#stop-loss order in scalping

[forextrendicator]

Understanding the Differences Between Scalping and Normal Trading Strategies

Understanding the Differences Between Scalping and Normal Trading Strategies

Whether you are new to trading or a seasoned veteran, you will need to understand the differences between scalping and normal trading strategies before you can be successful. While scalping requires you to quickly respond to changes in the market, a normal trading strategy requires you to rely on longer-term trends. Technical analysis Unlike other day trading strategies, scalping is a way of…

[stockexperttrading]

Trading Strategies with Funded Traders Global

This blog explores various trading strategies and provides valuable insights into market analysis, risk management, and developing a successful trading strategy. It covers the three pillars of market analysis: fundamental analysis, technical analysis, and sentiment analysis, and emphasizes the resources and tools offered by Funded Traders Global to enhance traders' market analysis skills. The blog also delves into long-term and short-term trading strategies, including buy and hold, trend following, value investing, day trading, swing trading, and scalping. Additionally, it highlights the importance of risk management in safeguarding capital and explores risk awareness, position sizing, stop-loss orders, and risk-reward ratios. The blog concludes with discussions on developing a trading strategy, backtesting, forward testing, and advanced trading strategies like options, algorithmic, and event-driven trading. Throughout the blog, Funded Traders Global is presented as a trusted partner providing educational materials, expert insights, and cutting-edge tools to support traders in their journey toward success in the financial markets.

[gremlingottoosilly]

The Horror and The Wild (emperor!Konig x fem!Reader)

A day after you and Konig's wedding. Who knew that evil emperors could be so romantic. Tags and TWs: Dub-con, aphrodisiacs, power imbalance, breeding kink, size difference, loss of virginity, age difference(Konig in his forties, Reader in her twenties), medieval/fantasy AU, Konig is a pervert AND an evil dictator Word count: 3256 AO3

— Lift your hips up, princess. You don’t want to waste my seed. 

You whimper, trying to get your legs down, so he can’t force you to spread them anymore – but you feel the hot seed getting back in the swell of your well-used maidenhood, and it makes you whimper only more. What a woeful sight indeed – a fake princess crying over having to take the seed of the strongest person in the whole continent. You know a thousand of women who would beg for an opportunity to have the Emperor’s hands on their hips, guiding them down to admire the look. You know that the real princess – your princess – would never agree to this ordeal, no matter the begging and the bribery. So, you don’t agree too. — In m…my culture, a bride should wait at least a month after the marriage before the…conception, Your Majesty. 

You lie through gritted teeth like it could change anything. Like it could magically force all the seed from your womb to the ground again, to the silk of the sheets under you. Like the mere tradition that you gave birth to the idea of a minute ago would stop you from being König’s breeding mare. Still, you refuse to lift your hips, a small resistance that puts a small chuckle to his lips. He is amused by you – or your stupidity. Princesses are supposed to be spoiled and bratty, right? Yours certainly was. 

— Does your culture also make the bride lie to her husband? 

You lick your lips, forcing them closed. No another quick witty word from you – your lies already got you on the edge of…something. After König announced he knew who you were this entire time, he got you on your back, on your belly, with your hips up and down, your head silly from lack of air as he choked you until you begged for your life – only for him to kiss you over and over. Feeding your womb with his seed until there was a bump, not giving any chance that the baby wasn’t there yet. If anything, he conquered your body the same way he did your country – and left your bruised hips as a reminder. The handprinted bruises covering your skin like the finest fabrics of the gown he got you. 

— If you wish to order me dead, your majesty. 

— Death doesn’t mean anything here, meine Liebe. 

— Then banish me. For the lies and the betrayal of a royal…

He laughs – it’s a nice sound, still, something in your deprived mind likes the way you make him laugh and chuckle. Something in your head makes you feel as dizzy as you did when he cut off the air in your throat, every time that cold eyes of his look at you with warmth. heated obsession, whatever that is – you refuse to believe it was genuine, as you were borrowing your princess’s identity, but now, when he laughed and spoke about his true intentions, you weren’t sure if a pathetic and lowly lady-in-waiting is as safe in you as you thought.

— If being as stupid as you are is a punishable crime, then I’d finalyl have a good reason to kill off most of my harem. He laughs again, a hand in your hair – getting out all of the fancy pins and bows and dead flowers that were forced to be held in your crown and on your head. You groan in pleasure as the pins scraping your scalp are finally removed – and try to get back at his hand immediately when he comes to squeeze your breasts again. Not for any reason – simply because you happened to have the aspects of your body that he could touch. 

— Would be much safer to get a woman from a harem, sir. Not…not me. 

— And if I wanted just you? 

König looks at you – trembling, loved out completely. Covered in his marks, as many bites as a princess could take. Even being a servant, you’re almost as gentle and reserved as a real deal – but gods, if you weren’t the cutest thing he ever saw in that damned ugly country of yours. Hating nobility as much as he hated speaking to his troops not as their commander, König never particularly enjoyed the idea of having to marry some bitchy royal daughter…you, however, were the loophole in the god’s contract. A gift, just for him. 

— Your council would make me disappear for deceiving you in the first place. 

— No one would dare to leave the empire without heirs. 

— You could have another one. There are plenty of princesses out there, Your Highness. 

— And I don’t have enough patience to entertain you trying to sell me the idea of your freedom. Do you know what relief I felt when you were the one to meet me? 

You don’t answer, instead prompting to just listen. You have good ears for listening – for allowing others to talk, so you wouldn’t be made to fill in awkward silences. König loves that and appreciates that. Finally, someone who can just be silent – even if he also has nothing to say, at least you’re scared and angry enough to dismiss him anyway. At least your unwillingness is making him less awkward at participating in the conversation. 

— You knew who I was all along? 

— Princesses are pampered. Even the poorest kingdom would never have a princess with hands as hard-working as yours, Schatz. 

He takes his hands in yours – no matter the healing creams you rubbed in them, no matter the lack of actual physical labor, even the smallest tasks you performed for the princess, the tiniest exposure to cleaning supplies that would make the toughest skin crack, left a small traces in the skin of your palm. Fingers with clean nails – short, practical, indicating the need to have your hands in working order all of the time. Indicating your lack of a servant who would do everything – opening buttons on clothes, embroidery, and washing oneself’s body. indicating that you were said servant. 

You look embarrassed that he pointed that out. Scared, almost. 

— Are my hands too ugly for you, sir? 

He can see the tremble in your fingers. He traces them with his – large, calloused hands keeping you in place. Rough skin and multiple ridges of scars over the darkened skin made you shiver from the contrast of the sensation – those are the hands of a ruler who isn’t afraid of taking a sword in his hands. Who almost got his arms chopped off for this altogether. 

Then – he kisses them. 

One finger at a time, every ridge and bump in your skin deserves a graze of emperor’s teeth as he tugs on rough skin around your knuckles. Your hands are soft, softer than a normal maid would have – but changed from the work you had to put. Every kiss and lick doesn’t make them gentle, doesn’t remove the experience you had – in braiding hair, in washing clothes, in cleaning up after a royal mess. It doesn’t change who you were, but with every little praise he whispers – crude language, really, but the affection in his words scares you more than any foreign insult could – with every toss of his lips over your palms, he is changing who you are. Who will you become in just a week or two. 

He calls your hands beautiful – in North tongue, with a smile on his face. König loves to explore, and your body is a beautiful place for him to be. Your hands are the best place he could have been in the morning. 

Some historians are already saying he has done more to this country than any other ruler ever could. But oh, the emperor knows that the most important thing he did here was kiss your fingers. Over and over. 

You snap your arms back when he finally breaks down, starting to bite – the softer skin of your palms falling victim to his sharp teeth. Emperors aren’t supposed to have sharp teeth but for all he knows, he was born from a dog and raised by one. A wolf in wolf’s clothing. 

— Your hands belong to an empress. 

— Thought I was a regent. 

— You are, mein Schatz. Can’t trust you with a country, ja? 

You laugh, but there are tears in your eyes. Loss of whatever authority you could have as the princess's personal maid – her friend if he knew anything about royals and their habits. Scheisse, he was the emperor for 10 long years and still didn’t get a hang of it. Might be something he had to be born with – such a shame, really. Should have told his mother to never give birth to a rat that would usurp the throne once out of the crib. 

He loves to see you weak, trembling like this – like a proper bride should. Like a real princess, the one whose manners should be enough to fool the people and the dumbest of his court. The smartest ones could always agree to put their tongues up their behinds – if they don’t want to get their heads chopped off by his blade, without even bothering an executioner to do it. 

— But you can trust me with your children?

— This empire needs an heir. As much as I can rule forever. 

— No one is immortal. 

— Ach. Did Sebastian forget to visit you before the wedding, little princess? 

He is mocking you, again and again – he laughs with death and you hate it, you hate yourself, you loathe him and his laughs and his crooked smile and the scars covering his skin and…he kisses your hands again, then – dips your hands up in that mask of his. Lets you feel the skin, involuntarily trace your fingertips all over everything hidden – you touch his teeth, his fangs, and you gasp in shock. So, the monster has lips. So, the monster has thin lips and wet mouth, and he dips his tongue all over the traces of knuckles and…

König knows you’d never agree to be his in a way that he wants you too – but this is fine. He can work you around. He can break you. He can please you. What a wonderful job would this be. 

— Your court would soon find out I’m not the one. 

— They know how to keep their mouths shut. You would, however, have to deal with my harem personally. 

— Did you intended to add my princess to your harem too? 

— If I knew that you wouldn’t take her place? Of course. I never visited the place for the exact reason I didn’t bother to find your patron. 

— Are you really satisfied with the scraps? 

Oh, his poor, dumb girl – he was feeding off scraps since he was ripped away from his mom’s tit. You were the only fancy meal he ever liked in his life – and gods, if he wouldn’t give up anything to taste you again. 

On the other side, however, he can do just that. 

König dips his head down, the traces of his hood laying on your labia. You whimper. 

— I never ate anything as exquisite as you, little princess. 

— I’m n…why do you keep calling me this? 

— You will be my princess. Forever trapped on my lap, on the floor, chained to my throne like a…

With each word, his tongue laps on the glossiness of your lower lips. He gives your maiden a little kiss all over, he digs down like it’s a fancy meal indeed – the scrawny hairs of his stubble make you whimper every time they graze your clit. König has a fleeting thought of eating his cum out of your poor, sore body – that it wouldn’t be wise, that it would make the process of impregnating you slower. Then, he thinks – he can just fill you up with his seed later. And in the evening. And tomorrow. 

He pushes his tongue down, deep – you gasp, you get your hands on his hood, not trying to tear it apart, but laying there like a scared maiden. You were one – you are one, after all. Gods, he could just keep you here forever if it weren’t for the country needing its empress. 

König kisses you all over – you’re still smelling like rose water, like fragrances that were forcefully rubbed on your skin right before the wedding. A proper lady, you were bathed in salts and oils like a kitchen in poor man’s soup – but weren’t you looking beautiful in that dress of yours. Too bad he had to rip it eventually, stepping on it accidentally quite a few times as he was getting you water. Your little trick with the herb did make you thirsty in all possible ways. 

You don’t know a lot about royal weddings, but you’re pretty sure that the emperor shouldn’t be sprawled on his giant bed like this, eating you out like you were the roasted lamb served at yesterday’s feast. You moan when the material of his mask is getting tricky with your gentle parts when the rough fabric is scrapping your thighs in a way that is far from arousal – and then he leans in, a head laying on your tummy. Your princess parts are swollen from his actions – and lack thereof. You almost think you could buck your hips up like a… König takes off his hood. 

— Wh…what are y… You don’t master enough words before he is forcing his face against yours before his lips finally lay down on yours properly – and gods isn’t this a beautiful sight. The emperor, the vile conqueror, your biggest enemy, and your husband – smiling like a boy when he got free candy, like a cat who got the cream – like a man so in love, it makes him unable to stop smiling while looking at his wife. 

He isn’t pretty in the sense that some of the rulers can be pretty – he isn’t hideous either. A rough face doesn’t look like something that belongs to a royal family – big nose, small lips, chiseled chin and not a sight of inbreeding. You try to see if his ears are wrong, at least, but they are fine – not caring about a bit of chopped-off bits, probably from old battles. He is rugged and handsome and rough and you hate that red stubble on his chin and his gorgeous ginger hair – if you were forced to see this face every day, you might give up and like him. It’s a good thing he wears the mask most of the time, isn’t it? 

— You don’t like how your emperor looks, little princess? He laughs again, then – cups your face in his hands and kisses you all over. Again and again, his lips fell on yours making you feel dumb, making you feel dizzy and just a bit charmed – like the potion you drank yesterday hadn’t fully worn off. You can taste your own pleasure on his lips and it makes you embarrassed – a proper lady should never enjoy a process as dirty as making love – your lower parts should only exist for him to take pleasure in ruining it, and for you – to birth little princes. 

But König bows down before your lower lips, but König presses his tongue against your special spot again and again, and it makes you wonder if he recites the anthem of the empire on the little swollen bud between your legs – for his actions are filled with devotion that should only be reserved for one’s country, not for just a poor, dumb handmaiden whose only job was to lie and to protect. But…is it really all you want to do now? Just lay here and let him take him, without a chance of enjoying him playing with you if only for just a bit longer? — I…I believe you look fine, Your Majesty. 

— Just fine? 

He smiles and kisses you down there again – the aftermath of your pleasure makes his lips feel too hard on your swollen parts, the climax had taken everything from you left only feelings, as naked and trembling as you are right now – and, by god, if you aren’t feeling like sold and set in pieces. You are selling your dignity right now, the loyalty to your kingdom is getting grazed by each new stroke of his tongue. You close your eyes and moan – for you can’t hold off your pleasure anymore. For you don’t see a reason in trying to pretend you don’t enjoy being treated like a princess after a life of servitude. 

— You are fine for an emperor, my…my husband. You struggle to say it – but you do have to say it eventually, at least in front of the servants. If he isn’t intent on keeping you locked away in a tower, pumping out babies like his little servant – maybe he wouldn’t want to keep you open for the world to take. You were a secluded princess kept in shadows before he discovered you, after all. You served the one, at least. 

— Trying to cover the harsh words with honey, ja? I killed for less, mein Schatz. 

— I assume you won’t kill me before the first son, at least? 

— Wouldn’t kill you even if you’d be barren. I’d rather leave the empire to rot without an heir than choose someone else in your place. 

— That is awful news for your empire. 

— Our empire can rot without you, Meine Liebe. Never wanted the damned crown in the first place. 

— But you’re fine with putting it on the head of a commoner? 

— I was a commoner once. Know better than anyone else that a princess would never make a good wife. 

You never studied his rise to power – the latest politics were hidden from you and the princess, the king never wanted to taint his daughter with such silly things as rising stars of the political arena – and he failed to mention the empire that was once rotting from its head getting a ruler who would take half of the continent and a daughter of every kingdom in his harem as the spoils of war. 

He lays down beside you, taking you in his arms again. his hair flows all around you – he smells like blood, still, even after so many hours spent bathing in your shared musk. You wonder if everything he had done with the forbidden rituals made him like this – face torn and stitched back together again, harsh scars that can only be made from a blade or claws of a giant animal – and he pushes you down to press your face against his chest, taking in the feeling of laying beside your husband. 

— Don’t you have something that needs to be done, Your Highness? 

— The most important thing I need to do is lay between your legs, little princess. And you’re too swollen to be doing that. 

You press your forehead against his chest. Taking it him and the light tan of his skin – you wonder where he could get it, if he almost never took off his armor. His face is as pale as it can be, and it makes him look a little silly when naked – but you refuse to smile and make him angry. — I thought you wanted me to meet your harem. 

— They can wait. We need to give them time to prepare the poison for you, right? 

He laughs and you don’t find anything better to do than to press your head against his chest and close your eyes. The royal visits really can wait until tomorrow.

