#[touches the ground] something...happened here

[twistersobsessed]

I seen you were asking for Scott request!

Reader and Scott are engaged and she's best friends with Tyler in this...

While on a chase everyone stops to refuel bathroom break get food. Reader is talking to Kate when a guy starts to hit on her. She politely tells him she's engaged then turns back to Kate. The guy doesn't take the hint and doesn't care and keeps on making comments(I'm thinking there's a bar close by and the guy is drunk) so the reader gets more firm with him tells him to back off he grabs her arms pushes her against the van and back hands her. Scott and Tyler see this and high tale it over there Scott punches the guy a few time tyler checks in the reader. The reader has a gash on her face from his ring and a hand print on her arm. The reader gets Scott off the guy. He sees the marks ask Kate to go get her some ice while he cleans the gash. Then something fluffy while he's taking care of her.

Hands Off | Scott x Reader

The tension between Storm Par and the Wranglers had certainly improved since you and Scott had gotten engaged. It was like bringing two families together that hated each other. That’s not even accounting for Kate, who had started with Storm Par and ended up a Wrangler.

Your groups were… amicable at best.

Currently, both were stopped at the same gas station, everyone scattered. Some people had gone to the bathroom, some had gone to get food at the gas station. You were standing next to one of the Storm Par vehicles talking to Kate. Then it happened.

A man who is clearly drunk stumbles up to you and Kate and begins to sleazily hit on you. You made it clear you were uncomfortable. “I’m engaged,” you told the man, holding up your left hand and showing off your ring.

“That’s okay, baby. I don’t see him ‘round, and what he doesn’t know won’t hurt em.”

Kate tried to intervene but the man just waved her off. “I’m not talking to you,” he growled. Turning his attention back to you, he leaned in uncomfortably close. “Come on, don’t be a fucking tease. Out here lookin’ like that…”

You bristled. “Get away from me.”

The man didn’t like that at all, and before you even knew what was happening he had slammed you into the side of the Storm Par van and backhanded you across the face. Kate screamed.

Scott and Tyler had seen what had happened from across the lot and raced over in record time. Scott yanked the man off of you, throwing him to the ground and climbing on top of him, landing solid punch after solid punch.

Tyler examined the gash on the side of your face with his jaw angrily locked. He gently grabbed your arm, where the man had grabbed you, and examined the hand print he had left.

“Scott!” you gasped, not wanting him to catch charges. You pushed away from Tyler and placed your hands on Scott’s shoulders. He stilled at the touch.

Slowly, he got off the man he was beating. He rose to his full height before turning to you and pulling you to him. He bent down to examine your face. Upon seeing the gash and hand print, he very nearly turned to continue beating the man, but one look at your face kept him glued to you.

“Kate, will you get me some ice?” Scott asked, gritting his teeth. “Come here, baby.” He led you to his truck and sat you in the passenger seat. He left the door open and you sat so your legs were hanging out of the truck.

Scott crouched down in front of you, taking a cloth he had produced from who knows where, and gently dabbing at the gash on your cheek. Then he disappeared, only to reappear with a first-aid kit.

“This is gonna hurt,” he warned as he poured hydrogen peroxide on some gauze. He dabbed it on your gash and you hissed in pain. “I know, I know, I’m sorry,” Scott mumbled. By the time he finished cleaning it, Kate had returned with ice in a plastic bag.

Scott muttered his thanks and took it from her, holding it up to your cheek. “Keep that on there until I say otherwise,” Scott commanded. Your hand took his hand’s place, holding the makeshift icepack against your face.

That’s when you noticed his knuckles. They were bloody, and whether it was his blood or the man’s, you couldn’t tell.

“Scotty…” you frowned, concerned. Scott followed your gaze and flexed his hands. “I’m fine, baby,” he assured you. The shock of everything wore off and you felt tears pooling in your eyes.

“Oh, honey,” Scott frowned, reaching up and wiping away a tear with his thumb.

“Don’t cry. I’ll never let anyone put their hands on you ever again.”

[dovesdreaming]

Shadows of the night

Summary: you wake up from a nightmare to discover Loki gone. Panicked, you go searching for him seeking comfort.

Request

Masterlist

-

You jolted awake, gasping for breath as the remnants of the nightmare clung to your mind like thick, suffocating smoke. Your heart pounded wildly in your chest, and a cold sweat coated your skin. Frantic, you reached out to the opposite side of the bed, searching for the comforting presence of Loki. But the space beside you was cold and empty. The panic that had gripped you in your dream flared anew, your pulse quickening as your hand slid over the sheets, finding nothing but absence. Blinking in the dark, you sat up, the shadows of your nightmare still lurking in the corners of your vision. A tight knot formed in your throat. Where was he?Swallowing hard, you swung your legs over the side of the bed and stood up, your feet barely making a sound against the floor as you padded out of the bedroom. The halls of the tower were eerily silent at this late hour, the only noise your own shaky breathing as you searched for Loki. It was unlike him to be away from your side, especially in the dead of night.

As you moved further into the tower, the faintest light flickered beneath the door to his study. Relief washed over you, your legs weak as you hurried toward the door and quietly pushed it open. There he was, Loki, sitting at his desk, his raven hair falling in waves around his face as he focused intently on some parchment laid out before him. The soft glow of candlelight cast shadows across his sharp features, giving him a regal, almost ethereal look, like something out of a dream. Or, more accurately, a nightmare you were desperate to wake from. “Loki…” you breathed, your voice fragile, trembling with the fear you hadn’t yet shaken off.

He immediately looked up, his sharp green eyes narrowing in concern as he took in your disheveled appearance. “Darling, whats wrong?” His voice was gentle, soothing, as he stood and closed the distance between you in seconds. His hands were on your arms, cool and steady, grounding you in the present. “Are you okay?”. You blinked up at him, struggling to find the words as the weight of your fear began to unravel in the safety of his presence. “I had a nightmare” you whispered, your voice thick with lingering panic. “And when I woke up.. you weren’t there”. His expression softened instantly, a tender sort of guilt crossing his features as he pulled you into his arms without hesitation. “Shh” he murmured, his voice like velvet as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to leave you. I thought I’d be back before you woke”.

You buried your face in his chest, your breath still shaky as his scent and warmth surrounded you, calming the frantic beat of your heart. “I…I thought something happened” you admitted, your words muffled against the fabric of his shirt. “I know it sounds silly, but..” “It’s not silly” Loki interrupted softly, his arms tightening around you. He gently stroked your hair, his fingers weaving through the strands in a familiar, comforting rhythm. “You’re safe, and I’m here now”.

You nodded against him, letting his cool touch and steady presence soothe the last of your panic. His fingers trailed down to your back, drawing light circles that eased the tension in your muscles. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. It was just the sound of your breathing, gradually slowing to match his. When you finally pulled back enough to look up at him, Loki gazed down at you with those piercing green eyes, filled not with mischief or arrogance, but with something deeper, something vulnerable and reassuring. He gently cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks. “You’re trembling” he observed, his voice low, a touch of worry lacing his words. “I…I still feel it” you admitted quietly. “The fear. It won’t go away”. Loki’s gaze softened even more as he pressed his forehead to yours, his cool breath mingling with your own. “Then let me take it from you” he whispered. “You’ve carried it long enough”.

His magic flared gently in the air between you, subtle and comforting. You felt it wash over you like a cool breeze, easing the tightness in your chest, calming the storm of emotions swirling inside you. It was as if Loki could draw the fear from your very soul, replacing it with a sense of peace only he could give. Slowly, the nightmare’s grip on your mind began to fade, like fog lifting from the shore. You exhaled a long, shaky breath, finally feeling the fear unravel completely. “Thank you” you whispered, your voice small but filled with relief. Loki pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment before he pulled back, his hands still cradling your face. “You never need to thank me” he murmured. “I’ll always be here when you need me”.

For a moment, you just stood there, wrapped in the quiet safety of his presence, the darkness of the nightmare a distant memory now. Loki’s hands never left you, grounding you in the present, anchoring you to him. “Come” he said softly after a while, brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “Let’s go back to bed. You need rest”. You nodded, your body still weak from the emotional toll of the night. But as Loki led you back to your shared bedroom, his hand firmly holding yours, you felt lighter, safer, knowing he was beside you. Once you were both back in bed, Loki pulled you close, wrapping his arm around your waist and letting you rest your head on his chest. His steady heartbeat was a soothing lullaby, his cool skin a comfort against the lingering warmth of anxiety.

“Sleep, my love” he whispered into your hair. “I’ll keep the nightmares at bay”. And for the first time that night, you truly relaxed. As you drifted back into sleep, Loki’s presence wrapped around you like a shield, guarding you from the darkness. With him beside you, you knew no dream, no matter how terrifying, could ever reach you again.

-

Thank you for reading!!

[kpopaussieline]

𝔖𝔞𝔠𝔯𝔦𝔣𝔦𝔠𝔢𝔡 | 𝔗𝔴𝔬

A/N: Ayy part two's here!! I just realised it's been a few weeks since part one, my bad y'all I'm releasing these as I finish them, so updates might be a little slower. I had fun writing this part, I hope you enjoy it!

And a massive thanks to my editor/cheerleader @un06 for everything she's done so far <33

Synopsis: You live in a village where girls are offered to the vampires that live in the woods that border the town. You're next. And you're in for a surprise.

Warnings: None (yet)

Part one / part two

┆✯✡◔♱◔✡︎✯┆

“Oh, you wanna run, gorgeous? Go ahead. We love a game of chase.”

You barely register his words through the pounding in your ears. You’ve never been this afraid. This desperate to get away. Your entire body is thrumming as you sprint toward the road out of Riverfield.

You finally reach it and for a moment you feel a sense of hope. Like maybe you can do this. Maybe you will be okay. You’re aware of the self-generated breeze fanning your face and tousling your hair. You’re aware of your feet barely touching the ground, and it feels like the closest you’ll ever get to flying. It feels like a taste of freedom.

Then you see a flash of movement out of the corner of your eye.

You look. Just a glance.

Your heart almost gives out. You don’t notice much about the man, just that he’s a few feet to your left and quickly gaining on you. You also catch the wicked smile on his face and his black eyes locked on you like an eagle targeting prey.

You push yourself to your limit, willing your legs to move faster.

You hear a chuckle. “Scared, princess?”

Another voice, more confident. “We’re gonna get you, love.”

Your throat seizes up, and you know– heart sinking past your stomach– that he’s right. You’re struggling to breathe, stitches cramping your sides. Your legs ache, feeling heavier with each step. You can’t keep this up much longer.

Tears build in your eyes, blurring your vision as you desperately try to continue running. But you’re slowing down, your body slowly giving up on you.

No. No, no, no. Please.

You feel an arm wrap around your waist and you let out a strangled scream. There’s a split second before you hit the ground. The impact knocks the wind out of your already worn form.

You’re flipped onto your back and the man straddles you, pinning you down. You force your eyes to stay open. Try to focus on his face, his words.

He studies you, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips. He grabs your jaw and tilts your head so you’re meeting his gaze. “Tag,” he says in a low voice. He leans down and whispers, “You’re it.”

Your chest heaves as your consciousness begins to fade.

No. Stay awake, stay awake, stay–

Your eyes flutter closed as you feel all your energy draining away.

