#with no casual misogyny on the side

[bklynmusicnerd]

You know I enjoy most about Andre? That is a useful man. Yes, he's easy on the eyes and interesting. But more importantly whenever he appears he actually has some useful information. We need more male characters like him and less of the useless, parasitic whiners.

[genericpuff]

yeah i don't think this is the kind of advertising rachel needs right now-

[fromtheseventhhell]

I have my criticisms regarding Rhaenyra, but my hatred for team green and their misogyny disguised as jokes makes me support her.

Real, cause they turn every critical conversation about Rhaenyra into justification for her being usurped because of her gender + her eventual murder. It's not even about the character at this point, I just refuse to be affiliated with them or their misogyny in any way, shape, or form. The way they act over a fictional character is very troubling and I wouldn't be surprised if that carries over to how they act in real life.

[leatherbookmark]

According to Ellis, women are fascinated by male strength, but they have no opinions about male beauty. Insensitive almost to the point of being blind, they have a discerning eye for male beauty not greatly different from that of the normal male. (Forbidden Colours, trans. Alfred H. Marks, Penguin edition p. 94)

oh mr mishima you would be pleasantly surprised by kpop stans. perhaps even disgusted

[slowlyfoggydestiny]

Soo it happen again huh

[lesbian-salamander]

i dont care how "corny" pokemon showdown edits are they will always be better than stupid fucking "erm... girls = sex?????" i am not going to have people try and tell me otherwise

[j-is-a-cunt]

been thinking abt misogyny and specifically how stupid but physically strong cismen use their strength to maintain places of power they don't necessarily deserve, because obviously As Men They Are Entitled To It just going off the ones i've interacted w irl, not even touching on the shit i've seen them say on other social media platforms w their whole chests...... so many just have 0 strengths that aren't "can physically intimidate/psychologically manipulate people" and are somehow proud of it because hey, at least they're not a woman, which as we all know is The worst thing a person could possibly fucking be

[yanderenightmare]

TW: dubcon, misogyny, degradation/condescension, toxic partner, gaslighting, guilt-tripping

fem reader

The first time he said you were made for him, you thought it was the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to you.

He’d said it with such unbothered air – so matter-of-factly – as if it were the most obvious thing, as though he was almost exasperated even to have to spell it out for you.

And you’d smiled, feeling warm and giddy. Lovey-dovey heart-eyes looking back at him with not a single second guess.

You should have asked him what he meant, though…

But you always brush such things off. Lying snugly against his side in bed, head resting on his chest with his muscled arm around your waist – watching a dumb movie on the laptop kept atop his abs.

“Tch- she’s just like you.” He snorts casually.

You barely hear it. And even then, it takes some time before you humor it.

But after your brain's bothered computing, you eventually pout –looking at the actress on the screen – sitting on the floor with tears streaming down her cheeks, all wet mascara streaks and tousled hair. 

She was pretty, but she looked nothing like you.

“What do you mean?” You ask after a little while – not having been able to pay attention to the rest of the plot. Too busy mulling what he’d said – trying to spin it positively as you so often do – but finding only far-fetched reasons, none of which sounded like something he'd bother say.

“What?” He mumbled. 

It had been a while since he’d made the comment – about half the movie already – so it was only fair.

“How’s she like me?”

He raised his brows – a bit of a double chin forming on his neck as he angled his head to look down at you.

“You know...” He brushed it off – redirecting his eyes back to the movie. The final climax was beginning.

You decide you can wait until the end. He’d just get annoyed if you talked through or paused the film now. 

He doesn’t spare you the same consideration, though – already with his hand casually running up your arm, coming to cup your tit.

He plays with it until the credits start rolling.

Closing the screen, he places it on the nightstand and climbs on top of you as though it were what both of you had been waiting to do.

“Uhm-” You protest – but he doesn’t take it as such, promptly dipping over to catch it with his lips – already pulling on his tight shirt, leaving your lips briefly to wring it off over his head. “Wait-” You interrupt before he’s back on you.

“What?” He breathes – nipping the corner of your mouth instead.

You hold his shoulders, trying to lift him off – but it doesn't seem like he even registers the effort – already buried in your neck with hot, open-mouthed kisses.

“You didn’t tell me what you meant earlier.” You remind him.

It takes a second before he remembers, asking, “Jeez – ‘you still thinkin’ about that?”

The kisses don’t stop. Instead, they return to try your lips again.

But you’re adamant about refusing – placing your hand over his mouth and giving him a glare – the one that tells him to listen when he isn’t – one that you have to use rather often…

He takes your hand and pins it to the pillow beneath in a finger-lock – kissing your lips despite it. “C’mon~ it’s not important.” He dismisses, words slurred with different objectives.

You slant your head to the side, and his lips meet your cheek instead. “No, really. I want to know what you meant.”

His brows furrow then – visibly getting annoyed with you – the irritation also evident in his voice. “Ugh – I’s just sayin’ you’re a little…” He leans back on his heels, where he's taken to kneel on top of you – his bulge rubbing against your mound, thick and stiff.

He scans the ceiling with his chin raised, releasing a sigh before looking back down at your face and the pouty look written across it.

He chuckles a little, grabbing the chubs of your cheeks in both hands to hold you – placing yet a kiss, now on your nose.

“I’m just sayin’ you’re cute, is all.”

He starts kissing you again – his hands hot at your sides, where he starts impatiently tugging at your top, lifting it up.

“Stop-”

You push his hands away.

This time, he sighs with rust – almost growling. “I swear – only you would make a big deal outta this.” He accuses suddenly – body sagging with his head hung. “All I meant is that you’re a little…”

Your brows furrow at his grumpy mumble. Your doubt about it being derogatory only solidifying – making your voice come out sharper.

“A little what?”

He huffs again – as though you were the one being unreasonable.

“A little hopeless at times.”

You gape. “Hopeless?”

You prop yourself up on your elbows, signaling for him to get off – but his hands squeeze your shoulders, keeping himself there. “You’re not getting’ me-”

“Apparently not.” You cut him off – still struggling to get yourself up.

But it takes only an effortless push from him to have your back thud against the mattress again.

“Say they were to make a movie about me, right?” He starts – ignoring the look you give him. “You’d play the love interest as a clueless damsel in distress. And I’d play the lead as the hero who saves you.”

You roll your eyes. “Right. Or, more realistically – you’d play an asshole, and I’d play the upset girlfriend who leaves you with blue balls.”

This time, you put your hands on his chest to push him off.

Unfortunately for you, he’s as steadfast as a mountain. 

“No, baby – come on.” He whines. Taking your wrists and sinking back down to your neck – kissing your collar with a tired groan. “You know what I mean.”

“Get off – I’m serious.” You put plainly now when everything else had failed. 

But only a sound scoff leaves him as he continues to touch – fiddling with your top again like before. “No. You’re throwing a fit.”

Your face is properly sour now – your voice, too. “I’m not a child.”

“Then quit actin’ like one, hm?” His hands squeeze your sides as he gruffs against your neck. “Face it, babe. You’re with me because you like havin’ someone capable supportin’ you.”

Your brows crinkle differently at the statement – softening just a bit – mainly because you weren’t sure whether to take offense or not. 

And before you can decide, he’s already adding to it, “Just like I like havin’ a cute, pouty, pretty little girlfriend cryin’ my name over every single silly little thing, too~” His voice went sweeter with the teasing – you felt the grin of it run against your jugular.

“You-”

“C’mon, don’t pretend.” He drawls. “You know I’m right.” 

You can’t really defend against it. After all – suppose – he was right...

“We’re perfect for each other~” He purrs groggily. Still laying wet lovebites to your neck. “You were made for me.” 

You don’t think it’s as romantic this time around – sounding more like a verdict.

Or a bitter truth.

“I like you just like this.”

BNHA – Bakugou

JJK - Gojo, Naoya

HQ - Kuro, Oikawa

AOT - Eren

DS – Sanemi

[pastanest]

Spencer Reid x she/her!reader

A/N: just a short lil blurb idea I had whilst procrastinating from finishing my other two WIP’s xoxo

warning: implied age gap of reader being a “young woman”, but no specific reference to Spencer’s age, I just envision this as a very post-prison thing for him to do

Listen

“Excuse me, lady, but you don’t get to waltz in here and start ordering my officers around. This your first day on the job or something, sweetheart?” The local chief of police smirks down at you, condescension dripping from his every word.

That, coupled with his casual misogyny, is enough to have you smirking right back at him.

Shocker, another old-fashioned cop assuming that a young woman like you doesn’t know what she’s talking about. It’s almost laughable. Almost.

“FBI Agent first, ‘lady’ second, and ‘sweetheart’? Not under any circumstances. I’m here with the rest of my team to assist you on a case that you’ve requested our help to solve. You don’t like the way we do things? Raise a formal complaint. If you want this case solved, you’ll do well to listen to the advice given. This is far from my first case, and you are far from the first police chief to invalidate that.” Your voice is the epitome of cool, calm and collected.

Naturally, that only aggravates the ignorant man in front of you. More predictable than a- well, actually, there are few things more predictable than the fragile masculinity found in a man like this.

“I’ll be happy to listen to your boss before I take any orders from a girl with a mouth bigger than it ought to be.” The local chief of police eyes you up and down, as if to intimidate you by comparing your stature to his.

Much to his surprise - and absolute dismay - his efforts are in vain. This is made clear when a quiet laugh passes your lips and you lean back against the wall, crossing your arms over your chest and looking to your left.

Moments later, as though emerging from the shadows, Doctor Spencer Reid takes the few large strides necessary to reach your side. A formidable force, exacerbated by the dark scowl that’s etched into his features and directed at the local chief of police. Having not long returned from visiting a crime scene, he had overheard the conversation between you and elected to wait before he stepped in, hypothesizing both how far the ignorance would go, and how long he would be able to hear it before seeing red.

“If you value the continued use of your jaw, I’d advise you close it and listen. Disrespect Agent (Y/N) again and this entire precinct will suffer the consequences of your ignorance.” Spencer’s threat is eerily quiet and, while unprofessional by nature, the intent is understood to the extent that even a local chief of police wouldn’t dare call it into question.

The man caught in Spencer’s glare visibly shrinks, clears his throat, and pretends to find something to very quickly busy himself elsewhere. The glare follows him until he’s out of sight.

“I could have Garcia file a report severe enough to end that man’s career.” Spencer murmurs, gaze fixed on the door that the ignorance left through.

Turning to face Spencer, you smile up at him sweetly and pat his chest, your palm against his tie when the contact snaps his eyes back down to look at you.

“I think making him ruin his briefs in the workplace is punishment enough.” You joke lightly, your words enough to cause a smile to curl at the corner of Spencer’s mouth, a silent understanding caught in your locked gazes.

Nobody disrespects you and gets away with it, not so long as Doctor Spencer Reid is around to commit verbal homicide.

[deathbecomesthem]

Basement Apartment Part 2/2

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader - 6.6K

+18 ONLY - Minors DNI

Summary - It's 2001, and you've just moved into this new basement apartment. It's not so bad, except for the neighbor directly above your bedroom.

Contains a mean reader (kinda). There is smut within Eddie is submissive here, but there isn't really any kind of actual dom/sub dynamic. This is kind of an enemies to lovers deal. Sorta. Alcohol. Use of derogatory language against Eddie.

Part 1

A/N: Thank you @jo-harrington for loving this story, and thank you for editing this at a moment's notice. Love you forever.

The alley is dark with only a singular halo of light illuminated by the light perched over the oversized metal door through which you and Jeannie just exited. There’s a rusty pipe just outside of the circle of light dripping into a small puddle of trash water next to an open dumpster. Cigarette butts litter the ground like the memories of past alleyway encounters to which you and Jeannie will add your own.

“You really are the hottest girl I’ve seen around here in a long time.” Jeannie’s smile is sweet, one of a Chesire cat grin. She’s eyeing you up and down in appreciation. “Maybe that’s just because I get to see you put Ed in his place for once.” You cough out a laugh because it is fun to put that boy in his place.  “Don’t get me wrong, he’s actually a great guy, just a cocky bastard when someone gets his dick hard.”

“Yeah, well, sounds like most of the guys I’ve dealt with,” you exhale the words along with a mournful sigh. You think about the casual misogyny that impacts every aspect of your daily life and frown at the thought. Just another man that looks at you like a prize, something they can win. Something they deserve.

“Nah, Ed really is a good guy. Not your typical asshole. Don’t let him fool you.” Eyebrows cocked, you take in the cheeky smile on Jeannie’s face. Guess I’m not getting any pussy tonight.

“I take it this” you move your hand between yourself and Jeannie “is not happening, eh?”

“Can’t do it, pretty. Not when you dance with me, and eye fuck a guy. No hard feelings.” No, no hard feelings. Not for Jeannie, anyway. No, you’re a stupid bisexual mess, and that’s not her fault.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe I cock blocked myself.” This has you both laughing. “I’m sorry, that was bad behavior. You’re being too nice about it.”

“Nah, it’s cool.” Jeannie rubs out her cigarette and wiggles her fingers at you in a goodbye as she turns and heads back into work. She stops at the door and adds, “He’s not a bad guy. He’s really not,” and the door is closing, leaving you alone in that circle of light to listen to the water drip, drip, drip while the filter of your cigarette starts to burn.

You hear faint laughter and watch a couple walking by, arms wrapped around each other. You step to the side, hiding in the shadow so you can watch them without being seen. You let out a little groan and stomp your foot in frustration. 

“Fuck this.” You’re done, ready to go home and find a bottle in the cabinet. You consider going to 2A to see if Mary and Steve were around, but you couldn’t bear the idea of cock blocking Mary too. It was pissing you off that this guy was in your head. It was pissing you off that you wanted him.

The short walk home is not enough. Just as your apartment building appears in the distance, you detour through an empty parking lot. This is a spot you’ve never explored, an elementary school with 4 square lines spray painted in the pavement, rusty basketball hoops, monkey bars, and 3 swings lined up in a row. One of the swings has been tossed over the top of the poles a few times, it sits higher than the other two. The moon is out, the air is calm, and you don’t mind the slight bite of cold through your thin pantyhose. You swing.

At first, it’s a gentle movement, but muscle memory takes over. You find yourself pumping your arms and legs, gaining momentum. Higher, higher, and higher still. You let your laughter erupt in the open air. Your breath fans out in a cloud around your face. You feel clean and free for a moment. You are laughing and swinging for what feels like hours, until something draws your attention.

A jingling sound can be heard at the side of the building, near the old basketball court. Someone is walking a dog, maybe? Your senses are heightened at the perceived possible threat, dragging your feet on the soft earth beneath the swing, you open the snap at the top of your purse. Then you see what is approaching, sauntering, towards you. A huff of aggravation leaves your mouth.

“You come here often?” The line is so ridiculously delivered, a faux husky voice, it earns Eddie a small laugh, and you can see his back straighten with pride. “Shouldn’t you be sitting at the bar waiting for Jeannie to get off work?”

“Did you put a tracking device on me somewhere? For fuck’s sake, give a girl a break.” His head is wobbling back and forth, as if to say, yeah, sorry. His long legs squat deeply to allow himself to rest on the swing to your right. You can’t help but giggle, the sight is endearing if not completely annoying.

“I heard someone laughing while I was on my way home. I had no idea I’d find you out here. I was intrigued, what can I say?” What can you say? Nothing. So, you don’t. You toe the dirt for a moment and begin pumping your arms and legs in earnest. Let him see your laughter. What harm could it do?

Eyes are on you as you reach the sky. Your hair whips from in front of your face to back behind your head. The laughter comes, the boy still watching and kicking the dirt. And then he says, “Wanna hear a joke?” And how could you not? You let out a loud, “Yeah” on your down swing.

“What do you do when your wife starts smoking?”

“What do you do?” You ask with genuine curiosity.

“Use some lube.” 

You snort a laugh at the ridiculous joke. You drag your feet, a giggle still in your mouth. And you look at Eddie. God, he’s so beautiful it takes your breath away.

“That was an awful joke. Tell me another.” Now he’s swinging while you watch him. His legs are too long to kick back fully and get any real height, but he’s still going for it. He’s letting out a “Hmmmm” in thought while he thinks of another joke. You aren’t fooled, you know this guy has a whole arsenal in that brain of his.

“What do you call someone who refuses to fart in public?” He hasn’t even gotten to the punch line, and you're giddy enough to giggle already.

“What?” He stops hard, feet planted in the dirt to deliver his punch line.

“A private tutor.”

You can’t help it, you’re laughing like a flirtatious teenager, “You idiot.” You go to swat his arm, and he’s fast. He grabs it before it hits its mark. His fingers interlace with your own, and he lets your arms drop between you. Holding hands, arms formed in a V at this little school playground. It’s so tender you could puke.

“I’m sorry.” A long finger is rubbing along your knuckles while you listen to his soft voice, “I’m such an asshole. To be fair, that usually works for me.” His eyebrows are cocked at you, and his small smile is barely visible in the moonlight. He seems small and sweet in this moment, and you feel warmth spreading through your chest at the sight of him.