[cutecatlov3r]

kinktober: virginity~ gojo satoru

synopsis: your sweet talking sensei wants to teach you what it's like to be fucked by him and his huge cock !

warnings/tw: age gap!, teacher x student, blowjob, raw sex, piv, begging, unprotected sex, praise, breeding, manipulation, toxic gojo, porn without a plot(?), and virginity loss.

character ai bot that I made in honor of this: didn't make one for this ;(

not proofread // two posts for day 7?!?!

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you sat on his desk. kicking your feet in a sort of childish sense as you looked up at him. your clothes all off for him. you smiled at him like the innocent girl you were. he stared down at you, caressing your chin. he had a smile on as well, he wasn't smiling at you per say. he was smiling at the idea that he was gonna use your little body like a fuck toy soon. his dick was already hard, out, and ready to fuck you.

little twitches going through his cock as he stared down at you and your perfect tits. he was pulsing, eager to stick it deep inside of your hot and warm pussy. he knew you were wet, you were basically like a curious puppy that wanted his long dick to teach you how to be obedient to him. he loved virgins. the idea of you being soul tied to him forever had his dick drooling of precum.

poor, poor y/n.

before this, you two had a simple conversation on whether or not, you, his sweet little student was a virgin, when you said yes he couldn't help but want to take your virginity. you agreed! well sort of, at first it was an immediate no... but then he started to sweet talk to you. he talked about how cute your young body was, how easily wet virgins get and how it would make you, specifically you, his favorite student.

"gojo-sensei, what now?" you hummed, looking into his blue eyes. a small pout on your lips as you started to get impatient.

he took his hand off your chin. "hmmmm, why don't ya give it a kiss, sweetheart?~" he teased, grabbing his dick and tapping his fleshy pink tip against your soft lips.

you looked at his cock curiously as you gave it a small kiss. it twitched as you did, causing gojo to chuckle slightly. you can taste him on your lips, licking your lips so that your taste buds can get familiar with his precum. the small bit of cum tasted bitter, hint of sweetness, nothing too bad.

"again," he ordered in his sweet voice.

as you leaned in for another kiss, he shoved his dick past your plump lips, smirking. he knew exactly what he was doing. you looked up at him as you suckled on his tip, seeing in porn videos that guys usually liked that, too scared to fit it whole in your mouth, you knew you'd start gagging.

gojo was looked down upon at you as you suckled on his tip, feeling a tickling sensation, he liked it, but it'd feel better if it was fully in your mouth. he wanted to feel the insides of your cheeks, the back of your throat, he didn't want your attention to just be on his tip. you didn't know that, wanting to suck on his tip like a little hamster.

"baby, open wider f'me okay?" he asked, gently, knowing that his next actions weren't gonna be too gentle.

you nod, opening your mouth slightly wider. he gladly took this opportunity to shove his cock halfway into your mouth. you choked slightly, not used to having anything this big in your mouth. one of your eyes was shut as you looked at him, trying to get more familiar with his taste and length. your tongue ran underneath his shaft, trying to push it down as far as you could.

he grinned, jolting his hips forward more to shove it down, one hand caressing the back of your head. his hand was slowly pushing his fat cock down your throat more. fingers gripping your hair slightly at the scalp.

you focused on your breathing, trying to breathe through your nostrils. he enjoyed how well you were taking his cock.

"sucha good girl," he hummed, looking down at you. watching as your nose finally touched his white hairs that rested above his dick. you had it fully down your throat, the gagging wouldn't stop. tears brimming your eyes, feeling overwhelmed. but he didn't care, watching your struggle, keeping your head there for a bit, wanting to feel the inside of your throat.

after seeing that you were struggling to breathe, he pulled it out of your mouth fully, smirking at the spit that ran down your chin.

"so cute," he praised, wiping your chin. you whimpered to his touch, your thighs clenching together on instinct, needing friction. after those sweet words he spoke, you knew you were starting to feel heat in your core, you wanted him to get rid of it. "turn around for me," he smiled, giving you some space to bend over his desk.

"yes sir..." you reply, bending over his desk, giving him a full view of your wet cunt and ass. you looked over your shoulder to look at his face, seeing that he stroked the head of his cock gently. he looked at you, taking a step forward. he gave you a smile when he tapped his fat mushroom tip against your folds.

"g'na make me feel good, huh?~" he teased, rubbing the tip slowly at your entrance. it could slip right in if he tried but he held back those urges, teasing your needy hole. "suckin' me right in y/n, so dirty, sucha dirty girl," he continued.

you whimpered at his actions, feeling impatient. "stop teasing," you whined, trying to push back against him, he didn't let that happen, backing away as well. pushing your back down slightly to arch it more.

"don't be impatient," he chuckled. "hmmm, beg for it," he shrugged to himself, looking down at your cunt and his cock. "beg for your sensei to fill this pussy up with his cum," his voice going slightly lower.

your knees felt weak, thinking of the idea of begging your older sensei to fuck you. you wanted him so bad, you wanted his dick to stretch your tight walls that have never been filled by any man before.

"please gojo-sensei... please put it inside," you plead.

"hmmm, beg some more and I'll think about it," his voice trailing, hands grabbing the fat of your ass, lifting it to see your cunt and ass better.

"please!... please sensei! i'll be a good girl for you," you frowned, hands gripping the edge of his desk.

"this is my pussy right? only mine?" he asked, a curious tone in his voice. he sounded so innocent, yet here he was, tip pressed against your pussy, not in.

"only yours gojo-senei! i'll never let anyone fuck me, only yo-"

he shoved his thickness inside of you. those words... those words made his stomach turn, made him feel even more horny than he already was. you choked on your own spit, mind fogging. his cock was squeezed down inside of your tight velvety walls. he looked down at the scene, waiting slightly for you to get adjusted.

it hurt, it hurt so bad... but the warmth of his dick made it feel slightly better.

"s-sensei," you squeaked.

"holy shit! you're so tight, sweetheart," he let out a shaky breath, a furrow of his eyebrows on his face. his cock rutted once in your pussy to get you used to it. you squeaked again, feeling yourself clench around him. your legs were shaking a bit, cheat heaving up and down, trying to focus. "ready?" he asked, his tone low.

"y-yes sensei," you whimper, placing your head on his desk, it felt too heavy to hold up at this point.

he exited slowly before pounding back into you, your gummy walls contracting against his hungry cock. you swore you could feel it in your stomach. but that wasn't even on your mind. what was on your mind was the fact that he kept repeating those movements, hitting a spot deep inside of you that made you see stars.

"g'na stretch you out, so- so ngh..." he babbled, speeding up his pace slightly. he didn't take his time pounding deep inside of you, instead he sped up, hitting your good spots over and over. it wasn't even intentional, he was honestly just trying to use your body like his personal fleshlight. "gonna look so good with my cum spilling out of ya," he groaned, abusing your cunt by slamming deep inside of it. he wanted to feel all of you, he wasn't going to give you a break anytime soon.

you were being fucked so good that your mind was going blank. your moans being mixes of whines and even slight cries. it was way too much for your little virgin self to handle.

"fuck! so pretty baby...! you'd look so good full of my cum- so so good!" he rambled, slamming your hips down harder against him. it was at a constant pace, he loved feeling your walls twitch around him, he could get used to this. "mine, you're my girl," he thrusted into you, pounding your hips down with his hands. it was crazy, the way he was doing that was perfect, he was pulling your hips away before pounding into you at an amazing synchronization. he's definitely done this before, at this point you don't even care.

his cock brushed against the spongy part of your insides, causing you to cry out in pleasure. your cries making gojo go faster, feeling a bead of sweat roll down his face.

"moan my name!"

"gojo-sensei!" you cried, fingernails digging into the wood of his desk. you were clenched around him tightly, he loved it.

"g'na breed this tigh- tight agh~" he moaned, pushing himself to his limits. "tight pussy!" he continued, pistoning his hips faster. he was feeling his balls tighten.

your eyes rolled back as his balls slapped against your clit.

he kept pumping you with his cock until he started to feel his orgasm build up, he could feel that the tip of his dick was ready to erupt his cum inside of you. so he went at a fast pace for you. "cumming! fuck baby!" he moaned. "i'm- yeah!"

splurts of his cum shot into your pussy, the warmness of his cum making you feel so full. ropes after rope flooded your womb, he couldn't stop cumming. he needed to fill you up. he continued to move, to ride out his high.

you were crying out his name, exhausted and drained of your energy.

after riding out his high, he pulled out, smiling when he saw his cum leaking down your thighs.

"such a good girl," he praised, leaning down to kiss your shoulder.

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[femmefatalevibe]

Femme Fatale Guide: Healthy Habits To Look & Feel Your Best Without Restriction or Unrealistic Routines

Realistic ways to maintain a healthy life/body/appearance (size and weight are all personal, not the most important metric – for certain). No diet culture or delulu-land tips here.

What I've done to maintain my 30-pound weight loss for over a decade, glowing clear skin (no pimples or discoloration, etc.), and super healthy, full & shiny hair, still living life and enjoying it – the mindful way.

Eat home-cooked meals & (plant-based) whole foods – 90-95% of the time

Incorporate at least 1 salad into my daily routine (either a large, hearty lunch salad or a simple green salad as a starter with dinner)

Include at least 1 fruit/vegetable in every meal or snack

Never restrict food groups – whole grains/potatoes, healthy fats, protein-rich plant foods, and produce are all essential to consume every day

Focus on meals, but have whole food snack options on hand to enjoy if genuinely hungry (mainly fruit, lupini beans, edamame, carrots/celery/cucumber with hummus, plain popcorn, handful of almonds/cashews)

Have breakfast after one coffee (before a second) and have dinner late enough (8-9:30 pm) to curb late-night hunger

Only have fruit and tea after dinner; Always stop consuming food at least 3 hours before bed for better sleep/digestion

Order whatever I want when going out to eat, but split dessert

Have at least one indulgent meal/dessert per week

No sugary cocktails – wine, champagne/prosecco, martinis, gin & tonic, margarita, French Connection, Sambuca, Grappa, tequila on the rocks, etc. are great options. Bellinis/fruit plus wine/spirits cocktails are a good middle ground. Sugary drinks worsen the hangover – big-time

Perceive healthy eating as a form of enjoyment, creativity, and nourishment, not restriction or deprivation (it's not if done liberally enough)

Consume a vitamin B12 and vitamin D supplement daily. Keep digestive enzymes on hand for when they're necessary

Always have a large glass of water first thing in the morning (before coffee) and by my side all day long

No soda, juices, sugary drinks, etc. Black coffee, tea, and water only on the daily – wine and no-sugar alcoholic drinks on rare occasions. Smoothies can be a great snack or breakfast, though!

Incorporate an (almost) daily walk into my schedule as a form of exercise and a mental health reset (I aim for 4-5 miles/10Kish steps per day on average)

Do short, low-impact strengthen training exercises 3x a week (15-30 mins each usually) for bone health & toning

Never forcing myself to do strenuous exercise/workout formally in a gym – it's not for me; it doesn't make me feel/look better and throws my hunger & energy levels way off. To each their own, though

Have a variety of playlists ready to go for waking up, working, dancing, walking/workouts, doing chores, and reading/relaxing

Internalizing that sexual health is a core aspect of your health & well-being – on all counts

Maintaining a simple skincare routine 2x per week with high-quality products and a couple of weekly treatments

Prioritizing my body care routine with as much as my facial skincare routine

Wearing at least SPF 30 daily

Exfoliating 2-3x per week

Learning what hair products work for my hair type; Using a deep conditioning mask and a scalp mask weekly

Using only cold water when washing my hair

Incorporating face & body massages into my weekly at-home routine

Using Uriage lip balm, hand cream, and deodorant religiously

Flossing 1-2 times a day/using an electric toothbrush

[hyuukas]

sexual tension with taesan or leehan 😩😩😩😩

“can i be honest?” — bsf!leehan

warnings: GN!READER (chest but no size mentioned), stress, weight loss, bath and nudity, massage, suggestive but not quite smut. not proofread

give feedback if possible! and lmk if you want a pt 2

leehan is so worried about you after exam week in college. he’s seen you study for over a month with almost no breaks, sleep deprived and losing weight from not taking care of yourself properly.

when you come out of your last exam, he’s waiting for you at the door with a cute muffin, grabbing your hand and leading you to his car.

on the way to your house, he asks about the test while sweetly rubbing your thigh and looking at you attentively in the red lights, letting his gaze linger on your lips, which makes your cheeks warm.

you confusedly follow him into YOUR apartment, seeing him take your coat and enter your bathroom, filling in the tub with warm water and dropping a bath bomb in your favourite scent.

—take off your clothes, angel, you deserve a break.

you could only nod at his soft words, turning around to leave the room to do so until you hear him speak again.

—wait! you can do it here, i won’t look unless you want me to.

you hum, taking off your hoodie and sweatpants before looking at him, silently asking him to turn around before discarding the rest of your clothing.

you hop into the tub, the young man turning around when your chest is almost covered by the coloured water, seeing you relax. he leaves for a few minutes before coming back with a cup of hot chocolate, which he hands to you, watching you drink it.

—that’s right, baby, you like it?

you hum, closing your eyes. he helps you wash your hair afterwards, massaging your scalp and gently drying it off in front of the mirror, admiring your features.

he stops you when you reach out to your closet to cover yourself over your pyjamas, giving you one of his oversized hoodies. “thought you’d like this better” he said.

he orders food for both of you and lets you pick a movie, watching the film in his arms. his fingertips rub your sides under your clothes, making goosebumps kiss your skin.

—you’re so tense, angel, do you need a massage?

he had seen your posture while studying and knew your back muscles couldn’t possibly be fine. therefore he makes you lay on your tummy and take the hoodie off along with your pj top until he can try to release the knots in your shoulders.

you grunt at his actions, moaning when he touches a especially sensitive zone. his body straddles your hips and your mind suddenly comes clear with what you feel pressing against you.

—hyunnie, a-are you hard?

he didn’t answer, working on a knot in your back that made you moan, feeling flustered. he made his way down your back, helping you relax your body until he got to your hips.

—can i be honest? —he asked, waiting until you hummed in response— i really wanna touch you, angel.

you sat up, covering your chest with a towel and looking up at him. leehan was worried he had made you uncomfortable, even possibly ruined your friendship.

—don’t you wanna kiss me first?

[reysdriver]

Wife | S.B.

(part 1 to this fic) You and Sirius had been married in a wedding arranged by your pureblood parents, and he's the only one you think to go to after running away — sirius x fem!pureblood!reader hurt/comfort

warnings: abusive families (for both reader and Sirius), forced marriage, abuse, mentions of injury, angst

words: 2k

A frown sat still across your face while your mother tightly strung up the thin braids in your hair with bobby pins. You held back winces every time the metal poked into your already-pained scalp.

She fixed the last braid into the hairdo, then stood in front of you, judging coldly.

"Am I presentable, Mother?" You asked, snark laced in every word.

Normally, you would never dare speak to a relative like this, but today was your wedding day. Your bags were already packed for school in a week, so you wouldn't face her for a while. And, in two years, you were to graduate from Hogwarts and move in with the Blacks, so you really had nothing to lose when it came to your awful pureblood family.

"This attitude is exactly why your marriage prospects were so slim." She tells you. 

They were slim, and your family had warned you several times while arranging the marriage that you would have to be with him forever. They said a divorce would be twice as shameful for your family name since you wouldn't be able to find a new husband. There was a limited dating pool for sacred twenty eight Gryffindor teens who were openly opposed to their family values. 

You tried not to feel upset at the memory of all those times your family had called you a disgrace, claiming that's why you and Sirius Black were perfect for eachother. 

"Well, there's nothing else we can do before the wedding, we should be on our way to the ceremony as soon as possible." Your mother announced curtly. 

You stood up, your giant wedding dress feeling heavier than ever. You placed the veil over your face, the thin material clouding your vision slightly. 

There was no turning back now. There was never any turning back since you had little say in the whole matter, but now there was really no escape. 

Your mother surveyed your look one more time, lacking any visible emotion that should be present on one's daughter's wedding day.