The man lets go of your jaw and your head drops to the side. “Sweet dreams, princess.”

***

You wake slowly, drifting away from sleep despite wanting to remain there. Even once you come to, you keep your eyes shut, nestling your face into the pillow and drawing the covers up to your chin. It’s so warm and comfortable here, there’s no way you’re getting up just yet.

You shift onto your back. Pain shoots up your spine and through your limbs. A dull but noticeable ache all over your body. You wince, going still.

Then… gradually… it all comes back to you. It starts with a feeling, like something is off. Then a few murky memories– nothing more than blurry images, like you’re trying to recall a dream. Then everything comes rushing back, hitting you like a truck– the images as vivid as when they were happening.

Sam and Ray. Your nanna. The Offering. Running away. The vampires–

You open your eyes and sit upright, ignoring the pain in your muscles.

The room you’re in is fairly simple. A timber dresser with a mirror hung above it. A large window covered with a lace curtain. The double bed that you are currently in and a rug underneath it.

You tenderly pull back the covers and swing your legs out of bed. You stand cautiously, hoping the floorboards beneath your feet won’t betray your movements. Silence. You tiptoe to the window and peer through the lace at the outside world, wondering where you’ve ended up.

The woods. Of course.

You move the curtain aside and study any possible route for escape. Getting down should be easy. There’s a balcony right there and if needed, you can tie sheets to the railing and climb down. You duck behind the lace curtain and grip the top of the window. You try pushing it up, but it’s jammed. You try again. It still won’t budge. You inspect the frame, eyes narrowing when you spot a translucent yellow stripe connecting the window to the sill.

They sealed the window shut? Jesus.

You run your finger over the material and it feels slightly rubbery. You might be able to cut through it, if you can get your hands on something sharp enough.

There’s a knock on the door and your muscles tense, your body going into fight, flight or freeze. The door swings open and a tall man strolls in like he owns the place (well, technically he does), carrying a plate of food. He uses his foot to close the door behind him, then places the plate on the bedside table. Only then does he finally look at you, sliding his hands into his jean pockets.

“Good morning, sunshine. I figured you’d be hungry.” He nods to the food.

You stare at him for a moment, brows furrowed and suspicion in your gaze as your eyes flick between him and the food. “You really think I’m going to eat that? Who knows what you could’ve put in it.”

He rolls his eyes. “Look, eat it and risk it being poisoned or don’t eat it and starve yourself. Your choice.”  

You blink, surprised by his attitude. You don’t know what you were expecting from a vampire, but it sure as hell wasn’t sass. You quickly gather yourself. “I’m good.”

The man shrugs. “Suit yourself.” He turns and picks the plate up, taking a bite of scrambled egg.

Your caution almost melts away as you continue to stare at him with mild disbelief. This is what you were so terrified of?

“Stop staring,” the man says without looking up. “Didn’t your parents teach you any manners?”

You cross your arms. “Of course they did, but I’m not going to waste them on some bratty vampire.” The words just spill out. You’re so used to using sarcasm, it slips your mind that you’re talking to one of your captors. You freeze again, worried you’ve just pissed him off.

But he just laughs, looking at you. “I’m bratty? I’m simply doing what I have the right to do, seeing as this is my house.”

He puts the plate down, walking slowly around the bed, and you instinctively take a step back.

“You’re like a frightened cat. It’s cute.” He smiles teasingly and it emphasises his youthful features. You hadn’t taken much notice, but he looks young. Like, the kind of young where maybe referring to him as a man is a bit of a stretch. If you had to guess, he’s probably close to eighteen or nineteen.

“What is it?” he asks, stopping a couple feet in front of you. He towers over you, looking down at you curiously. It would be more intimidating if he wasn’t so… normal. He doesn’t appear much different from any other teenage boy. You’re not sure he’s even a vampire.

You clear your throat, looking up at him. “It’s just– I– You–”

His grin widens at your stuttering and it irritates you. You take a second to compose yourself.

“How old are you?” you manage to ask.

He puts his hands in his pockets again. “As in how old should I be, or how old do I look?”

“Um... the second one?”

“Nineteen. What, am I not what you were expecting?”

“Well, not really, no,” you admit.

He smirks. “Let me guess. You were thinking Edward Cullen? Or maybe Dracula?”

Your lips twitch and you almost crack a smile. “No. I don’t know what I was expecting. But it wasn’t you.”

The guy smiles. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“So what’s your name, anyway?”

“You first.”

Really? You cross your arms again. “Y/N.”

His eyes narrow as he thinks something over. “Hm. I’m going to call you neko.”

You frown. “What does that mean?”

“It’s Japanese for cat.”

Your arms fall by your sides. “What? I’m not a cat!” you protest.

“You are now.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“Why are you so offended? Cats are cute.”

“I don’t want a nickname from you.”

“Well now I’m offended,” the guy says, but he’s still smirking.

“Are you going to tell me your name or not?” you shoot back.

“Riki.”

You scoff and he crosses his arms, frowning at you.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” you say, fighting a smile.

He shoves his hands back into his pockets. “Whatever.” He takes a step back, turns around and walks over to the plate of food. He picks it up, then heads for the door. “See you later, neko,” he says on his way out.

You grit your teeth as he shuts the door, not missing the smirk on his face at your reaction.

***

Unfortunately for you, that wasn’t the last time you saw Riki. He came back the next day. And the next.

And now he’s back again, not bothering to wait after knocking before waltzing in.

You look up from your spot on the bed and eyeball today’s meal. It’s a sandwich. A rather delicious looking sandwich, loaded with fillings.

You’d had to give in a couple days ago, when the hunger became too much and you realised you’d have to eat eventually anyway.

Riki hands the plate to you and you take it, picking up the sandwich and taking a large bite.

“Mm… Thanks.” Your voice is muffled as you chew.

“No problem, neko.”

You roll your eyes, but don’t waste energy arguing with him about the new nickname. It seems to have stuck, and it’s probably going to stay that way.

Riki makes himself comfortable on the end of the bed. “The guys are getting impatient.”

You swallow and look up. “What?”

“The others. It’s day four. They’re not going to wait much longer.”

“For what?”

“You may be dumb, but I think you know.”

You ignore the playful jab and glance at the closed door. Yeah. You know. “They want to meet me, huh?”

“That too.”

You frown. “What do you mean, that too?”

Riki pauses for a second. “We’re due to feed again,” he says.

Just this once, you wish he wasn’t so blunt. The sandwich churns in your stomach. “Right.”

“Don’t worry, neko. It’s not as bad as people think. You didn’t even notice last time.”

You squint at him. “Last time?”

 He gestures to your right arm. “The night we took you, we drew some blood while you were passed out.”

You look at your inner elbow, at the faded mark there. It’s just a dot. You’d barely noticed it at first. “You use an IV or something?”

He nods. “Something like that. It’s called venipuncture. It’s the least painful and messy method.”

“Careful there. You almost sounded considerate.”

He chuckles, then the light-hearted sound fades into the silence.

It’s funny. Apparently, there’s six other men in this house, but you’ve never heard signs of any of them. Except Riki. And if you’re being honest with yourself, as irritating as he can be… you enjoy his company. Truthfully, you don’t know what you’d do without him to break up the monotony of the day. If you were just left to sit here for hours on end with nothing to do apart from stare out the window, at the trees and maybe the occasional bird. You’re pretty sure Riki has been the only thing keeping you sane.

“Want me to be honest, Y/N?” Riki asks, breaking the silence.

You sigh. “Not really, but we both know that’s not gonna stop you.”

His lips curl slightly, then his expression goes serious. “You’re right to stay here.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is hide,” you say, pushing the sandwich aside.

“Whatever you want to call it, it’s a smart move. I don’t think you would’ve coped well throwing yourself in the deep end and going out there on the first day.”

You look at him, genuine worry swirling deep in your eyes. “Is it really that bad?” you ask quietly.

Riki studies you and his expression softens. “Depends what you define as bad. But I can assure you, we won’t hurt you. But– that said– the others won’t go easy on you. They’re going to toy with you, try and get in your head, break through any walls you put up until you give in. I’ve been with these guys a long time. I’ve seen a lot of Offerings, a lot of young women just like you in this house, and I know the boys treat this like a competition. Like a game. Vampires are possessive, that’s the one thing the stereotypes got right. Every man in this house is going to want you, and there’s not much you can do about it.”

“Including you?” you ask with a weak smile, attempting to use humour to distract yourself from the dread winding in your chest.

Riki smirks softly. “No. I’m not saying that you aren’t pretty, but I won’t try anything. With you or any other girl that comes through here.”

“Wow. So you do have some respect.”

He laughs. “Look,” he says, tone turning serious again. “I know you’ve only known me for a few days. And that even then, you barely know me. But I want you to know I’m here to help you whenever you need me.”

You meet his gaze, not missing the shift of the energy in the room. “Why are you being so nice all of a sudden?”

“Because,” he says. “You’re about to go through a lot and you’ll need someone in your corner.”                   

He notices you staring absent-mindedly at the wall and he shuffles closer. “I’m sorry for freaking you out, that’s the last thing I wanted to do. I’m just trying to prepare you. I promise it won’t be as horrible as whatever you’re cooking up in your head right now. It will just be… intense, at times. But you seem like you’re strong enough to handle it. And you have me. You’ll be okay.”

Another beat of silence passes before you speak up. “Will you do me a favour? Will you go with me when I finally go out there?”

“Of course.” Riki pauses. Glances at the door. “Why don’t we go now?”

You look at him wide-eyed. “Are you crazy? After everything you just said?”

He smiles. “May as well get it done, right? Besides, you’re better off meeting the others before they get fed up and storm in here.”

“Stop saying shit to scare me!”

He holds up his hands in surrender. “Sorry! It’s not my fault you’re a scaredy cat.”

“We were having a moment and you ruined it.”

He shrugs a shoulder. “What can I say? I speak my mind.”

“Well then get a filter.”

“Stop procrastinating.”

You sniff. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not procras–”

Riki stands up, adjusting and smoothing out his clothes. “Come on, Y/N.”

You hesitate, looking up at him like an animal putting their trust in a stranger. You don’t see much difference, really. They’re the people, you’re the deer. Maybe they want to hunt you and put you on display, or maybe they just plan on admiring you. But you won’t find out until it’s too late.

You feel the paranoia start to creep in, like fog settling over a crisp morning. What if… Riki’s like the bait? What if he was sent in here just to lure you out? You’ve been taking his presence for granted the past couple days, but… it could all be fake.

Riki’s smile drops and he looks at you with concern. “Hey, are you okay?”

You stay quiet, feeling restless all of a sudden. You glance around the room, at the dresser, the wall, the window–

Wait.

The window. You remember the seal, the only thing preventing you from getting out.

You have to get out.

You look back at Riki. “Yeah, sorry. My mind was just…”

He shakes his head. “It’s alright. I get it, this is a lot.”

You nod. “Yeah.”

“So… are you ready?”

You take a moment, chewing your lip, before getting off the bed. You wobble slightly, your legs taking time to wake up after you’ve spent so long sitting down. “Not really, but… I guess you’re right. Might as well do it sooner rather than later.”

Riki quirks a brow. “You’re sure? I wouldn’t want your heart giving out or something.”

