katie. 21. mainblog: @hellolitty
animanga x fanfiction x video games
Stranger Things
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Claire Keane
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
AnasAbdin
taylor price
trying on a metaphor

Janaina Medeiros

shark vs the universe
hello vonnie
Sade Olutola
Game of Thrones Daily
Peter Solarz
One Nice Bug Per Day
$LAYYYTER

@theartofmadeline
h
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Monterey Bay Aquarium
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from India
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Argentina
seen from United States

seen from France

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Colombia

seen from India
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
@lellokitty
katie. 21. mainblog: @hellolitty
animanga x fanfiction x video games
What if there is a Better Reader in the Backrooms and once Real Reader sees her, she gets jealous and protective over Better Bobby??
ok, ok, ok, but imagine.
you've been in the backrooms with Better Bobby for... who knows how long.
time is... a carpet, buzzing light and his almost-right smile. and you shouldn't be here. you know you shouldn't be here. but bobby (real bobby, your bobby, the bobby who asked you to be his girlfriend junior year and made you feel like the only person in the room before he started making you feel like the only person in a room he'd rather not be in) real bobby stopped trying.
real bobby got comfortable. real bobby started looking through you like you were furniture, answering "yeah that's cool" without looking up, forgetting plans you made, treating your presence like background noise he'd already tuned out. and you were so lonely. you were so lonely in a relationship that technically still existed, wearing your boyfriend's letterman jacket like a costume for a role he'd stopped rehearsing, and then you heard a voice in a wall.
or maybe it was always there. that door. maybe Better Bobby just finally opened it for you.
because that's how it happened, wasn't it? no one forced you. there was just a door that shouldn't have been there and a voice on the other side that sounded like bobby (like bobby on a GOOD day, like bobby when he still looked at you like you mattered) saying "hey, come here, i want to show you something" and you followed it because you were starving.
you were emotionally starving and something that sounded like the boy you loved was offering you a meal and you walked right in.
and Better Bobby has he's been everything. he's been real bobby with the volume turned up on all the parts that made you fall in love and all the parts that faded turned back on.
he remembers things you say. he asks follow-up questions. he angles himself between you and every dark hallway and when you talk he LOOKS at you with bobby's blue eyes and actually, fully, completely pays attention. he finds you blankets. he stays awake while you sleep. he hums bobby's little tuneless songs and when you wake up from nightmares about the smiling thing in the dark and flickering lights he says "i'm here, i'm right here" and means it in a way that real bobby hasn't meant anything in months.
and you've been indulging. you know you have. you've been leaning into it the way you lean into a hot bath: knowing it's temporary, knowing the water's going to cool, but right now it's warm and you're so cold and nobody has made you feel warm in so, so long.
lowkey need to see how real!bobby handles his girl's disappearance 🚬..delicious
pairing: bobby franklin x f!reader x entity!bobby contents/warnings: bobby's pov, emotional neglect in a relationship, heavy grief and loss, angsty in general, emotional volatility/verbal cruelty, alcohol abuse (clark), existential/cosmic horror (erasure from reality), self-loathing and guilt (told you he'll be going through it!) notes: we're giving this twink a character as promised! got carried away but surprisingly?? really like how it came out?? hope y'all enjoy, and excited to see if the tide changes on the Real Bobby hate lol.
📹better bobby series masterlist.
Real Bobby notices on a Tuesday.
Not right away. That’s the single most damning thing. The part that’ll eat at him later, that’ll sit in his chest like a hot coal for months, perhaps the rest of his goddamn life if he’s being honest.
He doesn't notice right away.
The first night, he figures you're pulling a double at the store. It's happened before. He eats cereal standing over the sink, leaves his bowl on the counter, sleeps diagonally. Doesn't think about it.
The second night, he's annoyed. You could've called. He almost picks up the apartment phone but gets distracted by something on TV, and the receiver stays in the cradle, your number undialed, and he falls asleep with the light on.
The third morning, he reaches for you.
It's not conscious, really. It's that old reflex in him. The one from the early days. Something he thought he trained out of himself because tenderness was starting to feel like a liability, so he resorted to laziness instead. His hand slid across the mattress toward the warm dip where you normally sleep. But his fingers find only cold sheets. Flat, undisturbed. No impression of a body. And something in Bobby’s chest pinches, just slightly, like a hand closing around a tender nerve.
He sits up. Looks at your side of the bed. The pillow still has the shape of your head from three nights ago. Nothing's been moved.