"Don't slouch or speak without being spoken to. Don't embarrass our family name." She ordered.

Although you were young and had no intentions of really being married, you were counting down the days until you would be away from your family.

You said nothing in return as you started to walk towards the door. Your father was standing just outside, ready to walk you down the aisle.

He didn't say anything to you that wasn't already said by your mother, which made you want to roll your eyes harder than anything that day.

Once you started walking down the carpeted aisle, you felt as if all sound flushed from the room. It wasn't that the sounds had really stopped, it was just that you were so nervous, you couldn't process any noise.

Sirius looked handsome, to say the least. You felt slightly guilty for focusing on his looks, but you two were getting married. You were in the same classes at school and you had caught yourself gazing at him in the common room a few times, but never thought about marrying him before your parents set it up.

Your father let go of your arm, and you stepped up to the altar, parallel to Sirius. You looked into his captivating eyes and accepted your fate.

✦✧✦✧✦

Even though you were married, you barely spoke to Sirius. A few words during classes or in the common room, but that was it. You both thought it was best to push each other away and pretend everything was normal for as long as you could. A kiss at the wedding and a long conversation when you were together in his room after the wedding was all that had happened, and it was how you wanted to keep things for the time being. 

Sirius was nowhere near the husband your parents had always wanted for you, but you were at a loss. You tried one last time to think of solutions as you stood on the Potters' porch. You knocked on the door and waited for someone to answer. 

An older woman came to the door; you knew it was James' mother since you had seen her on Platform 9 ¾ several times before. She looked shocked at your appearance, and you couldn't blame her. Your eyes red and exhausted, multiple cuts on your face, and blotchy skin caused by a mix of snow and crying. 

"Is Sirius here?" You asked with a sob before she could say anything. 

"Oh dear, come inside, love. Quickly, you look like you've just been dragged here from across the country." The woman placed a hand on your shoulder, ushering you inside her house. 

You let out another sob and more tears started falling down your face the moment she closed the door and you felt the house's heat. "I'm sorry." You mumbled. 

"Don't be sorry, darling. Just come with me so I can make you a nice cup of hot tea." 

While she walked you to the kitchen, she had introduced herself formally. She also recognised you, knowing your name and likely more about your family. It was rare for a person of pureblood status to not recognise you, so you weren't fazed by it. 

You were sitting at her kitchen table, and she handed you a steaming teacup. You took a sip, ignoring how painfully hot it was against your tongue and your throat. 

"Thank you." You sniffled, taking another scalding sip. "I don't mean to burden you, I just need to see Sirius. Please tell me he's here."

"He is, yes. May I ask why you need to see him?" She asked, standing up and walking towards a set of stairs. 

You looked down shamefully, almost embarrassed to admit it. 

"I'm his wife."

Euphemia's eyes widened, and although she had been nothing but sweet to you, you were afraid she was judging. You hoped she would understand as a fellow pureblood, but you knew that your families were vastly different and she likely chose her husband for love. 

She opened her mouth, and you half-expected her to string insults at you and your family. Instead, she looked to the top of the stairs and called for Sirius. "There's a girl here who's asking for you." 

You heard a laugh from James and Sirius, followed by two sets of footsteps coming down the stairs. When they reached Euphemia, she directed Sirius to you, telling him 'your wife is in the kitchen'. 

Sirius walked into the room, and he looked heartbroken to see you. It took just barely a glance for him to understand what was happening. You were going through the same thing he was just a year ago. 

Your head dropped, once again feeling a needless feeling of shame overtake you. 

"I'm sorry." You mumbled as he walked towards you. You weren't quite expecting him to embrace you in a tight hug, but he did, and you weren't going to push him away. "I'm sorry, Sirius. I just had to get away from them. I didn't know where else to go." 

He placed a gentle kiss on your hairline as he rubbed your back. "Don't be sorry, love. I understand. You made the right decision to come here."

He unwrapped his arms from around your torso and looked at your shaking figure. You could see he pitied you, and that felt awful. You had been raised to never let anyone take pity on you. 

Euphemia stood at the other side of the room with a raised eyebrow. "Sirius Black, why didn't you say anything about being married?"

He turned to her, about to explain when you rushed to his defence. "It's not his fault, Mrs. Potter. We both just wanted to pretend it never happened for as long as possible. That was a decision we both made right away."

"We don't wear the rings at school, and we barely even talk to each other." He added. 

"Well, that's a problem." Euphemia told him. "If you had shown you cared about this poor girl, maybe she could have escaped her family before it escalated to this! You could have taken her with you when you first came here."

Neither you or Sirius were going to argue with the woman. She walked towards you with concern in her eyes, then stopped to examine you just as Sirius had done a few seconds previous. 

"We need to get you cleaned up, healed in any way we can, and into some warm clothes. You can stay for as long as you'd like."

You didn't want the family to go through any trouble for you. "No, I don't want to be a burden."

"Stop that, darling. You should stay here, we'll be more than happy to give you anything you need. And what you need first is to get healed, come with me. I can fix you up just fine."

You stood up, ready to go wherever she wanted to take you, but Sirius placed a gentle hand on your wrist that made you shift your attention to him. 

"I can take care of her, Effie." He told her. 

"Don't be ridiculous, Sirius. As much as you want to help, this is important and needs to be taken care of by someone with experience."

"I do have experience. I was in her place just a year ago. I know exactly what she's going through." 

His hand kept its place on your wrist, but he loosened his grip. His eyes were soft and gentle. Both you and Euphemia could tell her really did want to help. He was almost pleading silently, and who were you to decline your husband of that?

Before you could accept his offer, Euphemia spoke up for you, not willing to argue any more as long as it helped you. 

"Alright. I'll get James to make up a guest room for you, dear."

She walked ahead, instructing James to prepare a place for you to sleep while you and Sirius stayed back on the main floor. 

Breaking the tense silence between you, Sirius apologised. "I'm sorry, she's right, I knew what your family was like and I left you there. I should have cared for you." 

"Don't be sorry. You didn't need to do anything, I wasn't your responsibility."

"You're my wife." He said, soft desperation soaking that last word. "And I'm your husband."

"Sirius, we're strangers, classmates at best. We don't even speak at school, let alone invite each other to run away to safety together. Our laundry may have been mixed up before, but other than accidentally sharing ties, we're not close at all."

"I wish we could be. I always have." 

You were shocked by the confession. For practically being strangers, that was quite an admittance of feelings. You could already feel the tears coming back to your eyes and you didn't quite know why they were so insistent on falling now. 

He continued on. "I was too proud to admit it before. All because you were like me and our families chose us for each other. I've always watched you read in the common room and tried to muster up whatever I needed to ask you to be partners in class, but I was just so focused on going against my family to get close to you. I'm sorry." 

"Again, you don't need to be sorry." You said. You weren't sure that was true, but you had thought the exact same thing about him a few times throughout the years, so you couldn't blame him at all. "I just want to go upstairs, and we can talk more later."

"Okay, let's get you fixed up, then."

He gave you another sweet kiss on the forehead, then he wrapped his arm around you while you walked upstairs together. 

[vivid-ink]

A Turn of Tables

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Lucy Gray Baird

Summary: It always seemed to come down to this dichotomy between them, his need to be in control and her desire to be free. She shrugged and narrowed her eyes at him with a pout, “You call it uncertainty. I say it’s spontaneity. There’s fun in being wild.” “Wildness is dangerous.” He replied. Immediately, her mood turned coquettish and she smirked at him, her dark eyes teasing, “Do you think I’m dangerous, Coriolanus Snow?” She disliked his constant need to be in control, but she relished the challenge of unravelling him, even if just for a short while. Lucy Gray was no stranger to the drives of men. She lived by her charms and spread kisses like honey to charm her audience. Men were all the same. She knew exactly how to unpick her beautiful Capitol boy. She knew how to drive him wild.

Warnings: Mature content, sexual content, MDNI. Content: Power dynamics, Lucy Gray's internal dialogue, handjob/blowjob. Word count: 2,999

Author's Note: I've officially ventured into the Hunger Games: TBoSaS fandom! Absolutely loving the ride so far. The original novel is great & the movie was absolutely brilliant too. Here's a little drabble that I couldn't shake and just had to put on paper. It is set within the events of the original novel so is canon compliant. I hope you enjoy it!

Tagging: @iluliluu @neteluvr @luvteyams

There it was again, that glazed and faraway look in his eyes. Those baby blues once so innocent and unguarded, now distant and cold; calculating. A deep knit was etched between his fair brows, pulling them low as he dwelled upon his ruminations.

Coriolanus Snow had changed.

Apart from the obvious loss of his flaxen curls, which had been shorn down to a scant prickle of blonde over his scalp, the changes had been subtle. However, Lucy Gray perceived the shift in him nonetheless. The naïve and warm boy who’d first greeted her at the train station, who’d mentored her and kept her alive in the Capitol arena, was gone. He’d evolved and been replaced by a young man with storm clouds brewing in his eyes, whose keen taste for order and control made him all at once her polar opposite and her most dangerous fascination.

The lilting hum of her latest melody dissolved in her throat and Lucy Gray sighed quietly. She was reclined with her head pillowed in his lap whilst he sat upright against a tree in the meadow. He was present with her, his body warm and real against hers, and yet he wasn’t here with her, not truly. Not when he was thinking so loudly, his consciousness so far afield wherever his thoughts had taken him.

The sudden absence of her tuneful humming caught his attention though, and Coriolanus dropped his piercing gaze to survey her with a raised brow, “Don’t stop. That was a nice one. Is it new?”

The worn gingham picnic blanket scratched at her elbows as she manoeuvred herself upright beside him. She scoffed and shot him a wry smile, “Why, I’m surprised you heard it at all, what with you being away with the fairies. But yes, it’s part of my newest composition.”

“Sorry, there’s a lot on my mind.” He turned to face her and she caught a glimmer of genuine contrition in his eyes.

A rather fat and stubborn gnat was flitting about his temple and Lucy Gray swatted at it to send it on its way. She took some time then to appreciate his face. He was handsome, had always been. His face was all pointy planes and harsh angles, but no longer sharp and drawn in the way it’d been back in the Capitol. Evidently the consistency of regular meals at the Peacekeepers’ base had filled his frame and face out to a more healthful appearance.

She smiled a small smile and ran a dainty finger down the side of his face before caressing his cheek with her knuckles, “It’s alright, I expect a Peacekeepers’ life is as gruelling mentally as it is physically. What’re you thinking ‘bout?”

Coriolanus leant into her touch, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply through his nose, “About the Mockingjays and how they’re an unnatural byproduct, unintended by nature, repeating songs of what they hear. About why people make stupid decisions that could implicate others who want nothing to do with their foolhardy plans.” He paused then, even though she sensed that he could’ve carried on, and his eyes fluttered open to disarm her once again, “But enough about all that. I want to think about you now.” He caught hold of her hand against his face and pulled it back gently so he could press several kisses to her knuckles and her wrist.

Lucy Gray couldn’t help the blushing smile that tugged at the corners of her lips at his actions. He could be sweet, her Coriolanus, and he’d always been gentle with her. But she knew deep down that he was at odds with this new life of his in District 12. Capitol-born and proud of his heritage, despite the hardship she knew he and his family had been plagued with growing up, he struggled with the modest existence of a Peacekeeper. She could see it in the brief flickers of disdain that sometimes made it past his carefully guarded expression; disdain for the mundane; disdain for the wild and unrestrained.

“You think too much.” She remarked nonchalantly, smoothing vibrant frills of her dress over her folded knees, “The present is a gift for us Covey. Enjoying life in the moment and appreciating the freedom to live as we please is wonderful. You should try it sometime, turning off all those thoughts in your head. Just be free.”

“But freedom comes at a price, doesn’t it? Without any routine, without organisation, it’s all unknown. Uncertain. Uncontrollable.”

Irritation rippled through her at his response. It always seemed to come down to this dichotomy between them, his need to be in control and her desire to be free. He didn’t understand, couldn’t understand the life she lived. She shrugged and narrowed her eyes at him with a pout, “You call it uncertainty. I say it’s spontaneity. There’s fun in being wild.”

“Wildness is dangerous.”

Immediately, her mood turned coquettish and she smirked at him, her dark eyes teasing, “Do you think I’m dangerous, Coriolanus Snow?”

His only response was a rough and deep chuckle that rumbled appealingly in his chest. His gaze clashed with her own dark chocolate orbs and she could see he was focused on her now, embers of something hot sparking alight in the depths of his blue eyes.

She repositioned herself so she was facing him better and cocked her head at him. She disliked his constant need to be in control, but she relished the challenge of unravelling him, even if just for a short while. Lucy Gray was no stranger to the drives of men and she knew exactly how to unpick her beautiful Capitol boy. She lived by her charms and spread kisses like honey to charm her audience. She’d done what she needed to in the past to keep the Covey alive.

Men were all the same. She knew how to drive him wild.

She saw him lick his lips and begin to lean towards her, and she knew what was coming. The kiss seared when their mouths met, the rose petal softness of his lips contrasting with the hot and blazing dominance of tongue. It was frightening how quickly he could render her breathless and stoke wicked desire throughout her body, but she reminded herself that she wanted to be in control today. She wanted him to relinquish his control and surrender to his surroundings and to her.

Long and strong arms wrapped about her frame as Coriolanus pulled her into his lap to straddle him. She decided she would allow him this initial bout of control. After all, she was rather enjoying the hard jut of his body’s visceral arousal between her thighs. She rolled her hips deliberately and her action earned her a ragged groan from him against the meld of their lips, his hands flying to clutch at her hips to press her harder against him.

He broke away to gasp into the crook of her neck, “I want you, Lucy Gray.”

“Shh, the Covey aren’t far.” She placated in a whisper, though she traced a daring lick against the shell of his ear nevertheless, making him shudder.

She knew her comment was an excuse. The Covey would give them their privacy, she knew that, but he wouldn’t have her today, no. She had other plans for him. She wanted to be the sole puppeteer today and he would be her marionette.

With a light push against his chest, she swung a thigh over him to unseat herself and she patted the blanket next to her, “Lie back.”

“Alright,” The look he gave her was curious and full of anticipation. He grasped the hem of his shirt and pulled the white cotton over his head, his dog tags clinking. He placed it on the grass beside him before lying back as he’d been told.

A sassy quip about having not given him permission to un-shirt himself was poised on the tip of Lucy Gray’s tongue, but she held it. She’d be a liar if she said she didn’t appreciate his bulkier physique now. The daily Peacekeeper drills along with consistent meals had laden his previously thin frame with a lean layer of defined muscle. He was quite the sight for sore eyes.

He reached for the linen ties of her dress where they closed the ruffles over her chest and he tugged one of them loose, wanting to see more of her. She swatted his hand away. No, she would be the one to decide if and when she wanted to afford him a view of her breasts. She chastised him with a reproving stare that was only half-hearted.

She bit her lip and smoothed a hand up his chest, applying a mild pressure to impose authority, “Behave. You might get what you want yet if you’re good.”

The grin Coriolanus graced her with was roguish, “Ok, we’ll play your little game.”

A pang of bother squeezed in her gut, but she ignored it. A little game. That’s all this was to him. He’d relinquish his control, allow what he perceived as a reversal in power, but only for a little while. Part of her pondered if he even saw her as his equal, as a free individual with her own thoughts and wishes, or if she was just a prize to be possessed, just the winning tribute to his triumphant mentor.

She struck up a hum of an old folk melody in her repertoire, from a song that spoke of new love in spring, of fresh flower fields that bloomed in springtime meadows. The tune was bright and flirty to begin with and it seemed appropriate for the occasion. She didn’t sing the words, opting instead to occupy her lips with kisses to the side of his face, his neck, his shoulder, and then his ribs and his navel. She delighted in the hushed whimpers that she elicited from him as she went about her charms, the fingers and palm of one of her hands caressing down his toned abdominals ever closer to where he was straining most for her touch.

An impatient grunt sounded from him and his hands moved to his belt. She smacked at his wrists again and he dropped them to his sides.