“Shut up before I change my mind.” You walk over to the door, your fingers wrapping around the handle. You take a breath, your heart pounding against your ribcage.

You swing open the door, the smell of aged wood and old wallpaper wafting up your nose. It’s familiar. It reminds you of home, of Nanna. Your newfound courage wavers for a second before you take another quiet breath, drawing back your shoulders and straightening your spine.

You look over your shoulder and see Riki watching you with an impressed gleam in his eyes. He offers you a small smile, comes over and stands beside you. He nods, silently nudging you to go out.

Just go.

You step out into the hall and Riki follows. There’s a window at the end, letting in some light, but it’s still dim. The dark floorboards are slightly worn, the panelling on the walls faded. There are several other doors lining the hallway, all of them shut. You glance at Riki again and he gestures to the left, stepping in front of you and leading the way.

As you walk down the hallway in Riki’s shadow, you feel skittish. Like a scared mouse. Like if there’s any sudden noise, you’ll startle and run in the opposite direction. You hate this, feeling so wound up with anxiety you could cry.

God, what happened to you? You’ve been through a lot, but you always managed to pull through. You were always strong– it was one thing people always admired about you, especially at such a young age. And after all that, now you’re going to cower and hide?

You know if Nanna were here, she’d tell you the same thing– albeit in a gentler way.

And that– the thought of your Nanna and the last time you saw her– is your turning point. You’re never going to see her again if you don’t get out of here. And how are you ever going to get out if you’re avoiding everything and everyone, rotting away in a bedroom?

You and Riki reach the end of the hallway and descend the stairs.

At the foot of the staircase, you see it opens up to a living room. It’s nice, in a vaguely ‘old money’ sort of way. There are two leather couches and three matching armchairs arranged around a wooden coffee table, all on top of an ornate rug. There are bookshelves stocked with hardcover volumes and paperback novels. The walls are painted a dark red, with the same dark wood wainscoting as the hallway, decorated with tapestries and oil paintings.

Riki leads you through the living room, and a wooden louvre door and a matching serving window come into view. You assume they lead to the kitchen.

You can hear soft shuffling on the other side of the door. You try to swallow, but it’s difficult when your mouth is running dry.

Riki grabs the doorknob, looking over his shoulder at you before opening the door. You step through after him and the first thing you notice is the man leaning against the kitchen counter. The first thing you register is that he’s tall. The second– despite yourself– is how he’s the kind of handsome where he’s pretty.

The two of you make eye contact and reality seems to slow down. Not because of how dreamy he is, or because it’s love at first sight, but because of how intimidating he is. You see the look in his eyes and you realise everything Riki warned you about is most definitely true.

The man smirks. “Look who it is.” He puts down the glass in his hand. “Finally come out of your burrow, love?”

You clear your throat quietly and step forward, standing at Riki’s side. “Yes.”

“Y/N, this is Heeseung. He’s the eldest, acts kind of like the leader around here. Heeseung, this is Y/N.”

Heeseung’s eyes sweep over you, and you have to strain not to shrink under his predatory gaze. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. It’s good to see you gained the courage to finally face us.” He picks up his drink again and takes a swig.

You grit your teeth, picking up on his condescending tone. “Pleasure to meet you too,” you say, making sure to insert some venom into your tone.

He smiles. He must be one of those types. The ones who get a kick out of riling people up.

Okay, calm and collected approach it is then.

“Can I get you anything?” Riki asks, interrupting the passive-aggressive exchange.

You tear your gaze away from Heeseung. “I’m good, thanks.”

He nods and walks over to the fridge, opening it and grabbing himself a can of soda. He pops the tab and has a mouthful. “Where is everyone?”

“Helping clean up the yard.” Heeseung places his glass in the sink.

“And you’re slacking off why?”

He chuckles. “I was going to head out after I finished my drink, and then you brought Y/N down.”

“Don’t let me interrupt anything,” you say, attempting your best polite voice.

Heeseung looks at you again. “You’re not interrupting anything, love. It’s just yard work, nothing the boys can’t handle.”

Riki claps him on the shoulder. “How about this? We can go give the others a hand, and neko here can take some time to look around and get comfortable.”

You hold back a snort. Comfortable, your ass.

Heeseung glances between you and Riki, arching a brow. “Neko?”

“It’s her new nickname. She loves it.” He grins playfully at you.

“Clearly,” Heeseung agrees, taking in your expression with an amused smile. “Well, love, I guess I’ll see you later. Feel free to explore. If you need anything, we’ll be out back, the door’s just through there.” He gestures to a doorway off to the side. It must lead to a mudroom or something.

With that, and a small wave from Riki, they head through the door and disappear from your sight.

You look around the kitchen, unsure what to do now. Then, as you stand there in the silence, something occurs to you.

You glance around once more, cautious this time. You strain to hear any signs that someone is nearby, but you only hear the birds outside.

You duck out of the kitchen and back into the living room. You notice a doorway by the staircase. You head towards it, your steps quick but light. As you draw closer, you see– with a flood of hope– that it’s the entryway… and the front door is mere metres in front of you.

 You spot a deadbolt on the door and your heart sinks, but when you inspect it, you realise it’s unlocked.

It’s too good to be true. The whole situation suddenly screams trap.

You chew your lip, looking over your shoulder. Should you turn back around and stick to the original plan of cutting the seal on the window? That might take hours, days. You’re right here. The way out, your chance of escape is staring you in the face. You can’t let it slip through your fingers.

You decide to take the risk, your fingers wrapping around the handle and slowly twisting it. A fresh breeze drifts through the crack, carrying the scent of oncoming rain and decaying leaves. You breathe it in, using it to ground yourself and steel your nerves.

You get ready to run as you open the door. Looking outside, the coast is clear. All there is to be seen is tree after tree, dead leaves covering a good portion of the ground, and dirt broken up with the occasional patch of grass.

You jog down the steps, going to turn left and run for it, when someone appears out of nowhere, blocking your path.

“You actually fell for that, huh, princess?”

You freeze, your eyes making their way from the dirt floor to the man’s face. Short dyed-blond hair, and fox-like amber eyes. He has the kind of features that give him the opportunity to appear youthful and innocent, or mature and attractive. And right now, he looks anything but innocent.

“Cat got your tongue?” he taunts, leaning down to whisper in your ear. He grabs your arms and turns you around.

You see Heeseung approaching from around the side of the house. The rest of the men are behind him. Your heart starts to race and your eyes dart between them all like a cornered animal.

“You know, love, this is the second time you’ve tried to run from us.”

Heeseung stops directly in front of you, crowding your space. You feel claustrophobic, caught between the two men with nowhere to go, the adrenalin making your skin itch with the need to run. You feel like you’re overheating, like the air is evaporating and you’re struggling to breathe.

He grabs your chin, tilting your head so you’re looking up at him. “It’s also the last time, I hope you realise that,” he says in a low voice. There’s a tense pause before he speaks again. “You know, Y/N, these woods are extremely easy to get lost in. But we know them like the backs of our hands. If you try to run again, we will catch you. And trust me, you won’t like the consequences… but we will.”

He releases his hold on your face and steps aside, letting the blond steer you back inside.

 As you’re led up the stairs and down the hall, you can’t help but feel like a prisoner being taken to their cell. The man opens the door to your assigned bedroom and pushes you inside, slams it shut, followed by the click of the lock.

You stare at the door, mind reeling. As your heart slows, clarity replaces the adrenalin. You clench your jaw, feeling a sense of anger rise in your chest. You bite down on the inside of your cheek as you feel tears building behind your eyes. Without thinking, you turn around and kick the dresser as hard as you can.

You yell a curse as pain shoots up your foot. Simultaneously, the mirror above the dresser falls off its nail and crashes to the floor. You jump back to avoid the broken glass, eyes widening with surprise. You kneel beside the shattered mirror, gingerly picking up a decent-sized shard of glass. You look over your shoulder at the window, the pieces clicking together in your head, and a smile creeps across your face.

┆✯✡◔♱◔✡︎✯┆

To be continued...

Taglist: @un06 @naviiy @lilyuwon @kangseulgithegreat @seungielvr @saturdayssvillain @wonenonly @msauthor @nshmrarki @sakanelli-afc @b3tt7boop @yunjinswifee @lucycarlisleswife @lol6posts @fandommaniac07 @strxwbloody @iritas @toodeloosoo @jungwonmeover @sol3chu @skzenhalove @chaotictaku @moonpri @donttaketome @slvtella

★ Comment or send an ask to be added٭

[penkura]

Scared of Doctors anon again.

I now raise you: Law during his time at Punk Hazard finding y/n while they're still a subject.

Honestly I have too many thoughts about this. It's helping me wait for the dub to come out

Such good ideas though, omg. I'm thinking and more is coming to me for this, it's such a good prompt. There's so many ways it could go!

But for now...

Law had not intended to save you when he came to Punk Hazard. He had a plan, one that would hopefully bring down this Devil Fruit factory and help him get his revenge, it didn't include meeting and getting to know you little by little in the time he was there. You had run into Law by accident when trying to escape, making him curious about what was going on.

You look scared when you first run into him, having turned a corner abruptly and colliding with the young doctor, asking him for help.

"Please, help me get out of here!"

"What?"

There's a fear in your eyes he doesn't like seeing, while you grip his coat tightly and plead with Law to save you, somehow. He knew Caesar was conducting experiments, obviously with the SMILE fruit and everything, but he didn't know the extent, and now he's more curious seeing you.

You look perfectly fine and healthy, there doesn't seem to be a reason why you should be afraid of anything. Most of the people that Law has seen through the lab are willing participants, or they've been bribed by Caesar with something for him to use them. You don't seem to fit either bill, unless there's something hidden that even he can't see.

But his powers should tell him, right? The brief scan he does shows nothing is wrong, though he can see some kind of drugs in your system. He'd have to do his own testing to figure out what they are and what they're for, but you're interrupted by Monet a moment later.

"Oh, I see you've met our oldest patient, doctor."

Law's concerns grow when you immediately remove your hands from him, looking towards the ground with more fear than before. Monet explains you'd been sick with a highly deadly virus three years ago before she and Caesar took you in, away from your home and family, and have been working ever since to find a cure. He watches as you back away bit by bit, turning more into yourself and apologizing, before turning around and running back where you'd come from. When he asks Monet at the illness was, she beats around the bush and doesn't give a straight answer, Law knows something is wrong with this situation but he's not in a position to figure out what it is.

Not until the Straw Hats and the Navy show up anyway. The distractions provided by them allow him the time to find you again, though you still seem fearful of him. He holds his hands up where you can see them, making you tilt your head.

"I won't hurt you. I won't touch you at all. I can use my powers to see about your illness."

"...why bother? I'm gonna die anyway."

How strange, to hear words he'd said so long ago said to his own face, but in such a different situation. After Law explains how his Devil Fruit powers work, you consent to letting him do a proper Scan, and you're confused when he tells you there's no sign of any illnesses in your body. He still sees those drugs in your system, but he doesn't have the time to check what they are yet.

"We're going to destroy this place. You'll have to come with me if you want answers from Caesar."

You really don't know if you should trust him or not, he hasn't given you much of a reason not to apart from being a doctor, like Caesar and Monet had claimed to be. Your voice is shaky when you ask Law if he promises to find out what happened, and when he does, you're almost crying as you nod. Law lets you take his hand, once you've calmed down and agreed to go with him, he starts to lead you to a safer area.

