#i still have a splitting headache and i want to lay down and cry more (i can cry again!) but i feel better

[1o1percentmilk]

thanks for answering everyone that helps a lot oTL

[love1other]

Not Enough // Sana

Just pure angst

Words - 1,786

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“I love her so much, like when she’s not around I always think about her and what she’s doing. She’s the first thing I think of in the morning and the last one I think about at night.” Y/n cries out to Wendy, her best friend, after finishing another glass of whiskey.

“But it’s like I’m the only one who cares in the relationship, you know? Like I understand she’s busy with her job and that she’s going to be busy a lot. I knew that before we got into the relationship.” Y/n rambles on not making much sense as she’s hard to hear over the loud music at the bar and from her crying.

Wendy has no idea what’s going on, all she knows is that she got a call at 2 a.m. from the bartender asking to come get her friend, who has apparently been there since 8 p.m. drinking and crying. 

“Y/n, what’s going on? Why are you drinking? You don’t drink.” Wendy asks gently, worried about making her friend even more upset- if that’s even possible.

“I’m trying to drown my feelings,” Y/n replies with a dry chuckle, having somewhat stopped crying.

“Why are you trying to drown your feelings?” Wendy asks hesitantly. 

“Because the person who completely owns my heart is cheating on me.” With that said Y/n lays money on the bar, gets up, and heads to the exit.

Wendy looks at the bartender and apologizes before running after her friend. 

“Y/n wait up. What do you mean she’s cheating on you?” 

“Exactly what I said, Wendy! She’s cheating on me.” Y/n cries out while sliding down the outside wall of the bar, and putting her head in her hands.

Wendy stares at Y/n not knowing what to do, she’s never seen her this upset before. 

“Are you sure she’s cheating?”

Y/n lifts her head out of her hands and lays it against the wall to stare at the sky.

“I wish I wasn’t, but I am. I’ve been suspicious for a while, a month to be exact, but I was just overlooking everything and praying I was wrong. But I couldn’t overlook today.” Y/n whispers still staring at the night sky.

Wendy neals in front of her friend, “What happened today?” She asks while taking Y/n’s hands in her own. 

“You know how I was on my business trip? Well, I got back a couple of days earlier than expected, honestly, I pulled some strings to get that to happen. But I knew she had this week off and I just wanted to spend time with her, I’ve missed her so much. Well, I came back to the apartment with flowers, chocolate, a fucking teddy bear.” Y/n bitterly chuckles while Wendy lightly squeezes her hands for her to continue.

“I walk in, expecting her to be relaxing and watching tv like she normally does on her off days. Well, she was there sitting on the couch with the tv on. Except she wasn’t alone, some guy was there. They were both too busy with their tongues down each other’s throats to notice me dropping my stuff. I couldn’t even confront her, I just walked right back out and headed here.”

Y/n cries out.

“Am I not enough Wendy? Why did she need to cheat? Is my love not enough?” 

Before Wendy can even reply Y/n’s phone rings. 

“It’s probably her, she’s been calling the last couple of hours, must have noticed the stuff I had bought her lying on the ground by the door.” Y/n scuffs out, declining the call and then turning her phone off. 

“I’m so sorry Y/n, you don’t deserve that. And you are enough, it's Sana that is the problem, not you, okay?” Wendy says pulling Y/n into her arms, as Y/n starts sobbing. 

--------------------------------------------

You wake up to a splitting headache, but also to your heart hurting. Looking around you see a glass of water and Advil on the bedside table, which you instantly take.

After taking the medicine you reluctantly get up and leave the room, you know where you’re at, you’ve been to Wendy’s dorm more times than you can count. 

Heading to the kitchen she sees Wendy cooking what looks like eggs. “Hey, sleepyhead,” Wendy says after noticing you. 

“What time is it?” You ask, sitting down on a stool.

“2 pm, I was actually about to go wake you up,” Wendy replies, setting a plate of eggs and toast in front of you, which has your stomach turning in a bad way.

You push the plate away and look at Wendy who is already looking at you with gentle eyes. “How are you feeling?” She asks with an even gentler voice. 

“Like complete and utter shit,” You reply with a broken voice. 

“I know I need to confront Sana, I just, my heart can’t take seeing her right now.” You continue.

“That’s completely understandable,” Wendy says, walking around the counter to get to you. Once again she’s pulling you into her arms, which you’re thankful for, her arms bring you comfort.  

“I should warn you, Sana has been blowing up my phone asking about you, she even had Nayeon call Yeri.”

“She’s really not going to give me any space huh?” You mumble in Wendy’s shoulder. 

“Doesn’t look like it,” replies Wendy as she gently rubs your back. 

“Guess I’m just going to have to suck it up and confront her. I mean it’ll probably be better to just get it out of the way,” You say moving out of Wendy’s arms. 

“Are you sure?” Wendy asks holding your hand. 

“Yeah I’m sure, But uh first can I use your shower?” You ask realizing you stink.

“Yeah of course,” Wendy says. 

-------------------------------------------

After a shower and reassuring Wendy, that you’ll be fine and will call her if you need her, you head out to your own apartment, already knowing that this conversation with Sana is going to break you even more, but it needs to be done. 

Getting to the front door of your shared apartment you hesitate, scared you might walk into the same thing as yesterday. 

After a small prep talk, you unlock the door with your key and walk in. 

The apartment is quiet, and the things you had dropped yesterday are now sitting on the dining table. 

Walking to the living room you see the couch, which has your heart clenching remembering what you saw yesterday, but no one is there today. Walking more in it seems the apartment is empty, which you’re glad about if you’re being honest.

Though it seems you thought too soon as you hear your bedroom door open and your heart starts to ache even more as you see Sana in your old high school hoodie, some sweatpants, and red eyes. 

“Y/n,” She says her eyes widening before she runs to you and wraps her arms around you. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” She sobs into your neck.

You just stand there, wondering why she’s crying, she’s the one who cheated, she’s the one who decided to find comfort in another. 

You should be the one crying, she’s the one who broke you.

With that thought in mind, you lightly push her away. 

Looking Sana in her eyes you ask her the one question you’ve been thinking since yesterday.

“Why?”

All she does is look down to the ground as a sob leaves her mouth. 

“Why Sana?” You repeat the question.

Finally, she looks back up at you. 

“I - I don’t know.” She mumbles.

A dry chuckle leaves your mouth.

“You don’t know?!” You say a bit louder than intended causing Sana to flinch. 

“I’m sorry,” Is all she says looking back at the ground.

Running your hands through your hair you ask another question, one you’re not even sure you want the answer to. 

“How long?” 

Sana looks back up at you with pleading eyes, but you don’t give in and you keep a straight face. You need to know how long.

“3 months,” she finally whispers out. 

Hearing that you fall to the ground, a sob leaving your mouth. 

That’s way longer than you thought, you only noticed her becoming distant this last month, but to know it has been going on two months before you had even noticed, hurts even more, especially since she’s been lying right to your face for that long. 

Sobbing, Sana joins you on the ground and once again wraps her arms around you. 

You let her as you’re too busy rethinking the last few months of your relationship, which has apparently been all a lie.

Finally after a few minutes of just sobbing and thinking you sit up and say what needs to be said. 

“We’re done, you can keep the apartment, honestly I don’t even want to be in here knowing that the last three months someone else has been in here. I can get my stuff out by the end of the week.” With that said you push her away and stand up. 

You walk to your old shared room and start to pack a bag with clothes. 

Still sobbing Sana comes into the room, “No please Y/n, don’t do this, I’ve already ended it, he doesn’t mean anything to me, you do.” She cries out. 

“Sana you only ended it because I caught on!” You yell as you turn to her. 

“You probably wouldn’t even have ended it, if I hadn’t of caught you yesterday!” You continue before grabbing your bag and walking past her. 

Right before you’re about to leave Sana grabs your hand. 

“Please Y/n, please give me another chance, I love you.” 

Closing your eyes to stop more tears from falling, you turn back around to face her. 

“No, you don’t love me, if you loved me you wouldn’t have cheated on me for the past three months.” 

With that said you take your last look at the one who has owned your heart for the last two years. She’s in baggy clothes, her hair’s in a messy bun, and her eyes are bloodshot from all the crying, yet she still looks absolutely gorgeous to you. 

Even after completely breaking you.

Pulling your hand away from hers you turn back towards the door and open it. 

“Y/n,” She whimpers out.

You look over your shoulder one last time to see her staring at you desperately. 

“Goodbye Sana.”

And then you’re out the door heading back to your car, yet you know your heart is still back there with Sana and probably always will be.

[sspextkr]

famine┊vampire!coryo/sejanus┊chapter one┊fic navi┊playlist

coriolanus wakes up in dr. gaul's office with a splitting headache, and no idea of what happened to him. little does he know, his world just got rocked.

word count: 1.6k

trigger warnings: needles/injections, emetophobia (one mention)

The first thing he noticed when he finally came to was just how much he ached. The ache was like nothing he had ever experienced before. Sharp pains punched through his gums, followed by waves of extreme nausea that rolled over his entire body. He couldn’t seem to stop shaking. Every time he opened his eyes, the throbbing in his head turned into something sharper.

He lay in Dr. Gaul’s office, drifting in and out until a sharp prick in his forearm seemed to bring him back to reality, later followed by relief.  The throbbing in his head and gums still persisted, but at least he could open his eyes. He half expected to be back in his room, woken up by the refreshing sight of Tigris running her slim fingers through his hair. “How are you feeling, Coryo?” She’d ask with her smile that instantly would calm him.

Instead, he was met with the sour sight of one of Dr Gaul’s assistants, an ugly ginger with freckles across his cheeks that were far too dark for his skin. “Ah, good! You’re awake.” He leaned in closer. The throbbing in his head got worse. Coriolanus cringed as he caught a waft of his breath. The ginger scribbled down something on his clipboard. “Dr. Gaul wanted me to ask you a few quick questions before she came in. Think you can do that for me?”

“Yeah, just.. Talk quietly.” And as far away from me as possible.

The assistant ignored his request, speaking in an obnoxiously loud and cheery tone. “Number one, what’s your name?”

That’s easy. “Coriolanus Snow.”

“Good. Number two, your age?”

Were they all this bland and easy? “18. Soon to be 19.”

“Number three, can you name everything you can smell right now?”

What the hell? These questions weren’t so bland, it seemed. “Uh.. I’m not sure. Maybe.. Some sort of disinfectant. Your breath, and my own. Something.. Irony. Something warm, too..” He trailed off. Were smells always this pungent, now that he thought about it?

The ginger scribbled down his answers. “Number four, same thing, just with sounds.”

“Besides us, I can hear the vents.. Breathing.. A dull thumping.. Like a..  Like a…”

“Like a heartbeat?” The assistant finished for him. 

“.. As a matter of fact, yes. I hear.. A few..” Coriolanus’ eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Alright..” The assistant looked up from his notes, giving the boy an obnoxious smile. He had something green wedged between his two front teeth. Blegh. “The doctor will be here momentarily!”

Coriolanus nearly sighed in relief when the ginger left. That small interaction alone left him feeling overwhelmed, but not in a normal manner. It was almost like hunger. Almost. He’d learnt to block out the sensation of it long ago. But this? This was.. Something new. Something different. An angry blaze that he could barely contain.

He flinched when Dr. Gaul entered the room, body tensing up almost on instinct. Like he was about to strike. But he knew better. An attack would just get him in trouble. Wait, why did he want to physically attack her?

“I know you must have many questions-”

He cut her off. “What the hell happened? Why am I here, and why do I feel so weird? What did you do to me?”

The doctor squinted her mismatched eyes. “Your memory deteriorated more than I thought it would. If you must know, Mr. Snow, you signed up for this yourself.

His heart nearly stopped. Did this to myself? Why would I ever want to endure such a thing?

“Hm.. You might need something to help kickstart your memory.” She pulled a large hypodermic needle out of her pocket, filled with a translucent orange liquid that sloshed around with the consistency of water. 

“Don’t touch me-” Coriolanus hissed as she approached his bed, crying the phrase out again when she grabbed his arm. The doctor persisted, plunging the needle into his forearm and pressed down on the plunger. His skin burned at the touch, protesting whatever she had injected in him. His stomach churned, nausea resurfacing again, before he found himself slipping unconscious.

***

Who knew a flier hanging on a wall in the main foyer would catch his attention so easily? “Donors and volunteers needed,” it read. “Will be paid generously. Contact Dr. Volumnia Gaul if interested.” What did Dr. Gaul need volunteers for? Didn’t she have enough rats working in her lab? It must’ve been big if she needed anything more. Normally, he’d never subject himself to something as humiliating as volunteer work, but the prize money was captivating. 

He needed a second opinion, though. Normally, he’d speak to Tigris about something like this, but he already knew her opinion would be worthless. Self preservation was one of her strong suits. It was a strong suit of his, too, but with the way money was so tight? Some self sacrifice wouldn’t hurt. Maybe what he was looking for was reassurance, and there was only one student who gave it for free at the Academy-

Sejanus Plinth.

He confronted the boy at lunch, sitting in front of him. It wasn’t hard to find him, the boy always hung close to the sidelines, wanting to avoid being ridiculed. You’d think people would grow up and accept the fact that he was district already, but they still gossiped about it like he had moved here yesterday.

“Sejanus,” he greeted politely, earning a startled nod from the other.

“Coriolanus. Can I help you with something?” So proper. So uptight.

“I just need a second opinion, and you’re the only one I trust with this.” Coriolanus took the flier out of his coat pocket, and unfolded it carefully.

“Not to sound rude, but why not ask Clemensia? I thought you two were close, class partners, even.”

“Her opinion isn’t what I need.” Coriolanus dismissed, sliding the flier across the table. “Your’s is better suited, I believe.”

Sejanus picked up the flier and scanned it briefly. “Dr. Gaul wrote this.”

Coriolanus had to suppress the urge to roll his eyes. So damn slow. “Indeed she did.”

Sejanus lifted his head, a puzzled expression on his face. When was he ever not puzzled, though? “You’re thinking of signing up? Why? I’ve heard from other staff members it isn’t going to be a usual series of trials.”

“When is it ever with her? She’ll probably pluck a few of my hairs and try to clone me or something.” Coriolanus shrugged, taking the flier back and refolding it before placing it back in his coat pocket. “And for the academic opportunities,of course. Stay on her goodside. Maybe she’ll put a good word in for me for your father’s prize.”

The brunet’s expression softened a little at that. “You’re hellbent on that prize, huh? I thought the Snow’s lived in a mansion made of money.”

“Then there'll just be some more to add to it. The more the merrier, right?” Coriolanus replied coolly. He attempted a smile to ease the other. It worked somewhat. “It’d pay for my tuition to University, anyway. Just makes things easier.. Which is all the more reason to do it, hm?”

“I guess.” Sejaunus said slowly. Hesitantly. Ugh, this was a waste of time. “If that’s what you want, Coriolanus, then go for it.” He paused. “Just promise you’ll tell me about what goes on in there? I’m too scared to see myself.”

What a baby. “Of course.”

***

To his surprise (and pleasure), he had been the only one to sign up for the trials. Was it really such a surprise, though? Most of these kids were too chicken to kill spiders. Coriolanus, on the other hand, liked them.

Coriolanus decided to keep the ordeal a secret from his family for now. They didn’t have to know. He could say he won some stupid competition at school, or had found a small job. The doctor would require him to visit the lab once a week following the initial procedure. Definitely not usual, but it didn’t concern him.

Never in his wildest dreams would he have suspected her to suggest changing him into a mutt.