I love the idea of everything with better bobby being so intense and almost dreamlike, trippy from the beginning. Like being high (lmao) and fading in and out of a meaningful conversation that youre struggling to focus on as you sink into the couch. Meaning to dust a kiss on what you think is your unusually clingy bf’s cheekbone and between one moment and the next, what started as an innocent cheek kiss has resulted in you sliding against the wall until youre sat on that yellow floor, lap full of him as he essentially tries to stick as much of his tongue as he can down your throat. Hands confusedly going to his shoulders and he’s curled around and over you like a python, nosing your pulse with quick, shivery breaths, hand on our nape, and waist, reeling you to him as he pins you to the wall. Him getting the hint of a kiss and taking that to mean he can finally just.. do what he wants. It’s permission, right? You love him too? You must, you initiated contact. And now he can touch and touch and mouth and smell and nose and be the needy, raw animal crawling under a false skin that wants you so so sosososososososososososoossobad so bad so bad
˳ ˳ BETTER BOBBY SERIES.
Reality itself has a different consistency down here.
Time is soft. The edges blur. The hum does something to your brain you can't explain. There's this ambient frequency in this place and it does to your cognition what warm water does to muscle tension. Loosens it. Softens the borders between one moment and the next. Until everything has this gauzy, slow-motion, underwater quality where you can't quite tell where a thought ends and a feeling begins.
You're lying on the blankets and Better Bobby is beside you and he's been clingy today. Clingier than usual anyway. Which is saying something, because his baseline is already I need to be touching you at all times or I will simply cease to exist.
His head is on your chest and his arm is across your waist, his fingers drawing patterns on your hip through your shirt. You're talking. Having a conversation. A real one. But you can't quite hold the thread.
You keep meaning to finish your sentence but the hum is so warm and his weight is so warm... and his fingers are doing that thing where the warmth-that-reads-you is bleeding through the contact.
Not deliberately, just passively. The way a radiator bleeds heat, and your thoughts keep drifting.
"—and I was trying to tell Clark that the shelving unit was—"
Better Bobby shifts. His nose pushes into the curve of your neck between one blink and next. A slow, animal press. Not a kiss. Just... contact. Scent. You feel him inhale.
"—was, um—the brackets were wrong, and he—"
His mouth opens against your throat. Not a kiss. Just his lips. Parted. Resting there. You can feel his breath on your pulse point. Damp. Quick.
"—he wouldn't listen, he never—"
if only Gyatso had run away with Aang
*clears throat* gf starts stealing bobby's slutty crop tops and wears it around the house with only underwear on. he chases her cause those are his fav shirts (i see bobby as a lil diva) and then they fall into bed together laughing <3 (im joking they fuck hard)
truly building empires over here!!! slightly suggestive but mostly just playful and short! no real movie spoilers aside from few characterisation details. enjoy!
Bobby doesn't even notice at first.
He's rolling a joint on the kitchen counter, shirtless because it's August in Santa Clara and the apartment's been holding heat all day like a brick oven. He's got his sunglasses pushed up into his hair and his chain's sticking to his chest with sweat. In truth, he's entirely focused on not spilling weed on the counter again because last time he spent twenty minutes picking it out of the grout lines and it was a whole thing.
Then you stroll past him.
In his favourite cropped Metallica tee. The one he cut himself with kitchen scissors, thank you very much, and the raw hem is intentional, it's art even. Yet right now, it's hanging off your frame, the hem barely grazing your navel. Underwear on. Nothing else. Bare feet on the tile, walking like you don't have a care in the goddamn world.
The joint falls apart in his hands.
"Hey. Hey. That's mine."
You don't even turn around. Just keep drifting toward the living room like you can't hear him, late afternoon sun coming through the blinds and catching the backs of your thighs.
Bobby abandons the weed. Full priority shift. He pushes off the counter and follows. "Babe. Baby. That is my favourite shirt. Do you understand what I went through to get that? I drove to San Jose for that. The guy at the shop tried to charge me double because it was vintage and I had to negotiate—"
"It looks better on me."
"It—okay, objectively untrue, I have the shoulders for it, we both know this, but that's not even the point—"
bobby franklin x reader [mdni] — your boyfriend splashes out on a new camcorder and insists on testing it out on you.
“State your name for the record.”
“You know my name, Bobby.”
“The camera doesn’t.”
