on it now.

emma's sleep schedule also... bro... like the mess, she's way better when she lives with henry and regina because these are people she loves with whom she naturally falls into a healthier routine, and she has a job she loves too that she's actually excited to get to work on time for - but most of her life, she's had no concept of time or sleep.

she will stay up til 6am and wake up at 4pm or anything within that boundary. pot noodles for breakfast. cereal for dinner. and again, it's because she's never felt like she's had a 'normal' family, life or routine, it's just never been a part of the way her brain works

(regina loves cooking though and part of her love language is definitely making sure her loved ones have good meals, so these days are long over for emma, unless she genuinely wants a pot noodle for old times sake. now days, she never even leaves for work without a lunch packed lovingly for her by her wife, often with a note or flower enchanted not to wilt. sometimes if regina is out early she'll even leave emma and henry breakfast too)

regina is almost the exact opposite - she is obsessively neat to a fault and will get very touchy about a sock being left on the floor. she will get up from watching a movie because she noticed crumbs on the side and had to clean it up. (because cora left her terrified of ever making a mess or showing a face less than 'perfect')

both of these 'bad habits' eventually slightly neutralise each other, to the point regina can still relax despite leaving the dishwasher for an evening, and emma can make the bed after herself in the mornings because hey, it does only take a few seconds, and it does feel better to come home to.

and besides, they are both trying to set a good example for henry, which leads to them setting better standards for themselves easily, naturally. (emma and regina healing their inner children by raising their child is TOO MUCH for me i'm dead bye)

regina also has bad sleep habits but more in an overthinking/will get a sudden thought and end up knee deep in google tabs for three hours kind of way. emma often has to (gently) remove the phone from her, turn it off and leave it on her side of the bed, before cuddling into her and holding her close til she falls asleep.

regina is an overplanner. she will stress herself out and get snappy about to do lists for to do lists and stuff she is only ever holding herself accountable for. she will also Never know when to rest or leave her work alone until emma can see the frown lines appear and see she's getting a headache and very gently remove her from her desk, get her some wine or water, make sure she's eaten, run her a bath etc. regina is very grateful for this - it's the opposite of everything she was ever taught but damn it, emma does know best sometimes.

(i’ve talked about this before but i have always headcanoned regina as having struggles with disordered eating, and occasionally when she’s super stressed she will fall back into harmful habits, but emma is very on top of noticing the signs for this and helping her not listen to those urges or engage in those habits when necessary)

regina also has a very short fuse still with people she doesn’t know very well or trust, but she’s working on it and she’s getting there! (she’s doing yoga and meditation now but she’s lowkey embarrassed about it and emma is not allowed to tell anyone)

regina actually did bite her nails when she was younger, and she still gets that urge sometimes but usually stops herself before it gets anywhere, because cora punished her every time she caught her doing so

both of them of course have also had the bad habit of snapping at people when they feel uncomfortable rather than being honest, shoving down their own feelings, ignoring their own pain, lashing out and getting defensive, but they have also both worked on those things so much over the course of the years and help each other so much too. our girls learned to communicate and together they find it is easier than they ever thought it could be <3

[lostneedcoopcake]

Letter To Lincoln

This is an entry for a horror challenge where the prompt was “mimic”. Enjoy!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

12th of March, 1988

Dear Lincoln,

 Some weeks ago, you sent me a letter, asking me about my family and the situation overseas. Well, my response to your letter is quite simple; I wish I knew. I really wish I knew. All I know is that there are some people among us that are not human. But, they are very good with taking the form of one. Indistinguishable from some of our folk, actually. I wish I knew what they want with us or, more importantly, with our children. Allow me to explain, dear Lincoln.