“Yeah, well, I was just about ready to hate fuck the attitude out of you.” He drops your hand and dramatically grabs his chest.

“Hold on, let me just get in the right mind frame.” He stands up and shakes his arms at his side to limber up and clears his throat. His long arms grab the metal chain of your swing, and he leans into your space. A low seductive voice reverberates through his chest as he says, “Baby, your boobs remind me of Mt. Rushmore. My face should be among them.”

Your laughter is a release of tension. You’re in hysterics. It’s the only thing to describe your reaction to this fucking nerd putting on this ridiculous show. There are tears in the corner of your eyes until you catch sight of Eddie’s face. He’s watching you, the moonlight creating a halo around his stupid head with a wide smile that beams with pride.

“I would do anything to hear that laugh.” When you let out a groan of protest, his hand waves it away, “I’m serious. It’s what drew me back here. You have the sweetest laugh I’ve ever heard.”

You grab a fistful of his shirt and pull him down to your eye level. Right as your noses brushes against his and you’re angling your mouth towards him he whispers, “I’d love to hear what other pretty noises you make.”

Hand flattened, you give him a shove. “You’re such an asshole, Eddie.”

“Oh, come on, I was joking.” You’re up and heading back to your building, annoyed with yourself more than him. “Please stop. I’m sorry.” Wheeling around to face him, he stops abruptly with his hands raised in surrender. You have your hands propped against your hips. You bend down and unlace your boots and toe them off. You’ve lost a couple of inches, but Eddie still seems completely intimidated. He inches his way towards you, as if approaching a rabid dog, and he reaches down to pick up your discarded boots to carry for you.

“Let me walk you home, hmm? Are you hungry? I picked up some perch at the fish market yesterday.”

“I’m sorry, are you offering to make me dinner at,” you look at your watch and scoff, “1:30 in the morning?”

“Uh, yeah. To be fair, I was planning to make myself dinner anyway, but why not. It’s obvious neither of us is getting laid tonight.” Too true. Neither of you were getting laid, which made you wonder…

“Why aren’t you getting laid tonight? You been in a dry spell lately? I saw plenty of pretty bimbos making googly eyes at you earlier.”

“Yeah, true.” He sighs dramatically, “I think I’ve had my fill of bimbos for a while, ya know? Plus, I think I was getting a slutty reputation around the building.”

“Pffffttt, come on.”

“I’m serious, I was more than a little embarrassed to have the hottest chick I’ve ever seen call me an asshole and a slut to my face.” Well, you are a slut. “And I know what you’re thinking, you were just calling it like you saw it, but is it a crime to have a good time, Sweetheart? I didn’t know everyone in the apartment building could hear me.”

There’s a tinge of something, guilt, in the back of your mind. You never told him about the vent. The vent that certainly can’t be legal. The vent that creates a direct opening between your rooms. Yeah, he’s a loud ass, but you probably wouldn’t hear most of what he’s doing in the privacy of his own room if it wasn’t for that fucking vent.

“Not everyone in the building.” You admit, sheepishly. A pause, a gentle hand on your shoulder, an eyebrow raised in question. “So, there’s this vent I discovered. It’s basically just wide-open space between our rooms.”

His eyes are moving side to side as if he’s trying to understand, trying to see it in his mind. “A vent? Why is there a ductwork that goes from one room to another room like that?” And you think for a moment you might get away with your bad behavior, because maybe he’ll focus on the design flaw instead of the fact that you blamed him for something out of his control.

“Wait. Are you telling me that you’ve been ragingly pissed off at me for something that isn’t my fault?” You wave your hand a little bit. Because, yeah, that’s pretty much true.

“Sort of. I mean, you’re still a cocky asshole that doesn’t consider his neighbors when he’s got his dick up.” His arms go up in frustration. “No, you’re right, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have decided to be mean right off the bat.”

Eddie’s still gripping your boots while your feet are walking on the freezing cold sidewalk with nothing but pantyhose between you and the night. The chill is finally starting to get to you, the booze having worn off completely. Your building isn’t too far, about a block away, and your teeth start to chatter a bit. You’re trying to hide it, not wanting to seem too vulnerable, too weak in this moment, but he’s observant. He swings off his leather jacket, leaving himself in just his cropped t-shirt, and wraps it around your shoulders. It smells like cigarettes, worn leather, and Old Spice. You could scream at how comforting it all is. How safe and cared for you feel. Instead, you try to satisfy your curiosity.

“So, tell me, Eddie, what do you do for a living?” You ask, hating the way the question sounds coming out of your mouth. Boring chit chat that doesn’t fit the already too intimate understanding the two of you have with each other. 

“Besides playing metal for free booze at the downtown bars? Take a guess.” Oof, if you had to guess, you’d have no idea. Tattoo artist? That’s plausible. Cook? Could be. Mechanic, plumber, electrician? How annoying to not know and how annoying to have him play coy about it.

“Oh, I don’t know. Can’t you just fucking tell me?” His head is thrown back in a laugh. He really enjoys needling you. He likes pissing you off, at least just a little.

“God, you’re so impatient. If you must know, I work with kids. Believe it or not, I’m a counselor for at-risk youth.” You can’t hide the shock on your face. There is no way you would have ever been able to guess that this guy worked with kids. Is a counselor. You’ve done work for family attorneys in the past, and you know what some of these kids go through. You imagine him holding the hands of kids going through the horrors of life. A lump begins to form at the base of your throat.

“Are you joking?” You practically choke out the words. It’s a rude question and you have no excuse for it other than the fact that it’s exactly what crosses your mind.

“Not joking. I had a rough time when I was younger. I barely got out of high school alive. Steve started going to a community college back home, and I decided to go for it with him. I spent 6 years getting a 4-year degree while flipping burgers.” 

Your mind is so blown you can’t do anything but stutter, “You’re a fucking saint? That’s actually kind of annoying.” You nudge Eddie with your shoulder affectionately. “Aren’t you going to ask me what I do for a living?” He nudges you back, affectionately.

“I know what you do. Mary told me. You’re an assistant for a lawyer with the aspiration to go to law school. And, you’re very likely going to do it and be a huge success because you’re a genius and you work harder than anyone she’s ever met.” Bless Mary, what a sweetheart. You can see her saying this to him, verbatim. She’s your biggest cheerleader. “It’s why I haven’t been having any overnight guests. You seriously had me feeling like the biggest dick in the world, you know.”

Ascending your steps to the front door of your building, you stop and look at Eddie. He’s a step below you, and still taller than eye level. “Why did you come on so strong with me? Why not just” you’re flapping your hand around looking for the right thing to say, “be normal with me?”

“I’m naturally flirtatious.” A roll of the eyes has him breathing through his nose, “Fine. you’re hot when you’re angry. Like, it’s insane. And, you know, most people find me charming.”

Yes. You could see it. He is charming. And sweet. Jeannie is right, he’s not a bad guy, he’s a really good guy, in fact. You reach your hand out to touch his curls, you’ve been thinking about how soft they would feel between your fingers since the first time saw him. Yes, they are soft. Oh, his hand is cupping your cheek, and you’re leaning your head into it. His skin is so warm despite the cold.

“God, you’re so beautiful, I could cry.” The words are out before you can stop them, and maybe you don’t want to. Maybe he needs to know what is true about him in your eyes. That he is beautiful, and that you want him, even more now that he’s let you see who he really is.

He releases a slow exhale at your words, and you can see a flush creeping up his neck. You are charmed. Before a protest can be made, you let your mouth meet his. You let yourself taste him, breathe him in. And he is sweet. A light kiss, and his breath is fanning over your face.

He pulls back to look into your eyes and says, “I think you might have something in your eyes.” You furrow your brows a little while he inspects them, “No, sorry, just a sparkle.” He’s breathing out a laugh at his own terrible pick up line, and you hate him.

“I hate you.” You say the words without conviction, and this time, his mouth meets your own with a firm kiss. A tongue snaking across your bottom lip in a plea for entry, and you grant it. This is bliss. His arms are holding you at your hips while yours find his neck. Like teenagers at your parents’ doorstep not wanting the night to end. This goes on until he feels you trembling and remembers that you could be doing this inside. Where there’s heat and comfort.

“Wouldst thou allow me the honor of walking thee to thine door this fine evening, M’lady?” He asks, and you realize that this guy that has  fucked every woman in the tri-state area is an actual nerd. A goofy bastard.

“Thank you, kind sir. I hate to be out on these streets alone.” You bat your eyelashes and he lets out a little groan of pain. You relish in that groan, an indication that you have the upperhand with this man. You do have him wrapped around your little finger. Not only could you make him putty in your hands, you are doing it by just existing within his space. 

As you head to the stairs, you feel Eddie’s warm fingers tangling themselves with your own, and that feeling of being a kid hits you again. It’s been so long since you’ve felt this kind of zinging tingle from such a simple gesture. Will he be careful with me? A bit of doubt begins to prickle at the back of your mind.

“So.” You’re standing with your back against your door, head tilted up to Eddie while he’s leaning his arm above you and bending into your space. “Did you want to come in, or…” Lips are on you. His soft mouth, so warm and inviting, and your tongues are dancing. It is divine. It is perfection. Until. Until. Until. “Wait.”

When your eyes focus on his face, there is concern. Not anger at being told to wait. Not frustration at your hand holding him away from you. Just brows knit together in distress for you. 

“Are you ok, Sweetheart. I’m sorry if I did something wrong.” His knuckles brush against your cheek, and then he takes a small step back to allow you a little distance.

“No, Eddie, you’ve done nothing wrong.” You’ve turned around at this point, and you’re fumbling for your keys. They rattle as they hit the linoleum at your feet. Curses are being muttered under your breath while you try to recover.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Eddie’s big brown eyes are still so full of concern, you could cry. You want nothing more than to bring him into your home, into your bed, and just let go. It would be one thing if there weren’t these feelings brewing inside of you. It wasn’t what you planned. No, you want his mouth all over you, a tender embrace. The last time you had those things, you got burned. You’ve learned about playing with fire, and you just don’t do it anymore.

“I’m sorry, Eddie.” You let out a little shocked noise at your stupid self, “you really are beautiful and sexy. And you’re a good person to boot.” Your head is shaking at him, because these are not things you’ve been looking for.

“Um, thanks? Why is that bad?” His tenderness is too much for you, and you feel yourself wanting to give in. His hand is gently brushing your hair away from your face, and he’s tilting his head to try to see you better.

“Because, I like you, and that’s not something I can deal with. I’m not looking to feel anything other than mutual physical satisfaction. With anyone.” You throw your hand out to emphasize your point. Nope. Not looking for a boyfriend. And that’s what this motherfucker is, he’s a goddamn boyfriend if you’ve ever seen one.

“Uh, well, I say that’s too fucking bad, Sweetheart. The feelings are mutual, and if you don’t want to hang out with me because we’re super compatible, that’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard.” The smile he’s wearing barely masks his frustration. He’s looking like the cocky shit you first met. Arms spread open to present himself to you. “Fucking fine, I’ll leave you alone. Give me my jacket back.”

You shrug it off and hand it over, already missing the warmth. You feel so small right now, and so angry at yourself. He’s right, it is stupid. “I’m sorry, Eddie. I don’t think I could fuck you and have it be just casual. I can’t have you living above me, hearing you and whoever else. It would be one thing if we didn’t live in the same building, but I’d rather not even go there right now. There’s no way this wouldn’t end up being a complete shit show.”

He spins on his heel and takes the stairs two at a time, leaving you standing alone under the glow of the fluorescent lights that illuminate the hall. When you finally enter the apartment, tears are stinging at the corners of your eyes. What is your fucking problem? You don’t even notice that Mary and Steve are sitting on the couch watching a movie.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Mary is scrambling out of the embrace she was sharing with Steve. “I heard you shouting with, uh, someone in the hallway.”

“With Ed, it was definitely Ed.” Steve says nonchalantly, as if saying his name wouldn’t drive a dagger through your heart.

“Thanks for that, Steve.” Mary’s annoyed face is completely unconvincing. To be fair, how could anyone be annoyed with Steve? He’s so precious.

“I just,” You sigh and try to find something to say to get her to leave you alone, “I hung out with him a little bit tonight, and I can’t do this right now. It would be one thing if it was just sex, but he’s so fucking perfect.” Mary knows. She’ll support you. She knows how hard you took it the last time you tried to do the feeling thing with someone. She will hug you and tell you that you’re doing the right thing.

She is staring at you with incredulity. Flabbergasted. Bemused. Dumbfounded. Absolutely flummoxed. “You’re fucking stupid.”

Steve lets out a little laugh through his nose and clears his throat to cover the sound. You and Mary both shoot eye daggers in his direction and he just gives you both a little shrug. “You know, Eddie hasn’t stopped talking about how much he wants to get to know you. You have him so wound up, it’s ridiculous.”

“Oh, come on. I’ve done nothing but be a complete bitch to him.”

“Yeah, and Mary here has told him how amazing you are. He’s always like this. He loves when someone is willing to put him in his place.” Your head is spinning at the thought. Putting him in his place. “Plus, Mary told him that you want to be a lawyer and work with legal aid. He’s ready to go out and buy a ring.”

“Shut up, Steve, you’re freaking her out.” Mary turns back to you and grabs your hand. “Just answer this question for me, and I’ll leave you alone.” Her eyebrows are raised, and you nod in answer, “If you’re already hurting your own feelings by not allowing yourself the chance to spend time with Eddie, what’s the harm in seeing what might be there before you crush it?”

You roll your eyes and wave, “Good night, guys. Be safe.” You hate that everyone is right. Fuck this. You’re going to bed.

Emotionally exhausted, you find sleep easy to find. As you drift, through the sound of your fan blowing gently on your night stand, you hear something that is bringing you back into the waking world. It’s soft, so quiet. Is that? It’s music.

It’s a song you recognize, anyone would, but it’s so much more mournful than it should be. Soft and gentle strumming. Mary’s words are hounding you while you hear Eddie singing, through that fucking vent, I Want To Hold Your Hand. You’re so pissed off, there’s nothing you can do but throw your legs over the edge of your bed and stomp out of your room. Down the hall. To the living room where Steve and Mary are sleeping. Out your apartment door. Up the stairs. All while still in your tiny sleep shorts and tank top, the breeze of the front door to the building leaving your skin covered in goose flesh.

*knock, knock, knock* Come on, I know you’re awake. A little louder *knock, knock, knock*, and you hear him grumbling behind the door. “You’ve got to stop forgetting your keys man, it’s like 3 in the morning. The door swings open, and he sees you.

“Hi.” His eyes widen, “Oh shit, I’m sorry. Was I too loud?” Yes. Too loud. Too pretty. Too kind. Too sexy. Too everything.

You push your way past him and into his apartment, back into his bedroom. He’s following you, still confused, huffing at you. Until you stop to face him outside of his bedroom door. A finger firmly pointed at his chest.

“One of two things needs to happen tomorrow.” He’s looking from your finger to your face, trying to understand what’s going on, “Either we get the landlord down here to fix this vent issue, or you and Steve switch rooms.”

“Uh, ok. Yeah, that’s fine.” Your finger moves up to the fringe of his hair, letting it dance along his forehead. “Sweetheart, do you have something else in mind to talk about?” You shake your head at him, eyes still focused on his, absolutely mesmerized by him.

“I want you, Eddie, if you’ll have me. Even if it’s just for tonight. How does that sound to you?” Eddie’s lip curls up and throws his arms around your waist to lift you off the ground in a bear hug. Your fist pound his chest in protest while giggles are erupting out of you. Without putting you down, he kicks his door open and walks you over to his bed.

“Oh, Sweetheart, this is gonna be so fun.” Your mouths are mingling gently, with need and passion, but so sweetly. His big hands grip your torso and toss you onto his messy bed. He’s climbing over you while you crook your finger to draw him closer to you. Close enough for you to-

“Jesus, woman.” -wrap your legs around his waist and flip him onto his back. You wiggle your finger at him in a “no-no” gesture when he tries to push himself back up.

“Let me make you feel good, Baby. You’re so pretty, I just wanna play for a while.” A pathetic whine leaves his mouth at your words. You know these are probably words he’s used on countless women over the years. You mean it, too. You want to open him up and see his heart beating in his chest. You want to see his lungs expand and expel his breath. You want to explore the expanse of his chest with the tip of your nose. Your tongue. You want to see the freckles that are hidden from his own gaze and take the time to appreciate each of them.

“Let’s come to an agreement, Baby. If you tell me no, ask me to stop, or in any way sound like you’re anything more than enthusiastic about what I’m doing, I’ll stop. Ok?” Eddie nods enthusiatically. “The only other thing I’m going to ask is that you don’t touch me until I tell you it’s ok. You can ask if you really need it.” He’s nodding again, and you give a curt head shake, “Tell me if this is ok, please.” You’re sitting with your legs slung over his chest, and a hand cupping his cheek. You need to see what his face and words are telling you.

“Yes, please.” He’s nodding, and then a little wolfish grin crosses his pretty lips. “That all sounds good for now. We can talk about a switch up for the next time.” You scoff in answer, but you can’t deny the throb you feel at his words. Maybe you could see yourself relinquishing some control with him.

