#I’ll nuzzle you with a knife - I LIKE IT tHaT WAY

[laylajeffany]

Wednesday learns that ultimately, the body does in fact, keep the score. A raw and achy chapter, with some lovely resolution as this story marks the halfway point. And, I hit my goal of surpassing my previous writing record, with 215k written this month! 🎉☠️ I have entirely too much going on for it to happen again in February, but it was a very fun, story-filled start to 2025.

Thank you for all the love and encouragement along the way!

[l0vergirlsw0rld]

first christmas at the cabin

scrooge!loganxwarm!reader

a/n: i really burned out with kinktober and I'm so sorry guys. I'm also a university student and that was getting a bit hard to juggle and keep up with, but alas! it's winter break! here's a christmas-y fic with logan. <

wc: 1k

18+ MDNI | sexual themes, FLUFF, Christmas?

summary: Y/N tries to get Logan to decorate the tree with her.

The snow fell softly outside the cabin, covering everything in a lush, white blanket. Inside, the warm glow of the fire danced along the walls. The bare tree in the corner of the room brought a refreshing smell of pine that paired well with the existing aroma of whiskey—Logan’s favourite. You were nuzzled deep into the couch with a blanket, wearing an oversized sweater that fell just above your knees and a pair of festive socks, complete comfort for a stormy night like this one. Across from you, lounging in his favourite armchair, was Logan. He worked on a wooden carving, a hobby he'd never admit having picked up to anyone. He worked with his flannel sleeves rolled up, exposing his forearms covered in tufts of dark hair that flexed with each flick of his knife, a delicious sight to see.

“Remind me again why you made me drag this tree in here,” Logan grumbled, setting down his carving with a thud on the side table next to him. “Doesn’t look any different in here than when it was outside.”

You chuckled softly, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself. “Oh, come on, Logan. Don’t be such a Scrooge,” you teased, your eyes sparkling as they drifted toward the bare tree. “It’s Christmas, having a tree inside is part of the magic.”

Logan snorted, leaning back in his chair and reaching for his glass of whiskey on the side table. “Magic, huh? I don’t see what’s so magical about a mess of needles I’m gonna be sweeping up until June.”

“You won’t be sweeping anything. I’ll do it,” you replied with a smirk, fully aware that Logan would never let you, his little spoiled princess, near a broom. “Besides, you’ll like it once it’s decorated.”

“Doubt it,” he muttered, taking a sip of his drink, though the way his eyes lingered on you told a different story.

You stretched, letting the blanket fall to your lap as you got up from the couch. The oversized sweater moved with you, revealing the tops of your thighs as you walked. Logan’s gaze flickered toward your exposed skin, and you caught it, grinning knowingly as you made your way over to the box of ornaments and lights you’d pulled from storage earlier.

“Well, if you’re not going to help, I guess I’ll just do it myself,” you said, bending over with an extra arch, and rummaging through the box.

Logan let out a low growl from behind you. “Careful, kid. You’re playing with fire.”

You glanced over your shoulder, your grin widening as you held up a tangled string of lights. “What, this? Pretty sure it’s just Christmas lights, Logan.”

He set his glass down, the chair creaking as he stood. “Not the lights, darlin’. You.”

You held your breath instinctively as you felt him move closer, anticipating his next move. You tugged mindlessly on the tangled wires, trying to loosen them up. Logan stopped to a halt behind you and reached around to grab the lights you were fiddling with. His fingers brushed against yours, sending a shiver up your spine.

“You're gonna' electrocute yourself,” he said, his voice low, his breath hot against your ear. “Move.”

You stepped aside, watching as he worked to untangle the lights with surprising patience. His hands were rough but precise, the very hands that wielded claws, now delicately working through a knot of Christmas lights.

“Look who's helping with decorating,” you said, leaning against the arm of the couch with a triumphant grin.

Logan didn’t look up, but his lips twitched in a smirk. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get used to it.”

Once the lights were untangled, he handed them back to you, stepping back with his arms crossed. “Alright, go ahead. Let’s see what you got, kid.”

You laughed shaking your head as you started draping the lights around the tree. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“Been told,” he replied, leaning against the wall and watching you work. His gaze was intense, but there was a softness there, too, one he tried to hide but couldn’t quite manage.

By the time you’d finished with the lights and started adding ornaments, the cabin felt even cozier, the tree slowly coming to life with each decoration. Logan joined in eventually, though he complained the entire time.

“This thing’s crooked,” he said, adjusting one of the heavier ornaments you’d placed too close to the edge of a branch.

“It’s called charm,” you replied, standing on tiptoes to reach a higher branch.

Logan steadied you with a hand on your waist, his grip firm but gentle. “Call it what you want, but it looks like it’s gonna fall over any second.”

“It won’t. Trust me.”

He grumbled something under his breath but didn’t let go until you were safely back on the ground.

When the tree was finally done, you stepped back, hands on your hips as you admired your work. The lights twinkled softly, casting a warm glow that made the room feel magical.

“What do you think?” you asked, glancing at Logan.

He stared at the tree for a moment, then at you, his expression softening. “Not bad,” he said gruffly.

“Not bad?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow. “That’s all I get after all that effort?”

He smirked, stepping closer and tugging you toward him by the hem of your sweater. “Alright, fine,” he said, his voice dropping to a low rumble. “It’s beautiful, Is that what you want to hear? But not as beautiful as you.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly. “That was cheesy.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, his hands sliding to your hips. “But it’s Christmas, right? Guess I’m allowed to be a little soft.”

“Just a little?” you teased, looping your arms around his neck.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was slow and tender, with just enough heat to make your knees weak. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“Merry Christmas, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice rough but filled with affection.

You smiled, your fingers playing with the collar of his flannel. “Merry Christmas, Logan.”

As the snow continued to fall outside, the two of you stood there, wrapped in the warmth of each other and the glow of the tree. It was simple, quiet, and perfect—just like the man you’d come to love.

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[slasher-fxcker]

I’m a sucker for hurt/comfort fics, can I get Bo and Thomas being held hostage by a victim please? God I love the way you write Bo ^.^

A/N: Yesssss, I too love this! Hope you enjoy!!

Bo & Thomas having their S/O taken hostage by a victim.

Warnings: Guns, Violence, Swearing. 18+ blog MDNI.

Bo Sinclair

If you asked, Bo would say he isn’t afraid of anything. He always saw himself as fearless, he had seen so much in his life that he didn’t think anything could shake him.

That was until he heard your scream, one of the victims had gotten away from them and they had been searching, shotgun in hand, for at least an hour. When he heard your scream it killed him, you were his life now. Maybe he hadn’t quite realised it but in that moment the thought of you being hurt by the victim, or worse, pained him in a way he’d never felt before.

He raced to the house as fast as he could, he had to grab the wall as he skidded through the door and up the stairs to your room.

His whole body shook in fear as he noticed the handle on your door had been broken and that you were nowhere to be seen. “Fuck!” he yelled running back down the stairs to Vincent, “He took her, that bastards gonna get what’s coming to him,” he sent Vincent back out to look for you while he went to the kitchen to get his keys but what he saw made him still instantly.

Bo called your name quietly as the man pressed the knife closer to your throat making you flinch. “Put the gun down or I’ll do it, I’ll slit her throat.” Bo felt the familiar rage boiling up inside him at this point, how dare he talk about you like that, how dare he threaten to hurt you.

Bo surprisingly kept his cool, raising both hands and placing the shot gun on the table between you before taking a step back. “There, now let her go. Take my truck just let her go.” You had never seen Bo like this before, the pleading in his eyes as they flickered between you and the man. The man started moving forward towards the door still holding you close to him, Bo didn’t take his eyes off of him as he moved towards the exit. Bo was going to kill him, you knew that, he was going to rip him apart for even threatening you. As the man got to the door he looked at the door and then you, “Hey! I said let her go.” Bo seemed to spook the man who pushed you towards him and made a run for it. Vincent must have heard the ruckus and caught the man just as he reached the front door.

Bo wrapped his arms around you holding you close to him, his hand was brushing your hair out of your face as he whispered to you, “You're okay, you're safe now.” He repeated over and over as he just held you, you weren’t sure if he was convincing you or himself.

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas wiped the remaining blood on a rag before wrapping his arm around your waist, pulling you against him and nuzzling into your neck. Giggling you gave him a playful shove, “Lunch will never be ready if you keep it up.” He just huffs, placing a kiss to your neck before getting himself a drink. The poor man didn’t even get a chance to sit down before Hoyt was yelling demands at him again. “I’m going to check out the roads again. Get outside and finish setting the traps up out the back.” Thomas placed his cup down with a sigh, gently caressing the side of your face before making his way outside.

It wasn’t long before you heard some noises coming from behind the basement door, you were used to it at this point and as much as it bothered you, you knew you had to ignore it. You didn’t get to think twice about it before a man came bursting from behind the door. You froze, looking towards the knife on the table you leapt towards it, unfortunately the man seemed to have noticed your gaze and reached the knife before you did. “Scream and you die.”

He steps towards you and you pull away as he tries to grab you. The scuffle gained the attention of Monty who soon rolled into the kitchen, seeing you being manhandled he began yelling for Thomas. The man grabbed you by the hair and dragged you out the front towards the cars. You didn’t know how far Thomas had wandered away from the house, would he have heard Monty? Would he reach you in time?

It wasn’t long before you heard the roar of the chainsaw you tried to turn to look for Thomas but the man’s hold on you is too tight. You hear the chainsaw getting louder but you're getting too close to the cars now. You have no weapon and the grip the man has on you is unbreakable. Panic starts to set in, you're frantically searching for anything to get you away from him. You notice the man has a slight limp, readying yourself you use all your strength and kick him in the side of the knee as hard as you can, he buckles and let’s go of you in the process.

You turn and run towards Thomas as fast as you can, he slows down as he reaches you quickly looking you over to make sure you're safe before running after the soon to be dead man. He doesn’t hesitate before impaling him with the chainsaw. Dropping it immediately when he’s finished with the man.

When Thomas reaches you, you can see the pain in his eyes. He drops to his knees in front of you, face lowered and avoiding eye contact. You know Thomas always blames himself, for you being stranded here, for the life you’ve been forced to lead, for you being hurt. You kneel down and cup his cheek coaxing him to look at you. “I’m okay Tommy, were okay.” You continue reassuring him, as the words seem to sink in he gently pulls you into his lap his arms wrapping around you. You don’t know how long you stay there before Thomas sends you inside while he cleans up the mess. Expect that Thomas will be very needy and protective over the next few weeks, he needs to know you're there and you're okay. Thomas doesn’t know what he would do without you in his life and he never wants to find out.

[pedge-page]

Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife #10 : Snack Time

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Momma bird hungry for all the snacks in the world. Takes some time and frustration before Joel figures out the exact kind of snack you really want.

Warnings: Pregnant reader, Angry!Joel, oral M!receiving, face fucking, throat bulge, throat-pie, dumbification, junk food binge, eating meat, bossy reader as always

18+ ONLY

- - - -

Joel didn’t know he married the Hungry Hungry Hippo, Galactus the planet devourer, Garfield the tabby cat.

You’re on your phone texting while cuddling Joel. He’s more interested in the movie than you are, but that doesn’t stop him from tracing his finger along your arm, occasionally kissing the top of your head and nuzzling his nose. He loves the scent of your shampoo after a wash, damp and cold against his warm chest. Sometimes you protest how closely he wants to cuddle you, all smushed up on the couch. Your body temp skyrocketed with the baby changing everything. But since he’s keep the AC on full blast, your warm heavy body keeps him from being a popsicle.

The landlines chimes in from the kitchen.

He rolls his eyes. Of course, something to interrupt the comfort that took 40 minutes for you to settle into. "I'll get it,” He grumbles quickly and hoists himself up off the couch. He wants to make whoever the fuck is calling at such a late hour a quick convo. If it’s fucking Tommy needing bailed out again, he thinks begrudgingly, I’ll just hang up on him. 

He clears his throat and answers: “Hello, Miller Residents.”

"Can you get me a bowl of Cap'n crunch while you're up?"

He glances back over at you sitting up on the couch, your cell to your ear as you wave at him. you point to your belly mouthing I T S  F O R  T H E  B A B Y.

It’s for the baby, my ass. You’ve been a hungry hungry hippo who’s been snacking like crazy and ignoring the doctor’s warnings. 

But cranky Momma is way worse than a scolding doctor. 

He grits his teeth and slams the receiver a little too hard down on the desk.

You can hear him shuffling around in the kitchen, a clash of a bowl on the counter  and the jingle of overly processed cereal filling it up. 

He walks back into the living room. You’ve taken up the whole couch now, with no inclination to move over to let him back on.

You shove a fist into the bowl and pop a bunch of the crunchy orange squares into your mouth “f’anks” you mumble, eyes not once making contact with him as you stare ahead and much away. Crumbs fall onto your chest and down to the floor and sofa, as if Joel hadn’t just cleaned all of it this morning.

.

The next night, Joel's cooking some steaks. You weren’t really a meat-crazed person, having maybe one or two helpings of poultry or occasionally red beef a week, but normally ,you could go without it for a few meals without thinking about it. 

Pregnant momma? She was a fucking carnivore. He had barely set the sizzling steak down before you snatch one onto your plate. He turns around to slice into one, checking its temp before serving, only to see it was a bit too red and bloodied on the inside.

"Oh babe I gotta cook these a little longer; they're too rare--"

You were hacking away and tearing a large chunks of the red, near pulsing meat, juices pouring out your lips, a vampire gorged on a fat blood sucking meal. Despite its tenderness, you chew endlessly and stare off into the table like a Llama enjoying its food on the field. 

"Maybe...we should—slow down a bit,” he suggests with uncertainty. His fork and knife frozen in midair, still in each hand. He hasn’t shifted view or blinked, but clear worry (and maybe a tad bit of fear) stretch across his face.

"Uighgrrfmggmmdeeofxsw,” you reply with gargled cow remains sloshing in your wide open trap. 

 “Right. That."

You swallow what’s left. Joel’s does a double take: your steak is somehow gone, juice licked clean off the plate in front of you.

“Can I have yours???"

He had only sliced 4 cuts  for himself so far. But the hungry look in your pupils, licking your lips while watching his dinner, it’s clear you’ve answered for him. He sadly sets his cutlery down and slides his plate to you. 

Its even more interesting when you douse it in salt and throw a slab of butter on top of it, watching it melt before slicing a big chunk off.

"You gotta watch the salt intake—“

“—Can you make chicken? I want chicken now.”

“N-no,” he shakes his head, whiplash from the conversation. Maybe you’ve gone def AND blind AND lost your taste buds. “I made steak. You've had 2 steaks now. Why do you need chicken?”

“That second one was for the baby. The chicken is for me.”

“What about the fist one?”

“….We split that.”

“Awfully hungry baby,” he says with a dead tone, straight faced as he eats the one roll left in the basket that hasn’t been devoured by you. 

“Well she’s yours, isn’t she?” 

-

You wipe your face with a napkin, a fried chicken leg and wing now securely packed tight in your tum tum along with the famished baby.

"What's for dessert?" You chime eagerly.

Joel turns to wash the dishes, hiding his smirk. He’s got you now, no surprise cravings will catch him short on this one: He boasts proudly, “I bought you apple pie--"

"I want cupcakes. Whip cream icing. Chocolate.”

His grin quickly deflates into a frown. “No.” He says sternly, a little aggravated. “I bought you pie—“

"Did I say I want pie? L I S T E N,” you snap, slapping your palms together with each syllable. 

He puts his foot down with tense sudsy hands going to his hips. “No. I'm not going out again.”

You raise your eyebrows threateningly. One look.

30 minutes later Joel is shuffling into the house with a pack of 12 cupcakes he bought at the bakery.

-

You’ve managed to prop yourself up on the couch after some heaving. “Ha! The baby is making me workout get strong! Obviously that’s why I’m so hungry.” You shrug it off. “Oh! I want raw cookie dough.”

Joel was on his phone the entire time, but the second you said I want, his brain queued in and he quickly retorts, “No.”

He goes back to replaying the voicemail he missed, settled and focused on the opposite couch.

Of course he Doesn't realize you’ve somehow lumbered up past him and now waddling back with 4 chunks of raw cookies in your hand, popping them in your mouth one at a time.

His eyes dark up to watch you, transfixed on the screen as you bend your knees, hardly paying attention to the way you’re about to fall on the couch. He has half the mind to help, but what’s one lesson you need to learn the hard way?

Regretfully, you bounce down successfully and pull your legs up.

And then, as you dust your hands off from the chocolate stains melted on your palms, Joel’s lips part in a o as you reach behind you and pulling an entire gallon container of animal crackers. 

"Babe"

"Wha?” You don’t turn around to look at him, still shoveling them into your mouth. “Yuu wan wan?"

"You need to stop eating every damn thing in the house.”

You gasp incredulously, your hand over your heart in painful offense. “The baby is very hungry! She's related to you and that belly.”

He only remembers to stop himself from reminding you that your belly is much bigger than his now. 

"The baby—“ (that was the new thing now: the baby  this baby that. The baby is why I need this shirt in blue and green. The baby is why I need the ice cream layered horizontally not stacked vertically. The baby —)

"No. Not the baby,” he snaps. “You."

You start to cry. "I thought I AM your baby!!!" 

He gives you a “seriously” look and you stop the fake tears.

“So how about it?”

“I don’t want you getting salmonella.”

“ugh fine. You can bake them I guess.”

He’s about to protest the idea of any dough going into your body, cooked or raw, but knows its going to be a lost cause.

Joel makes you a platter of Assorted cookies: chocolate chip, fudge, triple chocolate, sugar, and oatmeal raisin.

You clap your hands as he carefully places the little plate atop your bump. Humored by the custom “mini” table you’ve got going on now. Maybe his baby doesn’t like her head being used as a countertop, but with the way you close your eyes and moan after biting into the chocolate chip, babygirl must be pleased too.

He goes to the bathroom quickly and then comes back only to glare down at you. You've taken exactly one bite out of every single cookie, leaving crescent shapes for him to scathe.

Every cookie, except oatmeal raisin. You clearly did take a bite ,but spit it out and put the lump back near the undesirable #1 cookie.

“These mine?” Joel asks bemused.

You nod happily. You felt very proud to have enough control and leave him some this time! 