Said camera has barely left Bobby’s hands since he’d brought it home two days ago, much to your chagrin. It had taken the entirety of those two days—when you weren’t at work, anyway—for him to convince you to be his muse on your day off. You weren’t even sure what you were signing up for.
YOUR 'BETTER BOBBY' FIC WAS SO GOOD! if you ever felt inspired would LOVE to read more about them. maybe another entity attacks them and they get separated? and alone and lost, reader can't help but miss the real Bobby ahhh. anyway, love you, thank you for writing!
I'm so glad you're all loving this idea, because inspiration hit me so hard I wrote this in one sitting. Continuation to this. Def let me know if you wanna see more 👀 warnings: horror (finally got to write my true love), and some gore (nothing explicit/implied)
You've been here long enough that you've stopped counting the hallways.
That, in hindsight, should probably scare you the most. The fact that it doesn't scare you anymore.
The yellow used to make your skin crawl, that specific shade of institutional sick. Now it's just... the colour of home. Better Bobby's taught you that. Through sheer repetition of safety.
Every time he pulls you into a new room and checks the corners before letting you sit down. Every time he angles his body between you and a doorway without thinking about it. Or when he hands you something to eat. You've stopped asking where the food comes from. That's another question that goes in circles every time you try it. He watches you until you take a bite, satisfied, like feeding you is the only task on a list he takes very seriously.
You have a room now. Your room. He found it for you three (days? rotations? sleeps?) ago, deeper in Level 0 than you'd been before, tucked behind a series of turns that he walked so confidently you wondered if he'd planned the route in advance.
It's quieter than the others. The carpet is thicker, the hum lower, and there's a warm patch on the floor near the far wall where some buried pipe must be running. Better Bobby dragged every blanket he'd scavenged into a pile on that warm spot and when you'd looked at him he'd shrugged, one shoulder, earring catching the fluorescent light.
"What? You get cold."
Real Bobby used to steal the covers.
OKAY WAIT YOURE THE RIGHT PERSON I HAVE TO TELL THIS TO: Coraline AU x Backrooms AU for Bobby Franklin x reader
Okay so Bobby and reader are together but he’s grown brasher, ruder and arrogant these past few months. Long story short, he’s grown tired of you and he treats you like shit. But he hasn’t really broken it off yet. He can’t bring himself to. He’s grown used to you and he doesn’t wanna go through the whole process of breaking up and moving out and whatever whatever. And you love him too much to do anything, so you just deal with it. Hoping that one day he’ll be how he used to when you first got together.
So one night at the store when you’re pulling a night shift alone, (Bobby had left early, he wasn’t gonna stay and do night shift with you asshole) you hear thumps coming from the lower level. You’re scared but you grab a hardware knife and keep it close as you quietly go down to explore the noise.
Once you reach the extra storage level, you hear it: Bobby’s voice calling from inside the wall. At first you’re convinced that you’ve gone crazy. But no, it’s him. And he’s gently luring you in, “babe, I can see you. gosh you look so cute with that scared look on your face. come here.” You look around in confusion, but a tiny thump from behind the wall grabs your attention. “Yes. Here. C’mere babe.”
You stop in front of the wall. And when you lean in close to press your ear against the wall, poof you stumble into the room and fall on your ass. Your head spins as you blink awake, and immediately you’re hit with ugly neon yellow wallpaper. You look around the room before your gaze locks on … Bobby?
You freeze in surprise. There he is, same white shirt and denim shorts, same camera dangled over his shoulder, and a sickeningly charming smile on his face that you haven’t seen since the beginning of your relationship. Something isn’t right. He doesn’t smile at you like that anymore.
But before you can say anything, he’s walking closer to you until he’s gently cupping your face in his hands. “Hello babe, missed you. You are NOT going to believe this place!” Slowly, with an arm draped over your shoulders, he’s guiding you further and further away from that spot on the wall that you came in here from. You look around. Something makes your stomach churn with unease. It’s yellow everywhere, hallways everywhere. Yet ‘Bobby’ seems to know this place like the back of his hand.
When you finally snap and ask him who he is, he simply smiles that sickening smile again before cupping your cheeks and pressing a tender kiss on your lips. “It’s me, Bobby. Better Bobby.”
Now he just has to convince you to never leave him again. To never go back the ‘other Bobby’. To a dull life where ‘other Bobby’ can’t love you as best as he can. That he’ll never neglect you like ‘other Bobby’ that he can be better. That the only condition is that you stay in here with him forever.
[part 2]
The thing that makes Better Bobby so dangerous is that he's not a bad time at all.