“Do you want me to beg?” Coriolanus’ voice was gravelly and thick with desire.

Lucy Gray toyed with the buckle of his belt at the waistband of his blue fatigue bottoms, “I don’t want you to beg darlin’. I just want you to enjoy the moment.”

“I’d enjoy it more if you actually touched me.” Came his tetchy response.

She giggled and hushed him with a languid kiss against his lips, “Shh, I don’t need a mentor here. You’re in my world now. My arena.”

She deftly undid his belt, pulling it free of the loops just enough to get to the button and zipper of his fatigues. The pop of the button came next, followed by the smooth slide of the zip. Her tantalising fingers slipped beneath the elastic of his white boxers and he gave a sharp hiss as the cool skin of her palm enveloped his hot erection. She gently pulled him free of his underwear, his hips raising slightly to help her pull his clothing down to his thighs.

It appeared Coriolanus had been holding his breath as his next exhale punched out of him in a throaty moan while she stroked him. Her name spilled breathily from him like an unbidden prayer, “Lucy Gray.”

She resumed her humming of the folk tune, the lyrics swirling absently in her head of hot summers and tender lovers. She relished in how his breaths were deepening, how his torso rose and fell with each one, and how the flat plane of his belly tensed and contracted to display the outline of his abdominals while he writhed under her ministrations. The long, blonde wisps of his eyelashes brushed the tops of his cheeks as his eyes fluttered, half-open and delirious in his pleasure.

Oh, how she thrilled at doing this to him, at having him like putty in her hands, even for this short time before he brought his guard up again. Mind you, the feel of him in her hand was anything but like putty. She grinned to herself, glancing down to where his length slipped hot and rigid in and out of her grasp. He was as imposing there as he was everywhere else. She supposed his height should’ve told her as much, that he’d be proportionate here too.

She felt the fingers of one of his hands snake around the wrist of her arm she was propping herself upright with. She turned her head to regard him again and found his eyes watching her intently, his lips parted and still moist with saliva from her earlier kiss. Deciding to excite him even further, she released his erection from her grasp to undo the ties of her dress. She briefly saw him about to verbally protest the loss of stimulation when he cottoned on to what she was about to do.

One at a time, Lucy Gray tugged free the linen strings at the front of her dress. The frilly neckline was fairly elastic, which allowed her to tug and stretch it down to rest below her bosom, framing her pert breasts. Coriolanus emitted a quiet whimper at the sight of her exposed to him and she almost laughed when she realised his hands had curled into tight fists at his sides. He was trying so hard to be good. He was singularly focused on her now.

She returned her attention to his cock, finding it even harder now that it’d already been. Squeezing and stroking at a consistent pace, she lapped up every single whine and groan that she proceeded to wring from him. A light sheen of perspiration was beading along his hairline and a flush was creeping its way down the fair skin of his neck and chest. She could feel he was close from the way his muscles contracted, the way his hips twitched, and his breaths hitched.

From their past encounters, he would’ve climaxed by now. A sliver of doubt began to creep within her about whether she was pleasuring him as well as she had before. She leant down over him a little more, allowing him to nose and kiss at her breasts. She whispered a husky question to him, “Does this feel good?”

His answer was tight with his pleasure, “Yeah.”

“Let go for me, Coriolanus.” She breathed throatily.

She resettled herself more upright again, continuing her stroking rhythm and making sure to run the pad of her index finger over the underside of the swollen head of him, where she knew he enjoyed it. He continued to watch her through his half-lidded gaze, and then Lucy Gray saw it.

A slight quirk of one corner of his lips and an almost imperceptible spark of impertinence in his eyes. He was challenging her, holding out on her intentionally!

Oh, she wasn’t having that. She was the self-declared head gamemaker in this arena and he would bend to her will when she wanted him to. She knew what card she would play. She’d have to stop humming her tune again, but no matter. She would listen to the music of him losing his control in wild abandon instead.

Bending forward to dip her head towards her working hand, she proceeded to enclose the head of his cock and as much of the rest of him as she could manage into the moist confines of her mouth. The effect was immediate when she gave a tight upward bob and suck over him. His thigh muscles flexed, driving his pelvis upward towards her, and the cry that escaped him was choked.

She smirked to herself. Coriolanus Snow loved control, but this was the one game they played where she would always be the victor.

A string of curses tumbled from his lips as his chest began to heave with rapid breaths, signalling his imminent orgasm. All it took was a handful more skilful bobs of Lucy Gray’s head when she heard him suck in a harsh breath. His entire body seized in the next moment before an almost injured-sounding groan ground out from him on his exhale as his orgasm consumed him. She thrilled at the whimpers he was trying and failing to stifle as the familiar tang and texture of his cum coated the back of her throat. She instinctively swallowed.

Drawing off him carefully, she tucked herself back into her dress and re-tied the linen strings at her front. She dabbed at her mouth with the back of one hand and stretched out alongside him, feeling very pleased with her efforts. She listened to the sound of his body attempting to regulate itself again afterward, his breaths slowing one by one.

His head lolled to face hers and Lucy Gray was fleetingly struck by the piercing sky-blue clarity in his eyes, free and unburdened by storms. He craned his neck towards her to leave a lingering kiss on her lips, “You will be my undoing, Lucy Gray.”

Lucy Gray smiled at him, tucking herself against the bare skin of his side, her cheek flush against his shoulder. She knew his hunger for control would return; she knew he would be hungry between her thighs too when he returned the favour later. She resolved to simply enjoy the serenity of the present, where it was just her and him at peace. She recommenced her humming of the last part of the old folk tune. The melody wilted to a more sombre note in the last two verses.

The lyrics continued their swirl about her mind, telling of waning love and the falling leaves of orange autumn; of fragile hearts made brittle with the eventual return of winter’s chill; of barren ground, lifeless and loveless, smothered under a blanket of heavy white snow.

***~~~***

Author's note: Thanks for reading this piece & I hope you enjoyed it. I don't know why, but the more I think about Lucy Gray & Coryo's relationship, the more I'm convinced that Lucy Gray isn't as innocent as we think, or as the film makes her out to be. My impression is that she can be wily and that she's clever, cunning too. Her own survival was as important to her as self-preservation was to Snow. I don't doubt that they both loved each other somewhat, but who knows, maybe she played him too in some ways?

Leave me a comment if this work touched you in any way or if you have any other thoughts to share. I love hearing from readers and I'm happy to field any questions too. Comments are the lifeblood of all fanfiction authors and you truly don't know how much it makes our day when you leave us a line. 💜Reblogs & likes are always much appreciated too!

[whoahoney]

Jake anon back with another thought 🫡

I feel like he cums a lot, and he seems like the type to fuck it back into you with his fingers if any of it drips out 😫

OMFG I AGREEEEEE I almost mentioned it in the last Jake Thots post but I felt it needed it’s own post to itself

So here’s this nasty filth, ya sluts 🫠❤️‍🔥

Minors DNI

(Tumblr won’t let me tag my stuff as mature?? So heed this warning before I fucking eat you)

Warnings: smut!! AFAB!reader, dom/sub dynamics, fingering, p in v, praise, cum play?, pet names, unprotected sex/cream pie, multiple orgasms and slight overstim,

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Jake had some sort of… fascination.

Or was it a fixation?

Whatever it was, Jake really liked the way his cum looked when it dripped out of your pussy.

During sex, he’d watch your hips—if not your bouncing tits or blissed out eyes—no matter what position you were in. He watched himself piston in and out of you, the way your body would jolt upward with each of his thrusts, fucking you further into your bed.

He’d reach the deepest spot inside of you, finding that special place that made your walls clamp down around him, drawing out groans of pleasure from deep within his throat, “Oh, honey, fuck me…” he’d lament into your sweet neck, leaving a steaming kiss on his wake as he continues his thrusts.

You lay on your back and look up at him, at his majesty. His hair hung in front of his face, damp with the perspiration that clung to his whole body and yours. He only wore his necklace, the coin pendant brushed your nose every once in a while but you didn’t care, it was the farthest thing from your mind as his movements became more desperate.

“Tell me you want it,” he practically ordered as he straightened, wrapping his hands around your thighs and readjusting his grip on you before giving an experimental thrust that sent you mewling.

A smug smile crossed his face before his teeth sank into his bottom lip at the sight of you so desperate beneath him. “You want my cum? Spilled all inside you?” He asked, giving another roll of his hips. You nod vehemently, forgetting your words again before Jake chuckles, “Be a good girl and tell me.” He said slowly, his voice a hungry rasp for the sound of yours.

“—Yes!” You we’re quick to answer, “I want it, I want it inside, plea-please, Jake.” You whisper pathetically.

He leans down to brush his nose against yours before kissing your lips chastely—a reward. “Thank you, baby.” He whispers saccharinely before giving you a bolder kiss, practically a kitten lick.

You open your mouth for him and feel his hands grip your head, holding you still as his hips ground against yours, “Oh, fuck!” You cry out.

“Yes!” He mumbles against your lips and his languid thrusts intensify, the roll of his hips rhythmic and pulsing. “I wanna hear it,” he mumbled between kisses, “I wanna hear everything, baby.” He panted as he devoured you.

“Shit, oh, god—I’m gonna cum!” Jake realized and pushed your legs back towards you, his hips slapping against yours with the angle change that had you almost crying in euphoria.

Your hands grasp your breasts, massaging them as he fucks into you and watches your reaction— mouth open, eyes watering and lined with lust just for him.

“Pump me full, I wanna feel you dr—“ you sigh in release as your orgasm crashes upon you, just as you feel the pulsing of his cock inside.

“—Oh fuck, baby, keep, oh, shit!”

“—wanna feel you drip outta me, Jake.” You manage breathlessly as your high fades away and he rides his out with fervor, watching as your pussy weeps with your own release around his swollen member.

Jake slows to a stop as he pants and his chest heaves with breath. He glanced up to your eyes for the first time in a minute, your hand coming up to his hair to bury your nails in it and scratch against his scalp. He smiles softly, his brown eyes catching tones of amber in the fading light of the day.

He carefully withdraws from you, the loss making your hips twitch slightly as he keeps his hands on your thighs, holding you open. “What are you—“ your question is silenced when a string of white release oozes from your slit, Jake’s eyes shining in wonder and his mouth etched in a lustful smirk as he traces your labia impatiently.

You sit up and more drools out of you, giving him the perfect opportunity to use his fingers to wipe it up and plunge it back inside of you.

You gasp and fall into the pillow again with a sharp arch to your back as he uses his thumb to play with your swollen clit, “You were so good for me, baby.” He purred, using his other hand your draw adoring circles into the skin of your thigh.

You whimpered at the overstimulation, but it soon melted into that addictive fire that sizzled beneath your skin and deep in your core. The feeling that cried for more, more, more of him.

He watched his fingers come out of your entrance covered in his own release in excess. He could only smile at himself, looking at his masterpiece—Your ruined pussy, your ruined makeup, and your never ending beauty— just as he pushed them back inside and you came for him, again.

[fruitybashir]

hey hello 👋🏻 i'm sorry im very shy but i'm a huge fan of the holidate and dopamin (closer) was so fantastic and super hot and i was blushing the entire way through, i've reread it maybe five times by now, i'm sorry if that's weird 🫣

if you don't mind me asking, i'm curious about something? in the holidate and in dopamin, there's obvious hints at some of their kinks or preferences in bed (hair pulling, praise....) and i'm just wondering......can you say more about what kinks they're both into? what you envisioned for them? is there more we don't know about yet? i'm a bit embarassed to ask but i'm so curious

either way, i'm a big fan and i can't wait to see what you post next and have a nice day/night bye bye 💌💕

omg hiiiii <3333 dont be embarassed omg i loveeee when people tell me they reread my stuff, thats how i know it actually was good!!! 🫶🏻💖💖💖

and sure i can talk about it! its nothing super exciting tbh but i do have a certain set of kinks/preferences/likes whatever you wanna call it for each of them, im gonna put it under the cut as per usual in case it gets long.

edit yeah this is getting super long. sorry. dont ask me to yap, i will not stop.

starting with kris:

the very obvious: hair pulling. i think that was made pretty clear lmao. in a non-sexual context he looooves having his hair played with, someone just running their fingers through his hair, lightly scratching at the scalp, playing with a strand or two, anything at all gives him very pleasant tingles and practically makes him putty in your hands. find that spot behind his ear like bojan did and his brain shuts off, you have now successfully tamed your kris, congrats.

in a sexual context that translates to him loving having his hair pulled, its a combination of him liking having his hair played with + liking a certain level of pain. and the combo of that really gets him off. obviously.

pain for kris is like. hes into some level of pain, like the hair pulling and he also likes biting sometimes. in dopamin thats bojan biting his butt, but i imagine sometimes when bojan takes his time exploring kris' body, he takes a bite here or there, kris' neck, the sides of his stomach, the inside of his thighs .. stuff like that and kris is also really into it then.

hes not into any bigger levels of pain other than that like he wouldnt like stuff like spanking etc although thats a combination of not liking that type of pain and not liking being in a submissive position

next point: he doesnt like being submissive. its both just a preference thing plus not liking loss of control. he loves being the one to order the other part around and be the one to kiiind of have the upper hand. im saying that a bit vaguely bc he also isnt really a dom, he wouldnt like a very strong dominant role, he just likes calling the shots and being in control of the situation. idk how to put it. ill come back to this later

hes freshly discovering that hes into feminization, as you can probably tell from that last upload lmao, and he likes it both in a non-sexual and in a sexual context. he likes feminine words of affection, being called pretty, likes thinking about how in certain perspectives and moments people might mistake him for a girl, and he could have shopped online for lingerie thats specifically made for men, and buy panties that actually had some space in the front, but he deliberately chose not to do that, he wanted it to be girls underwear. that was important.

holidate kris is definitely not fully cis, but also not really trans either i think, idk what to call it but yeah. he might be a little trans, hes having some thoughts and feelings and maybe ill let him explore that properly one day but basically he doesnt really know what to make of it yet or how to categorise it, but he knows he likes himself exactly the way he is and doesnt want to change anything. he also likes getting called girl-ish things and thinking about how people might mistake him for a girl sometimes. idk

other preferences uhhh he really likes sucking dick lmao, like he genuinely enjoys going down on bojan and it gets him all worked up as well. he just figured out he loves getting eaten out. he doesnt like bottoming and he also doesnt like getting fingered all that much. and the thing with that is that he likes having things in his ass, but he doesnt like the uhhh motion of it? having a dick in his ass is fine, having that dick thrust into him is a big no no. the lucky thing with bojan is that he has really short fingers so when hes fingering kris, hes focussing on kris's prostate and doesnt move around all that much so that is still something kris enjoys. on occasion. he also generally doesnt like coming more than once, bc he tends to be very sensitive after his first orgasm and the second one is often very overhelming and too much

moving on to bojan:

also fairly obvious: likes being manhandled, likes being told what to do, big on getting praised. he also loves servicing and making kris feel good, it genuinely gets him off when he can just worship kris a little.

bojan loves both receiving and giving oral but he really loves bottoming and coming on kris' fingers. he loves getting a little overstimulated like getting teased for a long time before getting any proper attention so by the time kris finally goes down on him or fucks him, bojan is already shaking with it and desperate. or in the way like in dopamin, literally not being able to fully calm down in between orgasms and still being super sensitive from the first one.

i think the praise thing is pretty self explanatory, he really loves getting praised for doing a good job when he follows kris' instructions, loves being called a good boy, loves when kris keeps telling him how good hes being in general, its a major thing for him

he loves getting fucked classic missionary or riding kris, they tried doggy once but he didnt like not being able to see kris and touch him. he loves watching kris' face when he comes and also before that, he just loves fucking face to face.

also he would love for kris to make real on his promise of fucking his tits, neither of them knows how that would work but bojan is heavily into the idea of it

as for both of them:

ive said it in dms earlier but basically like. theyre both still kind of vanilla with their kinks? like there is a dom/sub dynamic there but its a very mild one kinda.

like how in dopamin kris tells bojan hes gonna make him come on his fingers and then give him no break after, but later he still does give him a break and checks with bojan if hes still okay with it, if its too much etc. or how he keeps telling bojan to use his words, but always forgives him when bojan cant use his words or is too embarrassed to say what kris wants him to say. like theres never any real consequences.

and thats the thing with them: they are so in tune with each other and have a level of trust for each other that they never had with previous partners. bojan likes being bossed around but he wouldnt like if anyone was actually mean to him, hes not into humiliation or being actually punished for something.

kris knows when he says it that its all empty threats and he would never give bojan any real consequences, and bojan knows this as well, but he would also never intentionally misbehave bc he likes following commands.

they work so well together like that bc theyre both fully aware of what they and the other wants out of it, they know the others wishes and boundaries and limits etc, like there is just a level of trust and understanding between them like no other.

also theyre super in love. did i mention that. does that come across. thats not a kink thing but theyre just super mega in love and thats so important to me.

uhhhh i think thats basically all there is to them kink wise ✌🏼 sorry this got so long, oopsie

[tadpolesonalgae]

Top!Feyre x F!reader - Have a Seat[*]

A/N: I blame the raspberry ripple entirely for this

Warnings: mommy!Feyre, face-sitting, kind of coercion, power imbalance, rim job (a bit), face riding, kind of becoming a sex slave?? But willingly??

