#get you a friend who sleeps with your husband but then helps you dispose of his body after you snap and murder him

[niuxita21]

Finally finished Las Pelotaris and went on the tag and OMG I can't fucking beLIEVE that yet again there is not a single gifset of Chelo and her pretty pretty face even though her character had the best denouement out of all of them by actually being allowed to kill her abusive fuckwad of a husband and watch as his body was eaten by pigs (queen shit). I also can't believe the level of simping over Itzi with a woman who apparently loved her SoOOOooOO much that she easily believed she killed her husband just from a signature on a typewritten confession. Ugh I'm so mad at this show like it started off so good then was utterly terrible in the middle and the finale was actually enjoyable (if majorly stressful) because for the first time all season the three lead characters (+ Rosa, the true MVP of this show) were in the same country and interacting with each other. I will always be a sucker for scenes of female bonding over killing/disposing of trash men or helping each other do it. I also can't believe that the prospect of a season 2, no matter how grim it is, does not entirely displease me because at least the four of them would be all together and I would really enjoy watching them deal with this new shitty situation. But alas, I highly doubt there will be a second season, and if there is, they'd find a way to ruin it the same way they mishandled everything after episode 3 give or take. And I would have to continue watching Itzi pine over a woman who chose to believe the worst of her. Itzi, mi amor, love yourself!!!!!!

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙋𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝙊𝙉𝙀: 𝘈𝘕𝘠𝘛𝘏𝘐𝘕𝘎

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: on top of drowning from perpetual guilt, you see spencer for the first time in five years.

word count: 2697

warnings: withdrawal, vomiting, mentions of the reader drinking herself to sleep, feelings of loneliness, talks of brain cancer, hurt/comfort, and finally some fluff!

a/n: GUYS I WAS SO EXCITED TO WRITE THE CHAPTER!! as the story progresses i already have a loose idea of what i want to do, so there'll be a mix of flashbacks and the reader fixing the relationship between her, her mom, and spencer. i was unsure on how i wanted them to meet again at first, but i think i picked a good way ;] they're such awkward losers in this lord i love them already.

masterlist | series masterlist | AO3

Sleep doesn’t come easy.

There were numerous things keeping you awake, but the main one was the cravings. Many nights in New York were spent drinking yourself to sleep, alcohol acting as your pacifier to curve the perpetual loneliness.

It wasn’t like your life then was bad; you had a loving fiancee who made sure you never had to work a day in your life, a nice apartment overlooking the Brooklyn Bridge, and even your own at home art studio. It had everything you could have wanted and yet nothing at all.

Nothing felt the same.

Your fiancee, Luke, often worked late, leaving early in the morning and coming back late into the night. The apartment was grand, yes, but it was big and lonely and had too much space. You had no friends, no incentive to go outside.

You didn’t have a job and didn’t go to college, your father was sick when you were in highschool, but his health absolutely fucking plummeted after you graduated. 

It was like one day he was standing over the stove flipping pancakes in the morning, your mom and you laughing at something he said because he was just that kind of guy. One moment he was making you smile so hard that your cheeks hurt, and then the next… he was… he was a shell of himself.

He couldn’t walk or even move without you and your mom’s help; he couldn’t eat or talk. The brain cancer was moving too fast for you to react, because all of a sudden you were giving a speech at his funeral and purchasing a one way ticket to the Big Apple.

Tears burned at the back of your eyelids and you pressed the heel of your palms into them.

You ran. You fucking ran and left your mom to mourn her husband alone. You left Spencer to deal with his struggling mother by himself.

Guilt, guilt, guilt.

The two most important people in your life needed you and you left like the coward you were. You chose fear over love and cracked under the pressure, the grief. Now, you have no one.

You shot up in bed.

Fuck, you were going to be sick.

You were quick on your feet, slamming open the bathroom door across the hall and falling to your feet before the porcelain.

The vomit exits you in waves, and it burns and tastes disgusting.

You have no idea when your mom had come inside or even woken up, but there was the sound of running water before a cool, wet towelette was pressed to the heated skin of your neck.

“Mom…” Your voice cracked. “Fuck – I didn’t mean to wake you up.” She just shook her head with a wobbly smile, rubbing your shoulders and back comfortingly.

“You’re okay.” She cooed, just like she had done when you scraped your knee falling off your first bike. You sniffled weakly, the feeling of being so small and so young was overwhelming.

“Let’s get up, yeah?” She questions quietly. All you could do was nod, fearing that if you opened your mouth, you would probably throw up again.

Your mom gently removes the towel, tossing it into the sink basin before flushing the toilet. She guides you up with an arm wrapped around your shoulders. “Here, rinse.” She fills up a disposable mouthwash cup and you take it from her gratefully, swishing it around in your mouth before spitting.

“Let’s go to bed.”

With an arm still around your shoulders, she walks you back to your room whose door is already ajar in your haste.

“God, it’s hot in here.” She grumbles as she sets you down on your bed.

You already start to get comfortable when she cracks open the window next to your bed. The weather had cooled significantly throughout the day. It made you excited for the fall for the first time in a long time.

“Do you need anything else?” She questions with hands on her robe covered hips. “No,” You grunt tiredly, “I’m good.”

She looks unsure for a moment, nibbling on her lip in an old anxious habit before reluctantly nodding. “Alright,” She relents, “But you’ll come get me?” You nod. “Yes, mom.” She looks like she wants to push but she decides against it.

“Okay.” She wants to say something else, like she wants to move, but instead she settles for a, “Good night.”

“Night.”

And just like that, you’re out.

You wake up to the smell of coffee, your face digging into the pillow from where you’re lying on your stomach. You groan, cracking an eye open to face the 9:30 AM on your alarm clock. You don’t remember the last time you were up this early – willingly – at least.

You forgot that your mom was an early riser when you sat up. Fuck, you would actually love some coffee. The taste in your mouth is disgusting.

Seeing your mom positioned over the coffee maker was a welcome memory, the woman often being in charge in that department because she couldn’t cook to save her life.

“Morning sleepy head.” She greets with a soft smile. You feel a pang of guilt at the dark circles under her eyes. “Morning.” You grumble, taking a seat at the small circle dinner table. Your childhood home was quaint and cozy, nothing to write home about, but it was perfect for a family of three.

You lift a questioning brow at the plate of eggs and bacon she brings you, settling a cup of coffee next to it.

“Since when did you know how to make eggs and bacon?” You asked in amusement. “I had to learn eventually.” She jokes, taking a seat next to you with her own plate. “So, if I were to take a bite of these, I won’t get a mouth full of shell?” 

She huffs in faux irritation, “Shush and eat your food.” You just laughed.

Breakfast was nice, but your appetite was small. The withdrawal that you had faced last night was intense, so your stomach still felt kind of sensitive. You appreciate the smaller portions she had given you, like she’d known.

“I have to run some errands.” Your mom begins, “So, I’ll be out for the majority of the day.” You hum in acknowledgement, taking a sip of the creamer mixed liquid. “Cool. I think I’ll just stay here, try to get settled in.”

She sucks her teeth. “Are you sure you don’t want to go out exploring? I don’t want you cooped up in here all day.”

You know she’s just worrying about you, but her words feel like they have a double meaning.

What if I leave you alone and you relapse? What if I’m not here to stop you? What if I can’t put you back together? What if you leave again?

“I swear I’ll be fine here, I promise.” 

She hesitates for a moment before nodding.

You cast a look out to the window next to the front door and you purse your lips.

“Are the Reids still around?” You can’t help but ask. “Oh! You mean Spencer and Diana? I’m surprised you even remember them.” How could you not? “Haven’t really forgotten, just… I haven’t talked to them in a while.”

“Well, Spencer moved Diana into a care facility a year or two ago. I helped him settle during the transition and inevitably sell the house. He lives near his big government job in a well off area. It’s nice and humble.”

You nod, processing her words, but you can’t help the lump in your throat. He moved his mom into a care facility and you weren’t there. Holy fuck you feel like shit. 

“Do you still see him?” You push. She raises a brow at your questioning and a knowing smile starts to tug at the edge of her lips.

“Here and there. He comes to check up on me every now and again; brings me food or helps take care of the yard.” She sighs, “Though the last I heard he’s out of state working a case. Y’know, taking down criminals and saving the world and what not.” She waves the last part away in the air.

So he made it then. 

You remember him talking about becoming a FBI Agent back when you were younger, but he was afraid he couldn’t pass the physical since he’s always been a scrawny thing. You knew he’d find a way, he always did.

“I’m glad.” You say and you’re sure she knows the words that are unspoken. I’m glad you had someone here when I wasn’t.

It’s a strangely comforting feeling, knowing that they were still in contact and that he took care of her; and they said chivalry is dead.

“Me too.”

It took some insistence and reassuring before sending her away to get dressed while you did the dishes. Taking care of the house was so small compared to what she was doing for you, but you were desperate to pay her back somehow.

You milled about, but mostly focused on unpacking and making the space more like you.

You refused to open your old sketchbook, let alone actually draw in it. You opted to shoving it away in a drawer somewhere, out of sight and out of mind.

You took down the old drawings on the walls, but you left your old posters up. It was emptier by the time you were done, but you were sure you’d find out what to put in here. Maybe that’d be something you and your mom could do together.

You were pulled out of your contemplation by a gentle knocking at the door.

Was your mom expecting someone today? 

You didn’t look all that presentable, still in your shirt and pajama shorts from last night. Well, shit.

The one thing you hated about your front door was that there wasn’t a peephole, but from what you could see from the glass window at the top of the door, the man was tall and had a strong head of hair.

“If you’re looking for my mom, she’s not in right –” Your words died on your throat at the sight of Spencer Reid standing there in all his glory.

He was no longer the scrawny twenty-four year old that you once knew him as. Sure he was still lithe, but his features were stronger, and he sprouted up like a beanstalk. His hair was longer and curled around the back of his ears.

“Now.” You finished with wide eyes.

He seemed to be in the same state that you were in, your name leaving his lips in a breathless, disbelieving whisper.

“Hi.” Your words were failing you in the most humiliating way possible. Your greeting seemed to snap him out of his dazed stupor. He repeats your name again, “I – hi, hey! I… when did you come back into town?” He stuttered.

“Uh, yesterday afternoon.” Things were silent for a moment. “Long time no see, yeah?” You question meekly. “Yeah.” You cast a glance behind you. “Shit, where are my manners? Do you wanna come in? It’s too hot to stand out here like this.”

You open the door wider and gesture him inside.

Spencer hesitates for a moment before coming back in, taking in the space like it had changed since the last time he was there now that you were back.

You sit on the couch and gesture to him to do the same. 

He does, but it’s a bit awkward, the man holding onto his messenger bag in his lap like a lifeline, a white-knuckle tight grip on the fabric.

“I… uh. How are you?” You ask unsurely. His eyes flicker up to yours and your heart nearly stops at the deep brown in his irises. Those damn puppy dog eyes, how could you ever forget?

“I’m… I’m doing alright.”

“Cool, cool.” You nod with pursed lips.

“How about you?”

“Ah,” You chuckle. “I’m going. Just trying to figure things out.” He nods this time too.

“You can ask, you know.” You say. “I just – I don’t want to be rude.” You wave him off. “Listen, Spencer. If I was you, I probably wouldn’t even want to talk to me, let alone come inside. It’s been five years. I owe you this much.”

He deflated slightly, fingers reaching to pick at his cuticles. “I’m not mad at you.” He starts. “You should be.”

“But I’m not.”

“Why?”

“Because I missed you.”

The words shot straight through your heart, and you felt nauseous again. There was so much you wanted to say, so much you wanted to apologize for, but it felt like you had run out of time. Would he even forgive you if you said as much?

“I missed you too, Spence.”

The skin of his cheeks flush a pretty pink hue, and you smile.

“You’re still as shy as ever.” You tease and he huffs, “No I’m not.” You laugh, indulging him. “Sure you’re not.” He glares at you playfully and the tension in the room eases significantly.

“I asked my mom about you.” You admit. “You did?” He asks with raised brows. “Yeah. I heard you’re a hot shot FBI agent now.”

He groans at your words, grinning slightly. “If you call mountains of paperwork and pictures of dead bodies being a hot shot, then clearly we have two different definitions.”

“Yeah but you get to save people, you know? I think that’s pretty fucking admirable.”

“I… thank you.”

“I also asked her about your mom. I heard she’s in a facility now. How… How is she? How are you?” You ask carefully. Spencer smiles softly at the question. “She’s good. It took her a while to adjust, but after she learned that they were trying to help her, she eased up on the nurses.”

“I bet she raised hell, huh?”

“Yep,” Spencer chuckles. “It was hard at first, you know? Having to get used to living without her. But I think it’s good for both of us. I’m not always able to be at home full time to take care of her, so knowing that she’s in good hands is comforting.” 

“I could imagine; but Spence, how are you? Seriously.”

“I’m okay. It’s been almost two years since she’s been there and I visit her as often as I can.”

“And my mom too.”

He blushes a deep scarlet. “What?”

“Don’t think I didn’t hear about you taking care of my mom, bringing her food and making sure she’s taking care of herself. I mean – that’s why you’re here now, right? To make sure she’s okay?” You stare deeply into his eyes, trapping him there. “Thank you, seriously. You don’t know how much that means to me.”

“It’s nothing.” Spencer says humbly. “It’s not and you know it. You had no reason to stick around and help her after I left. But you did, and I’m grateful.”

“I told you, ____. I wasn’t angry, and honestly, I’m not angry now even after I’ve seen you. I’m just worried. Why are you back?” 

You gulp, casting your gaze to the floor. “Some shit hit the fan back in New York. I – I’m not ready to talk about it just yet.”

“Hey,” He starts softly and you look up. “That’s fine. Tell me when you’re ready. But you’re… but you’re staying, right?”

“Yeah,” You breathe out. “I’m back.”

“Would,” He gulps and clears his throat. “Would you like to get lunch together tomorrow? I just got back from a case so I have a day off.”

“Oh uh…” No one else knew of your alcoholism besides your mom and Luke, so having to admit it to Spencer felt almost embarrassing. “I have an AA meeting tomorrow, but would dinner work? You know I’ve never been a morning person.”

If Spencer’s shocked at hearing you’re going to an AA meeting tomorrow he doesn’t show it, instead nodding and pursing his lips.

“Dinner sounds great.”

“Great.” You say softly.

For the first time in a long while you felt warm, so unbelievably warm.

“Can’t wait.” You add and he smiles softly.

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[nylwnder]

lake house

a/n: HELLO SWEETIES!!!!! welcome to my first 2024 fic n series! i started it off with ryan cause if you know me, you know he was everything to me for the 4 months we had him. also, HUGE SHOUTOUT to @shoot-the-puck for in a way co-writing this and the others with me i love you so much scoob thank you for being my asylum roomie!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! anyways, enjoy and dont forget to tune in to the other drops <3 mwah!

pairing: ryan o’reilly x fem!reader

warnings: SMUT, its giving soft sex (unprotected), lowkey body worship, lowkey exhibitionism, childhood friends to lovers, use of “snook” and ryan being such husband material. gawdamn.

word count: 1.9k

taglist: @11livpangburn , @domi-max , @boqvistsbabe , @sweetiet , @p1tstop , @occasionallyaurora , @laurenairay, @fallinallincurls

series masterpost

the drive to the lake house was as calming as ever. although it was a couple hours, it was a trip you knew all too well. one you were dying to take every june the minute the last bell rang for summer break.

sometimes it was just you, your parents and your brother. most times, it was you and the o’reilly family. a lot of kids shared between two vans, snacking on chips and freezies from the coolers at the back of the cars.

the tradition never stopped when the lot grew older. you escaped to the house every time your winter term ended, then after your internship finished, and then when you could use up all your saved vacation time from your new job. ryan always followed when his nhl duties came to an end. both respective families coming in to stay in between.

that being said, this was the first time you drove to the lake house with ryan in the driver's seat and with you in the passenger's seat. it was the first summer since he came back home to toronto. but more so, to you. officially.

he was sick of waiting until your usual shared break, and you were very much sick of coming home to a cold bed.

before any headline could find you, ryan called you that night. and it was as if the 100 ton weight was being lifted off of your desperate shoulders. because it was. after ten years of long and needy facetimes, one-night lustful visits, and the best stanley cup celebration you two could possibly have imagined, you were going to have him, at your full disposal, “whenever you fucking want” as ryan had told you.

ryan put the car in park and you couldn’t help but smile about the fact that this would be the first time you’d be stepping into that house, as a proud pair. the “finally” ’s already shed by your parents who were following in behind the two of you.

—

the first night was spent with take out, laughs, pjs and movies and it always makes you grateful for growing up with a group with such a tight knit bond. your heart was full when you heard inside jokes from circa. 2006 running through the house — which are still ever so applicable, presently.

the next day, you didn’t wake until you heard the cars drive off in the late afternoon. it had been a while since you had the time to sleep in, so it seemed your body pranced at the chance. after heading to the bathroom, you couldn’t find ryan in the rooms or common areas. he always made sure you get as much sleep as you need, not only because he knows how grumpy you get if you don’t, but also because he always wants the best for you.

as you made your way to the kitchen, you looked out the windows casing the large lake. you saw the large figure of the man sitting at the edge of the dock and didn’t do anything else but make the walk over to him.

you sat beside him as he turned to face you with a toothless smile. you smiled at it, you always told him he looked cute like that, and he started listening to you. “sleep good, sweetheart?” he asks as he looks down to cut the leaf caps off the pack of strawberries between his legs. “wonderful” you emphasised before you reached for the strawberry he handed you. “i’m glad. you deserve it.”

you took a bite out of the soft strawberry, the juices from the flesh spilling into your mouth. you couldn’t help but let out a little innocent moan. the first time you tried these, they were immediately the best strawberries you have ever had in your entire life. and they just so happen to be locally farmed near the lakehouse.

ryan giggled, “had to stop by the market and buy you a few packs during my run. wouldn’t be a lake house summer without these guys right here.”

“this is why i love you. thank you.”

he only responded by handing you the bigger piece between the two in his hand. you put your head on his shoulder as you two looked out in front of you. the sun was bright but not exhausting, as the wind from the water dismissed the heat.

“the folks went to gather some things for this week's meal plan.”

you hummed a response. but it got you thinking. and so you didn't waste time.

you turned yourself around in order to lay your upper body on ryan’s lap. he placed the knife and strawberries safely aside as he smiled. you gave him a small smile before shutting your eyes for a bit.

you reached for ryan’s hands from his sides. you played with his big and thick fingers for a bit, before taking his hand and placing it on top of your shirt. then you moved his hand under the hem. as you began to move it further up, the material of your shirt wrinkled with your movements and began to expose your skin.

ryan kept his hand in your grip and his eyes firm on you. you kept moving it up, reaching the curves of your boobs. “take it off” you mumbled as he obliged. taking off the tshirt and throwing it on top of the other items he had set aside.

you didn't reach for his hands again. he knows what to do. he always knows, ever since your first kiss.

the sun shined on your supple flesh. his calloused hands moved back to your curves. pushing down your pants a tad, in order to squeeze your love handles. later, his fingers lightly trace up the soft line marks found upon your hips, and the ones on the sides of your breasts.

your cheeks begin to mimic the berry blush as you open your eyes to look at ryan. you loved how comfortable you are to be vulnerable around him. you always felt adored, and safe.

he pulled you up swiftly, allowing your legs to straddle him. your arms naturally wrap around his broad shoulders. you look into his gentle eyes, “i love you, snook.” you lean in for a tender kiss but his hands push your body tight into his. “i love you more, sweetness.” his lips finally meet yours and he envelopes you perfectly. “always have. always will.” he whispers.

his lips meet your cheek as he leaves wet kisses on your jaw and neck. you let soft moans escape your parted lips, your body melting into his figure. ryan often joked that his body was made for you specifically, with the way you fit against him so perfectly.

“gorgeous.” he whispers into your ear as his beard scrapes against you. you bite your lip at his words. one he's been telling you since you grew butterflies in your stomach every time you saw him. “want you snook” you plead, your pussy twitching as his hands squeeze your bust. you grind down on him, and he huffs outs. “just had you yesterday morning, honey.”