No more words for now, Eddie is on his best behavior as he watches you with keen, shining eyes. You waste no time and peel his shirt off, showing you that chest you wanted to mark up. Before even touching him with your hands, you lick a stripe from the line of hair below his belly button, up his stomach, over his chest, and to his neck where you begin sucking behind his ear. His responding groan is music to your ears.

Before long he’s laid out for you, completely nude, hard as a rock and moaning while you tease him with gentle strokes and words of praise. He is so good for you, so beautiful with the purpling marks on his chest and thighs. And quiet, he’s being so quiet for you.

“Baby, you’re such a good boy for me. Tell me what you want me to do.” You give his slit a little kitten li k and his eyes roll back but his hands are still firmly planted and gripping the sheets below him. “Wanna see how far I can get your cock in my throat? It’s pretty big, Baby, I don’t know if I can handle it.” You’re pouting at him, giving him your sweet big eyes, batting your lashes at him.

His response is high pitched, sounding almost painful, “Sweetheart, I want you to suck my cock, but god, can I touch you, please.” Aw, it’s only been 30 minutes.

“Oh, Baby, I was just getting started.” Your hand moves down his shaft to the soft sac at the base of his cock. As he’s watching you, you take two of your fingers into your mouth and let your saliva coat them. His own mouth is moving in sync with your own, tasting the ghost of your fingers. You bring your hand down to the spot below his sac where it’s so sensitive and press firmly. His cock jumps and arousal leaks down to the thatch of hair at the base.

“Oh my god, I need to touch you. Please, please, please, let me touch you.” His whining cry, and the tear gliding down his cheek have you feeling weak.

You work your shorts off, finally exposing yourself to him. His hands are still pinned to the bed while you hover your sticky center over him. You sit on his stomach and rock yourself, not quite touching the head of his cock with your ass. His head is thrown back in concentration when you finally tell him, “You can touch me, Baby.”

His eyes shoot open, and his hands find your hips. Without a word, he has you on your back. “You gonna let me make you feel good, Sweetheart?” He’s wild, he looks like he wants to devour you, and you’re ready to let him do anything in this moment.

“Please, Eddie, anything you want.” His eyes are still wet from the edging. You’re running your finger along the purple marks you left on his chest, and he’s gone. You feel him ripping your shirt over your head and he’s throwing it out into the room.

He’s not gentle, and you’re not surprised. He’s not used to being teased like this. Your legs are spread wide, and his big hands pull you down into his waiting face. Immediately, he gets to work, he’s laid flat against the bed, his erection finally getting some friction while his tongue gets to taste you. It’s broad stripes along your slit with tiny kitten licks when he reaches your nub. Over and over and over. The movements are calculated. You’re watching him and he’s watching you. It’s when you start to rock your hips up to meet his mouth that he latches on to your clit with ferocity.

*bang* you’re writhing in pleasure. The feel of his mouth has you shaking uncontrollably, your moans get higher and higher until every muscle in your body is tense and you feel your center releasing. Eddie is practically growling as he laps up your arousal until your hands thread through his hair and you’re pulling him up to you.

“I need you inside me. I need it, Baby. Please.” Eddie is calming you down with a gentle shushing. His hands have found your face, and he kisses away the tears you didn’t know you had shed.

“I’m here, Sweetheart.” Kissing him now, with your taste on his tongue, you want it to last forever. You wrap your legs around his waist, hooking your ankles around him, pleading with your eyes. He leaves a kiss on your temple as he reaches for the small box on the nightstand. You watch, your body still boneless as he glides the condom down his length. You can’t remember the last time you had a man in this position. His body flush with your own, covering you, his face in your neck. Every inch of him makes your body hitch in excitement until you are completely full. You and Eddie are both open mouthed, and making silent noises until he moves. You’re meeting every thrust with your hips.

Moving in tandem, hard and fast, you know it won’t be long. Every thrust is hitting your most sensitive spot inside, while the hair at the base of his shaft tickles your clit. His breath on your neck, the whimpers and moans in your ear. It all feels so unbelievably good. You’re wound tightly again, already, sweat is collecting between your breasts that are pushed against Eddie’s chest.

“Oh, Baby, you’re fucking me so good. I’m gonna cum.” His reaction is to speed up even more, pounding you brainless. Only static and pleasure. That’s all that’s left of you as he uses you.

“Fucking cum with me.” The orgasm rips through you, and you’re screaming. If you had a brain to think with, you’d realize that if you were in your own room the sounds would be louder than any you’ve heard before. You can feel his thrust turning into a gentle rocking as he empties himself. And then, you’re both still, breathing into each other’s necks.

You lay together for a while, until you start to feel like you’re being suffocated. “Eddie, get off of me.” You reach down and give his ass a little slap. You think he might have drifted off to sleep while still inside of you.

He rolls over with a deep groan. You know you’ve worn him out, he looks exhausted. “Oh, Baby, I’ll be right back.”

You head to the bathroom and wash yourself. You count it as lucky that your apartments are identical, and guess that you could find some washcloths in the linen closet. When you reenter Eddie’s room, he hasn’t moved an inch. You remove the condom and clean him off while he makes little noises. You find his boxers and guide them up over his slender hips. After you find your own underwear, you climb into bed and cozy up into his chest.

“Sweetheart?” His voice is full of sleep and barely whispered. You hum back to him. “Can I keep you? Will you be mine?”

“Yes, Eddie.”

tagging: @missmarch-99 @powderblueblood @thornsnvultures @corrodedcorpses @munsonburn3r

@definitionwanderlust @mopeymopeymouse

[hollyseb]

I DO

Mob! Bucky x Reader - Forced Marriage AU

Warnings: swearing, violence, misogyny?, sexual content (MINORS DNI)

3.2k words

Summary; Bucky, a member of the mob, and the daughter of his enemy find themselves entangled in a complex relationship.

No fucking way.

Your throat tightened. The reflection in the mirror portrayed a stranger—pale complexion, vacant eyes.

“You look beautiful,” Nat reassured you, placing her steady hands on your bare shoulders, but you’d never felt so appalled. She was trying to comfort you but fell on deaf ears.

Your gaze dropped to the dress. It fits you perfectly, especially with your hair trailing down your back.

You wanted to rip it all off.

“Nat”, your voice meek, tears threatening to fall.

"I'll be by your side through it all, and if that mystery man dares to step out of line, well, a broken nose wouldn't hurt," she attempted a smile, but it faltered. Your best friend gave your shoulders a final squeeze.

Today is your wedding day.

As you found out yesterday. Yesterday. You seethed, manicured hands clenching.

“How could this happen to me, Nat?”, you asked through gritted teeth, the reality of the situation setting in.

Nat's gaze softened, her eyes filled with a sadness you couldn't bear to meet. "We both know why," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, the truth of her words like a knife to your heart. Your father's illicit dealings had finally caught up with you, dragging you into a web of deceit and manipulation from which there seemed to be no escape.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. How could I be so naive?

And so, you became a pawn in your father’s game. An object to be bought, owned and sold off at will.

It was all a show of power. You cross me, and I’ll rob your daughter of the rest of her life. You were nothing more than collateral damage.

———————————

As Bucky adjusted his tie in the mirror, the reflection staring back at him was that of a man with a steely resolve, a predator poised to strike. His jaw clenched with determination, his eyes burning with a fierce intensity.

���One last drink before you’re hitched?” Steve smirked, pushing a whiskey into his best friend's hand.

Bucky sent him a sharp look. “Come on Steve, you act like I'm not the one calling the shots here”, the glint in his eyes portraying a confidence that bordered on arrogance.

In a swift motion, he downed the alcohol and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His throat burned. He lavished the feeling.

“Marrying a woman you’ve never even seen?” Steve's grin widened, his tone holding a hint of scepticism.

Bucky dragged a hand down his face. “All part of the game, my friend” he responded cryptically, a flicker of anticipation glimmering in his eyes.

“You never know, pal, she might be a knockout”, Steve teased, a veiled reassurance towards his friend.

”Yeah. Fat fucking chance, as long as Pierce knows I can take everything he holds dear, I’m a happy man”

With a nod of agreement, Steve raised his glass in a silent salute. "I'll drink to that," he said.

———————

Deep breaths.

You felt nauseous.

You stepped into the aisle, honing your vision on the figure standing by the altar. He had his back to you but, he was tall, broad and masculine.

Ripping your eyes from the man and planting them on your feet. Just make it down the aisle without tipping over.

Bucky turned to face you. Holy shit. His surprise was palpable. He wasn’t expecting this. You knocked the breath from his lungs. You looked beautiful. Your dress moulded perfectly to your body, skin glowing. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

You felt a cool hand press against the small of your back.

“Hey”, a deep voice whispered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

A response far too casual for the situation at hand.

His hand moved to your waist, guiding you to face him and look at him. Fuck him. You knew this was a stupid, stubborn attempt to maintain some form of control, but you couldn’t stop yourself.

That was until he placed a finger under your chin, his touch surprisingly gentle. Oh. He is gorgeous. Sculpted face, baby blue eyes, pink lips. His touch was far too gentle for someone so evil.

“H-hi”, you stammered, your voice portraying the nervousness you felt.

Bucky’s smirk only widened at your response, as if he found amusement in your discomfort. It was infuriating. He was drinking in your wide eyes and aloof expression. You were so innocent. He almost felt bad for inviting you into his world. Almost.

He wanted to devour you.

”Well…aren’t you a sweet little thing”, his finger tilted your head back as he unashamedly raked his eyes over your features, with an almost predatory hunger.

You forced a sweet smile, concealing the disgust you felt at his patronising comment, “get your fucking hands off of me”, you retorted sharply.

Bucky’s smirk faltered for a moment, a flicker of surprise crossing his features, before being replaced by amusement again. “Such a filthy mouth for a pretty girl… I’ll sort that out for you”, he replied, his grip on your chin tightening.

You snarled at him, resisting the urge to clock him in his cocky face.

It was almost humorous, the way the interaction looked like a loving husband whispering sweet nothings to his wife, when it couldn’t be further from the truth.

The vows went by in a blur, all words sounding muted and unreal, until the time came to kiss the man you met half an hour ago.

Bucky couldn’t look anymore gleeful, revelling in your discomfort.

“Come on honey, I promise I’m a fantastic kisser”, he taunted, arrogance in his smirk.

You opened your mouth for a retort, but his lips landed on yours before you could protest. You hated how he was so gentle, caressing your cheek while his tongue ran across your bottom lip.

Damn it, he is a fantastic kisser.

Pulling away, you forced yourself to compose, concealing the turmoil within. He was so gentle, as if he was afraid you’d break in two at his kiss. Bucky’s touch held a power over you. You despised it, but it was overwhelming.

The reception blurred into a whirlwind of congratulatory embraces and forced smiles. Every glance from Bucky sent shivers down your spine. He was everywhere. A hand on the small of your back, an arm draped across your waist.

As the night wore on, you found yourself cornered by Bucky, his presence suffocating. His whispered promises of a future together sounded more like threats, each word tightening the knot of discomfort in your stomach.

“Is it time for that broken nose yet?” Nat whispered into your ear as you snorted at her comment, your first genuine smile all day.

“I’m ready whenever you are”, you replied, before taking her into an embrace. Her presence was a lifeline in the chaos of this ceremony.

Even after your moment of solace with Nat, Bucky's presence loomed like a dark cloud. His eyes followed your every move, logging everybody you spoke to, as he watched with an adverse gaze.

Unable to bear his suffocating presence any longer, you slipped away from the crowd, seeking refuge in the quiet solitude of the garden.

The cool night air enveloped you, offering a brief respite from the whirlwind wedding. Sitting on the wooden bench, you closed your eyes, simply focusing on breathing, before being unsurprisingly interrupted.

With a smirk playing at the corners of his lips, Bucky leaned against the stone wall, the faint glow of a cigarette illuminating his features in the darkness.

"You shouldn't be out here alone," he said, his voice low and gravelly, tinged with a hint of his streetwise charm.

"Yeah? Well, I’m fine," you replied curtly, refusing to show any vulnerability in his presence.

Bucky's smirk widened, the glint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Sure you are," he said, his tone teasing. "But just in case you need a hand getting rid of any unwanted guests, you know what to say."

“Nobody’s watching here, you know? You don’t need to keep up this facade”, you replied, more angrily than you’d expected.

Bucky’s expression darkened at your accusation, a flicker of hurt crossing his features. “Facade? Come on, darlin’ you know me better than that”

”Do I?”, your voice echoed, not ready to submit to him.

He took a step closer, his movements fluid and deliberate. "Yeah, you do," he replied, his tone edgier now, devoid of its earlier teasing edge. "You think I’m doing this all for me?"

You found yourself unable to make eye contact with the mobster, “I think this is a game… where I’m being used as a pawn”, you confessed, a sadness in your voice.

Bucky was taken aback by your raw vulnerability. He lifted your chin with his forefinger, as he did in the ceremony, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes were a cocktail of remorse and sincerity.

“A game? I won’t lie, doll, I’ve done things that I’m not proud of”, he swallowed hard, grappling with the actions that had led to this moment, “but I wouldn’t drag you into this twisted world simply to be a pawn”.

You fought internally, unsure of what to believe.

Bucky stepped back slightly, his eyes raking over your features as his finger drew an arc over your jaw. "I know this ain't the ideal situation for either of us," he began, his voice softer now, tinged with a hint of regret. "But we're in this together now."

Your features softened and you let yourself relax into his gentle touch. The voice in your head stressing about how dangerous this man was began to quieten. You needed this comfort.

"I want you to know," Bucky continued, his words measured yet genuine, "that I ain't gonna let anyone hurt you. Not while I'm around."

"Thank you," you murmured, the weight of the day's events finally beginning to lift from your shoulders. "I appreciate that."

Bucky offered you a small, understanding smile before gesturing toward the door leading back to the reception hall. "Come on," he said gently, "let's get back inside.”

Bucky flicked his cigarette into the darkness, the ember glowing brightly before fading into nothingness.

As the night wore on, the exhaustion of the day's events began to weigh heavily on you.

“You ready to call it a night?” Bucky asked, sweeping a stray hair behind your ear.

His eyes were fixated on yours until you replied with a simple nod.

You began saying your farewells to the guests, making sure to hug Nat especially hard. You eyed Bucky as he seemed to be having an enthralling conversation with a man you recalled being introduced to as Steve. You made a mental note to ask him about his friend.

You let Bucky guide you into his mansion, down the large halls, to the bridal suite. Everything was gorgeous, sophisticated and modern.

You hadn’t let your mind trail to what your wedding night would bring, you found yourself wondering whether he’d even stay in the same wing as you.

As you and Bucky stepped into the dimly lit room, the air was hot with anticipation, charged with the unspoken tension between you.

As you turned to face him, ready to bid him goodnight and retreat to your separate quarters, Bucky's gaze met yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. There was a vulnerability in his eyes, a rawness that took you by surprise.

"Can I stay with you tonight?" His voice was low, almost hesitant, betraying the confident facade he often wore. There was a hint of uncertainty in his words, a vulnerability that made your heartache.

It was a bold move, really, you both knew it. For a request you were so sure you would’ve declined earlier in the day, you found yourself taken aback.

“Yes," you whispered, your voice barely audible above the pounding of your heart. "Yes, you can stay."

As the door clicked shut behind Bucky, you felt anticipation in the air. His gaze lingered on you, his eyes tracing the contours of your figure with a certain hunger.

“Let me take off that wedding dress," he murmured, his words laced with desire. His eyes bore into yours, daring you to resist him, daring you to deny the attraction that pulsed between you.

Your head was spinning, the way he bounced between sincerity and domination.

For a brief moment, you hesitated, the thought of shedding the symbol of your forced marriage felt like an admission of defeat, surrendering to the forces that had brought you to this moment.

The primal hunger in Bucky’s eyes convinced you, with a hesitant nod, you faced your back to him and pulled your hair over your shoulder.

Bucky’s fingers delicately worked the fastens on your dress, his gaze transfixed on your back. You felt yourself becoming conscious, truly realising for the first time that this man was going to see you at your most vulnerable.

Sensing your apprehension, the air shifted, “you’re doing great, sweetheart”, he murmured, “Tonight, it’s just you and me”.

You eased at his words, as the fabric pooled at your feet in a cascade of silk and lace.

With a tender smile, Bucky reached out, his hand brushing against your cheek with a feather-light touch. “God, you’re beautiful”, he whispered, his voice filled with awe.

His words warmed you from the inside out. There was something more than desire in his gaze. It ignited a fire in you that threatened to consume everything in its path.

In the dim light of the room, you could see the raw hunger in Bucky's eyes, the longing that burned like a fire deep within his soul. But beneath the hardened exterior, there was a vulnerability—a longing for connection, for intimacy.

You doubted he was some sort of blushing virgin, especially with the stunt he pulled at the altar, but it was hard to believe he looked at other women like this.

“W-will you… are you going to…”, you faltered, not quite knowing how to ask him the question.

”Going to what, doll?”

“You know… it’s an arranged marriage. Are you planning to…see other women?”, you ventured, your voice hesitant, uncertain of how to broach the topic.