He's not some obvious monster wearing Bobby's face wrong. He doesn't glitch. He doesn't flicker. He's warm. He's present in a way real Bobby hasn't been in months. Maybe longer, if you're honest with yourself, and Better Bobby makes you honest because he makes you feel safe enough to be.
The first few days—hours? time is slippery here, the fluorescent lights don't change and there are no windows and Better Bobby just shrugs when you ask how long you've been here, says does it matter, baby? and the worst part is you can't think of a good reason why it does.
The first stretch of time is almost easy. Dangerously, seductively easy.
He finds rooms for you. Not just any rooms, the good ones. Quiet ones, with carpet instead of that damp yellow tile, where the humming of the lights isn't quite so loud.
He sets up a little nest of blankets he found god-knows-where and pulls you into his chest and plays with your hair and talks to you in that low, lazy voice. The one real Bobby used to use on Sunday mornings when neither of you had anywhere to be. He asks you questions about your day. Your day. When's the last time real Bobby did that? When's the last time real Bobby looked at you while you were talking instead of at his pager or through the viewfinder or at literally anything else?
Better Bobby looks at you like you're the only thing in the room. Which, technically, you are. But still.
And he keeps you safe. That's the part that really gets its hooks in.
Avalanche [27] - Jealousy
A.N: Hi my loves! 🩷 Thank you so so much for your wonderful support, you've made me so happy! 🩷I hope you'll like this one as well, and please let me know what you think🩷 ILYSM, kisses! 🩷
Pairing: Robb Stark x F!Reader
Summary: Rumors can cause jealousy.
Word Count: 4,7k
Warnings: Explicit language, adult themes, suggestive themes. MDNI- Do not read if you're under 18.
Series Masterlist
Back in the Reach, when Lady Olenna hired that lady of the night to tutor you and Margaery on marital acts and what husbands liked, she had assured both of you that unlike what everyone around you kept telling you, your name, your family’s wealth, any heirs you’d have with your future husband; none of that was a guarantee that he would fall in love with you.
According to her, it was all about how mesmerizing you would be, and your marital bed was the key. That night, while you and Margaery laid in the bed trying to silence your giggles so as not to wake Loras again and get a scolding, you had both agreed that it was exaggeration; surely it couldn’t have been the case for everyone.
But judging by Robb’s reaction after what you had done last night, you were beginning to believe that lady.
still thinking about boyfriends dad
him walking into the kitchen one morning in only his underwear, cock hard and heavy enough it bounces against his thigh when he walks. he doesnt acknowledge it; he pours himself a cup of coffee and gives you a nod.
"you're staring at me," he says.
neither one of you have acknowledged the tension between you. the way he watches your lips and the way you undo your bikini tops when you sunbathe by the pool.
"I'm just really hungry all of a sudden," you say. "Your son fed me before he left, but he just... didnt fill me up."
the next day, you get your coffee in just your panties and your favorite bra. he's back again, just as hard as he scooches behind you to grab the pot from the percolator. his cock is press against your ass and you can feel how thick he really is.
"did you get your fill this morning?" he asks from over your shoulder.
"no," you press back slightly. "I'm ravenous."
"You think he'd be more like his father. I always make sure my woman are stuffed."
You two get into a habit of hugging when you say good morning. He wraps his arms around you and keeps you tight so you can feel him against your stomach. Sometimes he lifts you on to the counter to "hug you better". like that his cock is pressed right up against your cunt, angled perfectly as if he's about to enter you.
"Best hug we've ever had," he whispers with a roll of the hips.
running into him in the middle of the night after your boyfriend failed to get it up.
"take it out," you whisper. "I need to see it."
and he does, giving to a couple long, languid strokes until it starts to thicken. it's bigger thsn you thought.
"i'll give it to you," he says, stepping closer until you're nearly chest to chest.
"Not while he's home." you cant pull your eyes from him "I want to be loud when you stretch me out."
he nods, but takes your hand in his and guides it to his crotch, forcing you to cup him.
"Feel how heavy my balls are?" he asks "That's all for you."
dyanna dayne and her son aerion targaryen
The air tastes of concrete and ash, the dust from the chaos still settling. Bakugo's mouth is filled with grit and no matter how much he tries to spit he can feel it rub against his gums and coat his tongue. It's knocked a contact out of his left eye and its somehow gotten down the back of his pants and rubbed his ass raw. As he emerges from the rubble, it takes effort not to hack up his lungs; his head is swimming and the lack of oxygen might actually make him pass out. Instead, he rubs the snot off of his face with his sleeve-
"Ew."