“dont play with me, ry. you know i always need you.”

he hums in response. “thats true. i can never say no to my girl.”

he lifts you once again, getting to lay you down on the thin throw ryan had brought out with him. your eyes close again as the sun hits your face, but you feel kisses pressed all over your skin. ryan’s lips trace from your lips to your cheeks down along your jaw, and onto your neck once more. he sheds a few soft nips while he makes sure your panties and shorts are discarded.

its not long before he nips on your nipples, noises escaping your exposed body. your fingers pull down his own shorts and you feel his cock against your skin.

two digits slip smoothly into your damp cunt as ryan cups your face. you bite up a cry. but before you know it, he’s lined up at your entrance and you're pleading for him to move.

you let out a lewd moan as he pushes in. ryan followed with a low groan and you clenched around him immediately, “that’s my sweet girl. so divine.” he says as he gives kisses on the edges of your collarbone.

his thrusts are a blend of slow, long and quick, hard movements. his hands held your hips as he didn't let his lips leave your body. his hair tickles your chin as he gives your breasts some love once again. you felt yourself reaching the goal closer and closer. the all too familiar feeling of your wet walls stretching around ryan’s thick length driving him crazy.

your effect on him was always so strong. right from when you both were young. the minute you got hurt, it broke ryan to see you cry. it was his dire mission to help clean you up or provide you with the necessary pick me up. oftentimes that was bringing you your favourite snack or sometimes a kiss on your cheek was all you needed. when you laughed, ryan laughed. and even when it seemed like ryan and your brother were picking on you, he always made sure to give you a hug later on. he would never hurt you. and he'd never let anyone hurt you. that was for sure.

you were pleased that there were laughs, screams and talk from the surrounding residents that can help drown out your shared sounds. at the same time you couldn't possibly care if they heard either. your mind was far too fuzzy.

“make me cum snook. make me cum all over your cock” you were desperate and needy, i think that was already established. ry smiled at your words, pulling your body up into him once again.

your arms were so tight around him, you stuck to his body like gum on a shoe. he pumped into you as you also began riding his length. the way your body swayed with your hips helped bring ryan even closer to his climax.

your head fell back as you felt the wave of pleasure overcome you. ryan continued your movements for you until your whines dyed down. once you both finished you kept yourself on his lap “don't move, ry. still need you there.” you mumbled.

“till they come back?”

“please.”

a smile appeared on both of your faces. droplets of sweat trickled down his chest and you crushed them with your finger as your head laid on his shoulder. his hands rubbed the sides of your body as his face was cuddled on top of your head. his nose tucked into your thick hair. your smell, your weight, your breathing and your warmth calmed him. his mind never wandered off. he was the most present, the most grounded with you, like this.

“why is it that every time we have sex you’re so quiet?” you asked ryan as you looked up at him. it was a thought you had often so you figured you’d ask. “sometimes you used to make me feel as if i did something wrong…” you said with a little titter.

it was a stupid idea to think about, you knew ryan loved you so much.

he scoffed, “no honey, you could never.” you smiled. “you just take the breath out of my lungs”

you both start laughing. “you’re a pro hockey player and i’m the one who can kill you? i’ll take it.”

ryan lets out a chuckle again. “all i know is words cannot express how i feel when i’m with you, but i want to experience it till my dying days.”

your heart warmed. you grab his face and eagerly kiss him. “and so you will.”

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[triptanite]

Dear Gortash

This one shot is based on the dialogue option that Karlach has when interacting with the ornate mirror!

Option 3: I'd see the Hells filled with flowers, and my old boss Gortash on his hands and knees tending them for eternity.

the companion crew and co all need a shitload of whatever the faerun version of therapy is after saving the world and everything. this is how I imagine Karlach might find a bit of healing within herself

being real, it is a real therapeutic activity to write letters and the like to yourself or others and then to destroy it in some way afterwards. this can be good for venting, or cathartic when you dispose of it afterwards (e.g., ripping, shredding). so if you're feeling a little pent up and need something physical to do, there's an idea for you!

Pairing/s: none

Content warning/s: none

MASTERLIST

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

I didn't have an answer for her then, but I think I would now.

Sometimes, in my dreams, I see you.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Gortash.

The crew and I are sorting ourselves out now that the dust has settled a bit. We're rebuilding things, healing and all that. We also get drunk under the stars and eat our weight in stew but I think that's also helping.

Some of us are working on things like forgiveness, and guilt. Some of us are training, socialising, moving on. All of us are grieving.

I struggled for a bit, thinking of a way to find my closure. I lost so much of my life. I was punished so deeply for a crime I never committed. I was put through the ringer, ripped out, and ran through again. One of my friends suggested that I write you a letter, and I won't lie, I laughed. A letter? What the Hells will that do?

But still, I kept it in the back of my mind. I think it's just in my nature to trust the people I care about. I carried a sheet of parchment and a quill in my pack with me for two weeks straight. Except every time I tried, I had nothing to say.

Then I went to visit my parents. I clean their gravestones and sweep away fallen leaves as often as I can make it. I tell them about my adventures, my health, everything really. I tell them about my nightmares, and my daydreams. There's a merchant at the cemetery who sells flowers out of a tiny cart. She's a widower. I pay her thrice her asking price for blooms to decorate my folks place, and ask her about her day. She was telling me about how she still talks to her husband sometimes, when she sleeps. She knows he's gone, but it brings her peace. She asked me about my dreams, and about my peace. I didn't have an answer for her then, but I think I would now.

Sometimes, in my dreams, I see you.

You're dressed plainly, not an adornment in sight. You're crouched low in the soil, joints aching, hands calloused. The knees of your peasant pants are permanently dust-stained, and there is dirt under your fingernails that you'll never get out.

You water an endless field of flowers of every variety gently, there is no other way you are able to do it. There is no company. No conversation. Just a gentle wind meant to carry the pollen of infinite blooms to each other. Light beams down onto you. You've developed deep crows feet from squinting when you look up to note it's movement - the artificial sun is the only way you can track the time here.

You are quiet. Frowning. You're too exhausted to rage anymore. You tend to the flowers, a stark and lovely contrast to the hells that lie just beyond the field. You can never reach the edge, you can never crush the flowers. They simply spring back when stepped on, they simply regrow when ripped out.

You would have spent the first few weeks screaming, ripping roots out of the ground, scheming, plotting, swearing. What else would you have done? But over time, you began to resign yourself to your situation. I hope you find comfort that you're not the only one who knows how that feels.

Far away from the world's living and dead, unable to destroy or devise, this is where you'll stay. You can't sweet-talk the flowers, you can't take advantage of the wind's trust. You cannot leave and you cannot die. You will never hurt me again.

And over time, these dreams will fade with the nights. I replace them with my friends and family. I'll close my eyes and think about meals in the moonlight, about playing with dogs and cats and owlbears, or about nothing at all. I think more about myself now. About what I want to do with every day that I have. I learned to make mince pies, I admire the setting sun. I make more friends. I treat myself. I deserve that. I saved the fucking world. I saved my fucking self.

When I think of you, tending to a field of flowers in the Hells forever, I feel relieved.

One day, I won't think of you at all.

And that makes me smile.

Bye forever, pal.

Karlach.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

my sweet gal Karlach deserves all this and more

ty for the love and kind words/tags on some of my works!!! It's seriously so encouraging to know that actual people like what I do!

as I said in my intro I'm pretty inclined to do bittersweet, wordy pieces so I think you can definitely see that across my works so far

anyway thanks again!! :3

1144pm 3/6/24 1252 4/6/24

[zeciex]

Happy Friday babes!!!!!

Yesterday was shit (except for the trailer) because I had a bad reaction to medication that made me so violently sick literally as soon as I woke up that I had petechia all over my face, like bloody freckles 😅 it’s left my body, especially my torso & neck, extremely sore and I just took a crazy hot shower. I’m about to get in the comfiest clothes, becuase winter won’t leave smoke a lil and order lunch before settling in for chapter 71. As I was showering and planning my day, my adhd brain is thinking of a million different things and thanks to that I realized how similar you made Daenera’s disposal of her Baratheon husband with the help of a lover to Cersei’s disposal of Robert 😏 although I can’t remember if Cersei was sleeping with her cousin yet or not lmao

Regardless, these little things are another reason I love this story so much!!! I love how you’re able to take an existing story and branch off in your own way whilst also making it fit the original story. I literally can’t wait to see what you do with season 2 inspiration 😍😍😍

Also, I was talking to a friend about that gif of Aemond looking at Alicent like a psycho who got his way even tho she said he wouldn’t 😈 and how it makes me want a fic where he has a reason to feel that way and I’m just now realizing that it could so fit Aemond’s marriage to Daenera and I can’t unsee it now lmao

Oh shit, are you okay? I hope you get better soon! What a way to start a conversation lol 😘

Oh yeah, I definitely took inspiration from what happened to good old Bobby B. Cersei was a champ for that one--though I'm not entirely sure she had started fucking cousin yet or not. But yeah, it was definitely an inspiration and I feel like getting killed of in that manner is very fitting for their characters. It was a very intentional choice I made. I like the whole idea of 'history repeating itself' and who's to say if it was made an open secret that Daenera killed her husband this way, then maybe Cersei got inspiration from that.

And I hope to keep up the level of intention in season 2, though some things will likely have to be changed--timeline stretched, a few scenes coming in a certain order, and over all arch of Daenera/Aemond being fitted in there. Like most things for S1 of this story has been intentional and something I've spent months and months planning and configuring before getting to the plot points. So we'll see if I can manage in season 2!

"Aemond looking at Alicent like a psycho who got his way even tho she said he wouldn’t 😈" Oh, you'll definitely get to see that! Hell, you might even see it at the end of this season!

[sissytobitch10seconds]

Her Husband

Fandom: Stranger Things Summary: Robin's a nervous person, everyone knows that. First dates are also a nerve-wracking ordeal for everyone, but more so for her. Warnings: Mentions of period typical homophobia Word Count: 782 Ship(s): Steve Harrington&/Robin Buckley

Archive link!

A/N: So this is the first half of a two-part (or maybe more if I decide there's a need for it) series and it may not make a ton of sense alone. I hope that you all enjoy this part and are prepared for the next one! Stay sissy and bitchy everyone <3

Robin shifted uncomfortably on her chair. This was probably her least favorite part of having a first date with a new romantic interest. She had done it over a dozen times at this point,a ll the way through college and even into her adult career. She thought that it would get easier after a little while but it almost seemed like the world was specifically against her to make her just as anxious about it every single time she did it.

“I have something that I have to confess if we’re going to keep going down this path,” she cleared her throat awkwardly.

“Oh yeah?” her date asked.

Ashley was pretty and kind. She had long red hair that she kept in a braided bun on the back of her head because she worked with animals. Her hands were calloused on her right middle finger and along the base of her thumb. She had fair skin that refused to freckle no matter how long she stayed in the sun. Tonight she had worn a pretty blue dress that kept slipping off of her shoulder to reveal the lacy black bra that she was wearing. The fact that she was kind, worked with animals, and had obviously come to their date with the expectation of the night ending in sex was what was making it so much worse for Robin.

She wiped her hands on her pants and reminded herself that she had faced way worse than this. She would much rather have to tell pretty women who wanted to have sex with her the little secret that she kept tucked into another part of her life than fight Vecna or be tortured by Russians. But it didn’t always feel like it.

“I have a husband,” she explained.

Ashley immediately wrinkled her nose and leaned back in her chair like Robin had just told her that she had the Black Death. “You mean that you led me on to help you cheat on someone?”

“No,” she shook her head. “He knows that I’m here and he supports it wholeheartedly-”

Robin had a whole spiel in her head that she always tried to use when she was telling dates this, but she almost never got it out all the way when they began to freak out. It turned out that it was going to be the same this time as it was every other time. Ashley leaned forward and spoke in a hushed voice so that none of the other patrons in the surrounding tables would be able to hear her as she said, “You know that lesbianism isn’t some gross kink for men, right? Some of us, such as myself, think that we can only be with women. I’m not going to sleep with you so that your husband can watch through your blinds or in your closet or something. That’s fucking disgusting.”

“You don’t understand,” Robin whimpered. She usually dropped it when the person she was talking to obviously wanted the conversation to end, but she had been really invested in the potential relationship she could have with Ashley. “It-it’s not like that. We’re not together romantically or sexually. We’re married and we love each other but he-he’s more like my platonic soulmate. It was like when the gods were making us or whatever he decided that I was going to love my best friend with my entire chest but only be interested in women and-”

Ashley cut her off again, “So he’s a beard? I’ve dated women like that before but it didn’t really work out.”

“No, he’s not a beard! He’s my husband,” Robin objected, frustrated. The idea of her husband only being her beard or something that was totally disposable once she found the right woman made her want to vomit. He was far more important to her than any romantic foray, so she decided that she was just going to take the hit and try again some other time. “I don’t think that this is going to work out. Thanks for trying, sorry for wasting your time.”

She fished out the proper amount of money and then set it on the table before she slung her purse over her shoulder and walked away. It was frustrating to have that happen over and over again, but she would always place her husband above any romantic or sexual encounters that she would have. It was hard to explain to people, especially with the limited vocabulary that still existed for queer people even in the mid-nineties, but it was very important to her that whatever future romantic partner she may have recognize that first and foremost, Steve was her husband.

[spaceorphan18]

Scenes from December (14/24)

Klaine Advent : Day Fourteen : Dispose

***

December, 2035

“You guys are the worst.” 

Kurt grinned at his teenage daughter’s discomfort as he placed the Mickey Mouse ears on his head.  Blaine had on an identical pair, and he really did not care that they were in their forties - you were never too old for Mickey Mouse ears.  Katie, however, flushed a deep red because somehow a pair of plastic ears was somehow the most humiliating thing that could have ever happened to her -- here in Florida, where exactly zero people knew who she was.  

“You hear that, Kurt?” Blaine asked as he perused the overpriced Disney gift shop.  He found a pair of cheesy, hot pink and white polka-dotted Minnie Mouse sunglasses and put them on.  “Apparently, saving up our hard earned money to take our family to the most magical place on Earth makes us the worst parents ever.”

“Well, I’m having a nice time,” Tracy said in their defense.  She smiled grandly as she spun a rack of art work around.  

“Don’t let them fool you,” Katie said, leaning in to her.  “This trip was entirely for them.  We’re just not legal yet, and have to be subjected to all of their indulgent whims.”

“Oohh - someone’s been brushing up on their ACT words,” Kurt said, with some heavy sarcasm.  She had been complaining nearly the entire week they had been there.  Was he this bad at fifteen? Oh, how his dad will probably laugh when he calls after their vacation.   “And if you’re not happy - we can send you back to stay with Grandpa Burt in Ohio.  I hear it’s snowing.  I’m sure he’ll let you shovel the driveway.”  

“Do you hear how easily they’d dispose of us,” Katie continued.  “Their own daughters.”  

“No, only you,” Tracy shot back.  “They apparently still like me.” 

Kurt bit his lip, trying not to laugh at Tracy’s sting.  

“We like both of you,” Blaine said - always the diplomat.  “No one is getting sent back to Ohio to shovel snow.”

“Yet,” Kurt couldn’t help but mutter.   

Blaine shot him a look over the glasses.  “Look, it’s been a fun vacation.  Why don’t we just try to enjoy what we can while we’re here.”  

“That’s easy for you to say,” Katie shot at him.  “Because you seem to get off to amusement parks and crowds and embarrassing public serenades.” 

Blaine looked almost aghast that she’d speak to him that way.  Kurt wasn’t as surprised - she did take after him when it came to her weaponizing her words.  

“Hey - I think singing in public is romantic,” Tracy cut in.  Sweet, little Tracy - truly of Blaine’s spirit.  

“You know, your father does look rather attractive right now,” Kurt said.  Really, Blaine looked comically ridiculous with the ears and the sunglasses, but he was still rather fond of his husband. And maybe made him a bad parent, but he did get a slight kick out of getting under Katie’s skin.  “Maybe we’ll go out into the courtyard - right outside Cinderella’s castle and sing an impromptu duet.” 

“Oh god, no.” 

Kurt continued, “we could even grab a Disney Prince and make it a threesome.”

“Don’t you mean trio?” asked a confused Tracy.

“No, now they’re just being purposely and publicly gross for my utter humiliation,” Katie said, her entire face scrunched in revolution.    

Blaine grinned at him, shaking his head.  

“What do you think, Blaine?  Sleeping Beauty’s Prince Phillip maybe?” Kurt suggested, with an eyebrow raised.  

Blaine considered.  “Prince Eric.” 

“Eh, he’s a bit dense.” 

“Ooh, Aladdin.” 

“Or Hercules - he could be really fancy with the choreography and throw you over his shoulder.” 

“Or the Beast! There’s nothing wrong with a guy with a little extra hair.”

“Okay, stop,” a mortified Katie shouted. “Forever stop this conversation.  Why do you guys continue to say things I can never unhear?  Why can’t you guys be normal and boring like the rest of my friends’ parents? I just cannot believe I actually came from the two of you.” 

“Well, technically - only one of them,” Tracy cut in.  “Since neither of them have a uterus, it would have been rather hard for them to both contribute to your genetic make-up.” Katie’s mouth dropped, and for once she was shocked into complete silence.  “What? We talked about genetics in science this year.” 

“Well, she is right,” Blaine said, thinking about it.  “Though we did mix the sperm together so the genetics would be a surprise.” 

Katie let out a low groan as she buried her head in her hands.  Kurt, trying not to die of laughter, put a somewhat sympathetic arm around her shoulders.  “Don’t worry, kiddo,” he said, unintentionally channeling his dad.  “It’ll probably get a lot worse before it gets better.  But at some point, you’ll learn to appreciate us.”

[bad-at-names-and-faces]

Tests

ao3

ffn

chapter index

August 31st, 1865

Dear Henry,

I’m happy to hear that you arrived back safely in Corona.  What exactly do you mean about Hilde’s suspicions?  You do have me a bit worried with the way you phrased that.  I hope the official permission from your grandfather is coming along.  You said everyone wished you congratulations, so I hope there won’t be too much stalling, even if I am resigning myself to waiting until next summer. 

I’m very sorry I haven’t written as much, by the way, since you’ve written every day. My mother and I have started planning the harvest festival, and I’ve been visiting a friend who hasn’t been well. I think you met her husband, the captain of the guard.  Frederick has his exam in a few days, so he’s been studying when he and his friends aren’t all taking a break from studying, and half the time they drag me with them for company. Still, I feel terribly negligent for not writing. 

And I miss you. I start daydreaming about having you here again and then I forget I haven’t actually written. It sounds rather stupid, I suppose. 

Oh, and it’s late now, so I’m fairly sure it will be your birthday by the time you see this, so happy birthday!  I hope I’ll be with you to properly wish you a happy birthday next year.

Love,

Inga

Henry smiled as he read Inga’s letter. It had only been a few days since Inga had written, but he had started worrying, just a little bit. He knew that she might be busy, but he liked knowing that she thought about him as much as he thought about her.  

The time was, in fact, quite late, and looking at the clock, he realized that it was now his birthday. It had been about a year since they had met. He grabbed a pen and paper.

September 1st, 1865

Dear Inga,

Thank you so much for the birthday wishes.  You were right! I looked at the clock, and it is, in fact, after midnight. 

I know you’re busy, so as long as you don’t mind if I keep writing every day.

My mother is helping my grandfather by researching what we need to do for my permission, but that’s only about diplomacy and politics. We still could just get married, you know. What do you think? Forget all our responsibilities and just run off together somewhere?

I don’t know if I want to be serious or joking in saying that.

I suppose I should get to sleep.  I was working on a small drawing when your letter arrived, so I’ll include it with this letter. I hope you like it.

Good night.

Love,

Henry

Henry lay in bed for what seemed like a long time after sending the letter. He had never felt alone before, not like this. Not when he knew what he was missing. 

0o0o0

Inga looked at the sketch Henry had drawn for her. It looked like a view from the palace in Corona. She wondered if it might be the view from Henry’s own room. Perhaps it was. She was about to put the drawing in the drawer with the others, but then stopped. Everyone now understood that she and Henry at least planned to be engaged, so there was no reason to be secretive about the drawings she had from him. She would display it on her wall.

She found some paste in a drawer that she hadn’t opened in years, but it had dried out, so she rang for Oline, who showed up remarkably quickly.

“Your Highness?” Oline asked. 

“Do you think you might be able to find me some paste?” Inga asked.

“Paste?”

“Yes, or glue… you know, for paper?”

“I’ll see what I can find,” Oline replied with a quick curtsey as she left the room.

The dried-out paste had an odd smell to it, though Inga couldn’t quite decide what it was. It had been sitting there a while, though.

Oline finally returned. “I found this,” the maid told her, handing her a small jar.

“Thank you,” Inga replied, then handed over the old jar. “Could you dispose of this? I think it’s gone bad, and it’s dried out, anyway.”

Oline took the old jar and gave a sniff. “It smells just like dried paste to me, but I’ll certainly take it for you.”

Inga opened up the new jar, and instantly put the lid back on. It smelled, too.  “Oline?” she called out just before her maid left the room.

“Yes?” Oline replied, stopping at the door.  

“Does this one smell to you?”

Oline walked over, putting her nose near the jar as Inga opened it again. “A little.  That variety always smells funny, I think.”

Inga thought for a moment while Oline stood there. “Could you do me a favor? I have this drawing, and I’d like to put it on the wall, but I really don’t think I can handle the smell. Would you mind?”

“Not at all,” Oline said, putting the old jar in the pocket of her apron. “Show me where I should put it.”