Bucky's gaze softened as he sensed the gravity of your words, his expression shifting from one of intensity to one of attentiveness. He reached out, gently grasping your hand in his, his thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand.

“I understand why you might have doubts, especially given the circumstances," he began, his voice calm and reassuring. "But I want you to know that I take this marriage seriously. This isn’t a game to me. You’re my wife".

His words carried a weight of sincerity that eased some of the tension in your chest. "I won't deny that my past may have been... adventurous," he continued with a wry smile, "but when it comes to you, I'm all in. I won't be seeing other women. You have my word."

“O-okay”, a small smile playing on your lips.

“And just so we’re clear”, he added, a playful glint in his eye, “you’re not allowed to see other men either”.

You rolled your eyes at that, your smile widening.

Bucky's eyes softened as they landed on your lips, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of his own. "You've got a beautiful smile, you know," he remarked, his tone unexpectedly sincere.

As you met his gaze once more, you couldn't help but notice the way his eyes sparkled with a warmth that mirrored your own.

“Thank you," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, feeling the electricity between you intensify with each passing moment. The hunger in his eyes mirrored your own.

With a boldness you didn't know you possessed, you reach out to him, your fingers tangling in the fabric of his shirt as you draw him closer. The air crackles with tension as your lips meet in a searing kiss, passion and need colliding in a heady rush of sensation.

His hands pulled on your hips, desperate to get you impossibly closer. Your head was spinning.

Bucky gently walked you to the bed, falling onto the sheets when your calves knocked the frame. He ate up the gasp that escaped from your lips hungrily.

“Fuck. I want to devour you”, he murmured against your lips, before taking your bottom one between his teeth. You could only gasp in response as he rolled it.

Bucky’s hands grabbed your wrists, gently placing them above your head. A stark contrast between his gentleness and dominance. His lips trailed down the curve of your neck, nipping and tucking, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

You arched against him, a soft “B-Bucky” escaping your lips.

Bucky released a guttural moan as you bucked your hips into the muscular thigh positioned between your legs.

”Easy, sweetheart”, he whispered, his voice husky with desire. “I don’t want to overwhelm you”.

Bucky's hands trembled slightly as he fought to restrain his desire, the urge to lose himself in the moment almost overwhelming. His breath came in ragged gasps as he tried to control the primal urges that threatened to consume him.

His hands, which had been so commanding just moments before, now moved with a feather-light touch.

"I need to slow down," he muttered, more to himself than to you, his voice strained with effort.

You placed a gentle hand on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your touch, “we can slow down, Bucky”, you whispered reassuringly, your eyes filled with concern.

Bucky's struggle was like a battle raging within him, the conflicting desires tearing at his very core. He was used to being in control, but with you, he felt a primal urge to let go, to surrender to the passion that threatened to consume him.

But he couldn't. Not yet. Not with you.

He looked into your eyes, his own filled with gratitude and longing. "Thank you," he said softly, his voice tinged with relief. "I just want to make sure I'm not pushing you too far, too fast."

He’d never cared for the women he’d taken to bed in the past. There was something about you, an innocence he wanted to preserve, but simultaneously fuck out of you, make it his own.

“I’m okay, I promise”, you reassured him.

“No…it’s me. I want to lose myself in you but… I won’t be able to control myself. I want to do this right”, he admitted.

You caressed his face with your hand, letting a silence fall over you and your husband. He traced circles on your bare skin with his fingertips.

Bucky's arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a warm embrace, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. Feeling the weight of the day finally catching up with you, you nestled into Bucky's embrace, allowing the rhythm of his steady breathing to lull you into a peaceful slumber.

Bucky drifted into a calm sleep, the calmest he’d had in months, until the shrill ring of his phone shattered the silence. Groaning, he fumbled for the source of the disturbance, his hand eventually finding the cold metal of his cell phone on the nightstand.

"Steve?" Bucky muttered, his voice thick with sleep as he answered the call, his mind struggling to shake off the fog of slumber.

"Yeah, it's me," Steve's urgent voice crackled through the line, cutting through Bucky's drowsiness like a knife. "We got a problem”.

Bucky sent a glance to your sleeping form, the sheets pooling around your waist, with your chest lifting rhythmically.

He ran a hand down his face and groaned, not wanting to leave you. “How bad is it?”, he asked, debating whether to throw the phone at the wall.

“Bad enough”, Steve replied grimly.

——————————

Taglist!

@casa-boiardi @winterslove1917 @writingpastmybedtime @thealyrs @kandis-mom @blackhawkfanatic @scott-loki-barnes @mrsevans90 @melsunshine

[just-some-random-blogger]

Safe Keeping | 2

Part 1 2 3

"What say you, lady? Don't you think the Hound would make a fine husband? He would protect you, yes, and you would bear him many babes." I curtsy again but this time, my voice falters when I speak, "I- I think he would," I turn to my left, "Lord Sandor would make a fine husband... a fine father."

Sandor Clegane x Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, forced marriage, enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, smut (dub con, primal play, PIV, rough sex), emotional unavailability, The Hound being abrasive, canon typical casual misogyny, baby fever, typos, etc.

A/N: you guys, i dont want to edit the summary from p1 so i wont. also for future me here are the asks i got for this fic [x] [x] [x] which is like 🤯 cos i thought id get 5 notes on this tbh HAHAH originally posted on ao3 but felt like posting it on here

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @otteropera @poisonsage808 @glitterandgoldfinds

I refused to leave my chambers when I woke.

Not only had I cried myself to sleep, but I had woken with puffy eyes and ended up crying all over again. I was glad that my doting handmaiden was so fiercely loyal to me. Lucy didn't think my weeping childish. She was understanding and eternally on my side. I am immensely grateful for it; I don't know what I would have done without her.

She helped me bathe and dress and eat, then entertained me with gossip from the servants. For a while that was enough.

As the day passed though, my thoughts muddled and left me restless. I could not do anything but obsess over the fact my husband left me after wifing me up.

"Do you think he will come back tonight?" I mutter as I stare blankly at my reflection on the mirror.

Lucy ceases combing my hair and takes my chin in her fingers. Paired with a hand on my shoulder, she silently urges me to straighten my back from my seat. I do just that. She smiles at me through the mirror, "my lady, if you wish it, I will look for him and make him come to you."

I release a breath, "don't be ridiculous."

"I am not being ridiculous," she sets the brush down, "I am being serious."

I feel my throat tighten. My lips quiver but I refuse to break down in tears again. I shake my head rapidly, unwilling to speak, for I knew I would crack if I did.

Lucy frowns in concern then kneels down on my side, grabbing my hand, "my lady, I would die for you."

I screw my eyes shut and break into a whine, "please-"

"I owe you my life," she clasps my hand with hers and brings it to her cheek, "you freed me from my chains. You clothed me, fed me, and showed me kindness none of my masters have ever shown me before," she looks up at me with a solemn expression then repeats, "I would die for you."

I shake my head and lean into her, "live for me, Lucy. I've forgotten what's it was like before you and I don't want to remember."

She kisses my hand and presses her forehead on mine before standing, "I shall do as you command."

She stands behind me and gathers my hair back. She strokes my locks and offers me a smile through the mirror once more. I smile back at her this time around.

The comfort she offers me finally seeps through me as she massages my shoulders.

"I pray the gods will swiftly bless me with a child so that I will have other things to do than await my husband so helplessly and forlorn."

"Well, you said that he pleasured you," Lucy tilts her head, "women who have not been pleasured still bea-

Lucy is cut off by the crashing open of the door. She and I both whip back, hearts in our mouths as we stare at our Lord Clegane, who was staring right back at us.

"What's wrong with you?" he demands. The metal of his armor clanks. I eye the one Lucy tidied to the side, the one I undid the night before, and turn back to him. His brown eyes look at me with such intense accusation.

I feel my hands tremble. I cannot for the life of me find the words to speak. 

What did he even mean? How could he ask me this?

"No one has seen you all day," he says, "have you not left this room once?'

"She 'asn't," Lucy snaps, "milady has been feeling-"

"I wasn't talking to you, wench," the Hound does not turn to her when he says this. His eyes are very much still fixed on me, "I'm talking to my wife."

My wife. I look away. That's right, all that I am now is forfeit to him.

I gasp and turn back when I hear him marching over. Lucy places a protective hand on my shoulder and I find myself cowering into her touch. I clench my jaw and gulp when he stops in front of me.

He gazes upon me for the longest second of my life. He furrows his brows, "what's wrong with your fa-"

I flinch when he reaches out to my cheek.

Instantaneously, Lucy tightens her grip on me and blocks him, and Sandor cuts himself off and recoils before he can even touch my skin. He steps a few paces back then clenches his hand as if he'd gotten burnt.

We both evade each other's gaze. Sandor's eyes finally land on Lucy, "has she been crying?"

Lucy's blood boils. She hisses, "yes," then harshly pronounces, "milord."

Sandor turns away and twitches. He rolls his shoulders back and stretches his hands. He knocks on his chest plate. He looks to no one when he asks, "are you hurt?"

Lucy takes no care in masking her scoff or sigh. I take her arm and she watches me shake my head disapprovingly.

I do not look at anyone when I reply either, "I cannot say I'm not... lord husband."

A thick silence builds in the room within a moment.

When I dare too look at the Hound, he is already looking at me and suddenly speaks, "leave us, wench."

I turn to Lucy. She does not move an inch.

I give her an urging shake, but she is steadfast in her spot. Our Lord Clegane turns to her and grinds his teeth, "you will find I do not make habit of repeating myself."

I shoot up from my seat when Lucy presses forward and quips, "and you will find that I will not allow you to treat milady like this."

"Lucy!" I admonish, yanking her back.

Lucy glares daggers at him as I attempt to pacify and persuade her to leave us. Her eyes do not leave him as I sweep her out the room. I instruct her to walk around the gardens for a while then close the door after.

I press my back against the wooden surface as I look back to the man I was now alone with.

Sandor watches me expectantly. I do not say a word, for I did not know what he wanted to hear.

He finally breaks the silence, "you walk well enough."

I am dumbfounded by his choice of words. I dare not respond when I feel my lips quiver; instead, I nod quickly.

Sandor deeply furrows his brows. He shifts on his spot and chances a step in my direction, "why didn't you come out your room then?"

I lick my lips and shake my head. I turn away from him and mutter, "do I appear like I am in the state to be walking around when I look like this?"

"Like what?" he draws nearer.

I whip my head, "THIS!"

Sandor stops in his tracks. He looks at me, expressionless, "this what?"

I scoff in disbelief, feeling tears immediately soak my face. I whisper, "look at me."

"I am, with both eyes."

"And you see nothing?" I mutter shakily, "feel nothing?'

"Should I feel something?"

My chest sinks; it feels like it's caving in. He might as well gut me and spit on my bones. I turn to my feet and wipe my cheeks, "no. I suppose not."

Sandor curses under his breath. He rips at his collar, suddenly feeling his armour weigh down on him. He feels unbelievably hot. He clears his throat, "it hurts."

I look up at him.

"It hurts the first time, usually," he clarifies, "or in times you're not wet enough." He nods, "you were wet enough."

My entire being burns at his words, at his nonchalance. My face is searing in embarrassment and shame.

I want to scream at him, want to hurtle into him and demand to know why he left me, why he was so removed, but then I find the answers in my head. It dawns on me that he acted carelessly because he didn't care. He didn't want this. He didn't want me. All of it was forced. And so I hold my tongue.

Instead, I calmly explain, "my hurt is not bodily, Sandor."

Sandor's stomach rolls at the sound of his name.

"I was," I turn to space between us, "hurt that you left me. And-" I shake my head as tears rush from my eyes, "I've realized now that it's wrong of me to be."

I put a brave face on in spite of my weeping and hold his stare. The man is as stoic and hard as ever. I scoff at myself for feeling this way.

"Worry no longer, Hound," I open the door, "I will not cause you trouble again."

I step back and make way for him to exit.

He looks at me for what feels like an eternity then marches out the door.

"And have you-"

Lucy and I gasp and turn at once.

"-named it yet, Lady Clegane?"

I chuckle guilty, "Lord Varys."

The man nods to me in regard, "good morrow to you."

I curtsy to him, as does my handmaiden. Lucy lifts her skirt as inconspicuously as possible in hopes to block what was behind her.

Varys catches this and waves his hands, "there be no need for that, my dear. The stray is an obedient one, isn't it?"

I share a look with Lucy before we step back and reveal the dog behind us. Daisy was panting and wagging her tail. She had her front paw bent, for it had been broken and healed that way. I had a maester examine it. In the end, he said it was pointless to put a split because it would not fix her leg and Daisy just kept chewing it anyway.

Daisy closes her mouth and sniffs the man.

"Ah," Varys smiles at the creature, "may I pet it?"

Lucy nods and eagerly explains, "she's Daisy; she is incredibly sweet, milord."

Varys cheerfully scratches the crown of the dog's head.

Though he laughs, my own face contorts into an opposite expression, "please make no note of it to my husband."

Varys looks at me exaggeratedly, as though he was offended.

I continue, "she makes me happy."

"One does not need to be told that to know," he presses his lips together. He links his hands, "I imagine you must be rather heavyhearted since the arrival of your womanly bleeding."

I drop my gaze upon hearing this. The master of whispers truly knew all. Lucy turns to me, then back to him, "milord, it's not proper to mention these things."

Varys measures my reaction before turning to Lucy, "yes. I suppose one such as myself has no business speaking of such things." He raises a finger, "still, if you should ever need assistance with that or your stray, know that my services are available to you, my lady."

I smile at him and nod, "I thank you for it, Lord Varys."

With that, he walks away.

"Do you think he will tell him?" Lucy asks as she grabs my arm.

I sigh and turn Daisy.

I've only had her for few days but she's given me purpose. I named her Daisy because she turned up from a bush of daisies while I read in the gardens. I was shocked, puzzled with how she got there, and a little scared she would bite me. When I noticed her injury, I figured she must be very weak and offered her food. She had my heart the moment she licked my fingers.

It was fate, I figured. I had not read in the gardens since the Hound berated me for it, and she came out of nowhere. When I imagine what would have happened to her if anyone else found her, I dread to think of the fact she could have been struck dead. The gods must have sent her to me, to remedy my sorrow and fill in for the absence of my Hound.

I was meant to save Daisy, and she was meant to save me.

I shake my head, "I'll have someone keep her tonight."

The Hound stops in his tracks when he witnesses what he does from afar. A blazing fury engulfs him as he watches two women walk away. The guard, who was spoken to, ogle their figures as they did.

Sandor laughs under his breath, but of course, nothing about this situation was funny to him.

He immediately charges when the guard is left alone, stupidly attending to an open crate-- he'll fucking bash it into his skull.

The guard goes back to his post and spots the approaching giant. At first, he is unfazed by the Hound but fear quickly finds him when he realizes he was heading straight for him.

He does not speak. The Hound simply grabs him by the chest plate, lifts him up and slams him on to the stone wall. He was angry-- worse, he was irrational.

"Why was she speaking to you?!" he snaps, "what business do you have with her?!"

The guard does not waste a second in spilling his guts, "Lady Clegane paid me to watch her dog!" He sounded like he was about to piss his pants.

"What?!" he seethes.

"The crate! The crate! There's a dog in the crate!" 

Sandor shoves him away and walks toward the crate. Lo and behold, the Hound sees the mutt, fur a light shade of brown, tongue out as it pant, right arm curled up.

He draws his sword.

Lucy and I head back to my chambers after eating supper. Our chattering is abruptly cut when he step in and see the Hound's hulking figure.

To say I am shocked is an understatement. I am terrified. He has not come to my chambers since the day after our wedding night, and now, here he was after Lord Varys confronted me. I struggle to swallow the lump in my throat, "my lord, I-"

"Don't you have one too many dogs now?" he growls.

Lucy is unable to hide the sound that leaves her mouth. My eyes begin to water as trepidation rips up my neck. I whisper, "Sandor."

Sandor flinches. He huffs, "what were you doing with it? You playing dolls with it, girl?"

"I saved her!" I explain with a shaky voice. "I fed her, gave her water-"

"Its leg is broken. You keep it in a crate. It's mercy for me to kill it."

Lucy gasps. My stomach drops and I run up to him, "no. Please. Please, tell me you didn't-"

I start when I see something move on the bed. I let out a shaky breath when a bark echoes in the room. I had never been more relieved to see Daisy than now.

Sandor growls, "OFF!" He marches to the bed and charges at the her. I shriek and grab his arm, holding him back. Of course, I nearly shoot forward for what was my strength against his? Still, he turns back to me and huffs. Daisy jumps down the bed and comes to my side.

Lucy grabs her and leads her to the corner of the room.

I continue to beg, "please, don't kill her. Please, I beg of you."

"You pay the guards to watch the mutt," Sandor yanks his arm away; the action hurts my hand. He seethes, "you're better off selling the bitch to a butcher as pig food."

I wail, "it was only this time! I have kept her with me since before." I drop to my knees, "please, I will ask nothing more of you," hot tears burn down all the way down to my chest. "I beg that you just let her live."