"I won't let anything happen to you, all right? Not until we get you the answers you need."

For some reason, you decide to trust him.

[iamgonnagetyouback]

Hi I just saw a really cute tiktok by lilys.niche. And in the video she acts out 2 Ravenclaw student arguing if the marauders are together or not. And I thought it was such a cute idea. But to do marauders x reader. And it’s them talking reader/the marauders around and collecting evidence. And you just see cute moments that can either be friendly or romantic. I don’t know. I just thought it was a good idea, and your such a good writer I thought you could have fun with this. Thank you for your time. And have a nice day.

i loved the idea as soon as i saw it; so here it is!!

𝟷.𝟹𝚔 || 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐄

♡ ︎ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Winora and Elira are on a case to reveal the truth behind your relationship with the Marauders.

♡ ︎ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: None

♡ ︎ꜱʜɪᴘ: poly!marauders x Reader

Hogwarts was a big place, but somehow rumors spread faster than a snitch. For weeks now, whispers about you and the Marauders being more than just friends had been bouncing off the stone walls of the Ravenclaw common room. And no one was more dedicated to solving the mystery than two curious, determined Ravenclaw girls: Winora and Elira.

Winora, with her quill poised and her notebook ready, had turned this investigation into her personal project. Meanwhile, Elira was the silent observer, collecting 'evidence' like a seasoned detective. The two of them were often seen trailing you and the Marauders, whispering to each other and exchanging glances every time something happened.

The First Clue: The Courtyard

Winora scribbled furiously in her notebook as she nudged Elira. “Look, look!” she whispered excitedly, pointing toward you sitting on a bench in the courtyard. Remus sat beside you, a thick book open between the two of you as you leaned in, your heads almost touching.

“They're studying,” Elira noted, her brow furrowing. “That’s hardly romantic.”

“Ah, but did you see how he just smiled at her?” Winora countered. “That was not a friendly smile.”

Just as Elira was about to respond, Sirius sauntered over and dramatically flopped across your lap, earning a giggle from you and an amused roll of the eyes from Remus. You playfully shoved Sirius’s shoulder, telling him he was crushing your legs.

“See! That’s evidence!” Winora pointed, eyes wide. “You don’t just casually drape yourself over someone like that unless you're together.”

“They are very touchy,” Elira mused, jotting down a note.

The Snack Incident: The Great Hall

The next piece of 'evidence' came during lunch. You were seated between James and Peter, laughing at something James had said. Sirius sat across from you, tossing a piece of bread your way, which you caught effortlessly.

Winora and Elira were a few seats down, pretending to be engrossed in their own lunch while secretly eavesdropping.

“You’re like, my favorite person in this entire castle,” Sirius declared dramatically, making you laugh as he shot a wink your way.

“That could so be romantic,” Winora whispered, nudging Elira.

James leaned in, too, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “Oi, don’t steal my girl, Pads.”

You playfully shoved his arm away, but you were smiling the entire time. “I’m not your girl,” you retorted teasingly, but your tone was light, as if you were used to this kind of banter.

Elira scribbled down a note. “Alright, that’s definitely suspicious.”

The Midnight Stroll: The Astronomy Tower

Later that night, Winora and Elira followed you and the Marauders up to the Astronomy Tower. They hid behind a pillar as the five of you sat in a loose circle, looking out over the darkened grounds. You were wrapped in James's jacket, as you had forgotten yours in the dorm.

The Marauders seemed relaxed, talking about nothing in particular, but every now and then, there was a moment that made the girls' hearts race.

Like when Sirius, mid-conversation, leaned back on his elbows and lazily rested his head on your lap. Or when Remus tucked a stray strand of your hair behind your ear with a soft smile. Or when James pulled you closer when you shivered from the cool night air, letting you rest your head on his shoulder. Or when Peter kissed your cheek out of nowhere (which you didn't object to.)

Elira nearly squealed. “Did you see that?! She’s resting her head on James's shoulder—while Sirius is on her lap and Peter is kissing her cheek! That's practically a declaration!”

“Shh!” Winora hushed her. “We need more solid evidence.”

The Big Reveal: The Gryffindor Common Room

Winora and Elira sat on the couch by the fire, pretending to study while keeping one eye on the Marauders and you.

Sirius was sprawled out beside you, feet kicked up on the armrest, while James and Peter were playing wizard chess nearby. Remus sat in the armchair beside you, reading. There was nothing particularly romantic happening—until Sirius lifted his head and peered at you.

“Y/N, darling,” he drawled. “Would you rather snog me or Moony over there?”

You rolled your eyes, a grin tugging at the corner of your lips. “Neither.”

“Ouch,” Sirius clutched his chest dramatically, as if wounded. Remus, however, shot you a secretive smile over the top of his book.

Winora and Elira exchanged glances.

“Okay, but what if you had to choose?” James called from the chessboard. “Just hypothetically, of course.”

“Not gonna happen, Potter,” you teased, throwing a cushion at him.

James chuckled, catching the cushion with ease. “Yeah, well, too bad for you—you’ve got four boyfriends, so I guess you’ll just have to deal with it.”

You rolled your eyes again, but there was a playful, knowing smile on your face. “Lucky me.”

And that was when Winora and Elira's jaws dropped.

“Four?” Elira whispered, her eyes wide.

“They’re all together?!” Winora gasped, flipping open her notebook to furiously scribble down the final conclusion.

Case closed.

taglist: @anawritez-posts

[mirrorballkento]

glitch

ivy's note : taylor i'm begging on my knees for a glitch x dress mashup

content warnings : no curses/modern au, (drunk) friends to lovers, transition to dress if you can spot it

--

this wasn’t supposed to happen.

this had to be a mistake, and yet, here you were.

never once did you think that you’d end up in such a compromising position with your colleague—let alone the man you thought you had no chance with given his prestigious reputation in the company.

you were supposed to sweat nanami out, but as his large hands settled on either side of your waist, every coherent thought reminding you that your relationship was strictly professional faded into an indiscernible buzz at the back of your head.

it was easy to blame it on the drinks served at the corporate dinner, but maybe it was something more—something unbeknownst to the two of you. after all, you weren’t entirely out of it, and with the sliver of sobriety left in you, you wouldn’t pull just anyone back to your hotel room.

"kento..." you sigh hazily, your wine-tinged breath mingling with his. "how did we get here...?"

he pauses, looking at you with lidded eyes. his fingers, diligently thread through his silk tie to pull it loose, letting it drape over his shoulders.

“those damn drinks satoru ordered,” nanami huffed, shaking his head as he backed you up against the nearby wall. “tasted like shit. you’d think a man like him would have standards.”

“right, that explains why you downed the whole bottle.” you quipped, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck, the illicit act drawing the room taut with palpable tension.

up close, your gaze wandered over his face, admiring every crease and line etched into his broad features. his blond locks clung to his forehead, slick with a thin sheen of sweat at his brow, while a flush of crimson tinted his pale cheekbones as your fingernails grazed the spiky patch of his undercut.

“i could ask the same of you, you know,” nanami mumbled, each syllable laced with caution. “why are we here?”

your mind raced through the question, but as the alcohol’s haze began to lift and clarity settled in, the answer became elusive. nanami's touch—intimate, tender, and far beyond what even a best friend would do—kept you grounded in the moment.

maybe you really were falling in love—true love—and god, did it feel like he was too. drinks or not.

with your inhibitions still at an all-time low, you decided to go for the kill. the weight of hesitation lifted, and before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned in—closer, daringly so. "i don't want you like a best friend," you admitted feverishly, the sweltering heat of your breath radiating against nanami’s face.

"you're drunk."

"and i'm not even sorry."

"you do realize that this will cost us our job."

"you're not denying me, are you though?

nanami hesitated, his muddy eyes searching yours. god, were you persistent. "i should be."

"but you won’t," you whispered teasingly, craning your head to the shell of his ear, daring him to make the next move.

calculated, his lips hovered just above yours, and at that moment, the weight of consequences seemed to fade into the starry twilight.

"i won’t," nanami finally admitted, succumbing to the heat of the moment as he closed the last sliver of distance. "not if anyone finds out.”

--

i think there's been a glitch.

[sukunas-princess]

Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

Wakatoshi calls for Tobio to give him another ball, but Tobio's fingers curl firmly around it instead, keeping it close to his chest.

It isn't uncommon to find the two still in the gym after practice, perfecting their serves and spikes while the other Adlers are with loved ones.

But tonight isn't like the other nights.

Tobio has never seen Wakatoshi like this.

He watches in silence as Wakatoshi shuts his eyes before lifting his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face. His chest is heaving, and Tobio wants to ask him when’s the last time he drank something, but he already knows the answer. His water bottle hasn’t been touched since Tobio went to refill them, and that was over two hours ago.

And while it’s true he’s becoming more analytical with his attacks with every passing day, Wakatoshi shouldn't be practicing this hard. He's putting unneccessary strain on his body right now. He won't be able to focus tomorrow if his body and mind are too exhausted. He needs to rest.

Tobio can't believe what he's saying. While he would love nothing more than to practice late into the night with someone who finally gets him, to become even stronger than they already are…

He doesn't want it like this.

Wakatoshi is hurting.

From what, Tobio doesn't know.

But they'll get nowhere while he's like this.

"We should stop for now. We have to rest for the tourna--"

Tobio flinches when Wakatoshi roars from across the court to just give. him. the damn. ball.

They stare at each other for a moment, before Wakatoshi bends over to catch his breath. He glares at the ground, sweat stinging his eyes before he tries to wipe it away with the back of his hand.

Tobio’s right. He needs to stop. His thighs have been burning for almost an hour now and he’s only keeping himself up by pure anger at this point.

But he’s safe here.

They've both been at it since early afternoon, and while everything in his body is screaming at him to stop, he can’t find it in him to.

At least this way in the gym, he's safe.

Tobio wouldn’t understand it though, so there’s no point in trying to explain it. He’d just start shouting that he’s being stupid and to let it go.

But god, this isn’t Tobio’s fault. None of this is Tobio’s fault. He’s only telling the truth and trying to help and here he is being a complete ass and yelling.

And Wakatoshi croaks out an apology.

But it's too late.

Wakatoshi's blood throbs in his veins and his heartbeat pounds in his ears, but the sound of Tobio's disappointment in him is even louder.

When Wakatoshi looks up again, Tobio avoids eye contact with him, walking straight past him and to his duffel bag on the bench.

"I'm going home," He tells Wakatoshi calmly, sliding his jacket on, "And you need to go home too. You won't be of any use to us tomorrow if you run yourself into the ground."

Wakatoshi swallows hard as Tobio slings his duffel bag over his shoulder and finally turns around to look at him. He searches his best friend's eyes for some sort of empathy, but all he’s met with is coldness.

But that doesn’t stop him from trying again.

"Tobio, I'm sor--"

"No, you know what? Save it!" Tobio snaps, strangling the strap of his duffel bag with both his hands, "I don't know what's got you acting like this all of a sudden, but you need to figure it out before you jeopardize the team."

Wakatoshi shuts his eyes, shame filling his chest because how the fuck did it get to be this bad? What in the actual fuck is happening to him right now?