She led you by the hand to her bedroom, shutting the door hurriedly behind her.

You looked at her curiously as she stood blocking the exit, her hands clasped in front of her as she attempted to look calm and collected. She moved forward slowly, so as not to frighten you. That in itself was worrying, so you took a small step back, glancing throughout the room.

“Don’t worry,” she soothed, moving her hands in a calming gesture as she glided smoothly across the room to place her hands on your shoulders which stiffened further beneath her touch. She was your High Lady, she shouldn’t be touching you so casually. A flush crested your cheeks at the care and concern in her eye. The flush deepened as her scent wrapped around you, the heavy arousal. You flinched, stumbling backwards as your legs hit the bed, sending you cascading down right where she wanted you.

“It’s okay! It’s okay, don’t worry honey, I’m here,” she murmured as she moved forward to cup your face, tears of confusion welling at the corners of your eyes. “Wh-…huh?” You mumbled, curiosity peaking through the haze of loss. “I just need you to be good for me, can you do that for me, pretty?” She spoke softly as her eyes roamed over your mouth, feeling the weight as they passed over you.

You swallowed lightly, before nodding hesitantly. “Yeah? You want to be a good girl?” She murmured, a soft smile lifting her lips as well as relief. Your brow furrowed but you nodded again. “I want you to lie down for me, on the bed. Can you do that?” She encouraged. You bit your lip lightly, before shifting on the bed, moving to crawl upwards but she stopped you. “I want your head at this end, darling,” the term of endearment slipped out so suddenly she hadn’t even realised what she’d done. Not that you noticed. You complied easily. She was your High Lady after all.

You lay down, looking up at her curiously as she moved round to your side. You wondered at her scent, what it could mean. You couldn’t think clearly as her fingers lifted the edges of her soft cotton top, slowly removing it from her upper half until she was bare. A deep flush heated your cheeks as you looked away. You shouldn’t be seeing your High Lady like this. “I want you to look at me, little bird,” she ordered, softly.

Hesitantly, you turned to look at her as she slipped off her pants, leaving her only in the thin fabric clinging to the sweep of her hips. The flush deepened as heat dampened between your thighs.

She crawled onto the bed, stopping to peer down at you. “Are you all right, pretty thing?” She murmured softly, dipping down to your neck. You shivered as you felt her breath fan across the skin. You barely managed a nod of your head before she was lightly sucking at the skin, kissing it into dark purples. Her nostrils flared as she scented your own arousal now flowing and mixing with her own.

Feyre bit her lip as she moved away from you, in favour of crawling further up your body, shifting until her thighs were either side of your head. A single thought had the slip of fabric vanishing from her wet heat. “I want you…I need you to be a good girl for me,” she murmured, fingers lacing in your hair as you kept your eyes on hers, too overwhelmed to look at what she was baring to you, “I need to borrow that mouth of yours, will you lend it to me, pretty girl? Let mommy use that mouth of yours to clean herself?” Her words send a hot throb of heat sparking between your thighs as you clenched them together.

“Yes,” you mumbled, quietly, your eyes shifting to some point behind her. Her lips pursed into a thin line, “look at me,” she orders, nails scraping lightly at your scalp, “I want to feel your eyes on my pussy,” she moaned softly. Embarrassment heating your body, you moved your eyes to look between her parted thighs.

She laughed softly, “good, little girl,” she hummed as her thighs widened suddenly, bringing her pussy down to settle on your mouth, her clit perching on your nose. She smiled slightly, “you look so pretty under my wet pussy, she’s giving you a kiss,” you felt it as both her holes clenched, imitating a kiss.

She moaned louder as she swayed her hips, her slick quickly coating your face as she wound over you, her clit on your bottom lip until her ass was brought to the arch of your nose, then back and forth, back and forth. One of her hands lifted to palm her breast, moaning slightly louder but keeping quiet.

Abruptly she stopped, lifting from your face, but not before pressing down firmly once, giving you a kiss. She shifted, moving until she was stood directly above you.

“Mommy’s sore, and needs a place to sit, if only there were a seat for me to rest somewhere,” she murmured, a soft, teasing smile on her face as she turned round, bending over as she spread herself for you. Wide enough for you to see how her slick was dripping from her pussy, coating her thighs. You bit your lip at the sight. “Can mommy have a seat on your face? Be a good girl for me?” She moaned, finger oscillating over her clit slowly as she watched you from between her legs.

“I need you to clean me up, darling. You’ve made me such a mess, now take responsibility.” She tutted softly. “Open up for me, I want to ride your tongue.” Your mouth opened as she grinned slightly, arousal heavy in the air. “Good girl. Mommy’s good girl,” she moaned as she sat on your face, her ass on your mouth with her heat on your nose.

“Lick.” She ordered. “I want you to lick me clean.” You moved your tongue as instructed, swiping over her rear entrance as her fingers played with her clit above you. “Can you taste me?” She moaned above you.

You weren’t sure what to do. A little overwhelmed at having her seated atop your mouth, ordering you to do things you hadn’t even dreamt of. Yet she was there, above you, settling on using you for her pleasure. She’d decided you were worthy of lapping between her legs.

Hesitantly, you raised your hands, gingerly settling them over her hips. Your fingertips brushed over the sweep of bone; when she didn’t pull away or recoil from your touch, you applied more force, pushing up into her as your arms pulled down. She was sweeping in on your senses in the most delightful manner. If she was an ocean you would gladly loose yourself in her.

“Fuck,” she gasped, when your tongue eagerly lapped over her, swirling and flicking as she wound her hips over you. Her fingers rubbed and rolled over her clit, palming her breasts as her head tipped back, revelling in the feeling.

She’d been after you for months, and finally she’d caught you. She should have taken advantage of her powerful position earlier. Only now did she feel as though she had a proper throne to sit on. “Keep doing that,” she panted, “just a little more — yes!” The moans tumbled from her lips, riding your tongue as the hand that had been between her legs laced through your hair.

“So good, aren’t you?” Her thumb rubbed in soft, comforting circles, cooing as your arms tightened around her waist. “Mother above,” she gasped, feeling the warmth building in the pit of her belly, her nipples peaking as awareness lit her body, firing along her nerves. Everything became hypersensitive. “You should have told me you were good at eating cunt,” she moaned, rolling her hips desperately. “Could have been indulging myself in your mouth months ago.”

You released a pleased moan onto her, tongue circling her tight ring of muscle before flicking up to her glossy entrance. “Oh, fuck!” The curse slipped from her mouth as your tongue pushed inside, fucking her delightfully. Her hand fisted in your hair, softness leaving, “I just want to come on your mouth day after day. So good,” she panted, “such a sweet girl with such a dirty mouth.”

She was getting close to that point, you could tell. Her praise settled deep in your belly, heating you as you worked on her harder, desperate not to disappoint. “Would you like that?” She moaned through the pleasure. “I could leash you to my bed,” she panted, “keep you all secret and tucked away. Mine.” Her nails scraped over your skin, silently commanding you to give more. “That something you’d want, too?”

You moaned into her pussy, whining needfully as slick dripped from your thighs. “You could eat me out every morning,” she fantasised, breathless as she ground against your mouth, “every night, before we go to bed.” Her hips undulated, fucking herself on your tongue, about to hit her peak. “Then I can come on your mouth again, and again, and again.”

The pads of your fingers bit into her, adding the pain that was essential to her pleasure. “Tell me you want that as much as I do,” she released in a high-pitched moan, “tell me you’d enjoy that as much I would.”

Her release hit her hard, her mouth dropped open as her eyes shut, grinding her pussy over you as your tongue slowed to soothing laps. “So good,” she whimpered, repeating it beneath her breath, her thighs trembling as they gave out. You squeaked as her weight pushed you into the mattress, her cunt smothering you. Delicious.

She knew you couldn’t breathe beneath her. Arousal flared in the pit of her stomach, her heat tightening as she looked down to see you trapped beneath her but not even wriggling for escape. Already so well acclimatised to being her little sex toy. For whenever she wanted.

Feyre knew she shouldn’t have done that, guilt sweeping through her chest. She’d knowingly taken advantage of her position and used it to bend you to her will. It was wrong. She bit her lip, too nervous to lift her hips to see how you would react. Maybe she could keep you there, make you suffocate beneath her. The thought sent a painful sting through her chest. She needed you so badly.

Beneath her, she felt your mouth moving, causing her to twitch at the sensitivity. You’d need air soon. Very soon. But instead of clawing for breath, your fingers rubbed in smooth circles, like she had done to you. A soft, surprised moan left her mouth as you pressed a kiss to her entrance, wriggling gently so you could see each other. Her eyes latched onto yours as you pressed a second kiss to her, followed by a questioning lap.

Both of you were nervous.

It had to be done and sorted eventually.

Feyre lifted from your mouth, shifting down your body to your side. Your tongue darted out to lick her flavour from your lips, most of your face gleaming with her arousal, making heat spark in the pit of her belly. “I…want to,” you murmured nervously, pushing up from the bed to tuck your legs beneath you.

Her brows dipped in confusion. You swallowed, crawling forward until you were kneeling in front of her. Her eyes widened marginally as you lifted her slender hand to your throat, “I’d like that.”

At your confirmation, both arousal and adoration thrummed through her, hauling your mouth her hers, pulling you over her on the bed as her mouth devoured your own. You moaned, enjoying the attention she gave you. Even more so when her thigh pressed between your legs, grinding against you.

“Good,” she panted when she broke the kiss, “you’re mine now, okay? Not anyone else’s. Never. Not even your own.” Her words were harsh, strict. But she was desperate. She didn’t know what she would do if you weren’t entirely in her possession. “You’re mine to use. Whenever I want. For however long. For whatever purposes.”

You whined, nodding your head as pleasure built in your lower belly. You were already sopping wet from having her seated on your face, having her come on your tongue, from your tongue. You nodded your head, “yes, mommy.”

Feyre bit her lip at the title.

You were going to be the death of her. But the most mouth-watering one anyone would ever receive.

Taglist: @myheartfollower

[mekachu04]

7. Hair

Kidd - 16 | Killer - 20

Tags specifically for this chapter:

Friends to Enemies

that weird little period where they were rival gang bosses

the girls boys are fighting

Kidd is an unreliable narrator but it's not his fault

Read at A03 linked above or here below cut

Drabbles from Pocket Jack's KiKi-tober Prompt list

"You got taller."

"You grew your hair out." Its hard to tell for sure what Killer really thinks about things these days; a lifetime living in each other's pockets can't be erased in just two years, but besides just hiding his expression behind ragged bangs, Killer's added a cloth tied around his lower face. But he tilts his head the same way, right ear up, left shoulder - his weaker shoulder - hunching up and in and Kidd can feel him judging him through his lashes. Can picture it so clearly in him mind, and he smirks. "It looks good."

And he means that; Growing up they way they did often mean cutting mattes out of Killer's hair, never getting a chance to grow too long no matter what they tried. Hell, Kidd had cried that last time he'd had to take a knife to Killer's hair. A fight with other Heaps' folk had Killer landing in a tar spill and even though they'd walked away the victor, Killer's hair was a complete loss. They'd gotten in a brawl with Victoria only a few days before that, and then Kidd had to cut Killer's hair to the scalp in a few places, and it was too much at once for his 13 year old self.

Killer had the world's worst haircut but Kidd was the one who had to be coddled.

Well, Joke was on them both because Killer would abandon him too the next year anyway.

"I guess ditching me for running water worked out well for you."

"And I'm leaving" Killer growled, and Kidd wanted to let him leave. Wanted Killer to be the one who walked away from the meeting, to reject him again. He was still angry and he -flung- a handful of bolts at the back of Killer's head. Unfortunately for him, Killer ducked in time, grabbed a brick from off the ground, and hurtled it back at him.

Kidd did manage to avoid getting hit but it was nothing as graceful as Killer's maneuver.

"The hell are you thinking!? What if someone saw you!" Killer hissed, marching back, head swiveling nervously like he was looking around to make sure none of his little gaggle of groupies had seen anything.

It was infuriating, and Kidd felt his temper getting the better of him, "What if someone... are you serious! Are you trying to mom me NOW?"

Killer stopped up short like Kidd had smacked him. Good.

"Nono. No. Do you hear yourself? You fucking left me," Kidd -flung- another handful of scraps and trash at Killer who avoided it as easily as the first round, "You left and fucking now you're trying to come in and order me around like you have any say in my life anymore!"

He -threw- another round, this time it felt like it was mostly screws, at Killer. The man's fists were clenched, but instead of letting Kidd goad him into a real fight, he shoved them in the pockets of the almost-not-holey jeans he was wearing as he smoothly twisted out of the way.

"So you can fuck off and I will use my fucking devil fruit however the fuck I want, when ever the fuck I feel like!" He -threw- another handful of screws and scrap. This time Killer didn't dodge it, and Kidd winced when the scattershot slammed into his former friend's side. Kidd dropped his hand down, metal falling quiet around them. "Kil...Killer, I didn't..."

"You're right. You can do whatever you want now. Big bad Boss of your own."

It was Kidd's turn to stick his hands in his pockets.

"Keep the Heaps. It's yours. My people'll clear out by tonight." Kidd had nearly forgotten the whole reason they'd met up - supposedly to hash out turf lines. Killer'd only just been named Boss after all, and had to prove he was up to the task. Instead Killer just ceded the whole dispute to him.

"Just like that? And if they don't?"

"If they got a problem with it, I'm sure they come running to join you."

"Unless they stab you in the back over it first." - Do you have someone now.. watching your back?

Killer just shrugs, turning away.

Kidd will go back to his crew, Killer'll go back to his own new shiny family, and they'd glare at each other over turf lines when they bothered to pretend the other existed at all, and go back to hating each other again.

Killer really did look nice with his hair grown out like that. It was as pretty as Kidd could have ever imagined, and he bet it was a soft as it looked.

...

Ceithir Gormaichean, Kidd still missed the prick.

[princess-of-thebes-1995]

This is after your attempt of suicide...

You slowly opened your beautiful colored eyes by blinking a couple of times before fully opening them wide. The lights were too hard and bright.

Then you remembered slowly. You cut your wrists and fainted from blood loss.

Is this heaven? You believed to be a good person. You felt happy. A place of bliss. Sadly, you saw the Colonel sitting on a chair. His chest was heaving hard and his teeth looked clenched together.

Uh. Oh. He looked feral. Like a primal Navi. A true beast.

You began to shake. Who will protect you now? Your father was dead since you were a child. He was an Alpha man. He protected your mom, yourself and others. A true gentleman. And Grace, she would defend and your other science friends. Now, you were alone.