Sandor steps back and looks down at me. I can see how pathetic he thinks I am at this moment, and yet I find myself unable to care.

"You will ask me nothing more, aye?" he scoffs. His lips curl, "don't you want a child?"

My expression drops.

"You would rather save the bitch than have a babe?"

I am unable to speak. 

Why is he doing this to me?

"Well?!" he demands.

I screw my eyes shut when some of his spit sputters to my face. I turn to the floor, "she's been keeping me company in your absence. She's-"

"Ah, so that's why she feels so comfortable on the bed. You sleep with her."

I look up at him, about to explain that she sleeps on the floor and has never done that before. I do not have the chance.

"Well then keep your stray," he scoffs, "and have it fuck a babe into you."

The Hound storms off right after.

He grips his hand and his hilt as he marches away.

He should have killed it, he shouldn't have hesitated. The only reason he did was because it didn't flinch at his sword. The mutt was so dumb it had no fear. It even propped on the crate and tried sniffing the steel. Brainless.

His insides feel like they were boiling.

He knew the little girl would weep if he killed it, yet he didn't and there were tears anyway. He curses loudly. It reverberates in the hall.

He should have killed it.

Now it was too late.

"I see you make friends even with stray cats now, my lady."

I look over my shoulder after the cat I was petting runs off because of the voice. Lord Baelish comes up to me, sparing a quick glance to the orange feline that jumped down the wall. He turns back to me with a smile, "pardon me, Lady Clegane, I did not mean to frighten the kitty."

I shake my head, returning a soft smile. I wrap my arms around myself, still not entirely used to the light fabric and freeness of the dresses I've been wearing lately, "it's alright, my lord. The cats do not like people."

Baelish walks in front of me and smiles wider, "they must see you their goddess then."

I shake my head and give a soft chuckle.

"Where is your hound?" he asks.

I stiffen.

He clarifies, "I mean the one with the broken leg."

I release a breath and look out to the view, "I had my handmaiden bathe her."

"Mmm," Baelish looks out to the view with me, "thus why you sought the cats."

A breeze brushes past us.

I do not turn to him, but I know he turns to me. He speaks, "one such as you should not be left alone or unaccompanied."

"Why? Would you hurt me, Lord Baelish?"

He chuckles, "and risk getting mauled by the Hound? I would not."

I watch as a flock of birds fly overhead.

"Other things perhaps," he says.

I do not respond to him.

A moment passes with nothing but looking and silence.

I feel his hot breath when he sighs deeply, "I remember clearly the day I first met you."

Baelish speaks my first name and it's enough to finally make me to turn to him. In truth, my name sounds foreign to me. Who I was has been long overshadowed by Lady Clegane... or, more accurately, the Hound himself.

"You were a vibrant flower. Your fragrance wafted through the room the moment you stepped in," he says, taking one step closer. "Being around you was a privilege; conversing with you, a prize."

I blink at his words, taking in the lines of his face, "and now," I clasp my hands together, "I've withered away, have I?"

His Baelish-blue eyes appear to be solemn. My lips part when he takes my hands in his. He speaks under his breath, "you are more radiant than ever."

I do not move an inch.

"Take heart," he speaks my name again, "hounds are crushed under heels of goddesses."

I pull away from him and shake my head, "do not speak blasphemy with me."

He laughs, bringing his hands behind him, "ever devout and god-fearing." He raises an arm, "shall we part ways by the stables? I will be heading out of the keep."

I debate for a moment. Ultimately, I offer polite smile and decide to agree.

We walk with no sense of urgency. I never knew Petyr to be one for small talk, and so I am surprised that he asks me about my dresses. In truth, I really shouldn't have been.

"Your dresses are Dornish, are they not?" he raises a brow.

"Dornish-like," I clarify, "it was my usual tailor that made my new dresses. I feared if I asked a Dornish tailor for a modest silhouette, I'd be colder than I am now."

We share a soft laugh.

He shrugs, "the style suits you still," he smiles. "Undoubtedly, the Dornes would love to dress you in their more traditional clothing."

I purse my lips and raise my brows, "wouldn't you like that, Petyr?"

He chuckles, slightly in disbelief by the casual referral. He raises his hands, "I said the Dornes. I am not Dornish, my dear."

When we reach the stables, I stop in my tracks, not because we're about to depart, but because his words freeze me in my spot.

"Surely, our Lord Clegane finds it hard to keep his hands off you."

I do my best to stay neutral, to not give myself away. Baelish holds back a smirk.

"Wouldn't you like to know what me and Lord Clegane get up to?"

Baelish laughs, "if I'm being honest, I do."

I roll my eyes at him and nod dismissively, "farewell, my lord."

He nods back with a chuckles, "and you, my lady."

I promptly head to my chambers after this. As I walk on, however, I remember that another day has passed with me not seeing Lord Clegane. I am unsure if it was deliberate or coincidental, but it was the fact either way.

It had been a handful of days since my monthly bleeding passed. I was never a regular bleeder, and when it came this time around, it stayed longer than usual. I was glad with his absence then, in not needing to explain myself to my him. The moment it had finished, however, I expected I would at least see him once.

I did not.

This lead to my decision to be more... seductive.

And, well yes, or course, he yelled at me and told me to have my bitch fuck me instead-- truly, there was a large pit of dread in my stomach because of this, but people say a lot of things in anger, things they don't mean. He could not have meant that.

I rub my belly, willing the dread away.

I refuse to believe he meant that.

I suck in a breath and decide to head to the king's chambers.

Besides, I've been assured over and under that men really like making babies.

My breath hitches when I catch sight of the Hound, guarding the door. I see him do a double take when he spots me, and yet he gazes into space in the end.

"Good evening, my lord," I curtsy at him.

He grunts with exasperation, "what are you doing here?"

"I wanted," I measure my words carefully, "to request you not stay out late tonight."

The man turns his head fully to me, "what?"

I feel my throat itch. I clear my throat, "I was hoping that you come to my chambers before too late."

Sandor shifts in his spot. He eyes me up and down. I feel like I am being burned alive under his gaze.

He looks away and shifts back in place.

I open my mouth but I don't get to speak at all.

"Dog. Dog! Come inside, I-" King Joffrey calls but then ceases when he steps out of the room and sees me. 

I immediately curtsy, "my king. Good evening."

Joffrey raises a brow and demands to know why I'm here, referring to me by the house I was born into.

I offer him a smile, "I wanted to speak to my lord husband, your grace."

His face contorts in deep bewilderment. He opens his mouth and raises a finger, "why would you come h-" he turns to the Hound and stops himself. He breaks into a laugh. He laughs so hard that he clutches his stomach, "oh!" He wheezes, "oh, I've forgotten about that!"

King Joffrey calms down with a sigh. He from to his Kingsguard then to me, eyeing my attire. He chuckles under his breath as his eyes rake me down, "I see your wife has dressed to seduce you, dog." His looks up to my face, "or wouldn't that make you bitch?"

I do not respond for a moment, put on the spot by his malice, but then my wits finally meet me. I curtsy to the king, "I am what my king makes me to be."

Joffrey laughs airily. He shakes his head, "my, dog," he turns to his guard, "I've truly matched you well," he pats his shoulder plate, "too well, in fact."

He then retreats into his chambers, calling out as he did, "you're dismissed, dog. Breed your bitch as you like."

The door slams shut.

I release a breath once the king leaves, clutching my belly as I did so.

Sandor does not move an inch from his spot. He does not look at me.

I begin to get nervous all over again. I try, "husband?"

"You think I'll answer to your whistle just because you're dressed like a whore?"

My face hardens. I look away from him. I mean I expected as much.

I swallow the lump in my throat, "I only wanted to please you-"

He scoffs.

I look back at him, "I will dress more modestly if it is what you'd like."

"I'd like not to see you whoring around."

I am unable to withhold my scoff, "I am what my lord makes me out to be."

The Hound finally spares me a glance. I glare at him as I curtsy, "apologies for the impertinence." I turn on my heels and walk away. My anger and vexation gets the best of me. I cannot help but jeer, "if my dress angers you so, take it off me then."

Sandor shifts on his spot.

I continue down the hall.

His lips curl as he growls lowly, "run."

I do not hear anything but my own grumbling.

"Run, little girl!" he barks, making me jolt and turn back to him with a scowl. The irritation is apparent in my face as I stop at the end of the hall, "what?"

The Hound begins to march over. My heart races as I hear him warn, "run, if you know what's good for you"

I begin to shuffle back.

"I'll tear that shit off your body when I catch you."

I break into a sprint at the sound of his threat.

I don't look back. I heave heavily as I rush down the halls. I don't hear him chasing after me, though once I'm far, I see him treading fast as the times he's dragged me by the arm. My stomach flurries with anxiousness and regret.

When I reach my chambers, I mentally debate whether or not I should lock the door. I gulp at the idea of him breaking it down. I decide I do not want a memory such as that to be branded into my brain.

I gasp when he bursts into the room. I grip my skirts from the edge of the bed where where I sat.

The Hound locks the door before walking over to me. He grabs my shoulders and shoves me down on my belly.

I squeak when he grabs my skirts and rips it all the way up my ribs. He scoffs, "fucking parchment."

I hear him grab something by my vanity. I do not dare to look at him. I proceed to hear him undo his armor and his clothes.

I hear a pop. I yelp when he grabs my smallclothes and yanks them down. I groan into the cushions when I feel his fingers toy with my folds.

"Don' fink you nee' vis," he speaks like something was in his mouth. He pulls his hand away and suddenly the smell of my lavender oil assaults my senses. I hear a squelch. Something is thrown to my side; it's my vial.

I squeak when he grabs my hips. He sighs, "you're ready on your own." We both make noises when he begins to thrust into me. The Hound growls, "little girl likes to be chased."

I am shoved into the cushions. My entire body tenses.

"You want to dress like a whore," he taunts, "I'll fuck you like a whore."

His tempo is brutal and harsh. He does not relent or give me leeway. It's strange and shameful that my body even feels tingles of pleasure.

I cannot help the screams that rip out of my throat. Had I not been faced down on the cushion, I fear that I would have woken the dead.

I call out his name when he hoists my hips up. My toes could no longer touch the floor. He begins moving faster. My hands dig into the sheets. I feel my eyes water.

The Hound howls. He shoves me down and suddenly my feet are on the ground. He plunges deep, it makes my eyes roll back. His thrusts become increasingly irregular and after with a few more slaps, he stops.

I catch my breath, thanking the gods he's shown mercy.

I whine when I feel him pull away. I gulp and shift on my spot. I anticipate his next movements. I hear a rustle. I lift my head up and look back at him, confused by the sight of him tying himself up.

Was... was it done?

"Don't think to have that dress mended, girl," he pants as he grabs something from the floor. I roll on my back, feeling uneasy because of the wetness between my thighs. I watch him unlock the door and slam the door on his way out.

All hells were breaking loose. King's Landing was under attack, the castle was on fire, and Stannis Baratheon was winning.

All the women and children holed up in the queen's retreat chamber spilled out to gods know where.

My mind was racing, yet all I could think was: run, flee, Lucy, Daisy, Hound.

I was already running. I was already fleeing. I was doing both with Lucy in my grip. I had Lucy, but I did not have Daisy.

We were running up to my chambers. I left Daisy there, my poor Daisy. We were fleeing up the stairs in haste, sparing no time to catch a breath.

I had no idea what we were to do. We could bar the door, block it with our bed. Lucy and I could manage it, I think. Was it a good idea? Would it guarantee our safety? There was only one way we'd know.

I quickly open the door and lock it once Lucy and I are inside.

We take a moment to finally catch our breath. Lucy grabs my arms and I grab hers. I can feel her shaking. I rub her skin, "it will be alright. No harm will reach us here."

Lucy shakes her head, "milday, you and me both know that's not true."

My heart shatters when I catch the way her eyes water. "Shhh," I pull her into a hug, "have I ever failed you, Lucy?"

She seals her arms around me and whispers, "no."

"Nothing will happen to us," I rub her back, "I will protect you."

"And I, you," she pulls away, "as will Daisy," she wipes her tears before they fall, "and the 'ound."

We scream when we hear a voice in the room. We press our back against the wall and turn to the bed. A figure is sat on the floor by its side. What was said was, "your mutt is stupid."

Lucy and I clutch each other for dear life. I recognized that voice. I muster the courage to tiptoe towards the figure and breathe out shakily when I confirm the presence, "Sandor?"

The man turns to me as we walk up to him. Sandor had Daisy on his lap. She looked up and blinked at me before closing her eyes. She was being pet a bloody hand and did not mind at all.

"She was jumped on me when I walked in. She looked excited," he turns to Daisy, "stupid bitch. Anyone else would have chopped her up."

I find myself releasing a breath of relief. Here now was Daisy, and Hound. I had nothing left to think about.

I walk up to him, kneeling on his side. He turns to me. I examine his face, dirtied and bloodied, "are you hurt?"

He looks at me for a moment. I watch him slowly raise his hand. He cautiously touches my cheek. I clutch his wrist in my hands. He swipes his thumb on my skin, "save your tears." I didn't even know I shed them. "None of the fuckers got close enough to try."

He draws his hand back. He grunts as he gets to his feet. Daisy moves back, wobbling on her three legs; I move back too.

"Take your valuables," the Hound grunts, "we're fucking leaving."

I pull my head back. I watch the man survey the room.

Lucy runs up to my side and she wipes my cheek with her skirt. She watches the red collect on the fabric and wonders who it belonged to. She wagers it's not from her lord.

I shake my head in confusion as Sandor grabs a satchel and stuffs my jewelry in it, "I don't understand. Aren't you going to fight?"

"Fuck the fight," he quips as he shoves objects down and raids through the drawers and closets.

Lucy finishes wiping my face. I walk off and grab all my hidden pouches of gold. I hand it to Sandor, "what about the king?"

"Fuck the king," he takes the pouches and stuffs it into the bag, "fuck him especially."

Sandor then chucks the satchel to Lucy, who grunts when she catches it.

"The stupid fuck's done nothing but fuck around," he picks up Daisy, propping her front legs on his shoulder, "no good thing's come from that fuck." He takes me by the hand and mumbles, " 'cept for one."

He releases me only to unlock the door and hold me again. He does not let me go until we reach the outside of the keep.

The whole lot was in disarray; dead bodies, debris, and fire littered the scene. He hands me Daisy, and I struggle slightly to carry her, considering she was not a small breed. He walks not too far off and brings a wandering horse over.

It's a wonder we do not encounter anyone on this side of the castle, more so that we find a horse.

Sandor takes Daisy and puts her down before helping me mount the steed. My stomach rolls with how his touch lingered on my thigh once I was on.

Next, he took the satchel from Lucy and handed it to me. He then eyed her when she stepped forward, as if debating whether or not he wanted to bring her along. Before she or I could speak up about it, Sandor is already helping her climb up behind me. Lucy takes the satchel from me and eyes him after. He rolls his eyes.

He picked up Daisy and tried handing her to me. However, she struggled too much and could not fit in my arms, so he cursed and threw her back onto his shoulders. He grabbed the horse's reins and started walking.

"Fucking bitch, fucking wench, fucking horse, fucking war, fucking-"

[bunnys-kisses]

girl's place - simon "ghost" riley

pairing: simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader rating: 18+ summary: You remembered playing with matches as a child. You also remembered playing with lighters as a teenager that was paired with the occasional shoplifting. You weren't a problem child, but you had you niches of delinquency.

And somehow you ended up in the military. While most were in active duty, you found comfort on base working in the offices. Most of the day was spent filing paperwork. But unlike most of your fellow soldiers, you had a shadow. Or perhaps a ghost.

If the military didn't scrub away the delinquent behaviour that lingered from youth, Simon Riley made sure you were next to saintly.

tags: pwp, power dynamic, rough sex, punishment, spitting, spanking, degrading, a touch of misogyny (aka a lot of it), mean!ghost, breeding kink

a/n: okay, i want to apologize to feminism...

join my discord! (18+)

You remembered playing with matches as a child. You also remembered playing with lighters as a teenager that was paired with the occasional shoplifting. You weren't a problem child, but you had your niches of delinquency.

And somehow you ended up in the military. While most were in active duty, you found comfort on base working in the offices. Most of the day was spent filing paperwork. But unlike most of your fellow soldiers, you had a shadow. Or perhaps a ghost.

If the military didn't scrub away the delinquent behavior that lingered from youth, Simon Riley made sure you were next to saintly.

-

You knew you were in trouble the moment you stepped foot in your ghost's quarters. Simon was there in his baklava, a tank top that showed off all the toned muscles of his arms, and uniform pants. It was probably as casual as he could get.

He was reading something you didn't get the title of before he put it down and rose from his desk. You could see the assortment of weapons, mainly knives on the desk. It made you swallow nervously.

  ”Hello, love.“ He said as he approached you. He was so much bigger than you, not only in height but in sheer size. It always put him in the more domineering position.

  ”Hello, Simon.“ You replied.

You could feel his smile under the mask. You shifted from one foot to another. He took you by the chin and made you face him.