“I’ve experimented on countless animals, but never a human.” The doctor informed him when they first met. “Maybe an Avox or two, but that never meant anything. But this, my dear.. Could be the future of Panem as we know it.”

Coriolanus’ jaw tensed. “You’re joking, right?”

“Never.” She smiled. Crooked, unnerving. Evil. “I thought you Snow’s were all about honor and glory? Being the first human mutt would be a huge honor.”

“We also have pride, ma’am.” He retorted, getting ready to make a break for it. “Good day.” 

Just as he turned to leave, two assistants dressed head to two from white grabbed him by the arms. One pulled out a hypodermic needle and jabbed it into his side. Coriolanus felt his legs turn to jelly, head swimming with fog.

“No! Wait-!” He slurred, kicking with what little strength he could muster. The last thing he was able to make out before blacking out was the blank expressions on the assistants faces.

***

He sprung upright with a start, drenched in a cold sweat. Dr. Gaul hadn’t gone anywhere, he could tell by the overbearing scent of her perfume. 

“Did that answer your questions, dear boy?” She taunted him. He couldn’t answer if his life depended on it. “Your vitals are running strongly- Stronger than we expected.”

“What did you do to me?” He stammered.

“We have created the first human mutt in Panem history, and we call it a vampire.”

[glitterandmoondustofficial]

Side To Side

Chapter 249: The Breath Before The Plunge

Notes:

Characters: Ruby, Law Rating: Teen Warnings: Language Notes: 🫣 Anyway life has been, um, turned upside down for me. I’ve been dealing with new pets, the death of a pet and the grief from it, and depression from the economy and worrying about money. It was hard to write Side To Side because it’s sad right now 🤣. But don’t worry now that we’re actually getting to the chapters where Law is on Dressrosa the chapters will more than likely happen on a better schedule. Thank you to everyone who is still reading this. I really appreciate it.

Ruby groaned as she woke. The sun shone brightly through the window and onto her face. She had a splitting headache and felt nauseous.

“Fuck,” she hissed out and curled into the fetal position. “What in the goddamn,” she groaned.

At least she had the day off.

It was a national holiday that day. One of the most important holidays in fact. Maria had excitedly told her about the day and the all day celebration. Food! Drinks! Music! Dancing! It was a day for fun and joy!

Ruby almost gagged at the idea of celebrating that. It was absolutely Law’s influence. It was his irritated frown and the crease in his brow when he was pissed. She couldn’t help but leech his annoyance off of him despite him being hundreds of miles away.

But she also hated them. She hated what they had done to Law and she hated that such a union was celebrated.

The wedding anniversary of King Doflamingo and Queen Lucia.

How utterly disgusting.

Ruby knew that her and Law’s relationship wasn’t perfect or amazing or sweet or…well anything particularly normal, but! their relationship was definitely better than Doflamingo’s. Absolutely. Completely.

Yeah.

Ruby literally rolled out of bed. She laid on the shitty carpet, her cheek pressed onto the floor. She let out a very loud groan, one that Law would definitely express his annoyance at. She could practically hear his scoff and beration.

Act like an adult. She could hear him say.

She huffed, getting annoyed at him for being annoyed at her in this fake scenario where he was with her in that moment instead of on Punk Hazard doing god knows what with that Caesar Clown.

She wouldn’t know of course. She hasn’t spoken to him in over a month.

A whole goddamn month.

Not a sentence or word or even a strained breath as she tried not to cry.

Nope. Nothing.

Because they needed to be “safe”. They needed to be “quiet”. They needed to be “discreet”.

Which was, of course, the correct path. Law was right. She hated admitting to him that he was right. The smug bastard and his ego that she unfortunately found quite hot and attractive and she definitely wanted to kiss his stupid lips.

“UUUUGHHHHHH,” she let out an incredibly loud groan and slammed her hands on the cheap carpet that smelled of cigarettes. “I’m so annoyed at him!”

She had moved on from severe depression to absolute fury.

Anger at Doflamingo. Anger at Corazón. Anger at Law. Anger at herself. Why in all of the layers of hell did she decide to do this? To leave her nakama and safety? To come to this damn island that was so happy and joyous and thrilling. Where the people were so kind as long as you didn't cheat on them.

And sure the toys were creepy but…she supposed they weren’t so bad.

And it was nice and sunny most of the time. Wonderful weather, actually. Maria had dragged her to many outdoor parties and to clubs that had a dance floor on roofs. Ruby usually felt so guilty about going to these things when she needed to be laying low that she barely had fun.

When had she become such a drag? She would have lived for this type of island in her early twenties. She would have partied all night, drank all night, probably found some random person and slept with them for a portion of the night!

Oh, she was so angry. So, so angry.

She didn’t want this island destroyed. She wanted Law to drop this whole scheme and leave this island alone. These people didn’t deserve this island destroyed because Doflamingo was an awful, terrible, shitty person.

If he would just see what she saw, if he would just feel what she felt, he would understand. He couldn’t be so wrapped up in his revenge that he would hurt…

Oh, fuck her, of course he would hurt people. He was a pirate and not a good person. His epithet was The Surgeon of Death.

And it’s not that she was an angel either. She’s hurt people. She’s killed people. But…

She’s changed! The Heart Pirates changed her. Her wonderful crew, who were full of somewhat kind people! Right?

Well, no, that’s not true is it?

They were pirates.

They hurt people.

They weren’t just having fun on the sea, were they? Sure they weren’t raping and pillaging, but, damn, they weren’t really great people. Goofy? Funny? Having fun? Sure!

But, no, they were pirates.

Had Ruby grown tired of pirating? Had she began to resent the sea, her home? She loved Law, she loved her crew, but she was tired.

She placed her palms on the ground and lifted herself up. She sat cross legged on the ground, her bare back cracking as she leaned forward. She sat down, in her grey sweat shorts, and sighed.

“Guess I’ll take something for the headache and eat breakfast,” she mumbled like she had a hangover despite not having one.

She stood up and started to get ready for the day. She threw on a camisole and slipped on fuzzy slippers. She threw her long hair up in a bun and then brushed her teeth in her tiny bathroom.

She had finished her yogurt and was sipping her fucking terrible coffee when she heard a loud cheer from outside. She walked to the window and stared out of it.

There was a parade.

Floats, balloons, clowns, dancers, confetti, food. It was so very bright and joyful. And fun, she supposed. Not for her, of course. She was bitter and hated Doflamingo and Lucia. They were terrible, evil people.

She sighed and started to walk away from the window when the largest float caught her eye. Her breath hitched and she hid behind the curtain.

“Shit,” she hissed. “What a fucking dumbass move, Ruby.”

Of course Doflamingo would be on the float celebrating him. She peered through the curtain and saw the obnoxiously pink feather coat. Her heart sped up and her stomach clenched in anxiety. If he saw her…

She looked over the float and blinked when she saw a tall woman in an elegant dress. Ruby did her best to get a clearer view of her without showing herself.

That was Lucia.

She was tan. She had long black hair. She was very tall. Not as tall as Doflamingo but still quite tall.

She looked quiet and serene. Like the celebration meant nothing to her. Ruby wondered if it was because she didn’t want to be around the citizens, not enjoying being around those beneath her station. Royalty tended to be like that.

But she was quite beautiful. At least from what Ruby could see.

Then again Ruby’s boyfriend was also tall, tan, and had black hair. Ruby wondered what Lucia’s eye color was but wouldn’t dare leave her flat to find out.

She huffed and closed the curtain. She was no longer interested in seeing a celebratory parade and had definitely cut it too close by watching what little she had.

She placed her mug in the sink and filled it with water. She let out a long sigh before placing her hands on her hips. Once the parade was over she would…what would she do?

Perhaps she would go to a restaurant. She knew there was no way she could grocery shop. It was her fault for being an idiot and not buying groceries before she ran out of food.

There would be plenty of events to keep her busy, a ton of food, but she probably shouldn’t leave the flat. If the Family was out today, then she could be caught. She was sure that they would recognize her. If she had been just some random pirate then they wouldn’t have cared, but she was a pirate on Law’s crew.

She was a pirate on Law’s crew, who had a bounty, and who also destroyed a slave trade that Doflamingo had owned. She also killed Knotely but she doubted Doflamingo cared about him.

At best, Ruby was an annoyance. At worst, and this one was probably closest to the truth, she was a weakness for Law and would be used against him.

She sighed and walked to the bed and collapsed on it. She would stay in and read the new romance books she bought the other day. She would make a cheap meal with the rest of the rice and some seasoning that she had. She would stay safe, she would stay hidden, and she would stay quiet.

Ruby sat on the bed as she reached the end of her second novel. The sun was setting in the distance, turning the sky all sorts of pretty colors. The celebration was still going strong. Cheers and music and happy people.

She sighed and closed the book. She laid back on the bed and stared at the ceiling.

“This sucks,” she said. “Really fucking sucks.” She laid on her side and looked out of the window. “Maybe I’ll just fall asleep. I have some sedatives left.” She reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the bag of pills when there was a knock on the door.

Her skin pricked in fright as she stared at the bag of pills. Who was at her door? Was it Doflamingo? Was it Maria? Did Law somehow make it Dressrosa and completely ignored the plan they had set up for their meeting!

Ruby got out of bed, her heart racing. She walked to the door, her hands shaking as she looked out the peephole. She immediately relaxed.

She opened the door and smiled at her neighbor.

“Julia,” she greeted. “How can I help you?”

“Ah!” The very small older woman grinned. “I came by to give you this!” She shoved a paper plate covered in foil into Ruby’s hands. “I know how hard it is to enjoy celebrations when you’re grieving. I thought that since you may not want to enjoy the parties today that I might bring you something to have a…private celebration.”

“Oh,” Ruby said, her throat squeezing as she tried not to cry. “Thank you. This is…this is very kind of you,” she said.

“You’re welcome,” she said and turned. “Have a great rest of your evening.”

Ruby closed the door and breathed. She smelled the garlic in the dish and her mouth watered. Rice really wasn’t enough to sustain her. She stood at the counter eating her chicken with such energy that she was certain that Julia had put some sort of magic in it.

After she finished the food she took a shower. She washed her face, brushed her teeth, brushed her hair. She laid on the bed in her grey shorts, stretching her arms and breathing.

She laid back onto the pillows and closed her eyes. The food that she was giving had settled into her stomach and she felt good enough that she would fall asleep.

And she almost had.

She had begun to drift off when her den den mushi rang. She blinked open her eyes and stared at it.

“Why is he calling?” She muttered.

She reached for the snail on her nightstand and took in a breath.

“Hello?” She answered.

“Ruby,” Law’s hushed voice said. “Are you alone?”

Ruby swallowed. “Yeah,” she breathed. “Are you?”

“…somewhat.”

Her brows scrunched together and she stared at the snail. “What does that mean?”

“I left Punk Hazard,” he said and took in a shaky breath. Ruby knew that breath.

“Why are you hurt?” She asked.

“That’s not important,” he said. “I’m on my way to Dressrosa,” he said. “With…allies.”

“Allies?” She questioned. “Who?”

Law was silent for a moment. “The Straw Hats.”

“The who?!” Ruby shot out of bed.

“Pipe down,” he hissed. “It’s a long story,” he sighed. “One that I’m too tired to go into right now,” he huffed and then a small hiss came from his mouth in pain.

“Law,” she said softly. “You’re in pain.”

“I’ll be fine,” he croaked. “I can handle this.” He sighed. “I’ll be there in about three days, according to Nami-ya,” he said. “I’ll meet you at the port we discussed.”

“Okay,” she said, her heart leaping out of her chest. “I-I…I missed your voice,” she admitted. “I missed you.”

He sighed. He didn’t respond for some silent moments. “I missed you, too,” he whispered. “I won’t speak to you again until I’m there. So continue to lay low until I do.”

“I will,” she said with a nod. “Get some sleep, Law, you sound like you need it.”

“I do,” he said with a half chuckle. “Ruby,” he breathed. “I love you. I hope you understand that. I love you more than…” he trailed off. “Well, it doesn’t matter. I’ll be there soon. Good night.”

He hung up.

Ruby stared at the snail and heard the dial tone through the speaker. She swallowed and let out a breath.

“I love you, too.”

[welikeclownsinthishouse]

This is the first Whumptober (@ailesswhumptober) I will be participating in and I'll try to write for as many days as possible! All my fics will be published to AO3, my handle there is EverySnowflakeIsDifferent. :)

Day one: Sick

When Ben first woke up with a sore throat and a small headache he ignored it the same way he ignored his nose clogging up every time he lay down.

He ignored the nausea that followed only a few days later as well, not wanting to stop his search just because his body decided to quit on him all of a sudden. It worked, in his opinion at least, the symptoms might have been annoying but they weren't interrupting anything.

A few days later the nausea turned from mildly inconvenient to unbearable however and his mild headache turned into a splitting one, making it impossible to read, talk, or even see without wanting to squeeze his eyes shut and to never open them again. He couldn't even try to force himself to read about the possible locations of Payback, his vision blurring and his body rebelling every time he tried.

What made everything even worse than it already was, was that he hadn't been sick since he first took compound V all these years ago, he hadn't even had a sniffle since then, never even a light headache. He knew that his sudden illness had to be a result of what happened in Russia, that his body apparently wasn't strong enough to deal with a small little virus now.

He couldn't do anything about it though, he couldn't stop his body from feeling this way just like he couldn't stop the Russians from fucking up his body in the first place.

He couldn't even go rob a pharmacy or even try and find a hospital to steal from considering he couldn't even really move anymore; his limbs ached and every single movement, no matter how small, caused a burst of nausea and pain to shoot right through him, rendering him almost completely immobile.

That's why he'd been lying on the bathroom floor for the last few hours unmoving and completely exhausted, his skin hot and sweaty. The dirty tiles underneath him gave him a little reprieve at least, providing a small amount of comfort as they cooled him down somewhat, even if the shivering was getting annoying.

He could feel another bout of nausea welling up within him as he lay there, staring at the ceiling, and he couldn't help but groan as he maneuvered his aching body into an upright position, his head pounding with the movement.

Ben trembled when he leaned over the toilet and bile rose in his throat, the smell of cold vomit that lingered didn't do anything to help the nausea that took over in the slightest.

He threw up not long after he grabbed the toilet seat in a tight grip, using it as leverage, to keep himself upright. The seat made a soft cracking noise but Ben didn't care, not really; as soon as he could he would leave this place anyway.

He could feel his throat burn and his stomach constrict while he cursed himself for not being stronger than this; he really should be stronger, he shouldn't even have gotten sick in the first place.

He should be out right now, getting his revenge on payback and instead, he was sitting in a dingy bathroom, throwing up the only food he had been able to keep down since this whole nausea bit started.

He could feel tears prick at the corners of his eyes, from the vomiting only of course, and angrily wiped them away while his other hand stayed curled around the toilet seat.

He was already weak enough, he wouldn't start crying now just because he got a little sick. This was nothing compared to the shit the Russians did to him, this was nothing compared to what happened in the war either.

Ben retched a few more times, his body feeling empty and aching, before he slowly lowered himself back into a lying position, his body protesting even more than before.

He could still taste the bile on his tongue and his throat felt even worse than it did before but he decided to ignore that the same way he had ignored everything else. After finally getting himself into a somewhat comfortable position, or as comfortable as possible at least, he relaxed and started to blankly stare at the ceiling once again.

He really hoped he would get over this quickly and that this was a one-time thing, he didn't even want to think about the possibility of him getting sick like this more often. How much time it would take from him, what it would mean for him. He was supposed to be a supe, supes don't get sick so what would-

Swallowing the new bout of bile that rose in his throat as his thoughts started spiraling he closed his eyes, ignoring the fresh tears that started running down his face before he forced himself to fall asleep, to stop thinking about something that would never even happen.

