labour . . . regulus black

the capillaries in my eyes are bursting,
if our loved died, would that be the
worst thing? for somebody i thought
was my saviour, you make me do a
whole lot of labour. the calloused
skin on my hands is cracking, if our
love ends would that be a bad thing?
and the silence haunts our
bedchamber, you make me do
too much labour. all day, every day,
therapist, mother, maid, nymph then
a virgin, nurse then a servant, just an
appendage, live to attend him so that
he never lifts a finger. 24/7 baby machine
so he can live out his picket-fence dream.
it's not an act of love if you make her, you
make me do too much labour.

regulus black x afab!reader
started : 7/5/24
ended : ______