  ”A little birdie told me that you've been misbehaving.“ He tilted his head to the side, “You know how I feel about bad girls.“

Your eyes darted in another direction, ”It wasn't even that bad.“

He chuckled softly, ”Getting a little too aggressive with the new recruits is quite bad. I heard a few had to go into the infirmary.“ He paused for a moment, ”You should be in your office doing your paperwork. Not training the new men. You're simply too small.“

  ”I'm not that small.“ You tried to correct it.

He replied, ”If not small then weak. If they got a good right hook in then I'd have to go kill someone.“ He then added, ”Look at me when I'm talking to you.“

You had no choice but to look at him once more. He stroked your cheek with his thumb, then pulled his mask up which was followed by him leaning down for a kiss. He further invaded your space and made you feel smaller. Weaker, even.

You moaned into the kiss, it was firm. But not wet and messy. He wrapped his other arm around you and pulled you close to him. With your bodies pressed together, you could feel his erection in his uniform pants.

  ”Simon.“

  ”It's sir tonight. You don't get the privilege of using my name when you're being a stupid girl.“ He growled. He really didn't like you out of the office and possibly in the line of danger.

You whimpered in response and you leaned into him for another searing kiss. You wrapped your arms around  him and kept your eyes closed as you kissed him. You whimpered when his grasp tightened once more.

When he pulled away and put the mask back up. Those hard eyes stared down at you. He waited for a moment before he reached behind you and grabbed the meat of your ass.

  ”Now are you gonna be a good girl, or stand there?“ You could tell he was raising his eyebrows. He used both hands to grab at your ass, then he left a quick smack across the cheek. “Get to it.”

You scurried to the desk and pulled down your pants. Which left you bottom half bare except for the pretty pink panties you wore. A drastic difference between the uniform pants you wore and the delicate underwear that was underneath them.

But only he knew you wore them. You said they were comfortable, but he believed that it was because you liked to tease him. The little secret you shared.

He was close behind. And from behind you, he grabbed your throat and pulled the panties down to your knees. He then guided you forward. Some of the paper on the desk was shoved to the edges to make room for you. You felt a heat run through you as you were manhandled.

It was him trying to send a message, you were simply a weak little girl. And you had to listen to the much bigger, stronger man. Even when he tried to teach you this lesson, it never seemed to stick. You were dead set on defying, Simon.

Such a silly girl.

He kept his hand on your throat, the calloused fingers remained firm on your skin. Not enough to bruise you, but enough to keep you in your place. Once again, a reminder.

He was the dominant one in the relationship. The one who wore the 'pants'. You didn't have to worry your little head about anything while he was around.

You just had to sit there and go 'yes, sir'. And let him fuck you silly once in a while.

  “You've been a bad girl, lovie.” He said in your ear, “You go around with your head held high. You think you're above it all, that you are Miss Wonder Woman who can do it all.” He chuckled darkly in your ear, “But I know better.”

You swallowed, “Simon.”

  “No, no.” He said, “I know you better than yourself. You've been told your entire life that you can do anything you put your mind to. That you're unstoppable. No man can clip your wings.” He slapped your ass, the sound filled the room.

You let out a whimper.

  “I know what you want. Tired of proving yourself. Tired of fighting to be the top dog. I'm pretty sure if I told you I bought us a little place in the country, you'd have your bags packed by the count of four.“ His voice was low, in contrast with the loud noise of his slaps.

Your cheeks grew warm from his words. Inside of you there was a war waging between him being right and him being wrong. But you'd never admit to him that he was right. You'd branish your teeth and prove your worth till he fucked the drive out of you.

  ”You know I'm right. You'd be in the car by the count of ten.“ He chuckled once more, ”Living out in the country, away from this. You'd be my wife, my little doll I kept safe at home. No need to play with the big boys when you can play house all day. Isn't that what most women want?“

  ”No.“

  ”Liar.“ He laid another slap on your ass, ”You know I hate liars.“ His voice was laced with venom, a hot rush went through you as he tightened his hold on your throat a little more.

  ”I enjoy my job.“

  ”But you'd enjoy raising my brats more.“ He replied.

The thought of him breeding you made your stomach flip and your pussy grow wetter. You felt flushed in the apples of your cheeks as he continued to swat at your ass.

He kept you pinned in place, he knew that he held power over you. You were just a dumb little girl trying to play with the big boys. But he knew better.

He laid a few more smacks across your ass as he continued his dirty talk. He wanted to make you as flustered as possible before he put you in your place.

  ”Poor little girl who never got the attention she needed, comes crawling to the biggest man on base and has him fuck all the girl power shit outta her. Makes her a dumb little doll droolin' on my cock. You should be at home makin' me dinner.” His voice was hot. It left you  trembling.

You tried to form a comeback but your mind drew to a blank. Your heart was racing and your ass was sore. You felt your body tremble from the situation you found yourself in. If your head was clearer you would've fought back with whatever he said. But instead you were second guessing yourself if he was right.

  “Yeah, you know I'm right, girlie.” His voice was dangerous and low again. He could probably hear your heartbeat, “Ra ra girl power cannot kill the idea that your place is between my legs, in a home I bought, raising the kids I put in ya.”

  “Simon.”

  “Don't start. You'll never win. So accept it, let me be the big strong man. You can be the cute little homemaker I fill up every evening.” He purred as he massaged your ass cheek with his strong hand, “Pretty girls like you should be kept dumb. Keep ya young.”

You let out a small whimper as you felt him grab into the muscle of your ass. His grip was hard and left you trying to buck away from him. But from the grip on your throat, you weren't going too far.

  “I could take you out.” You gave one last ditch effort to prove him wrong. You were stubborn like that. Like when you were told to stop playing with matches. When someone told you 'no', you doubled down.

He squeezes your throat once more and pushes you down onto the desk. Not hard enough to knock a tooth out, but enough to physically put you in your place. He laughed. It came from deep in his chest. Your comment HUMORED him. He leaned over you, his clothed cock up against your back. He was dangerous now, “Stupid little girl. They all think like that, but yet I'm still here. Everyone thinks they can kill a ghost. But not even a man could do it. What makes you think a silly little girl would be able to? I bet if I fucked you hard enough, you'd forget how to even hold a gun.”

You swallowed and squirmed under his rough touch, “Fuck you.”

  “Oh no, girlie. I'm going to fuck you. And I'm going to make sure that it all takes. Hard to be on the field when you got two little Riley boys inside of ya.” It was almost  a threat.

And yet you were aroused.

He rubbed his cock up against your ass more. Some of the wetness from your pussy smeared against the front of his uniform pants. He shuddered in response, he too was getting aroused.

He had you by the back of the neck now to keep you pinned to the wood of the desk. Under his rough touch, where you belonged.

  “I know you better. I know you want that kind of life. I know you hate this, that's why you're always actin' up. So I punished you, the only one who'll stand up to you. Maybe I should breed ya sooner rather than later. Leave you all achy and sore because my brats won't give you a moment of peace. Then you leave the army and move somewhere quiet to raise the hellions. But we're not stopping at two.” He let go of you to undo his pants, “I'm thinkin' closer to five. Something to keep your hands full.”

You stayed still as he got his impressive cock out his pants. You trembled as he rubbed it up against you, occasionally brushing against your pussy. You whimpered pathetically, which only made him chuckle.

   “Stupid girl.” He said.

  “Please.” You whimpered.

He smirked under the mask, “You'll learn.” Then with one hand on your neck and the other on his cock. He guided his length into your sweet sex.

You tensed up and shifted as best as you could to make the stretch more bearable. It still stings every time. It felt like it pushed your organs into your throat. Especially when he was battering your poor cervix.

He groaned, it came from deep in his chest as he felt your tight heat around his cock. It felt so good. It was a rush he couldn't find anywhere else.

  “See, a nice hole to fuck. A nice womb to breed. Now stay there and let me do all the work. Just try not to wake up the whole base by being a loud mouth whore.” His voice stung but it only made the slick between your legs grow.

Simon was something else in the bedroom. When he had you under his thumb like this. You felt your eyes roll back a little from the sheer force of his thrusts.

  “Fuck.” You moaned.

  “That's it, that's my girl. My good girl. See you don't have to be runnin' around like a lost puppy. You just need me to fill your holes and make ya feel good.” His voice was low and gruff. It made you hot all over.

  “Please, Simon.” You arched your back as his pace became brutal. You clawed at the wood of the desk and felt his hard cock bully against the end of your pussy.

 “I wanna mark ya, inside and out.” He said, “Keep ya nice and fat with my kids.” He chuckled as he pulled the mask up once more and began to kiss at your neck. His hands were on your breasts over your shirt.

He toyed with them, large hands massaged them. You let out a small noise from the tiny bit of pain he caused you. You arched your back more and held onto the desk tighter.

The sounds of sex filled the air between you two as he fucked you bareback. He was so domineering, so strong that it made you a little weak in the knees.

  “You're mine, lovie. Mine to fuck, breed, own.” He grunted, “No need to think with that head of yours when you got kids to chase down. At home, safe and sound. Where you belong.”

You whimpered and tried to come up with a response. But it was near impossible to come up with something when it felt like his cock was nudging up against your broca area in your head.

  “Please.”

He chuckled darkly, “That's what I thought. Good girl.” He continued his rough pace. The desk creaked under the both of you as he held you tightly against him. His hands grabbed at your breasts further.

You wondered how dark the bruises would be on your chest.

  “I can't get enough of you. That's why I have to keep ya safe. Keep you bred like a good girl, you'd like that wouldn't ya.”

  “Simon, ah!” You whimpered as you felt pleasure course through your body. You felt trapped between his thick body and the heavy wood of the desk as he battered against your womb.

He kissed your neck once more, “You'd look so good. Knowing I take care of everything. You just have to sit there and look pretty. Cook me some meals, put the kids to bed and stop this little goal of being the best.”

You swallowed. When he praised you like this, when you behaved you were his good girl. When he was able to soak your insides with his cum, you were his favorite girl.

He'd only breed a good girl. Not the delinquent you once were. He wanted a proper wife, who'd raise his kids RIGHT. He watched your back arched and came to the conclusion that you COULD behave.

You just needed a full womb first to reach your potential.

The two of you continued to fuck. You let out small moans as your body was used like a toy. Simon made sure to make you feel good even if it felt like he was moving your stomach into your throat.

  “Good breedin' girl.” He purred, “I make you good, silly girls like you need to be kept bred so you keep out of trouble. But don't worry, I'll make that happen. Nothing won't fix ya like a couple of kids and a big house.”

You whimpered and he turned your head to him so you could passionately make out. He rutted against you and your body screamed for him.

You gasped into the kiss as he grabbed your hips one more time. The sound of the desk scratching against the floor mixed with your noises and the general noises of sex was all you could hear in the room.

  “Please.” You moaned. You had been told your entire life that you could do anything. That you were invincible. Nothing could stop a powerhouse like you. As Simon said, ra ra girl power. But a part of you deep in your core wanted to be a dumb little housewife, servicing a husband and keeping the babies taken care of.

You moaned into the kiss once more before he pulled away and grabbed you by the hair and pulled your head back. He leaned in and took in your scent.

  “I want to ruin you for other men.” He said honestly. His own primal urge to breed with the little girlie hanging around the base.

If he didn't breed you and kept you taken care of, then a worse man would. One who didn't know every inch of your skin, or didn't understand what your true intentions in life were.

But he'd take care of you, that was a promise. Nothing was going to stop him from taking what was his. And if he kept your womb nice and painted, then no other man could do it. He'd make sure you reeked of his cum at all times.

  “Ah!” You gasped.

  “Good girl.” He purred.

You felt pleasure begin to run through your body. Your body ached for him. Your legs trembled as he continued to thrust deep into you. It was a good kind of pain, the kind that left you panting.

  “Fuck.” He grumbled, “Fuckin' good girl for me.”

  “Please, Simon. Ah! Breed me.“ You groaned in response. The feeling was becoming overwhelming and left you in a state of euphoria.

You two panted and groaned as your bodies moved together. You held onto the wood and let him do as he wished with your body.

After all, he knew better.

With a few more hard thrusts, you both finished at the same time. You could feel his hot cum deep in you. You whined as you went flat against the desk, your brain felt like it had broken in half from the intense feeling.

Simo slowed down and laid on the last smack on your ass before he pulled the mask down. He held your hips and gave one last push inside of you to make sure it was all inside of you.

He chuckled and pulled out, ”Good girl.“ He said, ”Now take it all and make me a few brats. If not, we'll just keep trying'.“

His breathing was heavy as he pulled you away from the desk and got your underwear over your ass. THe drips of cum that spilled out made a dark patch on the front of the panties.

Your head was in a daze, your hair a mess. You couldn't even keep your mouth fully closed. He pushed back your hair and pulled you into his arms.

  ”Alright my stupid little wife, why don't you come back to your senses before I send you out.“ His hand dipped back into your pants as he played with your clit.

Maybe he'd need to take you a few more times before it all took? That didn't sound like a bad idea. Keep you out of the office and in his bed till there was no choice but for you to get pregnant.

A shiver ran through him at the thought. He agreed with himself. That did sound like a good idea.

Anything to keep his dumb little girl nice and bred.

xoxo, bunny

[radio-writes]

I Don't Know if I'm Real Without You

— Part 2 of 2 (Read Part 1 here: What is Left of Me Without You)

Synopsis: He didn't love you, but he needed you—that's what he said, at least. He needed you to show him just how deep your devotion to him really was.

Warnings: abusive relationships, power imbalance, some misogyny, heavy manipulation, gaslighting, murder and violence, physical injury to reader, major character death(s), angst

Tags: married, one sided romantic love, Alastor x Reader, female!reader

MDNI

"Why, just the other day a green fuzzy caught sight of another stiff by the river! Poor green egg went green in the face!" A laugh track followed the voice on the radio.

Alastor sat on the couch as he riffled through his briefcase, making sure he had everything he needed today.

"What poor taste," You commented absentmindedly from behind him. "Is that really any way to start off a Sunday morning?" 

Alastor let out a distracted hum at your words. He hadn't really been paying you much mind. A lazy smile simply played on his face.

Just one body? Seems they missed the other two friends it had in there.

"Well, it takes talent to entertain, my dear. Something these hacks clearly lack," He said casually, waving a hand at the radio's direction. 

"And speaking of stiffs! We've got a fresh one today, folks—" The host's voice was chipper as it came from the radio.

Alastor sat a little straighter, as if on instinct.

"Darling, do you mind fetching my script?" Your husband spoke over the hack radio host. "Seems I might have forgotten it in our bedroom." 

"Not a problem, dear," You replied almost instantaneously. Your hand landed on his shoulder, giving it an affectionate squeeze before you left the room. 

Alastor stood up, cooly making his way towards the radio as he turned the volume down slowly. 

"Glue stuffed in his mouth, chilled off, and absolutely tattered by nails, people! Brutal new body found behind the local—not so secret—juice joint!" The radio continued, but Alastor's smile remained calm despite the gruesome news.

His eyes stayed at the doorway you left through, making sure you had actually gone.

There was no need to sully your little ears with useless chatter like this. You were much more use to him all oblivious and naive, so he'd prefer to keep you that way. 

When the radio host finally finished talking about his the most latest victim, Alastor turned the volume back up to how it was. He made his way back to the couch, hands gathering his script neatly into his hands from the top of his briefcase.

He chuckled to himself before calling out to you. "Never mind, dear! The little bugger was at the bottom of my case this entire time!" 

He wasn't the type to forget these things. He was always so organized, sometimes to a fault.

And you knew that.

And Alastor knew that you knew that.

But he wasn't worried. You'd never doubt him. Whatever pesky little thought you had related to him, you'll just brush off easily.

He'd made sure of that.

Alastor heard you playfully scold him, your soft laughter rung through his home.

"—I guess you can say he really nailed that Chicago overcoat!" The annoying little shit on the radio joked just as you entered the room.

Alastor spared it one quick glare before his sight fell on you once more. You didn't seem to care for the joke much, but your eyes did linger on the dials of the radio for a second too long Alastor thought.

"Does the radio seem a bit louder to you, Al?" You asked him.

Ah, he must have turned it back a tad bit too far.

He looked at you with faux confusion. "'fraid I don't know what you mean, dear. Why would it be louder?" He stood up, closing the briefcase in front of him and straightening out his collar. "But I do have to split now, darling, or the ol' big cheese would have my head."

Your eyes met his warm chestnut ones. Alastor could practically see the way you brushed away your silly concerns in your head, a soft smile once again gracing your lips. 

He knew you were confused as to why his boss supposedly needed him at work on a Sunday.

He knew you wanted to ask why.

He knew that, at least some part of you, didn't fully believe that he was headed off to the radio station. 

If you were smart you'd have listened to it.

But you were his wife. 

So you simply nodded in understanding, moving closer to where Alastor stood. You made to grab for the suit jacket that still hung on his arm but the tall man was quick to pull it high above your reach.

"Not so fast there, darling." He teased, smiling down at you.

"It's cold out, dear. I'll help you put your coat on," You insisted, small, delicate hands reached up for the jacket.