-

It’s about 9:30 pm. You're acting drunk and woozy even tho you're just a new level of tired and achy

"Woopppoooooo!!! Paaartttaaayyy!" You shout with fists in the air, drinking down a shot glass of sugar water. 

“Alright party Momma. It’s bedtime.” 

"Ppfffttt! No old man! Dont steal my fun.”

Joel stands over the couch, blocking your view from the TV, his hands on his hips. “You're being difficult "

“YoU’rE bEiNg DifFicUlT,” you mock and wave him off. "Oop I need to pee. Help me up.”

Joel” grabs both your grabby hands and hoists you up to your feet. “Now up the stairs, you.”

You waddle towards the stairwell, one hand cupping your lower back. Joel is right at your heel. you up at the treaturous journey ahead, all 8 steps to the top floor. Cracking your neck side to side, you wave your arms over to the handrail and begin: “Left foot. Right foot. Left. Fuck. Fuck stairs. Who invented stairs. Left foot…”

Joel’s so sleepy that he nearly falls forward. And he knows you would not take too kindly to him ramming his face into your ass as you battle your worst enemy.

Finally to the top, you scurry over like a penguin to the bathroom. He fears the long night ahead, with all the sugar swirling in your system undoubtedly going to keep him up.

He rubs his wears eyes. Startled when a moment later you’re right next to him by your side of the bed, patiently waiting for him to help you up.

"Get in the covers,” he hums with exhaustion.

But you don’t move. “No"

"Now.”

"I want an orange.”

"No. You—you just had your snack."

"That was the baby's snack. I want MY snack”.

Dear Christ almighty, bless me with a boy next time so that I have a fighting chance against her and mini her. “If I get you an orange, will you go to bed?" He asks irritably, his voice enunciating each word to ensure the contract that he’s making with you right now is solidified on both ends of the bargain.

You think it over before nodding with a little innocent beam. 

You crawl into the covers just as Joel descends the stairs once again. It takes the entire time for him to grab some oranges, a peeler, and paper towel just for you to rotate your middle and sit your ass in bed.

You sit up against the headboard and clap your hands, so excited when he reappears with the goods. He puts the towel on your mini-table bump and plops one orange atop.

Joel sighs and begins to walk towards his side of the bed, but is haunted when you clear your throat for his attention.

“Yes?”

"Peel it.”

He tries not to visibly roll his eyes before he's opening the round orange with his large fingers and clubbed nails. Everything smells like nectarine now.

Picky as can be, you peel off the extra dried white veiny bits and suck on each pod of the orange.

You expect a sweet simpleness to squirt on your tongue, but instead, a sour, bitter, unripe taste floods your mouth. “Ugh these are gross, now I want—“

Joel closes his wardrobe drawer, his shirt off and only halfway down to his boxers. “NO. NO means fucking NO. I’M TIRED. YOU’RE TIRED. WE'RE GOING TO BED. NOW,” he barks sternly into the mirror. His shoulders huffing from such aggression without being able to look at you.

You throw the covers off, orange skin and slices flying everywhere.

“Fuck you! I want ice cream! I want bananas and steak and potatoes and tacos and—!" 

-

He bares his teeth in a snarl, deep angered eyes casting downward with each poignant rut. “You're so annoying, so goddamn spoiled,” he grunts. His huge hands are wrapped around the top of your head and  cupping your jaw and bulging cheek, keeping you in place as he pushes his length into your mouth over and over again. “You’re gonna do shit when I tell you, the first time I say—shit—fuck there we go—gonna listen—unnggghhfff—listen ta me from now on. Just be my good little silent. Slutty. Pregnant. Wife.”

Your teary eyes are fixed upward at his imposing figure. Feeling each time his tip nudges the back of your throat has you gagging but you can’t pull away to breathe—not that you want to.

“You get—what I give ya—and you be grateful bout it.”

You gargle a moan in agreement. His balls slap against your chin with brutal punches. by this time tomorrow, there will be Joel-finger prints bruising your face and neck.

You love it. You love it when Joel forces you out of the hormonal phase of bossing him around, the endless need to want more and more, no end in sight to your greedy gluttonous desires, until he’s blowing up and blowing off steam using you instead. And it becomes very clear to you how much you just really wanted him this whole time. 

“That’s it—that’s it—you were hungry for my cock weren’t ya? Yeahhhh. Just begging me all night for it. Wanted all that meat for dinner, huh? Couldn’t just come out n’ say it? Your little brain didn’t know what ya truly needed. S’okay, Momma. I’m takin’ care of ya, aren’t I?”

The gluglugglug sounds mixed with strained pitchy whines echo in the master bedroom.

You grip his thighs with your hands to steady yourself, allowing him to abuse your throat. Maybe your knees hurt. Maybe the baby is settling uncomfortably against your lower back, and maybe it’s going to be really difficult to get up from this position in a few minutes. But each thick throb of his length filling your mouth over and over again, the spit slick strings dropping from your lips to your swollen tits, and the dent in your throat from his cock stretching to accomodate his size has your swollen pussy dripping into the carpet for more, more, more. 

It’s been at least a week since Joel drained himself. No wonder he’s been so on edge with each demand. Usually marveling how cute you are, but tonight he was at him limit. You were about to get a hefty, Joel Miller sized load filling your belly, and it’s going to be better than any cookie, steak, or orange in the entire world.

He feels the way your lips suction tighter. Your eyes are leaking tears, and he smirks as he brushes his thumb over to collect it. Briefly bringing it to his tongue and sucking on the salty taste before holding your head in place. 

“Shhh-shhhhhhhh. You gonna take it? Shit—shit—fuck yeah you are. Gonna fuckin take what I give ya, that’s right. My sweet wife. Bossing me around. Shit. Love when ya get like this. Known I’m gonna wreck that ass or that pussy or that mouth—all belongs to me. Fuck—fuck—fuuckk—“

His mouth drops into an o, brows drawn tightly together as slams his pulsing member balls deep into your mouth one final time. You choke, eyes wide as the tip of his cock breaches the deepest part of your throat, your nose suffocated by his pubic hairs and the fat of his lower belly surrounding your cheeks. His balls twitch against your lower lip, and you feel it coming. The travel of his seed from his sack, up his shaft along your tongue—a generous spurt of cum finally shooting from his tip and down your throat. You gag with each fat load that he pumps down your esophagus, too much to swallow at once yet having no other choice but to gulp it down quickly. Your face feels hot. He’s cumming endlessly, your mind blanking and eyes feeling blurry.

“Take it, take it, take it, that’s it,” he hisses through clenched teeth.

You nod just a little, hugging your arms around his thick thighs tighter. He grins, humming “That’s my good fucking wife, and throws his head as the last of his pleasure makes its way safely from his sated balls to your full womb.

Joel pulls you off his length gently. You sputter out cum and saliva onto his feet, sucking in air through your lungs like a newborn. 

Joel gets to one knee, his thumb pressed gently under your chin so you look directly at him. He’s got such softness in his eyes again, the ones that just switch on a dime the second he’s satisfied his aggress out on you. 

You’re completely wrecked: snot spit connecting to your nostrils and swollen lips, cheeks warm and eyes puffy and hazy with exhaustion and tears.

“That—mmffffgg!—was—definitely—my—snack,” you rasp with a hoarse voice. A lazy grin spread across your face only briefly as you continue to suck air.

Joel shakes his head before planting a long kiss atop your forehead. his hands glide along your body, and just in time as your knees give way and you’re falling into him. 

If you had half the mind right now, you’d curse him out for scooping you up and carrying you to bed like his once youthful bride, too concerned with the size and weight of your new body putting unnecessary stress on his aging knees and back. But Joel doesn’t protest once. Just watches you with loving eyes as he settles you into the soft bed. His tongue dips to your chest and breasts, kissing and sucking away any remnants of his rough face fucking. His cum, your spit, and fuvk it, even the little snot specks—all of it he cleans up before coming up to your lips. He kisses you softly with gentle pecks, enough to ensure you can still catch your breath. He sucks your lower lip into your mouth before wiping his own with his thumb. You’re calmer now, sated and drifting so close to sleep.

Joel clambers into bed next to you, wrapping his arm under your head and swaddling you close. You instinctively roll into his embrace. Kissing his peck and rubbing your face against him dreamily with soft breaths. “Tha hit ther spert juss rite. Ur da bess, Jol.”

“I know. So are you.” He waits for a reply, but nothing comes from you. “Are you goin’ into a food coma, baby?”

Your gentle snores answer him, along with the drool now pooling on his peck.

He chuckles and pulls your head into his face, inhaling your scent. Strong, secure, graceful hands caress your big belly. Your very very full belly, the one that he’s not going to envy when it gives you a the tummy ache tomorrow from stuffing it with so much junk food tonight. 

- - - -

Taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop

[bambisnc]

late night conversations [ft. j.wy]

-> pt2 of this [recap] -> you’re just about to point out that you are, in fact, just a fake girlfriend but before you can wonyoung interrupts you, tilting your face towards her in a way that leaves your lips inches away from hers (and leaves you completely breathless), her tone dripping with urgency, “he’s looking. kiss me now.”

pairing : wony x reader genre : fluffyy/crack/angstish + fake dating trope! cw/tw : kissing + super lowk suggestive + u dont have to read pt1 but u'd get a lil bg so + uneditted oohf ;-; wc : 2! pages! in google docs yayay

“well aren’t you just the best kisser ever~” 

“jang wonyoung do you want me to cry.”

your fake girlfriend’s arm drapes itself over your shoulder, “but yn.. i’m the one who’s sad.. you know, i’d asked my girlfriend to kiss me, but she ended up biting my lip. i think i even saw a little blood…” you try to push her figure off of you, only for her to loop another under your knees and position you to sit on her lap with astonishing ease.

“or should i take it to mean that you were just that excited to kiss me, hmm~?” she’s teasing you, trying to rile you up – you know that. 

but since when did fake dating involve.. this much intimacy? wonyoung is still whining about how much your action pained her, you panicked okay?!, but the casual way she rests her hand on your hip and her face nuzzles into your neck, placing kisses which seem to be dangerously lowering with every successive brush of her lips on your skin.., just seems a bit too real to be considered a show.

when you’d asked her, wonyoung had an answer ready at the tip of her tongue, “we need to practice; yn c’mon you seriously don’t expect people to believe us if you keep acting all stiff. we need practice.” and voila, she’d invited herself into your house.

you ignored the dull glint of .. something you couldn’t really understand in her usually bright eyes. you ignored how her rigid expression felt like a knife to your heart.

“hey.,” 2 hands press against your face, forcing your lips into a little pout, “pay attention to me.” you think she’s still being playful, but her expression is the most serious you’ve ever seen it.. 

and then, a featherlight touch of her lips on yours.

it leaves you a little dizzy, to be honest. you’ve kissed before, and this was barely even considerable comparing your past ‘practice’ sessions with wonyoung.. so maybe it’s something about this moment in particular. 

you’d long accepted that she’d only remain a hallway crush, an alluring daydream. because you knew there was no way you could get over her unless.. unless maybe if you got the closure you needed. that you and her could never happen. which was why you’d accepted her plea to be her fake girlfriend. 

you’d hope the way she was basically using you would be enough to knock some sense back into your love lost brain. but it didn’t. you realized if it was wonyoung, you’d be okay with her doing whatever, however, whenever she wanted.

and maybe.. maybe your feelings weren’t completely hopeless. maybe you had a chance.

“wah yn- c’mon do you want me to beg?” wonyoung asks, her arms now moving to pull you closer to her, embracing you ever so tenderly, “i’ll do it if you want, you know? pleasee~ tell me why you were late to the party? you said something about an issue?”

you sigh, “it’s..complicated. a really long story. and it’s 2 am..”

“so? we have all the time in the world.” 

it’s really hard to argue with her in your current position, especially when her fingers are tracing soothing, mindless patterns on your back.

wonyoung decides you need further convincing, mumbling a “i want you to speak your mind around me yn.. let that mask of yours drop now.. please?” to do so.

gods, at this point you’d even tell her all your banking information if she wanted you to.

notes : honorary dedication to yuyu again n @elliesrosetoy ! (ily btoh) !! &lt;3 + [m.list] (lowkey thinking of a pt3,, lmk tho!)

update -> [pt.3] !! [series m.list]

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 NAP TIME WITH NIKOLAI!

FEATURING: nikolai gogol

SUMMARY: nap time with nikolai is always eventful one way or another—you've gotten used to it. you think. (wordcount: 900ish; sfw; fem!reader)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: 1) is anyone having issues editing drafts on mobile?? it's not letting me. 2) does anyone know how to fix the dividers not letting posts show up in the tags glitch D: i am suffering

“nikolai.”

“yes, my dove?”

“what are you doing?”

you sigh softly as you card your fingers through his soft hair, absently feeling the man trace patterns on your skin with the tip of a knife. you don’t know where he got it—he isn’t wearing his overcoat so it’s not like he could have grabbed it from where it was stashed in his pocket dimension. 

he’s not nearly tracing hard enough to break your skin—if anything, it feels like a faint tickle—but it had woken you up from where you were dozing off, so you’re a bit annoyed. 

“… nothing,” nikolai replies, voice hesitant and laced with such a suspicious tone that it has you cracking your eyes open to give him an equally suspicious look. 

nikolai looks deceptively innocent as he tilts his head up to look up at you, eyes wide and expression soft. the knife is nowhere to be seen, he must have stuffed it up his sleeve. your eyes narrow, nikolai pouts at the expression.

“nikolai, if you cut me with that knife, i’ll chop off your hair,” you threaten watching a horrified expression cross his face before letting your head fall back against the pillow, intent on trying to get a nap in before fyodor barges in and demands for the two of you to get back to work.

nikolai is silent for a moment, but too soon he says: “no you won’t,” and then cackles and adds, “you looooooove my hair.” 

you peek your eyes back open, a bit more irate now when you catch the wide grin on nikolai’s face, eyes dancing as he looks up at you. “do you know what i love more than your hair?” you ask as you brush your fingers through his long, white locks. when he waits for you to answer your own question, you tell him, “not having my sleep interrupted.”

you tug his hair hard, painfully, and you roll your eyes when nikolai only lets out a moan, eyes fluttering shut.

“you’re disgusting,” you say, albeit fondly, as you release his hair and go back to stroking it softly. “put the knife away and rest.”

you hear a clanging sound as nikolai carelessly tosses the knife off the bed and against the wall. instead of laying his head back on your chest like he usually does when you want to nap but he’s not tired, he scooches up the bed to rest his head on the pillow next to you. you smile when you feel him hook an arm around your waist, tugging you back toward him so your body is flush to his. 

“thought you weren’t tired,” you murmur softly, eyes sliding shut as you melt into him.  it’s not often that you get to lay up with nikolai like this, he’s rarely tired enough to actually nap with you—he usually just lays on you until you fall asleep and then disappears to find someone to harass. 

“hmmm, i changed my mind, little koshenya!” he says, although you can’t help but notice that he doesn’t sound all too tired, a playful lilt to his voice as he nuzzles his face in your hair. 

“oh yeah?” you ask, amused, yawning as your eyes begin to drift shut again. the weight of his arm draped around you is familiar and comforting and you can feel his breath warm against the shell of your ear.

“mhmm!” nikolai agrees, still sounding a bit too energetic for you to actually believe he’s tired—you figure he has ulterior motives but you don’t know what they are, and that slightly terrifies you.

it doesn’t terrify you enough to rouse you, though, because you can hardly hold your eyes open as you bring your hand to where nikolai’s is resting on your waist, intertwining your fingers with his. 

he hums softly, his chest rumbling gently against your back—an old lullaby that you recall him mentioning as one of the few things he remembers from his mother during his childhood. his thumb rubs soft circles on your waist while he nudges his nose against your head, occasionally pressing kisses to your hair between the lullaby’s verses. 

and you bask, because nikolai is rarely as docile as he is in this moment and you want to savor it. a part of you wants to try to stay awake, but it’s hard with the warmth of his body spreading through you and the low, smooth hums of nikolai’s voice in your ear, chest reverberating against you. 

“sleep, my dove,” nikolai coos between his hums. “i have a surprise for you tomorrow.”

and that more than slightly terrifies you because surprises from nikolai rarely end well, but by the time the words finally process, he’s already back to humming and lulling you to sleep—purposely, you now realize sleepily. 

“better be a good one, kolya,” you sigh to yourself, not even sure if the words are intelligible, but if the way nikolai’s hums briefly are interrupted by a sharp, jarring giggle have anything to say about it, they are. 

“of course, it will be,” he promises cryptically. “now sleep, little koshenya.”

[rafescvntyclubgf]

𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 - 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 (𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑 𝐨𝐟 𝟔)

+18 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻 𝓓𝓝𝓘

𝙾𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝙼𝚘𝚋𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚛!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙵𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

📖 𝙻𝚘𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚌 𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚘 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚋𝚢 𝚂𝚊𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚊 𝙲𝚊𝚛𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛 💕

Warnings contain spoilers: blood, domestic assault, cheating, swearing, name-calling, gaslighting, threats, and mentions of killing partner, kissing, general violence, gun violence, heavy petting, mild smut warning

Sexual content in pink if you want to avoid that

Reader’s POV:

“Fuck, I missed my girl,” Tony groans as he nuzzles into your neck, his stout cologne doing nothing but turning your stomach. “You gonna wait up for me tonight, babydoll? I promise I won’t be gone too long this time—just a quick meeting.” His fingers scrap along your jaw, capturing your chin between his pointer finger and thumb. You wince in shame and disgust. I wonder what he’s thinking. Does he even see what he did to me? It doesn’t matter.

“Of course, I’ll wait for you.”

”Oh, and wear that little set you were wearin’ the night before I left. I’ve been thinking about it since.”

You purse your lips, forcing them into a tight smile. “Of course, Tony,” you subsist, your voice cracking slightly, making him shift his stance, looking down at you concerned.

”You alright, honey?” He questions as he moves even closer.

“Mhmm… You press the utterance past your lips. “You just got here. I don’t want you to leave,” you lie.

He looks back at you lovingly, matching your pout, rubbing his rough thumb along your bottom lip. “I never wanna leave you, princess.”

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦

You wait by the phone nervously, standing by for a call from Rafe. Nothing yet. An hour passed when he said they would meet. Maybe they’re just gonna talk. Maybe Rafe has enough muscle to scare Tony.