He hoped he would feel better once he woke up, that all of this would be over as quickly as it came. He couldn't afford to stay like this any longer, to be as useless as he was right now. He really needed to get a grip on himself but that could wait for when he woke up.

[tired-teacher-blog]

hi so I don’t want to like impose or anything but could you do like class 1-a is in class (shinso is in the class and is dating y/n) and they are training outside and stuff then when the girls (including y/n) are going to the locker room she like freezes. And then she faints. So like everyone is worried and stuff. And like she’s super weak afterwords. I deal with really bad fainting issues due to dehydration and I’ve been told some not very nice things about myself because of it.

if you don’t have time or don’t feel like doing this it’s okay - 🕷️

Hello my cute little spider 😍 It's never an imposition baby, I'm always happy to provide something comforting and I really had fun working on your request (though as usual it took me forever, I'm really sorry 🥲) one more thing! Don't listen to anyone who tries to put you down, just take care of yourself sweetheart and ignore everything else. You are capable of great things and I believe in you! I'm also here if you ever feel like talking okay?

Title : Nothing less than perfect

Characters : Shinsou/ Fem reader + Class 1A/ Aizawa/ Vlad King

Genre : A bit of angst but mostly fluff/ drabble

Trigger warning : Dehydration symptoms

Masterlist|Second Masterlist

_ "Come on! Move quicker!" Sekijiro's booming voice sent shivers throughout your body as he stared daggers into your soul.

You deserved it— you weren't about to deny that, but the questioning looks your boyfriend and classmates had sent you were more uncomfortable than your teacher's yelling.

_ "Are you okay?" Hitoshi approached you before lightly bumping your shoulder with his.

_ "Ah! yes I'm fine." you lied through your teeth, offering him a little smile afterwards.

Frankly, you hadn't been feeling well at all since morning, and the splitting headache that left you weak and dizzy was the last thing you needed during training.

_ "Your skin is flushed, and you look like you're about to collapse," he knitted his eyebrows in obvious concern, "should I talk to Mr Aizawa or Mr Sekijiro? you need to take a little break."

_ "What? no I'm totally fine I promise." you wiped the sweat off your forehead and slipped away from him to join the girls.

You tried your hardest to remain calm and confident throughout the remainder of the joint training session your class had with Mr Sekijiro's, and you almost let out a cry of relief when your teachers announced the end of the bout.

You walked on wobbly legs aiming to reach the locker room that seemed a lot further than you remember, all the while ignoring Hitoshi's worried looks.

All you wanted was to lay down a little and give in to the pain.

The girls were energetic, chattering about whatever came to mind and trying to include you in a conversation you had no interest in, so offering them fake smiles was all you were capable of at the moment.

You were almost there, almost inside the changing room where you could finally sit down and rest, however..

Your vision started to blur, and your ears started to buzz. It was as if you were drowning, until all your senses ceased to work and your body just shut down..

_ "Y/n, open your eyes please, can you hear me?"

Whose voice was that? It sounded distant.

_ "Please y/n say something!"

A different voice, but distant still.

You felt yourself floating, as if you were being carried by someone. Many voices, familiar but hard to distinguish apart, and all of them were calling your name and begging you to open your eyes, so maybe you should try.

Your lids were heavy, as if glued together, but with a shaky whimper, you could finally do it.

_ "You're up! Are you okay?!" Mina was all over you, crying and shaking your leg.

_ "Give her space, let her breathe." it was Mr Aizawa, shooing everyone away, but they refused to budge before making sure you were alright.

They were worried sick, and their anxious expressions made you feel guilty.

_ "I'm so sorry guys, I didn't mean to scare you, but I'm really okay now." it was hard to speak, and your voice came out hoarse, but at least you managed to ease their nerves.

_ "We're so happy you're feeling better y/n." Izuku responded with a smile.

_ "Alright, now everyone get the hell out of here and let her rest." Mr Aizawa sounded harsher than before and everyone flinched realizing that he was serious.

_ "We'll see you later y/n." Ochaco and Eijiro waved at you enthusiastically before following everyone outside.

It took you a moment to realize that Hitoshi was still there when Mr Aizawa gave him a knowing nod before following the rest of the class and closing the door behind him.

You took in your surroundings, you were at recovery girl's office, but she wasn't there since Mr Aizawa dragged her out with everyone else.

You were left alone with your boyfriend, who was quiet the whole time as he held your hand in his.

_ "Hitoshi.." you started but he stopped you immediately.

_ "We can talk later, just get some rest first." he gently picked up your hand and planted the softest kiss on your warm skin.

Shame and remorse ate at you, not only did you make your friends and teachers worry, but also the person you love.

_ "I'm really fine now Hitoshi," you weren't really, but you needed to explain, to apologize, "I'm suffering from fainting spells caused by dehydration, I'm mostly fine but sometimes it gets tough and I end up passing out. I'm really sorry for hiding something like this from you, and for not taking your advice earlier when you asked me to get some rest.." you wanted to say more, but you were too weak and knew your sobs would prevent you from carrying on.

_ "Why did you hide this from me?" his voice was soft, but he sounded hurt.

_ "Because I was afraid you would think less of me, or leave me.." you were no longer able to hold your tears back as your voice trailed off.

_ "Are you out of your mind?! how could I ever think of you as anything less than perfect! look at you! you're a straight A student, strong, kind, funny, brave beautiful! and I still cannot believe you settled for me," he scratched the back of his head as he uttered the last part, "our friends, they were worried sick, not because they pitied you, but because they love you," he moved to sit by your side on the bed before wiping your tears away, "never doubt yourself, because no one else does."

_ "I love you so much.. I really do.. I'm sorry for what happened but I promise.. I will never keep anything from you anymore." you pulled him impossibly close to you, hiding your face in his chest and crying to your heart's content.

_ "I love you more y/n, and I've always been proud of you, but if possible I'm even prouder now knowing that you've never allowed your struggles to shackle you, you've taught me so much today."

Your tears suddenly stopped as you allowed your boyfriend's words to sink in. He was proud of you, never doubted or thought of leaving you.

You lifted your head and smiled sweetly, "I'm proud of you too Hitoshi, and I'm happy you picked me out of everyone else."

Hearing his shy chuckles and seeing his pink cheeks brought serenity to your soul, you knew you were alright and will always be.

[bluejayblueskies]

for as long as he will let me

Words: 3.2k

Relationship: Jon/Martin

Tags: Post-Canon, Somewhere Else, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Nightmares, PTSD, Crying, Therapy, Healing, Married Jmart

Ao3 link in the source

written for @tmaappreciationweek for the prompt 'somewhere else'! a continuation of it will be this, always but can be read as a standalone. CW for mentions of Jon's past traumas (including non-consensual touching, canon-typical worms, canon-typical flesh content, knife violence, spiders, and claustrophobia), wound/injury analogies, and fear of abandonment.

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Jon is tired. It drags at his eyelids, blurs his vision, makes his hands shake ever so slightly where they turn another page in his book. His wedding ring glints very faintly in the light from the lamp. He used to read without the light, squinting at the moonlit pages and holding the book so close to his face that his nose nearly brushed the paper. But Martin is a heavy sleeper—the kind who needs to set twenty alarms five minutes apart in the mornings to get up and who sleeps deep into the afternoon when given the chance—and he’d given Jon a look as he passed him the paracetamol for his eye strain headache and told him to just use the lamp.

“They say lying down with your eyes closed can be restful, even if you don’t sleep,” Martin said a moment after, in that pointed way he does when he wants Jon to learn to take care of himself but doesn’t want to outright say it.

“I know,” Jon said. He did not say that, if he lay down and closed his eyes, he likely wouldn’t have much trouble falling asleep at all.

He just wouldn’t … stay asleep. Best to avoid that inevitability as long as possible, he’s decided.

Martin has taken to rubbing his thumbs underneath Jon’s eyes when he cradles his face in his hands. Jon knows the dark circles there well, purple-black bruises that look like badly smudged eyeliner and that refuse to budge under even the most tenacious of concealer. Jon wouldn’t bother trying to hide them if it weren’t for the looks he gets from his therapist, who gently asks if Jon has tried whatever exercise he’s devised that week that he thinks will help.

He has. It didn’t. Jon supposes there’s just too much haunting him still to allow him true rest.

He thought it was a blessing, those first few weeks here, in the house they were squatting in when Jon’s back was still split and raw and his relationship with Martin was even more so. The fact that his dreams were his own now. He was still made of eyes in some, but Naomi and Lionel and Georgie and Jordan and Tessa all the others were gone. They were free of him, and he was free of them in kind. It should have been more of a relief than it was. Maybe it would have been if there wasn’t something just as horrible to leak in and fill the gaps.

Now, Jon dreams of cold plastic fingers digging into his skin, carving into him and touching him with clinical precision, smelling of sickly vanilla and cinnamon. He dreams of technicolor corridors that trap him and turn him inside out and stab his flesh with a thousand needle-like appendages, smiling all the while. He dreams of freefall and the sizzle of flesh and the press of earth all around him and worms replacing the marrow of his bones and absolute darkness and ribs passing through unbroken skin and scalpel blades and a pocket knife at his throat, ready to put an end to his jackrabbit-fast pulse.

He dreams the old, familiar dream of black spindly legs dragging him kicking and screaming through a bloodstained door. And he dreams the new dream of a knife finding its home beside his spine, warm lips pressed against his, feeling it all fade away as the taste of salty tears falls upon his tongue.

Jon has grown practiced at crying quietly. He falls asleep after Martin and wakes while it’s still dark, Martin breathing slowly and deeply beside him, his heart in his throat and his breath stuck there as well, shallow and quick. He thinks he should probably be used to it by now, seven years after the first time the traumas in his nightmares became his and his alone.

He isn’t.

His therapist says that’s okay. Which means it probably is and Jon’s just being silly—expecting too much of himself again. But it doesn’t feel okay. It feels…

It feels like he should be grateful, that it’s only him suffering now. Or like he should be numb to it all, used to the same pattern of hands-colors-falling-earth-worms-spiders-knives that comes to him every time he closes his eyes. But it’s like a raw and open wound each time, tearing him apart anew.

Maybe it’s because everything else is nice. His and Martin’s wedding rings clink together when their fingers interlock, nearly four years old and still bringing tears to Jon’s eyes when he thinks about it too hard. Colette is big enough now that Martin makes an oof noise when she clambers up onto his shoulders, purring so loudly that Jon can hear it across the room and tickling Martin’s neck with a tail black as obsidian. He and Martin bicker more often about what show they want to watch and what brand of ice cream they want from the shop than the serious things, and Jon can’t help but think that if that wound has cauterized, why hasn’t this one? Why is he still open and weeping, ragged around the edges, such a far way from healing?

Jon is so very tired.

Eventually, he reaches the point he does every night where he finds himself nodding off against the headboard, book drooping in his hands and words slipping from his mind so he remembers none of them. Reluctantly, Jon slips the piece of scrap paper in to mark his page and sets the book on the nightstand and slips under the covers. Martin makes a small snuffling noise in his sleep when Jon presses against his back, and Jon can’t help but smile.

“Love you,” Jon whispers, lips brushing against the thin cotton of Martin’s t-shirt. And then he lets the exhaustion drag him into the nightmares that await.

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Jon blinks awake to bright sunlight streaming in through the window. He feels groggy and heavy, the corners of his eyes still crusted with sleep and his mouth cottony. He automatically goes to snuggle back against Martin, but belatedly realizes that the bed next to him is empty.

The bed is empty. There is sunlight. His heart isn’t racing and his eyes aren’t stinging with tears and he feels groggy and heavy and rested.

Jon sits up so quickly his head spins, nearly sending him prone once again. He stares at the bedroom door—ajar, letting in more of that light that Jon can’t wrap his mind around and the faint sounds of music and something sizzling in a frying pan. Then, he looks at the clock.

It's nearly noon.

When Jon stumbles into the kitchen, gripping his cane tightly and messy hair tickling the back of his neck, he sees Martin standing in front of the stove, stirring something in a pan and humming softly along with the radio. Jon opens and closes his mouth a few times, not quite sure what he’s attempting to say, but it turns out he doesn’t have to. Martin sees him first, catching him out of the corner of his eye as he turns to grab some pre-cut peppers out of a plastic container.

Martin’s smile is nearly as bright as the sunlight that turns his coppery curls fire-red. “Hey! Good morning.” He crosses the distance between them and presses a chaste kiss to Jon’s lips.

“Good morning,” Jon echoes faintly. It is still technically morning, if only just.

“I’m almost done with lunch,” Martin says, turning back to the stove. He puts the peppers in the pan, along with a handful of mushrooms and carrots. “D’you want some tea? I can put the kettle on.”

“Yes, that … that sounds lovely.” Jon’s voice is hollow, scooped out in the middle. He sits at the kitchen table, and in what seems like the blink of an eye, there’s a mug of tea by his elbow and a bowl of steaming something in front of him, smelling strongly of garlic and ginger.

He takes a sip of the tea, and his hands don’t shake.

The corners of his eyes prickle.

Then, Martin says—quietly, like he knows the gravity of what he’s saying, like he’s just as acutely aware of the oddity of this as Jon is—“Did you sleep well last night?” and Jon … cracks.

It’s the first time he’s cried in so, so long where the tears haven’t been born of terror and hurt and anxiety and frustration. He cries in the same way one cries when they’re so shaken they don’t know what else to do—when the happiness and hope rising with them is so unrecognizable, they can’t help but weep for it. And Martin says, “Oh, Jon,” so softly, and that just makes Jon cry harder.

Jon cries and cries, and Martin moves his chair close and holds Jon to his chest and tucks Jon’s face into the crook of his neck. When the tears have slowed enough to become manageable, Jon says hoarsely, “I—sorry.”

“No, no, please don’t apologize.” Martin squeezes Jon tightly for emphasis. Gingerly, he says, “Are you … all right?”

Jon laughs—a ragged, hiccuping sound. “Yes,” he says, and he means it. “Yes, I’m—I’m … good.”

Martin doesn’t say anything—just rubs slow circles against Jon’s shoulder blades.

After a moment, Jon whispers, “I didn’t dream, Martin.” It feels like too tender a truth to put into words, like speaking it aloud will cause it to crumble and reality will turn sour and he will wake and realize that it’s not true, of course it’s not true, how could it be? This is the life he’s been given and the curse he bears and it’s just how things have shaken out to be, ever since he was eight, or maybe even sooner, when he dreamt of parents who wouldn’t be there to smile at him when he woke and tell him that everything was all right.

“At all?” Martin says just as quietly.

Jon shakes his head. “Just … nothing.” He laughs, just shy of hysterical. “I—I can’t even remember the last time I—that I didn’t—” He cuts off with another laugh, this one more akin to a sob.

“Hey, hey. It’s all right.” Martin strokes his hand through Jon’s hair, scratching gently at Jon’s scalp. Jon melts into the touch, feeling very much like Colette when he scratches underneath her chin. “Do you need anything from me?”

Jon shakes his head. “Just this.” He grips Martin a bit tighter. “Thank you for making br—lunch.” A pause. “And thank you for … for not waking me up. Even though I’ve, er. Definitely missed an interview I had scheduled this morning.”

“I called in. Told them you were feeling sick. You’ve got the rest of the day if you want it.”

Jon is overwhelmed with such a strong wave of affection, it nearly steals his breath away. He pulls back and kisses Martin soundly on the lips. “Thank you,” he murmurs. “I love you.”