***

Henry woke up to the door shutting behind James, leaving from picking up a few things. He was happy to find a letter on his bedside table in the morning, and it was clearly from Inga.

September 1st, 1865

Dear Henry,

I feel like I should be the one sending you a gift today, but thank you so much for the drawing of Corona.  I’ve put it up on my wall so I can see it when I wake up each morning. Perhaps you’re looking at the same view? I like that idea.

I need to find a better kind of paste if I’m going to be putting your drawings up. My maid brought me a jar of something so foul-smelling that I had to ask her to put up the drawing for me.  I had her put up some of your older drawings that I had been keeping in my desk drawer previously, as well.  It’s very nice.  

Thinking of you.

Love,

Inga

Henry smiled at the fact that Inga had recognized the view from his window, and looked out, hoping that she was, in fact, looking at the picture at that moment. He went to the cupboard where he kept his art supplies. Perhaps he could send a jar to Inga.

***

Inga wasn’t sure she should be lingering outside the room where Frederick and his friends were taking the examination for Corona’s Naval Academy, but it had been several hours, and she hoped that Frederick would be done soon. 

The doorknob rattled a bit before opening, and Inga stepped back, hoping it would look like she was just passing by the room.  The Admiral from Corona stepped out the door, and held it open for the boys to leave the room.  Their faces were blank and they all looked exhausted.  The Admiral thanked each one as they exited, then went back in to ring for a servant.  

Frederick hadn’t noticed Inga as he left the room, and he started walking along with the other boys, presumably to head back into town with them.  Inga ran to catch up.

“Frederick!” she called out.

He stopped and swung around.  “Inga!”

“How did the examination go?” she asked.

The other boys sighed.  Frederick just nodded in their direction.

They kept walking, and Inga kept up. 

“Well, it’s done now,” Inga said.  “When will you find out how you did?”

“Later this week,” Frederick said.  

They continued walking across the courtyard, heading toward town. 

“Are you going out to celebrate now?” Inga asked.

“I suppose so,” Frederick chuckled. “I don’t know if we should call it celebrating until we know the results.  But we were planning to go to Hudson’s Hearth now.”

“You’re welcome to come with us,” one of the boys said. 

“I don’t want to interrupt your time together,” Inga said.

“Oh, come on! I’m sure Bjorgman won’t mind,” the other boy said.

Inga smiled a bit. “Would you two want to have your sisters coming along?”

“I don’t have a sister,” the first boy said. “What about you, Jorgensen?”

The second boy shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.  Your brother’s been telling us all about you.”

“Should I be worried?” Inga chuckled.

“Let’s just say, you should be glad he’s also told us about that other fellow,” the first boy said in a teasing tone, though it made her a little nervous.

“What?!” Frederick said, grabbing the boy’s shoulder rather firmly. 

“Woah!” the second boy interjected, “Bjorgman, I think Dahl was teasing.  Ease up!”

“Sorry,” Frederick muttered, his face red. “Inga, are you sure you want to come along?”

“I’m fine. I’ll assume it was a compliment, nothing more,” Inga insisted.  “But if I’m joining you, I feel like I really ought to know more than your surnames.”

The two laughed. 

“I suppose we don’t use anything besides surnames most of the time,” Jorgensen observed, sticking out his hand. “Lukas Jorgensen.”

Inga shook hands, and the other boy stuck out his hand before she had finished.

“Anders Dahl,” the other said, as Inga shook hands.

“Good, then we’ve properly met,” Inga smiled.

As they finished crossing the bridge from the castle into town, ahead of them, at the edge of the market square, her attention turned to some commotion as someone ran through the square.  

“Frederick!” she heard Meibel shouting from the edge of the square, now running toward them. Inga supposed it wouldn’t be so bad if Meibel joined them now.

Inga waved. “Hello, Mei-” 

“Inga! Frederick!” Meibel breathlessly interrupted Inga’s greeting as she got close.  “You need to go to the castle and get Captain Olsen!”

“Wait,” Inga began, “is Isabel-”

“She’s not doing well. Edith couldn’t handle it and ran home, and Halima’s still there with Kate, and she told me to go find Siggy and…”  Meibel stood, catching her breath.

“Frederick, go get Siggy,” Inga ordered. “Meibel, you go see if Edith is doing fine, and I’ll go join Halima.”

Meibel ran back home to find her sister Edith, and Frederick gave a quick wave to Dahl and Jorgensen before running back toward the castle. The other two stood not sure what to do.

"You two, just go have your lunch," Inga said, before turning and walking toward Isabel's house. She couldn't even remember the conversation a few minutes earlier, and felt like she was in a fog. Memories were intruding in her thoughts. She had never really been aware of her siblings' births, as they always seemed to happen late at night, or early in the morning, and the nanny was always quick to keep them occupied when it was happening, but she remembered, even though all of the younger children's births seemed to be uneventful, with her mother only resting a bit, she hadn't seen her mother for a long time after the twins were born. Frederick was too young to remember, but she was just old enough to remember that her mother was "sick" and her father hardly seemed to be doing much better.  

Inga arrived at Isabel's door and could hear muffled orders being shouted from the other side. She took a deep breath, gave a slight push, and the door swung right open. 

"Your Highness!" the maid exclaimed with a brief curtsey from the kitchen, before picking up a kettle of boiling water, presumably to carry up to the bedroom.

There was a metallic smell in the air.

"Inga?" Halima said, looking out from the door, her face understandably worried.

“Meibel didn’t tell me very much, what’s going on?” Inga asked as she walked up the stairs.

“Are you sure you want to come in here?” Halima asked, avoiding answering Inga’s question.

“I- I’ll be fine,” Inga said, knowing by now that her imagination was as bad as anything she might see.

Halima sighed and opened the door for Inga to come in.  There was a doctor in the room, and Kate was sitting by Isabel’s head, holding her hand.  Isabel was very pale, and looked pained, but seemed to be barely conscious of anything at all at this point.

“She’s lost a lot of blood,” the doctor said directly to Halima, not noticing Inga’s presence in the room, which Inga realized was probably for the best.

“Frederick went to get Siggy,” Inga said quietly in Halima’s ear.  Halima nodded.  

Inga noticed a commotion in the corner, and noticed a nurse tending to a tiny baby in the cradle.  She walked over, and saw that the nurse was swaddling the baby, who was making little squeaking sounds, which she would have wanted to comment on if the rest of the room hadn’t been so serious and ominous.  She stepped over to the nurse.

“The baby…” Inga whispered, not sure what she should be asking.

“A girl,” the nurse whispered back, “she seems healthy enough.”

Inga let out a sigh.  “That’s good, at least.”

There was a loud rattling at the door downstairs.  Inga made her way downstairs and opened the door to Isabel’s husband, looking pale, and Frederick standing behind him looking worried, as well.  

“It’s a girl,” Inga said. “The baby is doing well.” 

“And Isabel?” Siggy said.

“She’s… she’s not doing so well. Come upstairs,” Inga said, not sure how she was speaking as calmly as she was.  It didn’t feel like her own voice.

Inga led Isabel's husband up to the bedroom. She could only assume that Frederick wasn't far behind the two of them.  

The maid was coming out of the room with an arm full of towels and rags that had recently been bed sheets.  Inga looked over her shoulder, and Siggy looked almost ill.  

“She’s resting,” Halima said as they walked in.  

Inga looked over, and saw that Isabel had been cleaned up, her dark hair tied up as best that, presumably, the maid and Kate could manage without disturbing her. She was asleep now, her breathing shallow but regular.  Kate stood up as Siggy rushed over to the side of the bed.  

The doctor walked in from having washed up, and seemed to recognize Inga for the first time since she had arrived there, giving her a somewhat surprised nod. 

He spoke to Halima first, mentioning that he would stop by in town later with some suggestions for meals that would be best for Isabel, and after that, looking at Inga, added “I would like to speak to Captain Olsen alone now, if you please.”

“Kate,” Halima called over gently, “why don’t we go downstairs right now?”

Kate nodded, looking back at Isabel, and came with them.  As they entered the hallway from the bedroom, the maid was returning with some clean rags. Halima put her finger to her mouth, and the maid nodded, understanding that she should make herself as unobtrusive as possible.

“Inga, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, could you walk Kate home, please?” Halima asked once they got downstairs.  “And if you see Destin, please send him here, please.”

Inga nodded.  General Mattias had presumably been with the Admiral from Corona and Arendelle’s Admiral Sorensen discussing the examination results.  He had officially been retired for several years, but he liked to keep busy, and discussing military academy candidates was about the right level of activity at his advanced age.  

Kate was silent as they walked back into town.  On a normal day, she would be bubbly and talking on and on with hardly time to breathe.  Of course, her sister Edith was usually with her as well.  

“Did Edith say anything earlier?” Inga asked, hoping it wasn’t too sensitive of a subject.

“No,” Kate said bluntly.  “She just started crying and left.”

“Oh,” Inga replied.  “I sent Meibel to check on her. I hope she’ll be okay.”

They got to the General and Halima’s home, which was next door to Hudson’s Hearth right on the edge of the market square. Kate pulled out a key from the chain on her neck and entered inside.  Inga had never been over at their house when it was locked up before. It occurred to her that she didn’t know if there were locks to any of the doors in the castle.  There had to be, but she couldn’t remember using any keys to any of the rooms. 

As they came inside, muffled crying could be heard from upstairs.  Meibel was sitting in a chair in the front parlor, looking like she couldn’t decide whether she was feeling petulant or worried.  

“Edith won’t let me talk to her,” she announced as they came inside. She swallowed and added, “How is Isabel?”

“She’s resting,” Inga said.

“Have you seen Papa?” Kate asked Meibel, as the general was obviously not home.

“He might be next door,” Meibel said.  

“Meibel,” Inga said, “why don’t you and I go check if he’s there?  Perhaps Edith would like to talk to Kate.”

Kate nodded, and slowly walked upstairs, while Inga took Meibel by the hand and walked over to Hudson’s Hearth.  

As Inga and Meibel entered Hudson’s Hearth, Frederick’s friends were sitting in the far corner of the dining room, talking loudly, and Inga was fairly certain they weren’t on their first round of drinks.  General Mattias wasn’t in the room, so Meibel ran back to the kitchen to ask about him.  Inga did her best to make herself inconspicuous as she stood by the door to the market square. 

Just as Meibel came back from the kitchen, the General walked in from the square. Meibel, normally acting so grown up at Hudson’s, serving food to customers and taking orders, ran over to them.

“Meibel, what’s going on?”

“Isabel isn’t doing well,” she said, doing her best not to speak too loudly.  “You should come there.”

“Where are the others?” the General asked.

“Captain Olsen is there,” Inga replied, “and Halima asked for me to find you and wanted you to come over.  Kate and Edith came back home.”

“Can I go back?” Meibel asked. 

“You can come with me,” the General replied. “Inga, can you check in on Kate and Edith?”

Inga nodded as the General and his ward, Meibel, left Hudson’s Hearth.

She walked back over to the house, knocking on the door, which was locked again.  Kate opened the door.

“How is Edith?” Inga asked.

“She won’t let me talk to her either,” Kate said with resignation. 

Inga looked up the stairs.  “Shall I try?”

“I don’t see what harm it could do at this point,” Kate shrugged.

Inga quietly walked up the stairs, knocking gently on Edith’s bedroom door.

“What is it?” Edith called out, sounding like she was still crying.

“It’s Inga. I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”

Edith opened the door. Her face and eyes were red. 

“Look, if you’d rather be alone right now, I understand.  I really do.”

“No, come on in,” Edith sighed.  

Edith closed the door behind them as Inga walked in, and motioned for her to sit down on one of the chairs by the window.  Inga sat down and looked outside at the market square and harbor.  Inga had never been here or any of the girls’ bedrooms before, and watching the people going about their business in the market square like it was any other day transfixed her. 

As Edith sat down in the other chair, Inga noticed a small book on the table, open with a loose photograph.  Edith was touching it gently.

“What is that?” Inga asked without thinking, instantly regretting her question as soon as her eyes adjusted to the light inside the room and could see the details. The photograph was of a woman holding a baby, both appearing to be asleep, though Inga knew they weren’t sleeping.

“That’s my mother and brother,” Edith explained.

“I didn’t know you had a brother,” Inga said. 

“I didn’t, not really,” Edith mumbled.

“What do you mean?” 

“Not the way you know your brothers,” Edith said. 

“Oh,” Inga replied, not sure what to say. 

“Kate doesn’t remember any of it,” Edith continued.  “And everyone else in the town was worried about your mother- I’m sorry, I don’t mean to sound bitter.”

“I- no, please don’t apologize,” Inga insisted.  

“Inga, you don’t mind that I’m telling you all this?”

Inga was taken aback by the question.  “Why would I mind?”

She never minded people telling her things, but she suddenly realized that hardly anyone told her anything, not like this. Did she really know anybody here?

***

September 10th, 1865

Dear Henry,

I’m so sorry I haven’t written in over a week.  I’m fine, as is my family, but you were correct that something was wrong for me not to write for so many days.  You may remember I was telling you about my friend Isabel, the wife of the captain of the castle guard.  She had the baby, a girl, who is healthy and doing well, but Isabel has been doing very poorly, and for several days no one was quite sure if she would make it. I think she will be fine now, but she’s still quite ill, and we’ve all been going over to help out.  

I’m going to take my mind off that business this morning and meet with my mother to begin planning the harvest festival.  It will be at the beginning of November, so I hope that you can find a way to visit.  And thank you for the paste suggestion.  You’re right, the one she brought up was rubber cement, so perhaps the one you sent will be nicer. I’ll ask my maid if she’s seen something arrive for me in the last few days.

Love,

Inga

Inga whispered for Gale, and released the letter out her bedroom window, then left to visit Isabel.  She had a basket with treats from the castle kitchens, though she wasn’t entirely sure who would be eating them. Isabel was still only occasionally taking some broth, and mostly sleeping, and Inga couldn’t remember seeing Captain Olsen ever eating pastries. Perhaps they could be offered to guests.  They were getting a lot of visitors, and Inga was rarely there with just the maid.

Soon after she knocked, the maid arrived at the door, looking rushed.

“Your Highness,” she said, curtseying. 

“Is everything all right?” Inga asked.

“Nothing has changed,” the maid replied before noticing Inga’s face. “That is, there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Is there anything I can help with?” 

“Well, since you mention it, the nurse has taken the afternoon off, but there’s extra laundry I need to take out.  If you could just watch the baby for a few minutes?  The mistress is sleeping, and she wouldn’t be able to do anything, anyway.”

“Oh, of course!” Inga said, knowing from her youngest siblings that there wasn’t much to do with a baby this young, anyway.

The maid went to the back to gather up the mass of laundry into a basket and went out the back door.  The baby was napping in a cradle in the front parlor, so Inga took a moment to walk upstairs and check on Isabel.  She was sleeping peacefully, her breathing now gentle and regular, at least.

As she walked back down to the parlor, a wagon went by with a wheel that suddenly squeaked, which woke the baby.  Inga picked up the little girl carefully and held her, keeping her from fussing too much.

Inga paced the room, gently rocking the baby up and down, as little Hallie slowly fell back asleep.  Just then, a key turned in the front door, and Captain Olsen walked in.

“Oh, hello,” he said in surprise.

“Is that how I get greeted now?” Inga asked.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” he scoffed.

“Sorry, sorry,” Inga sighed,  “I didn’t mean to be teasing like that, Siggy.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he quickly replied.  Inga looked a little more closely at his face, and realized he suddenly looked much older. 

“I- I just didn’t realize you would be home this afternoon,” Inga said, then began to ramble. “And I’m alone here, since the maid needed to take the laundry, and I guess the nurse is out for the afternoon, but I’m surprised that nobody came in to replace her.  My sister is over a year old now, so we could send her nurse over here a few days a week. You could think of it as a gift, I suppose-”

“How is she?”  Siggy asked, looking at the baby.

“Sleeping again,” Inga said, looking down at the baby. “Would you like to hold her?”

Siggy nodded and walked over, as Inga gently handed the baby to him.

“Isabel has mostly been sleeping,” Inga added, realizing that he might have been asking about his wife.

“I know,” he said.  “Craig has been taking some of my guard shifts so I can spend more time here. I’m giving him leave for all of December so he can visit his grandfather in Glasgow.”

“That’s nice of him,” Inga said, adding, “and for him, I suppose.  I imagine he doesn’t get there very often.”

“I have a grandmother in Bergen, and I don’t even get up there very often,” Siggy said, latching on to a neutral topic.  

Inga stayed where she was, looking at the baby some more. 

“Does your grandmother visit Arendelle often?” she asked, hoping the conversation could continue.

“I’ve written to her. I suppose my grandmother will visit soon enough, but we do need to make sure that it’s a good time.”

Inga didn’t need to ask if he meant waiting for Isabel to be healthy enough to see someone from out of town.

“She’s a very sweet baby,” she said, stroking the baby’s cheek.

“Yes, she’s very precious,” Siggy said. “I hope she stays healthy, since...”

Inga waited for him to complete the sentence, but he simply sat down near the window, still holding the baby, and looked out across the harbor.  She wasn’t sure if she should pry, and yet, lately, she had realized how little she knew about everyone else here.  

Sitting down in the other seat by the window, she briefly took notice of some women standing at the corner nearby gossiping.  She wondered how visible she and the captain were here in his parlor, but pushed the thought out of her mind.

“Siggy,” she began, “how is everything?”

He sat deep in thought for a moment. “I suppose I can’t complain.  I have a beautiful daughter, and hopefully she will have a mother.”

“I don’t mean to assume, but…” Inga considered her words for a moment. “The way you say you can’t complain, it makes me think that something is wrong.” 

Siggy gave a long, heavy sigh.  “The doctor told me that if Isabel had any more children, she would almost definitely...”

In her mind, Inga could fill in the words he had left out.  Siggy didn’t want to say out loud the idea that his wife would probably die if she had another child.

“Oh. That must be difficult.” 

“I plan to focus on the good,” he said, sounding like he was trying to convince himself of this.

Inga looked out again. The women standing nearby quickly turned away.

“Have you seen Frederick today?” Inga asked after a moment, hoping to change the subject.

“I saw the General and the Admirals going into the castle before I left, so I think they’ve finally settled on examination results,” Siggy explained, probably as relieved as Inga herself was for a different subject to discuss.

“Frederick has been so nervous about that,” Inga told him. “I’ve been telling him he’ll do fine, and I hope he does, because I don’t want to be wrong about this.”

Siggy smiled. Just then there was a knock at the door. He started to get up, but Inga shook her head at him, nodding at the baby, and got up and answered the door.

“Inga!” Meibel chirped as the door opened. Kate and Edith were standing right behind her.

“Oh, hello, Siggy!” Kate said.

“We didn’t know you were planning to come this afternoon, Siggy,” Edith explained, “or we would have come sooner.”

Siggy nodded.

“I should go check on Isabel,” Inga said. “You can keep your brother-in-law company.”

Inga walked upstairs, quietly entering the bedroom. Isabel was still sleeping, but looked like she was going to wake up soon, so Inga sat down next to the bed.

Isabel gave a small groan and blinked a bit, looking at Inga.  “Hello,” she croaked out.

“Hello, did you rest well?” Inga asked.

“Not really,” Isabel admitted. “I have the strangest dreams.”

“Oh?” Inga commented.  

“Where is the baby?”

“She’s downstairs.  Your husband got home early, and your sisters are here, giving her lots of attention.”

Isabel smiled.  “Do you like the name? I’m so glad that Siggy and I had talked about names before. I’d hate to think of him trying to figure that out while I was so ill.  We had been talking about naming a boy for Siggy’s father, but that will have to wait.”

Inga forced herself to smile and nod. It was obvious that Isabel hadn’t been told anything about how serious her condition was.

“Has Frederick taken his exams?” Isabel asked. 

“He has, and they might find out the results soon,” Inga told her. She remembered what Isabel had asked what seemed like ages ago. “I found out their names, by the way. Frederick’s friends, I mean.”

“Really?” Isabel chuckled. 

“Lukas and… oh dear, who was the other one?” Inga paused. “Anders!”

“Do you remember which was which?”

“Oh, goodness, no, they told me-” Inga cut herself off, remembering why that conversation with Frederick’s friends had been cut short. “I can’t remember which was which. But those are their names.”

“Well, I’ll tell Kate and Edith and leave them to decide who is who.  I heard you’re also planning the fall festival this year? I hope I’ll be feeling a bit better by then.”

“My mother and I only just started, but it should be about the same as last year,” Inga replied.  

“Don’t talk that way,” Isabel chastised her.  “This sort of thing is always harder than it looks to people who have no experience with trying to get everyone doing what they’re supposed to be doing.”

“Well, thanks,” Inga replied.

Edith and Kate walked in just then. Kate was carrying the baby.  “I told you I heard her wake up,” Kate whispered loudly to Edith. 