No. There’s no way they’re both coming out alive…

Your eyes fill with tears, thinking about Rafe alone in this. Maybe he brought someone with him, his goons, just like Tony would surely do. Barry? He hasn’t mentioned anyone else in his corner.

BEEP.

Your phone lights up, making your stomach fall. You look down at the screen. Unknown. A burner phone… Either Tony or Rafe. Light floods your bay window, filling with light the dark kitchen. Is the deal done? What if Tony took care of Rafe and stole his phone, following the chain of messages between him and me, putting together all the pieces?

You skitter into the kitchen, catching a large knife out of the butcher block, holding it at your side for protection. Snagging your phone off the counter, you creep toward the window, peering outside, but it’s far too dark to see.

CLICK.

You lift the phone to your ear, listening to your uneven breathing in the playback as you linger for the caller on the other line to say something.

“C’mon, princess. Let’s get outta here.”

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦

“I don’t know, Rafe,” you whisper shakily, your delicate voice vying with the music pouring out of The Country Club. Rafe reaches behind his back, it adjusting himself; the tilt of his large body just slightly in front of yours, giving you a glance of his GLOCK 19.

”Rafe-“

”Don’t worry,” he stops you, looking into your eyes with a requisition to remain calm. “You know I’ll take care of you. Yeah?”

”Yeah,” you answer as the two of you slip into the entryway. Rafe’s large hand clutches yours tighter as you move quickly through the thick crowd to the back. He lowers his head, and you follow suit, catching the door as a stripper struts onto the main floor just as you did before.

The noise around you plunges to a muffled roar, leaving the two of you alone in the dark hallway. Sweat gathers on your palms; heart, racing. Your knees wobble, ankles weak in your heels as the two of you step closer toward the door. Rafe reaches for it, and you go for him, wrapping your hand around his bicep. His eyes fall to yours, softening as he sees the apprehension in your eyes.

“Please, baby. Just - Just please let’s go,” you plead. He tightens his strong jaw, shaking his head ‘no.’ “Please…” You whimper weakly. Rafe wraps his arm around you, pulling you away from the door, caging you against the wall, looking out before turning his attention to you.

“If I don’t come out, you gotta leave.”

“Leave? Why? I don’t want to leave you,” you panic.

”And have you struck in the crossfire? I don’t think so. You’re only here ‘cause I need you close. I need to be able to grab you after I handle shit so we can hide out together. I don’t trust anyone to keep you safe but me.” You nod up at him, waiting for further direction. “Need you to go somewhere safe; somewhere close-”

”The champagne room-” You interject.

”Yeah - Yeah. That’s perfect, baby,” he breathes as he brushes your cheek with his thumb, demanding your eye contact, knowing his presence is the only thing keeping you from a full-on panic attack. “I told you I’d take care of you. I meant that. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a set of keys. Rafe grabs your palm, resting them on your trembling hand. “I bought you a Penthouse in Charleston, and a car to take you wherever you want to go.”

You look down at the triple set, a gold house key, a Mercedes fob, and a third silver key with a palm tree etched in the metal. “That G-Wagon we took here is all yours, princess. If you open the mirror, you’ll find the address of your new place and a credit card. There’s a burner phone in the center council. Those contacts will make sure you’re taken care of and protected. And, if for some reason you’re not, and if anything happens—I’m talkin’ anything, and you feel unsafe, this key is for my hideaway in Nassau. Text my sister Wheezie, she’ll tell you where I hid the address. Okay?”

“You - You… Shit. You didn’t have to do that… Why did you do that for me, Rafe?” You panic. “That’s too much. That’s-”

“Stop, baby,” he soothes as he brushes your tears off your cheeks with his rough thumbs. “I needed to do this. I need you. Alright? You can thank me later. I’m fuckin’ counting on it,” he chuckles weakly. “I’ve been thinkin’ about that since our phone call-”

“Please just think this through,” you whimper. “We can start over anywhere. Just me and you. We can go to your hideaway tonight.”

”It’s not gonna be me and you if he’s around, baby.” The muscles in his jaw tighten, tears glistening on his waterline that hadn’t been there a moment before as he leans in closer, letting his cheek rest against yours. Rafe’s lips brush against your warm skin, making you melt into him. “Men like me take what we want, and we don’t take ’no’ for an answer. He’s not gonna stop ‘til I make him. No one fucks with my girl.”

He pulls away slightly, searching for your eyes. You look up at him, hating yourself for not fighting harder, but there’s nothing you can say to stop him. The only thing you’re doing is getting in his head, adding further emotion to an already emotional situation. If he is going to come out alive, he needs to focus. You look up at him and nod. “It’s just a conversation,” you whisper.

“Only a conversation,” he breathes as he reaches behind his back, double-checking his piece. You grab him by his shirt, pressing a hard kiss on his lips like it might be your last time. Rafe separates slightly, ghosting his lips over yours before kissing you again, taking control of the situation—the perfect kiss, exactly what you needed; deep and passionate yet gentle enough to feel more.

His lips pull away from yours, leaving you chasing him. “Pretty girl…” He mumbles, with a gentle grit in his voice. “This isn’t my first time. Aight? I know how to handle business, I know how to use my gun, m’not afraid to get shit done,” he assures, resting his forehead against yours.

“Red wine,” you whisper, fighting off tears as you rest your hands on his toned chest.

“What now?” He chuckles before kissing your forehead.

“That’s what I want. I wanna share a bottle of red wine with you tonight-”

“On our date?” He asks happily.

“On our date.

“She’s confident now. Huh? I needed that, princess. I’ll buy you a bottle of whatever you’d like, and we can share some dessert. Yeah?” He asks as he cups your cheeks in his large hands, kissing your nose, then your lips. “I love dessert.”

You giggle weakly, right on the verge of tears. “You can have whatever you’d like after this, baby.”

”Whatever I’d like?” He breathes between kisses. “You know what I’d love. Don’t you?”

“I do. I’d love that too.

“My girl,” he smiles. “Now let me handle business. Aight? I’ll be right out.”

“Okay.” You quickly catch a tear on your finger, brushing it away on your dress. Rafe turns toward the door, taking a deep breath. He lifts his fist, banging on the large wooden entry.

“Come in.”

”Stop,” you gasp, pressing your hand against the door. Rafe looks down at you frustrated; your talk apparently not enough to let him do what he needs to do without more pushback. “Just stop for a moment.” You whisper. “That’s not Tony.” Rafe’s eyes narrow, shifting from you toward the door and back to you, watching you as you lean in, pressing your ear against it. You shut your eyes, doing your best to focus on the conversation behind it.

“What are they saying?” Rafe whispers.

You lift. your finger to your lips, quieting him. “Shh, baby… Just-”

”Who the fuck else would it be?” A man grunts.

”Why the hell isn’t he comin’ in then? It’s gotta be one of Tony’s sluts,” a second adds. It’s always ‘yes sir,’ or ‘no sir,’ whenever Tony’s in the room. None of these men would ever have the balls to call Tony his first name to his face.

”Then open the goddamn door and find out what they want.”

”Nobody’s been back here all night. It’s him. We got specific orders. Kill him, take her home. We fuck this up, we’re gone.”

“Next knock, we handle it.”

”Can you hear what they’re sayin’,” Rafe asks, the pull of his voice making it impossible for you to compartmentalize him and the other conversation together in your fear-muddled mind. You bury your face in your trembling hands, finding yourself in a seemingly hopeless situation, trying to remain strong.

“Rafe - I… He’s not in there,” you whimper. “It’s a setup. Kill you. Take me.” The gravity of the situation has the opposite effect on Rafe. Those exact words sending him into a fit of rage instead of a fit of terror.

“So, he’s a woman beater and a pussy. Huh?” He chuckles darkly, pulling his gun out from behind his back. “Fuck, I’m gonna love killin’ him.” You look at Rafe, hearing those words fall so easily from his mouth. There’s no question that it’s not just lip service. He can’t wait. He’s looking forward to it. “Can you pretend to be a dancer? Just call for Tony? Throw him off?” You nod obediently. “You ready?” Rafe asks. You step toward the door and look up at him, tears wetting your cheeks. “I need you to take a deep breath for me, princess. It’s all going to be okay. Five minutes tops. Give it five minutes. If I don’t make it out. Leave. Please. Don’t look for me. If I’m alright, I’ll find you. And if not… just know that I love you.”

You stare back at him in disbelief. It’s hard to wrap your head around an instant connection with someone and even more challenging to convince yourself that love at first sight exists, but there’s no denying you feel it, too. “I love you, Rafe.”

“That’s all I need to know,” he whispers. He wraps his body in yours, burying himself in your neck and breathing deeply. Rafe kisses your neck, cheeks, forehead, and lips, lingering momentarily. You feel his lips tremble against you, his shaky breathing letting you know that he may not be as confident as the face he’s putting on for you, but the last thing he needs is more doubt.

“I’ll be waiting for you in the champagne room on the main floor, back-right, red curtain.”

“Five minutes,” he adds sternly. You separate slightly, walking toward the office door; rapping on it several times. “Tony, it’s Serena. I have a cash drop,” you call, holding onto Rafe’s hand for dear life. He kisses your head before nodding toward the main floor.

You run away, just as he asked, listening as the office door opens. Light floods the hallways, illuminating Rafe as you watch him draw his gun. He aims, quickly firing three shots inside, making you cover your mouth, muffling your scream as he rushes inside.

You sprint toward the door, throwing it open; clipping toward the champagne room fast. You look both ways, turning the plaque from empty, to occupied. It’s an out-of-body experience as you peer out the crack in the curtain into the club, everything visibly unchanged as the bass continues to thump, strippers climbing and sliding down the poles as if you’re not cowering in the corner, and there’s not a gunfight going just down the hall.

Your thoughts start to consume you, the idea that that could have been the last conversation the two of you would have ever shared, the depth of his love even after such a short time, his deep-seated need to keep you safe, the idea of not getting to share a life with him after.

You slide your fingers along your swollen cheeks, sniffling and wiping your tears. “C’mon, Rafe,” you blubber as you look down at your watch, seven minutes since he went in—two minutes longer than you vowed to stay. You feel torn; listen to him and leave or stay and wait. If he doesn’t make it out, I don’t want to either…

Your stomach flips; heart skipping as the curtain is pulled back. Rafe. You stand up from the booth, running into his arms before he can even set down his gun. Your hands wrap around the back of his neck, dragging him toward your lips, needing him close. He rests his firearm on the table, giving you his full attention as his large hands paw at your body. Your kiss is desperate, rushed, and hungry. Your tongues reeling, teeth clashing, tugging hair; your hands everywhere. You pull away, panting for air, taking the deepest breath you have all night. “I was so worried. I-”

“Baby, I’m alright. I’m okay,” he comforts as your kisses soften, the two of you falling on a smoother tempo.

“What happened?” You whisper, lips flowing close.

“You were right… He wasn’t there.”

“Did you-“

“Kill anybody?” He asks, voice hoarse with adrenaline. “Yeah, baby. I killed ‘em all.”

“Shit,” you stammer, looking over his shoulder into the club, the guests and girls none the wiser. No heavy hitters in Tony’s crew were taken out. No one who truly mattered to his operation, just warm bodies set out to handle the boss’s dirty work - goons that got taken out in the crossfire.

It was them or us.

I still have him.

“Sit,” you whisper

Rafe smiles along your lips, lifting you into his strong arms. “Yes, ma’am…”

You reach for the top button of his shirt, pinching it between your fingers, tugging it open, working to the next as your eyes lift to his. Rafe sits down, setting you on top of him. You sink the rest of the way down, straddling his lap, grinding with the tempo of your kiss and the beat.

“I want you so fucking bad, sweetheart,” he mumbles between kisses. You can feel his want pressed against your delicate lace panties, your dress hiked up around your hips, pussy pulsing at the sound of his voice and the weight of his words.

"I need you, Rafe,” you groan. He chuckles lustily against your lips, groping your ass with his large hands.

"Oh, Yeah? Fuck, princess,” he hums as his eyes follow your hands, working lower and lower, exposing more and more skin as you pull open each button. Your lips press against the column of his neck kissing and sucking his hot skin. “Thankin’ me already, baby?”

You look at his opened button-down, dirtied with small splatters of blood. Rafe lip his bottom busted lip; in the heat of the moment, unnoticed ‘til now. His hair is a mess, hanging loose in front of his darkened eyes. He brushes his bangs off his face, smiling at you that has you physically aching for him. “There’s not enough time in the night to thank you…”

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦

𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

[ihaveabuckyproblem]

He Had It Comin’ | D.D.

Summary: Daryl once told the group that Merle wasn’t a r@pist, but no one could deny the way Merle looked at you.

-

Warnings: fem reader, sexual harassment, attempted r@pe, protective!Daryl, villain!Merle, set in Alexandria, (we’re just gonna act like Merle never died), death threats, triggering threats, crying, guns, pinning, etc.

-

You were groggy, things all confusing and hazy in your awakening state. The sunlight barely creeped through the curtains as they failed to cover all of the window, allowing the golden rays to shine into your face. The urge the open your eyes got the best of you, so you did, and immediately groaned when you were blinded by the sunlight.

After a couple more seconds, you were coherent. You didn’t have to turn to see that Daryl was sleeping peacefully beside you. He had one arm propped under his head, a force of habit he never was able to break away from. His other arm was holding onto you, feeling as though someone was about to pull you away from him at any given moment and he’d never see you again. It always amazed you how strong he was, even while he slept.

Moments like these brought a small smile to your lips as you wished you could stay here in this moment forever. Nothing brought you more peace, you were the safest you’ve been since the world fell and the dead rose.

You could feel Daryl’s steadily paced breaths warming your neck, his face nuzzled into it. You knew you’d have to get up soon, but everything in you was telling you not too. To stay here, wearing nothing but Daryl’s t-shirt and a pair of underwear, while your lover slept next to you as if there wasn’t a world outside of your shared room.

Suddenly, your peaceful thoughts and blissful mood were interrupted as your bedroom door is quite literally slammed open. You felt Daryl’s body tense immediately as you both shut up, Daryl’s hand already reaching for the knife under his pillow.

“Rise and shine!” As if seeing Merle standing there wasn’t enough, his voice rang loudly throughout the once quiet room. Immediately, Daryl relaxed, but rolled his eyes.

“Get outta here, man.” Daryl raised his voice at his older brother, throwing his hands up.

You hadn’t taken your eyes off the older Dixon. And he sure as hell hadn’t taken his eyes off you either, the way your bare legs looked exposed like that mind his eyes have no shame. You shuddered in disgust, immediately throwing the blanket over your body.

Daryl caught onto his brother’s creeping eyes and stood up out of bed, stomping over to Merle.

“Stop bargin’ in ‘ere, asshole. Yer creepin’ her out.” He growled at him, spitting his words out like venom. Merle smirked, finally tearing his gaze off you and looked at his little brother.

“I can’t help but look when my sweet baby brother got himself a nice piece of ass hanging around.” Merle spoke without shame. This made Daryl’s blood boil, he pushed Merle back and out of the room before slamming the door back shut. All you could hear was Merle’s descending laughter as he walked away.

You wanted to be shocked, like you didn’t expect it. Like this wasn’t normal. But, truth be told, Merle’s behavior towards you has always been that way. No matter how many times Daryl threatened to smash his skull in or take off his other hand, Merle said and did as he pleased when he pleased.

“‘M sorry bout him, he’s an ass.” Daryl muttered the last part to himself as he walked towards his dresser, intent on getting ready for the day.

“I think it was a mistake to let him move into the basement.” You muttered, letting your dislike for Merle seep into your tone.

Daryl didn’t say anything because he knew you were right. He hates the way Merle speaks to you, it isn’t okay and it makes you uncomfortable, and that’s enough for him to want to send Merle to an early grave. But, Merle was blood, the last family Daryl had.

“I’ll talk to ‘em.” Daryl reassures, sending you a “I promise” look.

~

Hours had passed and you hadn’t seen Daryl since this morning. After getting dressed and ready for the day, you parted and went your separate ways. Daryl had been positioned with Rick today on supply runs while you were on training with the kids.

The day was going great, the kids were going through their training wonderfully. Even Adam, the little boy who is scared of his own shadow, did wonderful knife work. It made you proud seeing how far they’ve come.

All that pride washed out of your system when you felt another presence. You didn’t move, standing there with your hands on your hips, observing the children. You felt uneasy, as if prying eyes were on you. And they were.

Merle had been passing by the training grounds when he spotted you. You have no idea how long he’d been there, just watching, eyes glued to your ass. He sexualized you worse than any man ever had and it was disgusting. You were a big girl and you knew how to fend for yourself, but having to fight against the living is the scariest thing you ever had to do.

As long as Merle kept his distance, you didn’t care. You knew how jealous he was that Daryl had you and he didn’t, but that wasn’t your problem. He needed to learn respect.

All of a sudden, you felt a quick pressure on your backside, causing you to stumble forward.

Did someone just smack my ass?

You whipped around faster than you could imagine only to be met with the serious yet mischievous stare of Merle. He had that uneasy smirk plastered on his face that sent chills down our spine.

Oh, your blood was boiling. The nerve he had to put his hands on you, his brother’s woman. You could hear the kids still continuing on with their training, oblivious to the creep in the area, but all you could see was red.

“Now, that’s a nice piece of-“ before you could let him finish his sentence, you reared back your first in seconds, giving it all your force as you felt your knuckles come in contact with his cheekbone.

Merle was on the ground in seconds, looking at you with pure shock. You didn’t hear the children practicing anymore, so you knew you had eyes on you. Your senses came back to you and that’s when you looked down at your red knuckles, instantly getting hit with the sharp pains throbbing in your hand. You gripped your wrist and hissed.

“You bitch!” Merle hollered, making your head snap up.

“Watch your tone or I’ll rock your shit again,” you snapped at him, coming down from your adrenaline high, “Get out of here. They’re just kids, they don’t need to see anything else.”

You didn’t give him the time of day to respond before you turned your back on him and walked away. He gathered himself and left, but not without griping and complaining, muttering a bunch of curses and threats under his breath.

An hour later and you couldn’t bear the pain in your hand, your fear is that it was broken. You made up some lame excuse and told the kids that training was done for the day. You made sure they all put their knives back into their holsters and told them all what a good job they did. After the last child made their way home, you realized the sun was on its way to setting. Letting out a sign, you gently grabbing your wrist, keeping your hand steady as you walked to Carol’s home.