Martin kisses him again, a feather-light brush of his mouth against Jon’s. “I love you too.”

Jon does take the day. He eats lunch and takes a walk with Martin because the weather is nice and his back is having one of its better days, and he finds the energy to build that cat tree he’s been meaning to put together for weeks. He does, however, go to his therapy appointment that afternoon, both because he knows Dr. Aronov would be disappointed if he skipped and because this is … probably the sort of thing he should tell him.

Six years of seeing the same therapist has certain benefits—one of which being that, sometime around year three, Jon got fed up with talking in metaphors and, in a rather uninspired bit of blunt frustration that was much more likely to turn out poorly than well, laid the story out in full. The Fears. The apocalypse. Multiple realities. All of it. And either Dr. Aronov took it all in stride and believed him, or he is very good at pretending to humor Jon. Whatever the case, Jon has stopped sugar-coating the things he says and Dr. Aronov never questions his sanity or makes those gentle, not-subtle comments about ‘extra help’ that he’d heard one too many times as a traumatized eight-year-old who didn’t know yet not to trust adults who said they cared. Instead, his therapist treats it all as the truth. It’s a … strange situation. It’s also an incredible relief.

It’s something Jon never thought he would get to have. But he’s been getting more and more of those lately. Jon’s just waiting for the moment it stops feeling like it’s all going to be snatched away again.

He digs his thumb into one of the stress balls Dr. Aronov has in his office and shrugs when Dr. Aronov asks him if there’s anything in particular he would like to talk about today. His therapist has long since learned not to take that at face value, and it only takes ten more minutes to finally coax out of Jon the thing that he does, in fact, want to talk about. The words are sticky in his throat, but he manages to get them out.

Progress, and all that.

Dr. Aronov reacts in the predicted fashion—telling Jon that this is a good thing, an encouraging thing, that he’s happy for Jon. Then, he says with a sympathetic expression, “I imagine this is rather difficult for you, though,” and Jon. Did not expect that.

“Sorry?”

“Well, you’re used to a particular way that things operate. Even though this is something that is, objectively, a good sign, I also imagine that it introduces other anxieties.” Dr. Aronov looks at him, face a blank slate, careful not to influence Jon in one way or the other. “Is that the case? I could be wrong, of course, in which case, I would love to hear more about your thoughts on the matter.”

Jon opens his mouth, then closes it. Considers, again, the irony of the fact that he hates being seen like this, known in a way that he doesn’t expect and that makes him feel very small sometimes. “Why would I be anxious?” he says snappishly.

He knows that Dr. Aronov will immediately identify his tone as defensive, and he’s not proven wrong. Dr. Aronov is ever so patient when he says, “Would you like an answer to that question, or was it rhetorical?”

Jon grits his teeth, then sighs. “Whichever. Answer, I suppose.”

“Do you remember our discussion from last month?”

Dr. Aronov doesn’t elaborate, but he doesn’t need to. Jon knows what discussion he’s talking about. He could have just as easily said ‘remember our discussion from six months ago?’ or ‘remember our discussion from a year ago?’ or ‘remember our discussion from six years ago?’ and Jon still would have known.

It’s the one where Jon admits, again, that even after all this time, after the cat and the marriage and the happiness and the house they’re saving up for and the whispered declarations of love in the mornings, he’s still afraid that it will all fall apart. That Martin will change his mind and decide that he’s happier without Jon’s idiosyncrasies and traumas and annoying habits, actually, and will leave him alone and won’t look back. It’s a fear completely unfounded—he and Martin had had this conversation many, many times before they got to the ‘I dos,’ and Jon knows, logically, that Martin isn’t going anywhere. They made very sure of that before placing rings on each other’s fingers. But it’s still a fear nonetheless.

Jon is so, so afraid that his happiness will fall out from underneath him, slipping away like it was never there at all, like it had always been temporary. And he knows by now that it’s a fear that will be with him always. He just has to learn to live with it.

Jon nods. And he knows what Dr. Aronov is going to say before the words even leave his mouth:

That he’s afraid this isn’t real. That this little bit of peace he’s stumbled upon will leave him tonight, and he’ll have those same nightmares, and he’ll never get to experience that small bit of true rest he’d gotten this morning ever again.

Well. At least it’s a fear he’s intimately familiar with.

And when Jon wakes to a dark bedroom early the next morning, heart racing and back aching where it remembers the bite of the knife like it was yesterday, he curls up on himself and buries his head in his hands and cries until he’s worn out and sore. Then, he slips out of bed, goes to the kitchen, and makes himself some tea.

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A week later, Jon wakes again to sunlight streaming in through the gap in the curtains. He refuses to allow himself to hope.

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A few days later, it happens again. He’s woken by the gentle press of Martin’s hand on his shoulder because Jon refuses to miss any more work just to indulge himself, and he can’t remember a single thing between now and the moment he went to sleep.

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Again, three days after the last.

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Two days in a row, this time. Jon can’t help it; hope begins to cultivate itself deep in his chest. It’s a dangerous thing. Jon lets it grow.

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Five months after that first sunny morning, Jon is sitting on the couch, fresh off a dreamless night of sleep and feeling a little more whole with each one he gets. There is a book balanced on his lap, a mug of tea on the side table to his right, and a small plate with a peach scone on it that Martin hands him before settling on the couch next to him.

Jon takes a bite of the scone—still warm, freshly baked, god, he loves his husband so much it hurts sometimes—and is about to go back to his book when he feels a hand, gentle on his face, turning it toward Martin. Jon goes willingly, giving Martin a soft smile. “Thank you for the scone,” he says, turning his head and pressing a soft kiss to the inside of Martin’s palm.

“Of course,” Martin says. His thumb brushes against the skin underneath Jon’s left eye—a familiar motion, an attempt to brush away the smudgy dark circles that collect under there.

Or, that used to collect under there. Because Martin says then, voice slightly choked, “You look—you look rested, Jon,” and Jon realizes that yes—he hasn’t seen those in his reflection quite so prominently as of late.

He brings a hand up to rub beneath his other eye, as if he can feel the difference. “Do I?”

Martin nods. His eyes shine in the sunlight, a glint of unshed tears. “Yeah. You look…” Martin swallows, smiles, presses a soft kiss to Jon’s forehead, then to each of his eyelids when Jon obligingly closes them. “You look happy,” he murmurs, breath ghosting across Jon’s cheeks as he rests his forehead against Jon’s.

“I am,” Jon whispers, and he doesn’t think he’s ever meant anything more.

Martin kisses him so softly and sweetly on the lips that Jon melts with it. He tastes of peaches and sugar. “Good.”

And, in the warm morning light, with Martin’s hands cupping his cheeks and his breath ghosting across his lips, Jon tentatively allows himself to believe that this happiness might be here to stay.

[mountswhore]

One with mason Please where the reader has headaches , and he doesn't help the situation, shouting in his playroom with his friends . But like he didn’t she has it 😘luv u

ft. the worst mw map in existence, mialstor tank factory

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞’𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞? — mason mount

summary: after a long day at work, the only thing you wanted was to relax, not listen to mason playing COD.

notes: requests are open

Being a personal assistant was the worst decision I've made, you thought to yourself, getting into your car after a long day at work. You'd been on your feet since half past seven in the morning, in and out of meetings, driving around to find suitable lunch for your asshole boss. Mason knew you hated that job with a passion, he'd oftentimes tell you to just quit, but you refused. You wanted to be doing something everyday, not just sitting around.

And after visiting the supermarket for dinner, having to push a trolley down all 25 isles to top up on food, and other household necessities, your head was aching even more. The artificial lighting of the store, the constant till beeps, and children running around, you had gotten into your car and cradled your head, feeling like crying. It felt as if someone was going at your head with an axe, splitting it open like a coconut.

And upon returning home, the frustration you felt had only grown. You'd called Mason almost a million times, but he couldn't hear you. So you'd brought all the shopping in, unpacked it, and sat on the couch in defeat. Luckily, it was a Friday. You had the weekend completely to yourself.

A bath doesn't sound too bad, you thought. So you'd carried yourself upstairs, turned on the taps, and waited in your room. Apart from the taps, you could hear laughing. An obnoxious laugh, that would get on your nerves even if you didn't have a headache. As slight scream to the laugh, as if the person were being chased. You tutted, grabbing your phone to text Mason.

Can you keep it down? I have a horrible headache.

You saw the 'delivered' sign underneath your message, you even heard his phone ping, and yet he continued to scream and laugh. No doubt with his friends.

Your bath was done, you were now almost fully submerged into the water, resting your head on a rolled up towel. Just like at the spa. There was a few moments of peace, and it was divine. Until you heard a loud groan and a slam of what sounded like his fist onto the desk.

"We always get this map," you heard him shout, anger in his tone, "they're always camping the hallway. You can never get past." You felt like drumming your head against the cold, ceramic of the tub, anything would feel better than this headache right now. And you knew it would only get worse, seeing as Mason was playing on a terrible map.

"God, I hate this fucking map!"

"They've got two snipers laying on the fucking floor!"

"If we don't get Hackney Yard after this, I'm done."

It seemed as if everything he said, was 10x louder than usual. Like he was screaming everything on purpose. It was driving you to the edge. And just as you heard another shriek from him, you groaned and got out of the bath, wrapping a robe around you.

Deciding to be petty, you'd ordered food without him. Not just any food, but his favourite Chinese restaurant. And he could smell it from his games room as you'd brought it in, putting some into your bowl and hiding the leftovers in the fridge. He had put his controller down, taking his headset off to follow the smell, wanting to thank you for reading his mind and ordering.

But you were sat in the middle of the couch, scooping chow mein into your mouth, a smug look on your face. His heart dropped, his bowl was not waiting on the coffee table like it usually was. Just yours, in your hands. You were teasing him with your food, and it made it worse that he was absolutely starving.

"Where's mine?"

"Still at the restaurant, because you haven't ordered any." You replied, barely giving him a glance.

He just huffed and sat next to you, side glancing your food and wanting to just poke his finger in and grab something. You were half focused on your food, and half focused on Netflix, not paying any mind to your sulking boyfriend, who's arms were folded and lips pouted.

It wasn't long before he finally broke, lacing his fingers together and looking at you with desperation. "What have I done, Y/N? Please, I'll do anything to fix it."

You sighed, placing your bowl onto the coffee table and resting your head onto the soft couch behind you. "You're just very loud. I've had a horrible day, a long day, and you screaming over tank factory has made my headache worse."

"I'm sorry, truly. Wait. How'd you know it was tank factory?"

"You're always complaining about that fucking map," you groaned, accepting the hug he was holding his arms out for, "you're forgiven, but please keep me in mind next time." You spoke softly, not to trigger your headache that had just died down with the painkillers you'd taken. "And your Chinese is in the fridge, behind the potatoes."

[inkykeiji]

beautiful when the damage is done

part one | part two

characters: todoroki touya | dabi, todoroki natsuo

genre: smut laced with angst and a pinch of fluff

notes: part two of getting naughty with natsuo!! please please heed the warnings!! | title cred: sick thoughts by lewis blissett

warnings: 18+ minors dni, dubcon/noncon, sadism, punishment via overstimulation, pseudo-incest (stepcest), vaguely implied incest, emotional manipulation, a hint of degradation, toxic relationships, poly relationship, dom/sub dynamics, a LOT of crying (dacryphilia), slight size kink/size difference, rough sex

words: 4.6k

synopsis:

And you’re both reminded of how privileged you are, being the only two who ever get to witness this side of him, the only two who are fortunate enough to see the person he might’ve been if you stripped away years upon years of trauma and abuse, the person he truly is at the core of his soul, the person he was born as before he was forced to layer himself with thick, protective walls of aggression coated in indifference—and the person who he becomes as he sheds that armor, in the middle of the night when it’s just the three of you, the whole world having fallen away outside the bedroom door.

It’s musty, air thick with the haze of sweat and sex, saturated the smell of tears and cum, so potent you swear you can almost see it in the atmosphere of Touya’s room. Uncontrollable quivers course through your entire body, never-ending chills erupting across bare, damp skin that shines every time it catches in the dim beams coming from Touya’s desk lamp.

Your scalp is still sore from where Touya yanked you off of Natsuo—back in the living room, how many hours ago? It feels as though it’s been forever since then, memory murky and swimming as you try to think—one strong hand wrapped in your hair jerking you up with such force you nearly stumbled. The pain is dull, a throbbing ache that radiates fading waves of hurt along your skull.

It’s constant, though, brewing a headache that is equal parts agony and dehydration, and you wish to rub at the spot, to place your palm over it in a futile attempt to soothe the discomfort at least a little, but you can’t.

Because it feels as if your blood has been replaced with sand, dense and heavy as it clogs your veins, weighing your arms down and keeping them firmly locked around Natsuo’s neck, steadying you in his lap.

But the ache in your scalp is nothing compared to the burn between your legs.

You can feel it, your third orgasm, churning in the depths of your stomach as it builds, a blistering warmth furling into a tight, concentrated ball of fire. It’s almost sickening, now, the heat roiling inside of you as heavy as lead, wracking destruction on your body as tender muscles, already quaking from exhaustion, begin to tense once more, to coil and wind up the way a lithe tiger does right before it strikes.

“Nat-Natsuo, I can’t,” the words wobble as they spill from between clattering teeth, you head shaking sluggishly as fresh tears sting your eyes.

“Yes, you can,” he murmurs softly to you, gentler than he’s ever been before but refusing to slow his movements as he bounces you on his cock, concerned stone eyes searching your face while his fingers flex on your hips, readjusting their grip on the slippery skin.

“You better,” Touya spits from his place on his bed, peering down at the two of you with something akin to disgust, to derision, saturating his features. And it stings, blazing sapphire searing his glare into your skin much like how he had carved his name into you, years ago.

A wet sob hitches in time with Natsuo’s rough thrusts, has you choking on it, concentrated with thick saliva that sticks in your throat and forces your breaths to escape in wheezes, hands clasping tighter behind Natsuo’s neck.

Yet, despite the pain, there are still sparks of pleasure that accompany each catch of your puffy clit on Natsuo’s slick skin, flickers of lust interspersed with those excruciating spikes that shoot through your abdomen.

It hits suddenly, that third orgasm—you’re halfway through your punishment now, Touya reminds you—has your tightly shut eyelids springing open with a gasp, entire body freezing up in Natsuo’s strong grasp, a grunt falling from his chapped lips as he drives his hips to piston into your rigid body.

He follows only a few moments later with a deep groan that rumbles in his chest, body vibrating with the force of it as his thick cock throbs, filling your little cunt with spurt after spurt of cum that feels almost cool in comparison to your scalding insides.

Touya allows half hour breaks between each orgasm—a short refraction period for you and Natsuo to regain infinitesimal amounts of strength—and not a second more, he had spit after the second orgasm, cutting off your plea for just a few more moments of rest, because this is plenty of time, more than you need, really and you should be grateful he’s so generous.

By the time you’re due for your fourth orgasm, you can barely move, and Natsuo doesn’t have the arm strength to hold you up anymore, to force your hips to keep gyrating or to bounce you on his cock, his entire upper half spent.

“Lay her on the floor, then,” Touya instructs coldly, voice firm and void of any compassion, though it’s hard to miss the sadistic glint in his eyes, hard to ignore the way the corners of his lips quirk up in an ill-concealed smile.

The look Natsuo gives him is almost heartbreaking, a puppy looking up at its owner with its tail tucked between its legs, eyebrows knitted together so tightly they crease his forehead, a deep frown—no, pout—etched into his face as he gazes at his big brother, glazed stone eyes pleading.