Of course, you look picture perfect. Your new costume is pristine, your hair is somehow still styled, and your skin looks better than ever: somehow you've managed to leave a building collapse looking better than ever.
"You look terrible."
"Where the fuck were you?" Bakugo spits again.
"Three feet behind you." The way you smile pisses him the fuck off. Everything you've done since you hit the scene pisses him off. "I put up a shield."
Your quirk also enrages him. Perfect little bubble shields that his blasts don't break. It actually makes the two of you great mission partners because he can go apeshit without worrying about singeing your eyebrows off, but he'd rather die than admit that.
"And you couldn't get me too?"
"Hm, I guess not." You adjust yourself with a shrug, turning on your heel towards the street. "Oopsie."
The dryness in his mouth is getting painful. "Oopsie? Are you fucking kidding me?"
"Sorry, I thought the ranked 16th hero could take care of himself," you fake a pout. "But I guess you need help from number 14."
"Fuck off." He stands and tries to wipe off his face with his dirty gloves. "You couldn't have done shit without me doing the hard work."
"Sorry, I can't hear you from all the way down the popularity polls."
"Oh-" Bakugo nearly snaps, but instead geits hos teeth so tight that he thinks he might have chipped a molar
"I'll be sure to thank you in my interview. They tend to give pretty people the front page."
The major publications do give you the front page. You give the tightest, cutest little speech about the power of teamwork and loving this community and blah blah blah, all of which makes him roll his fucking eyes. You take a couple pictures with Bakugo, but the picture of you that ends up on social media is of just you, sparkly and perfect.
The picture that the tabloid accounts post are very, very different.
"Holy shit."
Bakugo near drops the phone when the post comes across his Twitter feed. It's you from behind, bent over to grab something, and your costume is having a... malfuction. It's halfway up your ass, so tight that he's sure he could make out the shape of your pussy if the picture wasn't blurred.
Bakugo is googling for the uncensored picture before he can feel any shame about it. They're out there and his suspicions were right-- he can tell how soft your pussy is just from looking at it. It's probably feel nice to close his teeth around you softly, just enough to feel the shape of it in his mouth, just enough to get you to gasp. The real bite would be out of your ass, right where it's the meatiest so he could get the biggest mouthful of you.
Bakugo's cock twitches.
He puts down his phone.
Then, he picks it back up. And put in back down. Then, he picks it up again and closes the tab before making a call.
"Hey." Bakugo says the moment you pick up the phone. "Nice ass."
There's a bit too much sincerity to that, but you don't seem it notice.
"You're the worst," you seethe before the line goes dead. It feels like a hollow victory as he leans back into his couch, trying to shake the weird feeling his chest has accumulated. He doesn't like you in the slightest, your costume is just cut extremely high on your hips, that's it. He's just a man, he can't help the primal instinct of wanting--
That thought makes him sneer at himself. Gross. Before he can admonish himself more, his phone is vibrating.
"Hel-"
"At least I have an ass; you're built like a board." Your voice snaps through the receiver.
"Fuck you. I have a bubble butt-"
"Are you a teenaged girl? Get off of tiktok."
"Fuck you." Bakugo wants to bite you in a different way now.
"Get a bigger costume."
Avalanche [26] - Moonstone
A.N: Hi my loves! 🩷 Thank you so so much for your wonderful support, you've made me so happy! 🩷I hope you'll like this one as well, and please let me know what you think🩷 ILYSM, kisses! 🩷
Pairing: Robb Stark x F!Reader
Summary: Honeymoon is made better with gifts.
Word Count: 4k
Warnings: Explicit language, adult themes, suggestive themes. MDNI- Do not read if you're under 18.
Series Masterlist
Life in the North was full of responsibilities.
Robb knew that. As the heir to House Stark and the future Lord of Winterfell, he had always known he would have responsibilities to his house, his family, and the north.
However, as a new husband, he also had responsibilities to his wife, and those outweighed anything and everything else, in spite of the rest of the realm thinking otherwise.
btw I think your father met your knight right after he's appointed to his position in the military. its a gathering of some sorts, one where the knight is forced to be there and he's miserable-
until he catches a glimpse of you across the way. you're laughing with friends and he thinks it's the prettiest sound in the whole world. Your dress is like the waves of the Sapphire Sea: a brilliant blue he did not know fabric could be, capped white hems, and glittering gems scattering throughout the design.