A week after you sent me the letter, Mrs. Abigail came to me, shouting. As I opened my house’s door at six in the morning, she fell down and grabbed me by my knees, pulling them. I tried to stay calm and asked her what was wrong. She told me her husband had been acting weird as of lately and, on top of that, there are times she loses her child, a cheerful daughter. Now, her husband was a good man, but they had divorced because of some issues with her family. But he was clean, not causing any trouble at all. No matter the case, I asked her if she was suspecting her husband was behind it and she simply disagreed. Mr. Abigail would never take their daughter out without her permission. So, without thinking of it as much, I called my cousin, who is a cop, and went to investigate.

Mr. Abigail was standing at the living room, holding their sleeping daughter in his hands. He was hypnotically moving left and right, singing a lullaby I had never heard of before. He looked at us, but with his eyes always on their daughter. Hie eyes looked like the Devil had taken them and got replaced with mere buttons, made only to look at the child. I looked at my cousin and tipped my hat to Mr. Abigail. I greeted him and asked him how was his day with my usual, cheerful voice. His wife was almost hiding behind us as my cousin tipped his hat too. Mr. Abigail smiled and answered us in a monotonous, yet cheerful voice. I felt chills on my spine then, Mr. Lincoln. Their daughter was still asleep, although she wakes up quite easily. I remember a bird passing through their house, croaking, and the little lady woke up and started shouting at it in the night. So it was a wonder she was asleep with two strangers visiting.

 We sat down and discussed a bunch of stuff about life and such while Mrs. Abigail served us tea. Mr. Abigail, although he had that weird tone in his voice at all times, seemed to have his memories intact, talking to us like it was any other day. But, when Mrs. Abigail sat next to him, I could see her cowering in her seat, her legs inching closer and closer to each other as every moment passed. It was not long until she told me she wanted to ask me something personally, not before asking her husband. He agreed and we went a bit further in the house, inside the kitchen. Mrs. Abigail pointed at a box of pills on the counter. I picked them up. Pills for hypertension, completely untouched. I am aware Mrs. Abigail is a very healthy woman, so why would she need them, I asked myself. But the answer soon came from herself; Mr. Abigail has issues with his heart. Without taking a pill every day, he would die. So, she traveled to the city to buy him some. But, since he came, he touched them not. So, it could not be him. Perhaps a ghost? But we could all touch him and he could be with us. A demon, perhaps? No matter what it was, it was not Mr. Abigail and, if he still existed somewhere out there, he would be dead by now. It had been five days since the occurrence. What Mrs. Abigail cared about most was her daughter. I deeply took her concerns into my heart, Lincoln. I have a child too, I understood that lady.

When we came back, my cousin started making jokes about me and Mrs. Abigail being together – although we all know I am in a loving relationship with my wife and I wouldn’t change her for the world – and, as I sat, he whispered to me that Mrs. Abigail was surely insane and still angry over her husband leaving her, hence why she called us to arrest him. He told me not to trust a single word that was coming out of that woman’s mouth. But her expression spoke more than her words; as the demon’s eyes were constantly on her daughter, she was also looking at her too, ready to snatch her from the devil’s arms. She often looked at me too, waiting for me. She sighed of relief when I told Mr. Abigail to go somewhere he liked together. But her worries rose up again when he wouldn’t leave her child, no matter my or the mother’s pleas. He argued that little Sophie would like some fresh air, and, asleep as she still was, couldn’t say no. With a heavy heart, I agreed. Before closing the door behind me, I saw my cousin groaning and leaning on the couch and, before closing the door, I swear I heard him flirting with her. What a disgrace!

 The weather looked like it was about to start raining as we two, Mr. Abigail holding little Sophie tightly, started walking towards the forest. I could feel the humidity going up my neck, further making me feel an unsettling cold going through my entire body. But the demon looked like it was completely unbothered. I held my gun, which was still in my pouch, but I did not pull it up. But I had to be prepared for anything. Not wasting any time, I asked him where was Mr. Abigail. He started talking to me about how Mrs. Abigail did not truly care for him and what happened to him was for the best. I stopped there, just when the rain started pouring down. The demon wanted to pull me inside the forest, in whatever hideout it had. The demon kept looking at me and, after so much time, it smiled at me. I pulled my gun out in an instant and pointed it at the demon. Little Sophie would be scared and traumatized, seeing her father dead, no matter how much it was not her father. I asked it what did it want from the family.