Alastor stepped back from you, briefly tapping his fingertip against your nose. "And who said I was in any hurry to cover up this lovely new shirt my wife got for me?" He teased, snapping the suspenders he wore against the crisp white shirt.

He simply adored it when he made heat color your soft cheeks. He loved seeing proof of his effect on you.

His eyes drifted to the clock behind you, his smile straining just a tiny bit when he realized what time it was.

He'd miss his mark if he wasted any more time here.

"In any case, darling, I really do have to dash," He smiled back at you, already heading towards the door before you could say anything else. "But do keep yourself free, baby. I'll be back before you know it." He shot a wink at you.

He grabbed his hat from the coat rack and plopped it neatly on his head, then he was out the door in a second. 

Alastor let out a short, tired breath.

Sometimes, he did find your love to be a bit tiring. But he supposed, at the moment, it was still worth much more than the hassle it caused him.

He hurriedly strolled down the street, smiling and greeting everyone that passed by him politely. His ego stroked just a little bit with every flustered dame.

He didn't care for any of them, but he never grew tired of knowing the charming effect he had on people.

Alastor tried to clear his head of you as he hopped into a taxi. He laughed as the cabby recognized him almost immediately, but he didn't pay the man any mind as he yapped about how much of a fan he was.

Instead, he found that his thoughts have annoyingly strayed back to you. He's found that you've been so persistently present in his mind lately.

One would think that sounded so romantic, that he was a cold man finally falling for a sweet little thing.

But in reality he was weighing his options.

You've always been so behaved, so meek.

He found you endearing, that much was true.

You were great company, after all. You loved the same music he did, kept up with his dancing, and sang so beautifully along whenever he tickled the ivory keys.

You dressed up to compliment his style, even if it wasn't to your comfort. Smiled at all the wretched people, even as they gossiped behind your back. Perfectly prepared and happily ate every dish he liked, even stranger ones you found hard to stomach.

Because you shaped yourself to be his partner. You did everything and anything that you could to gain his approval.

And that was indeed endearing. The lengths you went to, just to hear a simple praise from him.

Alastor used to wonder if there was ever a limit to it, but as the times flew by he realized you were just too happy to rewrite even your own logic just to stay by his side.

And it was also true that you were a brilliant cover.

As a taken man, there were much less people prying into his life as opposed to when he was an eligible bachelor. And no odd rumors ever spread about him thanks to how behaved you were.

People saw him as soft, gentle, caring. Because a violent, murderous, psycho could never keep a delicate little thing like you as his wife, could he?

Yes, you definitely had your perks. That much he already knew.

But you've been so restless lately. So oddly, insistent on being by his side more. 

He'd tried to talk it out of you. Whispered how he was so lucky that you weren't like other wives. How you trusted him and respected his space. How you didn't nag him like a terrible partner would.

And it worked...for a while.

Until you've been fixated on getting the darn basement door open, at least. Somehow, you had it stuck in your brain that opening that stupid lock would have proved your worth to him.

You've been visiting that mug of a shopkeep at the locksmiths so often that Alastor just simply had to get rid of him already. He returned the useless tools he sold you last time too of course. He didn't quite like others making a fool out of what was his.

Only he could do that.

The cab stopped by a rather classy bar, the driver letting out a low whistle, going on about how they also wished that they could live up the big life.

Alastor tipped him generously, bidding him a great day as he stepped out.

He tossed his jacket on quickly before he adjusted his bowtie in the reflective glass window of the building. This was, he thought, his second favorite part of it all.

For such a detached man, Alastor loved many things.

He loved meeting his victims for the first time in person. The thrill of so many eyes on him as he clasped their clammy palms in greeting.

He loved talking to them, watching their eyes light up as he mentioned what they wanted the most. That moment where he knew he had hit the nail on the head and found out exactly what made these scum tick.

He loved using it against them, luring them to a false sense of security.

And, his absolute favorite part, he loved dragging the sharp edge of his knife against the skin of their necks. The lovely shade of red bleeding down their stiffening bodies.

He just can't help but love—

"My darling?" A voice—your voice—rung out in the dark alley. 

There wasn't time. There was no time to hide the body, toss the knife, flee from the scene.

There was no time to come up a with a story, a lie, a cover.

Because you were right there, standing in the alley with him. His blood stained hands and the corpse by his feet plainly in your view.

Even with the blood smudged on the lenses of his glasses, he could see the fear in your eyes, the gears turning in your head as you tried to process the scene in front of you.

It's a real shame. Earlier today he had decided that you still had more purpose to serve him. That he could still put up with you. That he would still be able to stomp out whatever stubborn will riled you up lately.

Clearly that wasn't the case anymore.

"Now, now, dearest," He started, hand reaching out to you as he held the knife still in his hand.

Your feet moved, but to Alastor's shock you ran to him.

Your panicked eyes took in the violent red that stained the pristine white shirt as you took his outstretched hand in both of yours.

"We should go," You hurriedly whispered, fearful eyes met his confused ones. "You can't be seen here."

You tugged him along the streets, careful to keep yourself in front of him as you tried to hide most parts of him stained with red.

Alastor's eyes were wide, his long legs working on their own as he tried to understand what exactly was happening.

"Dearest?" He whispered to catch your attention. "I just chopped off a man, you know that, right?" 

Your steps didn't falter as you hurried along, but you didn't turn your head to look at him either.

"Yes," You responded. The tight knot against your throat kept you from saying anything more.

"I sliced his throat open," Alastor continued to prod more. "His blood is all over me, in fact."

You whip your head around in urgency. You meant to shut him up. You meant to warn him not to talk so loud, that you couldn't be too sure who could be around to overhear.

But when your fearful eyes met his calm, warm, sweet, ones you ended up swallowing against your dry throat. Adorning a shaky smile instead.

"And I'm sure you did it to keep yourself safe, dear." You said, although it seemed as though you were trying to convince yourself of that.

It was as if a light bulb lit up in Alastor's head. He finally understood what was happening. He fought against his own body to keep himself from smiling as he stared into your uncertain eyes.

"I knew you'd understand," He feigned a sigh. His hand, that was previously unresponsive in yours, curled its fingers to hold onto you. "I knew I would be safe with you, my darling wife."

Alastor noted the way your stiff shoulders slacked at his words. As if you were waiting for his praise; as if you were waiting for that little bit of confirmation to fully push away all those pesky, silly, little doubts you held.

As if you were begging to have the slightest bit of reason to cling onto, to prove that there was no cause to leave your spot beside him.

"If anyone asks," You said softly, your hand reached out to wipe away the little bit of blood on his cheek. "I'll tell them you came home early to me. You did promise that you would come back quickly, anyway."

Alastor smiled down at you, letting himself lean into your touch as you seemed to love it when he does. "I am so lucky that you love me, doll."

You continued to lead him down the streets, sticking to less lit areas as you did so.

Alastor couldn't stop the grin from spreading widely across his face.

Because you did love him. You loved Alastor with all your sanity it seemed, but he was, unfortunately, far too happy to take advantage of that.

It was a huge weight off his shoulders really. 

Alastor enjoyed the hunt, the kill, but the clean up? Not so much.

While yes, he did enjoy tricking people into eating up his stories, misdirecting them this way and that, silently mocking how clueless they were. It was still such a pain to have to constantly make sure his stories were air tight. 

He didn't have to do that anymore, though. Not when all his darling wife had to do was smile shyly at people and hint that he was back home all night busy with more usual pleasures.

It wasn't even that hard to convince you to let him stay out late, hunt to his heart's content.

It was all just bad, terrible people. Scum of the earth. Dangers that could hurt you, or others. And Alastor, the dashing, selfless, secret knight in shinning armor was willing to dirty his hands if it meant keeping people safe. He'd taken on the burden so everyone else didn't have to.

Your husband, a great, tragic hero.

And besides, it's not like he asked you to kill someone. All you had to do was lie a little. Nothing grand, nothing elaborate—he wasn't so sure you'd be able to handle it after all—just smile, and hint, and spread a few insignificant white lies. 

It was easy enough, wasn't it?

And your little love for him did everything else. Your own lovesick mind fought your instincts without Alastor even doing much of anything else.

You convinced yourself so quickly that all this blood, all this violence, all this murder, just made your husband an even greater man.

Ah, he truly did love the way you loved him.

You were with him now down in the basement—Alastor conveniently finally figured out how to open the stubborn padlock—and if he was being honest, he never really imagined you joining him here.

Well, not alive anyway.

You watched him as he neatly packed the most latest body into a bag and burn the gloves he used during the act. Going through his simple routine to make sure he could continue to get away scot-free.

Alastor noticed how your eyes always averted from the corpses, insistent on staying on his form instead. He didn't really mind it, but oh did he enjoy that little spark of fear you worked hard to stomp down whenever your glance landed on a limb or two. 

He heaved the bag over his shoulder, before finally fully turning to you. "Well, let's get a move on, shall we, darling?" He smiled cheerfully, motioning with his arm for you to head up the stairs first.

You were glad to do so it seemed, you always were. You didn't have to watch your husband dispose of bodies, but Alastor found it rather cathartic how you've now started to cringe away from the basement door, after weeks of pestering him over opening it.

A little lesson, he thought. Well deserved. 

And look how behaved you were now again.

The walk to the nearby woods was uneventful. Silent. Routine.

Unlike the first time around he dragged you along. You kept wondering and wondering until you finally asked out loud how Alastor knew the streets so well. How he knew where to go where no one would see him. The man you saw him kill was the first one, wasn't he?

He laughed at your unsure smile, brushing your worries off with the flimsiest excuses. How he'd been home late so many times already because of work. How he just preferred to take the quieter roads so as to decompress from all his adoring fans—fans who weren't you.

And it was enough.

Because you foolishly trusted him. You wanted to believe him, and so you did.

Alastor hummed cheerfully as he continued to shovel dirt over his most recent victim. He was certainly far enough into the woods not to care too much about being overheard, anyway.

A sudden soft beeping noise joined his melody, and he looked down at his—rather expensive—watch.

"Would you look at the time! I hadn't realized it was already so late. Time surely flies when you're saving the world, right, darling?" He looked over his shoulder at your unsure form.

You stood hunched over, your back against a tree, and your arms wrapped around yourself, a fair distance from the man burying a body.

Your eyes avoided the hole in the dirt as you painted a strained smile on your face. 

Saving the world.

Alastor could practically see the way you tried to remind yourself that that is what your husband was doing.

"It's hard to keep track when you've got a lot do," You vaguely answer, choosing your words carefully.

It's not that you worried Alastor would do anything to you. But you were, unknowingly, cautious of any single thing that could trigger any more silly concerns within yourself.

Alastor hummed in response, his eyes staring at the mangled corpse he threw in the ditch. "They'll be looking for me at work if I don't show up soon, though." He thought out loud. "But I can't exactly leave this rotten stiff like this, can I?"

He sounded troubled. He looked troubled, with that wrinkle between his brow.

A good wife would soothe him.

A good wife wouldn't stand around watching her spouse do all the hard work.

He didn't need to say it though, not that he had any mind to. You heard his voice in your head regardless. 

Your timid, unsure voice spoke up. "I...I could stay behind and continue burying it?" It sounded like a question.

One that it seemed like you hoped the answer was no. 

Except you'd be a horrible wife for thinking that. You should be praying that he'd say yes.

After all, a good wife would do anything to help her husband.

Alastor froze for a second, his eyes catching yours from above his glasses before he adjusted them up his nose. 

Then you were rewarded with a smile.

"My darling wife, always so helpful," He cooed, walking towards you. He dropped the shovel to the ground and wrapped his arms around your waist, almost lovingly.

Alastor could feel how fast your heart beat in your chest, almost fighting to get out. "But I could never ask a lovely doll like you to do such a dirty job like this." He tsked as he looked down at you.

"I can handle it, my dear," You responded, eyes bright with stars at his praises. It was almost as if you'd forgotten what exactly it was you were agreeing to.

Alastor pretended to think for a moment, but his eyes caught sight of the watch on his wrist and decided he didn't exactly have time to enjoy playing with you more.

"Only if you promise not to get caught, my darling." He smiled down at you, and you quickly nodded, promising you'll do a good job and meet him at home.

He pressed his cold lips chastely against your forehead, and left you with a corpse in the woods to bury.

But it's just that, anyway. Nothing too much to ask for.

It's not like you killed him.

And he was probably a horrible person to begin with.

Right?

You brushed away the heavy, gnawing feeling, as you met the glassy unseeing eyes of the corpse in the ground.

Alastor surely knew what he was doing. And you loved him enough to do this simple thing to help with that.

Just as you shoveled in one patch of dirt to cover the man's eyes, you heard a loud gun shot echo through the early morning woods.

You jumped out of your skin, cold hands gripping the shovel as the sound rung out.

Your heart was at your throat as goosebumps littered your skin. 

Alastor.

You ran. You barely registered your own body moving until you felt the cold air whipping against your face as your legs carried you to where your husband went.

Worry. It all but consumed you, as your blood rushed loudly in your ears and your heart pounded.

Please be okay. Please be okay.

Please—

You didn't know what you were doing. You didn't recall it. You didn't feel any of it.

You remembered seeing your husband's body collapsed and bloodied on the forest floor.

You remembered seeing someone with a gun standing panicked over him. 

But no, you didn't remember when you ran at the culprit.

You didn't remember the feeling of stabbing the shovel into their side, nor the warmth of their blood as it splashed on your cold skin.

You didn't remember bashing the steel against their skull with all your might; the metal dented and morphed as it disfigured the man's face.

You didn't remember screaming until your throat was raw. You didn't remember the tears scrolling down your bloodied cheeks. You didn't remember the horrible, unbearably cold, ache in your chest.

You didn't remember staring down the barrel of a shaky gun.

You didn't remember dying.

All you remembered, was the feeling of Alastor's warm arms embracing you as he pressed his welcoming lips to your forehead. 

And how you knew you'd never feel it again.

At least, you didn't think you would.

You blinked in confusion as you stared up the man—thing?—that caught you in their arms like a bride.

"I guess someone ought to rewrite those wedding vows because death didn't seem to do us part!" It laughed. Its voice sounded as if you were merely listening to it from a radio.

No, wait. Sure the thing that caught you also laughed, but you could have sworn you heard a whole crowd do so as well. Strangely, almost like a laugh track.

It's sharp yellow teeth showed proudly as it grinned down on you, and you couldn't help but cringe away a tiny bit from fear.

What are you? You wanted to ask, but you knew better than to be blunt.

You wouldn't want those nasty paper folk to catch wind of Alastor's little wife being rude—

Except. Were you still his wife? Where was he anyway? Where were you?

The thing that held you laughed cheerfully as it gently set you down onto your own feet. "Darling, I will never get enough of how easy you are to read," The thing said, twirling it's cane—microphone?—in it's hand before it leaned on it to study you. 

You got a strangely familiar heavy feeling in your gut, but before you could think much of it, your arm was looped through its as it pulled you along to a shop window.

"It seems you're a tiny bit confused, my darling," It said with a bright smile. "It's alright, you weren't always the brightest bulb in the room, but you certainly made up for it with your passion." It chuckled, once again a laugh track following its words from seemingly nowhere.

You felt the tip of its microphone at your chin, tilting it so that you'd turn your gaze from him to the shop window.

You almost jumped away, like an animal not recognizing itself in the mirror.

It took you a minute to realize that you looked at your own reflection.

You even waved your hands around and tilted your head to make sure it followed your movements. To make sure this was real.

You looked nothing like yourself. Hell, you looked nothing human.

"Truthfully, I'm a little offended, dear." The thing beside you spoke up, now turning to his own reflection as he adjusted his bowtie and dusted off his red pinstriped suit. Something oddly familiar.

"It took me less than a second to recognize you, and you still seem to not even know who I am." It said, glancing at you from the corner of its bright red eyes.

Your gaze trailed up to the top of its red hair, seeing two small horns—at least that's what you thought they were. 

"The devil?" You asked cautiously, still confused. "Am I in Hell?"

It let out a hum at your response. "One of two. I suppose it's one of your better shots, my dear." It said.

It turned to face you, suddenly leaning down close, so as to have it's mouth right by your ear. Your body freezes on instinct as it spoke.

"Must I really bed you again for you to remember me, darling? Or would watching me bury another body be enough to jog your memory?"

You leaned back, only enough to catch a look at the thing's face. The knowing eyes that seemed so warm, so inviting, so charming, despite how monstrous they looked. The smile that seemed incapable of falling.

The familiar feeling that brewed in your gut.

"Alastor?" You asked, your now clawed hands reached up to caress his cheeks, and the thing—your husband—leaned into it. His eyes briefly closed.

"Took you long enough, really." He said, a joking exasperation in his tone. 

The thing—your husband, you had to remind yourself again—abruptly pulled away, his tone bright and cheery as he began to drag you along the streets with a heavy clawed hand on the small of your back. "Now enough of that! Time for more important business, darling!"

"Wait, Alastor? How? What?" You stammered, attempting to pull away to take a second to breathe and clear your head.

The hand that guided you slid to the side of your waist, pulling you tightly against it's Alastor's side. "Ah, my darling thing. Always so slow on the uptake." He shook his head as if he found it adorable. "We're in Hell, dear!"