“Nii-san, can’t we use—”

“No,” Touya cuts him off harshly, sapphire eyes flashing, and Natsuo flinches. “You’re fucking her on the Goddamn floor for all five—it’s part of your punishment,”

Natuso doesn’t argue, but his lips twitch, and his eyes blur, and his nose sniffles, and he gives his brother a curt little nod of understanding, head bowed in submission.

The hardwood is cold against your heated skin, and you exhale a hiss through gritted teeth as Natsuo positions you as gently as he can, one large palm cradling your head, the other positioned on your back, slight tremors running through his exhausted muscles as he reclines you.

A wrecked little whine pries its way past your lips as Natsuo pushes in again, face scrunching up as sharp, needle-like pinpricks shoot through your gut, your raw, sensitive cunt stinging as Natsuo’s cock reopens previous sutures, skin split further, wounds dug deeper.

The sound your skin makes as it scrapes against the hardwood from Natsuo’s clumsy bucks has all three of you cringing, a piercing squeal that only adds to the symphony of your sobs and Natsuo’s grunts, flesh inflamed and chaffed from being repeated rubbed against the surface.

It’s getting harder and harder for you to cum, even with the generous breaks Touya allows, sparks of pleasure faded to mere cinders now, each shallow drag of Natsuo’s cock causing both of your bodies to recoil, and it’s too much, too much.

“Please, nii-chan,” you beg in a tiny whimper, teary eyes flying to Touya’s face, partially shrouded in shadows as glowing sapphire gazes down at you in scrutiny. “S’enough now,”

“We’ve learned our lesson, p-promise,” Natsuo adds, nodding frenetically.

“P-Pinky promise, nii-chan, please, stop,”

Touya scoffs. “You wanted to cum, didn’t you?” he pauses, cobalt eyes darting between your faces, an eyebrow raising in question. “Well, now I’m allowing you to. Now you have my permission; the permission you knew you needed so bad, but refused to request,”

And it’s then that it dawns on each of you that he had heard the both of you, had heard the entire fucking conversation, while he was doing his work in the kitchen.

How could either of you thought that he wouldn’t? How could either of you been so fucking stupid? Nii-san knows everything—nii-san always knows everything.

“Please, please, we’re sorry, nii-san, we’re sorry,”

“We won’t ever do it again!”

The laugh that claws its way up Touya’s throat is soaked with ridicule, and he shakes his head, a gleeful little grin present on his lips, as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing, as if it’s so ludicrous it’s funny.

“Wait, wait, wait—let me get this straight…you two wanted it so bad, and now you have the balls to complain when nii-chan complies?”

His voice is painfully apathetic, almost nonchalant in a way, as if it makes no difference to him even though it so clearly does, or you and Natsuo wouldn’t be shivering messes of tangled limbs on the floor.

Excuses begin tumbling from two pairs of lips, words stuttered and choked on and sandwiched between pleads and apologies, jumbling together in a mess of garbled, wet, desperate sounds.

“Enough,” Touya growls, and both voices cut off in an instant. “I don’t want to fucking hear it anymore! Keep acting like ungrateful little brats and I’ll make this punishment longer, I swear to God,”

But you can’t halt the words bubbling up past your lips, regardless of Touya’s threat, regardless of the fact that you know he’s deadly serious. They’re compulsive, automatic, almost instinctual in nature as you seek out comfort, hunt for solace and fragments of relief in the hulking man blanketing you.

“I-I don’t wanna anymore, Natsuo,” you’re weeping into his chest, hot tears leaking from the corners of tightly shut eyes, streaming down the sides of your head and into your hair. “I don’t wanna,”

“I know, baby, I know,” Natsuo murmurs, though his bottom lip is beginning to tremble.

“Make him stop, Natsuo, make nii-chan stop,”

“I can’t,” his voice breaks on the word, facial features saturated in concern, in fear, wincing as if it physically pains him to deny you. “You know I would if I could,” he nearly whimpers, and his eyes search yours almost frantically, as if he’s begging you to understand. “But I can’t,”

But your head is shaking as you wail louder, fingers weakly curling against his skin, nails pressing into the flesh of his shoulders and clinging to him.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Natsuo’s saying, the words cracking in his throat, voice hoarse. He pauses, clearing it twice, eyes closing briefly as he sighs out a slow, deep, stammering breath, gathering his strength. “One more after this, princess,” he begins as his hips start to speed up their rutting, procuring a yelp from you. “That’s it, jus’ one more after this one. C’mon, we can do it,”

“No, no, no,” you chant as pretty, gleaming tears roll down your face. And you can see it, the potent guilt swirling in his gunmetal eyes, from the way his pupils expand as they focus on the salt water sullying your cheeks, from the way his cock twitches despite it all. “I don’wanna, I don’wanna, stop, Natsuo, stop,”

His motions pause immediately, the moment the word falls from your lips, but he starts up just as quickly as Touya dictates from his spot on the mattress above.

“Stop, and I’ll add another two,” he promises, ruthless and unforgiving. Chills skitter along your glistening skin, erupting across your damp body at his tone. Both of you know he isn’t bluffing, that he’ll add as many orgasms as he wants to, and that he’ll continue to pull them from your fatigued and worn-out bodies one way or another, even if he has to do it completely by himself.

“Focus on me,” Natsuo instructs gently, though there’s a sense of urgency in his voice, a frenzied need to calm you down before Touya loses his patience completely. “I’ll take care of it, okay? Just focus on me, look at me,”

So you do, blinking the bleariness from your gaze as you direct all of your attention to him. And although there’s that ever-present guilt still swimming in his irises, in his unshed tears, there’s also love in his stare, so much love it’s nearly overflowing, overpowering the remorse and instilling a deep sense of comfort in your stammering chest.

Because at least you’re not alone in this; at least you have each other—each other to find comfort in, to cry and whine and beg with, to protect.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he’s whispering over your wails like a broken mantra, those tears that have been glazing his eyes, that have been collecting behind his lashline, finally beginning to fall.

His hips speed up, as fast as he possibly can as he gathers every last ounce of power and manages to wring another one out of you, another one out of himself, sore cunt clenching painfully around him, your fourth orgasm feeling as if it’s been punched out of you, despite the fact that Natsuo’s thrusts have been shallow.

And by the time your fifth orgasm rolls around, you’re nothing more than Jell-o in the shape of a human, though Natsuo’s not much better, barely able to move other than the uneven rutting of his hips, a crushing deadweight on top of you as his weary hips give pitiful little thrusts, pubic bone dragging across your hypersensitive clit, every tug against it ripping another ragged cry from your throat.

But you’re having trouble, both of you struggling to do anything other than feebly hump against each other, unable to secure enough strength to pump—to milk—that final orgasm out of yourselves, sniveling little protests punctuated by wrecked sobs leaking from your mouths.

Touya’s pissed—beyond pissed—sharp jaw clenching while seething insults burn his tongue and slice your skin, berating the both of you for being so fucking weak, so fucking pathetic, because he’s forced more orgasms out of the both of you before, so why is this so fucking difficult?

Touya’s too stubborn, and he refuses to end the punishment early irrespective of the fact that you’re both entirely drained, reminding you in a callous voice that you each must cum five times before it’s over while he aggressively roots through one of his desk drawers, snickering to himself when he finds what he’s looking for, hooking his index finger in it and pulling it out.

And the look on his face when he turns back to face you and Natsuo is positively petrifying, idly swinging the cockring around on his finger as his head tilts slightly, observing the both of you with that sharp smile you’ve come to know so well on his lips, eyes glittering with pure delight, features lit up with his own personal brand of sadistic excitement.

Natsuo starts to say something, voice forming around a word that sounds suspiciously similar to no, but he catches himself before it fully leaves his mouth, pressing quivering lips together tightly as he stares up at his brother with wet eyes.

Touya chuckles, raising an eyebrow with that trademark lopsided smirk, as if he’s challenging Natsuo to dispute him, to resist.

He doesn’t, of course, because he never would, but he does finally allow full shuddery sobs to escape his chest, Touya’s condescending shh’s and hush, now’s doing nothing to calm them as he slides the cockring on.

Natsuo nearly howls when Touya turns the tiny, pretty pink device on, his entire body jerking with that initial vibration.

“The faster you cum, the faster I’ll take it off,” Touya says calmly over the stifled little shrieks Natsuo’s continulously trying to swallow back down, nodding his understanding as he repositions himself between your thighs, holding his vibrating cock in one massive palm as he guides himself back into you.

And you want to tell him no!, don’t!, stop!, you want to shove him off, to kick and scream and beg and cry, but your heavy head sluggishly lolling from side to side seems to be all you can manage, words snagging in your throat, nothing more than incoherent babbling leaving your lips.

Because you can barely speak, barely think, barely breathe, vision fading in and out of focus as Natsuo rocks stuttering hips against yours, warm salt water rolling down the bridge of his nose, dripping onto your cheeks and mixing with yours. You’re both more each other, more one than two separate entities now, spit and cum and tears so interspersed you can’t tell which belongs to who anymore, limbs and fluids, thoughts and sounds, endlessly flowing into one another.

“Tell her to behave, Natsuo,” Touya barks, though there’s twisted amusement dancing in his eyes as he observes. “Tell her to finish the fucking punishment,”

And Natsuo, ever the perfectly trained pet, does as he says immediately.

“We can—We can do it,” Natsuo keens from above you, full body shudders wracking his hulking form, alabaster hair clinging to his forehead in uneven clumps, drenched in sweat as he forces words through his own bawling, hips grinding into yours. “We can do it, let’s be good for nii-san, yeah? L-Let’s make nii-san proud—c’mon, you wanna make him proud, don’t you?”

You do—of course you do. You never want anything else. But…But you’re not entirely sure you can, hiccupped sobs peppering your slurred words. Unconsciousness tugs at the edges of your hazy mind, whispers enticing promises of repose and relaxation as weighted eyelids begin to sag.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Natsuo cuts you off gently, shaky knuckles brushing against your cheek in a poor imitation of a caress. “I’ll do it, baby, I’ll do it,”

You don’t even remember cumming a fifth time, only a feeling of hot coals smoldering in the pit of your stomach, but you must have, because then Touya’s hooking his arms under Natsuo’s and dragging him off of you, propping him up against the side of the bed and kneeling as lithe fingers remove the toy from his cock.

And the sense of relief that seeps into your body and floods your veins is so intense it almost feels like a rush of adrenaline instead. You did it. You both did it. Finally, it is over.

Or so you and Natsuo thought.

—

Spikes of fear piece through his heart as Natsuo blearily watches Touya gather your limp body in his arms, hauling you up with a soft grunt.

And it’s astounding, the way you still curl into him, still seek that familiarity, that solace, in his chest, mumbled out honorific padded by hitched half-sobs as you cling to him. It’s astounding, because even after all he’s done to you, after everything he just put the two of you through, you will crawl back to him each and every time, over shards of glass on your hands and knees with his name on your lips—his name in devotion, in submission, in love—without a single question asked.

And Natsuo realizes that he would, too.

The thought inspires a bittersweet taste to settle on his tongue, like sticky toffee and black coffee, alien feelings swirling in his chest, clashes of consoling blooms of warmth and spiky shards of ice.

But Natsuo doesn’t have time to meditate on his newfound emotions, your faint pleas recapturing his attention.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Touya murmurs, large hands repositioning you.

And he really does sound sorry, even though Natsuo knows he isn’t.

“Wh-What are you…”

“It isn’t over yet,” Touya says simply, though the smile stretched taut across his face is severe, terrifying, azure eyes sparkling in merciless amusement at the horror that shows on Natsuo’s face when he realizes, eyes widening as they fill with thick tears again, bottom lip jutting out into an involuntary pout as panic surges through his veins.

His heart palpitates violently against his ribcage, tongue turned to cotton as worry signs itself in the creases of his forehead.

“Nii-san,” Natsuo begins cautiously, trying in vain to keep his voice steady. “I don’t think—I-I mean, is that really necessary?”

“Of course it is,” his big brother responds without looking at him, preoccupied with folding your lifeless limbs up, knees bent and pressed to your chest.

“Why?” the word slips out without Natsuo’s permission, grey eyes widening in shock as he swallows thickly, shaking his head a little as if to say I didn’t mean to!, though Touya doesn’t seem to mind.

“Because the overstimulation was her punishment,” Touya glances over at him, the amusement dancing in his eyes turned vicious as his smile stretches wider—so wide Natsuo’s surprised it doesn’t split his face clean in two—cruel and brutal. “This is yours,”

Natsuo isn’t quite sure he understands, brain doused in a thick fog and having difficulty grasping the concept, the knowledge of what his nii-san truly means turning to dense, ashy smoke any time he tries to grasp it, metaphorically slipping through his fingers.

But then you’re speaking again, and Natsuo’s head whips towards you, chest tightening at how completely wrecked you sound.

“No, please, no more,” the words gurgle in your throat, escaping as nothing more but jumbled, spit-soaked whines that have Touya chuckling as he shoves his cock into your aching little hole.

“You’re in no position to be making demands, princess,” he speaks through a patronizing pout, a mockery of your own expression, voice syrupy and supercilious. “If you weren’t such a needy little whore always desperate for a hard cock to grind on, this wouldn’t be happening,”

The words are spit in the same demeaning tone Touya had been using earlier, the same demeaning tone he always uses, and Natsuo’s powerless to stop the words flowing from his mouth.

“It’s not your fault, sweetheart,” he reassures you, though his voice cracks under the emotion, words wavering as his chin trembles.

“You’re right,” Touya muses, slight breathlessness the only indication that he’s railing the absolute life out of you. “It’s yours,”

And suddenly, Natsuo understands what nii-san had meant when he said this was his punishment.  

Because he’s right.

It’s got to be the harshest punishment Touya’s ever bestowed on him.

Because it’s hard to watch the way your lax, abused body is forced to just take it, Touya’s thrusts so rough they jostle you up the mattress; even harder to hear as you bawl and beg and scream, and Natsuo’s nose twitches as the threat of new tears climbs up his throat, lodging in the column as he fights against them.

He feels sick, like some sort of depraved pervert, for the weak twitches his cock gives, for the faint embers that flicker in the pit of his stomach, igniting a dull blaze as he watches, almost entranced by the grotesque situation unfolding in front of him. He feels sicker, knowing that both of those would be stronger, much stronger, had Touya not forced him to fuck his entire soul into you.

And Touya—Well, Touya’s been hard from it all—high from it all—the whole time, and Natsuo can almost see the sheer power flowing through his veins, an aura that envelopes him, that radiates off of him in intoxicating waves, that licks at his skin like flames of blue fire. Natsuo bets—no, knows— it’s better than any drug Touya’s ever taken.

Protests marinate on his tongue, bitter and acidic, pleads of stop and enough scraping against the walls of his throat as he forcefully swallows them back down, emitting pathetic little whimpers in their place.

Because he knows if he starts, Touya will only make it worse for you, so he suffers in silence, readily agreeing with Touya every time he reminds Natsuo that this is all his fault and neither of you would be in pain if Natsuo could’ve just kept it in his fucking pants for a few minutes longer.

It hurts, because it’s true, nii-san’s words sending thick, piercing stakes spearing through Natsuo’s heart, through Natsuo’s very soul, straight to the core of his body. Acrid bile climbs up his throat as Touya’s moans mingle with your sobs, so exhausted that they’re barely more than little wheezes at this point. It’s abundantly clear that Touya doesn’t feel a shred of remorse, and that makes Natsuo feel even worse—if only he had said no, if only he had waited and asked, if only he had been stronger, you wouldn’t be suffering.

The tears collecting in the column of his throat sprout talons and claw their way up, past his steadily weaking resolve, prying their way through his lips in the form of jagged sobs.  