-

“This looks bad, Y/N.” Carol said softly, having a delicate hold on your injured hand. You winced, trying to bite your tongue from the pain.

“You should see the other guy.” You joked, only, it didn’t come off as humorous as you hoped. Carol was quick to look at you, concerned, before reaching for her medical kit.

“This is from a fight?” She asked.

You scoffed at how funny that sounded to you. It was better than your joke.

“It was less of a fight and more of a promise.” You spoke truthfully. Not keeping the truth any longer, you informed Carol of what happened. She was upset for you, to say the least. Carol was your best friend outside from Daryl, so she already knew of your worries when it came to Merle. She didn’t like him either but she was always worrying about you living in the same house as him.

“Are you gonna tell Daryl?” She asked, putting the last piece of gauze tape on your wrapped hand.

Daryl.

You forgot about the fact that you would have to tell Daryl. He would question your hand… and you never lie to each other. It was an unspoken rule and brutal honesty was a big factor in your relationship.

You bit your lip nervously, how do you tell your boyfriend that his brother smacked your ass? Your thoughts became overwhelming, Daryl loves his brother. But he also loves you. What if he thinks you’re making him chose?

You mentally laughed to yourself at how ridiculous that sounds. After Carol finished your hand, you looked out the window, seeing nothing but the deep setting sun. All the light was almost drained from the sky, you could tell the moon was about to make its appearance.

Thanking Carol, you bid your goodbyes, knowing Daryl was probably home. After leaving Carol’s house, you tried not to think about the situation. It wasn’t worth the stress… Merle wasn’t worth the stress.

It wasn’t long before you reached you and Daryl’s home. The lights were off, meaning no one else was home. You sighed, dragging your feet up the stairs. He must be somewhere with Rick unpacking whatever supplies they brought back. You smiled to yourself thinking about the man you love.

You made your way into the house, kicking off your boots at the door. It was dark in the house, but there was enough moonlight coming in through the windows that you could make your way around. Your body felt so tired and your hand was starting to throb again. Why did you have to strike him with your most useful hand?

You shook it off and deposited your holster belt on the kitchen counter. The weight off your hips was relieving. You arched your back, giving it a good stretch.

Then, you felt something cold pressed against your head. Your body tenses almost instantly, your heart rate speeding up in seconds. You knew what that was. Anyone in Alexandria would recognize the feeling of a gun pressed to the back of their head.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Merle mocked, his voice flooding your ears.

For fucks sake.

“Bet that hand feels just about as good as my face, doesn’t it, honey?” He chuckled, taking a step closer. You closed your eyes and took and big breath in and out- you couldn’t show him your fear.

“What do you want, Merle?” You seethed. You were eyeing your holster belt that was only a couple feet away that held your knife.

“You know what I want baby.” His voice was low and hungry, now pressing himself against your back. As if you weren’t tense before, you were stiff as a door now. He moved the gun to press to the side of your head, grabbing your hip hard. Your winced in pain at the feeling of his fingers digging into your hip, but he had other plans than just that. He grabbed you by the back of your neck and slammed your body down onto the counter, making you bend over it as sharp groan leaving your lips.

This was happening. This was really happening. The sudden realization of the situation you were in made a wave of fear come crashing over you. All the jokes, the comments, the stares… This is what he was thinking about? Forcing himself on you over the counter?

No. This can’t happen, you weren’t gonna let this happen. Merle was ripping off your shirt when you came to your senses. This was enough for you to throw your head backwards and into his mouth, making him holler in pain. To your surprise, he even dropped the gun.

You stood up and wasted no time, you didn’t even look at him, you just bolted. You ran towards the door, but couldn’t even twist the handle before you were ripped away from it. You screamed in protest, but your vocal cords gave out when you felt a hard hit to your head.

You were pulled to your feet by your hair before being punched in the face again, immediately falling back down to the floor. You cried out in pain, kicking and screaming, refusing to go down without a fight.

“Go to hell!” You scream, spitting a large wad of saliva into Merle’s eyes. He jerked back and let you go, dropping you so he could wipe his eyes. You scrambled to your feet, but tripped over his large boot that he stuck out in front of you. Your body hit the floor hard and you landed on your already injured hand, causing a scream to ripple through your throat. You were silenced by a kick to the stomach, your eyes widening as the wind was knocked out of you, sending you into a coughing fit.

Having had enough of your resisting, Merle knelt down between your legs, flipping you on your back as he pulls you closer by your legs. You cry and try to fight back, but the harsh blows you endured did a number on your body.

Merle had his hands on the zipper of your jeans when the front door opened and shut. Both of your heads snapped to the doorway the same time Daryl looked up to see what was taking place.

Your face was bloody, your lip busted and your forehead gashed. You looked like you had been crying as you wheezed, still fighting for air. Your shirt was nowhere to be seen and your stomach was red, looking abused. You didn’t say anything, you couldn’t say anything, your eyes said enough as they pleaded for help.

When Daryl finally laid his eyes upon his big brother, he was blinded with rage. All the color drained from his surroundings as all he saw was red. Merle didn’t look sorry, or guilty, or ashamed of what he was attempting to do- only disappointed that he didn’t finish the job.

Daryl didn’t utter a word as he took 3 big strides and rocked his fist into Merle’s jaw. There was so much force behind the punch that it made your body jerk.

Merle was pleading with his little brother, but Daryl didn’t care. No one lays a hand on his woman, no one lays their hand on you, and lives to see the next day.

Even through the tears in your eyes, you could see the blood bath Daryl was making of Merle’s face. With every colliding notion of Daryl’s fist to his brother’s face, Daryl would grunt, but never uttered a word. He never threatened Merle, never asked why, he simply wanted him dead.

And Daryl did just that. Daryl beat Merle until Merle stopped pleading, moving, and breathing. You looked on as Daryl stood over his dead brother’s body.

At the realization that Merle was dead, you finally broke. Your body shook in sobs and you covered your chest with your arms, holding yourself as you cried. The love of your life just killed his brother- and you felt guilty.

“Shit, Y/N-“ Daryl bolted over to you, kneeling down to your level. He pulled your body into his lap, holding you close.

“I’m sorry- I’m so sorry Daryl.” You choked out, avoiding the lifeless body on the floor just a few feet away.

“Yer sorry?” Daryl questioned, “Y/N, he was hurtin’ ya.”

“He was your brother-“

“I don’t give a damn.” Daryl said sternly. You grew quiet at his words. Daryl gently cupped your face in his hands, making you look him in the eye.

“Yer the only one I care ‘bout. He had it comin’.”

Daryl reassuring words left your mind at ease, but, you were still shaken up. You and Daryl sat there for god only knows how long as you held onto him and cried. He whispered sweet nothings into your ear and held you tight. He promised himself to never let you go.

~

[escapingrealtiylovinginsanity]

Nick Amaro: Drunk

This has been sitting in my drafts for months. So, I decided to finish it up. This was an idea that I was really excited about that I had a really hard time writing and just kind of lost it. Hope you enjoy it anyhow xoxo 

You hear a brief knock on your door before it's thrown open. You hear a scuff of feet and enough of a ruckus for you to check to see what is going on. Finn had Nick halfway through the doorway when you turned the corner to the door. A simple once over told you that your boyfriend was very drunk. More than you have ever seen him. You knew that he had been having a bad week. He had been working on a particularly bad case. “Cariño, luz de mi vida (Sweetheart, light of my life).” Nick’s Spanish was slurred but he sounded upbeat and happy.  

“Hey amor,” You greet Nick before smiling at Finn. You thank him for bringing Nick home and wave him way when he offers to help get him to bed. You can tell that Nick isn’t planning on sleeping anytime soon. You can almost feel his energy humming through his veins. You're glad that Zara was already asleep for the night.

“Have you eaten?” He smiles guiltily. You shake your head but don’t comment on his normal meal-skipping behavior. You peck a kiss on his cheek. “I’ll make you a sandwich, maybe it will soak up some of that alcohol.” He mentioned something about the bathroom as he staggers that way. You head to the kitchen and start pulling out the bread.  

You had barely laid out all the ingredients when Nick’s arms wrapped around you. He nuzzled his face into your neck, the beginning growth of a beard scrapping at your sensitive skin. You laughed as he stumbled forward into you making you throw the butter knife you had been using to spread mayo on the bread. “Baby, do you want to sit down? I’ll bring this to you in a minute.” 

“No te dejaré hermosa (No I won’t leave you beautiful). Nothing could take me away from you.” You smile looking over your shoulder at him. He was leaving sloppy kisses on your neck and jaw. He murmured drunk nonsense into your skin rocking back and forth on his feet. You caress his forearms, as his hands make circles on your hips. You hum back to his Spanish gibberish to let him know you are listening.  

When you finish you stumble with him over to the couch. You gently push on his chest for him to sit down. You handed him the sandwich and he took no time taking a huge bite. You go to the kitchen to grab Nick a glass of ice water and snag a bag of chips on the way back. Nick was back on his feet and when he sees you walk back into the room, he lights up like he hadn’t seen you in weeks. “Siéntate, (sit down)” 

Nick is surprisingly agreeable in his drunk state and does as you ask without question. You push the water into his hand and he dutifully drinks, downing half of it in one pull. You set the chips on the coffee table, but his hands reach for your hips instead. His arms go around you again and he presses his face into your stomach. You smile to yourself running your fingers through Nick’s hair. It was on the longer side, and you sadly knew he would end up cutting it soon. 

You had heard the stereotype that Latino men were typically very affectionate when they were drunk. Nick didn’t drink to excess though, you had never seen him this way. While Nick loved receiving affection, he wasn’t big on initiating or asking for it. Apparently, drunk Nick didn’t have that same problem. His inhibitions were wiped away with the alcohol buzzing in his veins.          

You find yourself draped across his lap an old Telenovela on the TV. His calloused hands caressing your body. You laugh to yourself as one of his hands finds your ass, sliding into your back pocket where it stays for the rest of the night. Nick starts to get drowsy less than ten minutes into the second episode. You persuade him upstairs and into your bedroom. You help him strip down to his boxers. Then he pulls you to lie down with him. 

Nick comes down the stairs holding his head late into the morning. Zara was already up watching TV and coloring her princess coloring book. You were in the kitchen cleaning up breakfast when Nick trudged in. You turn fling the towel you had been wiping the counters down over your shoulder. Nick poured himself a cup of coffee and turned to lean back on the counter. He purposely avoids your eyes. You shift feeling his tension, “How are you feeling mi amour?” 

He sips it before sighing loudly, “Okay, let’s just get this over with, how bad was I?” Your eyebrows furrow in confusion.  

“Um... I mean you were pretty drunk?” Your tone made it seem more like a question. But Nick was eyeing you wearily like he was expecting a lecture or a fight.  

“And?”  

“And what baby? I don't know what you want me to say. We ate and went to sleep. I made you breakfast.” You gestured to a plate of French toast. His dark eyes met yours searching them for something. He slumps rubbing his eyes as he sets his cup on the counter.  

“I’m sorry. Maria used to chew my ass out after I would drink like that. She used to also complain that I would get too handsy. That I overstepped- So, if I was-” 

“Nick, you weren’t. Not at all- well your hand was on my ass for the majority of the night but that's not really out of the ordinary.” He chuckled as you wrapped your arms around his waist trailing them up his back. He slides both hands down to your ass for a quick but firm squeeze. It makes both of you smile.

You would normally let it go, and act like the little moment was nothing. If it hadn’t seemed like a festering wound that needed healing. Maybe there was a bigger reason Nick was so careful about how much he drank. “Hey, I don’t know what Maria was talking about, I don't know what she experienced- but last night all you wanted was to cuddle and watch telenovelas on TV.”      

[holylulusworld]

Indecent Proposal (21)

Summary: Your boyfriend wants to be part of their empire. You are the pawn he’s willing to sacrifice.

Pairing: Mobster!Stucky x fem!Reader

Warnings: established Stucky, caring mobsters, pregnant reader, polyamory, fluff, romance, a little angst

Indecent Proposal (20)

Indecent Proposal masterlist

“Doll, you need to calm down. I’m fine,” Steve sighs deeply. He cannot stop you from cleaning his knuckles with a swap. “We want you to eat something and have a warm bath.”

“Y/N,” Bucky runs his hand over your back. “Stevie is right. Let him clean his knuckles. I’ll get you something to eat.”

You shake your head and grab Steve’s wrist when he tries to pull away. “No. I need…I need something to do to keep my mind off what happened. Please let me do this.”

Both men look at each other and swallow thickly. It was more than a close call. They believed you were safest at their home. How very wrong they were.

One simple lie and the woman attacking you sneaked inside their well-guarded home to fulfill her mission. – To kill you and your babies.

“Steve,” Bucky knows exactly what’s going on in his husband’s mind, “don’t. We couldn’t know she’d try to sneak inside our home. She was bold and determined, I give her that.”

“We promised Y/N to protect her and failed,” Steve sniffs. “How can she still feel safe if that woman could easily sneak inside our home.”

“The security was looking for Rumlow, not that nurse. How should we have known, Steve? Sometimes we fuck things up. It happens.”

“It cannot happen, Buck!” Steve angrily replies. “We have a pregnant wife, and that woman almost killed her and our babies!”

You wrap your arms around Steve’s neck. “It’s not your fault. Bucky saved me.”

“Because he’s a horny bastard,” Steve wraps his arms around you and brings you in his lap. “I don’t want to think about what could’ve happened if he wasn’t such a horny dog.”

“Same—” Bucky is unusually silent tonight. He blames himself for not walking you to the bathroom. If only he followed you the moment you told him you needed to pee, the attack could’ve been avoided.

“It’s not your fault either, Buck. You saved me with your incredible knife skills,” you drip your head to look at Bucky. “Come here for cuddles.”

“Only for a moment. I need to talk to Jake about the security cameras and check on the gate again. We cannot risk another lapse.”

Bucky joins you and Steve. He wraps both of you in a hug and nuzzles his face in his husband’s neck. For a few moments, he allows himself to be a loving husband and soon-to-be father.

The moment he leaves the room, he’ll turn into the stone-cold mobster his enemies fear. He’ll give Rumlow no chance to escape or get even close to you.

Steve was right. It’s hunting season and James Buchanan Barnes will be the hunter bringing Rumlow down.

“Barnes, you can’t be serious,” Natasha hisses. “I was nothing but loyal to you, Steve, and your organization. I’d never betray you.”

“You’ve been loyal to the money you got from us. Nothing else. You don’t know shit about loyalty and to die for the people close to you. If you are standing in my way in this, I’ll make sure that you get out of my way.”

“Bucky,” she tries to sweet-talk herself out of the more than dangerous situation she’s in. If Bucky knows that she warned Rumlow, and told him to leave town weeks ago, she will end up dead. Just like the nurse. “I don’t know what has gotten into him.”

“We know,” Bucky sneers at Natasha. “This is about some woman who didn’t respect boundaries. She tried to kill Steve to have me all for herself.”

Bucky points at the manila folder on Natasha’s desk.

Natasha quirks a brow. She opens the folder and thumbs through the pages. “I see. She killed herself.” She hums. “But what has this to do with Rumlow?”

“She’s his ex-girlfriend. He didn’t take it well that she left him to live a better life in the big city. Rumlow took it even worse that she killed herself because I wouldn’t let her murder my husband.”

“In other words,” Natasha sighs deeply, “your dick got you in trouble.”

“That’s not funny, Romanoff,” Bucky spats. “If you know where Rumlow is, this is your last chance to help us. Think about it.” He places an envelope filled with money on her desk. “I’ll give you a choice.”

“What do you mean?” She furrows her brows.

“You can stand there and lie to me to protect Rumlow, or you’ll take the money to go on a vacation after you tell me where he is,” Bucky slides a knife out of his sleeve. He twirls it between his fingers while keeping an eye on Natasha. “I cannot guarantee your safety if you decide on protecting him, though.”

“You’re threatening me, Barnes?“ She huffs to sound confident, but in reality, she fears for her life.

“No,” he steps closer, holding his knife in a tight grip. “I’m telling you exactly what’s going to happen.” Bucky takes another step toward Natasha to underline his words. “I do not threaten people. If I tell you that I’m going to kill you, then you’ll end up dead.”

She sucks in a breath. Natasha is by all means not a damsel in distress or easily scared. This doesn’t mean she she's not intimidated when an angry James Buchanan Barnes stands in front of her, a knife in his hand.

“You can have a good life, Natasha,” he whispers lowly. “Enough money to fulfill all of your wishes.” Bucky dips his head to look at the pictures on her desk. “If you want to leave town, we can arrange that too. New identity, new life. No problem.”

“I only need to rat Rumlow out,” she bitterly replies. “It’s like I killed him myself if I do so.”

“Natasha, he sent that woman to kill Y/N and our babies. If he wants us dead because his ex-girlfriend killed herself, fine. But he went after Y/N. She has nothing to do with this shit. Rumlow crossed more than one line. You know that.”

“He tried to kill the babies?” Her eyes widen, and she drops the picture in her hands. “Why didn’t you tell me this first?”

“I thought you heard it through the grapevine,” Bucky scoffs. “So, what will it be, Nat? Are you in or out?”

“I tried to save his life, believing he’s after you because he tries to bring your empire down. I believed he’s a good cop, nothing else, Bucky.” She drops the manila folder on her desk. “If this is a vendetta because of some girl, he’s all yours.”

Bucky watches Natasha grab her phone. “I assume you’re all in.”

“I don’t want to know what happened to him. Barnes, whatever you do to him, his body cannot be found in my town. Get rid of him. Throw him into the Grand Canyon. I don’t care. Just don’t do it in my town.”

“Fine.”

“I can’t guarantee that he’s there,” she says while scribbling down two addresses and two phone numbers. “The first number is his normal phone. The other one is a burner phone he used to call me a few weeks ago. Maybe your little geek can trace one of his phones.”

“That’s a start,” Bucky grabs the piece of paper. “I was never here.” He warns, still not convinced that Natasha is on their side. “Remember, you didn’t hear of Rumlow for weeks and know nothing about his activities.”

“You should’ve been a man and come here yourself, not send a girl. If you want something to be done right, do it yourself.”