“The child needs to be safe. Isn’t this what you want? It will all be better.”

 More like the demon started coming out the woods, Lincoln, and I swear to God I have not been more shocked in my life than when I saw the faces of my fellow townspeople coming towards me, circling me. I should had listened to Mrs. Ferrn about her son’s disappearance. She told me her husband had gone to find him, so I dismissed it. And Mr. Ferrn was behind me. Mr. Instburg had told me his wife had not returned home with their two children, the police completely dismissed it. And there she was, standing next to me. I started thinking whether the officers were into this too. The demons slowly closed the circle I was in and I dropped my gun out of shock. It splashed on the wet mud, I and it being the only tings affected by the rain. They threatened me, Lincoln. They told me they would take care of my child, too. I pleaded them to let me keep my child. I fell down to my knees as they were in breathing distance. They grabbed me by my shirt and ripped it out before Mrs. Instburg took out a knife and ran it through my spine. I screamed and yelled in tears, Lincoln. The pain was insufferable. They took my blood and applied it on their skins while keeping some. They told me they would let me keep my child, as long as I told no one. I agreed, barely being able to hear my own voice.

 I woke up in a hospital. I thought I died there, Lincoln. But, the nurses told me that a hunter, who was coming home after a successful hunt, found me lying outside the forest and took care of me until help came. I asked them how was my child, they did not know. He’s fine, if you’re wondering. After healing, I went back home. Some of the demons had returned home, greeted by the families, although sad that they could not have their children back. They often pass outside my home and wave at me. I wave back. Always. But I couldn’t not tell anyone. Please, Lincoln, hold this letter tight to your heart. Because these things are not demons, but demons is the best way I can describe them.

With Consideration,

George Wills

[ghostlandtoo]

Driveway by Richard Siken published in TriQuarterly

My brother flew out because the third wife was dying. I picked him up at the airport and drove him to the bottom of the driveway, like always. I had not driven onto the property in several years. Sometimes, when I arrived to pick him up for his return to the airport, the third wife would stand at the top of the driveway and wave. I would reluctantly wave back. It’s serious. He had never said that before. I went inside. Our father was sitting at the breakfast bar, by the phone. He exchanged greetings with my brother but we ignored each other. As he was explaining her condition the phone rang. She was dead. It was abrupt. He was stunned. Who will take care of me now? I cleaned the kitchen and took out the trash. I made a grocery list. I started the laundry. My brother sat with our father. It was late. I realized I was going to spend the night. I slept in the third bedroom with the door cracked. My father likes it when the door is cracked. He likes to peek in to make sure no one’s conspiring or eavesdropping. In the morning, I ran errands while my brother and father sat together making calls. I cut the bagels in thirds, the way he liked them. I cut the onions and tomatoes thin. It was becoming clear that when my brother returned to New York, I would end up managing our father and the estate I had been disinherited from. After dinner he went straight to bed. My brother and I stayed up, drinking. After a glass or two, we decided to poke around. It was pretty much what we expected. We got into the file cabinets and they were pretty much what we expected. We found the will. If the third wife died, my brother would get everything, as expected. There was a section that we didn’t understand at first: Children conceived outside of marriage shall make no claim against the estate. It seemed obvious: likely there was a third son. Turns out, there was.

[raspberryconverse]

Not that anyone's noticed that I've been MIA or cares, but here's where I've been/why I hate myself today:

So the latest Firefox update started doing this new thing where it closes tabs in the background and then reloads them when you click back over to them, causing my Tumblr tab to lose my place in my feed (because I wanted to scroll to where I last read because FOMO or something else stupid my brain wants to do that I can't explain). It also was crashing like crazy, so I reverted back to the previous version, but didn't realize it was going to knock out all my bookmarks, etc since I had to switch to Firefox because my computer is still fucked up and my preferred browser (Brave) still won't work (along with a million Windows related things) because ubreakifix fucked up my computer when my hard drive failed. I really just need to do a clean install of Windows (because whatever ubreakifix installed was corrupted), but I've been too lazy/depressed to take the time to do it. It's been months of suffering with a corrupted install of Windows because I literally just can't get myself to do the thing I need to do so my computer works like it's supposed to and I can use a better browser.