"Do you know who that is?" a man says to the knight, gesturing with his glass of wine.
"No. It's wrong of me to stare," the knight says without thinking. "But think she may be the most beautiful girl in the world."
The man laughs.
They talk for a while, about life, about how the knight's family is from Theesa and the man sails there often, how the knight is now a commander, how the men under him are being taught how to behave. The mention their time in the Golden City and how the knight pays for his mother to live there, near her friends and the sea.
"Are you married?" the man asks suddenly and the knight is taken aback.
"Life in the knighthood hasn't left me with many options for marriage."
"Do you wish to have a wife?"
The knight is even more surprised. It takes him a moment to answer, voice suddenly soft. "I would. A family as well."
"You are in luck. My daughter needs to be wed."
"I could never deserve her hand-"
"Nonsense. I do not care about title; I care if you will treat my beloved daughter the way she deserves," the man says. "If I could take care of her forever, I would, but I fear I will die one day. She will need a husband. If she likes you, her hand will be yours."
Before the knight can reply, the man calls for his daughter.
And the most beautiful girl in the world turns around.
im still turning over the idea but I dont think you have a very romantic first time with your knight husband. he's home for a fortnight and you gather the courage to do to his quarters one night. he's half dressed, body darkened from the sun and heavily scarred, muscles soft from good meals-
"We should consummate the marriage."
He turns away.
"That isn't necessary."
"It is."
The two of you watch each other for a long while, stuck there, in uncertainty. He always watches you with wide eyes and you nearly laugh when you realize he reminds you of a deer in the tree-line, debating whether the hide or flee.
"I have never done any of this," you admit. "I will not be as impressive as others you may have-"
"That is the second time you have implied I have other lovers." Your husband cuts in. "I have devoted myself to you. I will not stray."
"Most men do. Those long months away-"
"Most men deserve death, then."
mr knight and his arranged marriage wife having intense, late night sessions playing chess together
i think its the first thing you two really have in common. You notice a chess set, clearly gifted, and perk up immediately, offering to teach him to play.
he. absolutely cleans the floor with you multiple times.
and he's smiling the entire time
thats not to say you aren't a good chess player. You're very good.
He's just... better.
though, you find on nights where you wear your looser gowns, the ones that gap at the top, the chemise that's nearly see through, he seems to forget how to play
the first night you play is quiet. both of you focus on the game and awkward small talk.
the second night, as you're moving your first pawn, you gingerly ask a question.
"Why is your second staying here?" Your bat your eyelashes as you ask. "Does he not have family to return to?"
Your husband rolls his head back and forth, sucking air through his teeth.
"I don't know if I should divulge."
That makes you sit up.
"Is it dangerous? Related to espionage or battle-"
"No, no, it's... He has fallen out of favor with his wife." He moves his piece confidently, the painted stone clicking against the tile. Tonight, you play on his bed, on top of the covers, both of you lounging long. "He has been with her for seven years. Their eldest just turned five."
You wait for more, but he gestures to the board, waiting for your move. Once you move another pawn, he continues.
"Last time we went to his estate, he brought home his bastard, who was born five days before his eldest," he says. His eyes is focused on the board, but you know the knit in his brow isn't because of your chess prowess. "Now, he expects her to raise the boy, who is now the firstborn and will inherit the family estate."
The pieces of the game go flying when you reach over and shove the man by the shoulder. he nearly falls off the side of the mattress, stumbling to catch himself.
"Shut up!" Your voice echoes down the hall from the volume. Your husband looks shocked, eyes wide, mouth popped open.
"Why did you hit me?!" he says, aghast. " I didn't do it!"
"These are things you tell your wife!" you say. "Why are you friends with such a slut of a man?"
"We-- slut?"
"Slut! I'm allowed to curse, am I not?"
"My wife is allowed to do whatever she likes for the rest of her life!"
There's a very unfortunate side effect of staying up late with uour husband and its that you really, really, truly want to fuck him.
You were the type of little girl to imagine your future husband sweeping you off of your feet and kissing you. After puberty those thoughts drifted into getting the daylights fucked out of you by a strong, handsome man, one with big hands and large biceps-
And now you have that man.
And he wants to play chess instead of with your body.
you start losing harder because you're stuck thinking about him and what he's keeping from you.
"Are you well?" he asks suddenly. "You usually play so nicely."
Well, you're thinking about him climbing on top of you
"There's an opportunity for your knight to mount my queen."
"The only thing my knight should mount is me."