This isn't who he is. He’s always been a pillar for every team he’s been on and here he is having a complete breakdown over the thought of having to be alone with his thoughts. He needs to be strong for his team right now. They're all counting on him.

And as the door groans shut with Tobio’s departure, Wakatoshi’s worst fear is now a reality.

He’s now alone. No more disctractions for the day. No early morning run, no work-out, no warm-ups, no practice with the Adlers, and now, no Tobio.

He fucking hates this part.

His throat screams at him for some sort of relief, and it's only then that he goes to get his water bottle on the bench. He downs half of it in one go before collapsing onto the bench and reaching for his phone, and the glaring white numbers on his lockscreen confirm that Tobio is right.

It’s late. Almost midnight. He needs to go home and rest so he doesn’t ruin the team’s chances tomorrow.

But how can he?

He knows what's going to happen as soon as he gets home. It's only going to be thoughts of you. It’s been like that almost every night for two weeks and he hates himself for being this weak. At least during the day, there’s other people around, but at home? There’s nothing there waiting for him. He has to come back to his apartment every fucking night, trying to fight off thoughts of you until sleep takes him.

And as he absentmindedly swipes through his notifications, Wakatoshi wheezes out a chuckle when he gets to the bottom, because what are the fucking chances?

Toshi! You're probably asleep right now, so I’m sooo so so so sorry if this wakes you up. But if I don’t ask now I’m going to forget lol

But do you want to have lunch with me later this week? We found this really neat sandwich shop you might like! 🥰 You can put all sorts of protein on yours!!

His thumbs hover above the screen as he thinks of how to respond. Yes? No? A thumbs up?

Sweat drops glitter across the screen as he types up his reply.

Sounds good! :-)

Sounds good.

Sounds good?????

He's so stupid.

He's so stupid for using old school smiley faces.

He's so stupid for deciding two months ago to go out to eat with friends. He's so stupid for trying to cram himself into the tiny booth next to you while Kotarou was on your other side.

He's so stupid for awkwardly asking you questions all night, thinking it was going swimmingly between the two of you.

He's so stupid for exchanging numbers with you.

He's so stupid for not asking why you were there in the first place - having to find out at the end of the night through Tobio that Kotarou and you had been dating for over five months now.

And he's so, so stupid for falling for you.

But how can he ever say no to you?

How can he try to just move past it when you've awakened something in him that he's never felt before?

How can he deny his heart and his soul something that it so desperately wants?

And as he sits there on the cold metal bench, shoving his face into his palms and your own face becoming a kaleidoscope behind his eyelids, his heart has become too loud to ignore.

Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

© all writing owned by sukunas-princess. do not copy, translate, plagiarize, share outside of tumblr, etc. heart divider by @/roseschoices. support banner made by me, sukunas-princess.

[sillyromance]

...He picked me up.

Just a minute ago, it was a fight: loud screams, screeching of metal upon metal, dead people, scents of sweat and blood flooding the ground underneath my boots. Now, it's just me and him; he is so huge, a death battle below is nothing but an amusing bunch of shouting tiniest punching each other for no reason.

Many years ago, he left to serve a kingdom opposing mine. I knew him... Very well. But we have changed. He isn't my old friend any more as well as I'm not an immature student of Royal academy.

I don't know who ordered him to come here. I have no idea how he found me in that mess. But there is no doubt why I'm on his palm now. My fate is clear: he is a giant, and I'm a human. I'm significantly weaker; my sword is a toy which won't do him any harm. As if I intended to... Anyway, I throw the blade away - then look back in his blue eyes gazing at me softly, almost like they did before his deception.

No words are said. Feeling tears swelling at the corners of my eyes, I hold away sobs, but continue to stare right in his face, showing that I don't fear what's coming next. He moves his thumb and rubs my wet cheek as if trying to reassure me. I don't protest. It's... comforting to be remembered. To be reminded that our bond still costs something.

Afterwards, he lifts me closer to his mouth, opens it slightly - and gently puts me inside, shutting his jaws behind my feet, leaving me in compete darkness. His tongue springs beneath me, saliva pools in immediately, soaking my clothes and hair as I lie limp, allowing my devourer to do anything he pleases with me.

I cry silently. I have already accepted my end.

At my surprise, he doesn't savour me for long. He is exceptionally careful with my vulnerable body; perhaps, it's because he tastes blood running from a wound in my shoulder. Merciful, as always... I'm grateful for him taking me from hell down below; at least, there will be no nasty smells and yelling soldiers when I die.

His lips part one last time - I see a glimpse of sky and the sun flickering gloriously at my smeared face. I look at it, peace settling in my chest.

Goodbye...

I tap the muscle, announcing that I'm ready.

And he listens - I feel as gravity gradually shifts beneath me. I slide into the pharynx - he swallows loudly, forever separating me from the outside world. Just a little quivering lump travelling down his powerful throat and disappearing without a trace in his broad chest as if I have never existed.

I slowly sink further, further into dark, soothing warmth. I hear his heart beating beside me, his huge lungs filtrating air as he inhales and exhales - signs of a great life all around my minuscule frame. Something I will be a part of very soon as a ship becomes a part of the ocean which claimed it.

The esophagus contracts, squeezing a pained whimper out of me - I'm pushed in a spacious chamber which greets me with an audible growl.

I don't know if I should feel anything as I tuck myself into the velvet folds. Acids make my skin itch a little, but it doesn't take long for the sensation to turn into pleasant numbness. It's pitch black, hot, humid. And soft. My lids lower against my will; exhaustion and blood loss are determined to knock me out. I know - if I fall asleep, I won't wake up. But it's OK. I'm tired. He is with me. His belly gurgles softly, digestion process ready to rage on; his hand wonders around his abdomen - I feel it touching my back, then it presses harder at me and doesn't ever go away.

Only he will ever know what happened to me. I'm not even visible out there - and though it should be terrifying, I'm happy that no one will come to save me.

He won't leave me alone again...

I smile. Then, allow my eyes finally close and succumb at the mercy of his stomach....

........

- Hey.

I blink, lifting on my elbow. The room is enormous; every item or piece of furniture is at least fifteen times bigger than me. Meanwhile, my bed is just the right size for a tiny. In fact, it is a cute fruit basket full of cushions. I want to pull away a heavy piece of fabric given me instead of a normal blanked - but hiss and give up on this plan immediately, blind and deaf from pain: the cut on my shoulder burns, convulsing, as if it was on fire.

Only once I catch my breath and the fog covering my vision clears a little, I notice familiar forget-me-not eyes twinkling kindly from above.

- Ugh... W-what happened?

The giant smiles.

- Your injury needs good treatment. I saw you on the buttle field and decided to take care of your crazy head before someone else did. It appears I was just in time.

I huff, falling back at the pillow dramatically.

- Very funny. Actually, I thought you was about to make me your food.

He raises a brow, then frowns - it looks like I have offended him.

- One more word - and I'm eating you for real.

I giggle. Next few minutes pass in silence as I watch him preparing a tiny bondage for my wounded arm. His large fingers move so accurately - it seems impossible, considering how big he is. When he finally turns to me, I let him wrap his work around the stinging area. Healing extract bites sensitive flesh aka crocodile, but I don't pay attention to it, smirking softly at my friend's focused expression as he tends me gingerly.

- That's why I love you. - I murmur.

He says nothing. Just smirks back - and gives me a kiss in the forehead.

[atlasscrumpit]

Bucky x Reader

Haircut

You were in your room in the tower, cleaning up.

Sunday's were always quietand you took the chance to tidy up and have some time alone.

You heard a knock at your door and opened it to see Bucky with chunks of his hair cut out.

"What happened to you?" You asked trying to hold back your laughter.

"I tried to cut my own hair..." He grumbled as you bit your lip to stop yourself from smiling.

"Bucky, would you like some help?" You asked as he looked at you and nodded.

"Why didn't you just ask me in the first place?" You asked dragging a chair into the bathroom and getting him to sit down for you.

"I don't like people touching my hair, I don't like talking when someone is cutting my hair it's just...uncomfortable." He said as you nodded a little and thought for a second.

"Alright, well... How about this?" You asked handing him a set of earphones.

"Put these in and just close your eyes and relax, you don't have to do anything but focus on the music while I give you a hair cut." You said as he took the earphones and sat down.

"I guess that could work." He grumbled as you smiled.

"I'll always keep a hand on you in one way or another so you know I'm here, okay? That way I won't scare you too much if I randomly touch you." You instructed as he nodded and put the earphones in and closed his eyes.

You brought out the scissors and a brush and began to gently trim him hair to the length most of the chucks were.

You moved rather slowly, making sure to not spook him whenever you had to cut a new section.

Once you were done you noticed he was in a completely relaxed state, you chuckled softly before tapping his shoulder and letting him open his eyes.

He took the headphones out and looked at himself in the mirror.

"Wow... I look so different." He muttered as you smiled.

"Good different?" You asked finally seeing a smile creep onto his face.

"Yeah... Good different, I feel like the long hair just reminded me too much of...you know." He muttered as you nodded a little and brushed the hair away from his shoulders.

"Expect Steve to get all emotional, you know he's a baby." You said making him chuckle softly.

He knew Steve would be emotional about something as simple as a haircut, but the more time went on the more Steve could see his old friend coming back.

"He's somehow more emotional then you, and you literally cried about a snail yesterday." He said as you looked at him through the mirror.

"He was so tiny!" You shouted making him laugh and shake his head.

"Yes, I know he was. I was the one to console you when Thor stood on him." He said as you faked cried.

"That giant oaf." You muttered making him laugh again.

"Would you two just date already?" A voice startled you both as you looked behind to see Nat sitting on your bed.

"How long have you been sitting there?" You asked as she shrugged and walked out.

"You know...I always wanted an older sister, Nat makes me regret wishing for that." You said as Bucky stood up and smile, brushing the hair off him.

"I mean...maybe she's right." He muttered, looking down at the ground.

"What do you mean?" You asked, obviously you knew what he was implying but you needed it to be clear.

"The first time we tried it we were both in a terrible place, of course it ended badly... Maybe, we could try again." He said, looking into your eyes as you smiled softly.

"I would really like that actually..." You said noticing his cheeks flush a little.

"How about I take you out on Friday? Dinner, dancing?" He asked making you smile with fondness.

"It's a date."

[souliebird]

[[last call for sinners]]

fandom: Kin (AMC) pairing: Michael Kinsella x Reader Rating : explicit tags: Dom/Sub, Explicit Sexual Content, Subspace, P in V sex word count: 8k Summary: The weight of the world feels like it is on Michael's shoulders and you are there to make sure he doesn't crumble under it

The weight of the world feels like it's on Michael's shoulders even when it shouldn't be. 

Business is good. Anna texted him earlier without prompt. No one's been going at each other. He hasn't had an episode in a while.

Things are Good.

But his shoulders and neck are tight, his nightmares are flaring up again, and little things keep irritating him. It feels like something is winding up right inside of him, getting ready to explode. He feels trapped. 

Even walking back to his house after a fantastic dinner with Birdy, he feels like he's sinking into the earth, waiting for it to swallow him whole.

He turns the corner and sees your bike parked in his driveway, hidden from the street by the wall.