Also, I got into yet another fight with my spouse because they want to buy contact paper to recover our kitchen countertops and I offended them by saying I hate our kitchen and literally DGAF what they do to it because I'm not really going to be happy with it until we can afford to redo it properly. Apparently this was an insult to my spouse (as opposed to maybe the original owners of the house because they're the ones who decided to cover the entire kitchen— like all the walls and the fucking ceiling— in an ugly ceramic tile) because they've been working so hard on scraping all the paint off the cabinets (which are now an ugly army green and I already told them I didn't like it any better than the white, even though it was peeling because they clearly used the wrong paint to paint them). So basically I'm a horrible person/wife.

If you're still reading and worried about me, I have therapy again on Wednesday (although I don't think I'm going to do my homework because I really don't feel like writing a letter to my dead mother and don't see how that's going to help) and I see my psychiatric NP on Monday. I had a shit ton of bloodwork done yesterday (we're talking like 5 vials and a urine test) because she wants to see if there are other underlying reasons for my depression/anxiety before we looking into adjusting meds. Like I know this shit takes time and obviously you can't just stop and start these kinds of meds/expect it to be a fast fix or to even get it right the first time, but I just want to stop feeling like shit. I want to stop having that voice in the back of my head telling me I should have done x today. I want to stop fighting with my spouse. Hell, I'd love for my spouse to fucking kiss me, like really fucking kiss me instead of just a peck goodnight, but I know they won't unless I brush my teeth because autism.

So... don't mind me. I'm just going to watch Nick and Charlie make out a bunch of times before I go to bed because it's the only thing that really brings me joy at the moment.

[bokutoslittlebird]

Request: 😭anyway father in law osamu fucking his sons wife smth like that (im Sharing heile typing this) just imagine him taking u everywhere around the house and his son not suspecting anything bc ur just helping out his old dad. And even though he is older now he’s still a pussy pleaser with breeder balls

Dilf Osamu hits differently. Also I’m not tagging it as incest but should I? Also sorry this was late, time slipped up on me

Warnings: female genitalia, reader is referred to as “wife”, age gap, infidelity, Osamu’s wife is implied to be out of the picture/dead, sexism (brief), “traditional roles”, alcohol mentioned, creampie, degradation, overstimulation

Father-in-Law Osamu

Coming up to the older Miya household was always hassle, being forced to handle your mother-in-law who happened to never see her son in a bad light and trying to avoid your father-in-law so you didn’t end up in a conversation you didn’t want to be in. Of course, Osamu was always a better option that his annoyance of a wife, but this visit would be different since she’s out of the picture now. Just a little visit to make sure the older man could take care of himself without a wife to clean up after him, or so your husband said.

In actuality, your husband seemed more than happy to drop you into his father’s lap, leaving you two to chat as he tended to the outdoor chores, of which there were only a couple. Even in the evening, after you served dinner, Osamu helped you clean up and offered to do the dishes, but your husband couldn’t be bothered and took a seat on the couch, putting on a game show. The looks Osamu gave you were ones of pity, but you didn’t even bother, remembering how vicious his wife would get when you mentioned anything remotely bad about her precious son. Osamu wasn’t as bad, but he didn’t do anything either, just sat back and let it happen.

Late night tea always helped you sleep, especially with a cold bed awaiting you. To no one’s surprise, your husband lay on the couch, snoring away and oblivious to the world. Thankfully, Osamu had already turned in for the night, so he didn’t witness your disgusted face when you saw your husband on the couch, a beer held loosely in his hand and another empty bottle on the table. Drank himself to sleep on the couch, again.