“Hello, you two,” Isabel smiled.

“We thought you might like some time with the baby,” Edith said.  “Everyone else has gotten time with her today.”

“Thank you, that would be wonderful!” Isabel said, holding out her arms, though she wasn’t up to sitting up yet.

Inga stood up to let Kate and Edith sit by the edge of the bed.

“I should be getting home. Shall I come by tomorrow, Isabel?” Inga asked.

“Yes, please. You have a nice evening,” Isabel said.

Inga made polite apologies to Meibel and Siggy as she left the house and made her way back to the castle.  She still hadn’t eaten that day, aside from the piece of toast her mother had forced on her.  But there was so much to think about.  She didn’t want to think about food.

She saw Frederick and his friends coming across the bridge laughing.  The examination results must have been good.  Frederick saw her and ran ahead to meet her, startling her by picking her up off the ground.  

“I guess it’s good news, then?” she asked, laughing a bit.

“We all got in!” Frederick exclaimed.

“Well, of course you did,” Inga said.

“It was never a sure thing!” Frederick insisted. 

“Yes, but you were studying, all of you were.  I’ve seen you working at this all summer.”

Frederick blushed a bit. “Well, this time, would you like to come for an actual celebration?”

Inga smiled. “I’m a bit tired, but thanks for the offer. We can go out some other time.”

“Oh, fine.”  Frederick looked almost sad.

“But you should all enjoy yourselves. You deserve it.”

“Thanks,” Frederick said, as his friends slowly caught up. “Let’s go!”

Inga walked into the courtyard.  She could hear the twins and her father talking in the stables.  She wouldn’t interrupt them. It was a beautiful afternoon, but she really was tired. She hadn’t been trying to avoid going back into town with her brother.

As she got to her room and closed the door behind her, some leaves were hitting the window.  She opened it up, and a letter fluttered down to her bedside.  It was from Henry. She tried to remember if she had written to him that morning.  He had sent her some paste, which was oddly thoughtful, but she had been so distracted.

She opened the letter.

September 10th, 1865

Dear Inga,

I’m so glad to hear from you again. I hope your friend makes a full recovery, that sounds terrible. I do remember the Captain, he seemed quite nice.

It's good to hear that you’ve found the paste useful. I’ll have to come see what you’ve done with my drawings, as I always like to see when people have displayed my work.  I’ve made plans to come in time for the fall festival, and I will have the letter signed by my grandfather with me. 

Love,

Henry

Inga smiled at the thought of the council no longer having reason to hold off on an official engagement, though the wedding would probably still not happen until the following summer. No matter how often people promised that the time would go by quickly, it still felt so long.

[loveforpreserumsteve]

A Whole New Ballfield: "ALN" Post (Pre-Serum Omega!Steve and Alpha!Bucky Modern Domestic AU)

Nineteen:

"They look like an alien," Cori commented, looking at the 3D ultrasound picture.

"I'm definitely never having kids," Bitsy claimed, face scrunched up in displeasure at the odd photo of her unborn nephew.

"What are you talking about?" Kit asked, taking the picture from their sisters. Crossing the room to where Ollie was sitting, they held the picture up to the pregnant omega, "He looks just like his pops."

"Ha," Ollie deadpanned, snatching the picture from his younger sibling. "So funny. And just for that, you're not godparent."

"Way to go, loser," Leigh-Anne good-humoredly teased, affectionately shoving Kit.

The alpha simply rolled their eyes before wrapping Leigh-Anne into a headlock, rubbing their knuckles along her freshly shaven head. Steve simply rolled his eyes at the display. Increasingly, it was a common sight to behold.

Not even Tony was surprised by the scene as the short omega punched Rhodey's arm, whining, "I thought that I was going to be godfather."

Rubbing at his sore arm, Rhodey loudly scoffed, "What made you think that?"

"I was told that I was," Tony pointed accusingly at his pregnant childhood friend, "Directly from your husband."

"Hey," Ollie was taken aback. Denying that he did such a thing and corrected, "I said that Pepper was godmother."

"And she's my wife, so I would clearly be de facto godfather," Tony argued.

Handing the riled up omega some of Natasha's infamous Grinch mocktail, Pepper assuaged, "We just won't make them godparents to our future children."

"That's not fair," Oliver pouted, marking over his protruding bump.

"Definitely not fair," Rhodey agreed, attempting to appease his mate and his unborn son who started kicking harshly from inside his womb.

Clearly uncomfortable, Ollie huffed and pushed himself from his seat. After Rhodey helped him, Oliver turned so he could give his spouse an appreciative kiss. Then, he pivoted his current core strength and headed for the kitchen where the older adults at the baby shower were hanging out.

"Ya hangin' in there, papa?" Tibby asked, strategically playing her UNO card.

"If I could –" Oliver started, ladling some of the popular Grinch punch into a festive winter themed disposable cup "– I would remove him right here and now."

"Been there," Mandy said, playing a reverse card.

Ivy's wife, Paige, continued the saying, "Done that."

"Three times," Auggie's wife, Tula, added, rearranging her hand of cards, trying to plan her next move.

Steve assured the younger omega, "By the time he's here, you'll miss it."

"Yeah?" The pregnant man asked, taking a drink of the non-alcoholic punch.

Nostalgically, the older guests glanced at their kids. Sure, Auggie and Tula's youngest daughter, Twiggy, was only four. But Steve knew all too well how fast time really flew. After all, it had seemed like just yesterday, Oliver was sleeping on his bladder and causing him pain as he outgrew his petite womb.

Clearing the emotion from his throat, Steve nodded, "Yeah."

"Kinda makes me wish I didn't get my tubes tied," Tula half-joked before calling out, "UNO!"

"Damn it!" Tibby complained, just like every other time they played a game that she wasn't winning at.

A soft grin on his face, Oliver gazed down at his bump, admitting, "I guess it's not so bad."

Steve nodded, agreeing. As the kicking continued, Oliver stretched, shifting his weight, in hopes of getting more comfortable. Meanwhile, Steve extended his hand, but didn't dare touch the omega without permission. Son or not, Steve understood a person's boundaries. Especially from his children.

Huffing out another breath, Ollie conceded. Letting his omega father feel the baby kicking and wiggling about. Steve just couldn't believe that any of this was real. The life that he had planned for himself before he met Bucky never paid close attention to a family. He had been a lonely man who distracted himself enough to never realize just how lonely he was.

The only thing that he'd change about his life was to have it include little Roo's great grandma, Sarah, and his namesake, Aunt Flora. They deserved to be there in person. And it was the only thing that truly broke Steve's heart when he looked at his life.

Beneath his palm, Rory gave him a particularly hard kick, and Steve hoped that that was confirmation. Almost as though Rory was assuring him that Sarah and Flora were with him. Guiding him. Loving him. Making sure that he made it safely to them.

"Thanks, bub," Steve softly told him while gently caressing that spot where Roo's tiny foot remained pressed against Oliver's womb. Seeing how uncomfortable Ollie still was, Steve lifted his other hand so he could cup the younger omega's face and assured, "Just a little bit longer. It'll fly right by."

[rot-adds-flavour]

The Taste of Decay

Part two : Taste creates Life

From my youngest age, I was a complicated little crotch gremlin. I wouldn’t touch anything that didn’t match my taste.

That included my father.

Back when I was born, the simple sight of him would bring me to tears.

I hated his guts. Why ? Because he had too much of those. His massive guts taking up all of the space in his stomach.

At age five, I told him about his imperfection.

I showed him how horrid he was.

Maybe that was the reason he cut his stomach open. At least he had listened to my advice.

« Why are you so big ? » I asked, seeming innocent.

He didn’t have an answer.

« Why not lose some weight ? »

This time, he said : « It takes time. »

I answered with mischief : « Then cut off the excess. »

And so he did.

I found his guts on my living room’s carpet as I got ready for school.

I must say his empty skinsuit looked more appealing now that it was thin and frail.

It almost made me want to try it on.

I decided not to. Not yet, at least.

I disposed of his body, hiding it under my bed. I then went to clean the guts on the now bloodstained carpet.

Afterwards, I left a note on the fridge my mother to find :

I left for a business meeting.

I will be back in a month.

I’ll make sure to bring back milk.

Love,

Your Dearest

I couldn’t let my mother discover his tragic death, so I had to cover it up. But I couldn’t help myself, I had to leave a subliminal message.

Seriously, who brings back milk from a business meeting ?

I figured my mom would never realise it. She wasn’t as smart as she thought she was.

But that was all the better for me.

I couldn’t let her kill herself if she was to find out what happened.

But even the dumbest of rocks would eventually smell the rot of his flesh.

I liked it. It helped me sleep.

I enjoyed hearing his heart beating under the floorboards.

Like the floor was breathing.

Every evening, when I came back from school, I would make sure my mother wasn’t home.

Then I would try him on. His stretched skin weighting me down. It was warm. Comfortable. Like home.

Soon, friends would join me. Friends of all kinds.

Maggots. Worms. Cockroaches. Crawling on my skin.

I liked the company as much as I enjoyed the scent of blood.

When I was bored, I would nibble on his skin until it turned to dust. I was probably helped by the overwhelming rot taking over his corpse.

Finally, it was time to get rid of his cadavre as my mother was starting to become suspicious of the intense stench coming from my room.

She was used to the scent of my bodily fluids residing in my closet, especially one I didn’t know the name of at the time but knew felt like Heaven.

A white sticky liquid, solidifying on surfaces it was left on.

What I learned was named cum. But we’ll discuss this discovery later.

My mother knew that smell all too well, but I imagine the scent of her decaying husband was probably new to her.

[kpophusband]

The Tale of Threesomes

The first thing Sejeong realizes when she woke up besides the throbbing between her legs and her nudity was that she’s isn’t in her own bed before remembering whose bed she was in. She looks behind her to see her best friend Jihyo and Jihyo’s husband, Leon, appearing sound asleep and as nude as she was underneath the sheet. Though a part of Leon was awake as his 9 inch cock stood at attention. Sejeong, quietly as possible, removed the sheet from her body, moved around to a sitting position where she looked around for her clothes and climbed out of the bed when saw them. As Sejeong bent over to picked up her clothes and walked into the bathroom, she didn’t see that Jihyo had opened her eyes. Sejeong had placed her clothes on top of the closed toilet and shut her eyes to wash her face of the sleep and cum from her face. When she opened her eyes and moved to grab her disposable toothbrush, she saw through the mirror, Jihyo standing as naked as she was at the moment. Jihyo was smiling and walked over to her and grabbed her into a hug, their breasts pressed against each other. Jihyo pulled back and said.

“Thank you for participating in this for me, for our 4th wedding anniversary, I wanted something special for the nightly activity.” Sejeong just smiled and laughed.

“Of course, I’m glad to help, besides you and Leon already had threesomes with the other members of your group and wanted something different. Besides I’m pretty sure Leon would be okay with sharing you with me and Eric when the time comes.”

Jihyo nodded and smiled. Leon and she had at least one threesome with other eight members of the group with Tzuyu and Chaeyoung being the most. Sejeong put her her bra and panties back on after borrowing a wash rag from Jihyo to clean up her pussy. Jihyo just nodded and went back to bed with Leon still asleep as Sejeong walked out the bedroom quietly and left the apartment after grabbing her purse. Sejeong waved over and climbed into the next taxi that came over. 30 minutes later and paying the taxi driver, Sejeong walked into her and Eric’s apartment to see Eric sitting shirtless at the counter, drinking a cup of coffee. Eric looked over to her and smiled before getting up and hugging her. Sejeong smiled and buried her face into his chest, smelling his after sex musk.

“Well, someone didn’t shower yet.”

“I was going to wait till you got home, so we can have some fun, how was your night?” Eric asked with a smirk.

“It was good, Jihyo and Leon were accommodating, and yours?” Sejeong said as the their bedroom door opened and out came Chungha and Inah, Chungha just gave a smirk before coming over to both Sejeong and Eric and gave them a kiss on the cheek and sat down. Inah giving a small smile before doing the same. Eric winked to Sejeong before smacking Inah’s ass, who let out a squeal and glared at him as she rubbed her ass. Chungha let out a chuckle before informing Sejeong in a whisper.

“Eric took her anal virginity.” Sejeong eyes widened as looked over the Inah, knowing how she felt when Eric took her anal virginity. Eric isn’t small either, being 8 inches, but is was his girth of 5 inches that usually made anal hard the first couple times. So for him to take Inah’s anal virginity was kinda a big deal.

“Inah, I thought you said you weren’t going to do anal until you were married.” Inah only glared at Chungha, who only held her hands up and bashfully smiled.

“Blame her, she said I shouldn’t wait till I was married, that way I wouldn’t disappoint my husband.” Inah then glared at Eric before saying. “But I forgot about how thick he was until he had his cock half in.”

Sejeong smacked both Eric and Chungha as both of them had started to chuckle more. Chungha just shook her head and responded.

“Hey, I ate her out while Eric fucked her ass, to keep her calm and loose to make it easier for her. Anyways we have to get going again or we’ll be late for meeting with Doyeon and Yoojung about the project.” Chungha got up from the chair and grabbed Inah by the hand to pull her out the door. As Inah waved as the door shut, Sejeong turned towards Eric, gave him a smile as she grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the bathroom.

“I think it’s time for my turn now.”

[milady-pink]

Waitress AU

Warnings: Food/baking, domestic abuse, unplanned pregnancy, cheating

Summary: Working at a dead end job, waitress Christine soon finds herself with a new problem: an unplanned pregnancy. Life is all about trying to find the sweet spots and luckily this pie genius has a new (and pretty adorkably sexy) OBGYN, who isn’t too happy at home either.

TL;DR Quirky cute and sexy Erik as a doctor, lab coat and all.

Word Count: 1058 || Graphics: @firefly-graphics

"The Negative "

Recipe Book

AO3

“What the hell are y’all doin’?” 

“This is a female emergency, Piangi! Your testosterone filled mind wouldn’t comprehend.” Replied Meg, said with not a drop of hostility.

Huffing out a frustrated breath from the antics of his waitstaff. Crossing his hairy arms he calls into the women’s bathroom, “There’s no one on the floor! Am I gonna have to put on a waitress uniform myself?” 

Poking her red-beehive out, Carlotta responds, “The blue would do numbers for your figure”, before closing the door once again.

Brows furrowed in anger, Piangi threatens the girls. “Need I remind you that I can fire your ass—”

“Sorry Piangi we can’t hear you—water’s running”, Carlotta cuts him off.

At the end of his wit, the chef tries one last time to regain control of the situation. “Get out here! I am only gonna say it once….This is the last time I’ll say it!” Walking away, defeated, he lets out an aggravated, “dammit”. 

Back behind his grill, he cocks the antics of his female workers as hysteria.

Now that the three light-blue dressed women were alone, Carlotta once again presented the pregnancy test to Christine, with Meg right there filling up a disposable cup with sink water.

“I gotta get back to my table” she trains to reason, wanting to be in any other musty, dimly-lit bathroom than this one.

Not having any of it, Carlotta crosses her arms and snarks, “Chrissy, it’s time.”

“You’ve been nauseous every mornin’ this week,and its only Wednesday.” Pipes in Meg, offering her the water.

Realizing she won’t be getting out anytime soon, Christine shared,”I don’t wanna know”, in a mumble.

“You’ve waited too long as it is.” Pushed Carlotta.

“It might just be a fluke! Don’tcha wanna know?” Asked Meg.

After some time of considering things, Christine took the test reluctantly, and went into one of the stalls shutting the door behind her. She heard Meg say in concern, “I hope you drank enough” through the metal door. 

“Ya ever done one of these before?” Questioned Carlotta from the sinks. 

“No”

The redhead points her nail file at Meg. “Read the instructions to her”, she told the blonde.

Squinting her eyes to read the fine printing on the pink and blue box, Meg started. “Se puede saber la duración—”

Carlotta quickly cut her off. “English, Meg, English!”

“Oh”, she exclaimed, “do not insert the test stick into your vagina!” She replied, happy to be of service.

“Thanks”, snarked the older woman, earning her a gleeful smile in return. She turns her attention to the waitress in the stall, “How did this happen anyway?”

“Yeah”, joined Meg, “I thought you didn’t sleep with your husband much nowadays?”

“Uh—well, it was after that girl’s night, few weeks ago, and I was wearing that stupid red dress.” Christine groaned, frustrated from her past behavior. Hindsight is 20/20.

“Oh! I love that red dress—the way it shines in the light! Reminds me of those figure skatin’ outfits they wear on TV!” Trailed off Meg, easily distracted by the smallest details.

Carlotta, not one to forget the catastrophe at hand, grabs Meg by the shoulders and shakes her. “Focus Megan!”

“Anyway”, continued Christine, used to her friends’ antics, “I came home and he was sittin’ on the couch with two beers. He got me drunk and, next thing led to another….Now I’m sittin’ on the toilet tryin’ to accurately pee on a piece of plastic.”

Trying to be helpful, the blonde questions aloud, “Maybe his ‘boys’ don’t swim as well as they used to, ya know?”

“Or maybe my life is ruined because of one stupid mistake.” Christine asks as she opens the door to her stall, leaving its confines; pregnancy test in hand.

“Or, you’re perfectly fine and just gotta head cold! One night is hardly enough time for… that.” She emphasized by staring at Christine’s stomach.

Rolling her eyes, she hands the stick back over to Carlotta. “Now what?”

“Now, we wait.” Making her point clear by starting the timer on her watch for three minutes. All three girls watch Carlotta place the test on the sink, window side down. 

“Gah, my mind is racing! I feel like I can’t breathe, I’m panicking real bad!” Christine discloses to her two closest friends.

“Everything will be okay, what’s the worst that could happen?” Meg asked the other two.

Carlotta decided to answer her while Christine paced back-and-forth in the small restroom. “Well, Chrissy could get stuck with a parasite that she won’t be able to get rid of until the thing’s eighteen years old!” As she spoke her voice steadily rose until almost screaming at the last word.

“Oh”

“Yeah”

Fed up with how her friends were speaking as if she wasn’t in the same room, and whose life was really at stake, she decided to break their bickering. “Enough! The only way I’m gonna survive this won’t be with you two going on and on.” By now she had stopped pacing, choosing instead to stand in one place with her hands on her cheeks, eyes closed and head pointed upwards. “Dear God, send me a sign that these three minutes in the women’s restroom at the diner with these two crazies,” this earned her offended looks from her colleagues, “be the last few minutes of peace in my life.”

The other girls, who had watched their friend say a desperate prayer, each mumbled a quiet, “amen”.

Taking a deep breath, Christine crossed her arms over her stomach and looks to Carlotta. “How much longer?” 

As the redhead opened her mouth to speak, her watch’s timer went off giving Christine her answer. All three restroom occupants looked towards the test sitting on the sink ledge, then to the woman of the hour who had to live with whatever results it gave. 

Slowly walking over to the sink, getting a pat on the arm from Meg as she went, Christine looked down at the test, then back up at the mirror in front of her. Picking up the test, window side still down, she closes her eyes and flips the stick over. With a final breath of air, she opens her eyes and looks at the test’s answers. Seeing the result, she makes eye contact with herself through the mirror and lets out a sigh.

“Shit.”

[gayerthanevertbh]

𝐢𝐯𝐲 | 𝐧.𝐫.

request by anon: im once again asking for 1800s natasha jealous of reader’s husband based on ivy by ms swift (anything for dr swift!)

pairings: natasha romanoff x fem!reader (based on a late 1800s)

summary: you were natasha’s poison and the fact that the man you ‘love’ has you completely, it questions her on why can’t she have you instead? 

warnings: none but fluffiness (i think) and a tinge of smut but it’s not too descriptive, like not at all. 

author’s note: thank you for requesting this! i hope this is what you wanted and i really tried my best to make it accurate as possible *crying* but anyways, enjoy!

word count: 2.1k

main masterlist

Natalia, known as Natalia, was in love with you. It was hard to dispose of it, rather feeling this way for a woman is a sinful matter that she cannot get away with. And she presumably thinks that she could be a better husband than Alexis was.

Alexis Knightly was never home, rarely home in all honesty. You weren’t thinking well enough to see the reason why you were going to marry the wealthiest man in town, and yet here you are, waiting for him to come home – which is most likely not to happen. You sat by the window with a holder of your cigarette that was in between your lips, inhaling slightly to feel the smoke coming through your throat tightly.

“Lady Knightly, I do think he’s not–”

You cut the maid off, politely as you can, “I’d rather not hear your significance.”

The maid laughs nervously, afraid enough to say something more, and excused herself, apologizing. You nodded and waited for the door to be closed so that you could let out the tears that were in your eyes for too long. You sobbed until it was late evening and drifted off to sleep, trying to forget the mist of your love for a man who never came home.