Part of him wants to turn around, go back to Birdy's so he doesn't drag you don't into his darkness. But he's selfish, so very selfish, and he doesn't want to be alone in the dark and you are such a bright light. 

Michael goes to you like a moth drawn to a flame, unlocking the door and calling out for you. 

"Here," is the response from the sitting room. It still feels like he can't pick up his feet, trudging through mud to get to you. 

You're sitting on the couch, looking like you just came from work. One elegant leg is crossed over the other and you are typing away on your phone.

"How long have ya been waiting, love?"

You look up at him with your eyes slightly narrowed and like you're about to lecture him and he freezes in his spot. 

If anyone else gave him that look, he'd put them in their place. 

But with you, you and that look and how he feels, he bows his head just a fraction. You don't say anything, just keep him pinned to his spot with your gaze. Until you tilt your head to the side just a fraction.

The air is squeezed from his lungs and Michael drops to his knees. 

You finally put your phone to the side and uncross your legs with an exaggerated slowness. His mouth goes dry as he watches you stand. You take your time, smoothing out your dress before you walk around the coffee table to him. 

The only sound is the clicking of your heels.

He keeps his eyes on your face and you don't look anywhere but his. 

You stop in front of him, looking down at him with that same hard look. You reach out and cup his cheek, rubbing your thumb along his beard. He can't help but close his eyes and lean into the touch. 

It's like a tether, keeping him grounded and stable, your touch.

"My sweet puppy," your voice low, just barely a whisper. He doesn't dare open his eyes. "Look at the state of you. Lost in that handsome mind of yours." You turn your hand just slightly so you can scritch your nail across his jaw. 

He swallows a moan.

"What do you think will happen if I let you stay down this path, hmm? How dark will those thoughts go? Do you think it will be anything good, Michael?"

"No, ma'am."

"I don't think so either and I don't like the thought of anything not good happening to MY puppy. And you are mine , right, Michael?"

"Yes, ma'am." 

You give a pleased hum and it sends a shiver down his spine. You continue to drag your nails along his beard and he's so glad you asked him to grow it out. He presses into your hand more. 

"That's right. So I think I'll bring you back where you belong."

Michael turns his head so he can kiss at your palm, "Thank ya."

You allow him to nuzzle and kiss at your palm for a moment before pressing your index and middle finger under his chin, guiding his head up. He opens his eyes to look up at you.

He feels so so heavy and he knows you know, the way your eyes dance over his face.

"Let's go upstairs, pup."

He stands up from kneeling, your fingers staying under his chin until he is at full height, then tracing down his arm to take his hand. You give his fingers a light squeeze then turn and walk towards the staircase. He follows, letting you guide him across the room and up the stairs. 

Michael doesn't know what he's done to deserve you, to deserve this. You always know when he falls too deep into the dark, even when he says nothing. No one sees him like you do - not Jimmy or Amanda or Birdy. You know what he needs even when he doesn't know.

"I can hear you thinking, Michael," you say, giving his hand another squeeze.

He doesn't respond, he knows he doesn't need to with you, but he does tighten his grip on your hand. He doesn't want you to let go. He needs you to anchor him.

You lead him into his bedroom, to the foot of the bed and you turn to face him without letting go of his hand. He doesn't feel like he's under a microscope when you run your eyes from his head to his feet. It's almost comforting knowing he can't hide anything from you. 

"Take off your clothes," you order, letting go of his hand to run your fingers back up his arm and placing your hand in the middle of his chest. 

He knows he nods, he just doesn't process it. You drop your hand from him as he peels out of his Henley. He drops it to the ground and goes for his belt next. 

His heart starts beating a little faster when you step away from him. He doesn't want you to leave him. He needs you. 

He needs you.

He steps after you, just to match the one step you took away from him. You watch him with those sharp eyes and it makes his throat go tight. You told him to do something and he's not doing it.

Instead of an order or a reprimand, your eyes soften and a fond little sigh escapes your lips.

"Oh, my poor puppy. You really need this, don't you?" He doesn't know how to respond, so he doesn't. You touch his cheek again and he presses into it so hard one of you might lose balance. "Help me out of this dress. After you finish doing what I already told you to do."

You keep your hand on him as he pushes his pants and briefs off as quick as he can, having to kick off his shoes mid process. He manages to get his socks off as well, and in less than five seconds, he's nude and half hard in front of you.

You rake your eyes over him again before dropping your hand again and turning so your back faces him. Your hair is already tied up in a bun, so it's easy for him to find the hidden zipper of your dress and drag it down. 

The sheath dress falls off your shoulders and to the ground and Michael is surprised to see nothing under the dress. 

His cock twitches with interest as he remembers you rode your bike here.

As much as he doesn't want to, he keeps his hands to himself. 

You step out of the dress and face him again, now only in your high heels. 

You start to walk past him, beckoning him to follow with a finger. He's at your heel as you head into the bathroom. 

Two towels are already set out and he can't help licking his lips. You've planned all this - what you're going to do to him and he just wants to melt into it. Let you take control.

God, he needs it so much. You're too good for him.

He waits as you turn on the shower, watching as you test the water with your hand. Once it's how hot you want it, you glance over to him. All it takes is a look and he knows what you want. 

He goes into the shower, hissing as the spray hits him. It's scorching hot but feels good against his shoulders. He tilts his head down so it centers on the back of his neck, hoping for some relief from the tension.

You step out of your heels and into the shower behind him, your hands going to his shoulders and smoothing down his back. Michael shudders under your touch.

You don't speak as you run your hands over him, digging your nails in just enough that he can feel them. He closes his eyes and tries to focus solely on your touch.The shower feels like a cage, closing in around him. The spray is so loud in his ears and he doesn't like the feeling of the water clinging to his beard, weighing his head down more. Everything is just so much, except for your fingers on skin. They start going higher, dancing up his neck and teasing the ends of his hair. 

He doesn't know if seconds pass or hours, but eventually, you start wetting his hair, combing through it until it's slicked back. He hears you uncap a bottle and a moment later you are massaging product into his scalp. You coat his hair in it, then start digging your thumbs into the base of his skull. He leans back into it, inhaling steam into his lungs as he does. 

Whatever you are using isn't his normal shampoo. There's a hint of mint to it - nothing overwhelming. He rather likes it. It reminds him of the tea you drink in the mornings - when it's just you and him before everyone else wakes up. When the world is quiet. 

When he knows he's happy. 

When he knows you're happy.

As you wash his hair, Michael feels the stiffness start to bleed out of his shoulders.

 It never feels this good when he showers. You're using your nails and rubbing in little circles and he swears you must be a witch because it's not just the tightness in his body you're washing away, the tightness in his chest is fading. For the first time in hours, it feels like he can breathe. 

He lets himself inhale through his nose. 

Behind him, you give a pleased purr, "That's my good pup. Let me take care of you. Be good for me. Let go."

Michael hums in response. Letting go would be nice, wouldn't it? He trusts you - the only person outside his family he trusts. You're the only person who's seen him like this - this vulnerable. Others think they have, but they haven't. They haven't come close.

You kiss his shoulder then gently tilt his head back so you can rinse his hair out. It feels nice, the warm water with your fingers. He likes it when you run your fingers through his hair. You only do it when you're alone together, so it's become a little special to him. You always make him feel special.

He doesn't know if he makes you feel special. You put up with so much shite for him. He doesn't do nearly enough for you. 

He doesn't deserve you. He doesn't deserve this. 

"Shhh, none of that, now," you say, dropping your hand to his shoulders and nudging him to face you. He turns and you put your hands on his shoulders again - stepping forward. He steps back until he's pressed against the shower wall. You stop in front of him. You cup the side of his head and guide it to the nape of your neck. He buries his face into you, arms starting to shake from emotion and restraint.

"You can touch, pup," you whisper into his hair. 

Before you even finish giving permission, Michael's arms are around you, clinging to you.

You resume running your fingers through his hair as tears start sliding down his cheeks. He doesn't sob or shake, it's a sort of quiet release. It doesn't hurt and he's not angry - he just breathes deeply through it, letting it happen. 

You're holding him. You choose him. You don't sneer or run away. You know who he is - what he is. 

He wants to be yours so badly.

And you call him yours. 

You slide your free hand between you and wrap it around his cock.

He didn't realize how hard he was and it makes him whimper.

You start to stroke him, from the base, achingly slow up his shaft until you get to his head, which you squeeze just perfectly before starting back down again. Michael groans into your shoulder, dropping his hands so he can squeeze your waist. You tug at his hair a little and he nuzzles against your neck in apology.

You graciously accept and continue dragging your nails over his scalp. You pump his cock at a slow but steady pace. 

You're breathing into his ear. All he can smell is mint and you. All he can feel is you - your hands touching the most vulnerable parts of him, your body against his. He darts his tongue out so he can taste the salt on your skin. He wants to be consumed by you. 

He is consumed by you. 

You cradle him as you stroke him over and Michael is completely lost in the sensations. He wants to stay here like this for however long you will allow. To him, there's nothing outside your arms.

It is you and him. 

He wants all of you. He wants to give himself all of you. 

You kiss the shell of his ear as you work over his cock and Michael moans your name.

You respond by squeezing at his base, "Being so good for me, Pup. Always so good for me." He shivers at the praise, desperately needing it, needing you. He presses his face more into your neck, tightens his hold on your hips, and even attempts to shuffle impossibly closer. You're practically flush against each other.

"Let me take care of you," you purr against him and he nods, not really processing the words. He trusts whatever you're saying. He trusts you. He needs you. 

You press another kiss to his ear, then let go of his cock. An upset noise comes from the back of his throat and you gently shush him again. He rubs his cheek against your shoulder, needing more of you touching him.

"Don't you want this, puppy?" You breathe into his ear, tugging his head by the hair enough he lifts his head up to not be completely hidden against you. You press two fingers against his lips and smear something on them.

It's your own arousal and he greedily sucks your fingers into his mouth, wanting to taste you. 

The fact you want this, want him when he's like this, makes his own arousal even more intense. It's a heady feeling, at the base of his skull where you're petting him, and wrapping around his mind like a fog. But it's you, you're the fog, wrapping him up in all of you and it's not anything he wants to fight.

You're taking care of him. You always take care of him. 

He wants to take care of you. Be good for you. 

Be good to you.

"I think it's time to get out of the shower, puppy," you hum, pulling your fingers from his mouth. He tries to follow them, but the hand in his hair keeps him in place. "You need to put that mouth to good use."

His cock twitches so hard he can feel it and he nods, licking his lips for a lingering taste of you. 

"Please?" He asks, his own voice sounding far away to his ears. 

You know him so well because you don't let go of him to turn off the shower. Instead of hanging onto his hair, you take his hand again and step away. He doesn't cling. You're not leaving him.

He holds onto your hand and leans back against the cool tile wall. He manages to open his eyes to watch you. You placed the towels so you wouldn't have to leave the shower to get them and when you fully return to him, one is in your hand. 

You squeeze his fingers before letting go so you can use both hands to start drying his hair off. He tips his head forward so it's easier for you and for a few moments the towel blocks his vision of you. 

It makes his heart flutter nervously, but you are still there. He can feel your hands rubbing around his head through the towel and he can see your feet are only centimeters from his, but you don't have skin to skin contact and he doesn't like that. 

But he has to be good for you. He has to be, so he stares hard at a bead of water dripping down your leg. 