“Seems like you’re off on your own, again,” Osamu’s voice said, making you swivel to see the man himself, clad in what you believe to be his sleepwear, leaning against the kitchen doorway. “Seems like you’re fulfilling the role of a mother more than a wife,”

“Oh, please. I’d never be his mother. Could never compare,” you say the last part, bitterly, then apologize, trying to track back. Awfully rude to smear the reputation of his ex-wife, with him right there.

“No, no, don’t worry. I know what you mean. She was furious the day we received notice of the wedding date. She, uh, didn’t let him grow up into a good man, I’m aware,”

“Well, at least someone in this family is aware,” you gave a forced smile, still stirring you tea as steam rises from it. “I should probably drink this and get on to bed. I’m sure he’ll expect breakfast in the morning, after all,”

“Y’know, you don’t have to do all this,”

“I don’t need another argument over not being a proper wife. If my parents weren’t insistent, I’d have filed divorce papers,” you then look at him, then shrug. “Sorry, bit of a harsh note to end on,”

“Well, if you ever need somewhere to get away, come on down. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind you helping out his old man and you can sit down all day, I won’t mind,”

“Hm, I might have to take you up on that offer,” you gave him another smile, one that wasn’t forced as he let you pass.

That one offer changed your life. You didn’t even need to think of divorce when your thoughts were only full of spending time with Osamu. The first time you visited alone, you expected him to actually want you working, but he actually made you food and did the dishes himself, letting you make yourself at home. After a couple more visits, you couldn’t help but realize you felt more comfortable around him than you expected, but it was welcomed in your miserable life. You don’t know why you ended up spilling your guts one night, complaining that your husband often went to a nearby bar at night, leaving you unsatisfied and then he’d come home smelling like alcohol and fruity perfume, but you were just tired of dealing with the same old bullshit. You were an unsatisfied wife and Osamu was a lonely man, it seemed almost natural for you two to end up tangled beneath the sheets.

Although, you hardly ever started in the bed or even in the bedroom.

“Such a pretty thing my son has, yet he’s too stupid to realize it,” Osamu grunts right beside your ear, all while he drills his cock into you. His grip on your hips might be bruising, but you’d never tell him to stop, not when he’s putting stars in your vision with each hard thrust he assaults you with. Each drag of his cock against your walls makes your wails and cries even louder, fingers digging into his shoulders as that’s the only thing keeping you grounded. At this point, he’ll end up breaking the couch and need to get a new one if his thrusts don’t cease in ferocity. “Dumb little thing, can’t even think straight,”

“No, no, no,” you blabber, throwing your head back as he rubs against that sweet spot deep inside you that has your eyes rolling. Clenching around him, he just chuckles as one hand leaves your hip, going between your legs to rub at your clit. Even the briefest of touches has your legs shaking, back arching as you grit your teeth from another onslaught of spine tingling pleasure. Drool spills from your lips as you open your mouth, trying to say something and ending up with nothing, just more high pitched moans.

Even as the table buzzes, your phone lighting up with your husband’s name, you’re oblivious as you ride your high on Osamu’s cock, completely locking your legs around his waist as he keep his hips moving, making sure you’re not denied a single second of pleasure. He doesn’t need to ask where you want his cum, you always want it pumped inside of you after you felt what it was like for the first time. Painting your walls white once more, he makes sure to go as deep as he can, bringing your face forward as he gives you a deep kiss, your phone finally going silent.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good, you won’t even think about leaving,” he whispers, but he knows you’re not planning on going anywhere anytime soon, not with 20 missed calls from your husband and his cum gushing from the sides of your abused cunt.

[erodasfishtacos]

Is this seat empty? " Yes and this one will be too if you sit down" , "Don't be like that my love."

For MLB!Harry first stupid fight in a relationship 😂

Okay this turned into something entirely different then the prompt. Sorry anon 😂

—

Peace & Quiet (Please)

If you enjoy please like, reblog, comment, or come talk to me!