"Hello, Princess." He drawled. He slowly stood up to his height and began to walk to your hospital bed. "Did you dream of me? You were out cold for a long time."

You gulped. "I don't remember anything when I slept."

The Colonel was right besides you. He nodded. "You almost took your own life Infront of my twins. You left them vulnerable and they started to cry. If staff didn't heard them. You would have been dead by now." He hissed l.

He grabbed your neck and tilted your face up. "you are so rebellious. Always surprising me. Behind my back, you are always up to some stupid shit."

You grabbed his hand to lessen his hold.

"I thought you changed. You broke my heart many times. You made me into a fuckin' pussy. You disgraced me. Besides the women in my family, women are evil bitches."

You coughed and tears leaked out. Will you die?

The Colonel let go of you. He then slung you over his shoulder with ease and walked. He told almost all soldiers to report to the gym. He used his ear piece.

Lyle was the only survivor of the Recom squad after the final battle. Others died. Good

New soldiers as Navis were now with Quaritch. Human soldiers and recoms gathered in the gym looking confused.

The Colonel got a huge chair and placed it in the middle of the gym. He sat down then dropped you to the floor. You landed on your ass.

You were on your knees as you looked up at the Colonel.

He then pulled his Marine pants and boxers down. He was showing his penis. Erected and ready to explode.

Some soldiers cringed in disgust and looked away. Lyle blinked. The fuck will happen? Lyle's eyes widened in fear. The Colonel will not...

The Colonel clutched the back of your head and made your face close to his dick. It was oozing cum.

"since ass whippings and freedom loss won't tame that bitchy attitude, degradation will."

You began to shake your head. "Please no." You whispered.

"I won't make a woman make a fool out of me again. I am done being nice. Fuck this diplomacy shit. You will obey all my orders from now on. Your opinion will not be heard again. You brought this shit on yourself. Blame yourself and not me. I spoiled you."

His dick looked like a volcano with lava.

The Colonel smirked. "Impressive huh?" He bucked his hips up. "I purposely stopped masturbating to store all my seed so you can swallow."

You tried to get up to leave but the Colonel's clasp in your scalp tightened.

"Hurry. Give the others a show. Some don't have girlfriends."

You stopped sobbing and began to hiccup and cough. Slowly you grabbed his penis causing his breath to hitch. You slowly covered your whole mouth. But not his whole dick

The Colonel sighed in disappointment and shook his head. "come in, slut. I know you can do better than that."

So, you did it. You magically covered his whole dick in your mouth... and throat. You almost clocked. Your tears continued oozing out of your eyes like his semen kept oozing from his dick. You felt so humiliated. You could look to the side or anywhere out of shame.

Meanwhile, there was mix reaction to the soldiers. Some Navis who found you hot enjoyed and was turned on. The thought of a man being a man.

Others were disgusted. Not because they respected women. They were misogynist too. But they didn't want to see another guy's dick. But Lyle was different.

Lyle raped women as a human before. He looked down and shook his head. He raided cities and other places on earth. He did the same shit. Now, he hated himself.

He now regretted being evil by raping. He didn't regret killing Navis but after seeing your pain. He wished he never raped s woman.

He was jealous of his boss for having you. He wished he was like the Colonel. Now, Lyle somewhat hates him. He loved the Colonel as a friend in other areas. Not in this subject of women objectification.

....

The Colonel on the other hand felt so alive. He was mad he lost against Sully. Again. He also lost his first son Miles. Miles ran away from him to Sully.. Some squad friends. Only Lyle and his Ikran survived.

He was humiliated and stressed. You made it worse by trying to leave him. Again.

He finally cummed in your mouth. You then sat down on the floor with overflowing mouth of cum. Gasping for breath.

The Colonel smirked in satisfaction. He stood up and zipped up his pants. "Good girl." He picked you bridal style from the floor and left the gym without looking at anyone.

"dismissed."

[lacheri]

me, starry-eyed and sniffling after reading ur ask u sent me, humbly requesting 56 for your prompt event ;; <3 ORRRRR 144 take your pick hehe

me, fawning over ur every word and staring at u with absolute adoration in my eyes, earnestly telling u ily and i would crawl on the floor and bark if u asked me to

cw: no warnings. this is pure tooth rotting fluff. it'll give u a stomach ache guaranteed. an extreme use of the word "ever". minors/ageless blogs dni!

wc: 1k

prompt event: taking prompts until midnight est! <3

56. "Just marry me already."

Garlic — you can smell the aroma before you even step foot into your house, nearly breaking down into hysterical tears on the front porch. Without any context, you look ridiculous. You know this, which is what keeps those sobs at bay, but with context, well — just about anyone would lose their composure on the spot.

You’ve just arrived home after an incredibly hellish day of work, so busy you had to forgo a lunch break in order to complete your tasks. (They’re still incomplete, but that’s going to have to be a problem for Monday. You hit your mental limit an hour into your shift.) Your back is aching, daring to snap in half without any warning. You’re miserable, starving, and you’re in desperate need of comfort.

And comfort currently smells like garlic and looks like your beautiful, thoughtful boyfriend, Levi.

Your fingers wrap around the door handle, shoes crossing the entryway, and you can hardly contain yourself. Your eyes well up, the subtle hint of seasonings morphing into an overwhelming aura, and you can hardly see Levi move around your home to set up the dinner table.

He has always been incredibly great at bringing you peace, but this is next level. One text is all you sent today, a short message about how shitty your day was going. Nothing of extraordinary detail, just that you hated your job and missed him. That was it. 

Levi decided to cook for you in response? To ease your stress, to make your day just slightly better? He even dressed nice, adorning a thick navy colored sweater you’d bought him just a month ago, tucked in at the belt, disappearing into the black of his tailored trousers.

The jingle of keys and the creak of the front door brings his focus to you, your lips in a pronounced pout, unable to move. 

“That bad huh?” Levi frowns, already making the strides to greet you where you stand.

You nod, afraid that if you speak, you really will cry. He releases a quiet chuckle, embracing you tightly, his palm cradling the back of your head. His fingers press into your scalp, massaging patterns and kissing at your forehead. 

Eventually the emotion rolls off your body thanks to the soothings of Levi, and you’re able to take a deep breath, “Yeah. It was bad.”

“You’re home now,” he hums, pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes. “Why don’t you get changed and we can eat?”

“What, into something fancy?” You half smile, bringing your attention to his outfit. “You look like you’re about to take me on a date to a fancy restaurant or something.”

“A date to our kitchen table, yes,” Levi teases, his lashes fluttering as he follows your gaze. “Put on whatever you want. I just wanted to dress up for you, to make you feel special or whatever.”

You can’t help yourself from stealing a kiss after he says something like that. He’s so cute it breaks your heart. 

“Just marry me already,” you mumble against his lips, so velveteen and warm.

Levi freezes entirely, body going rigid under your attention. The loss of air against your mouth signals to you that he has stopped breathing. You pull away, panic coursing through your veins.

You’ve never really discussed marriage with Levi, hardly ever even have joked about it. Yeah, you’ve been dating for what seems like an eternity, but you never felt the need to test Levi’s loyalty in the form of a diamond ring and an exchanging of vows. For all intensive purposes, you act like you’re married already. You live together, eat meals together, spend every waking moment beside one another — you don’t really need a piece of documentation to declare your love, so neither of you have ever brought it up.

Levi doesn’t have commitment issues, it’s just that he’s a creature of habit. Your relationship is a habit he’s accustomed to, and perhaps you’ve just ruined a nice moment with a thoughtless joke.

Maybe Levi hates the idea of getting married. With the way he just reacted, you assume you’re probably correct.

“It was a joke! Not that I mean I don’t want to marry you! We’ve never talked about it, I wasn’t even thinking I’m so sorry! It’s just, Levi this was so nice of you, and I’ve had the worst day of my life and you’re so thoughtful and sweet and cute and—“

A deep, aggravated sigh cuts you off. His eyes roll in his skull before landing directly on yours, a humored smirk on his lips.

“I guess I have to do this now then.”

“Do what?” you ask hesitantly. 

“Ask you to marry me, stupid.”

You’re the one unable to breathe now, jaw dropping and brain malfunctioning. 

He laughs, running a hand over his face, “You really had to say that and steal my thunder? I had a plan. It was going so well too.”

“You’re serious?” you wheeze.

“Of course I’m serious. There’s a ring shoved in a breadstick on the counter. Took me forever to get it in there too. Apparently butter melts on hot things, so I had to wash the ring so it wouldn’t be disgusting when you put it on—“

“Yes!” you scream, jumping up and down and throwing your arms around his shoulders. “Yes I’ll marry you!”

“I didn’t properly ask you yet!” Levi responds, but the sound is muffled in your shoulder. 

“I don’t care, yes,” you sniffle, peppering teary kisses onto his neck. “A hundred times, yes. You didn’t have to ask me, it’s yes.”

He softens, holding you tighter to his frame. “I just wanted to make you feel better. Didn’t need to make this a big deal.”

“Shut up,” you chuckle. “It’s a big deal.”

“Here’s the new plan, technically the same plan but,” Levi maneuvers his hands to rest on your cheeks, thumbing away your straying tears. “You’re going to go into the bedroom, you’re going to get changed, and we’re going to sit down to eat. You’re going to carefully open the bread I hand you, and you’re going to act surprised when I get down on my knee and ask you to be my wife. Okay?”

“I love you,” your bottom lip wobbles. “I love you so much.”

“Okay?” He presses, his mouth blossoming into a grin. 

You nod enthusiastically, on the verge of hyperventilating, “Okay.”

“Now,” Levi kisses the tip of your nose. “Hurry up so I can propose to you, idiot.”

LACHERI © 2022: all writing content belongs to LACHERI. I do not allow reposts or translations

[nowoyas]

Koi no Yokan 12: SCAT2 (nishinoya yuu/reader)

First - Prev - Next - M.list - Ao3

Summary: You have a headache.

Tags and warnings: very light emetophobia (mentions of nausea, one threat of vomiting, no graphic descriptions), blanket series warnings, themes of child neglect, loss of a parent, suggestions of child abuse

Words: ~4400

Q1. Can you tell me what happened?

Takeda is here, in front of you. It takes you too long to process him, too long to process Noya beside you, a hand on your shoulder. Longer to come up with an answer. What you settle on, and utterly fail to get your brain to communicate a single word of, is this:

Recently, the noise a volleyball makes when it hits the floor is one you've started to like. It's good. It's hollow. When the gym's quiet, it echoes. When it's noisy, it blends in seamlessly. Off a body, it's a duller sound, and you imagine that has to do with as much of the noise coming from the surface it impacts as it does the ball itself. Right now, the sound you're picturing, your most recent memory, is close to your ear. It's hollow. It echoes. You try to piece together what it was impacting off of, but it's hard to think, because your head fucking hurts.

It doesn't just hurt: it throbs; it pounds; it aches, and the more it aches the more you can't place why it aches, but you should know, shouldn't you? Weren't you there?

The thought pisses you off, and the madder you get, the more it throbs-pounds-aches-threatens to split in half entirely.

If you focus on the pinprick split where your consciousness is begging to fold over, you have the vaguest idea of walking into the gym with someone. Of shouting, of everyone around you, shouting shouting shouting they won't shut up—

Then, your Senpai there, crouching in front of you. Always there.

Oh. Crouching. If he's crouching, eye level, that puts you on the floor.

When you tug on the memory, you have to bite your lip something awful, but there's more there: someone—people—crying. Yachi, Hinata, both in tears as they stand behind your Senpai. Sawamura, yelling louder than you've ever heard him, ordering everyone to stop crowding her—you?—and pinching your skull like a dull pair of scissors.

Your scalp is too tight, a pair of jeans you should have known better than to try and squeeze into, the fabric straining more and more over the thighs and waist with every continued raised voice.

The millionth I'm sorry from Hinata's lips had you snapping, voice thick with tears as you begged for everyone to stop yelling. It's desperate. Pathetic. Not you at all.

Everything too loud, too bright, and you're not sure if it's you or the memory of you lurching with nausea and pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes in vain, desperate hopes of making it all stop stop stop—

Takeda repeats the question in a gentle voice. "[surname]-chan. Can you tell me what happened?"²¹

"Think I died," you manage to grit out. The words are there, the explanations, the details, but they're heavy and you're not sure you can lift them.

A nervous laugh. "Can you tell me anything else?"

You shake your head. Takeda looks to someone else—your Senpai, your Noya—for the answer. "What happened before I got here?"

His voice is too firm and too quiet when he answers. Angry and cold and so, so unlike him. You wish you could focus on the words long enough to catch what he has to say.

Takeda makes a note,²³ looks you over. Asks you some other question that doesn't matter—something about a pain in your neck, which you don't have, or if you do, you can't feel it over the fucking parasite trying to burst out from inside your skull.

Then—

"Alright. I need to ask you a few questions. [surname]-chan—"

Q2. Where are we?

Thinking about it isn't doing you any favors, but you can follow the logic for an easy enough answer. Takeda-sensei, Noya, your boys from the club—

"The," you start, then stop and lean over your knees. "The school. Right?"

That has to be it. Everyone's school people, except Noya, who's an always people, but everyone else is school people. Not even just school people. They're also—

"T-the gym."

Another nod, another note, an assurance that you're doing great. A hand on your shoulder, thumb rubbing soothing circles that seem to be the only thing keeping your soul in your body at this moment in time.

Q3. What time is it?

You're pretty sure you answered something. When you drag your eyes up to look at Takeda—squinting through lights too bright—his expression is worried. You suppose you might also have not actually said anything. It's getting hard to tell.

"How about the day? Can you tell me what day it is?"

"August," you blurt. "August fifth."

Beside you, Noya cringes. That must not be right, then.

Takeda rattles off a few more questions. You don't recall them, or your responses—maybe a balance test, maybe something with remembering a list of words. Just that, at the end of it, he gives you this worried look and speaks in that same gentle tone.

"[surname]-chan, I'm worried that you have a concussion. I'm going to call your parents to take you to the hospital, alright?"

Oh.

…oh.

Your eyes find Noya, distressed and pathetic. You're not sure what you're looking for from him. He gives it to you anyway.

"Shoot, that might be a problem," he says hurriedly. "She was telling me yesterday that her dad had a big business trip he was leaving for today. Something super important for work, right, [name]-san?"

You nod slowly.

"I think he's on a flight right now, actually. You're not gonna get him on the phone."

Takeda frowns. "That'll be a problem. Is she staying with anyone while he's away?"

"Not directly, but she's right down the street from me, and Okaa-san's pretty close with her dad. I can give you her number; she sort of keeps an eye on [name]-san whenever her dad has to go out of town."

It's a lie, probably, but at the very least, you don't have to corroborate a thing. If they make you speak one more sentence, you're throwing up right here and no one is stopping you.

"Thank you, Nishinoya-kun. I'll call your mom. Will you take [surname]-chan to sit outside for now?"

You let him help you up; let him guide you.

Outside, there are birds calling, and their voices, too, are far too loud.

~

Every time Nishinoya Rina's work phone rings with a call from the school, her lungs deflate like a stuck balloon. For a few brief years, it was easier to deal with: at least Yuu and Satsuki were at different schools. At least she knew which of her kids had caused an issue before she picked up the phone.

Statistically speaking, it'll be Satsuki. Yuu's usually the good one, barring those times his tempers or passions get out of hand. One of her friends—estranged now—had always told her how much more wild boys were, but as wild as Yuu is, Rina's never taken a phone call about him sending a classmate to the hospital. It's Satsuki who likes to fight, Satsuki who doesn't have incentive enough to keep her temper in check. It's also Satsuki who likes to fight her brother's fights for him—he's got volleyball, and her favorite sport is trying to get away with fights—and Satsuki who she's let think she doesn't know about every single one, because the poor girl needs an outlet and punishing her will make it worse.

In the time it takes for Rina to get the housewife at her register rung out, the phone has stopped ringing. The woman—Yanagi, a regular, stops in once a week or so for meat for the husband and kids—tuts softly at her expression. "Another call from the school, Nishinoya-san?"