The next morning, you were told that Lady Romanoff was going to visit you briefly. She was a good friend of yours, your companion before Alexis; on a friendly matter. You wore a simple beige dress that was the length all the way up to your breasts that took hold comfortably. You were supposed to get another cigarette, but you heard your maid saying, “Lady Romanoff is here. Shall I bring her to your room?”

“That would be delightful, thank you Jane.” Reply to her meekly with a tight-lip smile on your face. As you waited, you fixed promptly on your small desk, throwing off the sheets of paper that were supposed to be your love letters for the man, and flinched when you hear the door open once more; turning as you see Natasha with a luminously smile on her beautiful face.

“Y/N,” spoke Natasha with an altered tone; hugging you tightly while you can feel her hand grazing on your lower back, rather feeling too comfortable by the touch. “I have occurred to know that your husband is not home.”

“It’s not such a big problem,” you say, feeling embarrassed by your defeated tone.

“It is.”

Natasha loathes Alexis, even when you first met him. The way he would blushingly kiss the palm of your hand makes her angry, envying the man more than she could ever do to anyone. He was a gentleman at first, always knowing where you are and giving you the most fabulous gifts that you could ever hope for. But you never intently needed them. You simply want time with the man you love.

And for Natasha, that’s something she could ever give to a woman like you.

“Your husband is never home, I suggest having a departure would be an excellent idea,” complained Natasha with a grumble in her tone that you heard from afar. You couldn’t help but slightly tilt your head as you can sense her jealousy–was it even jealousy? Surely, you were dreaming. It probably wasn’t even jealousy, more like a worried friend.

“Do you think I deserve better?”

“He claims that your his and took advantage of what’s yours,” replied Natasha while putting her black coat on her arm, chuckling to herself as she tapped her foot on the ground. “He married you for a reason. To love and care for you; to give you everything you want in life. And yet, he’s not here to do that. Could there be a reason for his absences?”

“I would not like to think he’s having an affair with someone else,” you replied with a mumble as you sat on the foot of your mattress, sighing audibly while you had your facepalmed.

“Oh, I strongly believe that.”

“What?”

"I may have witnessed another woman having a conversation with him," said Natasha with a memory of her catching a man who was enlightened by another woman's company. "I think he is committing to something horrible."

The door opens unexpectedly as you turn your head, a smile erupts on your face once you see your husband walking in with a tired drunk face. Was he at the gathering again? He’s always like this; he never opted to change.

“My beautiful Knightly,” profound he says as he grabs you by the waist, kissing your lips with hunger. Natasha then twitches her face with jealousy and looks away. “I have missed–”

“You were away for 20 hours.”

He laughs a little, avoiding the situation at hand. “My wife has gone mad, has she?”

Natasha remembers extensively the times when you would blush whenever Alexis would give you the tiniest attention. He was the ivy that you were gone to obsess with; it made her insane to think that she’ll ever have a chance with you, but she can only look from afar and adore you in a way he could never do.

“I don’t think it’s appropriate for you to say that,” said Natasha while her eyes were still stained to the rug, not daring to look up. Alexis drops his hand onto my waist and takes a slight step forward toward Natasha, scoffing with his mouth open.

“My, are you being a prude today?”

“Was I?” returned Natasha, with slight dignity. “Well then, explain to your wife why you have been gone this long?”

“Nat–”

She cuts you off while fiercely looking into the man’s hazel eyes, taking a step forward so she could meet his hard gaze. “If you are committing adultery behind the woman you’re supposed to love then I suggest you tell her.”

“This is absurd!” says Alexis with a defense. Then, he points his finger at the woman and said something in a demanding tone: “If you ever say that again, I will shove an entire sword inside your–”

“That’s enough! Both of you!” you exclaimed and took your husband’s wrist, pulling him away from Natasha who seemed to be angry as he was. He then slipped off his wrist and stomped on the door, wooshing it open, and yelled with an exclamation:

“I better not see this woman when I get back!”

As soon as the door closes, you hit Natasha softly on her left shoulder, shaking your head as a fight occurred in your room. You said, “That wasn’t nice, Natasha.”

“He’s committing adultery behind your back!”

“How do you know that?” you said with an observed tone and sat back on the mattress, sighing rather loudly. You looked down and grabbed the hem of your dress, pulling it up until you were resting on the middle of the bed, still looking at Natasha with your eyes.

“May I confess?”  asked Natasha, with a reproving look at you. “But, I think going to the woods will be appropriate for me to say my confession, as I am not comfortable here.”

“If you must.”

She took you to the woods that were far away from your home as her hand was held onto yours, squeezing it once you made your way to the spot that you and Natasha share whenever both of you are having mild problems or even bigger than that. You sat down on the log, grunting when you felt a little pain behind your back. Your dress was quite heavy, to be exact.

Natasha wore flimsy pants with her white-cotton long sleeve that was tucked inside it. The woman looked boyish but feminine in a kind of way that was alluring. She puts a strand of her red hair behind her ear and sits down immediately beside you with a long groan.

“I apologize for my childlessness,” said Natasha, regretting her tone. “I envy your husband.”

“How come?”

She takes a long deep breath and crept her hand to yours, holding it that makes your skin flinch in a good way. “Because I hope–I wish that it was me. And I know that it’s merely wrong, that’s always been stuck in my head but I cannot help myself anymore.”

“Natasha–wait, what do you mean by that?” you asked while feeling the flutter in your heart.

If you were honest with yourself, you have these slight feelings toward the woman whenever she was with you. She did more than your husband could. She brought you to the finest places and both stayed there for as long as you wanted, she listened to you carefully as you tell her your complaints about being a wife and how hard it is to wait for the man you used to love. Was it sinful as you felt this was that was so undeniable? Could it harm being a catholic? But what occurs in your head is why is feeling for a woman that could be that wrong? It’s just the same as loving a man, but a woman. It’s rather the same thing if you think about it.

She turns your face with her hands cupped to your cheek, smiling sheepishly once her eyes falter to your mouth that was gaped slightly. Natasha thumbs your left cheek, whispering with such ease: “You are beautiful, Y/N. The most beautiful one out there. I have waited so long to hold your face like this, for me to be this close. I can’t help but say that I am in love with you, and I know that’s wrong. But I’d die if you had no idea how much I feel for you and to hold you like this.”

You watch her lips get close until she kisses you with her lip grazing against your bottom one. She brings her other hand to your nape and pulls you closer, her lips tucked into yours as you mewled got her more possessive as she slips her tongue inside your mouth, moaning softly when she can feel your tongue touching hers gracefully.

“My, you are such a good kisser,” said Natasha, with pure lust and adoration. Her forehead touches yours while her hands hold your waist gently. You couldn’t help but whisper:

“I feel the same way,” there was no shame in that. It took you this long for you to realize that you’re in love with Natasha as much as she was in love with you. It took you a decade just for you to feel her lips grazing on yours. Was this an ethereal dream? Sure, it was. Even then, you would not like to waste your time. So, you pulled her in and kissed her lips hungrily, your tongue on the roof of her mouth.

“I love you,” you say with such a whisper that she could feel her stomach drop with blissfulness. “I am in love with you too. I think I only married my husband because I could not take hold of my feelings for you, so I thought distracting myself with a man could help; but it did not. In fact, it grew stronger.”

“You are not being serious, dorogoya,” whispered Natasha, her mouth above yours; “You are the love of my life, I cannot begin to say how happy I am when you confess to me.”

She kisses your mouth once more until her hand is cupped against your left cheek, pulling your entire hips against hers as your kisses grow with more lust, desperation, and appalling. The woman presses her other hand against your right breast as you let out a light moan that was in between her lips; she chuckles deeply with her voice.

“Let us run away,” suggested Natasha while pulling your hips closer to her pelvis. “I’ll make you the happiest woman. I’ll give you everything you want, just say–Mmph–say yes, please my love.”

The truth is, there is nothing glamorous that you want except her. Everyone will think it’s an abomination of your undying love for the woman, but no one would have to know. It could just be you and her, running away from the people who ought to despise both of you. And even if they did, would you care? Simply no. Because you have her as much as she has you.

“Yes, Natasha. I love the thought of it.”

She made love to you on the soil of the earth, naked. Her lips were all over your neck that was prickled with dirt but she didn’t care, all she wanted was to finally have you and you were aptly present to her.

The truth is, Natasha was your poison as she was yours. But in such a compelling way that it cannot be that awful to feel. She always thinks to herself that no one else could see you other than her; and that's selfish of Natasha, but who else could blame her?

"I love you," says Natasha, kissing your sweaty forehead. "You're my ivy. My poison. But, I'm so deep into it that I cannot get out. Would it be alright if I never got out? Feed me with your undying love; I want it so badly."

"Do you feel like this is wrong?" you asked while you could feel her lips trailing down your chin, humming quietly as she thought of your words.

"Sometimes," responded Natasha with a sultry whisper. "But, it feels right; doesn't it?"

[tteokdoroki]

saccahrine sundays | k.bakugou

♡ pairing: katsuki bakugou x fem!reader.

♡ word count: 5.3K

♡ rating: mature, 18+, mdni.

♡ genre: pro hero!au, married!au, fluff + smut.

♡ summary: katsuki can never find enough time to get some sleep. between being a full time pro hero, a father and a husband— hours of rest are hard to come by. unless it’s one of those sweet, sweet saccharine sundays.

♡ warning(s): please read ! heavy smut, pwp ( characters aged up to late twenties ), somnophilia, unprotected sex ( wrap it before you tap it, kids ), fingering ( female recieving ), tummy bulges, mating press, pregnancy!kink, daddy!kink, breeding!kink, light!exhibitionism, cumplay + needy bakugou has a praise!kink... <3

♡ author’s note(s): brrr hey guys! it feels like forever since i last posted a full fic, january was bleh so im happy to get this out !! special thanks to @greenchild for feeding me this idea and thank to all of you for your love, support and 2.8K. i love you all, enjoy <3

♡ masterlist | requests

katsuki bakugou couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten a full nights sleep. between being a pro hero and family life, the full eight to nine hours of pure rest wasn’t easy to come by— now he wasn’t complaining, he was far too grateful for the life he lead to whinge and whine about the finer details. bakugou was right on track to becoming the number two, he had a beautiful wife who loved him and supported him no matter how reckless he might have been and two little brats that he adored more than anything. he was miles ahead of his high school classmates, never letting up or resting so like he said, there was no room to complain.

but even as the faintest wisps of light slip through drawn curtains and a vermillion gaze settled on the old all might digital alarm clock ( reading 9:01 AM ), katsuki bakugou can’t help but feel grateful for the sleep he just had. no interruptions from wailing toddlers or infants who need changing, no late night call ins for patrols— none of that, just an arm around his wife’s waist and the soft sound of her breathing to coax him out of his sleepy state.

bakugou remembers now, a distant yet far from faint memory of where he and his wife spent two days of their honeymoon under slumber’s spell, having ravished each other the very night they arrived in paris for their honeymoon ( all mina’s idea, she had told katsuki it was the perfect destination for newly weds in love— and whilst the several districts his alien friend recommended did appease you, the blonde had promised to take you on a more luxurious getaway when he was hire up in the hero rankings ). of course that very honeymoon lead you to fall pregnant with your first little miracle— taiga bakugou, the very spitting image of her father except or the slight tilt to her nose and the sparkle in her eye that only her mother possessed.

raising her had proven to be both an enjoyable and exhausting experience for katsuki, with a matching explosive personality to rival even her daddy’s— there were many restless nights the pro hero spent butting heads with his daughter while his sweet spouse was away on missions and getting used to the field again. even during the pregnancy, full nights of rest were little to none— the cravings taiga gave you were almost unbearable for the blonde, not to mention the 2AM labour his little girl put you through...and yet he would repeat the last four years of lack of sleep all over again if it meant reliving every single moment with you. raising tatsumo was much better; however.

so as the weight of well deserved slumber lifts from katsuki’s shoulder’s he’s forced to deal with the memories of your sweet cries from the night (or rather, nights) he made you his wife. he stirs under cotton sheets, a familiar hardness pressing against his inner thigh as he recalls the way you tightened around him— “honey baby,” the desperate whisper tastes foreign, bitter across his tastebuds as he licks his lips. katsuki was usually much more composed when it came to sex, he could hold out for hours while you pleaded and begged of him to give you more. but this morning was different, very much so.

skilfully, the ash blonde slips a hand between your sheets, finger tips calloused with years of training and battle, dancing up your bare thighs from where you wear only his shirt and a pair of panties. the fingers trail up to your underwear, pressing them against your cunt as bakugou watches your face for any reaction— you twitch once before falling back into a deep slumber, letting your husband know that he can continue. he peels like orange silk away from your core and down your legs, half resisting the urge to sniff your undergarment like the dirty man he is but he decides that he can longer wait, already turned on by the feeling of your bare pussy against his hand.

the pro knows exactly how to turn you on, dragging is nails down your thighs just an inch from your wetness and his mind fogs with lust at the thought of the sounds you’d make for him if you were awake...not yet, he says to himself. his next move is to fuck your mouth, two of his digits sliding past parted lips from where you snore— gathering the drool that pools on the surface of your tongue. back and forth; move bakugou’s fingers until he’s satisfied with how wet you’ve made them with your spit. returning those very same fingers to your cunt, he parts your folds— already slightly sticky and hot with the nectar he’s used to savouring. if this were any other time, bakugou would be eating you out like a man starved of his last three meals but the rising sun tells him that his moments to fuck you are very few.

so now, he slides those lubed up fingers right into your tight little hole, shuddering under the sheets at how you automatically clamp around him— even while you sleep. katsuki’s vermillion eyes seek out your face in the warm light of the dusk, watching as your expression contorts into that familiar look of pleasure— lips blossoming into a cherry pout, brows furrowed as if you’re focusing on the way your husband makes you feel.

“fuck, honey baby, so good ‘n pliant for me even when yur fuckin’ sleepin’,” katsuki slurs against saliva that slips along his tongue, he’s hungry to fuck you, make you moan and scissors his fingers deep inside your obedient cunt in away that makes your slumbering body jump. pressing a thumb to your neglected clit, bakugou twists his fingers in search for your g-spot, pumping them into you with vigour. “gonna make you cum angel, baby, please cum while you’re like this s’you can take my cock.”

if there’s one thing pro hero dynamite knows, it’s that your body is a slave to him, no matter what state it’s in. your thighs part instinctively; giving your husband room to curl his fingers and press down hard on your pleasure spot— gummy walls sucking him in deeper. he makes you cum while you sleep, juices staining  your supple skin, honeyed from the warm light outside.

“atta girl, cummin’ for your husband like that even when you’re sleeping— so fuckin’ naughty...” katsuki grunts, locks of sun kissed hair beginning to plaster itself against his forehead. his body shakes with the desire to be inside of you, his internal temperature rising with every second that he’s not sheathed within your walls. pulling his fingers away from your twitching mound, bakugou slides them, cum soaked and all, into his mouth to taste your very sweetness. “would eatcha out like a starved man, honeybee, but we don’t gotta lot of time left baby...”

with that, bakugou shuffles his sweats down enough for his cock to spring free, tip bright red and leaking against his toned, scarred abdomen. with practised ease, he hooks your right leg over his waist and positions your dripping cunny right over the head of his length. it takes everything katsuki has not to plunge deep inside of you, to abuse your tempting cunt until it’s formed into the shape of his cock but for once he wants to take you slowly, enjoy his time with your limp body at his disposal.

pressing his girth against your slick entrance, your husband sighs, coating himself with the remainders of your delightful release. the mess you made just for him, makes it easier for him to guide his cock between your velveteen folds that take him so well. his free hand comes up to brush over your cheek and even in the depths of your rest you manage to nuzzle into katsuki’s palm and make his coo— what a precious little doll you are, so good for him and always so obedient no matter what state you’re in. fuck, it drives him so insane that he can’t even think straight.

“...suki....”

fucking hell. the way you sigh out for him so mawkishly whilst you dream makes him twitch, not even half the way inside you.  “c’mon honey baby, don’t go moanin’ my name like that when i haven’t even had a c-chance to make you mine yet—“ the blonde shudders, eyes screwing shut as he finally bottoms out inside of you. katsuki let’s out a choked moan, from deep within his chest while you welcome him into your lethally syrupy cunt. “ohh, fuck, that’s the stuff, good girl...”

bakugou’s thrusts start slow yet, forcing your limp body to jolt up the bed and your tits to bounce in tune with the rhythm of his hips— your little hole sucks him in so greedily, so selfishly, clamping down on him as if to prevent him from leaving your body as a whole. pro hero dynamite is shaken to his core, how can his precious baby take him so darlingly while she’s asleep, refusing to let go of him and keep his cock tucked away inside of you.

shit, shit, shit.

he wants to defile you, asleep or not, ruin how pure and angelic your body appears even after years of being together. it’s your fault he’s like this anyway, you deserve to have your pussy destroyed no matter the circumstances— ruby framed eyes threaten to roll back into his skull while bakugou picks up the swirl of his hips between your sticky thighs, you flutter and squeeze around the girth that’s stretched you out so many times before and yet you still remain a tight hole designed for your husband and your husband alone.

lips map their way up the column of your neck, committing every dip and scar and blemish to memory even though katsuki knows where each of them are. the amber colour of the morning sun highlights each of your marks, your husband giving you as many lovebites to match each one. “nn, suki...more..” you whimper, so quiet he almost misses it underneath the sound of wet skin slapping against wet skin. could you feel how he deflowered you in your sleep? ruining such a good girl while you resting? he wants so bad to corrupt you from the inside.

static stretches across katsuki’s brain, crackling as his neurones fire and dopamine fizzes in his veins. cum. cum. breed her. it’s too soon but the blonde can’t help it, pent up and high on the morning sunrise— addicted to the taste of your skin licked with light perspiration. it’s been ages since he’s had you like this, can you blame him for not hanging on so long? bakugou lifts your thigh higher on his waist, using it as leverage to plough into the deepest parts of you, his precious wife, desperate to cream inside you before wake up.

“mm, know you’re close lovebug, won’t you cum for me suki?”

katsuki’s gaze hones in on you, vision blurred and hazy with lust from his impending orgasm. your own eyes are heavy with sleep but the soft smile on your face is filled with a familiar adoration and saccharine love that the blonde can never get tired of. he knows that you know your voice alone is another to send him speeding off of the cliff of release— your hole squeezing around him, beautiful hips that once brought his children into the world gracefully moving up and down to coax his girthy cock to its final release.

“honey baby,” katsuki whines like a broken man when you cup his face, hot puffs of air warming up the space between you.  his hips don’t let up though, driven by the way you move against him beneath the sheets, he’s so close he can almost taste it. “c-couldn’t wait for you to wake up, needed you so fuckin’ bad...”

your mouth hangs open in a quiet groan, getting lost in the claps of sweaty bodies against one another and katsuki latches onto your lower lips to swallow your noise— breathing it in and letting it spread through his body like oxygen. “oh, lovebug, y-you don’t...” you pause, eyes rolling to the back of your head as the angry tip of your husband’s cock grazes against your gummy spot, sending your walls into a flurry of flutters that make katsuki twitch. “ ...you don’t ever have to wait with me, d-don’t hold back, kay?”

you’re a breathless mess, a sight to behold and he can’t take not having you filled with his seed any longer. the lazy push and pull of your bodies smacking wetly against each other become erratic thrusts, heat pooling in the abdomen of the pro hero boiling him alive in feelings of desire for you and you alone.

bakugou quivers from his lips to his toes when he cums, filling your slippery walls with a creamy white and lining your insides with the claim of your man. your man. your husband. “fuck, fucking hell,  h-honey, gimme that pussy...gimmie that fuckin’ pussy,” his groans linger in the crisp early morning air, dancing with the static while he orgasms within you, endless bouts of white stuffing you to the brim. you kiss in an attempt to calm him, squeezing around his thick cock to ride out his high. you taste of orange liquor  and manuka honey, addicting while he sucks lavishly on your tongue and spares you the air you need to breathe. ‘cause at the end of the day call you need is him.

“did you cum, precious one?” ever the gentleman, katsuki has to ask but even you can see in his blood red ruby eyes ( no matter how tired they may seem ) that he’s gearing up for a second round, shallow thrusts pushing his own release  deeper into your fertile womb. there’s about thirty minutes until the kids wake up, but your lover can make you see stars in fifteen.

you shake your head once as bakugou rolls you onto your back— strong arms caging you into the prison if his love. large hands dance tenderly up the back of your thighs and you meet his eyes with such a saccharine smile his heart bursts at the sight of you. “you’re insatiable, lovebug,” the tingling notes of your moan caresses bakugou’s cheek as he manoeuvres your legs to fold you into a mating press, shifting his weight above you. “did you really need me that much, daddy bear?”