I write for free so if you enjoy my work please consider donating to my kofi page.

-

“Where d’you put m’protein mix?” Harry asks, padding into the kitchen and opening every single fucking cabinet.

“It’s in the same place it’s been for the past five years,” YN bites out with a slight irritation, mixing the pancake batter a little rougher.

She’s been up since three in the morning and Harry sauntered in around six-thirty after coming home late from a baseball game last night.

All the babies still asleep.

“Ah - fuck,” Her husband huffs when he spills the powder all over the countertop and floor she had just swiffered ten minutes ago.

When he goes to open the other cabinet and grab for a shaker bottle - they all come tumbling out onto the floor in a loud clash.

“Could you be any louder? You going to wake up the kids!” YN scolds harshly, pointing to the closet, “Go get the swiffer.”

He obliges - surprised by her attitude, grabbing it and slapping it (by accident) on the ground like a fucking baseball bat, the head of the mop snapping off and breaking.

“S’broken,” Harry states the obvious, shrugging and going about peeling a banana before leaving the peel near the sink.

YN turns to face him, voice irritated, “I’m about to break you, just like you broke the swiffer.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” He asks cheekily but her glare tells him there is no amusement to be had this morning.

“I just spent all morning cleaning and you’ve made this place a disaster already!” His wife bites before flipping one of the pancakes.

Harry dejectedly cleans up his protein mix mess, neatly places the shake bottles into the right place, throws away the peel, and closes all the cabinets.

“M’sorry,” He murmurs, coming up behind her and kisses the nape of her neck, “Y’seem a bit cranky this mornin’.”

And man. He should have not said that.

“Do you have a baby who needs to fucking feed from your body every hour even during the night? I don’t think so,” She mutters, shaking him off of her.

“Hey, mama. M’bein’ an ass, what can I do to help?” He changes gears, choosing to stand next to her since she didn’t seem to want to be touch.

“Breastfeed - let your nipples feel like their constantly on fire and about to fall off. Make all this post-partum bleeding stop. Let me sleep for a day straight. I don’t know,” YN begins to sniffles, plating a few mini pancakes.

He’s taken aback, eyebrows furrowing in concern, and he leans forward to flip off the stovetop, “Can I touch you?”

She nods, wiping her eyes, and allows him to haul her up into their marble countertop, “Mama, y’need to tell me when y’feeling overwhelmed? Please baby. I’ve asked you a million times to wake me up and I can bottle feed her.”

“No, she…I have to feed her. It helps bonding and it-“

Harry interrupts firmly, “She will be perfectly fine being fed by a bottle a few times a day. You’re putting too much stress on yourself.”

Her head falls on his shoulder and she mumbles, “I just feel so…gross, not attractive at all.”

He pulls her back, searching her face in confusion, “Baby, why would you ever say somethin’ like that?”

YN let’s out a quiet sob, “My nipples are chafed and sore, I’m constantly bleeding, my belly hasn’t deflated -“

Harry can’t help but lean in and connect their lips harshly, he’s pulling her loose shirt up and over her head.

“Harry, what-“

“Listen t’me,” Harry rasps seriously, his hands are tender and careful as they cup her swollen breasts - thumbing at her painful nubs.

“I’m literally obsessed w’your tits, baby. They’ll go back to normal after y’done feeding and even if they don’t - I love them just as fucking much. You fed our three healthy strong boys and now you’re makin’ sure our chunky little girl is eating good.”

Then he hands move to cup her belly, large hands splayed over the still softening, firm bump from where Briar had been housed for nine months.

“Y’gave me four, four fuckin’ babies from this belly. I’m fucking in love with your body. God, y’thighs, y’tummy, the stretchmarks - fuck, getting me hard just lookin’ at you.”

It was true, he was stiffening up in his shorts but neither of them acknowledged it - it was a love boner more than anything else.

He literally got hard from how much he loved her.