He can hear Rumlow suck in a breath at the end of the line. If only he stays on the phone for a little longer, Jensen can trace his phone and find out where the bastard is hiding.

Bucky squares his jaw and takes a deep breath. He hates being like this, but this can’t be helped.

“You know, she died too fast for my taste. I would’ve liked hurting her for a little longer. She tried to kill my wife and babies after all.”

“You damn bastard,” Rumlow growls into the phone. “First my girl, and then her sister? How can you look in the mirror, you monster.”

“What do you want to do about it?” Bucky laughs into the phone. “How about you man up and we meet to settle things between us…”

He dips his head to look at Jensen, his brows furrowed.

Jake nods silently pointing at the computer to tell Bucky he found Rumlow’s position…

Part 22

Tags in reblog.

[hyunsvngs]

kinktober !

kink: knifeplay

pairing: kim seungmin x fem!reader

wc: 3k

knifeplay: consensual BDSM edgeplay involving knives, daggers, and swords as a source of stimulation.

It was perfect. You had fake blood all over your room, staining your once blue sheets, but the costume was perfect. 

For Halloween, your friends had decided to host a party at one of the dorms. You and your best friend, Jeongin, had decided it would be the best idea to dress up as Sidney Prescott and Ghostface. Your costume was quite easy - you already had an old denim jacket you could cover in blood, and a basic lilac top to go underneath it. When put together with a simple black pair of jeans, you felt completely ready. Your costumes were going to be the best.

The Instagram pictures would be amazing, too, you decided while walking to the party. You didn’t have a long way to walk, and it was quite amusing listening to the kids screaming for candy outside people’s doors - but all you could hope was that one of the members of 3Racha had actually cleaned the dorm this time, and not left it all on Hyunjin.

Music was already booming when you arrived, reverberating around your sober brain and making you wince. Would you regret coming here?

You realised you really did regret it, when the front door swung open and you were met with fox-like eyes in a… a fucking Pokemon trainer costume. Felix emerged from behind him, sharp yellow ears perched on his head and his cheeks covered in red. 

“Listen,” Jeongin began, gloved hand reaching out to you. You sighed, shutting your eyes. “It was Felix’s idea. Look at him. He’s really convincing, and I’m sorry I didn’t text, but Chan’s put this stupid no phone ban on and-”

“Look!” Felix chirped, and when you finally saw him… well, you understood what Jeongin meant. He was in yellow dungarees, tail wrapped on a string around his waist and little ears bobbing with his glee. When he looked at you, his face fell. “Oh. Oh, I’m so sorry. Did you guys have something planned, or-”

“No, not at all, Lixie,” You murmured, pulling him in for a hug. He really was so cute. No one could resist him. “I’ll find my Ghostface somewhere.”

Felix nuzzled into the hug, wrapping his arms around you, before he was squealing. “Seungmin’s dressed up as Ghostface! Oh, Innie, did you plan this?”

You blinked, turning to Jeongin. Seungmin was your arch nemesis, but only purely on the basis that you both had some heavily unresolved sexual tension.  Jeongin wouldn’t do this to you - or so you thought, because when you looked at his face, he was looking extremely guilty. “I know you have some… issues, but it needs to end now. It’s making things awkward, and, and… you can take pictures together, y’know? Then be friends,” He was mumbling, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. His Pokemon hat obscured most of his face, but you could still see the pout on his lips. Fuck this. You had the two sweetest men in front of you apologising, expecting you to be angry at them, but even you weren’t that mean.

You sighed, finally pushing past the two figures to enter the party. You were immediately attacked by a black plastic streamer dangling from the ceiling, and you swatted it away with a grunt. “It’s fine. Let’s do the pictures, then.”

It had always been the plan - to take pictures all together before the party really got into full swing. You had a feeling you’d been a little late because there were already quite a few people there. Still, you diligently walked into the kitchen behind Felix and Jeongin anyway, where everyone was standing around, conversing.

There he was. Ghostface mask pulled halfway off of his head to reveal dark, menacing features and a black cloak draped over his slender figure. Chunky black boots made an echoing noise as he tapped his foot impatiently on the tile, sipping out of a glass with one gloved hand and the other holding - a knife. It glinted in the light as he spun it around with his fingers, playing way too comfortably with the blade. Oh. Oh, no. Someone was playing a practical joke on you. 

“Is that knife real?” You squeaked, and Seungmin turned to you with a glare. “Like, it’s not a prop…? Why do you have a real knife?”

Seungmin raised an eyebrow, then his lips were curling upwards with a smile. “To finally kill you with.”

“Haha, that’s so funny,” You deadpanned, but half of you was considering if he was being genuine about it. It wouldn’t surprise you - he was a sadistic fuck, always had been since you met him. It was why you wanted him so bad. “Let’s take these pictures. I’m already over it.”

Felix fiddled with his camera, flicking off the lens cap and trying to get it in the perfect position on the counter. You scurried in front of Seungmin as he walked over after placing his cup aside. Once Felix had set the timer, he ran in front of the lens and clutched onto Jeongin. Oh, yeah. What was Seungmin supposed to do, given that you were matching?

You had your answer quickly. With one gloved hand, he pulled his mask down and pulled you into him by the waist, and then he was positioning the knife at your exposed collarbone. It nipped teasingly, the blade threatening to draw blood. You looked down in shock, only to see Seungmin’s hand confidently holding the handle - god, was he skilled with this? He hadn’t killed people, hopefully, but… what if he was into something like this?

Wetness pooled in your panties at the thought. It’s a kink straight out of your deepest, darkest desires. The idea of being too scared to move in case the knife bites at your skin, dripping crimson liquid down your body only to be lapped up by the blade again… yeah. It was hot, and for some reason, with your fake-enemy pressed against you, it was even hotter. You didn’t even blink when the flash went off, too focused on trying to keep your breaths even. 

Seungmin dropped his hand once the picture was taken, and then he yanked the mask back again. He was staring at you with a bewildered expression, but he looked somewhat impressed. Pulling you to one side by your arm, he gripped your waist again, trapping you against the wall so he could whisper into your ear. “Did you get turned on when I held that knife to your neck?”

“No, what’s wrong with you-“

“I heard you holding your fucking breath,” Seungmin hissed. “That’s fucking insane, you know? Dressing up as Sidney and then getting all… like that. It’s like you wanted me to do it.”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. Seungmin’s eyes flitted around your face. “I was actually meant to match with Jeongin, so maybe I wanted him to.”

“Oh, c’mon,” Seungmin scoffed, rolling his eyes. He pinched his temples, and then he sighed. “I know you want to fuck me. God, I want to fuck you too, so bad. I’m sick of playing this stupid push and pull when I could be upstairs fucking you with this knife to your neck right now.”

Your eyes widened. You let out a puff of air, trying to find the words to say, but you only noticed that fuck, Seungmin was awfully close all of a sudden. His breath was heavy on your burning cheeks. When you looked around the room, you could see that no one had noticed the two of you - Felix was too busy still jumping around and Changbin and Jisung had dressed as Peter Pan and Tinkerbell. You wanted to coo at Changbin, his bulging arms so adorable in the little green dress and wings, but you were definitely more engrossed in what Seungmin had to say.

“The party. We can’t leave, you know?” You finally spoke, and Seungmin pulled back. You wanted to cry. He looked around the room, nodding, before he was pulling the mask back onto his face and obscuring his annoyingly perfect features. 

“Half an hour. Jisung’s room, upstairs. Is that alright with you?” His voice was muffled, and you had to crane your head a bit to hear him. You nodded nonetheless, and he gave you a quick wave before disappearing into the crowd of dressed up men. 

You sighed heavily. This was about to be the longest half an hour of your life.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Jisung’s room was chaotic. You had literally no idea why Seungmin had decided on his room out of everyone’s - surely Hyunjin’s would be better, or even Chan’s with the mood lighting? You opened the door anyway, entering the small room and stepping over piles of clothes to lay back on the bed. At least the bedsheets were cleaned. Jisung’s lamp was the only source of light, leaving the room basked in a creepy orange Halloween atmosphere. It definitely fitted the setting.

It had been exactly half an hour. Seungmin was late. Was he ever late? In your whole pseudo-friendship, you were sure he’d never been late, and-

The door burst open and a masked figure emerged. You jolted, sitting upright on your hands and blinking at the man in costume. It briefly crossed your mind that you couldn’t even be sure it was Seungmin, and then he was tearing the mask off, throwing it aside. 

“It’s still me,” He said, tone soft. Was he a mind reader as well as a borderline psychopath? You nodded, wiggling forward on the bed when he sat across from you. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Did you bring the knife?” You responded. Seungmin burst out laughing, and then he was bringing it out from his jean pocket, beneath the cloak. 

“You are very fucked up. Has anyone ever told you that?” He murmured. You stared at his gloved palms as he threw the knife aside, moving on the bed to pin you down against the mattress. You wiggled impatiently, spreading your legs to allow him between them. Your chest heaved, staring up at him with doe eyes as he blinked down at you.

“‘M not fucked up,” You mumbled, pouting. Seungmin chuckled.

“What was it Billy said in the movie again? ‘It certainly fucked you up, it made you have sex with a psychopath’? Is that not what’s happening right now, baby?” His breath was hitting your face again, and you just couldn’t help it this time. With one hand on the back of his neck, you pulled him down, pressing your lips against his in the filthiest kiss you’d ever shared. Seungmin groaned, hands meeting your waist and delving into your mouth with his tongue. You let him nibble into your bottom lip, let him nearly draw blood with his teeth until you were whining, bucking your hips up for more. 

You whined, chasing his lips for more kisses. You heard fabric rustling, and then Seungmin was pressing an ice cold blade to your neck. You shifted immediately, laying back against the pillow and looking up at Seungmin obediently. He just smiled, appearing borderline menacing in the dim lighting of the room. You were so fucking wet.

“You do get off on this,” Seungmin mused. He leaned back on his ankles, letting the knife drag down your body. With a clean swipe, it was cutting through the fabric of your tank top and leaving you in just your bra. “Should I make you bleed, hm?”

“You can- you can do anything you want, Seungmin,” You sighed, arching your back to get more of the feeling of the blade against you. Seungmin bit his lip, dragging the blade down to your jeans. He wouldn’t be able to cut through that fabric - it’s too thick, he’d need something sharper. You could practically see the cogs turning in his head and then he was shaking his head, unbuttoning your jeans and yanking them down your legs. They balanced precariously on one ankle, and you kicked them off before eyeing Seungmin up and down. “Are you… gonna get naked, or?”

“I have different plans for tonight,” Seungmin replied quickly. He gripped the knife firmer this time, until he was dragging it down to your underwear. You knew you were wet, and you shut your eyes and moaned loudly when he pressed the blade into the wet spot forming in the fabric. You thanked every god that the music was still just as loud as earlier. “I’m going to finger you and play around with this knife. I don’t think you could handle more tonight.”

He was right. Another thing that irritated you beyond belief was the fact that Seungmin seemed to read your mind. First with your silly knife play kink, and now with the fact that you definitely couldn’t handle full blown sex tonight. You would’ve tried, and gotten yourself all fuzzy over it - but he knew better. 

“Okay,” You agreed. He hummed once more, and then he hooked the blade into the lace of your underwear, cutting them off of your body. He was a bit heavy handed though, and your legs thrashed when the blade nicked your skin just a little, causing a small crimson red cut to bloom on your hip bone.

“Oh, would you look at that?” He ogled the cut, running his thumb over it. It made you whine in pain, yet he ignored you and thrust his thumb into your mouth. The taste was tangy, a bit too metallic for your liking but the whole thing was so fucking hot you couldn’t deny him anything. “Did you like that, too? Okay. We’ll explore that another time.”

Seungmin threw the knife aside once more, and then two long fingers were pressing into your folds. You laid there with legs spread, letting him explore every dip and crevice in your pussy and examine how wet you were. You knew you were dripping, and he did too - it was just a waiting game. 

You squirmed, bucking your hips up. “I’m wet enough. I promise that I am, just-“

You gasped when he pressed the knife against your throat again. You hadn’t even seen him grab it. “Stay fucking still,” He warned. “I decide when you’re ready.”

Well, you could definitely get on board with that. Seungmin sunk his middle finger into you nonetheless, meeting no resistance. Your hole was dripping around him, leaking down to his knuckle and making him sigh in approval at the sight. He still had his gloves on, the faux leather buttery and smooth inside of your hole. “This pussy’s tight, huh?”

“I’d clench it for you,” You breathed out, letting one of your hands grab your tits over your bra. The knife was still pressed tightly against the column of your throat, but you managed to pull your tits out of the lace, making Seungmin’s eyes instantly flit down to your pebbled nipples. He started to thrust his finger inside of you, the material of his gloves dragging on your rim. “I’d- I’d clench around your cock, Seungie. Make it so tight for you.”

“Yeah?” Seungmin breathed. On his next thrust in, he pushed another finger in, and then he was curling two directly at that lovely spongy spot inside of you. “I’ll look forward to it, baby. Do my fingers feel good?”

“So good,” You gushed, tweaking your nipples with your fingers. “It’s so good, and- the knife, oh god-“

“Is it like you imagined, yeah?” He moved up to your side, easing his pressure on the blade so you could turn your head and kiss him. It was just as filthy, and he moaned in approval when your walls fluttered around his digits. When he pulled away, a string of saliva connected you both. “Maybe next time, I’ll fuck you with the handle of the knife.”

You keened, starting to bounce your hips against his hand. He obliged with your movements, pressing his palm up against your clit and letting you grind the sensitive bud into his calloused hand. It was just the right amount of soft and rough, making your toes curl in your socks and your orgasm build steadily, a white hot pleasure in your pussy. 

“It’s- I need it-“

“God, do you even know what you need?” Seungmin chuckled, kissing your cheek. “I think you need to cum for me, don’t you?”

You nodded erratically, letting your head fall onto his shoulder. Seungmin dropped the knife to his opposite side once more, replacing it with a firm grip to your throat with his spare hand. The sight of his gloved digits around your throat and restricting your airflow had you wailing once more, gripping his wrist and grinding with renewed fervour. 

“I think- oh, I’m gonna cum,” Your lips parted, letting out muted moans and whines at the feeling of his fingers inside of you. “Oh, yeah, I’m gonna cum!”

“Cum for me then, no need to make a noise,” Seungmin was still amused, and you gasped before you were cumming. “That’s it, there you go.”

You felt your hole gush around his fingers, soaking the material of his gloves with white cum and your clit throbbing through your orgasm. It felt good, not only to cum but to also finally have some tension resolved with such a prominent person in your life. 

When you finally came to, you were still gasping, breath heavy and burning your lungs with every exhale. You heard Seungmin coo at you, laying back and dragging you onto his chest. 

“Good?” He questioned, and you nodded.

Then, something hit you. “Seungmin?” He hummed in response. “You cut my shirt open. What do I wear for the rest of the party?”

Seungmin stopped breathing, and then he burst out laughing, full body laughs wreaking havoc on his body. 

“It’s not funny!” You whined, but you were giggling too, slapping his chest playfully.

“You can wear the cloak, baby,” He kissed your nose. “I have clothes on underneath.”

You hummed, nodding. “You still have to wear the mask though.”

“Fuckin’ freak,” He mumbled, but he was still grinning.

“You like it.”

Seungmin kissed you again, chaste and sweet. “Unfortunately, yes.”

[divinitysotherside]

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

I NEED YOU , CRAZY GIRL !

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ . your favorite streamer didn’t expect you to break into his house at all, but he likes you !?

warnings . stalker!reader , breaking in , swearing , smut / mdni , degradation , FERAL suguru , dry humping

.・。.・✭ — PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3

“oh my fuck..” suguru growled, purple eyes glaring up at you. “do not tell me you’re a fan.”

“bingo!” you grin, clapping your hands playfully.

“whatever, just kill me. i didn’t like this streamer job anyways,” he sighed, “it was all for extra money.”

“woahh, but i could’ve sworn you told your fans in a 100k special stream that you’re oh so grateful?” you smile, looking down at him.

“also..” you take your feet off of his chest, letting him breathe properly. “i’m not here to kill you, oh no no. there’s no fun in that, right, sugu?”

he cringed at the nickname, sitting up. “no funny attempts, or i will kill you, and you willl ruin my fun.” you growl, gripping the knife in your hands.

“okay, okay.” he put his hands up in surrender, looking up at you. “so, what do you want to do with me, then?”

“just need to see my suguru worshipping me..” you grin, eyes gleaming with excitement.

suguru scoffs, thinking of a plan to get out. because there is no way in hell that he’s worshipping a fan.

you turn around, expecting him to follow. but all he does is tackle you to the ground, pinning your wrists above your head.

“h–hey!” your knife had fallen to the floor mere seconds ago, and now suguru is in charge.

“motherfucking fan,” he curses, gripping your wrists tight. “i know what you want, and i’ll give it to you,” he huffs, purple eyes locked onto yours.

“you want me, right? want my body, my dick?” he asks, gritting his teeth in frustration. “you’re the only bitch who was brave enough to come here, and shamelessly ask for it,” suguru grunts, his other hand beginning to roam your body.

you grin, body leaning against his touch. “yeah, sugu, you know what i want?” you pant, eyes locked onto his hand exploring your curves.

“i do, i do.” he grunts, and you spot his bulge growing. how cute, a boner?

“gettin’ hard, suguu?” you tease, eyes looking up at him. “fuck, shut up,” his grip on your wrists tighten, and you feel his other hand spreading your legs.

he positions himself between your legs, panting as his boner nuzzles against your inner thigh, twitching needily.

“ngh.. fuck,” he curses, leaning down to roughly bite at your neck, leaving a few marks. this was his first time, so he didn’t know what to do.

his horniness was basically controlling his every move at this point.

his hips buck against yours, eliciting a whine from the man on top of you. his clothed cock humps against your thighs, his face buried in your neck.

“haa.. fuck, fuck, fuuck..” he groaned.

it always felt good when he was stroking himself, but he didn’t think it would feel this good with a partner. he should...let you stay.

shaking his head and clearing those thoughts from his brain, he continues to desperately hump you. “fuuckk..so good, so good..”

you were watching him, arousal soaking your panties as you get wet from watching him whine all over your neck just from humping you.

“didn’t expect a whiny streamer on my hands, not at all.” you chuckle, bucking your hips to meet his.