Rina winces. She's never been good at this part of customer service—the endlessly bright, shining face that comes so naturally to most of the rest of her family. "Is it that easy to tell?"

"Satsuki-chan must still be making trouble. You know, if that girl had a strong father figure in her life, I bet she'd come around. Do you know Nakamura-san? I heard he's looking for a wife, and you're still young!"

Only two years younger than her, Rina wants to say, and her kids are doing much better without a father in their lives. Instead, she forces a well-practiced smile. The shop is built on regular customers, after all. "I've got my hands full with the teenagers, Yanagi-san," she replies as the phone begins to ring again. Still Karasuno High School on the caller ID. Still a problem with one of her kids. "I don't really have much time to think about a second husband. Not to mention, who'd be here to slice up pork for your kids if I'm running around with some Nakamura-san?"

Yanagi laughs, saunters towards the door. "If you ever change your mind, let me know and I'll get you his number! You'd better see what your daughter's done this time."

As the front bell rings, Rina snatches up the phone with force enough to break it.

"Hello?" she says, then cringes: her voice came out too harsh, too clipped. Yanagi put her in a bad mood. She needs to learn to control her voice better.

"Excuse me, is this Nishinoya-san? This is Takeda, from Karasuno High School."

"Yes, this is her speaking. Is this about Yuu, or Satsuki?"

"Well, actually, there was an incident during volleyball practice this afternoon, and—"

Oh. Oh shit. It's actually Yuu this time.

Not only is that an insane turn of events, it's deeply concerning.

"—[surname]-chan, one of our managers, was hit in the head with a volleyball and is showing signs of a concussion. Nishinoya-kun mentioned that you're neighbors, and her father is out of town, but that you'd been asked to keep an eye on her in case anything happened. I would strongly recommend that [surname]-chan be taken to the hospital, but without her father available, I'll have to defer to you…"

Rina is silent for a long moment. Part of it is the relief: Satsuki didn't get into any fights, and Yuu hasn't shoved any more members of the faculty in the halls. Another part: the concern, different from its initial form, but still very present.

No one mentioned a word to her about looking after anyone else's kids, but she knows the [surname] name. She's heard it—first in whispers, then spoken aloud from customers and neighbors after enough weeks had passed—all in the context of a hit-and-run incident, but she's certain the only family member she'd ever spoken to would be the mother, now dead. The father, she hasn't seen since then, and she's not quite sure she even knows what the daughter looks like.

In other words, the girl in question is a mixed-up kid who's lying about her father and needs to go to the hospital.

Rina's hands are already on the box of gloves as she comes to a response.

"Thank you for calling. I don't have any staff at the shop—please give me a moment to get everything closed down and I'll take her to the hospital. How is she doing?"

"She's very disoriented. I believe she's understanding everything I'm saying, but she doesn't seem to want to say much. From what Nishinoya-kun has told me, she's very sensitive to noise right now."

"I understand. I'll be there as soon as possible."

When she hangs up, she moves as fast as she can. The open sign is flipped; she scribbles out a sign to post on the door apologizing for the inconvenience. The meats of the day are moved to the walk-in cooler, things are wiped down with a speed she's grown proud of in the years since she took over the shop. She shoves the cash drawer into the safe, misses the apron hook, and as she locks the front door, she locks eyes with an approaching customer—old Mister Watanabe, pries too much and has known her since grade school.

"Oh, are you closing for the day already, Rina-chan? Early, isn't it?"

She flashes an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. If you call the shop and leave a message, I'll have everything packed up for you bright and early tomorrow morning, Watanabe-san. There's been a family emergency."

~

Noya gets permission to stay with you. It takes one look of actual concern to get permission for it, and he doesn't even have to ask. Not that anyone needs a reason for someone to stay—you're only half-there, have to be cajoled into focusing long enough to hold conversation. He's pretty sure it's more from pain than anything—the way you wince when anyone speaks, the way you hold your head. You bury your face in his shoulder, not for comfort, but, it seems, to block out some of the light, and he holds you close in a vain attempt to soothe you.

He wasn't involved in the spike that took you out, but it's still his fault. Had he moved faster, he could have gotten in front of it, could have done some dashing move to prevent your shit from getting wrecked before afternoon practice can even really start.

His mom shows up in record time, talks to Takeda for a bit before all three of you pile into her car. Yachi brought him your bag and clothes from the changing room, so you should be all set to go, and she also promised to keep notes for you until you're back at school. No one has any illusions about that being this week.

Noya sits in the back seat with you while his mom drives. She lasts several minutes of silence before addressing the issue properly.

"So… [surname]-chan, was it?" she asks quietly. Takeda-sensei must have given her the memo about your being sensitive to noise. "You're Yuu's friend?"

You nod weakly. "I-I, um. Down the street?"

"She lives a few doors down from us," Noya translates. He meets her eyes in the rear-view mirror, silently pleading: don't bring up her family.

Mom listens. She's cool like that.

"Well, we'll get you brought to the hospital. How long is your father going to be away?"

"Don't remember."

"You can stay with us, then. Your Sensei is pretty certain you have a concussion, and if the one Kaede had is anything to go by, the doctors aren't going to want you to go home alone for your own sake. She had to spend a little while being monitored to make sure everything was alright."

You jerk, mouth snapping open to reply, only to cut off in a wince. Noya rubs your shoulder soothingly.

"I know, honey. It's not ideal, but I'm a mother, you know? I can't let you go home to an empty house with an injury like that. How are you going to eat and take care of yourself alone?"

You press your lips together firmly, more stray tears slipping down your cheeks. Noya digs out his handkerchief and offers it to you.

"Hurts," you whimper, and his heart breaks.

"I know. We're getting you taken care of, okay?" he murmurs to you, too soft for Mom to hear.

You nod.

The rest of the car ride is relatively quiet. After a bit, you rest your head on his shoulder, dabbing at your cheeks periodically with his handkerchief.

Mom raises an eyebrow when she spots it, but she doesn't say a word.

~

Yuu's… friend? Girlfriend? …is loud about her protests to the diagnosis, Rina notes after several hours at the hospital. Wordier than the car ride, clearly wants to just go home, but, well…

It's a yes to the concussion, and a no to going home without an observation period. They want to keep you overnight and well into tomorrow—24 hours of monitoring in total—which works out, because Rina's not letting you alone until you're actually cleared to return to some amount of activity, and there's a lot she left undone at the shop that she'll need to circle back around for, like prepping for Watanabe's order and cleaning more thoroughly. Or else, Dad might be up for taking over for a day or two while she watches you—she's not so sure about having him watch over you, but if he can take over the shop, she can stay home, and no one misses out on meat for the week. You're clearly upset about it, but Yuu whispered something to you which calmed you just enough to let Rina feel good leaving you for the night.

She'd taken Yuu home to sort out the mess in the kitchen, where she now sits, watching him pace around the table. Soba's taken up residence on top of the fridge, eyes tracking him as he goes. Between her and Soba, she's not sure the last time either of them saw him so upset.

"Yuu, honey, sit down," Rina says gently.

"Can't. She's gonna be alright, right?"

She nods. "That's why they're keeping her overnight. So she will be alright."

"Okay, but why do they think she needs to be watched so long?"

"It's normal for a concussion. You were too young to remember, but Kaede had to do the same thing."

"Nee-san did? How'd she get a concussion?"

Rina cringes. "It was… a rough time. Better that you don't remember."

His eyes harden in understanding, footsteps slowing to a stop.

Every day, it gets harder to address Yuu and Satsuki about their father. In theory, they're too young to remember much, and someday, she'll have to sit them down and tell them the story in full so they understand, but not here. Not now. Satsuki certainly remembers enough to be affected, and with the way Yuu looks at her now, he knows enough that they can save the conversation for another day. Some other time, maybe, when Yuu's girlfriend isn't laying in a hospital bed and when Yuu's not busy wearing a new path into the tile floor.

Not today.

He sits, and she stares him down. "So, tell me about your girlfriend."

"She's not my girlfriend," he says reflexively.

She raises an eyebrow. His shoulders drop a little.

"…yet. But I'm gonna marry her someday."

Rina laughs, shoulders dropping a bit. That's a bit more like her son. "Does she know that?"

"Of course! I've proposed to her almost a hundred times already. I really think she's coming around to the idea."

"I'd expect no different from you," she says with a good-natured sigh. "What's the real reason your teacher's calling me about her, and not her father?"

"I guess you know about what happened with her mom?"

She knows the rumors. It was all her customers wanted to talk about for weeks at the shop—such a tragedy, poor girl had to watch her mom die, the man didn't even stop—but she'd been busy that day, hadn't been home to see it happen.

She vaguely remembers coming home with groceries to see flashing lights on the street and panicking, thinking one of her kids had gotten caught up in something. Remembers the all-consuming guilt that had overtaken her at the thought that oh, good, all my kids are okay on hearing that a woman had died, that a girl almost her son's age had to watch it happen. "More or less. Her father's still around, right?"

"Not really. She just told me about it the other day. He comes home super late, barely even looks at her if he is home early enough to see her. She's been basically on her own this whole time."

"So he's not actually on a business trip."

"He isn't."

"So you lied to Takeda-sensei."

"Look, [name]-san is—she doesn't need to deal with trying to navigate the school asking questions about her dad while she's got a concussion, and I don't think she really wants it brought up. It took a lot just for her to mention it to me, and she really only did it because she thought I already knew. I'm not gonna turn around and immediately tell Sensei that her home life's screwed up. She''ll never trust me again like that. I'm not even sure she really trusts me now."

"So her father's neglecting her."

"She has, like, food and stuff. He gave her a debit card to use for groceries and all that. He just… won't talk to her. Won't spend any time around her. She's mostly managing the team to get out of the house because she doesn't want to come home, so I try to do what I can to keep her busy. She doesn't smile very much." He pauses. "She's really lonely."

Rina's heart cracks a little. It makes sense—she knows where else she's seen you. You come into the butcher shop sometimes, buy the cheapest meats not with a sense of desperation but with a look of guilt. You don't make conversation. You don't do much more than speak when spoken to, ask for the meat you're after, and smile a polite little smile that never seems to reach your eyes. Just a can I get a pound of this cut? and a thank you very much when everything's wrapped up and paid for. Once or twice, a how much of this do you think would be good for two people for a week? The split in your lip was new, but it hadn't been the first time you'd come into the shop with some kind of visible bruise or another.

"She's going to stay with us at least until the concussion starts clearing up. I'm not letting that girl go home without someone to take care of her. What does she like to eat?"

Yuu's brow furrows as he thinks it over. "She likes sweet things. I don't think she's very picky, either." A pause. A flash of realization. "She likes karaage, I think. And curry, but we just had that the other night. I think she's still eating the same batch. She might appreciate something different."

Rina smiles. "'We'?"

His cheeks are pink when he replies, "When we got back from the training camp. She made curry while telling me about her family, and I stayed for dinner. She's a really good cook."

"She sounds like a sweet girl. There's some things I need to handle before picking her up tomorrow; you can either come with me back to the shop to do prep for tomorrow, or you can stay here and make sure the guest futon is clean and dry for her. I don't think it's a good idea for you to be without a task right now, though."

He nods. He gets extra restless, sometimes, and somehow she gets the weird sense that if she leaves him without something to occupy him, she'll come back to the house on fire or receive a call that Yuu has broken into the hospital after visiting hours. "I think I'll stay here and make things ready for her."

"I'll make a list for you, then."

They sit down together like that for a bit, making a list—what to clean tonight, how to make her comfortable, who to ask to borrow what (Satsuki's clothes if she's not comfortable with Yuu's or sending someone to grab some from her place, Mei's shower stuff). Yuu's never been great keeping tasks straight in his head, never been the best at focusing, but that's why the list—whatever he gets done will be a help, and whatever he doesn't, they can tackle together when she's home from the shop. She'll talk to the girls tonight, talk to Dad when she can. Tomorrow, she'll take Yuu with her back to pick you up from the hospital, and it'll all work out somehow.

That's all it needs to do.

Footnotes

21. This chapter, and me not bringing an on-site school athletic trainer into the mix despite that not being an uncommon thing to have available at American schools (or else I worked with a very unique set of athletic trainers in a county that can employ athletic trainers at every high school but not a fucking French teacher), is dedicated to Jun Matsuno, whose master thesis²² I read in its entirety for exactly one line telling me whether or not Japanese high schools would also have an athletic trainer on campus to be brought in in case your club's manager fucking dies by volleyball. Everyone say thank you Jun Matsuno. I'm entirely positive that the goal you had in mind when writing your Master's thesis and approving it for public availability was for some Ao3 author to use it to write a very long fanfic about a less-popular Haikyuu character someday, so I am here to actualize that goal. Congrats on your Master's! I hope you're using it well, sir.

22. Jun Matsuno, "Perception of Athletic Training Services of Japanese Collegiate Student Athletes," Online Theses and Dissertations, 2013, https://encompass.eku.edu/etd/192.

23. I couldn't figure out a good way to stick this note on the chapter title, but he's filling out the Sports Concussion Assessment Tool. Haikyuu is set in 2012, so he's specifically using the SCAT 2nd edition (the SCAT2), based on my research to figure out what edition was in use at the time. The SCAT3 was introduced in 2013.²⁴ Some research on the subject seems to imply that the English-language concussion assessment tools is the same as the concussion assessment tools used in Japan, presumably after having been translated to Japanese.²⁵, ²⁶

24. Echemendia et al. "The Sport Concussion Assessment Tool 5th Edition (SCAT5): Background and rationale." British Journal of Sports Medicine 51 no. 11 (June 2017): 848/850. PubMed.

25. Suzuki et al. "Knowledge of, and Attitudes Toward, Concussion in Japanese Male Collegiate Athletes." Front Sports Act Living 4 (2022). PubMed Central.

26. Otomo et al. "Concussions in Japanese High School Rugby Players: Research on injuries, symptoms, and signs." British Journal of Sports Medicine. 52 (2017): 368-369.

Tags: @deeplightgarden @idonthaveanameideayet @dusstory @kazunish

[demona-andariel]

Object of Obsession - 40 / 46

Fandom: Halloween

Pairing: Michael Myers x OFC

Summary: In Haddonfield everyone knows the legend that was Michael Myers. Content and at ease, they’d forgotten what it was to feel fear in the month of October. But now, he finds himself back and ready for blood but then a bond forms between him and one of his victims. A bond he can’t seem to break. And it starts to make him do things he never thought of doing before.

Warnings: (Encompassing the whole story in no particular order) kidnapping, noncon, explicit sexual content, smut, loss of virginity, rough sex, blood and violence, knifeplay, canon-typical violence

Author Note: Minors DNI!

Word Count: 3,825

Chapter 40 - Up Against A Wall

The horrible sound of something hard hitting flesh echoed in her mind. They were killing him. She couldn't see. All she could do was listen. Listen to the sounds of blunt weapons connecting with flesh. Hear Michael's grunts as he fought for his life. Strange men yelled, coordinating with each other against him. He needed help. Her help.

She struggled, but her hands were cuffed behind her back. What was wrong with her? She didn't need her arms to help. All she needed was her voice. Only… muffled words came out. She was gagged. They knew how to stop her from helping. Her wrists hurt as she strained to free herself. All she needed was to get the gag off. But it was impossible. Dark world, gagged, bound, helpless.

No! Not helpless. She could do something. She just needed the damn gag gone. She'd make them pay. It was her and Michael against the world. And the world was fucked.

"I'm doing this for you," a familiar voice whispered in her ear. She froze.

Nathan? No…

"I know you think I'm the bad guy here. I'm not. I'm trying to save your soul, babe. Before you doom it to hell for siding with a killer," Brandon's voice said, causing a cold chill to run through her body. She felt an arm wrap around her from behind, pulling her back against his body. She desperately tried to get away, tried to move towards the noises, to Michael. He had a knife. He could cut through the gag.