“I’m tired,” She sighs softly, letting Harry tug her shirt back on as the children would be waking up soon to eat breakfast.

“I know, mama,” Harry acknowledges softly, giving her another kiss before taking over the pancake station.

-

When all the boys are downstairs and chomping away on their food, Cash, who is just about four decides it’ll be funny to squirt the sticky syrup all over their expensive stool cushions and the floor.

When YN turns from the sink to see the mess, she admits she snaps a little bit, “Really Harry? You’re supposed to be watching them, not checking the sports news on your phone!”

Harry is about to defend himself but his wife is stomping over to where Cash has emptied the bottle and gives him a firm look, “Cash Edward Styles, get your bum upstairs, right now.”

Cash’s eyes widen, his mother rarely needed to use a harsh tone with them, “Mama, I’m so-“

“If you are not upstairs, by the bathtub this instant, you get no outside time today. Do you understand me?” YN tells him, giving Easton a warning look when he licks at the syrup on his finger.

“Yes mama,” Cash squeaks out sadly, abandoning his plate and walking up towards the bathroom upstairs to get clean.

Easton and Ezra are dead silent as they watch their brother leave - not wanting the same fate as him so they sit proper.

“Sweetheart-“ Harry begins, putting his phone back in his pocket.

“No, I have my hands full taking care of four kids. I don’t need you acting like a fifth. Go bathe your son,” YN tells him coldly, an angry stare directed his way.

Harry clenches his jaw, biting his tongue as he stands up and pushes his chair in with force - making a loud noise before following after his second son.

A few minutes after they’re out of sight, Easton thought it’d be funny to wipe syrup down Ezra’s cheek which made Ezra cry and throw a pancake at his older brother - now soaking him in syrup.

YN starts to leak milk at the sound of Ezra’s cries.

“Easton Robin - get you butt upstairs this instant too. You know better - no outside time today,” She informs him as she uses a wet wipe to clean Ezra’s cheek.

“Mama,” Easton whines, fat tears starting roll down his cheeks as he stands up, loitering by the kitchen stool.

“Do not make me repeat myself,” YN warns, swiping a paper towel over the wet spot on her shirt from the leak.

-

Harry had just started washing up Cash who was still melancholy when his blubbering older one comes in - still tearful.

He sighs, looking at his syrupy son, “Wha’ happened?”

Easton looks hesitant, “I put syrup on Ezzie and mama said no outside time today.”

His father is tight-lipped, he can already predict that Easton’s actions upset Ezra, “Alright, c’mon. Let’s clean y’up too. Y’know better, Easton.”

-

Harry had just finished helping both boys dress when YN appears in the doorway with Ezra who has a binkie popped in his mouth.

She steps over and hands their son to Harry before muttering, “I’m going to feed Briar, keep the boys out of the room. I need some peace.”

YN disappears from the room before he can even reply to her.

-

Harry can admit he gets distracted when one of his coaches calls him up for a game change, doesn’t notice when Cash sneaks from the playroom.

It’s less than five minutes later when YN leads Cash gently by the hand back into the playroom, with Briar still latched and feeding.

When she sees Harry on his phone, she’s fucking livid with him.

“Really Harry?” His wife scoffs, guiding Cash to join Easton in where he’s playing with legos.

“I’ll call you back,” Harry replies to his coach before hanging up, “Sorry, it was Donny-“

“Good to know your job is more important than watching your kids,” She spits out before storming back out of the room.

Harry is up and following behind her, jaw clenched and irritated, “Just ‘cause you’re in a pissy mood doesn’t mean that y’say shit like that.”

She turns on her heel, eyes fiery, “You have no god damn consideration. You’ve been swamped this week because of your nike promotion and games. I’ve had the babies all by myself for four nights while you get to gallivant around!”

Harry goes to speak but she puts her free hand up.

“I ask for you to keep our house clean and to let me have one moment of peace with our daughter but you don’t even let me have that! You do not understand how hard it is to push a baby out of you and then have them rely on you to feed them twenty times a day!”