“shut up,” he groans, unbuckling his pants, his fingers fumbling with the belt.

“already?” you ask, laughing.

“no, of course not..” suguru mutters, his cock springing free from the confines of his pants.

“woah..” your jaw slightly dropped. his size was impressive, for someone who whimpers. his dick was absolutely big. pink, needy tip already leaking with precum.

fuck, you wanted a taste.

he holds his cock in his hand, jerking himself off as he looks down at you. “tch, what’re you waiting for? thought you were a crazy fan desperate for me?” he huffs, swirling his thumb over the tip.

you lean in closer, looking up at him with a grin before your tongue darted out to taste him.

oh my fuck. he tasted too good.

now, you wanted more.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Could you please try to make octavinelle boys with a reader that have talassophobia? Bonus: reader actually is not afraid at all of them in their human form and also carries with them a hunting knife everyday they don't hesitate on choose murder when is about fighting

Fear of the Deep | Yandere Octavinelle x Thassalophobia Reader

“Why aren’t you getting in the water (Y/n).”

Azul went out of his way to organize this beach event for the octavinelle dorm

And of course Crowley would send you as teacher assistant with camera in hand

Even if you tried confided in him about you phobia

But you stayed tucked under the umbrella and on your towel along with Grim who was already sleeping

Jade was asking 

And only Sevens would know if it was genuine

But he’d seen you swim in pools before 

So that wasn’t the problem but you wouldn’t tell him why

“None of your business…so go have fun out there.”

Without anymore words he scooped you up and began to walk to the beach 

You immediately reach for your knife fully intending to slice at the eel 

Stopped by your reaching arm before tossing you into the water

You surface quickly standing to return to the beach but you find that you can’t

Webbed hands pull you by your waist rocketing you far out from the waist-lengthed water

Still facing the beach you see Jade give a smile before diving in himself 

Now far out from the group and gaining your bearings you finally grip your knife stabbing at the force moving you farther out

Making contact you hear what sounds like a warbled scream squeal before you are left to tread by yourself 

Already going into a panic you scream

Frantically trying to keep yourself afloat as you try to call out for Crewel the acting teacher for that day

But to no avail

Left to struggle in the deep end you are flailing endlessly until your hands are grasped and placed on a sturdy set of shoulders

With no thought to who or what had grabbed you, you pulled yourself closer 

Nuzzling into a wet shoulder and neck as you began to cry 

In your frantic state you used your legs to wrap around your breathing buoy

Shrieking when you feel something slimy run across your leg

“Please!Please!Don’tletmego!Please!”

A hand, rubs the back of your head as they relish the beating of your scared heartbeat against their own

Further supporting you by they held you back with both hands 

Before carrying you to the beaches edge

“Pup!? I was looking for you! Where in Twisted Wonderland did you run off to? And why are you clinging to the mutt like that?”

You didn’t look up 

still sniveling in his neck while your arms held tight around his neck

“Everything is fine now but we had a little scare, I’ll take them back to their spot now.”

Crewel looked like he wanted to press further but he was pulled away by scolding at a certain student

“Floyd! If you drag another student under I’m whipping you to STYX and back!”

Back under your umbrella, you were slow to unwrap yourself legs and arms from Jade 

Who just now was registering how much you were shaking

Speaking lowly and urgently towards Azul who seemed to already have a towel in hand

The dorm leader shook the blush off his cheeks wrapping you in a towel 

Letting his ungloved hands linger on your exposed flesh 

“I saw what happened…are you alright?”

The words felt foreign 

You stayed silent

He sat down next to you rolling Grim into the sand and in the sun

He blushed, looking at the sea as he wormed his hand into your own

You looked to him but he refused to meet your gaze 

Finally able to regulate your breathing, you huffed exhausted

Leaning onto his shoulder as you felt your consciousness fading

Which would explain why you accepted the convenient cup of juice you’d been offered

Sipping away you paid no mind to the growing fuzziness in your brain

Only smiling at the light touches of fingers dancing along your face, your neck, and chest

You only lightly jerked when you felt the familiar weight of your knife being returned

Barely registering the cold peck against your cheeks

“Sorry ‘bout that Shrimpy didn’t know that was why~!” 

You weren’t angry…somehow

Even as Jade unfurled an untarnished paper and a pen

[lincolndjarin]

Best Kept Secret

chapter eighteen : portrait of a man (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 5.4k

summary : the mandalorian and reader do some reading

warnings, etc. : language, mentions of sex

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

It’s deliciously warm when you wake. You can feel his heartbeat and you can feel the soft traces of sunlight dancing along your back. You stretch in his arms slightly but freeze up as you feel him nuzzle his chin into your hair, planting a kiss against your hairline. 

His helmet is still off.

And the room is completely illuminated by the sunrise. 

He seems to sense your hesitancy and after some adjustment his face is concealed once more as you gaze up at him.

“Sorry sarad, I must have fallen asleep without it on.” His voice is gravelly and thick with sleep as he looks down at you. He’s acting like it wouldn’t be the end of the world if you accidentally saw.

 It might very well be.

You know his creed is precious to him, even if he says he is an apostate. You don’t want him to break it just for you and end up regretting it later.

“I don’t want to see until I’m allowed to.” That doesn’t really make sense and you know it. “Will I ever be allowed to? How does that work?” He sits up as you speak, stretching his arms above his head.

“I’ll explain it another time, right now I need to get you back to your room before someone realizes you're gone.” He’s crawled to the edge of the bed and he’s already pulling his boots on.

Oh yeah. 

It was easy to fall into a fantasy of staying here with him. For a moment there you had completely forgotten that you were married, and expected in other places. You stand looking for your dress as he attaches his armor. 

“Don’t change yet, it’ll be easier to sneak you back in if you aren’t wearing a shimmery gown.” He’s so quick with it, in the time it takes you to even find your gown he’s completely done getting ready. “Do you have everything?” He turns to face you as he takes the dress from you and throws it over his arm. 

Your eyes dart to the shelf. 

Your knife is up there. 

He chuckles when he catches your line of sight.

“Not gonna happen, princess. Let’s go.” He takes your hand and hastily drags you out of the cabin. In the morning light you can see what he had been carrying you over last night.

The cabin was built partially on top of the lake. It must be a pain having to carefully step over all of the water but he doesn’t seem to mind as he scoops you into his arms and looks to be contemplating something.

“Is your bedroom window unlocked?”

That’s an odd question. But you know it is, you’re several floors up so you never lock it.

“Yes, why?” 

“No reason.” You can hear a grin on his face. 

He starts walking, not really caring if he steps into the water as he carries you towards the castle. Once you're through the gardens and past the forest trail he adjusts his cowl to cover your face. You rest your head against his chest as he makes his way towards what you assume to be the servant's entrance. But you never hear a door open, instead he leans down to whisper to you.

“Keep your eyes closed.”

Is he about to take off his helmet in broad daylight?

You don’t get a chance to question it as you shut your eyes and you feel the cowl ripped from your face, there’s an unfamiliar rush of air against your skin and the sound of a click and a creak. 

“You can open them now.” He whispers again, you aren’t sure what you expect to see when you open your eyes but it certainly isn’t him standing on the outside of your window sill, balancing you in his arms.

You know immediately that it’s a mistake as you look down and find yourself several stories off the ground. 

“Maker! What is wrong with you!” You cling to him tighter but he simply laughs as he peels you off of him to set you inside. 

“Sorry, hand me your clothes.” There’s a sudden urgency in his voice that keeps you from arguing, you strip to your undergarments and toss him the things you borrowed, he doesn’t hesitate to throw your dress onto the floor. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.” You’re left staring dumbfounded as he jumps off the ledge at the same moment your door swings open and Elaine’s voice fills the room.

“I’m telling you, we don’t have to knock, she isn’t here, we’ll just wait for h-“ She stops and stares at you with wide eyes and your face gets hot at the implications of her words. 

“Good morning girls.” You stammer out as they both look surprised to see you.

“Apologies for not knocking my lady.” Elaine bows as she says it, cocking an eyebrow in your direction but you don’t give her a reaction as you simply walk to the mirror to be prepped. 

They seem relieved that you don’t have anything to say and you’re relieved that Elaine doesn’t press further as they begin to dress you. The gown Lysa chooses for today is a soft gray color, the fabric shimmers in the light and it sort of reminds you of the Mandalorian’s armor. 

Nobody seems to have anything to say to each other this morning but you truly don’t mind. In a few minutes you’ll get to see him again. 

And things are okay now. 

Right?

You’ve established a mutual want. 

But what does that mean?

Shit.

You hadn’t really talked about that. But that shouldn’t matter, he had practically confessed his love, he had given you his name. 

You need to talk about it.

But he never wants to talk about it.

This time has to be different though, things are good.

It has to be different.

You don’t even realize they’ve finished until Elaine clears her throat. 

“Kriff, sorry, thank you girls, you’ve done wonderful work as always.” It’s true. As you look up at yourself in the mirror to take in another amazing job done by them. You can’t even tell that you were being carried through the forest less than an hour ago.

“Thank you, my lady, shoes?” Lysa holds up a pair of flats and you nod, taking a seat at the vanity and hiking your skirt up a bit.

Shit.

You’re still wearing his socks. 

In your rush you must have forgotten about them. 

She stares for only a moment, her eyes darting up to your face before she removes them, slipping on your flats. You can tell by the way her eyebrows raise ever so slightly that she sees the dirt on the soles of your feet from your barefoot walk in the gardens last night, but thankfully she says nothing. After a beat of silence you cough awkwardly. 

“Thank you girls, that will be all.” They nod as they both take their leave. You give them time to make their way down the hall before you grab your journal and some pens, as you throw the door open he’s there just like always. He doesn’t look like someone who had flown you up to your window this morning, he looks exactly the same as always. There’s no sense in concealing the smile on your face as you stare at him.

“Library?” You ask as he nods, you begin your trek and he still stands behind you but closer than ever before, just a step or two back. “Can we talk today?”

“Of course, princess.” A wave of relief washes over you as he says it. This might be the first time he’s ever had a positive reaction to that question. You walk in a happy silence until you arrive. Today you do not hesitate to sit in the nook, no longer haunted by the memories of what’s transpired there. 

He stands sort of bashfully, looking at you and then at a few chairs nearby. 

This is why you need to talk.

It’s things like this, your relationship is so vaguely defined and in the cold light of day, just Din, doesn’t know where to sit. 

You scootch over a bit and pat the space next to you.

“Sit with me?” You say softly to hopefully ease the anxiety that is apparent in his body language. He relaxes a bit as he takes a seat next to you, you fit like puzzle pieces, like the nook was made for the two of you to sit comfortably.

It’s an added bonus that it’s far enough into the shelves that you’ll hear anyone coming before they see you. 

He leans back against the glass as you open your journal, uncapping a pen and lazily doodling. You can feel his gaze on the pages but you don’t mind.

“What did you want to talk about mesh’la?” He murmurs as he begins to trace his fingers along your back, drawing shapes into the fabric of your dress.

It shocks you a bit.

His blatant affection. 

Nothing could have prepared you for him to act like this in the daylight. 

Of course he had humored you in the markets, and when you had been “together” he had always been kind but now his voice had a certain devotion to it, and he touched you like he needed to do it to stay grounded. 

He almost seems… clingy.

It makes your heart flutter. 

“I guess I just wanted to talk about this,” You gesture at him with the pen. “us.” 

He hums softly in agreement. 

“Okay, what about us?” He tugs gently at one of the ribbons on your corset, not hard enough to pull it loose, just hard enough to grab your attention. You shoot a glare at him, there’s no actual fire behind it.

“I thought you said you’d be good?”

“And you said I could touch you a little.” As he says it you roll your eyes before turning back to your drawings. You’ve been sketching the same curved line. The hook of his nose you had felt last night. If he recognizes it he doesn’t say anything. 

“Fine. What exactly are we?” He resumes his tracing as you say it, it feels like a juvenile question, it’s what you would always ask your boyfriends back on Hoth after a few weeks of screwing around, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it.

“What was it you called me in the gardens? Your lover? I could be that if that’s what you’d like me to be.” His fingers have moved to your shoulders now, the shapes on your pages have turned into rough outlines of what you remember his jaw is shaped like.

Lover feels too impersonal.

This is more than that. 

He certainly isn’t your boyfriend, can you even have a boyfriend? Afterall you already have a husband. 

Would Din want to be your husband someday?

Could Din be your husband someday? Kodo certainly wouldn’t just let you leave, the trade deals your family so desperately needed would be useless if you did. Is it too soon to be thinking such a thing? You have only just truly become emotionally involved but also you’ve spent every waking moment with him for several weeks at this point. And you’ve had sex. 

Maker, why does this have to be so confusing?

“Is there maybe a Mando’a word for what we are?” You turn to look at him again.

He starts to say something but then he stops, seemingly changing his mind.

“How about kar’ta?” 

“Kar’ta? What’s that mean?” You like the way the word feels in your mouth. His knuckles are dragging against your arm now. 

“It means heart. You would be my heart and I would be yours.” His voice is warm and it feels like you’re sinking into his touches. 

His heart. 

You like that.

“My Kar’ta.” You say, looking down at your drawings, you have several mixed and matched faces, none of which seem to look right, you hold them up for him to see. “Do any of these look correct?” 

He points to the one of the bottom left, the eyes are lopsided. 

“That ones the closest, other than the eyes, none of the eyes are right.” You sigh, you already knew he would say that.

“They never are.” You flip the page and start drawing pairs of eyes. You’re silent for a few minutes, he continues tracing shapes into your back and you continue drawing, you eventually realize he’s mimicking your sketches. 

You know what you want to tell him. It’s a strange pivot in conversation but you need him to know. 

Your next words force themselves from your mouth. “I don’t love Kodo, I don’t even like him.” His movements stop, only for a second before continuing. 

“I would hope not, I don’t know if you noticed but he’s a bit of a monster.” 

“I know, I just wanted to say it. I just- I mean, I don’t think of myself as married to him, it’s more a title than anything else.” You hesitate for a moment. “And we don’t have sex. In case you were wondering.” You haven’t thought about that fact in a while.

Someday Kodo will want heirs. 

It makes you shudder a bit.

Maybe Din will get you out of here before that happens. 

He senses the tension you’re suddenly plagued with and he switches to just rubbing gentle circles against your back. 

“Okay.” He speaks so quietly now. 

“I don’t ever want to have sex with him.” You whisper, mostly to yourself. 

It had always been an inevitable thing. A duty you had to fulfill. But that was before you knew who he was. Before you knew you had married a monster. And that was before Din, before your kar’ta. 

“You don’t have to. I promise.”His voice is soothing but it does nothing to put you at ease.

It’s a promise he can’t keep.

But you don’t want to linger on this any longer so you nod, much to your chagrin he senses your hesitancy as he sits up. 

“Hey, I mean it. If he so much as touches you again, I swear it will be the last time.” 

“You can’t guarantee that Din.” He’s taking your sketchbook from you, setting it aside before holding your hands in his. 

“He isn’t going to touch you. Ever again. I never should have let him in the first place.” His grip on your hand tightens ever so slightly as he recalls the memory, you can’t help but frown.

“I’m glad you let him, you wouldn’t be here right now if you hadn’t.” 

That makes him go quiet. 

You both know you’re right, if he had laid a finger on Kodo he would at the very least have been fired. Worst case scenario he’d be dead.

“He won’t touch you again.” He sounds firmer this time. “I’m sworn to you. No one gets to touch you unless you want them to, not even me.” 

You want to believe that he could stop Kodo. That he could stop all six of his battle droids. It’ll be easier if you just let yourself believe it. 

So for now you do. 

You drop his hands and rest your head on his shoulder. 

“Okay.” You mumble. 

“Okay.” He tilts his helmet slightly to rest against your head.

You reach around to grab your book back. Opening to the page with the eyes. 

“Which ones are right?” You point around the page. He analyzes them for a bit before taking the pen again, scribbling until he’s drawn messy but identifiable eyes. 

“Like this.”

His drawing is crude but the eyes are nice. You carefully tear the outline of them out before placing them over the other drawing he had pointed out. 

It almost looks right. 

It almost suits the person you know. 

He lets you stay leaning on his shoulder so you don’t bother moving as you flip to an empty page. You think for a few moments on what to draw. 

The tiny toothbrush. 

You think of the sketch of mismatched parts you now have of him and what you’ve been able to feel out and you subconsciously start drawing a child. 

You give him Din’s nose, and dark curls. You don’t bother trying to copy his eyes, opting to instead give the little boy wide dark eyes. You scribble out several different versions of the child you’ve made up as he watches silently. 

Eventually you stop and just stare at the page full of little faces staring up at you. 

Does this boy exist somewhere out there?

It sort of seems that way, when you look at all the pieces of Din that don’t seem to make sense. The toothbrush, he had mentioned a kid at one point but hadn’t said much about it and now you know that he willingly showed his face to someone. Was it his child? Why did he have to say goodbye to his own child?

Can you imagine Din being a father? When you think of how well he takes care of himself it makes you worry a bit for any child in his care but then you think of how well he takes care of you.

Selflessly. 

He’s probably a good father. That must be where his protective nature comes from. 

His laughter breaks you out of your trance and he points to one of the drawings, the boy in that one has the largest eyes, and the pupils take up nearly the entirety of them.

“You got his eyes right in that one.” He says as he chuckles. 

“What?” You stammer out.

His eyes. 

“I assume you’re trying to figure out who he is? None of these are even close, but those eyes, those are his.” 

Of course he knew what you were doing, nothing got past him. 

You wait for more but that’s all he gives you.

You can wait longer, until he’s ready to talk about it. Based on the way he sighs you think that moment might be right now but he says something else instead.

“I don’t think I’ve apologized yet for what I said. Truly apologize.” You close the journal on your own this time before setting it down. 

He’s talking about what he said.

“I was… bored. You were entertainment.”

He knows you haven’t simply forgotten about it. Afterall, how could you? 

“It doesn’t excuse what I did, but I didn’t mean a word of it.”

You want to believe him terribly, but that nagging feeling in the back of your mind is persistent. A reminder that any moment he could decide to stop being Din, and go back to being nothing more than your shadow. 

“Why did you say it then?” 