The words rang loudly in your ears, your heart sinking to your stomach.

"And we have important business to take care of, yes indeed!" Alastor continued, not letting you process a single thought. "And for this, I'll need a partner I can trust! I'll need a partner who I can rely on! I'll need someone absolutely devoted to me." His eyes met yours but he saw how the alarm still outweighed his words.

His eyes narrowed, lowering his face abruptly to yours, to the point where you could feel his breath on your skin. He wanted your attention, all of it, and didn't really care all that much about what else you had to think about.

"Hellooo? Anybody home?" He joked, tilting his head as he saw your eyes come back to focus on him. "Ah, there you are, dear. Thought I lost you for a moment."

You supposed you could think things through later. Even if Alastor looked terribly different now, this was still your caring husband after all. And he needed something.

A devoted parter? Was that what he said?

"Well, you know I'm always here for you, Al. Whatever this plan of yours is." You tried to paint a smile on your lips as you always have.

"Oh, but how exactly do I know that?" Alastor stood back up to his full height, his head tilting as he smiled down at you.

Your brows furrow. You don't quite know how to tell him that. You swore you've done so much for this man, and yet when trying to think of an example, none came to mind.

You cooked and cleaned and looked pretty for him? Spent time with him? Loved him? Lie for him? Hide a body for him? That's just what a good wife would do.

But you supposed—you think—you killed for him.

"I avenged you?" It came out more of a question than an answer. "I killed for you."

Alastor didn't blink as he responded. "Then do it again."

Your mouth ran dry.

Had you heard him correctly? Was it a joke?

You waited for the laugh track to play but none came.

"What do you mean...exactly?" You asked with a nervous laugh, your lips straining to keep the smile.

"Kill for me again," Alastor casually said. He turned, eyes locking onto a random demon further down the street you walked along on. He raised his microphone to point at them, turning his head—unnaturally—to face you again.

"Like that one. I suppose he'll do." His tone was still as cheerful as ever.

You follow to where he pointed, eyes hesitantly looking at the creature. 

You quickly looked back up to meet your husband's gaze. That feeling was there again.

And you weren't sure if it was the fact that you just died, or the sheer lunacy of the request, but you finally realized what it was.

Doubt.

You doubted Alastor.

"Why?" Your voice was small. "Is he a bad person too?"

Alastor rolled his eyes. "Hell, if I know dear. I've only just seen him now. But we are in Hell, you know?" His shoulders casually shrugged as if he didn't really care. "So, maybe?"

You tried to hide the tremble in your voice. Tried to hide how you doubted him. "But I already killed for you. Why do I need to prove my devotion even more?"

"You killed out of passion, darling. It hardly counts." He laughed, as if you were being so silly.

You're left with even more questions when Alastor grabbed your wrist, and you melted into shadows before re-appearing right in front of your supposed victim.

"What the fuck?" They exclaimed, jumping back.

"Good day, good fellow! The name's Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you, quite the pleasure!" Your darling husband stepped in front and forcibly shook the confused sinner's hand.

Alastor waved a hand in your direction to showcase you. "This right here is the Mrs., and she'll be killing you now."

You flinched as Alastor's voice further distorted.

Black tentacles wrapped around the now thrashing demon. And to your horror, you realized they came from your still-grinning husband's back.

His red eyes now consumed by black as he looked down at you expectantly.

"I...I don't have a knife." You avoided his eyes and looked away.

Alastor's head tilted. "You have claws now, dear."

You felt bile raise to your throat at the idea of ripping some stranger apart with your own hands.

"It'd be terribly difficult if these clothes get stained. Who knows where I could get new ones in...Hell." You had to spit the word out. "A-and, we're out in the open. Anyone can see us, there might be police here o-or their friends and family."

"You won't do it." Alastor cut off your rambling, more of a statement than a question.

You didn't meet his eyes.

You heard him sigh in dismay. "Well, it's alright, my dear. I suppose I knew your love for me had its limits."

Your eyes widen in shock, head whipping to look at him in panic. There was disappointment in his gaze as he looked away from you. Even as his smile remained painted on his lips, you could see how he seemed to shrink away from you.

"That's not true!" You half yelled, ignoring the struggling demon still held off the ground. "I'd go to the ends of the earth for you. I'd give up my life for you. I followed you to Hell, even! How could you even think that my love for you isn't boundless, Alastor?"

"Because it isn't." He sighed, his clawed hand gripped his microphone tight as he started to walk around you. "You say you'd do anything for me, that you'd give everything up for me. But I'm asking you for something so simple, and you couldn't even do that."

Your shoulders stiffen, you try to turn your head to follow him around. "This is not simple, Alastor." You said, a tinge of hysteria creeping into your voice. "You're asking me to kill someone for you, again."

"Wrong." Your husband said in a rather, sing-song manner. A jarring buzzer effect played at his words.

"I'm asking you to kill someone who is already dead." Alastor explained, barely paying mind to the sinner who now just looked very uncomfortable. "And you're already in Hell."

He looked at you as if you were stupid not to have put this together yourself. "He won't lose anything. You won't lose anything. There is nothing to give up with this tiny request of mine."

He stopped walking in front of you, but a greater deal of distance away now than when he started.

"And yet you can't even do that, my love."

You glanced down at your hands—your claws—in uncertainty.

That persistent feeling—doubt—swallowed you whole as you stood there willing your body not to move.

You should stop.

Run.

Never look back.

But instead your body moved toward the sinner; sharp, shaking, hands hesitatingly sinking into their flesh.

Once. Twice. Thrice. You couldn't be useless to your husband.

Their muffled screams sounded so far away from you, even as they yelled right by your ears.

You felt it.

Their skin giving way and the blood dampening your clothes each and every time you sank your soft, delicate, clawed hands into him.

The feeling of your long claws coming into contact and tearing through whatever bone or muscle stood in their way.

The awful, gut wrenching, guilt that swallowed your chest.

You hated it.

Alastor's hand clasps affectionately at your shoulder as he watched you cheerfully. Enjoying the conflict in your eyes as your heart died with every drop of blood that spilled from your hands.

"I think I may have just fallen so deeply in love with you, my dear wife." He cooed into your ear.

And your chest didn't flutter, or grow, or skip a beat like you had thought it would at those words.

But it's probably just the guilt, right?

It's just because so much has happened that you couldn't process anything.

Because you still loved Alastor, didn't you?

You loved him with your very soul, but he was a liar, and you may have finally started to see it.

Taglist @lil-bexie / @mizukikyong / @amurtan / @fokrilove / @fairyv-ice 

[b4nka1]

my favorite animated men and random things they do when jealous and want to grab your attention!

warnings: suggestive content (mentions of smut), misogyny, toji being nice, jjk manga spoilers. not proofread.

— FUSHIGURO TOJI : he would pout as you were busy with your office work. sure, you did love him, but your work was your priority for now. he would slowly walk into your room, standing behind you as you worked. he'd start massaging your shoulders, and within seconds, your eyes closed and body relaxed. "mmh, just right, baby..." you whispered to toji, you was still carefully and gently massaging your shoulders.

"if you gave me a tad bit more attention, i'd make you feel far far better, princess..."

— RYOMEN SUKUNA : he grumbled in annoyance when you paid no attention to him. the king of curses wanted to be mad but couldn't because you were so happy playing with the new puppy he'd gotten for you. you were laughing and giggling as the puppy kept whining and climbing over you. he got the most jealous when you kissed the puppy on its yucky, disgusting mouth, according to him. within seconds, he took the puppy from your hands and put the puppy back in his crate. he turned back towards you, picking you up and dragging you to the bathroom to make you brush your teeth.

"why'd you kiss that puppy on its disgusting mouth? now i can't kiss you without feeling disgusted."

— GOJO SATORU : he was pretty much annoyed at the fact that you were paying more attention to the three freshers than him. he scowled at megumi, who was getting more interest from your end. he was beyond irritated at this point. he sure was jealous but didn't admit it, not even to himself.bhe had to butt in, of course. his possessive ass simply couldn't handle the fact that you're quite nice and friendly. he stomped over to you, with a tiny pout on his face and his brows furrowed together.

"they're my students, but i hate the attention you're giving them."

— KUROSAKI ICHIGO : isn't exactly the type to get jealous, but he is very possessive. whenever he notices another man, especially abarai renji talking to you, he would ever so casually walk over to you, wrapping an arm around your waist. he'd indulge himself in the conversation, laughing and nodding with whatever was going on. his arms would then creep down your back slowly as the conversation proceeded. he'd ever so subtly squeeze your butt and act as if nothing happened after he did so. when renji notices, he takes a leave and waved goodbye to you. you turn to ichigo and scold him for doing so.

"what? i'm just squeezing what belongs to me, you don't get to scold me on that."

— GETO SUGURU (villain era, you're not on his side) : he is a calm and collected man. but when he notices you and satoru being too close physically, practically invading each other's personal space, a smile and a bulging vein of anger on his forehead is prominent on his face. he silently swore to get you fucked raw before the war broke out. mimiko immediately notices this and huffs, "why don't you already go claim what's yours?" she snorts, going back to doing something on her phone.

"well, she will suffer. so what if we drifted apart? who is she to move on from me? she's still mine."

— NANAMI KENTO : he had been working overtime and came home late. to make matters worse, he found you on a long ass call with one of your guy friends, who used to like you. dismissing the jealousy, he took a shower and ate the dinner you prepared for him. and to make matters even worse, you were laughing at something he told you about. he was clearly frustrated and irritated, and of course, jealous of your little guy friend. when he had enough, he snatched the phone from you, putting it to his ear,

"either you end the call or hear me fuck her dumb and make her scream my name."

— ZARAKI KENPACHI : despite his rough and tough demeanor, poor guy also gets jealous of you spending time with ikkaku and yumichika. he tries his best not to show it as a kenpachi but fails when yachiru notices it. "ken-chan, don't worry, i gor your back!" she giggled happily. she searched around the seireitei and finally found you casually hanging out with yumichika. she walked over to you and held your hand. you raised your brows in surprise when she tugged you to the direction of the squad 11 barracks. she pushed you into zaraki's room, closing it behind her. zaraki sighed, hugging your waist.

"sorry, i kinda felt...jealous but didn't show it because of my status...i'll buy yachiru some treats for helping me."

— ABARAI RENJI : has his zanpakuto ready in its shikai state when you were found talking to ichigo. he angrily stomped over before byakuya stopped him. "they're just friends." he told renji and ordered him to sheathe his zanpakuto. renji grumbled and followed his order, stomping towards you, with a small pout on his face. he kept on giving ichigo glares until he took the signal and left.

"next time i see that piece of shit, i'm making him watch me pound into you."

— ZENIN NAOYA : oh boy, this misogynistic bastard wasn't ready to accept the fact that he was being jealous because his stupidly handsome cousin toji was being nice to you, complete contrast of how naoya usually treats you. toji helped you in the kitchen, he helped you with cleaning and helped you do the laundry. but naoya lost it when toji's arm wrapped around you instinctively as you were about to slip and fall. naoya grumbled, waiting until toji was out of sight. he pulled you by your kimono to his room, slamming you ruthlessly into the bed.

"that bastard crossed the line. might as well show him who this pretty but useless wife belongs to."

— KINJI HAKARI : is chill on the outside but the anger is bubbling within him inside as he watched your yoga instructor from afar being too touchy with you. his let out a low growl when he placed a hand on your hip and squeezed the skin. hakari had enough when the yoga instructor smirked and placed a hand on your inner thigh to "fix your posture," rubbing it sensually. you were too innocent to notice that. in a flash, hakari punched him square on the nose, stomping on the scum's face before leaving with you.

"he doesn't know.who he's messing with. we are finding you a new instructor. this one's gonna be fed to the curses."

— KAMO CHOSO : is a VERY pouty baby. yuji was his brother, yes, but that didn't mean you spend the whole day with him when you met him for the first time. it almost felt as though you and yuji were a couple and choso was the third wheel. after the whole day passed by, you and.choso went back to your shared apartment. he immediately went into the bedroom, snuggling under the xxovers and crying into the pillows. when you went into the bedroom, you noticed what's happening and frowned, rubbing his back and asking him what happened.

"i-i felt so left out today, bub... i-i know yuji is my brother b-but i needed you a-attention..."

— HIGURUMA HIROMI : he sighs once he comes back home after a long day. he put his bag on the coffee table in the living room before going into the kitchen, finding you there with your 2 month old baby, putting her to sleep. higuruma pouted as he wanted you all to himself tonight, but your baby had different plans. it took you great effort to rock her to sleep, eventually putting her in a crib and walking back into the living room, hugging him tightly. he returned the long hug, sighing in content and rubbing your back.

"didn't know i'd be so envious of our own princess, baby..."⁹

–

hope yall like it!

[moonstruckme]

Sirius Black Drabbles

☁︎ = headcanon ✩ = 18+, mdni ♡ = mae's favs

Sirius falls in love with your cat ☁︎

Sirius with a black cat!reader ☁︎

Sirius with a shy but physically affectionate you ☁︎

Sirius x chatty!reader ☁︎

Sirius and James both like you ☁︎

Sirius and whimsical reader talk astrology ☁︎

You worry Sirius may leave you ☁︎

Sirius x coquette!reader ☁︎

Sirius x curly haired!reader dying her hair ☁︎

Sirius has a crush on you ☁︎

You paint your nails to match Sirius' (he's weak for it)

Sirius teaches you about your curly hair

You struggle with eating, and Sirius distracts you

Sirius can't get enough of you ♡

Rockstar!Sirius comes to see you after his show

Bodyguard!Sirius confesses to princess!reader

Sirius helps when you dissociate after a traumatic event

You're Sirius' biggest hype woman

You get Sirius a customized motorcycle helmet, and he's totally soft for it

Sirius lords his French (and your lack thereof) over you

You and Sirius are the poster couple of defying gender roles

Big brother!Sirius when you get beat up

Fwb!Sirius urges you to de-stress

Sirius loves you (and, secondly, your warm softness)

Sirius gets a tattoo of your name

Sirius is your (occaisionally airheaded) pretty boy

Bodyguard!Sirius saves you from a kidnapping attempt

Sirius takes care of you after a night out

Ceo!Sirius is soft only for you

Sirius gets a lesson in casual misogyny

Sirius is totally flustered by coquette!reader

Sirius finds you sleeping in his clothes

You're unsure about your Christmas gift to Sirius

You can't fathom Sirius liking you (he definitely does) ♡

Sirius thinks your scar is adorable

Sirius does secret magic tricks for whimsical!reader ♡

Sirius offers some study help when you're stressed

Sirius coddles you after you get a piercing

Sirius helps you through a panic attack | cont.

Fwb!Sirius gets a tad jealous

Player!Sirius likes that you're a red flag ♡

You and Sirius get rough in bed

Bartender!Sirius takes a liking to you ♡

You're overwhelmed by love for Sirius

You do Sirius' makeup

You're sensitive, and Sirius gives good hugs

Sirius is obsessed with your back dimples

Sirius is stern about motorcycle safety

Sirius gives you a massage

You're easily spooked and Sirius is protective

You won't admit you're mad at Sirius

Sirius hurts shy!reader's feelings

You only want Sirius when you're hurt

Prince!Sirius x princess!reader

Prince!Sirius meets princess!reader He's your first time ☁︎✩ He flirts with you at a ball He takes you out on the town He helps you study for a dinner

Sirius is attacked by a drunk you

Sirius takes care of you when you're sick ♡

Rockstar!Sirius helps with your homesickness ♡

A buzzed Sirius takes care of you when you green out

You and Sirius talk family trauma

Sirius helps you get over your fear of dogs

You won't let Sirius touch you when you have cramps

Sirius wants you to be gentle with yourself

Sirius is enamored with whimsical!reader ♡

Sirius helps you to quit smoking weed

Plus size!you find Sirius in your clothes

You confess feverishly to fwb!Sirius ♡

Tattoo artist!Sirius gives you your first ink ♡

Big brother!Sirius comforts you after a breakup

Sirius is obsessed with your belly button piercing

Sirius helps hearing impaired!reader at a loud party

Whimsical!reader gets into a scrape with Padfoot ♡

You accidentally confess your love for your friend Sirius

Sirius reassures an inexperienced you

Bartender!Sirius steps in when you're roofied

A sleepy Sunday with Sirius

Sirius paints his nails to match your lips

Sirius patches you up

Sirius barters to get back on your good side

Sirius is obsessed with your lipstick ♡

Sirius is your neighbor, and your building's fire alarm goes off

Rockstar!Sirius is protective when your drink is spiked

Bodyguard!Sirius protects you from the cold

Sirius tries to say "I love you" (with some trial and error) ♡

Sirius reassures you that sex isn't shameful ✩

Doting aftercare with Sirius ✩♡

You're catching feelings for fwb!Sirius ✩ | cont ✩

Ceo!Sirius fits you into his schedule ✩

You and Sirius (lovingly) fight for dominance ✩

Sirius gets acquainted with your vibrator ✩

Sirius is your first time ✩