“think y’already know the answer to that, honeybee,” katsuki drawls, tripping over his words filled, oh so generously with blazing desire. he still remains sheathed inside you, a darling whine dripping from his cherry lined lips— the ones sore from kissing you— as he gives an experimental thrust into the tight heat of your core. you accept him willingly, opening up for him like a blossoming flower which makes katsuki’s hot breath stutter from the overstimulation. neither of you can look away, sharing the intimate moment of his length sinking into you— katsuki groans as you suck him in inch by inch before leaning over and attaching his lips to yours, licking at the seam of them in order to coax them open. his wife is a tease however; denying him the pleasure of sucking on her tongue...for now at least.

but it’s all worth it, for katsuki wants to burn the erotic sight of you beneath him into his mind forever. your skin shines like it was kissed by the setting moon, eyes hooded and holding a lust that only burns brightly for him while your chest heaves in anticipation of your husband claiming you for the second time that morning. “m-move suki, please—c-can’t...” the tail end of your pleas fall away with the fading night sky.

the man doesn’t need to be told twice.

save for a few shallow thrusts to get going, katsuki soon finds himself pistoning into you at an unruly, god speed pace. the blonde revels in the way one hand of yours twirls strands of his hair between your fingers whilst the other digs crescent moons into his blemished honey skin. helpless huffs and candied cries tickle bakugou’s ears while he presses your body flush against his and pins you down with his hips.

their movements don’t ever waver, cock catching on every ridge your damp pussy has to offer him, each thrust calculated amplify your pleasure that rolls in heatwaves throughout your body. katsuki’s mind grows blank, thick with the mirage you’ve cast over him from the way you push back against him, taking more of his inches into you.

“ngh, lovebug,” you say, high off of euphoria while katsuki’s leaking cock bears down harshly on your g-spot and you smile up at him deliriously— looking like the eighth wonder of the world. you grab the hand your husband uses to keep your thighs up and bring it down to your tummy for him to feel what you feel. “can feel your cock inside me, love, so big...makin’ my tummy bulge like a good daddy bear...”

something snaps within katsuki at the sound of your breathless praise; a feral blaze setting alight deep inside his chest— spreading throughout his body as his cock drives deeper and deeper inside your spongy, wet cunt— just about breaching the gates of your cervix. breed her. fuck her. make her swollen with your cum. bakugou can’t even think straight; intoxicated by the way you move against him, the way you look so full of him and his thick length.

he wants you to look full all of the time. so katsuki does with the only way he knows how. dropping his head to your neck, sharp attack your neck with blossoms of bruises forming under your skin in the name of love— you whine, a gorgeous symphony of his name against his ear while you tangle your fingers in the baby hairs at the nape of his neck. “y’can’t jus...jus say stuff like that to me, honey...” bakugou croons against your skin, screwing his eyes shut while his hips pick up the pace and plunging his length right into your womb. the sounds of your arousal wetly spill into the sex scented air— fuelling katsuki to thrust into you faster. “not if you...n-not if you don’t want me to fuck another one of those shitty brats into you.”

as stuttered as his words are, bakugou means every single one of them. a primal desire activates in the back of his mind, overriding every single of senses. just the thought of lining your womb with his pungent seed, making you pregnant once again and seeing you round and full with katsuki’s child is enough to drive him off of the rails. And the pro hero knows that you feel the same, he can tell by the way your heat clamps down on his cock and strangles him, as if to milk him of every ounce of his cum.

“yes, want you to make me pregnant suki, make me a mommy again, please—!”  you simper out loud, desperate tears springing to your eyes while the bed groans beneath you. visions of you round and swollen with a baby drives him to thrust into you harder, faster so that more and more of his precum spills into you. “know you want it, want it too...your cum, deep inside me—ohmygod suki—yes!”

bakugou slaps a hand over your mouth, watching as your sweet doe eyes brim with tears at the languid roll of his hips against yours. “careful honeybee, don’t want the kids to...fuckin’ hell... h-hear—“ he stutters, eyes rolling, limbs shaking violently. his other hand drops between your conjoined bodies, drawing vicious circles into your swollen clit to draw you closer and closer to the edge. star dust is littered behind your eyes, the bright white signifying the race to your high that only katsuki can give to you. “or do you want to be heard, you want everyone to hear how full you’re gonna become when i get you pregnant again. how you’ll whine and beg me to suck on your tits when you start makin’ that sweet milk for our baby. is that what you fuckin’ want, yn?”

you can’t help the way your pussy flutters around his cock that brutally grazes your g-spot— the dirty words your husband speaks like music to your ears. a symphony with his moans and the sounds of his balls slapping against your bare ass.  “oooh, shit baby, you must do with the way your lil cunny clamps down on me—just like that...”

“oh god, lovebug please...cum...cum! need it daddy bear—can’t take it anymore,” you babble against katsuki’s hand, brain turning to mush at the unbearable pleasure. the knot in your tummy becomes tighter, close to snapping as the white light of pleasure clouds your view.

patterns drawn diligently against your clit speed up; turning to quick figure of eights to tease your orgasm. “‘course you fuckin’ do honey baby, my little breeding bitch. my sweet little wife who can’t wait to be a mommy again. take this cock, you dirty whore. take it and I’ll give you my fuckin’ baby.” bakugou slurs, losing all control as the pace of his hips begins to falter. you can feel his dick twitching inside of you, tip pulsing with the need to paint your insides.

your gazes lock within the frenzy, while your back arches and hips lift to take your husband deeper inside you. dynamite is feral like you’ve never seen before; an animal reduced purely back to instinct. unfocused red eyes become teary like your own with hot pleasure while they lock onto you but you know that behind lust; loved the adoration and love your husband holds for you. thats all you need to reach the edge and tumble into your orgasm,

it takes but a few more thrusts and a pinch to your clit before you’re cumming— release squirting out and splattering against bakugou’s toned abdomen.

the blonde never lets up while you cum undone on his iron hot rod, letting him pump into you with unrelenting feverishness. katsuki is desperate, needing an extra push even with you strangling his cock with your insides. “s-say you’ll make your daddy a daddy baby, say you’ll give me another fucking kid. fuck, fuck yeah...please honey baby—“ bakugou damn near sobs, trembling violently above you as his breath hitches with ever hiccup.

smiling gently, you pull his head to your neck, cradling your husband while his pace slows to circular grinds. “i’ll make you a daddy again, you can cum for me now lovebug...”

“shit, shit, oh god— cummin’...” thats all bakugou needs to hear before bottoming out inside of your abused hole—  screaming against your bitten flesh and forcing his cock into your fertile womb as he sprays with his thick, sticky seed. white coats every ridge and crevice of your pussy while impatient thrusts slow to sensual grinds. you feel the tears of neediness soak the supple skin of your neck, rocking your hips against katsuki to milk his cock for all it’s worth— even if slow waves of his cum seep down your folds and to the sheets below.

“g’morning, katsuki,” you sigh blissfully, fingers combing through your lover’s sweaty mop of sun kissed locks. the pair of you lie still, limbs still intertwined as you catch your breath under the orange hues of the light outside.

your husband shifts his head to look at you, eyelids heavy over blood red eyes with a satisfied look on his face. he’ll never get over having you all to himself first thing in the morning— katsuki bakugou will always consider that a luxury and as he looks to you, a great smile soon takes his features. “yeah...good fucking morning to you too, angel face,” bakugou doesn’t dare pull out of you, intent on keeping his word. “love you yn, you’re always so good to me...”

katsuk’s lips mould into a pout as you continue your earlier ministrations of brushing back sweat slicked hair away from his face before pressing a chase kiss to his lip and making his cock twitch from over sensitivity, inside of you. he was always a sucker for the romantic moments after a passionate round of sex, he was a domestic, love struck son of a bitch what could he say? “suki...lovebug, you know you can pull out if it’s too much,” you remind him, the sound of your voice pulling his attention back to you. as he stares; katsuki maps out every detail of your face, the way your eyes glitter in the mellow light that peeks from between closed curtains or the slight dip across your cheek in the form of a scar from where you’d been injured on the field— he spends time committing it all to memory as if it’s the last time he’ll get to witness such beauty. “you’re staring, bug.”

“nuh uh, not pulling out.” huffing, bakugou leans up for another kiss, which you happily provide him with as he curls up onto your chest like a kitten seeking warmth. “keepin’ you plugged full s’you can get preggers like i fuckin’ promised.”

“you were serious?” you question him first, earning yourself another grouchy huff before your eyes roll and a comfortable silence sweeps across your bedroom, periodically interrupted by the morning birds waking up and chirping. “always a man of your word, huh bug? don’t worry, we’ll make you a daddy bear soon, but i’ve got to clean up before the kids wake up.”

“don’ you fuckin’ move— leave the dumbass kids, they’ll be fine on their own.”

“not with taiga’s quirk coming through, now move, you’re heavy.”

with that, you manage to shove bakugou off of you and he only hisses lightly as his softened cock hits the cold air, already missing your heat. the banter between you both as husband and wife is always light and you always win; he wants to bite back but anything he says will be soft on his sharp tongue. damn you and you being the love of his life. bakugou watches as you fix his shirt over your frame and head to your en-suite bathroom to make yourself more presentable to your kids— mumbling something about how many times katsuki came inside of you.

sure there was a lot of it, but he’d only cum inside you twice and he was trying to give you a baby. again.

the shower turns on and he can hear the sound of water running but it doesn’t cover your sweet voice as you call for him. he could never miss that. “katsuki bakugou, you horny bastard, i love you, my daddy bear!” you sing for him; making the blonde smile.

“i love you more, honey baby,” he chuckles back, tucking himself back into sweats before settling back into the ruined sheets.

bakugou was so luckily to have you and you’re beautiful children— he wouldn’t trade any moment of his life for the world except for maybe more time with you. he swore, he’d spend forever loving you if he could.

“daddy?” sweet thoughts are cut off by the groggy voice of bakugou’s eldest daughter, taiga, who stands in the doorway of his bedroom rubbing her cherry red eyes.

the blonde grins, rising from his place in bed and crossing the room in three short strides. he quickly crouches down in front of his little girl and ruffle her unruly mop of matching blonde hair. “g’morning brat, what’s up?”

taiga clutches her shoto plushy tightly, the one uncle todoroki had gotten her for her first birthday ( the one that bakugou hated because it was his daughter’s favourite— kirishima hated it too because he had always thought he was the favourite uncle ), and pouts down at her father, scowling sleepily. bakugou knows if you could see the two of them now, you’d be saying she was the spitting image of him. “tatsumo woke up n wouldn’t stop whinin’, fink he’s hungry, daddy!” the little girl grumbles, clearly still reeling in the after effects of her sleep that got cut short.

“how about we go get him and make some pancakes then?” katsuki suggests softly, hauling his daughter onto his bare shoulders and being mindful not to drop her stupid fuckin’— i mean her plushy to the ground. “y’gonna help me mix up enough batter for ya ma n’ brother, you got that brat?”

taiga squeals as at the new found height, wrapping a singular chubby arm around bakugou’s head for support, making his heart burst at the tiny hand that grips his chin. fuck, he loved his life. “only if we can add choco chwips, daddy!”

“oi, don’t you push your fuckin’ luck with me brat, ya mommy might let you get away with eatin’ shit like that but not me—“ bakugou makes an attempt to scold his daughter while they make way towards his son’s room, but he already knows he’s going to give into her. he can’t say no to taiga.

“i’ll tell mommy you cursed at me!”

“why you little sh—“

“careful, katsuki, if you keep cursing her out i might have to put you on punishment later,” taiga bursts in to wriggly giggles on bakugou’s shoulders, making it harder to keep her in place as you brush past him to grab tatsumo from the nursery.

“daddy’s gonna get in trouble!”

the teasing tone to your voice lingers in the air while you fetch your son, who seems groggy and pouty when he comes into katsuki’s view— wrapped up in your arms while you wear a cleaner shirt of his. there’s that glint in your eye, similar to the one your children posses when they’re doing something mischievous. and  that alone tells the ash blonde he’ll be getting punished in ways that could lead to another little one rushing through your house.

bakugou can roll with that.

but for now; he reaches up and pinches taiga’s nose— telling her to stop running her mouth and sending you into giggles while you carry your children downstairs for breakfast. katsuki bakugou couldnt remember the last time he’d gotten a full nights sleep, but what he did know is that he’d always remember the very saccharine mornings he’d get to spend with you and your beautiful children after.

bonus:

“taiga, did you put chocolate chips in the batter even though i told you no?”

bakugou had turned his back for but a mere second to grab some milk for tatsumo; who played happily with smooshed bits of banana in his high chair— and suddenly, the batter was littered with the offending, tiny pieces of candy.

“no, it was mommy!”

“yn...”

you quickly throw your hands up in the air as defence, dropping the packet of sinful treats to the counter. “what? i’m having cravings, bakugou!”

“you’re not even pregnant, yn!” the man himself raises his spatula at you accusingly with a scowl, biting down on his tongue to prevent himself from cursing again.

you smile up at your husband, knowing he can’t stay mad at you for long. “but i will be, katsuki, it’s the thought that counts.” your eyes flicker up as you wipe the melted chocolate on your finger tips off with your tongue before moving to settle your daughter down for breakfast. bakugou splutters, cheeks flaming with a reddish rose at the thought of your soon to be baby and all the activity that comes with making one which makes you laugh. “oh and lovebug? your pancakes are burning.”

with a jump, katsuki turns to flick off the flame and save his batch of pancakes while you tend to your kids— leaving him to contemplate over your chocolate chip breakfast, how lucky he was to have you.

“i crave chocolate, can i get a pregnant?” taiga squeals shortly after.

“not a chance in hell, brat.”

♡ taglist:

@ozzy-bozzy @bakugous-mamas @meg-mystic @runningon-5percentsleep @cyans-bliss @husband-to-tomura-shigaraki @paintedr0ses1 @69meggg69 @sapphoscolonoscopy @toshidou @saucey-kneecapzz42020 @candybabey @alrunemara​ @greenchild​

[nikethestatue]

The King's Wife

Chapter III

Elain's Turn

(surprise chapter for @fawnandshadows birthday! Enjoy the smut, honey.)

Elain 's first morning as a wife to the Kings

(pervasive language and explicit sexual content)

She craved tender violence 

“Morning.”

Azriel shuffled into the kitchen.

“Morning to the newlywed groom!” Ruhn looked unflappable as always. Azriel couldn’t recall a time when Ruhn was ruffled or disturbed or upset about anything. Ruhn was aware of his own terrifying importance, and his menacing presence and was the guy who stopped conversations in their tracks. His ruthlessness knew no bounds, yet the magnetism of his untamed personality was also undeniable–he attracted and repelled with equal strength. 

“It smells good,” Azriel noted, heading for the espresso machine. 

Ruhn took a drag of his cigarette and smirked.

“What’s this?” Azriel jerked his head towards a platter on the counter, as he threw back a tiny cup of espresso.

“Muffins.”

“I am aware that these are muffins.”

“Cappuccino muffins,” Ruhn offered helpfully.

“Where is Fen?”

“Probably with El,” Ruhn shrugged, but he didn’t fail to notice the slight relaxing of his brother’s shoulders. 

Interesting.

Ruhn didn’t know this, but Azriel had checked on Elain throughout the night. Twice he peeked into her room, to find her asleep, her hair spread over the pillows, her naked leg uncovered and it took a lot of self-control for him not to crawl and kiss all along that leg. He’d never knelt in front of anyone before, but in front of Elain, he could live on his knees. The third time he went to check on her, around 7 am, he did not find her in the bedroom. 

It’s been a long time since he’d experienced sheer panic. When adrenaline shot through him so rapidly, when his head felt aflame and his palms grew sweaty and his whole body felt like jelly. He didn’t know where Elain was and he wondered if she’d left them.

He’d refused to sleep with her. She was his wife, and he’d refused to sleep with his wife and he knew that she was upset. And he wondered if his wife had left him, the night of their wedding, because he was already a bad husband.

Logically, he knew that Elain couldn’t have left. She wasn’t printed for the elevators, she didn’t know the codes and couldn’t open the doors. She’d have to leave the house–which was impenetrable– she’d have to cross the lawn, open the gate, to which she didn’t have the code, and then walk to the building, find the entrance to the elevator, bypass three doors, get onto to the elevator, make it work and then walk out of the lobby, without being stopped by any of the guards. 

Azriel prided himself on the security measures that were in place in their home, but when he didn’t see Elain first thing in the morning, he absolutely lost it.

That explained his present state–wearing nothing but his black boxers, barefoot, tense as a reed, chugging espressos.

“Where is El?” he was finally able to ask, hating that Ruhn was so cool and clearly was dragging this out.

“Last time I saw her, she was making the rounds with the help and the guards,” Ruhn chuckled.

“What?”

“She woke up, baked muffins, prepared coffee, and went on to make friends with the guards and the help,”

“The guards?” Azriel gasped. 

Ruhn stabbed out his cigarette and immediately lit another. 

“You can’t go psycho on her yet,” he warned. 

“I am not!”

“I know your overprotective tendencies,” Ruhn argued. “You can’t just lock her in here and have her only at our disposal, forced to only deal with us,”

“That’s not what I want to do,” Azriel became defensive, “but it’s dangerous,”

“We know,” Ruhn rubbed his shoulder and added, “but we have plans for that and we’ve discussed it before. But you promised her that she can have her life and her job and,”

“I know. I know,” Azriel waved him off. 

“Look who I found!” Azriel and Ruhn turned to witness Fenrys draped over Elain, his arm snaking around her body, pressing her to his side. She was holding him around the waist, and both were laughing. “We have to find all new guards!” he declared.

“Is that so?” Azriel cocked his brow. A stab of jealousy wormed into his heart at how Fenrys held Elain and how she laughed with him, so happily and openly. 

“She’s charmed them all so well by now, that if she gives an order, they’ll shoot us in the head without asking any questions,”

For that, he was rewarded with a mighty shove in the ribs. 

“Awww!” he screamed dramatically. “That’s spousal abuse!”

“You deserve it,” Ruhn muttered under his breath.

“Where did you go?” Azriel inquired, watching the two of them. Fenrys wrapped both of his arms around her shoulders and put his chin on her head.

“We sure didn’t go to pound-town, if that’s what you are asking!” 

Azriel rolled his eyes, squeezing the bridge of his nose and Elain nodded eagerly, 

“No, we didn’t go to any town! We’ve been here, at the house. I’ve never heard of pound-town, what’s there?”

Ruhn was shaking in silent, hysterical laughter.

Azriel didn’t know how to react.

But Fenrys pressed his lips to Elain’s cheek, whispering against it,

“Babygirl, any time you want to go to pound-town, I will take you! Gladly. Over and over again,”

She frowned,

“Is it something sexual?”

“Not at all,” Fenrys lied, “we take walks on the beach…candlelit dinners,”

Azriel was watching Elain, whose huge brown eyes kept glancing at him. At first, he thought it was because of Fenrys, but then, he realised that it was because he was mostly nude and she was studying his body. So he stepped closer and before she could say anything, he clasped her face in his hand and crushed his mouth against her soft lips. He didn’t care that Fenrys was still hovering around her, his brother’s face almost next to his. He grabbed the back of her head in his hand and tilted her face so she melded into him, just as the lovely lips opened up to him, like tulip petals and he licked her on her, languidly, writing a message of love on her tongue, dancing around her lips and teeth. Elain was squeezed between him and Fenrys, who didn’t feel the need to release her from his tight embrace, though his hands travelled up, and he cupped her breasts. Elain shuddered between their bodies, particularly as Fenrys fastened his lips on her neck, sucking softly, while Azriel kissed her lips. She whimpered, moaning into Azriel’s mouth, eyes closed and fully giving into the kiss, letting him dominate her tongue with his. If he knew one thing about her was that Elain liked kissing. He liked kissing Elain. So did Fenys, apparently. 

“We could take you to pound-town right now, baby,” Fenrys whispered into her ear, his lips skidding up and down her jaw and her cheek. “I don't think my older, serious brother took you on that trip last night…”

He dropped his hand lower and cupped her between her legs, gently rubbing her with his palm, while he licked on her neck, muttering, “because if he did, I don’t think you’d be walking today…”

Elain was crying out softly with every rub of Fenrys’s hand, unable to pull away from Azriel’s lips, and maybe not wanting to. 

“Our darling girl,” Fenrys rubbed and rubbed and Elain began to shake next to him, her eyes heavy with pleasure, her face flushed and sweaty, her soft hand grabbing at Azriel’s bicep in desperation.

He was watching her, pulling away from her sweet lips, though he couldn’t help but place tender slow kisses on them over and over again.

“Have you come before, sweetheart?” he asked. He hoped that she had, because she was 24 years old, but Miss-What’s-In-Pound-Town was hard to read. He also hoped that she knew what 'come' meant.

Elain could barely open her eyes, but she managed to nod, looking dazed and drunk. 

Azriel smiled and bit her lower lip, running his tongue over it, watching her plump tits bounce against his chest with every bush of Fenrys’s hand. 

“Make our girl come,” he ordered, “so we can all see what that looks like.”