You don’t want to have this conversation either. The last thing you want to do is relive those moments but you aren’t an idiot, your insecurities will eventually bubble up, it’s better to take care of this now before it grows into resentment. He’s leaning back again, out of your peripherals. 

“I meant it, when I said that I ache.” Is he sitting like that so you can’t look at him? “None of what I’m about to say is a good enough reason to explain my actions, nothing ever could be. You control my every thought and decision, sarad. I suppose I just thought that it would be best if you hated me, that it would make the pain dull, instead it only served to make me realize that I cannot live without you.”

That’s one hell of a proclamation.

“You wanted me to hate you?” As you say it you feel Beskar rest against the back of your shoulder. 

“For a while. It seemed like the least painful option. I deserved- deserve, your loathing. At first for feeling the way I did towards a married woman, a woman I was supposed to be protecting and instead was picturing naked.”

Hot. It’s hot in the library. It hasn’t been hot in the library for some time. 

“And then I saw the two of you together. And I knew immediately that you did not feel an ounce of love for that thing you were forced to wed. At that point I simply needed you to hate me to soothe the ache that signified that you could never be mine.” He sighs, and there’s a moment of hesitation before you hear the hiss of air you’re becoming all too familiar with. You aren’t exactly sure what you expect, it definitely isn’t the feeling of several kisses being peppered along the curve of your shoulder but you certainly aren’t going to complain about it. “I did not know weakness before I met you, you have turned me from a man made of steel to one of glass.” His voice rings clear and unfiltered throughout the room. 

He plants another kiss into your hair, there aren’t any traces of lust behind the action, just a pure adoration, he brushes a bit of your hair out of the way and for a moment you feel the bridge of his nose press against the back of your neck before he places one final, chaste kiss against your spine. When he speaks again his voice is modulated once more.

“I don’t want your forgiveness, I certainly haven’t earned it.” He finally leans forward so he’s back in your field of vision. “But I will. Someday I will be worthy of you, I promise.”

He already is. He always has been.

Will you ever get used to this? His genuine affections? It takes your breath away more than the sex did, the way he talks about you like you are not a woman, but a deity. The way he removes his helmet as if it doesn’t mean anything, just so he can feel you against his lips. 

There’s no sense in telling him that’s all you needed to hear. You know him, he won’t accept that, he’s far too stubborn. So instead you opt to make things more lighthearted.

“How do you plan to make it up to me, my kar’ta?” As you say it you can visibly see some of the stress leave his body, thank the gods. 

“I have plenty of ideas.” The way he says it makes your heart flutter and you nearly forget that he’s promised not to fuck you. “I was thinking I could take you to the library tomorrow.” You’d be lying if you said that didn’t sort of kill your buzz, considering where you’re currently sitting but he senses your reluctance and chuckles. “The big one, in the city, cyar’ika.”

“Oh.” You can’t help but laugh along with him now. “You know, you’re getting better at talking, about the important stuff that is.” You give him a smile.

“It’s easier when you don’t look at me.” He says it a bit abashedly.

“Why is that?”

“Before you I never felt like someone could see my face. Yet everytime you look at me it’s like I’m not wearing a helmet at all, like you’re staring right at me.” He takes your hand and brings your fingers to the bottom of the helmet, tilting his head down slightly so you can feel his lips as he kisses the pads of your fingers before withdrawing them.

Maker.

Yeah, you’re never gonna get used to that. 

Eventually he gets up to find some books, bringing you a mystery romance novel, you wouldn’t normally pick it for yourself but the cover art is interesting enough to draw you in, he appears to have some kind of maintenance guide on ship engines, you have no idea how he reads that kind of thing. As he hands you the books he motions for you to stand, when you do so he sits in the nook horizontally, with his feet up on the cushions, his back leaning against one of the surrounding shelves, motioning for you to sit between his legs. 

You want to protest that it won’t be comfortable for him but your resolve simply isn’t strong enough to resist as you crawl between his thighs, your back resting against his chest as you hand his literature to him. The nook isn’t really built for two people to sit like this, it’s a bit cramped but you couldn’t be more comfortable, you want to make sure he’s okay with this position but he’s already got his book open, held in one outstretched hand so you simply open yours, placing it on your bent knees. 

It’s surprisingly good. You’ve always had a preference for campy, over the top romance books. The sort of books with shirtless men riding horses on the front. The more ridiculous the better. But you’re completely absorbed by the story you find yourself in, gasping every so often at the reveals. 

It’s shocking once you realize you’ve already made it to the last chapter, you had completely forgotten you were lying against Din until you turn and see that he must have finished his book at some point because now he’s reading yours over your shoulder.

“Can we finish this before I take you to get your dinner?” He mumbles, leaning forward slightly.

There is a peace to this situation that you’re sure you’ve never known.

This is the kind of life you could have with him.

You can’t seem to find the words to respond, and the lump in your throat won’t let you make something up so you nod, and you lean your head back against his chest and continue where you left off. 

You like the ending. Much to your surprise the story ended happily, you had even teared up a bit when you realized everything was going to work out for the love interests. You might let him pick books for you more often, as long as he lets you find him something less boring to read. There has to be at least one exciting book about ships in here. 

If there isn’t, you’ll find him one tomorrow when you go to the city library. 

He sits up, which of course means you also sit up. He lets you stand first, your legs are stiff from being in the same position for hours but you find your footing quickly. He seems to be having no issues as he’s putting the books back. 

You’re waiting for him to take your hand so you can fetch dinner, the two of you standing in silence for a moment, when it hits you, you feel like an idiot. 

He isn’t going to take your hand. 

Because you’re leaving the library and someone could see. 

You plaster on a strained smile before leaving, thankfully he says nothing about your hesitation as you begin walking towards the kitchens. 

Leo is of course waiting for you by the entrance. (You’ve come to accept that he’s simply everywhere at this point.) And you do the same thing you always do, he asks what you’d like to eat, you tell him whatever they’ve cooked, he insists you can request anything you’d like, you insist you’d like what they’ve cooked. 

The only difference this time is that you ask for seconds.

He disappears in a huff before swiftly returning with several sealed dishes, as always he hands them to Mando and not you. 

✩

The two of you return to your chambers and when he steps inside you lock the door behind you.

“Sit.” You say it as sternly as possible. Like it’s an order. He sets the food on the floor before sitting with his legs crossed next to it. “You’re gonna eat, this is non-negotiable.” 

He immediately begins to protest but you shush him.

“You don’t need to feed me anymore. I can take care of myself.” He starts trying to stand but you firmly plant your hands on his shoulders and push him back down.

“Clearly not, you didn’t eat once today, I’m sure of it.” You frown down at him.

“Neither did you.”

“That's because I was watching you! And now to make up for it I’m going to eat real food, not ration packs.”

He doesn’t budge, still staring at you blankly.

“Listen… if you do this, I’ll reward you.” You raise your eyebrows suggestively.

You hadn’t really planned to give in so soon but you’re only human, he had gotten you pretty fired up in the library today whether that was his intention or not. 

And you certainly aren’t going to say it, but you miss being with him in that way.

“Are you trying to bribe me with sex?” The disbelief in his voice is apparent, you ignore it, dividing up the food, making sure his portion is considerably larger, they always give you too much food anyway.

“Is it working?” You set the plate in front of him, batting your eyelashes innocently. He coughs nervously, leaning back.

“No. I don’t want sex to be a currency with you, I want you to want it.” His voice is strained and you can’t help but smirk. 

“That’s a shame, because you’re going to eat either way.” You stand, walking so you're behind him, sitting back to back, your plate in your lap. 

“That’s a wild assumption, princess.” His voice is still modulated so you know he hasn’t made any attempts to listen. 

“I thought you were trying to earn my forgiveness?” That shuts him up. He grumbles for a few moments before you hear a hiss and a clunk as he sets his helmet on the floor. “Thank you.”

“Don’t sound so smug, you can only use that reason so many times before I stop giving in.” He mumbles through a mouthful of food, it makes you grin. 

“Speaking of your road to redemption, can I ask you any questions I want now?” You swallow a bite as you say it.

“Sure, I’m not going to guarantee an answer, but sure.”

“What was on the flower, the one I gave you for your birthday?” He groans the moment you ask it.

“Please don’t make me say it, I know you know.” He sounds terribly embarrassed but you’re simply furrowing your brow in confusion. Are you supposed to know? You think on it for a few minutes, chewing thoughtfully before your eyes go wide.

“Was that a piece of my nightie that you ripped the first time we-“

“Yes.” 

Your face couldn’t possibly get any redder and your smile couldn’t possibly get any wider. 

“I didn’t take you for the sentimental type.” You can’t help but tease, he’s so rarely flustered in lighthearted moments like this.

“There are plenty of things you don’t know about me.” You hum softly at his response. “I’d like it if you did know them.” He always has to have the upperhand, he can never just let you tease him without leaving you breathless. 

“I’d like to know everything.” 

“I’d tell you everything.” He sounds so sincere. 

But he doesn’t sound ready.

“When you really want to.”  

He’s quiet, briefly, and then he reaches back to set his empty plate down next to you, you aren’t even halfway done with yours. You turn around as he stands, you didn’t hear him put his helmet back on but there it is. 

“It’s late princess, I need to go home.” 

There’s undeniably disappointment on your face as you stand, following him to the door. 

“You don’t want to stay? I’m pretty sure I owe you a reward.” You give him a hopeful smile and his glove covers your eyes, your heart is racing. 

There’s that wonderful hiss of air. It’s quickly becoming your favorite sound in the world. 

You’re practically vibrating with anticipation.

And then you feel a soft kiss on your forehead. 

In an instant the glove is gone and the helmet is back in place as if it had never moved. 

“Good night, sarad’ika.” You feel ridiculous as you pout at him. 

“You can’t be serious.”

He chuckles as he opens the door. 

“Are you really going to turn me down?”  You reach past him to try and close it again but he holds it open, still laughing. 

“Yes, I am. Tonight I am.” He’s got one foot out the door now.  

“Din… I’m giving you permission, I swear, it’s fine.” 

“I’m afraid it’s not gonna happen tonight, cyare”

For Maker’s sake you’re practically begging him. 

“Then when?” As you ask he leans forward, just a tiny bit.

“When you really want to.”  

And just like that he’s leaving, shutting the door behind him.

Cocky bastard.

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[ramsayxme]

Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four / Chapter Five / Chapter Six / AO3 Link

TW - ramsay bolton, marriage, forceful sex, choking, unconscious sex, murder, death, manipulation, cutting / talking about wounds in detail, violence, stockholm syndrome.

Chapter Seven: You Belong Here

For the first time in a very long time, you were woken up by sunlight beaming down on your face. You turned over, nuzzling into your sleeping lover. Ramsay slept flat on his back with one hand always touching you. You blinked as you woke up, staring lovingly at Ramsay. Sleep made him look soft, his chest rose and fell gently with his breathing. You kissed his chest as you propped yourself up on your elbows, stomach on the bed. "Ramsay..." You whispered. He softly stirred, his eyes rolling open, a small grunt escaping his lips. Seeing him like this made you smile.

"My love, wake up." You whispered again, tracing the muscles on his toned arms with your fingertips. Ramsay rolled into you, wrapping you in his arms. He nuzzled his warm face in your chest, a raspy groan coming from his throat. "No." He said, his voice hoarse and thick with sleep but muffled into your body. You could feel him exhaling against your chest as you stroked his hair. You knew you were falling in love with him. You hadn't fully accepted it yet, but you knew it was happening. Today you were going to marry him and the idea didn't completely scare you, in fact you were almost excited.

"Ramsay, we are going to have our wedding today." You whispered, causing him to roll onto his back and finally open his beautiful eyes. "Yes, we are." He mumbled, his lips turning into a grin. "Are you excited?" He asked. You nodded, your hair falling onto his bare chest. "Of course I am. Are you?" He chuckled, brushing your hair back with his hand. "Yes. I am."

Ramsay sat up and climbed out of bed. "In fact, we should get up. I would hate to have to wait any longer than we have to for our wedding night." He flashed a grin at you and you felt your stomach flutter. You giggled and scurried off, Ramsay slapping your ass as you ran away. You ran all the way to your chambers where there was a long white dress waiting for you on your bed, and a white fur cloak. Reek was waiting for you in the corner of your room. He startled you, as you didn’t expect to see anyone.

“I’m here to help you with anything you may need, M’Lady.” He muttered. You walked up to him. “I’m sorry for last night, Reek… I didn’t want to hit you.” You reached your hand out to him, trying to show some humanly comfort but he only flinched. He didn’t respond to your apology. “Master said I am not allowed to s-speak any more to you, only to say what I have to.” Reek trembled. You sighed as you turned to your dress. There was no sense in trying anymore, he was a lost cause. Reek turned around so you could get dressed. You wondered if you were also a lost cause as you pulled your wedding gown over your head and fastened your bridal cloak.

You heard footsteps running in the hallway and a few men shouting. This wasn’t normal, but you didn’t want to involve yourself. Reek shuddered at the sound. Ramsay opened your door, he was dressed in the finest leather you’ve seen him wear. Gods, he was handsome. His hair was clean and curling under his ears. His freshly shaven skin looked soft and gentle, but you knew it was a mask; one that you’d come to love. Ramsay grinned. “Reek! Go make sure everything is set up to my liking and let me have a moment with my future wife!” He barked, sending Reek scrambling out the door.

That’s when you noticed the bloody knife in Ramsay’s hand. He wiped the knife clean on a blanket draped over the chair in your room. He noticed your gaze lingering on his knife and he chuckled. “Don’t worry, my love. I’ll never hurt you. It’s unfortunate, really…. My father must’ve been poisoned by our enemies… I just found him dead.” Ramsay grinned at you as he stepped closer, putting his knife back into its sheath. He wrapped his hands around your waist and admired your beauty. “Now, we truly can be the Lord and Lady of the Dreadfort.”

Your chest felt warm as you pressed your lips against his. You knew he had just stabbed his own father, but you felt the urge to belong to him in this moment. He was doing this for your future, your title, your family. You felt somewhat honored. Again, Ramsay had the power to make you feel less than the dirt caked to his shoes one minute and then the next minute, the best prize in all of the seven kingdoms. Your arms hung around his neck, your fingers playing with his curls on the back of his neck. He gave you a closed lip smile as his eyes scanned your face.

Your wedding was somber, as Roose Bolton had just been murdered, but it was beautiful for you and your husband. Bolton men lined the courtyard with torches as you and Ramsay shared your moments. It was early evening, the sun had set and the sky was hazy. Nothing else mattered, the audible fear from both women and men had been drowned out by Ramsays gaze. He stared at you with a mixture of possession and longing. Snow gently fell, sprinkling flakes on Ramsay's dark hair. He looked absolutely handsome. His eyes pierced into you, his mouth tightened into a grin as you spoke. "I take this man." You announced when prompted, and you and Ramsay sealed your marriage with a kiss.

You walked down the aisle together now as husband and wife, Lord and Lady of the Dreadfort, Warden and Wardeness of the North. Ramsay was grinning from ear to ear and so were you. Although the pit of fear in your stomach was always there, you had learned to befriend it; almost welcome it. Ramsay was yours, and you were his.

Ramsay led you to your chamber that you now shared. You stepped in and he closed the door with a loud groan from the old hinges. "Are you pleased, my lady?" He asked you, stepping towards you. You nodded, smiling. "Yes, very. I love you, Ramsay." You finally spoke the words that you had been holding deep within you, locked away in a box built of shame and guilt. Ramsay smiled as he took your hands, leading you to the bed. You were completely under his spell, you were putty in his hands. He could tear you to pieces if he wanted to, limb by limb, and you wouldn't complain.

All of the sudden, Ramsay spun you around and yanked your body against his, your back pressing into his chest. He snarled as his teeth yanked at the shoulder of your dress, his hand snaking around your body to grip your throat. "You're mine." He growled, causing your eyes to flutter, knowing he was about to ravish your body. "Take off your clothes." He demanded, shoving you forward and causing you to fall to the floor. Your hands were shaky with anticipation as you unclasped your cloak and began pulling at your dress. It was fastened tightly, it was taking a long time. Ramsay was growing impatient as he grabbed the same knife that had plunged into his father's chest that evening. He brought the knife to your back and sliced the back of the dress open.

You felt pain as you realized he had also slashed the skin on your back quite deeply while cutting the cloth. You felt the warmth of blood begin trickling out of your fresh wound. Ramsay didn't care, jerking the dress open fully with his hands until it fell to the floor. Ramsay had the devil in his eyes as he turned you around, meeting your gaze. He flashed his teeth before he sunk them into your shoulder. You moaned as Ramsay began to suck on your skin, leaving dark bruises in his path.

He pushed you down on the bed, stomach down and face first. He yanked his own clothing off before he mounted you, spitting on his hard cock before shoving it deep inside you. As soon as his cock entered you, you felt his fingers at your back wound. He pressed his fingers into the deep cut, causing you to scream out in pain. Ramsay growled as he began thrusting hard, you know he enjoyed to hear you in pain. He leaned forward and bit your wound, pulling even more screams from your lungs. Your eyes swelled with tears as he applied more pressure to your open skin.

Even with the pain you were enduring, you tilted your hips slightly to allow Ramsay full access into you. He groaned when you did so, the slight angle allowing him to slide in with more ease. "That's a good girl... I've trained you so well." He moaned as he stayed leaned forward, his teeth leaving throbbing marks on your upper back. One of his hands found your hair as he yanked your head back, forcing your neck to bend so you could look at him upside-down.

His pace slowed as he leaned closer to your ear. His face had your blood on it from kissing your wounded back. He gently whispered to you, "Do you remember our first night together? You fought me so hard... and now, your cunt is soaking wet with the thought of me abusing you, isn't it? You're so good." He purred. You couldn't deny him, moaning in agreement. He yanked on your hair even more, your neck unable to bend back any further, as he let go of your hair and wrapped his arm around your neck. Your chin rested in the crook of his elbow as he squeezed, growling in your ear as he choked you relentlessly. You attempted to whine, but only wheezes came out as you felt yourself slipping into unconsciousness.

You immediately knew you had passed out. You sucked in air as you felt reality seep back in, Ramsay still fucking you without yield. You were dizzy as Ramsay flipped you over, your body obeying him like a rag doll. You looked at your husbands face, he had wiped the blood off of himself. Ramsay's lips tightened as he reached his hand out and slapped you across the face with all of his force. The single stinging slap was enough to nearly knock you unconscious again.