"Don't worry. I'm not as cruel as he is. I won't let you watch him die like he made you watch me die." He wasn't leading her away though. He was holding her there. He wasn't going to let her watch, but he sure as hell intended for her to listen to every strike, ever grunt of pain until Michael was silent.

She screamed into her gag. If only he'd let her help.

"No!" Gretchen cried out as she shot up in bed. Her body shook and pulse with fear. The cold sweat coating her skin caused the chilly room to feel even colder. She placed her hands on her head, rubbing her fingers along her scalp.

When?

Soon.

"Michael?" She needed to warn him. Gretchen turned, placing her hand on the empty side of his bed. Her heart momentarily sank. Of course he was gone. He was probably out there again, killing and-

"Don't, Gretch," she muttered to herself. "He wouldn't leave you alone like that. Not so soon." Last time he left, he woke her up and said goodbye. No. He was around, nearby.

She got out of bed and walked to the dresser. Sifting through the clothing she'd haphazardly thrown into each drawer the night before, she grabbed the first shirt and leggings she saw.

Her mind wandered back to her dream. Or was it a vision? A vision of sorts. Brandon was coming back. She knew deep down he wasn't gone. He'd come back. But, she also knew he couldn't enter the house. While in the house she was safe from him. They were safe. But, Michael wouldn't stay cooped up in the house for long. And Brandon would probably taunt him into leaving.

She needed answers. She'd drawn specific situations before. Situations that she didn't want to see and hid from herself. Not this time. She needed to know. Needed to see. Needed to figure out a way to avoid that fate.

Gretchen stopped by her art room first, grabbing the first sketchbook and pencil she could see, before heading downstairs to make some breakfast. Brandon's goal hadn't changed. He was still after her, but the way he was going about it had. Instead of focusing on trying to get Michael to kill her or her to kill herself, he was going to try and kill Michael. It made sense. He couldn't get to her while Michael was around.

If you think I'm going to let you kill Michael you're in for a surprise. Brandon had her at a disadvantage before. There had been a lot going on. A lot she had to process and struggle with. Brandon's death. Michael abducting her. Her near immediate realization that she was attracted to the killer. Her own denial of that whole situation. And then there was Brandon's ghost and his apparent mission to slowly drive her insane. Insane enough to have Michael kill her, or for her to take her own life. But, he failed. His actions only pushed her and Michael closer together.

Brandon knew more about her than she realized. He'd thrown out subtle hints. Just enough to make her wonder, but not enough for any answers.

"Really going to use your words against me? Again?" Brandon knew. In her vision, her mouth was gagged, meaning he knew how dangerous it was allowing her to speak. It seemed that everyone in her life knew more about her than she did.

Gretchen set down her sketchbook and pencil on the dining room table.

Maybe Brandon was given more knowledge once he'd died. Why he suddenly became obsessed with her, calling her his soulmate, was confusing. She never admitted to him that she thought that. He never acted like he thought they were soulmates. Had he always been possessive towards her? Possibly. She'd been blinded. Blinded by her own desperate need for happiness, she didn't see any potential red flags from him.

Although, it wasn't like Michael wasn't one giant red flag himself. He was a serial killer after all with little care as to who his victims were. Except children. That was one thing he had going for him. He didn't kill little kids.

But, there was something about Brandon that made him seem worse to her. He's a liar. A parasite. He doesn't want you because he loves you.

There was an argument that could be made that Michael's interests in her was purely carnal. Why else had he trapped her in his house, except to fuck her? Make sure she didn't escape? He had been holding her captive.

Had.

She had been trapped, held against her will for some time. But, oddly enough, she had more freedom with Michael. Freedom to be herself. If she'd realized that sooner she could have leaned more into exploring who she really was. What she could do.

Michael didn't care. She could have been the most mentally unstable person and he probably would have shrugged his shoulders and fucked her anyway. Maybe she could have confided in him earlier about her visions, about hearing things. About possibly being haunted. Whether he took her seriously or not, he wouldn't have scoffed at her. She was who she was and he accepted that.

"Because they're you." His words repeated in her mind when he told her why he liked her scars. From the beginning, he'd latched onto the fact that his reaction towards them made her afraid. He didn't have to, but he made sure to never shy away from them. To touch them in the most intimate way he could.

Gretchen tapped the fingers of one hand on the table while her other hand rubbed her scars. Scars that had a deeper more troubling meaning. She still wasn't ready to open up that can of worms and explore that whole part of her life. Of the lie she was allowed to believe.

Gods! So much was happening in such a short amount of time. She wasn't being given any time to think. To adjust to her situation.

Maybe that was why her uncle didn't tell her, prepare her. He knew she was going to end up with Michael Myers. She couldn't exactly blame him for being afraid if that was true. What exactly was she? A witch? Perhaps. Although, her father used to say that they were descendants of druids. Whatever the case was, she was just as dangerous as Michael and all she had to do was speak.

Gretchen tapped her pencil against her sketchbook. Her eyes focused on the page she'd opened. She frowned. It was empty. There was no image she'd absentmindedly drawn to give her another glimpse of what was to come to past.

She flipped through the pages, just in case she'd tried to hide the future, but there was nothing else. Returning to the blank pages, she ran her fingers along the paper.

Future unknown?

"Now you remain silent," she muttered to her mind. She'd been plagued with glimpses here and there of what was to come, but now that she wanted more information her mind refused to cooperate.

"This path will only lead to your heartbreak," her uncle's words echoed in her mind.

This path?

She sat up straighter. There were only a handful of visions that she remember and all of them she never once bothered trying to change their outcome. It was because the outcome was something she thought she wanted. Not this time.

She gulped, swallowing back the gorge that started to develop in her throat. What if the answer was her heartbreak? What if there was no saving him? Unless… what if she left him?

Her heartbeat picked up at the thought. It wasn't like this was the first time Michael's life was in danger. Hell, she was pretty sure he'd been almost killed several times. But, what if she was his doom, his weakness?

She clenched her fists in frustration. Her uncle had done her a great disservice in not preparing her. Then again, maybe he was doing the world a favor. She had no idea what else she was capable of. She would fight for Michael. That she was sure of. Kill for him.

Perhaps her uncle always knew that. It would explain why her father attacked her when she was a kid. He found out that his daughter would fall in love with a serial killer and want to protect the man. So, her family conspired to keep her abilities hidden from her. Keep her in the dark.

Twenty-three. An age she'd been most looking forward to because she was promised answers.

Tomorrow.

Her skin rose as an uneasiness settled on her at the thought. She thought that he chose just a random number, but what it if wasn't so random? Something nagged at her in the back of her mind. An answer to the question she'd just asked, but her brain still held some fog. The pills her uncle had her own clearly affected her abilities, dampened them.

The light in the hallway flickered, interrupting her thoughts. Gretchen glanced up from the table into the hallway. It flickered twice more before going dark. With a loud dramatic sigh, she got up from the table and grabbed the chair she was sitting on. She partially dragged it across the room into the hallway, setting it under the burned light.

She found the spare set of bulbs she'd put under the kitchen sink. Climbing onto the chair, she let out a little shriek as it wobbled under her.

"Gods, if a chair is my undoing I'm going to scream," she mumbled. She glanced in the direction of the dining room. There were plenty of other chairs to grab, but that seemed like a lot of extra effort for a quick second change.

Steadying her feet, Gretchen reached up and unscrewed the burned bulb. Fingers brushed the skin on her belly, causing her to jump in surprise.

"Gods, shit! Fuck! Michael?!" she exclaimed.

His other arm wrapped around her to grab her ass and steady her, as the fingers of his right hand pressed against her belly.

Stupidly tall, silent man.

"I…" Her heart pounded wildly in her chest at his touch. His blue eyes locked on to her hazel ones, but he didn't give her any sign of what he was thinking.

Slowly, he looked up at the empty light socket.

Right.

His powerful arms held her steady as she reached up and screwed in the new bulb.

"Thank you," she said as she looked down at him. Michael's eyes slowly traveled down her body, causing her to swallow hard. She was at a better height for him to view her scars. The scars she thought she'd received in a car accident but apparently were made by her own father.

The thought made her body tremble. So much going on and such little time to process.

Michael looked up at her. His fingers gently touched her scars.

"Michael, I need to tell you-" a loud involuntary moan drew out of her as he placed his lips on her stomach. She ran her fingers through his hair short brown for a moment.

He pulled away. His right hand left her stomach to rise up over her shirt. She started to lean forward then froze as his fingers tweaked the single erect nipple that teased him through the fabric.

His face twitched slightly and he cocked his head to one side. Reaching out, he popped open one button of her shirt. So busy in her own head, she hadn't realized what she wore. Apparently, the first shirt she had grabbed was the old button-up shirt she had found in the house her first day there.

He opened a second and then third button. His eyes focused on the curves of her breasts as he slowly revealed them. Her heart fluttered at the thought of him filling her up, pounding into her, releasing the stress that was building up inside.

"You're not one to watch the world bleed." Wasn't she? She didn't care about the world, but Michael… She couldn't watch him bleed. It suddenly hit her. The answer. She knew what she needed to do to save him.

She grabbed his wrist when he moved to the fourth button.

"I want to go back to my uncle," she said. Before he could do anything, she dropped down and turned her back to him. "I think it's going to be better for us."

He grabbed her wrist, turning her to look at him. His face searched hers as she brought her other hand up to make him release her.

"Michael, Brandon's coming back," she said with concern, pulling at his fingers with her free hand. "I don't… I don't want to see you die. If I stay… you'll-"

He grabbed her other wrist and pushed her back till she hit the wall, pinning her arms above her head. His body crowded hers and she couldn't help but whimpered a little. Her eyes widened in surprise as her breathing deepened. Gods damn, you. He was making it harder for them. He had to know, had to feel that they were doomed.

"Michael."

His eyes focused on the shirt. Trapping both of her wrists with one big hand, he withdrew his knife. She swallowed hard and watched as he pressed the blade against the fabric. The cool steel brushed her skin. She gasped and couldn't help but tense. He's not going to kill you.

She knew that. It was just a little game for him. A game he hadn't been able to play with her in quite a while. The dangerous, unpredictable killer. Or, maybe he would kill her this time. She told him she wanted to leave and he couldn't allow that. Could he?

His eyes focused on what he was doing. He cut through the threads to pop open another button. She gasped again as he used the knife to push the fabric to one side. The blade left light scratches but nothing that caused her to bleed. He moved slowly, cutting out the remaining buttons till the shirt hung open over her.

Her body automatically froze as the knife paused just above her scars. He didn't give her time to seriously believe he'd even try to tease touching them with his blade. He dragged the cool steel back up her middle to her collarbone. There was a moment, a brief pause on the first cut he'd given her the first day she was there. It was all but gone. A small prick she'd made struggling.

Michael's muscles tensed as if he was thinking about pushing the blade into her skin. Taking in a small breath, she exhaled, pushing her chest out just a little bit more. The knife pierced her skin, sending a small but sharp pain through her. Michael froze then pulled his hand back just as a trickle of blood seeped out of her wound. He stared at the trail as it slowly went down her body. Then he lifted his eyes to look at her.

"Are you going to kill me? Or are you going to fuck me?"

His nostrils flared. He raised his knife, placing it by her neck, causing her to move her head to one side. His blue eyes blazed with desire to-

"Fuck you," he stated. He dropped the knife and roughly turned her around. The shirt was torn off her in an instant as were her leggings. He pressed up against her and they both moaned as she felt his growing erection. Michael moved his hands off her as he got rid of his clothes.

She turned around. As much as she wanted him to press her against the wall and fuck her from behind, she more desperately wanted his lips on hers. She jumped up, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. He immediately placed one arm under her ass to help support her.

He slammed her against the wall almost a little too hard, but it didn't matter. His mouth went to her neck while his body grinded against hers. His cock brushed against her, teasing her.

“Michael,” she moaned. Her voice low, heavy and full of lust. She ran her fingers through his hair, before forcing him to kiss her. It was deep and passionate. Her free hand went between them to grab his cock as he guided her down onto him. She let out a gasp, releasing his mouth, as his cock entered her.

"Michael," she moaned into his ear. She hugged him, digging her fingers into his shoulders as he pushed her up against the wall and fucked her hard.

His cock drove into her, reminding her again and again that they were meant to be. He was just right for her. Michael leaned back to grab her neck for a moment. He squeezed to get her attention. His blue eyes stared into hers.

"Mine," he stated.

She nodded her head in agreement. They completed each other. They'd always had an interest, a connection. And with each passing day, each fuck, it only grew stronger.

He let go of her neck to firmly grab her ass for better leverage. His thrusting became erratic, matching his breathing. He was going to come soon. She held on as tightly as she could, letting her moans tell him how she felt.

He slammed her down hard as he pushed up one final time. His warm cum filled her up. She tightened her legs around his waist for a moment, desperately trying to keep him in her for a moment longer.

Gods. Either the world is doomed or we're doomed.

She let out a content sigh and hummed. Michael's hand wrapped around her neck as he moved her head back. Despite his attempt at being semi-rough, he still took care not to hurt her still freshly bruised neck. His body pressed against hers, keeping her up on the wall.

His blue eyes slowly examined her face. She breathed deeply as she watched him.

"Never kill," he stated.

She swallowed hard. "Only fuck?"

"Mine," he stated.

Yours.

Michael's eyes deliberately looked behind her at the wall then back at her. He moved his free hand up to stroke her bottom lip.

"You really wanted to fuck me against this wall," he said, stringing along more words than ever before.

Her pupils dilated. She thought it was a dream, telling him that back when she was feverish. Clearly, it wasn't and he remembered. She kissed him, holding onto him tightly for one more moment. Fuck it! It was them against the world now, wasn't it? That's what she had decided. Michael was a killer and apparently so was she. She'd told her uncle that Michael wouldn't let her go. She'd also told him that she wouldn't let them take her either.

"Come," she said, unwrapping her legs from around his waist. She grabbed his hand, leading him to the living room. She pushed him back against the couch before straddling his lap. A smirk crossed his lips as his hands went along her thighs and then up her waist. His fingers roamed her stomach for a moment. She ran her hands along his face, tracing his features.

"I thought I came here for Brandon." His eyes narrowed as his jaw clenched. "I had a vision. I told you that. I saw me and him together. Only, that specific event led me to you and you to me. I thought he was my destiny, but you are. Fate's fucked up."

He huffed and smirked, looking away for a moment.

"Michael," she said. She grabbed his left hand and brought it up to her right cheek. Slowly, she moved it down her skin. "You cut me here."

His body stiffened as his pupils dilated slightly.

"No," he said, shaking his head as he moved his hand back. She tightened her grip not letting him escape.

"You cut me here," she reiterated. "You have to. Brandon's coming for me. For you."

His fingers curled slightly as he clearly fought her words. She refused to let him go. He had to understand. Slowly, he opened his hand and used his thumb to run along the invisible line of what needed to be. He shook his head again.

She let out a sigh.

"I had a dream… a vision this morning. Soon, I don't know where or when, but soon, Brandon's going to attack us. He's going to bring men with him. They are going to attack you. Kill you. You need to cut me here." She ran his finger along her cheek again. "I'll be gagged. I need my words, Michael. I'm not sure how, but I guess I cast spells? He knows what I can do. I think he's always known. He's been scared of me. Trying to push me into thinking I'm helpless against him. He's going to be able to gag me somehow. I don't think you'll have time to take it off easily. You'll have to cut it off."

His face was once again perfectly schooled, void of any emotions. She moved his hand to the new mark he'd made with her help between her breasts again.

"You can do it, Michael. You did it here. Just, think of it as a bigger mark. One that I'm okay with."

He stared at the mark on her chest for a moment. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her in. His warm mouth pressed against her cheek as he kissed her. She hugged him, pressing her whole body tightly against his. She could handle a scar from him. A deeper more permanent one as long as it meant it saved his life. And that's what that scar meant, wasn't it. Anytime she saw it, it faded in and out. A choice, a path.

As long as Michael helped her, Brandon was fucked.

Chapter 41 - Twenty-Three