His anger fades when his wife starts sobbing - chest shuddering sobs, “I just had her four weeks ago. I-I haven’t had a break yet. You act like it’s so easy!”

He starts to walk towards her, “Sweetheart-“

YN shakes her head, a desperate plea in her tone, “Please just give me time with Briar.”

Harry swallows harshly and nods - feeling like shit as his wife walks back towards the stairs - all the while still feeding their daughter.

-

“Hello?”

“Mum, I-can you take the boys for the night?” Harry asks quietly, standing in the kitchen while the two older boys are still playing quietly.

Ezra’s passed out, on Harry’s hip with his little face smushed against the cap of his shoulder with parted lips.

“Dear, is everything okay?” She replies cautiously.

“No, I-I don’t know. YN is overwhelmed and I don’t think I’ve been supportive enough,” Harry feels himself begin to sniffle.

Anne doesn’t pry for information which Harry loves about her, she agrees to take them, and states she’ll be over within the hour.

Harry goes about packing their pajamas and other necessities in their little backpacks as the squeal excitedly about going to Nana’s.

“Can we say bye to mama?” Easton asks anxiously as they clear out of their bedrooms.

“Let me go ask,” He murmurs, running a hand through his son’s curls.

When he cracks open the door, YN is sprawled out on her back, fast asleep with Briar also asleep in the bassinet next to the bed.

His heart aches because her shirt is off, and the remnants of her nipple cream which was a pinkish orange color wasn’t fully rubbed in on her bruised breasts.

Harry guides them downstairs, promising that their mama will call them later.

-

After the boys leave, Harry doesn’t know what to do so he cleans whatever he finds that is dirty or messy so she won’t have to.

He does all the laundry in the house, cleans up every single toy, and when Briar starts to whimper - he sneaks in to snatch her up so she doesn’t wake YN.

Then he takes her out to the shops with him to grab groceries, her favorite snacks, and maybe he does stop by a jewelry store and buy her something nice.

(casually a pair of 20k earrings)

YN fell asleep around eighty-thirty in the morning and doesn’t wake up until about nine at night, Harry had put Briar in her nursery about an hour ago.

When she does awake, Harry is sitting in the living room - watching a stupid action movie to pass time and dwell on everything.

She comes in quietly, stands in front of her husband who looks up at her with anxious eyes - she looks brighter now that she’s had adequate sleep.

“Will you hold me?” She rasps quietly, just in one of Harry’s shirts and soft pair of sleep shorts.

“Never haven t’ask, mama,” He murmurs, guiding her until she’s straddling his lap and burying her face into the crook of his neck.

His hands sneak beneath her shirt to massage the sleep-warm skin as he kisses her shoulder - over and over again.

“I’m so sorry,” YN whispers into his skin, voice croaky as she tries to not get upset.

He pulls her back to study her face, “Do not apologize, y’allowed to get mad at me and feel frustrated. You’re emotions are valid. There’s a lot going on and I could be doing more to help.”

YN wipes a tear that trickles down as she laughs in disbelief, “No, you can’t do anymore to help.”

“Wha-? I can, I promis-“

She interrupts his with a kiss before telling him sincerely, “You can’t do anymore help because you’re already doing the most amazing job. As a husband and dad. I was just tired and stressed - it’s not an excuse.”

It warms his heart, he fucking loves her so much it does make sense, has to button their lips together one more time.

“You have a really hard job too, on top of being a husband and dad. You give us all this, support us and take care of us.”

“Are y’kidding me? Y’the one who keeps this family together. Y’the fuckin’ love of my life, you know that? I love you so much, so so much,” He emphasizes, rubbing a thumb across her bottom lip.

The kiss one more time - the anger was subsided and they were okay once again.

Harry laughs and agree when YN murmurs, “S’time for bed again, m’tired.”

“Okay mama, anythin’ for you,” He responds before peppering her in kisses to make her giggle lightly.