As he starts to feel his breathing get heavy, you flip the part of the towel covering his face up and back, so it's folded over his head. 

You cup both of his cheeks and bring him forward so his forehead is touching yours. 

"There's my puppy," you say, a soft little smile on your lips. You look so relaxed and happy and you're touching him again. He feels himself smile back at you as a pleasant calm settles over him again. You reward him with a feather light kiss to the cheek.

You once again take his hand and step out of the shower. He follows, looking down to where you are connected. Your fingers are hooked around his, thumb ghosting over his knuckles.The small comforts you give him make his head spin - he doesn't understand how you always know what he needs. 

And right now, Michael needs you. 

You lead him back to the bed and with your free hand, point to the ground. He kneels down slower this time, keeping a hold of your hand and nuzzling into it once on the floor. You turn your hand so you can pet his cheek, smoothing your thumb over his skin. He leans into it, tilting his head up to look up at you. 

"I have something for you," you purr. 

A questioning noise comes from deep in his throat. You hum, your lips turning up into a pretty little smirk. You scritch his chin and step back slowly. He doesn't like you stepping away, but he trusts you to come back. He doesn't want the buzzing in his head to fade. 

He doesn't want to be alone with his thoughts. Not like this. 

He closes his eyes and waits, because he doesn't want to see you walk away from him.

"You've been so good to me, so good for me, I thought you deserved a little treat. Something special."

He listens to your voice as you go to the closet. You rustle around briefly, then you are back in front of him in a few steps. 

Michael opens his eyes when you touch his cheek again. You're holding a slim but large black jewelry box and he doesn't understand how it could be for him. He furrows his brows, tilting his head a little in question and you just smile down at him. 

You tilt the box so he has the perfect view as you slowly reveal what is inside. Laying on a bed of deep green velvet are two pieces of matching jewelry.

In the center is a watch. It's sleek and all black and he knows by the brand it is an expensive model. It's a luxury piece, but it isn't showy. It's subtle. He doesn't know a lot about watches, but it's beautiful - it's something he would have picked out for himself if he was in the market for a luxury watch. 

Resting around the watch is a necklace - a thick black chain with an O ring in the middle. Like the watch, he can tell it's an expensive piece. 

It's not a collar you would have bought down at the local sex shop. 

Because it is a collar. You're presenting him with a collar and it is making his mind spin. 

He wants to be yours so badly, to submit himself to you fully, but a collar is a lot. He knows it is a lot and his Pride wants to fight it. He can't even imagine what his family would say.

But he wants to wear it for you. You got it for him and you want him to be Yours and that thought alone has his cock weeping. 

"Can I put it on you?" 

Michael nods, his mouth going dry and throat going tight. 

He wants it. If he doesn't like it, he trusts you to remove it, he knows you will, but he wants to feel it around his neck. He wants to know what it feels like to be truly yours.

You place the box on the bed so you can lift the collar up. It feels like he's watching you in slow motion and all he can focus on is your fingers around the chair. 

He wants them on his skin instead. 

There's no closure on the collar and it just barely slips over his head. You rest it around his neck and the O-ring rests just above his collar bone. It's heavy, much heavier than he expected it to be. It's not a weight he'd be able to ignore - he'll always know it's there. 

He'll always know he belongs to you. That you want him. That you need him in the same way he needs you. That despite everything he has done, everything you've seen about him, you still choose him. 

His fingers shake as he reaches up to feel where the chain rests. It's so cool against his hot skin. It sits loosely, not constructing his neck or making it hard to breathe. It feels Good. 

His attention is pulled away from the collar as you remove the watch from the gift box. You hold out your hand in front of his face and it takes a moment to process what you want from him. 

Michael places his left hand in yours and you slip the watch onto his wrist. It's heavy like the collar - he won't forget it's there. 

"The collar," you hum, latching the watch so it's snug, "is for just us, but this is for always, my pup. So you always know you are mine, every hour of every day." 

You bend down so you are face to face and cup his in both of your hands, smoothing your thumbs over his beard, "what do you think, Puppy? Do you like what I got you?"

He doesn't know how to answer. His throat is getting tighter and burning and he wants to scream and cry because _yes_ . He loves what you got him. So very very much. He just doesn't know how to express it. It's all too much and not enough. He tries to give a shaky nod, but all he manages to do is press his face into your palms with a whimper. 

It isn't until you kiss away his tears does Michael realize he's crying. 

You brush your nose over his and part of him wants to just bury his face into your shoulder again. 

You have other plans for him - one hand wraps around his cock again and it sends a full body shudder through him. You use the heel of your hand to smear precum over the head of his cock, teasing with the pressure but not giving him the pleasure. His hips start twitching and he wants so much to fuck up into your hand.

But he wants to be good for you, so good, deserve his collar and what you do to him, so he tries his best to not move. He closes his eyes and lets you consume him again.

It's easy for him to sink into your light. The buzzing and headyness are taking over his skull again and it's just as good as any high he's ever had. All other sensations are lost and all Michael feels is your hands on him and the cool metal hanging around his neck. 

It's perfect. It's so fucking perfect and good and you finally, finally, curl your fingers around him again and pump. The tightness is coiling in his belly and his thighs are starting to shake. 

He's so close. 

He's so close but then you take your hand away again and he wants to sob. 

You start to stand again, but you lean in so you bump against him as you raise. Your chin brushes his nose, then your sternum, and Michael groans and leans a little bit forward so his lips drag over your stomach. When you're fully standing, your cunt is just in front of him. 

His cock is so hard and leaking everywhere but none of it matters - not when you're asking this of him. 

Michael tilts his head back, and he feels like he's praying up to you. 

"Please?"

You put your leg over his shoulder, and using the hand still cupping his cheek, guide him to your core. 

Your cunt is dripping wet and Michael wastes no time burying his face into you. 

"Good boy," you moan, pushing your hand up to thread your fingers through his hair. Your grip is tight, but he doesn't care because he's where he should be. Where he wants to be. 

He rubs his nose over your clit a few times before nuzzling down. He just wants to breathe in deeply but he's so greedy that he can't wait and buries his tongue inside you. 

You tug him even closer into you and he reaches up one arm to wrap around the leg on his shoulder. His fingers dig into your thigh, half to cling desperately to you, half to help hold you up. The hand not holding onto his hair drops to hold onto his arm and your nails bite into his flesh. 

Michael eats you out like a man starving because that is what he is. He's starving for you. Your juices are soaking into his beard and all he cares about is More.

More of you. More for you. More You. 

If you want to ride his face until the sun rises tomorrow, then he will be on his knees all night for you. 

He fucks his tongue in and out of you, wanting to prove you aren't wrong to want him. He wants to show you how good he can be for you. 

You're the one who deserves to cum, not him. 

You start to grind your cunt into Michael's mouth. His other hand shoots up to grab onto your hip, encouraging the motions. He wants you to use him. He wants to beg for it but that would mean removing his mouth from you, and that's something he won't do unless you direct it. He's yours and he will do whatever you ask, and right now you want his mouth on your cunt.

He drinks greedily from you, helping you keep balance as you use him. It's not harsh, you're enjoying him. Your soft breathy moans are going straight through him and his cock twitches hard with each one. 

He dares to open his eyes. You're looking down at him, looking blissed out as he feels. 

He moans loudly when he feels your legs start to shake and tightens his grip on your hip and thigh, pulling you even closer. You hunch over him and you push your hand through his hair to the back of his neck. You start to grip the hairs there, but then your hand drops and grabs onto his collar. 

You yank on it and Michael's vision goes white. 

It feels like he's fucking floating. His toes are curled so tightly it hurts but in a fucked up good way. 

He knows your legs give out and you crumble into his lap, and the sudden change causes him to topple you both over, but it's like he's not aware of it. All his fucked out mind thinks is he can press his face into your neck again. 

You roll so both of you are on your sides, legs tangled together. You move his arms so they are wrapping around you loosely, then cradle his head to your neck. He hugs himself to you on instinct and buries his face into you. 

You hold him, one hand cupping the back of his neck, still holding the collar, the other tracing up and down his back.

He can feel it, on the edge of his haze, the soothing motions of your fingers. Part of him wants to give into the haze, follow it until he falls asleep. It's such a strong urge. 

But he wants to be with you more. Like this. Wrapped in each other, nothing else in the world mattering. 

He can feel you smiling against his temple. 

He did that. He made you smile like that - from his mouth, his hands, his actions. 

He just feels warmth radiating through him. 

He doesn't know how long you lay there on the floor, but eventually his hip starts to hurt and that pulls his mind away from the lazy way you were petting his spine. 

Michael turns his head so he can kiss your cheek while rolling you onto your back. Once he's over you, he presses his forehead to yours and smiles sleepily down at you. You return his smile with your own.

"Hey there," you whisper, stopping your motions so you can cup his jaw. "How're you feeling?"

He gives a pleased hum in response and nuzzles his nose against yours. Your smile grows and you close your eyes. 

You just barely put pressure on his jaw and guide him down to kiss you. 

It's slow. He still feels calm and hazy and he wants to stay in it a bit longer with you. You're on the same page as him - you keep the kiss nice and lazy. 

You hum against his lips and he pulls back just enough so you can speak, "Don't think I'm done with you yet."

"Yeah?" He asks, starting to pepper sweet kisses over your cheeks and chin. You melt under him, just a little bit, giving a happy sigh.

He takes the opportunity to start kissing down your jaw to your neck. He starts sucking a mark into you and you tilt your head to give him more access. It is a gift and he treats it as such, taking his time to enjoy you. The salt on your skin tastes so good on his tongue, where it's mixed with your juices. He lives for this raw essence of you. 

Michael starts to slide down you, intent on getting your nipple into his mouth, but you give the faintest tug on the chain around his neck. His head snaps up to look at you.

You're looking at him through your lashes, a hint of amusement in your pretty eyes. 

"The floor isn't very comfortable, Michael," you tease, dropping your hand away from him.

 He licks his lips and pushes himself up so he is kneeling between your legs. As he stands, he helps you up and as soon as you are in front of him, his hands go to your waist. You loop your arms around his shoulders while leaning forward so he is supporting your weight. 

"Can I take ya to bed?"

You push up on your toes so you can give him a sweet peck on the lips, before whispering against him, "No." 

Michael furrows his brows, confused. You kiss him again.

"But since you've been so good, I'll let you follow me into it."

You drag your nails across his back as you step away from him, stretching your arms out to put distance between you. He doesn't want that, so he tightens his grip on you and closes the gap, stepping into your space again. 

You smirk at his silent challenge. You hook a finger through the O-ring around his neck and lean in until your lips are barely brushing his.

"I said I'm not done with you, yet, Michael Kinsella. Don't make me change my mind."

He feels his cock start to twitch back to life with that and can't help the grin starting to spread across his face. 

"So how do ya want me?" 

You tilt your head towards the bed and he huffs a little laugh, "Aye." He drops his hands from you and lets you go to the bed. You sit on the mattress, then scoot back until you're fully on it and at the head of the bed. 

Michael waits until you are settled then climbs onto the bed and kneels by your feet. You lazily drag your eyes over him, sizing him up like you plan to devour him. 

You probably do. 

He's already half hard at the thought.