It’s magnificent, really, the way Touya can render Natsuo a snotty, shivering mess with only a few choice words. And Natsuo—Natsuo only ever cries in front of his big brother, only ever cries for his big brother, full-on weeping that slashes through his sputtering chest, coughing around and choking on his own sobs of nii-san, I’m sorry!

But it ends eventually, finally, Touya tearing one last orgasm from you, gentle words contradicting his cruel, ruthless actions, murmurs of come on baby, just one more, one more for nii-chan. You can do this for nii-chan, can’t you? You can be a good little girl for me and cum one more time, right? lingering on his lips

And somehow, you find the strength to obey, to be his good baby, because you always do, entire body convulsing with a raspy shriek of the honorific, Touya praising you only moments later as his hips still and his cock pumps you full.

—

It’s cute, really, how fucked out the two of you are. Touya thinks you’re both so beautiful when you’re like this, with glassy eyes and tearstained cheeks, lashes clumped together with residual water and swollen faces stained with streaks of salt, all dazed and fucked and stupid for him, from him.

Natsuo’s doing better than you are, of course—Natsuo wasn’t subjected to being fucked again. But Natsuo still needs to rest, Touya softly tutting his tongue with a disapproving shake of his head as Natsuo attempts to aid him with your aftercare, movements clumsy as he stumbles to his feet, inept and awkward as he blunders towards you.

“No,” Touya’s large hands wrap around his younger brother’s shoulders, halting him, steadying him, forcing Natsuo to look at him. “You rest,” he instructs sternly, guiding Natsuo back to his previous spot and delicately depositing him onto the desk chair. “I’ll get to you in a minute, okay, Natsuo-kun?”

Natsuo hums out an affirmation, eyes closing briefly as Touya’s fingertips affectionately trace the curve of his cheek, palm patting it once.

It’s in moments such as these, nights after hours and hours of extreme punishment, that Touya automatically, perhaps unknowingly, slips into Big Brother mode, and you’re reminded of the age gap between them.

Because even though Natsuo’s bigger than Touya, taller than Touya, beefier than Touya, he looks so tiny under his older brother’s protective gaze.

You both must reek terribly, covered in drool and sweat and cum, must look like hot messes, strands of tangled hair saturated with salt and sticking to your cheeks, but your Touya-nii is still right there regardless, whispering the sweetest affirmations and the tenderest praises to the both of you as he wipes each of you down with a damp cloth infused with lavender, telling the both of you how good you did, how proud you made nii-san, how pretty both of you are.

Nimble fingers spend a decent amount of time rubbing soothing circles of moisturizing cream into each of you, your most sensitive skin rubbed raw, aching and puffy from such intense maltreatment, before Touya-nii dresses each of you in his softest, comfiest clothes, steady stream of pure, unadulterated love never stopping as it pours from his lips.

And you’re both reminded of how privileged you are, being the only two who ever get to witness this side of him, the only two who are fortunate enough to see the person he might’ve been if you stripped away years upon years of trauma and abuse, the person he truly is at the core of his soul, the person he was born as before he was forced to layer himself with thick, protective walls of aggression coated in indifference—and the person who he becomes as he sheds that armor, in the middle of the night when it’s just the three of you, the whole world having fallen away outside the bedroom door.

You’re all each other need, after all; because he loves you both more than he could ever put into words—and you each love him back just the same—and that will always be more than enough.

Touya reaches across your body, arm a pleasant, heavy weight as it rests on you, and runs slender fingers through Natsuo’s sweaty hair as you snuggle into your nii-chan’s chest, and Natsuo nearly mewls, nuzzling into his nii-san’s touch as Touya instructs the both of you to sleep, now, a film playing softly in the background as the three of you drift into unconsciousness together.

[stjarnaloki]

tom comfort fluff

hi loves, this is a snippet of a longer Tom H. x OFC work that I wrote a few months ago and decided I didn't like it (typical) but I've always liked this period comfort section of it! i get really gnarly periods so this is entirely self-indulgent but I love fluff like this. also his hands are so big they'd make the best heating pads.

tw: periods, blood

words: 1600

On this particular Thursday afternoon, Mo had been on her feet for nearly ten hours already. It was 4 pm, but an early morning shoot had called her and the crew to a shooting location at sunrise. She felt on the verge of passing out. The California heat had left her drenched in sweat before noon, and she’d only had time to eat a protein bar since the morning break.. And the icing on the cake? Blood.

Mo was used to having to deal with the monthly backaches and stabbing pain in her lower belly. She’d been doing it for years, so was every other person with a uterus. But her lack of food today had left her with nausea and a splitting headache to top it all off. Mo wanted to cry and sink down onto the dusty mountainside. But she simply breathed in through her teeth and clenched the camera as another cramp tightened its grip on her midsection.

Finally, the director called five. Mo rushed over to her backpack sitting on the ground near the trailers and grabbed a bottle of ibuprofen out of the pocket, swallowing three dry. She plopped down on the nearest rock and wrapped her legs to her chest. Closing her eyes, she rested her forehead on her knees and begged her body to keep going until the wrap. Then she could get food, something greasy and cheap, take a hot bath, and knock out in the hotel room with two melatonin by 9 pm.

“Are you alright?” A voice pulled Mo out of her daydreams of a huge cheeseburger.

She unfolded herself out of the ball and looked up into the kind face of Tom standing over her.

“Honestly, I feel like fucking ass today,” she laughed with a grim smile. “Did I miss the call?” she rose and stretched. She felt Tom’s eyes graze over her exposed stomach for a split second and flushed.

“Oh, Mo, I’m sorry,” he said, brows knitting together in concern. “You should go back to the hotel early, I really think we’re almost done here.”

“Oh no no no, I’m fine,” Mo said, regretting her brutal honesty. She hadn’t expected Tom to care. She clapped her hands together. “Really, I’ll survive! Don’t look at me like that.”

“You’re pale.” He looked at her severely. She felt naked under his gaze, like he knew what was wrong and exactly what she needed. He turned on his heel and opened the nearest trailer. He emerged with a cold plastic water bottle and handed it to her.

“Please drink this and go back to the hotel, I’m serious,” he said with a gentle force that made Mo want to melt into his body. Then he did something Mo couldn’t chalk up to English decency. His fingers were brushing a piece of Mo’s curly hair back behind her ear. They lingered slightly, just slightly, on her jaw, then they flitted away, his piercing blue eyes still locked on hers.

Then he was walking away and Mo was climbing into a black SUV, whisked away back towards the city.

As she looked out the window, she thought about the way his fingers said more than words ever could. This couldn’t be ignored anymore.

Later that evening, Mo lay with damp hair fast asleep on the hotel bed, wrapped in the fluffy white robe. A knock on the door woke her with a start.

“Mo, it’s Tom.” called out the voice on the other side.

“Motherfucker.” Mo said under her breath. She had hit her foot on the bedside table.

“One sec!” she called back.

She retied the robe so it was higher up around her neck and answered the door, painfully aware of her boldness.

“Hi, Tom,” she said.

He didn’t come in at once. His eyes flitted down her body as Tom realized her choice of dress. The blue eyes quickly raised themselves to her face again.

“I come bearing gifts. Can I come in?” His voice was lower, slightly huskier from the fatigue of the day. “I know you weren’t feeling well today and today was a bitch.” He smiled sheepishly and help up two white bags from a burger restaurant, circles of grease on the bag.

“Oh, wow. You didn’t have to do that!” Mo exclaimed, stepping aside so the tall man could dip his head into the room. “Fuck, those smell delicious.” she added. How did he read her mind?

“These will change your life.” Tom towered over the tiny hotel kitchenette and was dipping his hand into the bags, pulling out two huge piles of fries. He wore a brown long sleeve shirt, rolled up to three quarter sleeves and tucked into smart corduroy pants that clung to his…shit. He caught Mo staring, but she quickly recovered.

“Is this considered sweats in Oxford?” Mo was laughing.

Tom didn’t say anything, he just smirked. She suddenly became more aware of the robe tie, the only thing between her naked body and Tom right now.

“Let me go change, I’m sorry I just got out of the shower when you knocked.” Mo grabbed a t-shirt and drawstring shorts from the dresser and went into the bathroom, leaving the door cracked just slightly. She knew a sliver of the mirror was visible to those outside as she let the robe fall to the ground. She felt like shit but Christ, this time of the month made her insatiably horny.

She emerged from the bathroom to find Tom leaned against the edge of the bed, arms crossed over his chest, like he was posing for Vogue.

“Let’s dig in?” he asked expectantly.

Mo paused, suddenly shy.

“Look, Tom, it’s so sweet of you to bring me food. But I’m sure you have places to be, I don’t want to make you feel like you have to stay.”

“You think I brought four burgers for you to eat all by yourself, did you?” Tom deadpanned. “I like you, darling, but not four burgers’ worth.” he replied. “Yet,” he continued with a wink.

Mo felt her heart rise in her chest, thumping against her ribcage. Was he fucking serious?

“Well, fuck, alright then” She perched on the other edge of the bed, hands held out expectantly.

An hour later, the pair lay back on the fluffy pillows, fat, sleepy, and happy. Burger wrappers littered the floor. Mo was surprised how interested Tom seemed in photography, or at least impressed at how good he was at faking it.

“I can see it in their eyes, you know?” she was saying, thoughtfully. “They just forget the rest of the world exists, and I get to capture that moment for them.”

A peaceful silence fell over the pair for a second.

Tom broke the silence.

“Do you want to watch a movie tonight?” He looked at her and Mo could tell he didn’t want to leave. He looked...lonely.

“That sounds really nice,” she replied after a pause. “I can’t promise I’ll stay awake though.”

“Oh, me neither.” He looked significantly happier as he kicked off his loafers and extended his long legs on the bed. He patted the bed next to him and tossed Mo the remote. “You pick, darling. Pressure’s on. I have incredibly high standards.”

Shanghai Noon was halfway through when Mo started to shift uncomfortably. The ibuprofen had worn off and her abdomen was cramping again with a vengeance. The dehydration of the day hadn’t helped, either.

All she really wanted to do was go to bed, but Tom was so interested in the movie she had picked she wasn’t about to kick him out with an hour left.

Unknown to Mo, Tom had noticed her clutching her knees closer to her chest.

“It hurts, doesn’t it?” he whispered knowingly. Too much of a gentleman to say the word, but not so naive to not know.

Mo exhaled loudly in a laugh. “You’ve had a lot of girlfriends haven’t you?” rubbing her tired eyes with outstretched palms.

“Maybe I’m just perceptive.” He replied. His blue eyes sparkled in the dark, steady and piercing.

“You’re a badass for getting through today, you know that. We were out there for, fuck, what, 16 hours?”

Mo leaned her head back against the pillow, eyes half-shut in pain and fatigue, but a smile on her face.

“I’m used to it,” she said, her voice gravelly.

He hadn’t touched her yet. No moving his hand closer to hers on the bed, no arm around her shoulders. But at that moment, he inched slightly closer to where Mo was curled up.

“Is it alright if I touch you?” He said it in a feather-light voice.

Mo nodded and melted into his broad shoulder. The man knew exactly what to do. His arm snaked around her side, coming to rest on her low belly. She sighed in relief, realizing his long fingers could nearly span the width of her stomach. Pure, comforting warmth radiated from his palm. She could feel her muscles unwinding themselves as Tom slowly applied gentle pressure to her pain. A small noise of relief escaped her lips.

“Shh, darling, it’s alright,” Tom said in a husky voice. He slid down lower on to the bed. “Is this helping?”

She rolled into him so she was lying on his chest, one arm splayed across his breast.

“More than you know,” she moaned, muffled by his shirt. His cologne smelled spicy, delicious, expensive.

He gently squeezed and rubbed his palm into her uterus a few more times. After a while he shifted so his body encompassed Mo in a spoon. His other arm came up and fingered the curls in her hair.

She took a deep breath at last, not realizing she had been holding it in. The warmth of Tom’s palm easing her pain, his deep, woody scent, and his hand in her hair melted together in a blur of bliss and soon Mo was fast asleep.

[justbreakonme]

Keep It Down

He was woken up by someone scooping him up, and felt himself slung across someone’s shoulders.

Too exhausted to even open his eyes still, he just listened. “-all set up, get you some more water and proper food if you can keep it down.”

Keep it down…

He knew what that meant. If he could stay quiet, shut up and behave, he could have water. Food.

He could do that.

He could hear a door open and shut, and everything was is so blissfully cool… It had been so hot, and being without water always made the suffocating heat so much worse.

It was quiet now, barely a hum that he registers as likely the air conditioning, and the heavy footsteps of the person carrying him.

He found himself drifting off again, until he was laid down somewhere low and soft. The floor level, but it didn’t feel like floor? It was soft, but firm, and after a moment of puzzling, he decided it wasn’t really important enough to keep giving himself such a splitting headache.

“Alright.” they sighed, “I don’t really think food-food is gonna be an option, so we might be looking at some drink-food.”

He wanted to cry. How much more “down” could he be? He was being as well behaved as he possibly could be…

But then he was leaned up till he was half sitting, and a straw was held to his lips.

It was…sweet? It tasted familiar but like the surface he was laying on, it wasn’t worth the thought to figure out what it was. It was sweet, and cold, and he was more than grateful.

There was only a few sips but that was enough…

The straw came away, and then there was water, a bottle held to his lips, also cold. Hot tears down did start to fall, only a few. He’d never take for granted a single drop of rain, ever.

Only when the bottle was empty did he feel, finally, no longer thirsty. He just slumped over, no longer held up by the arm around his shoulders, and took in the feeling of cool air and cool water still on his lips.

“Good job…” their voice seemed to come from farther away now, and it had a new heaviness to it, “That was the easy part.”

Easy part?

He supposed that in comparison to anything else, being given water would be the easiest part. But it still made his heart stutter to hear something heavy and metal scrape together…

Oh please, oh please, just give me a moment…

He could hear footsteps behind him, and felt them take his wrists by the cuffs, and more hot tears started to fall and he braced for the pain…

“Okay kid, just hold still okay?”

The pain that didn’t come.

There were two sharp snaps that shot his nerves to hell and back, then, he was rolled over onto his back.

Flat on his back, with his hands out to his sides.

Though he knew he was supposed to “keep it down”, he couldn’t help the near scream of pain as the unused muscles of his shoulders seemed to creak back into place.

“There we go, good job…” they sigh, “Your wrists are definitely infected. Brace yourself, this is gonna sting a little bit, but then it’ll stop.”

He did. And it did.

They dabbed something cold around the ring of shredded skin where the cuffs had been, and it took everything he had left not to flinch or pull away. He tried so hard to stay silent, to keep it down, but it was impossible.

Tears were still falling when he could hear them stand up, groaning, and he hoped that it was over for a minute…

They were gone for so long that he almost thought it was, but of course… He was lucky, but not that lucky.

“Okay, almost over for now. There’s still a lot to do but not much is going to happen until you get some rest and let that water kick in…”

Oh no, oh no..

They were right next to his head, he could hear from their voice that they were leaning over him, and though he took comfort in their words, it didn’t do much.

But all they felt was a cool cloth across their forehead, wiping away some of the sweat and grime.

Tears and sweat and months of dirt was wiped away in moments as he tried desperately to open his eyes, even for a moment. Just to see who had been so gentle, who he would now eagerly follow…

But it was so comfortable, and he was so tired, and all he managed to see for the brief second he finally opened them, was a flash of deep blue.

[sohin-ace]

Abbachio - Hangover

You walked inside the headquarters that you titled your home.