You felt your eyes rattling in your skull as you focused on Ramsay, his hand pulled back so he could swing again. Before he could, you reached up and gripped his throat with both of your hands. He grinned, "There you go!" He growled. He grabbed you tightly and flipped the both of you over once more, so you were on top of him. His hair flopped on the bed and he looked up at you. "I made you mine. Now, make me yours." His eyebrows raised when you hesitated.

You leaned forward, putting all of your weight onto his throat. His eyes slightly bulged as he smiled, "Hit me." He wheezed. You pulled your hand back and slapped him with all the strength you had. His smile didn't fade as his eyes fluttered. You pulled back again, forming a fist this time. You landed your punch on his cheekbone, he moaned with sadistic satisfaction. You didn't ease up, your body was bubbling over with leftover anger from how he had treated you, sudden bursts of power, and an uncontrollable urge to hurt him.

You kept throwing punches at your new husband's gorgeous face, kissing each of his cheekbones with flowering bruises. He never stopped grinning as he absorbed your blows. You leaned forward to choke him again, not letting go. Ramsay's eyes slid backwards as he fell unconscious just as you had. The monster within him fell silent as his head fell limply to the side. You paused as you realized he was knocked out, his cock still hard inside you. You rocked back and forth, wanting your pleasure to continue. Ramsay had used you, couldn't you use him in return?

You slid your body up and down on his cock, peering at his face every few moments to see if he was waking back up. You felt powerful, but nothing in you wanted to leave him. You could've gotten up and left him forever but instead you leaned forward, pressing your bare chest against his as you bucked your hips up and down on his cock. You felt the warmth growing in your core as you reached down to rub yourself as he slid in and out of you at your own perfect pace. You started to teeter on the edge of an orgasm when you saw his eyes flicker back to life. He grinned, watching you bring yourself to climax on his cock. You erupted, quivering and moaning as your body rode out the wave on him. He lay there, his arms behind his head and grinning, admiring his wife's orgasmic bliss.

You slowly came down from your orgasm as you laughed, sliding your body off of Ramsay. "My Lord, that was-" You had barely lifted yourself off of him before he grabbed your throat once again, slamming you backwards into the bed. "You think I am finished with you? I didn't get to come yet, my love! You'd be quite selfish if you didn't allow your husband to finish on his wedding night, don't you think?" He purred as he inserted himself back into your soaking slit, forcing your back into the bed. Your back ached as you remembered your wound, now being scratched against the blankets once more.

Ramsay choked you hard with both of his hands as he fucked you, knocking you unconscious once again. This time, you knew it was for a long period of time. You woke to find your husband sleeping at your side, and your body leaking his seed. You groaned as you saw the welts across your chest from his bites, your wounded back had crusted itself to the covers as you peeled yourself upright. Your body was screaming with agony as you turned sideways to lay within the crescent shape of your husbands body.

You prayed to the Gods that night. You prayed that you were pregnant with Ramsay's son. You prayed that he wouldn't hurt you through the night. You prayed for a happy marriage and for Ramsay to love you as much as you felt yourself growing to love him, regardless of the things he did to you. You prayed a second time to be pregnant with an heir. You didn't want to to disappoint your husband and the sooner you could provide him an heir, the happier he would be. You drifted off to sleep, your body screaming for help but your mind in a blissful state of attachment. You officially belonged to Ramsay. You smiled, allowing the screams from your body to be silenced by your husbands gentle snoring.

Chapter Eight

[konigenblobbity]

What is your Problem?! [Part 2]

Ghost x F!Reader , Soap x F!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, kinda Angsty, loving Soap, jealous Ghost and Soap, arguing

—> [Part 1]

Summary: The night after your outburst, you wake up with a slight sense of dread. Ghost treated you awful before… now after you yelled at him? Disrespected him like you did? You could only fear what he had in store for you at todays training

A/n: I did not expect the amount of love this fic would get, thank you! And due to multiple requests, here’s the second part! You can find the first part here

Following the celebration, you spent the night with Soap in his dorm, worried that Ghost would pay an unexpected visit to your own. Soap held you close to his chest through the night. Relishing in how you nuzzled into him. He softly caressed your back as he felt your breathing slow to an even pace. Falling asleep soon after you.

Your kiss led to nothing that night, Soap not wanting to harm or use you in any way when you were in such a vulnerable and tipsy state. He instead softly led you back to his room, gently pushing you away if you tried to kiss him more, carefully lying you on the bed, coercing you to sleep.

The next morning you woke up to Soap softly caressing your head, kneeling next to the bed. “Cmon Lass, gotta wake up” his voice was soft and you sat up in the bed. It’s then that Soap moves away, returning with a cup of coffee he grabbed earlier from the common area and a set of your clothes which he grabbed from your dorm.

“Thank you Soap…” you say with a soft and raspy voice. You grab your throat softly in shock but then laugh it off. “Did a bit too much yelling yesterday it seems” Soap gives a soft chuckle at your words, smiling at you. His expression then grows serious.

“Lass Listen… I’m not sure what’s awaiting you today, with Ghost and everything” he rests his hand on your leg, softly caressing it through the fabric of the blanket covering it. “If he does anything out of line… come to me. Alright?” His words were sincere, clear concern in them, wanting to fulfill his promise of taking care of you.

You smile and place one of your hands on his. Softly grasping it while taking a sip from the coffee he brought to you. “Alright… I promise that if anything happens. I’ll tell you about it” you give him a reassuring smile, but there is clear unease that fills you at the mention of Ghost.

He lifts your hand off the blanket, kissing the back of it before smiling and throwing you a quick wink. He then stands up “Alright then, I’m gonna go ahead to training, you get dressed and I’ll see you there in a bit yeah?” You smile and nod your head, watching as he walks off through the door, leaving you in the silence of his room.

You finish your coffee and get dressed into your uniform, grabbing only your combat knife from your gear and then walking to the door. You take a deep breathe, calming your nerves before you leave for, what may very well be, the most brutal training you’ll ever experience.

You walk down the halls, attempting to trick yourself with your false confidence. Making every step seem purposeful as you look ahead, watching people duck out of your way as you walk past, managing to deceive them into thinking you were unshakable, when you were on the brink of collapsing from fear.

You walk through the doors of the training room, you notice everyone else had already begun, some of them by the equipment and machines to exercise, most of them paired up doing close contact combat practice.

Out of the corner of your eye you spot Ghost, he was on a bench watching two soldiers spar, but without even having to look, you knew his eyes were on you the second you walked through the door. When he stands, you walk the opposite direction, spotting Kyle sitting on a bench.

“Hey, there you are!” He stands up and puts out his hand and you smile, you shake his hand, and he pulls you against him for quick hug. “What, you miss me?” You tease and he just laughs. He lets go of your hand and then places his hands on his hip. “Never got to congratulate yesterday…” he says and you shrug.

“Honestly, I don’t remember much of yesterday” that was a lie… you remembered practically everything, up until when you downed the bottle of whiskey and Soap had to take care of you the rest of the evening. Gaz just lets out a laugh, jokingly punching your arm. “Fair enough! Glad you got to enjoy it” you simply nod at his statement.

At the sound of footsteps growing closer you nod your head to an empty set of mats on the ground “Up for a little spar?” You ask Gaz and he smiles. “Let’s do it… might be fun to take your ego down a notch after yesterday” he gives a playful wink before he walks over to the mats.

You roll your eyes and quickly follow him, trying to get away from Ghost, who you knew wasn’t far from where you two stood. You wanted to avoid interacting with Ghost for as long as possible, not ready to face him after yesterday, unsure how to even approach discussing your outburst with him.

You took your place across from Gaz on the mats, taking a deep breath as you focus on sparring Gaz, pushing everything else away, and just doing what you were good at. Someone on the sidelines counted down, and when they said ‘go!’ you felt every thought in your mind vanish… body taken over by the animalistic side that was your military training.

You had Gaz pinned down to the mat within seconds. Much quicker than you’d ever managed before, it even had you in shock as you sat on Gaz’s chest, combat knife to his throat. He was shocked but then chuckled lightly. “Well damn… that was fast” you break from your daze and sit up off his chest, putting your knife away.

“Guess that’s what I get when I spar the most skilled soldier in the force” you reach your hand down and smile at his words, he takes your hand and help him stand up. It’s then that you notice a few other soldiers standing by the side with shock written on their expressions. You try to ignore them, seeing as Ghost was amongst them.

You simply look at Gaz and respond. “Thanks Gaz, I doubt that’s true” he shakes his head and puts a hand on your shoulder. “Cmon now, you train harder and more than anyone else, it’s no shock that you’re a master at close combat” you blush lightly, smiling at his kind words.

It’s then that someone else steps up to the mat, “I’ll be the judge of that” you turn your head and spot a soldier you’ve seen multiple times before, you simply nod at his challenge. “Good luck” Gaz says with a playful tone and steps back from the mat, joining the others on the sidelines. You take your position again on the mats, facing your opponent.

As someone counts down again, you once again felt everything shut off aside from instincts. “GO!” the soldier yells and just like before, you lunged towards your opponent, having his body in an arm bar after what seemed like, to him at least, the blink of an eye. There was a whistle or two behind you both from the crowd that began to form.

When he tapped your leg you let go, and he got up brushing himself off with a grimace on his face. You put your hand out, as a sign of good sportsmanship but he swats it away, walking off, muttering under his breath You chuckle lightly, loving how you felt confidence begin to surge through you.

Your breath catches in your throat at the familiar sound of Ghost’s voice. “Soldier. That’s not how we spar, 50 push-ups. Now” relief ran through you when you realized he wasn’t speaking to you. Daring to look where his voice came from, you saw he was referring to the soldier you just sparred. Ghost’s hand gripping his arm, glaring into his eyes.

The soldier looked irritated, but didn’t dare to disrespect Ghost. “Yes Sir” he says through seething teeth, dropping to the ground and beginning to serve his punishment. It’s then that Ghost looks back over to you on the mat, you keep eye contact, suddenly feeling bold. He simply nods his head… you were speechless.

There didn’t seem to be any ill intent in his action, almost as if it was a sign of comradery… a sign of respect. Immediately at that thought you look away, chuckling to yourself at such an absurd thought. As if Ghost would ever show you any sign of respect… especially after your outburst yesterday. He must be messing with you, trying to put you in a false sense of security… in order to break you later.

When you look back at the mat, another soldier steps up ready to take you down. After you pinned them on their stomach, and they walk off with clenched fists, another soldier has already taken their place. This goes on for a while, people stepping up feeling confident, smirks on their faces, only to leave with a feeling of disappointment after you had them pinned at your mercy.

Some shake your hand, some laugh it off with a smile, some congratulate you, and those who dare act immature, swatting away your hand, or accusing you of cheating, immediately draw Ghost’s attention. His voice stern and clear as he demands they drop to the ground, and pay their punishment.

You try to ignore it, convincing yourself it was for him to keep good face, but he seemed only focused on those who disrespected you… ignoring all the other soldiers sparring on the other mats. He stood watching you like a hawk as you knocked down soldier after soldier.

However, you only cared about the praise coming from Soap, who stood in the crowd, watching you intently. He was smirking the whole time, offering you a high five or a whistle at a particularly quick takedown. It had Ghost seething… he felt jealous. Wanting so badly to interact with you how Soap did.

Just then he approaches the mat, your smile drops and you feel your heartbeat quicken. He looks down at you through his mask, his whole figure was menacing. “My turn.” He said simply, causing a few other soldiers to ‘ooo’ softly, knowing just how exciting this pair up would be. You gulp down the lump in your throat, feeling a shiver go through you.

Before you can even respond Soap steps in front of Ghost, blocking his path. “I was first, wait your turn yeah?” there was a moment of silence. Both men glaring the other down, that is until some people in the crowd speak up. Sadly, not in the way you hoped. They begin to calm Soap down, telling him to just let Ghost go first, telling him how exciting it would be to watch us go head to head.

Soap looks at you, and although you were afraid, you couldn’t avoid Ghost forever. You nod slightly at Soap, telling him it was okay, as much as he hated it, he stepped down, joining the sidelines once again. He watches Ghost walk past him, not even sparing him a glance, getting in position in front of you on the mat.

You slowly move to do the same, looking at him across from you, grabbing your knife tightly, ready for what will be the most difficult sparring session of your training today. Once again a soldier begins to count down.

“Three…” your heart was racing, “two…” you felt your grip tighten on the knife, knuckles whitening, “one…” Ghost’s stare made your stomach churn, maybe this wasn’t a good idea. “Go!” too late. You watch as Ghost lunges towards you, aiming to grab at your waist, you dodge and move aside, deciding to take this opportunity to your advantage.

All your pent up rage for months, you now had the chance to take it all out on the man who was the cause for all your suffering. You thought back to every time Ghost told you off in front of your team… to every time he made you stay late in training, every time he insulted you, every time he denied you basic respect! You felt your blood boil, every part of you trembling with rage, your gaze went dark, seeing red.

The spar went on for longer than all the others, at times he pinned you down, others you had your knife to his throat, but it didn’t seem to come to an end. You both pause for a moment, keeping distance from each other, panting hard, sweating from exhaustion, but your fire still burning inside you.

Everyone else was watching intently, no longer focusing on their own training, too entranced in the scene before them. When you hear Soap’s voice you smile “GO ON LASS! Take him down a notch!” loving how vocal he was with his support, how much he wanted to watch you take your vengeance.

You noticed how Ghost’s eyes glanced over at Soap for a moment, a whole new anger taking over him. That was your chance… you lunge forward, taking him down, a loud thud echoing around the room as his back collided with the mats. There was a collective ‘ooo’ from the crowd but you blocked it out.

Before he could retaliate you had him on his knees, standing behind him, your knife against his throat, an arm twisted, wrist pinned to his back by your knee. He was frozen for a moment, before dropping his knife as a sign of forfeit. The crowd begins to clap and you let out a breath, stepping back from Ghost’s body, bracing yourself on your knees.

Exhaustion took over your body, but you couldn’t help but chuckle to yourself… you won. You beat him. Your body then froze and eyes widen. Shit… you beat him. Your feeling of satisfaction and joy was taken over by fear. No chance he was going to let you get away with damaging his dignity like that… and in front of everyone too?!?

‘Shit I should’ve let him win! What was I thinking?! I wasn’t thinking!!’ Your thoughts were interrupted by a pat on your back. You turn your head to see Soap, he had a grin from ear to ear, pride clear on his face. “Well done lass!” You smile back at him, deciding to push away your other thoughts and just enjoy this moment of victory.

People pat you on the back, congratulating you before walking off to continue their own training. You look back at the mat and watch Ghost stand up, some people patting his back, saying something, and he just shrugs. You take a breath before walking over, he turns and faces you.

You put out your hand and smile “That was fun… it was close” every second feels like an hour as you wait for him to accept your hand. When he finally does you relax a little, he doesn’t grip it harshly… he didn’t try to threaten you. He just spoke in a sincere voice “Well done… Gaz was right, you’re one of the best soldiers we got”

Those words took you aback. Never once had he said that before… never once had he complimented you on anything. There was shock written on your face, still shaking his hand, as if in a daze. He really wasn’t trying to trick you, his voice was too sincere, too honest, for it all just to be a trap.

Ghost feels his heart hurt as he watches your face contort to shock from his compliment. As if he just told you Santa wasn’t real. It made him realize just how much he hurt you over the last year, just how much his words of criticism and judgment dragged you down. He let go of your hand, feeling himself be overcome by shame.

At the fact that you don’t move, and stay silent, he takes the opportunity to speak his mind. “Listen… I reflected a lot after what happened yesterday, and I’m sorry. You’re right… about everything” he spoke in a low voice, not wanting the others to hear this conversation, and his tone was unwavering and honest as he spoke.

“You don’t deserve what I put you through, you’re a phenomenal part of this task force… of this family. Truth is, I admire you, soldier. And I don’t say it enough but I am proud of you and everything you’ve achieved. I took it too far yesterday.” You were still frozen, taking in all his words. It’s when he finally stays silent, waiting for your response, that you break from your daze.

“Wow… I mean… Thank you Ghost, I appreciate it” you say, but you then furrow your brows, face dropping slightly to confusion. “But if all of that is true, why did you ever push me as hard as you did? If you really thought I was doing well, why did you punish and insult me into thinking otherwise?” you couldn’t get over it, yes he apologized but what he did to you can’t just be labeled as him being ‘blindsided’.

He looked at the ground, unable to look you in the eyes as he said his next words, he knew how absurd he sounded. “The moment I met you, I knew you had great potential as a soldier, but I also knew that I wouldn’t be able to keep our relationship professional.” You tried to understand but just shook your head, still finding every word he says nonsensical.

“What the hell does that mean?” You ask and he finds the courage to look back up at you. “I liked you… from the moment I saw you out on the field, then again in training, again in the common room, I only began to admire you more each time I saw you. So I tried to make our relationship as professional as possible… at fear of getting personal. So I pushed you… further than I should have. And I’m sorry”

Now you were completely floored, you kept your voice low as people were still in the room, but your frustration is explicit in your tone. “What the fuck Ghost. That’s your excuse?! That you cared too much for me?” You scoff and turn around to walk off, before looking at him over your shoulder again to speak one last time.

“And if I’m being honest… I wanted to have a personal relationship with you. I admired the hell out of you, wanted to be in your presence every chance I got. I wanted to be close to you like everyone else… but even more, I wanted to be the person you could really rely on. I appreciate your apology, but it’s too little too late. Now our relationship is strictly professional… I’ll see you later lieutenant”

You walk off, not sparing him another glance. His confession weighing heavy on your mind, did Ghost really mean all that? The fact that he was denying you the opportunity to get close to him? You were lost… you almost wanted to cry, eyes welling up slightly. The idea that you never stood a chance because he didn’t ‘want’ to get close to you? It hurt you.

All that faded away as you spotted Soap standing at the door, leaning against the frame, waiting for you. You give him a soft smile and he smiles back. “Cmon Lass, let’s grab something to eat… just us” When you finally meet him at the door he throws his arm around your shoulder, as the two of you walk off.

But you couldn’t get what Ghost said out of your head… you did so much more than just admire him. But you and Soap had just found something… you didn’t know what it was but it was something. Ghost was too late… right?

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@koniglover @autumngraychaos