“With pleasure,” Fenrys nodded, pressing the heel of his palm at the juncture of her thighs, where her knickers were damp under the yoga pants that she was wearing. With one deft move, Fenrys spun Elain around, and the next thing she knew, she was bent over the marble counter, her body splayed over it and he was behind her, his knee easily pushing her legs apart, his hand never breaking the delicious rhythm that he’d set. 

Next to her, Ruhn sat unmoving, observing the show with his usual placid expression, smoking in silence. Azriel was at her side, kissing her cheek, his almost-naked body warm and strong around her, and he gathered her braid, pushing it to the side, so he could kiss the back of her neck. It was Fenrys then, who wrapped his hand with her braid and pulled her head back, so that her body arched and he looked down at her and then dipped his tongue in her mouth, while rubbing her thoroughly and quickening the pace. 

She was panting loudly, the ache between her legs almost unbearable, her clit throbbing and swelling, never having been beaten quite so hard and so amazingly. Her own fingers could never compare to the strength of the 6”5, 240 lb tower of muscular steel that was the gorgeous, wicked Fenrys King. He did nothing but rubbed her clit with the heel of his palm–she wasn’t naked, and had two layers of cloth between her drenched slit and his hand–but the sensation was wild. Unbelievable.

“Our eager little virgin,” Fenrys grinned, his dark eyes turning almost black, as he slid his hard cock between her butt cheeks, pressing into her and making her wail. She shook and gasped, biting his chin and he laughed, kissing her heartily, before saying, “boys, we got a biter!”

“So much the better,” Ruhn finally decided. He reached and rubbed his lips with his thumb, wetting it with his saliva, before pushing it in her mouth wordlessly. She gulped it down, her eyes wide with shock and embarrassment, because she couldn't help herself and started to suck on it sloppily.

“Feel free to bite it, love,” he winked at her, slowly thrusting his thumb in and out of her swollen lips. 

And bite Elain did, when she came with a shuddering cry, trembling between Fenrys and the counter, clutching the edge of the cold marble. She sucked in the air, Ruhn’s finger, and her teeth pressed into his bone, making him wince and smile at once. 

“Good fucking girl,” Fenrys approved, his soft, lustrous blond locks fanning over Elain’s face when he stooped to kiss her brow. He kept rubbing into her, working her through her orgasm, her body spasming again and again over his hand.

“Good morning, flower,” Azriel stroked her face and smiled at her.

Ruhn finally pulled his thumb out of her mouth and then licked it appreciatively.

“A girl with an oral fixation is a treasure,” he decided. 

Elain flushed, but she couldn’t argue. She always had something in her mouth–mints, hard candy, lollipops, caramels, Ruhn’s thumb, a drinking straw, Altoids. She never noticed it before.

“Now, lovebirds,” Ruhn pointed at the clock with his cigarette, “get yourselves presentable. We have a meeting at 8 am.” 

He glanced at Azriel, “you should probably find a pair of pants, boss.”

Another look, at Fenrys, “wipe that stupid lustful smirk off your face.”

Finally, “you sweetheart, should probably put on an apron to cover that wet patch on your crotch.”

Fenrys finally stepped away from her and rubbed his erect cock a few times through his jeans, laughing and muttering ‘settle down, big boy!’

Ruhn coughed and commented, ‘Big?’ 

“Fuck off,” Fenrys flipped him off, while Azriel helped Elain stand up straight, wrapping his arm around her middle.

Ruhn scowled and said,

“Now that you two idiots are done fingering each other like fucking teenagers, make yourselves presentable.”

Then he glanced at Elain and smiled, 

“Not you, baby. You can play with yourself whenever you want to, and if you want to actually ride a dick, and not get dry humped by the tender blond prince here, I am always available,”

At that, Fenrys scoffed and said,

“I don't know if babygirl needs to experience your rage fucking just yet,”

“I don’t rage fuck,” Ruhn shrugged and sipped his coffee, “I am a methodical lover. It’s ladies’ choice with me–whatever they require, I shall offer. If they don’t know what they want, I will show them.”

Meanwhile, Azriel gripped Elain’s hand in his and pulled her after him. She followed wordlessly and obediently, as they went upstairs and ended up in her bedroom. Before he could say anything, Elain wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.

Azriel was relieved, as he readily kissed her back, cupping her lovely round ass in his palms.

“Feeling alright, love?” he chuckled against her lips.

“I got an orgasm first thing in the morning,” she laughed, “why wouldn’t I feel good?”

“Those could be delivered every morning,” he offered immediately. “Two in the afternoon. Two more for afternoon tea,”

“Afternoon tea? How genteel of you,” she teased.

“Or are you more of an Aperol spritz, a little salumi and formaggio kind of a girl?” he smirked.

“Definitely the latter!”

“Alright then, we’ll deliver orgasms after your snack and of course a few more at night.”

He disengaged from her, but only to drop on his knees–a place he rather enjoyed being at–and then tugged on her maroon yoga pants and the underwear beneath them.

“These are sexy as hell,” he commented, rolling them down her thighs, “but probably a darker colour would be better?”

Soon, Elain was stepping out of her garments and then, she stood naked in front of him, save for her t-shirt. 

“Flower, we don’t need this,” he decided, pulling the shirt up, and easily tossing it on the floor. Swiftly, he went to the bathroom and then returned with a damp cloth, while Elain stood in the middle of the room, gloriously naked, and he groaned, wide-eyed,

“You are a painting…the Birth of Venus…”

He came over and then whispered into her hair,

“Spread your legs for me, love.”

Her throat bobbed and she blushed a pretty blush that he so adored, but parted her thighs wordlessly, watching him with curiosity. Azriel placed his hand on her hip and then gingerly wiped her between her legs.

“Oh my lord,” she gasped, reddening furiously.

His thumb only lightly skimmed along the slit, but that’s as far as he went. So he skimmed over and over again, bathing his thumb in her post-orgasmic slick, which he also wiped with the cloth.

He smiled and peered at her, watching her reaction, before bunching the cloth and setting it aside.

With a smirk, she added, “I am not sure if you needed to undress me completely to do this though!”

Without warning, Azriel cupped her breast in his hand and his thumb brushed against her pale pink nipple, pushing at it and worrying it insistently.

“May I?” he murmured, mesmerized by her soft flesh and how his scarred brown fingers mashed it and squeezed it, the nipple growing hard under his attention.

Elain wasn’t sure what he was asking, and he didn’t clarify, because he zoomed on the nipple, licking his lips with anticipation.

She tipped his chin and made him look at her,

“Az–you are my husband. I know that we’ve been brought together under unorthodox circumstances, but,” she stroked his cheek, “I like you…”

And something cracked inside Azriel’s chest at the simple admission. People didn’t ‘like’ him. He wasn’t a likable guy. He was fearsome and cold and he usually terrified people. His immense power, his physical strength, which allowed him to rupture someone’s spleen with one well-placed hit, or bang someone’s face in until it was a mess of bone and blood, his complete confidence in in the King supremacy–all of it had normal people run the other way and engage with him very minimally and only when necessary. 

But here stood this wonderful innocent girl who didn’t care about the blood that coated his hands, or the darkness that lived inside him and she inexplicably liked him for…him?

“I really do like you very much,” she continued, unaware of the thoughts that were rushing through his head, “and you don’t need to ask me for permission every time you want to touch me,”

“But I will, sweetheart,” he promised and kissed her gently. “I don’t mind asking for permission, and I think it’s the right thing to do by you.”

“Okay, I will ask you too,” she decided seriously.

He chuckled, nodding, thinking that if Elain climbed on his face and sat on it and murdered him with her pussy, he’d die a very, very happy man.

“I know you will, love,” he agreed and then made a wide, wet swipe of her breast with his tongue. The soft bouncy tit was like silk in his mouth, tender and satiny and he couldn't help himself and bit her plump, firm nipple.

“Oh god, Az…” she squealed and moaned all at once, but Azriel was now in possession of her beautiful breast and he was going to have his way with it, with teeth and lips and tongue. He cupped her bare ass with his available hand and grabbed the cheek firmly, the tips of his fingers sliding right in the crack, and making Elain cry and gasp with surprise and pleasure, while he massaged and squeezed the globe of her breast, sucking in her nipple deep between his lips. He sucked hard, pulling and tugging, and she stumbled on her feet, half-delirious with all the new sensations that he rained upon her naked body. 

Up until now, the idea of sleeping with Azriel was more theoretical, but with his harsh scratchy palms caressing her body, his mouth sucking her nipple with a voracious hunger, half of her breast currently inside his wet, hot mouth and his fingers thrumming across her butt–it all became very real very quickly. And Elain loved it. She wanted more. 

She thought that she’d be afraid, or uncomfortable, or hesitant–apparently, not. Apparently, she was okay with coming in front of three men, the morning following her wedding.

Once Azriel finally pulled away, his normally bright hazel eyes were almost the colour of coal.

“Fuck, Elain,” he grunted, his voice hoarse and so gravelly, she barely understood what he was saying. “You taste like strawberries and sunshine and every romantic bullshit story all wrapped into one.”

She was glassy-eyed, panting softly. 

“Hold the thought,” he kissed her, “we’ll continue…”

“Please,” she begged.

The three Kings were in the main living room. Azriel, dressed as usual in a dark bespoke suit, stood next to a very beautiful young woman, who must have been his new wife. On either side, he was flunked by his brothers–Ruhn, in his usual sleeveless t-shirt, black jeans and boots, and Fenrys, barefoot and bare chested, wearing only jeans, though he was drinking coffee from a porcelain cup.

The guards piled in and all stood on one side of the room. The help–a trusted housekeeper, two maids and an assistant, stood on the other side of the room. They've never been summoned by Azriel King before, and stood in silent terror watching the darkly handsome male as if he was Death, with shadows and terrors lurking around him. In contrast, the woman was like a gentle fawn, lovely and beautiful as a dusk sky. She wore a flowery summer dress and espadrilles. Her golden-brown hair was tied into a messy bun, loose strands accentuating her long neck and striking face.

“Good morning,” Azriel said and those present tracked the movement of his hand, grotesquely scarred by fire, and something that he usually hid in his pockets, as he reached for the woman’s hand and she threaded her fingers with his. It seemed like that gave him the strength to talk. “Thank you for joining us here today.”

As if anyone had a choice not to join.

He continued,

“This is Elain King. My wife.”

As the information was being absorbed, he added, “do what she orders. She is the lady of the house now.”

This was pretty much as verbose as Azriel got with the help and Elain took over, smiling brightly and saying, “it’s very nice to meet you. I look forward to working with you.”

“Mrs. King,” the older housekeeper curtsied, followed by the others. She even had an English accent. Clearly, the Kings liked things to be done properly.

When Elain turned to the gaggle of guards though, Azriel tugged lightly on her hand, stopping her and when she glanced to look at Fenrys, who was on her right, his eyes darted quickly, telling her to remain silent. 

The guards all said in unison “Mrs. King,” and that was that.

“You are dismissed,” Azriel stated and everyone filed out of the room, except for two men. 

“Elain, this is Rowan, head of security,” Ruhn announced, introducing a very tall muscular male, with platinum white hair and a tattooed face. 

“Mrs. King,” Rowan said, hardly looking at her, his posture that of a military man and he struck Elain about as talkative and excitable as Azriel.

“And this is Varian,” Ruhn pointed to the other male, who possessed the same posture as Rowan. He was black, with bright blue eyes and hair which was also platinum blond. “He will be the head of your personal security detail.”

“Mrs. King,” Varian did look at her, though his face was devoid of emotion, “it’s a pleasure. I look forward to working with you.”

“I need a personal security detail?” Elain asked in confusion. “It’s nice to meet you, Rowan and Varian, but,”

“Gentlemen, dismissed,” Ruhn said and the two left the room.

Elain exhaled and then murmured, “Well, that was awkward and weird,”

Fenrys immediately moseyed over and laughed, before plopping on a sofa and taking her with him. 

“And why do I need a security detail?” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. “And why can’t I talk to them? Or look at them?”

Fenrys clamped his fingers over her chin and pulled her to him, placing a kiss on her lips.

“Has Az seen you naked?” he asked, bypassing her questions.

Azriel took off his jacket, his shoulders loosening up and nodded, saying, “I have. And she is delicious.”

But it was Ruhn who was sliding on the sofa next to her and as he draped his arm around her shoulders, he said into her neck, his lips making a trail of soft kisses from her ear to her jaw, “Can we see too?”

Elain glanced at Azriel, just to make sure and he nodded, saying, “show them, love. Her tits are delectable, by the way,” he added, winking at her. She smiled at his rude compliment. 

“This is our honeymoon, after all,” concluded Fenrys, quickly tugging the straps of her dress down her shoulders, his hands hot and impatient on her skin, while Ruhn brashly plunged his tongue in her mouth, steady and firm, as usual and whispered in her mouth, “suck, my little braid buddy,”

Elain smiled, noticing that both of them were sporting braids today, his own dark and thick, and even longer than hers. She played with his lip ring, tugging on it with her teeth, before taking his tongue in her mouth and licking on it readily, following his guidance and submitting to his ravenous assault on her mouth. Meanwhile, Fenrys rolled her dress down to her hips and easily snapped her bra, with a move so practiced, she figured that he’s done it with hundreds of women. 

“Look at these!” he exclaimed excitedly, gripping both of her breasts in his hands and squeezing them tightly, before jiggling them demonstratively, for everyone to see. 

Elain attempted to look down at her half-naked body, but Ruhn didn’t allow it, kissing her continuously, keeping her head turned to his and in place.

Fenrys meanwhile squeezed and massaged her, the grip of his palms hard and strong on her tits, before proposing, “I say Elain walks naked around the house!”

She jerked between them in feeble protest, but they laughed, while Fenrys amended, “fine–but no bras, no panties. Skirts only. Easy access.”

Azriel was unlacing her espadrilles, nodding his assent. “I can’t argue with this logic,” he admitted. 

“Boys…” Elain panted, lightheaded and breathless, when Ruhn finally released her mouth, which was now swollen from his kisses.

“May we suck on you, sweet girl?” he asked.

“Yes please,” she said with a small nod, and her usual ridiculous politeness.

Ruhn kissed her again and then cupped one of her breasts, massaging it slowly, while Fenrys leaned over her, caging Elain’s head within his embrace, his other hand splayed over her belly, caressing her heated skin gently. She looked at him and he smiled, murmuring, “so gorgeous. You are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,”

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” she chuckled and then arched her back, because his fingers squeezed her nipple, pulling on it until she whimpered loudly.

“No lies, babygirl,” he shook his head, kissing her lightly on her lips, “you aren’t like the other girls. You are my girl.”

“Stop talking, Casanova,” Ruhn muttered with a smirk, his warm breath fanning over her breasts, “and start sucking that titty,”

Fenrys shrugged apologetically and said, “I’ve been given an order. Get the titties ready for some sucking,” and he dipped down, immediately sucking her nipple deep in his mouth.

“Oh god,” she cried out loudly, when Ruhn’s teeth clamped on her other nipple and he teased it with the tip of his tongue, holding her breast to his lips possessively.

“Sweetheart, are you saddled with your two menchildren?” Azriel laughed, watching his brothers greedily sucking and licking her nipples, nipping and biting, soothing and teasing.

“Oh, Az…” she barely managed to utter, the sensations so overwhelming, she felt like she was going to pass out. It didn’t help that he was kissing her from her toes up her ankles, stroking her calves with his fingers and his tongue.

“Does it feel good?” he queried, noticing all her reactions–from the fluttering of her eyelids, to the rapidly rising chest, to the sharp arch of her back. She was loving it. Her pale hands were wrapped around each man’s shoulders, their brawny arms and necks slowly caressed and stroked, though she held their heads to her breasts, offering them to their hungry mouths. They both sucked like men starved for attention and human touch, and even though Azriel imagined that such vigorous sucking must’ve hurt her, Elain’s legs only fell apart comfortably, and Fenrys immediately slipped his hand under her bunched up skirt, stroking her inner thigh.

“Let me help with that,” Azriel offered, and pulled on her plain white panties–something she clearly favoured–carefully sliding them down her thighs. 

“Oh, we got her naked!” Fenrys exclaimed gleefully, while Azriel rid her of the underwear and tossed it aside. 

At that, Ruhn released her nipple from her mouth with a loud pop, and while she whimpered from the loss, he replaced his teeth and lips with her fingers, rolling it, though it was red and swollen from all the attention it received. He slid off the sofa and knelt side by side with Azriel.

“Ellie, I want to look at your pussy,” he said bluntly and Elain glanced at him, biting her lower lip, while he kneaded her breast, with Fenrys still enjoying the other one to his heart’s delight. “Has anyone looked at you before?”

She shook her head no.

“Very good, darling girl,” Ruhn approved, biting his lip ring, his braid ruined and his long hair like a wave of black sliding down his massive shoulders. 

“I think it’s for my…husbands,” she murmured softly, her eyes big and so trusting.

“Of course it is,” he kissed her knee, while Azriel kissed the other, and both of them spread her legs wide apart, and without prompting, Fenrys hiked the bottom of her dress up onto her belly, baring her almost completely to the three of them. Elain’s first instinct was to close her legs, but the two men held firm, and kept her spread out before their dark gazes. Az gently pulled one fold, while Ruhn grabbed the other, and they opened her up, while Fenrys held her to his bare chest, kissing her face, jiggling and pumping both of her tits.

“Look at you, all pretty and pink,” Ruhn couldn’t tear his eyes from the glistening coral-pink slit, dragging his knuckle the length of it, and Azriel’s thumb skimmed over her engorged clit, making her jump in Fenrys’s arms.

“Oh, my boys,” she murmured weakly, “you are,”

“We are happy,” Azriel assured her, kissing along the inside of her thigh, hauling her leg onto his shoulder. “You make us so happy, love,”

“You do,” Ruhn concurred, “you are our sweetheart.”

They pulled on the lips of her pussy even further, and Elain moved, almost sitting upright, looking between her legs. 

“Look at your tiny little hole,” Ruhn drew his finger around the rim of the tight opening, with Elain biting her lip, and creaming against his fingertips.

“I know that Az is popping that cherry of yours,” Ruhn kept running his finger around her opening, and Elain smiled at Azriel, nodding. He kissed her hand and then pressed his thumb to her clit, rubbing lazily, as Ruhn continued, swiping his gorgeous hair over his shoulder, “but the moment he finishes inside of you, I am next. I want you bleeding on my cock just as well.”

She was so tense and turned on from the overstimulation that a few well-placed circles of Azriel’s thumb on her clit had her orgasming, her toes curling, as she arched and buckled against Fen’s chest.

He caressed her tits, nuzzling into her neck and kissing her, urging her on. “That a girl! Come for us, baby…”

They watched her, as she panted and shook, Ruhn’s wicked finger circling, but never entering her, Azriel reaching to tug on her nipples. 

“Pretty pink pussy all ready for a cock,” Ruhn sniggered, as he patted the surface of her sex with his hand, “don’t worry, sweetheart, soon enough you’ll get all the cock you want or need.”

Elain, finally coming down from her climax, thought for a moment and nodded in agreement.

“I want all three of you to ride me,” she decided breathlessly, “the first time.”

“Smart girl,” Fen laughed, and kissed her noisily. “We are going to ruin that pussy the first time we get inside!”

“I want to be ridden everywhere!” she pouted prettily, while Ruhn bit her nipple and tugged on it with his teeth, before kissing her lips. 

“Well, then I need to see the goods!” Ruhn laughed, and Elain furrowed her brow, while both Fen and Az were grinning.

“Tell me!” she demanded, while Ruhn easily turned her over and ordered, “on your hands and knees, baby.”

Though a little clumsily and unsurely, Elain climbed on her hands and knees and tucked her face into Fen’s neck, kissing his jaw, while he stroked her face. 

Fenrys was massive. He was lean, with a pale golden skin, and did not appear to be as big as he was, when he was dressed, but now, bare from the waist up, Elain couldn’t help but ogle his stunning physique–he was carved in thick muscle everywhere, especially around his arms and huge shoulders. On his heart, there was a tattoo, which said Gavriel . Beside that, his skin was unmarked, save for a large K wrapped in roses and blades–the family crest, as she’d found out.

“Tell me,” she ordered. Ruhn was behind her, and he pressed on her back, making her arc deeply and thrust her ass high up in the air.

“Well, let’s see,” Fenrys filled his palms with her tits, jiggling and slapping them playfully, so they bounced and flopped over his fingers. “I like to eat pussy,” he announced. 

“Mine?” she batted her lashes at him, her face a mask of curiosity.

“For brekkie and lunch and dinner,” he promised, and pulled on her nipples.

“Ruhn here–well, my brother is an ass man,”

“That I am,” Ruhn agreed, slapping her ass cheek lightly, making her jump a little.

“Oh,” she squeaked.

“He’ll be riding your ass like you are his pony. Is that good?”