It was half past 3 A.M and you knew fair well everybody in the team was staying here for the night, and were most likely sleeping soundly like babies at this hour.

And so, with velvety steps and calculated slow movements, you entered the porch and quietly closed the door, moving in the dark as silently as possible.

You had just finished a tiring mission and the one thing you desired most at the moment was to crash into bed, maybe marry it since you were at it, barely thinking about the sticky blood, sweat and dried river water that stained you during your mission.

You huffed and kicked your shoes off, liberating your aching and swollen feet from them, directing yourself towards the kitchen to fetch some well-deserved water that your throat was oh-so desperately screaming for.

You were shocked to find the room lit at this hour. Your first thought was that Bruno was probably still awake and having a small break from his neverending pile of work.

Your expression completely fell, however, upon seeing that Bruno was not the one occupying the kitchen but someone else, greeting you with a heart breaking sight.

"... Leone?"

The male was slumped over the table, his head buried in his arms with one hand holding onto a spilling wine bottle, burgundy liquid running everywhere onto the wooden surface, the floor, and onto the male's clothes. Even some strands of his splayed out hair drank up the alcohol, dying them from silver to violet.

You gasped at the mess but was even more shocked by the implications behind said mess. He didn't even bother taking a glass, prefering downing the wine directly from the bottle. He wasn't planning on holding back tonight and it alarmed you.

You knew of Abbachio's tendency of alchoholism, but he was never so drunk as to black out this way and you weren't sure he would even be able to work tomorrow, or do anything else, for that matter.

"Leone..." You slowly approached his hunched over form and gently shook him. "Caro, wake up."

No response.

With you being all alone in the middle of the night, there weren't much you could do. But there were no way you'd ever leave him in this state.

Shaken with worry, you only did what your heart told you and moved the bottle away from his grip. It was almost empty at this point anyway.

You brushed his long hair to the side to let some fresh air cool his face down while you cleaned and mopped the tiled floor and table. Oh you'd make sure to lecture him about that later.

You thought about him, sitting next to you as you cleaned up. How tormented he was and how, just like the wine bottle, he spilled himself out in secrecy.

You bit back your tears. He was so alone. Tortured. It hurt you that your Leone, whom you loved so much, had to go through a trauma you could never heal for him. Or even soothed in the slightest. You were grateful that he even remotely accepted your affection, but still.

It wasn't enough, for you.

"I wish I could help you, Leone..." You murmured and caressed his soft hair, revealing more of his peaceful face, his smeared makeup not tainting any of his beauty.

Your heart clenched, he looked so calm, so sweet. How did he manage to make grief look so gentle, you would never know. You almost didn't want to move him and disturb him, but you had to.

Carefully holding his shoulders, you pulled him up, his weight much heavier than you'd have expected, even thought it should be no surprise. Abbachio was a burly man.

You craddled his head and placed him in a proper up-sitting position and he groaned.

"Uugh... Hhmmm..."

"Leone, wake up, love." You still held his face against your chest and patted his cheek to wake him, scared that he'd sway and tumble over if you let go of him. "You gotta go to bed. Come on."

"Hmmm.... Sssuuuree...." He mumbled, words slurred.

He was surprisingly compliant, you thought. When you were certain he could hold his own head up, you let go and grabbed his wrist, still drenched in wine.

You hooked his arm around your shoulders and wrapped your own around his torso. He made the effort to stay in balance while you hoisted him up to his feet, not without struggle and effort on your part.

You stumbled a bit, but managed to get him up, at least, holding onto him for dear life as you maneuvered his much heavier body around the kitchen.

He counted on you for support and was close to falling sleeping on you as he snored against your hair, the stench of alcohol reaching your nostrils. Man, why did he have to be the heaviest male of the group?

You brushed your exhaustion from the preceeding mission to the side and dedicated yourself to helping Leone. Rest could wait.

Thanks to the help of your Stand, you ended the course safely back to his room and opened the door, having more hands to do so.

You let him down to sit onto his bed as gently as you could and you felt he was about collapse again.

You instantly wrapped your arms around his shoulders and let him slump over your chest.

"Woa- Don't lay down just yet! I need to get your clothes off."

He only purred some low nonsense, as if to show his annoyance to you. Well, maybe he desperately wanted to sleep, but so did you.

"Don't 'brrr' at me, boy. You're the one who spilled wine all over your pants and top!" You scolded to deaf, or rather drunk ears. Not like he was listening to you, but still.

Huffing a bit, you took hold of the lace on his top and untied it, letting you slide the rest off his broad shoulders and back. It was much easier to slip the sleeves off afterwards, and you were almost proud of yourself.

"I'm gonna be such a good mom." You joked to yourself as you caringly held onto Leone's warm back and head to gently place him down on his bed before taking his shoes and pants off.

Once this was done and not without a pause to catch your breath, you went to the bathroom to grab a towel, dampening it in warm water before you came back to him and sat by his side. He had already fallen fast asleep, and was looking awfully adorable, if you were honest.

" 'Clumsy brat'," You chuckled with a whisper as you wiped the wine off his skin and the sweat and tears off his neck and chest. "That's what you always called me. Ironic."

You looked fondly over at him as you finished your self-assigned task, closing off by wiping his left hand. You thought over your options.

Maybe it was the fatigue blurring your moral code. Or maybe you were just blinded by this crazy thing called love. Perhaps he was just an enticing wizard who cast a spell on you with his lips. Whatever it was, you foolishly decided you would kiss him after you removed his make up, and so you did.

You gently removed what remained of his make up that wasn't washed out by the crying and the drinking. You sighed at your good job and leaned over, running your fingers delicately over his skin.

"This is probably wrong." You hesitated, questioning your choices, yet feeling brave. "But I think I can at least have that, right...? Pardon me for this, Leone."

You closed the distance between you both to press your lips ever-so-sweetly on his own, wanting to linger, but not quite feeling deserving enough either. It was short-lived but precious and tingly. You felt your heart flutter and you swore you also felt his hand twitch slightly next to you.

You sighed. You yearned for more. You wished you could just collapse and fall asleep by him. Your responsibilities thankfully got the best of you.

"I love you. Please love yourself too, we all want to see you better. I know I do. Depend on me sometimes too, okay?" You breathed out to him, secretely hoping he heard you in his dreams and maybe accepted your selfish and heartfelt request.

You were tired. You needed to sleep and you were afraid you'd act more and more foolishly if you stayed with him any longer.

You reluctantly leaned away from him and got up, making sure to tuck him in thoroughly inside the blankets before you left.

You'd leave a note to Bruno to not wake him up in the morning.

When Abbachio woke up in the morning, much later than he usually did, he was disappointed, yet not surprised to be struck with a splitting headache.

"Fuck..." He groaned, holding his heavy head in his hands, "Not again..."

He inhaled deeply only to realise he was strangely met by a sweet familiar scent mixed with the stinging wine he drowned himself in.

Out of doubt, he looked over the bedside table and found a water bottle and some aspirin as well as a small note.

He grabbed the note and squinted at it, trying to read it with his still hazy eyes.

'Water helps with hangover headaches. Tablets too, obviously :P . Take it easy, Bruno gave you the day off.'

Was that you? That was most definitely you, he thought. And that fruity scent on his face and hands must be you too. There were no doubt now.

It didn't take him long to put two and two together. He would have been much quicker-witted if he wasn't so hungover. He remembered you had a mission last night, you probably went home by then and helped him to bed out of sheer empathy, sweet as you were.

Abbachio sighed and rubbed his face. He was both ashamed and extremely grateful towards you. It must have been so draining to come take care of him after you risked your life out there.

God he felt like shit. Again, he was being a burden on the people he loved, all because of his selfish choices. But knowing you, you'd probably hate him thinking that of himself, and tell him you were fine with it and happy to help. You had such a kind heart.

"... How did she even get me upstairs...? This tiny dwarf."

He groaned and sat up, smoothing his fingers over his lips. He blushed at his own thoughts. He swore he dreamt of you kissing him as he was asleep, and the feeling was still pretty vivid.

But he couldn't be sure. Drunken dreams were weird sometimes.

Thinking of making it up to you, he took the medicine and downed it with water, his mind filled with thoughts of you only.

He deserved at least that.

[theunholygrails]

Foolish Games Part 2

Masterlist

A/N: Introducing new characters and some drama! Percy is still sexy as ever :'(.

Warnings: BJ

I woke up to a door slamming so hard it joined the symphony of my pounding headache. I groaned, hoisting myself over the back of the couch to investigate to intrusion. A brunette head of long sweeping hair rushed through the foyer, barreling towards the kitchen. A familiar mop of black hair hurried after.

Reyna was speaking so fast in Spanish my brain scrambled to keep up. I noted lots of curse words followed by a series of sentences too fast I was surprised she even knew what she was saying. Percy was answering in slow measured words, probably fighting a hangover of equal measure. I ducked behind the back of the couch, reaching for my phone plugged in on the coffee table.

It was noon. 2% battery and a couple messages from friends. Nothing from my ex thank gods. Five from Annabeth being nosey. I opened my uber app, squinting in the sunlight breaking through the cream curtains. I managed to get my driver secured.

A door slammed and I winced, peaking to check that they were in another room. I did not immediately spot my dress in the chaotic. I grimaced remembering the midnight swim. When I sat up I finally noticed the white tshirt I wore and the basketball shorts. And then I went rigid remembering what happened after the swim.

“Motherfucker,” I whispered.

Now I really had to get out of this house. I checked the arrival time of my driver. Three minutes away. Great. I made my way on shaky knees to the large wooden front door. My keys were still in the collection dish. I grabbed them quietly and turned the door handle a fraction of an inch before another door slammed open and Reyna came barreling back into the foyer, brown eyes landing promptly on my guilty ass. Behind her, Percy pursed his lips into a thin line and raised both of his hands to lay on top of his head. His biceps strained nicely against the thin t shirt.

“The fuck is this?” Reyna whispered.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing,” I babbled.

“It’s just Noa, Rey. Gods,” Percy said.

“I can see that, Percy!” She snapped. I was glad her spear was not strapped across her back this morning. “Why is she sneaking out of my house in your clothes?”

“People were swimming last night. Her clothes got wet.”

“I’m sure the fuck they did.”

“Zeus, Rey! You ended it with me. Why does it even matter?”

“Because I still fucking love you! I’m sorry, okay?” She burst out crying and Percy instantly pulled her against his chest. The memory of being in those arms drove me out the door like a nest of hornets.

~~~~

“I’m just saying. You have nothing to feel sorry for,” Annabeth paused to sip her iced coffee. “Unless they get back together and then you sleep with him. But as of right now, you’re good. Trust me. Been on the Percy train. We’re still friends. You’ll get over it. Just a harmless rebound for both of you.”

I groaned, laying my chin on the cool metal table parked outside our favorite coffee shop positioned between our New York apartments. Just two Manhattan women enjoying their Sunday afternoon. The air was cooling as fall neared. I pulled my baseball cap closer to the top of my sunglasses.

“Should I call him?”

“Maybe tomorrow. Let him deal with his relationship drama. Reyna is a lot to deal with. Still nothing from fuckface?”

“Nope and that’s fine.”

“Good for you. We will hydrate you, get you a good dinner, hit the gym before work in the morning and then get back on our bad bitch mental track. Agreed?”

~~~~

“Good Monday, yogis,” I chirped from my desk at the corner of my studio.

The third class was beginning to trickle in and I was settling into my rhythm. Hot yoga was next and hopefully I would sweat out all the negativity I’d allowed lately. I was in the middle of emailing back a potential client when someone rapped at the wood of my desk. I glanced up to a blonde male who waved gently.

“Heya, sansei Noa,” he said.

“That’s karate. Can I help you?”

“Do you do trial classes?”

I hit send on my email and closed my laptop. The guy was built like a poser with the defined muscles and chiseled jaw but his voice was soft and tempered. He was clean shaven and dressed like a basic gym bro.

“Normally you have to schedule them beforehand because of class size,” I gave my standard answer.

“Right, my bad. Sorry. I was just passing by the front and it looked like the kind of place I needed right now. Can I go ahead and pick a date then?”

I was staring too long into his pale blue eyes, honed in on the polite response. A nice change from the daily demanding consumers. “You know what? Ive got space right now if you like? Have you ever done hot yoga?”

A brilliant white smile showcasing sharp canines. “My favorite.”

“Perfect. I just need a name, number and email to get you a file started.”

He leaned large hands on my desk. “It’s Luke Castellan.”

Before he could give the contact information, I cut him off. “Wait. I know you.” His tanned skin paled significantly.

“I…”

“You’re supposed to be dead!” I blurted out.

His eyes skated around the room and he leaned in closer. “That’s not supposed to be public knowledge. I assume you’re a demigod?”

“Luke, you trained me. We took fucking sculpting together. The Apollo table was right next to the Hermes one for fuck’s sake.”

He winced. I heard a murmuring from the rest of my class I was disturbing with my volume. I collected my shock finally. “Take a seat if you want. We should talk after class. I need to start.”

“Okay. Thank you. I’m sorry Noa.”

I waved him off and walked over to my yoga mat. I sat cross legged and drew in an even breath to smooth out my emotions.

It was a slow 30 minute class. Each pose and movement dragged on. Finally, I dismissed the group and nodded Luke outside. He was waiting on the bench outside of the studio I split renting with a few other instructors. I sat next to him, wiping sweat from my face with the towel slung over my pink sports bra.

“Alright, talk,” I said.

“Not much to say. I was given a second chance at my hearing. Here I am. Starting over.” A shrug of well-defined shoulders. The muscles flexed beneath his gleaming sweat. His red tank top stuck to his chest and stomach. “I wish I remembered you, truly. That time is such a blur in my life.”

“It’s ok. You were a lot older than me and to be honest I had a massive crush on you so I probably hid most of the time.”

A surprised smile slipped across his lips. “I’m assuming the betrayal helped you get over that?”

I laughed outloud, slapping his knee. “No shit! So where are you staying these days?”

“Just around the corner actually. Got a job at the local gym.”

“Yeah I bet the fuck you did.” I squeezed his forearm between both of my hands. I wanted to roll my eyes at me falling back into my school girl giddy at him. Betrayal of the gods aside. He was even more gorgeous than ever. The scar down his face gave him a dark sexy vibe. Like a bad boy even though he claimed he was rehabbing himself now.

“So how, did you feel about the class?”

“I mean, I’d like to sign up for it a couple times a week, that’s for sure. And I’d like to take you out to dinner to make up for not remembering a beauty like you.”

I almost bit my cheek biting out the response of “Yes!”

“You’ve got my number,” he said, chuckling quietly. “I’ve got to get to work.” He shouldered his gym bag and excused himself.

The bike back to my apartment was spent reliving my tween fantasies about bad boy Luke. I opened my apartment door and screeched seeing a man sitting at my kitchen counter. Percy turned to face me.

“You know you live in New York? You should really lock that.”

“It was!” I snapped.

A quick grin. “Yeah. But it was easy to break into.”

I dropped my bag onto the floor and brushed past him to get a protein shake from the fridge. “I have to shower and get prepared for my night classes.” I told him.

“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier.”

I shrugged. “I didn’t either.”

He paused, studying my face in the shitty lighting of the single bulb hanging between us over the counter. “Are we good, Noa?”

“Of course. What’s a little head between friends?”

“Okay…I can’t read you. Can you not play tough just for a minute?”

I chugged the shake and set the bottle down between us. I leaned my arms on the chilled counter, bun knocking against the light. “Honestly, Percy. I’m fine. We are good.”

“Reyna moved back in.”

“You’re engaged again?”