He wants to lean in and kiss you. He wants to show you how thankful he is for you, what you have done for him, but as you said, you aren't done with him, yet. 

Michael's more alert now - the feelings of drowning in his thoughts long gone and the wonderful drop you gave him fading away. He wants you. He wants you in every way you'll allow him. 

He's yours, heart and soul and body, and you are his. He wants to remind the world of that. He wants to mark you and fill you and claim you in every way that matters - to the world, to his family, to you. 

You lounge there, like you are waiting for him to make a move, but he won't. You told him to behave and even though he's itching to do just the opposite, he'll do as he's told. 

Michael's usually the one more in charge in the bedroom and this dynamic is still new and he doesn't want to mess it up. He didn't know how much he needed it until you proposed putting him on his knees and now he doesn't know if he could live without it. He wants to be your Pup, now and forever. 

You turn from him and arrange the pillows so you can lean back and be slightly propped up as well. You take your time with it and he enjoys just watching you, even if it is a tease.

You finally lay back and relax into the pillows. You go back to looking him up and down and while you do, you spread your legs. 

Michael leans forward so he can crawl on his hands and knees around your leg to get around it. He can't help but smile up at you. 

You reach for him and he very eagerly goes to you. You once again guide him towards you. He keeps his hands on the bed as he leans in to kiss you. 

"Woof," he whispers as your lips meet. 

You huff in fondness before he surges in to deepen the kiss. You melt under him, parting your lips for him and sinking down into your pillows, but he knows better than to think he's in charge. He just needs to be closer to you and you're allowing it. 

Michael resists the urge to grind his hips against yours. He's already worked up again, cock bobbing against his stomach, but he wants to take his time getting you to the same level. He's yours, and he'll do whatever you desire, but after you did such a good job caring for him, he wants to return the favor. 

He kisses down to your neck, nipping lightly as he does. It earns him a pleased sigh. Your fingers find their way to his hair, carding through it again. He's careful to not leave more marks, not because you don't like them, but because you haven't given him the permission again. 

Right now he just wants to touch and feel and be Yours. 

He bends his elbows so he can kiss down your chest without putting any of his weight on you. He nuzzles at your breasts, teasing your nipples with his tongue, but continues his path down instead of latching onto them. Michael wants his face between your thighs again and he doesn't want to wait. You don't redirect him, just drag your nails over his skull.

"Yer fuckin' perfect," he whispers as he lowers himself to lay on the covers. You put your legs over his shoulders and he turns his head so he can kiss your inner thigh, unable to stop the smile forming on his lips. He drags his lips down until he can nose at your slit. 

You're still so very wet given neither of you even attempted to clean up. He makes sure to get your juices all over his mouth, in his mouth. He wants to waste none of it, and once he's licked it all up, he finally starts towards your clit. You give a little whine when he first nudges it and part of him wants to tease, listen to all your pleading little noises because he's so addicted to them, but the weight of the chain hanging from his neck reminds him of his place. 

Michael finally sucks your bud into his mouth and the moan you give is music to his ears. He wants so badly to make you fall apart, to thank you for pulling him out of the darkness he was starting to drown in. 

"Michael," you gasp, arching your back just slightly and he has to resist grinding into the sheets like a teenager. 

He squirms a little to get more comfortable, repositioning his arms to hold your hips up just enough where he has the perfect angle to worship your cunt without making his neck ache. 

And worship Michael does. 

You grip his hair just enough he can feel it but it doesn't hurt and when he does something you like, your fingers curl and you scratch his head. He knows it's developing into something for him, because every time you do it his dick jumps. 

Between the two of you, his comforter is going to be soaked with your juices and his pre-cum. 

He growls at the thought and pulls you closer. You moan, digging your heels into his shoulder blades so you can push your hips up. 

He gets up into a kneel, gripping your hips to raise you up with him. Your knees go over his shoulders and he slides one hand to the small of your back to hold you up. You gasp at the sudden change but trust him to hold you up. Your thighs start to shake around his head. 

"Fuck, Princess," Michael groans when you rock into mouth. 

The hand not holding you up comes up over your belly and down to your clit. His thumb takes over for his mouth and he starts to fuck you with his tongue.

You taste so fucking good and your noises are just spurring him on. 

Your hand is so tight in his hair in the most perfect of ways. It's keeping him right against your cunt. He couldn't ask for anything more perfect. You are starting to pant and gasp. Your walls are pulsing around him and all he can do is chase your noises. 

For the second time that night you come on his tongue. He only pulls away when you tug at his hair. 

Despite how Hungry he is for you and his cock being so hard he feels like he wants to scream, he lowers you down to the bed with all the care in the world. 

He kisses your calf as he removes it from his shoulder. 

You relax into the bed, twisting a little to stretch out, a happy smile on your lips - enjoying the afterglow of your orgasm. He drinks in the sight of you and it makes his heart soar. 

You look so fucking beautiful and when you smile up at him, his brain just tells him to get closer to you.

Michael crawls forward until he can oh so gently kiss your lips. 

"Good boy," you purr, cupping his jaw and using your thumb to pet his cheek. "My good boy."

"I need ya, Princess," he says, pressing into your touch, "please let me have ya. Need to feel ya around my cock. Need all of ya."

You hum against him then take his bottom lip between your teeth to tease before releasing again, "Need you, too. Fuck me, Michael. Fuck me like you mean it."

He doesn't need to be told twice. 

He reaches between you so he can guide his cock to your opening. He rubs his head over your slit, getting himself nice and slick with your juices before starting to sink into you. 

You're so perfectly tight and start squeezing around him before he can fully sheath himself in you. 

"Gonna cum if ya keep that up," Michael grinds out, trying to keep control of himself. He wants to bury himself in you, but he doesn't want to hurt you.

"Want that, Puppy," you pull him back into a sweet kiss and you're biting at his lips again, "Want you to fill me up 'til it's leaking out of me. Want you to fuck me 'til there's nothing left in you to pump into me. Hear me? Can you do that for me, Puppy?"

Michael swears and rocks the rest of the way into you, only to pull back out halfway so he can slam back into you.

You want to be fucked and nothing is going to keep him from giving you just that. 

The pace he sets is brutal. 

But it's what you want and as he fucks you, you push the pillows down the bed until they are under your hips. The angle changes and he can bury himself even deeper into you. He growls out your name, tilting his hips as he pounds into you until his cock starts dragging across that sweet spot inside you. 

"Right there, Michael, puppy, my puppy, right there," you start to chant, wrapping your legs around his waist to keep him deep in you. 

He nods, sweat starting to drip down his face and arms. "Whatever ya want, love, I'm yours. Yours," he pants, words just falling out of him. 

One of your hands grips onto his bicep, nails digging into his flesh so hard it sends jolts down his spine. He gives a hard thrust in response and you cry out again. Your walls are squeezing him, pulling him deeper into you, and he just wants more.

He needs to feel you come undone around him. 

Michael's hand goes to your throat, wrapping around it and squeezing. 

Your entire body goes rigid as your orgasm rips through you. The headboard bounces off the wall repeatedly as he fucks you through it, but the loud thuds are covered by you screaming his name.

You're going to wake the whole damn neighborhood and the mere idea of it gives him a third wind.

He wants everyone to hear you. To know what he does to you. What you bring out of him. 

Michael is so lost in you, in making you feel like you're on another world, he doesn't notice your hands go up to his shoulders until you grab onto him. With a sudden movement, you roll, flipping your positions so he is under you. You snatch the wrist of the hand around your throat and pin it to the bed right above his head, that hungry hungry look back in your eyes. 

He is still inside you somehow and you purposefully squeeze around him. He rolls his head back with a loud groan, "Fuck, pet. Are ya trying to kill me?"

You drag your nails down his chest, digging in enough to leave angry red scratches. Michael hisses, the pain making his dick twitch inside you. You lean down so you can bump your nose against his, a wicked smile playing across your lips, and whisper against his lips, "I'm not your pet tonight, Michael. You're mine."

He almost loses it right then, needing to close his eyes tightly so he doesn't come before you are through with him.

"Put your other hand up, Puppy. Can't have you touching me again without my say so."

He easily obeys, throwing his other hand above his head. You cross his wrists and pushing them down into the bed with one hand.

"I'm sorry," he chokes out, having to focus so he doesn't buck up inside of you. 

Your other hand crawls up and you press it down on his throat, enough he can feel the weight of you, but there is no danger of you hurting him.

You so very slowly start to swirl your hips and Michael throws his head back. You know just how to work him - taking your time in teasing him. You're keeping him fully in you, just grinding your cunt against him. It is completely agonizing in the best of ways. He could spend forever like this and be over the moon with it.

Your lips brush his as you begin to speak in a hushed but authoritative tone.

"You belong to me, Michael Kinsella. Isn't that what you promised me?"

He tries his best to nod, but your hand keeps him in his place, "Aye, yes, I did. I promised ya. I'm yours. I'm yours."

You bite his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. 

His thighs start to shake. It's taking Everything in him to not flip you over and fuck you into the mattress. 

"What was the condition? What was the condition that I get to put Michael Fuckin' Kinsella on his knees and call him My Puppy?"

"That ya be Mine. I needed ya to be mine."

"So make me yours, Michael."

He flips you over and fucks you into the mattress.

He buries his hands into your hair, gripping it and tugging enough to make you cry out again. You squeeze around him and he nearly sees stars. 

He smashes your lips together and all teeth and hunger and Possessive. 

 You're his. 

You've seen all of him, every side of him, the happy, the sad, the anger, the blankness, the coked out of his mind, and quiet somber mornings. You've seen him beaten with a bat and held him after he spent the nights taking lives. 

And you're still his. 

"Michael, please!"

Your cunt clenches around him and you start to milk him as he starts to spill into you. He fucks you until he's completely spent, then all of his strength leaves him and he collapses down onto you. 

You catch him with a happy little noise and bury your nose into his hair. 

He still has enough awareness to pull out of you and roll over onto the bed so he won't crush you. You tuck yourself against him, throwing your arm over his chest and resting your head there with the most content sigh. He wraps his arm around you, holding you close against him. 

The moment he closes his eyes, Michael knows he's going to be asleep. When he looks down at you, he sees you are almost there. You look so peaceful and happy and it makes his heart soar. 

He presses his lips to your forehead. 

"Thank ya, Princess."

You tilt your head up, eyes just cracking open and smile up at him. 

"Thank you, Puppy."

And that's all you need to say between you.

You close your eyes at the same time as Michael and he drifts off without a single thought.

--

a/n: I posted this previously but realized i never posted it on tumblr, so im throwing it out there while I'm unable to write for ATIMY.

[bisclavret]

thinking about these parallel shots from 3x04 and 4x07 and how much history you can feel between them

[dj-wayback]

Nwb i think Sep is just... trying too hard to figure out how to get along with you (which makes it 100% more awkward)

Welp……….now it’s definitely awkward. hah

[dancy-nrew]

have u listened to the ep yet.

I have not im going to today. I'm frightened

[scribefindegil]

several months after Reigensweep I was reading through the entire (filtered) Mob Psycho AO3 tag in reverse chronological order and I love the environmental storytelling of hitting September 2022.

[whatthebodygraspsnot]

mini moodboard story challenge [x] | [x] | [x] | [x] [ more ]

[mrlarkstin]

Even in your dreams, he won't look at you...