“Yes”, she turned to look at Ruhn, who winked at her, nodding his cheeky warning. “I want Ruhn in my bum,” she allowed. “But will it hurt?” 

Ruhn caressed her ass appreciatively and said, “Of course it will, sweet girl. I’ll be ramming your tight little hole with my nine inch cock,”

At that, Elain moaned, her eyes rolling back and she licked her lips. 

Ruhn grinned, his lip ring glinting in the sunlight, his smile feral and cruel.

“But,” he dropped down and suddenly kissed her anus, and she yelped loudly. “You’ll be my good girl and you will like it…I’ll teach you…Next thing we know, you’ll be opening up your soft butt cheeks for me yourself,”

“And Az?” she asked quickly.

“Oh, Az will be riding your ass too.”

Azriel sat on the sofa next to her and pulled her in for a kiss.

“Where do you want it, my love?” he asked, playing with her tongue, licking on it teasingly.

“Everywhere,” she pleaded softly, impatiently catching his finger with her teeth and swallowing it eagerly. He leaned back on the cushions and fed her his finger, pumping it in and out of her mouth, before Fen pushed one of his own and both of them started to thrust in and out of her soft lips, as she sucked them.

Ruhn squeezed and pinched her ass, caressing it from her waist and down, cupping each cheek and giving them generous stokes with his large hands, before curling his body over hers and whispering in her ear,

“What about cocks? Will you suck some cocks, pretty girl?”

Elain gave him an incredulous look, her mouth still occupied by Azriel’s and Fen’s fingers, but she pulled back and looked at Ruhn over her shoulder, even if Fenrys moaned his disappointment at the loss of her mouth. 

“I am your wife!” she exclaimed, “it’s my right and privilege to suck all of your cocks!”

The three of them winced at first and then burst out in hysterical laughter. 

“God you’re fucking perfect!” Azriel kissed her excitedly.

She wiggled her ass against Ruhn’s thick erection, and he rubbed the length between her ass cheeks, demonstrating all the nine inches that he was packing. Though she felt like he lied for her benefit–whatever was rubbing in her crack felt bigger than nine inches.

“I think we should discuss some things,” Azriel said, kissing her again. Fenrys pulled her on his lap and she draped her arm around his shoulders, while he played with her nipples, rubbing them and tickling them with his thumbs. Azriel put her feet on his lap, and said,

“Sweetheart, your life as a King starts now.”

She nodded and Fen kissed her temple.

Ruhn sat across from them, lighting a cigarette and inhaling deeply.

“First things first–the three of us are responsible for your security,”

“Oh,” she interrupted, “by the way, how many ‘heads of security’ do you have?! You,” she jerked her head towards Ruhn, “Cassian. Now this Rowan guy. And what’s the other guy’s name? Valiant? Vavin?”

Ruhn and the other two laughed and Ruhn explained,

“It’s Varian. I oversee all of our security. Cassian oversees external security. Rowan oversees personal security in our facilities. Finally, Varian will oversee your security.”

“And why do I need security?”

“Because now, you are a prime target,” Azriel said, his face grave. He stroked her legs and added, “and as my wife…unfortunately, that means that you are in danger of being kidnapped and-or used against us, as leverage,”

“But,”

He raised his hand and said,

“No. Elain, you are a smart woman,” and at that Fenrys nodded, “but before yesterday, you were the second daughter of the Archeron Clan. Today, you are Elain King. You are the wife of Azriel King,”

“The biggest motherfucker in town…” Ruhn offered a chuckle.

“Well, I don’t know about that,” Azriel protested modestly.

But Ruhn said, puffing on his fag, “The deal is that Varian and his men report directly to me. You now fall under my jurisdiction. I don't want to sound like a psycho, but,”

“That’s a good start,” she muttered.

“You can’t talk to just anyone, anymore, darling,” Azriel said gently. “Especially not males. You will have an escort anywhere you go. There cannot be any PDA between you and Fen and Ruhn,”

“I understand!” she mumbled.

“But,” he squeezed her hand, “even between us–you and I, it has to be cool. The less people see, the better. If there is a feeling that ours is a marriage of convenience and obligation, in order to simply unite the families, the better it is.”

“So I can’t kiss you in public?” she frowned.

“No. I’d rather they didn’t think that there are any feelings between us.”

“Fine,” she sighed. “But, I can still work…you,”

“I know,” he interrupted, “I promised and I will keep that promise. I have no problem with you working, but,”

“Your security is shit,” Fenrys sighed dramatically. “When I broke into your shop,”

“Wait, what?” she twisted on his lap, glaring at him. “You did what?”

“Broke into your shop,” he said, like it was the most normal thing to do.

“You broke into my shop?! What? Why? When?”

“The night after those two visited you there,” he pointed at the other two men. “I have a job to run, but Cass and Ruhn kept raving about your cookies,”

“Cookies?” she breathed.

“Anyway, I wanted to try them, because of course these two assholes didn't think to bring me any, “he complained, “so I went there, broke in and ate them all,”

“Oh…” she remembered something, and then whispered to herself, “that’s where they went…I thought,” then, she slapped him loudly on the arm and yelled, “you broke into my shop?!!”

“Laney, Fen is different,” Ruhn shrugged. 

Fenrys threw his hands up in the air and demanded, “Me?!? How am I different? You are the one who told me to go on a recon mission,”

Yet again, Elain exclaimed, “What?” now glaring at Ruhn. 

Elbowing Fen she cried, “Him, I can understand! I’d almost expect it…come to think of it, not sure why I am even surprised,”

“Excuse you, babygirl!” Fenrys pouted, “just because you are sitting here, with your pussy open for,”

She immediately moved to close her legs, but he slapped her soaking-wet slit and tsked, “None of that! You keep that pussy nice and open for us,”

“He is right, you know,” Ruhn agreed. “No need for drastic measures like closing your legs, Lainey. Feel free to pull the folds apart, or play with yourself,”

“I am not pulling anything for you two,”

“Us? Pff, who do you think gave the initial order?” and Ruhn side-eyed Azriel.

Azriel smiled, watching her outraged gaze, and then opened his arms and said, “come to me, my girl. Your husband wants you.”

Elain crawled off Fenrys’s lap, though of course he managed to run his fingers between her ass cheeks once she turned around and pressed his finger into her little opening, flicking at it. “Mine!” he warned.

“We’ll see about that!” Elain threw over her shoulder, while Azriel pulled her on himself. He squeezed her face and kissed her raw and dirty, fucking her mouth with his tongue, mashing her breasts together in his hands. 

“Honestly, it’s really hot watching her with one of you,” Ruhn murmured thoughtfully, watching Elain take the tongue in her mouth greedily, while Azriel did what she refused–pulled her sleek folds apart and had her on full display for them, so much so, they could see a little inside her opening.

“The boys love watching you and your pussy, sweetheart,” he whispered between kisses. “You are so beautiful, so sexy, I can't blame them. My wife is the hottest babe in this town after all.”

“Okay,” she agreed, snuggling into him, “but don’t break into my shop,”

“Fen, how long did it take you to get inside?” Azriel asked.

“48 seconds,” Fenrys reported promptly.

“Less than a minute, my love,” Azriel sighed. “You understand why we are worried?”

“Okay, I get it. I mean, it’s a flower shop, I didn’t think,”

“Now, that’s a flower shop that contains the finest flower there is–you.”

“You are sweet to talk,”

“I am. But we also installed very good security in that shop.”

“When?”

“Overnight the day after we visited. Everything feeds into our phones, so if there is any trouble, we’ll know. There will be Varian and his men stationed around. You won’t know who they are.”

“Which brings us to the last point,” Ruhn went to the open kitchen and made himself a coffee. “You can’t fraternize with the guards,”

“What's that mean?”

“You are generous, kind and polite,” Azriel said. “You wake up and bake muffins the day after your wedding. You offer free cookies in the shop. You are friendly and sweet. But we can’t have you being on first-name basis with the guards. They have to look at you at their responsibility and task, not as a friend. I don’t want to see any friendliness between any of you. Not only because all communication with security should come from Ruhn or Rowan, but also because I don’t want strange men talking to my wife. And you will always be surrounded by strange men here. They are our employees and that’s the end of that. You are mine, and they won’t expect any camaraderie from you,”

“Ours,” Fenrys corrected him.

“When we are together, ours. In our domain, Elain is ours. But out there, she is my wife and everyone will know her as such,” the metallic notes in Azriel’s voice offered no room for argument. 

Ruhn scrubbed his hand over his handsome face and nodded, “That’s true. And you are to remember that,” he glanced at Fenrys, “and I mean it, Fen. Elain is not to be diddled in front of anyone except for us. You're just a brother-in-law. No titty squeezes, to bum pinches, no kissing, none of it.”

“Ugh fucking sucks,” Fenrys moaned but nodded reluctantly.

“Now that we are done with the boring convo, how about you tell us, honey, what is on your sweet ass?” Ruhn wondered.

Elain frowned, and twisted on Azriel’s lap, looking at her behind. “What’s on my ass?”

“Did he bite you?” Fenrys reached and stroked her ass cheek, his fingers gliding over the painful bite.

“I just marked her…gently,” Azriel shrugged and caressed her behind.

“I think ‘gently’ is a relative term,” Ruhn said. “Now honey, do you want it on your pretty bum forever? Or do you want it to heal?”

That was the beginning of the Kings’ honeymoon. 

Elain and Ruhn disappeared together somewhere, making Fenrys feel dejected, rejected and petulant. He was roaming the hallways and rooms of the house aimlessly, until Azriel ordered him to go and make a debt collecting run, because Fenrys was driving him crazy.

“Why didn’t she want to go with me?” 

“Fen, she’ll be with you tomorrow. You need to learn how to share. Now go, collect, and bring her a present!”

[erodasfishtacos]

The Brits Dilemma

” Prompt: Harry & Y/N go to the Brits. It’s the first time they’ve been away from their baby. Y/N is struggling but doesn’t want to ruin the night for her husband.

Word Count: 1.8 k +

Warnings: Depictions of breastfeeding

+++++++

The award show was going well. It was the first time Y/N had been out in nearly three months besides a few brunch dates and grocery shopping.

Usually, she was pretty confident in what she wore to accompany her husband to all of these flashy events - but not tonight.

Her bump had deflated but she was still attempting to get rid of the stubborn pouch that stayed after the baby had been born. It wasn’t anything out of the norm - just still trying to lose it.

She was breastfeeding and her breasts were much larger than before. They felt heavy and too big for her body. Not to mention, they were constantly swollen and achey. Pads were a must so she doesn’t leak through the tight satin black dress.

The dress was a beautiful custom design by Gucci that complimented Harry’s sharp suit but nothing felt right. It was digging into her sides and made it hard for her to sit on her chair.

The Brits were held in the O2 Arena which wasn’t very far from their London home but she felt like she was lightyears away from her baby. Even though she knew Sasha was in good hands with Anne.

Y/N was so proud of Harry for being up for five - yes, five different awards. It was a record for him and she didn’t want to let him down by complaining. It was his night. He’s been such a devote father - he deserved a break too.

So she swallowed down the anxiety she was feeling about being away from their little newborn for the night along with her worries about her changing body.

There was milling about between the tables before the show got started. Harry had people coming up him constantly - congratulating him on the album, the nominations, the baby.

Married life and fatherhood suited him well. A dazzling wedding band on his left ring finger, a necklace with an S for his daughter, along with her name freshly inked on right above his butterfly tattoo.

The open jacket he wore with is his barely buttoned dress shirt displayed it proudly. It was beautiful, done delicately in a timeless cursive. The font match his wife name that was tattooed on his hand.

He couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t excited to have a night out with his wife. He had Jeff booked a hotel for the night to have some alone time with you while his mum got to enjoy a night with her only grandchild.

Y/N was counting down the hours up until tomorrow when she could go home to see her baby. She should really tell Harry that she wants to go home and not out to a club and the hotel.

But the it just slowly starts to deteriorate further when a bald, plump business exec comes to greet the two of you. He gives his warm wishes about the birth of your child before smiling at Y/N and stating, “The baby weight will come off soon enough.”

Her throat closes up a bit and she self-consciously tries to push her chair closer to the table. It was the last thing that she needed to hear. Confirming all of her worst insecurities.

Harry glares at the man before turning to his wife, “Hey, you look s’perfect, my love. I’m so bloody lucky you’re mine.”

He’s truly trying his hardest to bring a smile to her face but he notices it’s never quite meeting her eyes. 

It get even worse when Harry gets his first award, male solo artist of the year. 

As she’s standing and clapping for him - she realizes she’s beginning to leak through her nipple inserts.

Y/N excuses herself in the middle of his acceptance speech to rush through the string of tables - out into the corridor. The last thing she wanted to do was for it to show up on a very expensive dress.

The echo of his voice can still be heard, “Love to thank my beautiful wife who makes writing sappy love songs easy and was the main inspiration for my recent album. She also just gave birth to our beautiful baby.....”

She feels awful when she tunes him out, finding the bathroom and hurriedly rushing in. There’s a gorgeous woman standing at the sink, washing their hands. 

Fucking Taylor Swift.

Any other time it’d be awkward and uncomfortable - running into an ex who wrote multiple songs about her husband.

But she couldn’t careless right now, “Hi, erm, this is really weird but could you unzip my dress? I’m leaking and - shit that was way too much information.”

But Taylor smiles kindly, “No! It’s okay, totally. No worries. Congratulations on your baby - you look so hot tonight.”

Y/N laughs and thanks her for unzipping the dress before going into a stall and locking the door. She slides her bra straps off her shoulders and disposes of the soaked pad in the sanitary bin.

Luckily, she has a clean burp rag that she gently swipes at her breast - wincing as it brushes against her swollen nipples. Even the soft fabric felt too rough on them.

It’s a minute or two before the bathroom door swings open, “Y/N? Lovie? Are you in ‘ere?”

She feels guilt at the panic in his voice. Managing to croak out, “I’m in here,” before leaning forward to unlock the door.

Harry waste no time in sliding into the stall before latching the lock again. Taking in the sight of his wife in front of him.

“I-I started leaking, M’sorry,” Y/N whispers, she has no reason to feel embarrassed but she is. “I missed your speech.”

“None of that, baby. I’ll give more speeches for you to hear - I only care that you’re okay. I’m sorry y’leakin, lemme help you, pet.”

In true Harry fashion, he takes the rag and turns on the sink - running it under warm water before carefully cleaning his wife up.

“Are they botherin’ you? They look irritated and super swollen, darling,” Harry frowns, a very gentle thumb coming to brush against her nipple. Then cupping her swollen breast in his hand, thumb rubbing at the pink skin.

“Just a little bit,” She lies, they’re absolutely on fire with chafing and skin irritation from the bra she’s wearing. She never thought she’d miss her nursing bras and sports bras this much.

He nods and helps place new inserts in her bra. Who’d think this is what Harry would be doing between accepting awards. Everyone unassuming in the arena.

**

Harry has been four for four thus far into the ceremony. They’d only had him go up and give two acceptance speeches. His hand firmly planted on his wife’s thigh throughout. 

When he went up for his second award, the camera zooms in and the crowd coos are he plants a kiss on his wife’s lips before pulling her into a hug - whispering something into her ear the audience can’t hear.

He was much more focused on his wife. He could read her fairly well - he’d like to think. Enough to know she’s having much fun. But he didn’t want to bring it up and make her feel bad.

Harry sees the way she keeps adjusting her bra, fidgets with his rings when his hands in his lap, and not even really looking up while one of her favorite artist - Dua Lipa -performs.

Y/N loved a good party before the baby. So Harry was hoping going to the Brits afterparty would make her feel better and then going back to their hotel room for a some alone time.

**

Y/N has been increasingly quiet when they’re exiting the arena after the final award artist of the year - which Harry had also won.

He was on cloud nine and admittedly a little distracted as he joked and laughed with a small group of friends on the way out. 

“Alright, should we all just pile into a cab for the ride to the party?” Nick Grimshaw asks everyone.

Everyone is in agreement - including Harry -as he calls to order one - standing in the blocked off area away from fans and paparazzi.

Y/N wants to tell him she wants to go home to Sasha but when she hears him say, “Can’t wait to get to Exhibit - haven’t been there in forever. One of my favorite clubs.”

She bites her tongue. Harry is enjoying his night out - why can’t she?

In the taxi, she’s sat on Harry’s lap as they make their way to the club. His one hand is on her inner thigh and the other is on her waist holding her steady.

In the morning, she’ll blame her post-partum hormones and anxiety. But she doesn’t even realizing her eyes are filling with tears and when she blinks they spill down her face.

She wouldn’t feel as embarrassed if she wasn’t in the car full of literal celebrities who are filled with adrenaline and excitement. Chattering and drinking from little liquor bottles they’d snuck in their jackets and clutches.

“Y/N, are you alright?” Rita Ora asks from her seat - noticing the streaks ruining your makeup.

She nods pathetically, wiping at her eyes but Harry is turning her to face him. His bright green eyes filled with concern as he studies her face.

The previously very obnoxiously loud cab becomes silent as they try to give the couple a semblance of non-existent privacy.

“What’s happening, dove? Are you hurting?” Harry panics, coming to wipe the smeared makeup away.

“I don’t want to go to the club,” Y/N sniffles, squeezing her eyes shut at how embarrassed she is of her behavior. She would usually never act this way - especially in public. And Harry knows that so it makes him even more concerned.

“That’s okay, pet. We can go have a night in, when the cab stops - we can uber back to the hotel,” Harry soothes, surprised when that brings on fresh tears.

“N-no, I want to go home. I miss the baby, I want to- need to see our baby. I-I can’t do this. My anxiety is through the roof, Harry. What if she can’t sleep? Or isn’t taking the bottle?”

“Baby, breathe, breathe. We can go home. I miss the bub terribly too. Have been worried about her all night.”

Harry tugs his wife into his chest further - tucking her head into his neck as he shoots his friends grateful looks. They all nod, sympathetic and understanding - despite them not having kids of their own.

**

“I ruined your night,” Y/N says softly in the back of the uber home. “I leaked during the show; cried in front of all your friends.”

Harry takes her chin gentle but firm until she meets his gaze, “You didn’t ruin anything f’me. All I care about is you and the baby - not some stupid award ceremony or party.”

He continues on, “You just gave us Sasha three months ago - y’bloody amazing. Best mum, best wife. Sexiest too - know you don’t think that right now but your body literally grew my baby. I get a hard-on everytime I see you.”

They both laugh, Y/N leaning forward to capture her husbands lips in a meaningful kiss of gratitude and thanks.

**

Anne smiles kindly when the two of them arrive home. A very fussy, red-faced swaddled baby coddled in her arms. 

“She hasn’t settled for quite a while now - she missed her parents very much,” Harry’s mum tells them, transferring her into her father’s arms. He’s automatically rocking and running his thumb over her cheek.

“Ooh, we missed you. Was Nana nice to you?” Harry coos. Sasha has already quieted and is blinking tearfully up at her smiling father.

“Such a good girl, best girl,” Y/N sighs, leaning in to kiss her downy hair. Harry’s hand coming to wrap around his wife’s waist as they peer down at their perfect little daughter.

Anne smiles at his son and daughter-in-law fawning over their little creation with so much love and adoration.

After a minute of chatting -Harry’s mum makes her way up to the guest room after a long night with a miserable baby. They make their way to their room where Y/N strips out of her tight dress and awful bra. 

She sits against the headboard in just a pair of soft cotton panties. Harry is gently shushing her and humming a melody as his wife gets situated. He knew she was anxious to feed the baby.

“That’s it my sweet thing. Y’missed us, hm? We missed you too, bub. Nana said y’wouldn’t take the bottle. Only want your mumma, hmm?” Harry coos, kissing her chubby cheeks.

He’s then giving Y/N the baby, who ferociously latching within seconds and begins eating like she’d been starved for the last week. Making weak little rumbles as she does so.

They both giggle fondly, Y/Ns fingers come to touch her fluttering cheek - memorizing her over and over again.

Harry gets onto the bed and settles next to the both of them. Watching his baby feed in amazement at what his wife was capable of. He smears a few kisses against her bare shoulder - hand on his baby’s back.

How strong she was - as he knew it had to be at least a little bit painful with how irritated her nipples had been. He can tell when she winces every once in a while.

He plants a few more kisses to her warm skin - noticing her eyes getting a bit droopy as Sasha feeds at a slow, suckling pace.

“If I’m being honest, being with you - watching you feed our baby...I’d rather be here than at any club.” 

Y/N snorts, rolling her eyes, “Sure.”

Her husband frowns, “M’serious, this is all I need, baby.”

“I love you, congratulation on all your Brits,” Y/N murmurs, pecking at his lips.

“I love you too. I meant it, during my speeches. I wouldn’t have been able to write those songs if you hadn’t inspired me. You’ll and the bab will always be the best muse.”