I drank from the empty bottle to give myself something to do. He watched me with those green eyes. He’d known me for far too long. He was nearly impossible to deceive, but I was determined today. The fact that I had dreamt of fucking him two consecutive nights was irrelevant if he was off the table. Even if his lips did look incredibly juicy tonight. Even if they had done near illicit things to me just nights ago.

“I don’t know. She said she wanted to work on things. And it’s her dad’s house, so I can’t ask her to go and I don’t want to go to my mom’s and admit defeat.”

“You know you could stay here, Perc.”

He worked his jaw silently, then rubbed his hands over his face. “Thanks. I do know. Even if we aren’t officially back together, I think we should work on it…” he trailed off.

“And not tell her about you eating me out?” I leaned closer because I was mean to both him and myself. Because I knew this top combined with this angle gave him a simple opportunity. And he took it.

His tongue slid out between his lips as his eyes flicked down, stayed, then dragged deliberately back up. “Probably not,” he agreed.

For a long moment neither of us said anything. He had more to lose now than me. We were no longer on equal playing fields. So, I left the ball in his court. “I’m going to go shower.”

I was done washing in the first ten minutes. The second ten was giving him a little wiggle room to decide. I had my hand on the faucet to cut off the water that was beginning to go cold when I heard the door creak open. I watched through the fogged glass, catching a hold of my breath. I watched as he tugged his shirt off. My stomach flipped over itself when he reached for his jeans. What had I done?

The opening door let in a rush of cool air, perking my skin to attention. My eyes raked unapologetically over his naked, aroused body. His dark hair quickly slicked against his stubble covered jaw. His eyes were no longer the sea green but murky like the deep water of the ocean.

“Hey,” he said quietly, cautiously.

“Hey,” I giggled, reaching out to touch his rough jaw. He winced, catching my hand with his. “We probably shouldn’t kiss again.”

“Sure, whatever you want, Percy. What can I do to you?”

He groaned, turning his mouth into my palm, scraping teeth against the vulnerable skin. “Touch me,” he said.

My free hand instantly planted against his chest, scraping at the muscle. His eyes fluttered closed, head tilting back to expose his throat. I slid my other hand into his thick hair, tugging it tightly between my fingers and pulling to grant myself more access to the strong column of his neck. I bit it first, backing him into the tiled wall when he shuddered. I kissed over the reddening skin and moved my hands to his flat stomach, feeling the shuddered breaths beneath my touch.

“Like this?” I asked.

His reply was unintelligible. I kissed down his chest, moving my hand lower still as I went. When my fingers brushed over the v-line of his hips, I shifted my route away from the center and to his thighs. An annoyed grunt escaped his lips. “Hush,” I scolded, getting my knees under me. The now cold water was hitting the back of my neck and flowing down my body. I placed my hands on the inside of both his thighs, trailing them upwards and upwards until he nearly contorted when I gripped him. He let out a scandalous string of curses that quickly turned to moaning silence when I took him into my mouth.

He unraveled in minutes and I let him cum all over the breasts I had teased him with earlier. I rose in front of him, my own rosy cheeks mirroring his. “Now we’re even.”

[elliesbaby]

home

loss can be an opening to new beginnings

warnings: semi gore, loss

notes: this was rushed i'm very sorry and i decided not to capitalize because i'm gay

“what the hell am i doing?” you thought to yourself. several hours ago you had been bit by a damn clicker. your neck writhed in pain but that was it. no headache, no blurred vision. no weakness. you knew you would have to turn soon. you watched your father go from a strong man to a sick monster in a matter of an hour. shaking the memory out of your head you trudged forward.

7 hours ago your family got split up due to a hoard of infected. the last thing you heard your mother say before the split was “please make it out alive, i love you” you could still hear the crack in her voice as she spit out the plea. she knew it might be the last time she sees you. I guess she was right due to the painful bite that marked your end. you wouldn't let it be the last time she’d see you. you had a plan. there was a small house that your family agreed to meet at if a situation like this ever happened.

dragging your feet from the long walk to the little yellow house you hear something that unsettles you. groaning. not from someone alive but from one of the dead. the sound of sloshing guts and lasts gasps of air. you walk in with your machete in your hand. blood splattered everywhere. beasts digging their greedy aching hands and teeth into them. them. my mother, my brothers and my youngest sister. what remained of them scattered against the walls and chairs. your vision goes blurry from the tears welding up in your eyes. the blood still dripping down your neck from the fate your family couldn't avoid either. you lift your machete up and at full speed start slashing into the brains of the clickers. letting out every bit of emotion while you screamed and killed every last thing around you.

they laid dead. twitching as the last seconds in their scarred bodies drained out. you look to your youngest sister, the one you had sworn to protect. she laid lifeless. only some cloth of her pink dress remained. you take the bat your brother always carried and started beating the dead bodies of the monsters that took your family away. you were screaming, crying, and pleading. you didn't care if you attracted more, you were dead meat anyways. you hear the floors creak behind you and without looking you sit accepting your fate. you just wanted to die with your family. the groans grew closer and louder. until you heard a gunshot. you slowly turn around and meet eyes with a green eyed girl.

“what the fuck are you okay?” she stutters out. you turn around to stare at your family's body without saying a word. in ellie’s mind she knew she couldn't just leave you here. there was a pain in your eyes she couldn’t fathom. after a minute the quiet girl sits next to you. in this moment you barely realize she is there. you sit, empty, broken, unaware of what's going on besides the people laying cold in front of you.

for a reason beyond ellie's understanding she stayed. something about this girl felt familiar to her. she had this need to protect her. ellie stood up quietly and started to barricade the house. she blocked off all the entryways and went upstairs to see if there was a bed. without surprise there was, she managed to get two pillows and a sheet to spread out. she lit a tealight candle as it started getting dark. she knew people back at Jackson would be worried but she decided she was going to help this girl, no matter what it took. as she went downstairs she sat next to you again.

finally you wake up, emotionally speaking. you realize your surroundings have changed. It was dark now and a lot colder. you were shocked to see the girl sitting next to you. you looked at her as she looked back. she felt like someone you knew. or at least there was a strong sense of comfort that radiated off of her presence.

“why did you stay?” you mumble, unable to keep eye contact.

“i didn't want to leave”

“who are you?” you question

“ellie, and you?”

“my name's y/n and as you can guess this was my family.”

ellie slowly puts her hand on yours in an attempt to comfort you, she never was too great at comforting people.

“i'm so sorry y/n, if you want I can stay with you tonight? I had set up a bed for you upstairs and left food and water.”

you look at her in shock, you didn't even notice all that she had done with you were zoned out. could you have just met someone who really cared? is there a chance you won't be alone fighting for your life now? then you remember.

tugging at your shirt you reveal a bite to her. she looks at it with saddened eyes yet she doesn't run away, you wonder why. “i got bit around 11 hours ago when I got split up from my family, you should go before I turn.” you say choking back the tears.

“11 hours ago? you seem okay do you feel sick?”

“ no just tenderness on the bite, i feel fine but everyone turns, it’s only a matter of time”

In that moment you hear ellie talk more than she has the whole time. she blurts out her story about being immune almost like it was a relief to get off her chest. you didn't know how to take the news but all of you believed her. could you be immune? you never saw someone last this long before and you didn't feel sick.

“hey im immune so let me stay with you, i'll let you sleep and make sure you don't turn. besides what's the worst that could happen? you biting me?” she chuckles.

you couldn't help but let out a small giggle at the girl. you agree knowing there's nowhere else for you to go. besides maybe you could make life mean something in honor of your family. being immune.

it had been two hours of you laying. you couldn't sleep. when you shut your eyes all you could see is the guts spilling out of your mother. you look over to see ellie glancing at you. you didn't know this but she was thinking about how beautiful you were. “hey ellie? could you lay with me?” in shock ellie slowly gets up almost as if she imagined you saying that. she gets on the bed next to you as you both stare to the ceiling.

“thank you” you whisper.

she just turns her head to you and watches. watches how your eyes gleamed due to the candle light. how your hair fell next to hers. how warm you felt next to her.

you feel her staring and get quite nervous. to fill the silence you tell ellie about what your mom used to do when you were sad or scared. she’d sing you a song called future days and play with your hair while giving you gentle pecks on the head. tears fill your eyes as you remember. you got lost in thought about how you so badly wanted that comfort again.

you feel a hand gently pushing your hair behind your ears. a soft beautiful voice singing the song you thought you'd never hear again. you turn to look at the girl. tears falling out of your eyes as you feel you are looking at an angel. a girl you didn't know is doing the one thing in the world that brings you most joy. she looks at you and slowly moves her head up to kiss your forehead. as she pulls away you couldn't help but press your lips against hers. the feelings were quick but unstoppable. home. that's all you could feel. she was home. in this moment you realized you would follow her anywhere if it meant you could know her. ellie knew at that moment that she didn't want to let you go, she wanted to be the one to sing to you and have her fingers running through your hair at any second of your discomfort. that is just what you both did. the next day ellie was going to take you to jackson. a new start, a new meaning to life.

Part 2: moving on.

[bokutoslittlebird]

Side Effects May Include...

Bokuto x reader

Author’s Note : I feel like this is long overdue

Warnings: medication [not specified], full nelson, f. masturbation, sex toys [vibrators], choking, doggy style, mating press, this is mostly smut, Princess as a pet name, creampie(s)

“Here is your prescription,” the pharmacist says. You thank her and take the bag. Taking out the piece of paper, you look over the side effects.

“May include high libido? Sure,” you laugh, though there’s no joy behind it. Your last prescription had the same side effects listed, but it lowered the libido. It wasn’t that big of a deal, but after entering a relationship with Bokuto, you found it to be bothersome. Bokuto was always bouncing off the walls with boundless energy and after the first time, he was obsessed. If he could, he’d have it every night.

You felt bad, thinking back on it. When he had asked, you always consented but you were tired after one round and found that it wasn’t as pleasureful as it could be. Bokuto noticed, of course, so you confessed about your.. predicament. He took it in stride, understanding that he couldn’t get his dick wet every night, but you let him hit it at least once a week. Yet, you would know when he went to the bathroom for 15 minutes, it was because he needed to rub one out. It made you feel like a bad girlfriend, unable to properly take care of him.

The new prescription didn’t have anything new, you felt like. Your libido was still the same, you weren’t eating more or less, and you didn’t feel the need to sleep all day from a headache. Bokuto understood, his smile as bright as it was when you guys got together when he sees you. However, he mentioned he had an away game over dinner that evening.

“It’s only down to Miyagi, so it’sa 2 day trip. I’ll leave early tomorrow mornin’ and be back late Saturday night,” he says around a mouthful of food. You laugh at that, his cheeks puffing out like a chipmunk.

“Alright, I’ll be here. I’ll get groceries Saturday afternoon, then,”

“Why’re ya laughin’?” He really doesn’t understand, which just makes you laugh harder.

“Swallow your food, you heathen! You look like a chipmunk,” you puff out your cheeks like his which has him giggling, having to turn away from you to swallow. Once he has loudly gulped down his food, he fully laughs and joins in with your laughter. A classic dinner.

The next day goes by without any issues, your body feeling a bit more active than when you were on your old prescription. Jogging around the neighborhood and deciding to exercise the extra energy off, you wonder if you’ll be more active to sleep with Bokuto. The next day, Saturday, however, you find yourself more than just a bit active.

The grocery run is in the morning and includes some extra things that weren’t on the list. After getting home and putting away the groceries, you rip into the packaging of the vibrator and batteries you bought. The extra vibrator you bought is off to the side, most likely to be used at a later date. You do push in the batteries, however, in case the other one’s batteries die. Before you head to the bedroom, you do reach out to grab the extra vibrator.

It’s late evening or early morning, you can’t tell. You’re exhausted from the marathon you’ve given your poor clit and underwear, two pairs stiff from the liquid they’ve absorbed. With the fan on, you lay on your bed with only Bokuto’s shirt to give you some decency, but even then it is too hot. Everything is too hot right now, you feel like, as your hand slides down your sides until it’s diving between your thighs and teasing your folds. You avoid your clit, feeling the desire to rub and tease it again, but you don’t. With the state you’re in, you don’t know if you’ll be able to walk anytime soon.

Good thing you don’t have to worry.

The door opening is almost heavenly to you, knowing Bokuto’s home. The loud thud from his bag hitting the floor tells you he’s in a bad mood, most likely from a lost. He’s quiet the rest of the way, probably hoping to not disturb you. With you wide awake, you decide to give him something to walk into. Hand still between your legs, you pump them into you as soft moans leave your lips.

“He-llo?” His voice pitches a bit as he enters the room. Frozen in place, there he stands. Turning your head slightly towards him, you give off a lazy smile.

“I need your help, big boy,” you practically moan, feeling your hands squelching with the accumulated slick. He doesn’t hesitate, his frown and confusion turning to a smile and desire. He’s already shrugging off his clothes as he moves closer to the bed. Once there, he replaces your fingers with his own, rough and thick enough to reach inside where your fingers couldn’t. Your hand drops, the ache in your arm from the constant movement getting to you, but that’s not the focus. With a nearly three pumps of his fingers, you’re gushing and moaning as juices drip out of you, down his hand and his thick arm. The same hand that reaches up and pushes past your lips so you can taste yourself, his own body moving up as his cock bobs against your thigh.

“So needy and I’ve only been gone for two days,” he practically coos into your ear, one hand lining himself up to push into you. Words don’t come as easily now, your mind fuzzy from the orgasm that begins the long marathon of what’s coming. “All ready and prepped for me, too. Gonna let me relieve some stress, baby?”

“Please,” your whine of pleasure has him pushing into your depths, your cunt eagerly sucking him in. Mewls come from your lips as your back arches, ass pushing back into his hips to get more. “More, please,”

“You can’t take anymore,” he grunts, large arms coming to wind around your throat. The simple action prevents you from moving any farther down. “Your tiny cunt can’t take it, princess,”

“I can! I can!” broken moans and useless mewls, that’s all you hear from your lips. He doesn’t give you a chance to speak anymore, shoving his entire length into you and splitting you open, your body bouncing forward and into the pillows. The simple action has his tip bumping your cervix, making you feel as if he actually will split you in two as he fucks into your heat. Squelching and squishing noises come your cunt with each pump of his cock into you as he disappears inside, only to come back out. The wet slapping of his balls against your clit has your walls clamping down around him, sucking him in even more as he groans and releases your neck so your body is completely limp.

A murmur of something comes from him, but you don’t understand it. When his arms hook under yours and his fingers lace together behind your head, you let out a scream as he continues to jackhammer into you. “God, I’ve missed this,” he momentarily chuckles, his forehead resting against your back, sweat soaking through the fabric as he fucks you. His constant hip thrusting must be drawing him to a close, you wonder, but he continues to drive himself into you. A low moan comes from him as his hips still, against your ass as his own orgasm splashes against your walls, filling you up.

It’s not enough.

You’re still whining, backing your ass up for more as he goes to pull out. He does pull out, but he then flips you over to see the state of your face. Snot is smeared across your face and tears stain your cheeks with drool spilling from your mouth, but he thinks you’re more beautiful than anything he’s ever seen. He’s glad he came home to this.

Legs still spread wide open, your fingers dive between your legs to tease and rub yourself, collecting the sticky cum he just spilt into you. A growl comes from deep in his chest as he watches, eyes lidded as he realizes you’re still ready to go. You’re still unsatisfied, which is unusual for you, but he isn’t going to complain. The soft mewls from you and then loud moans as he sinks himself back into you. There’s hardly any resistance as he does, groaning as he throws his head back at the sensation. Moving his body forward, he picks up your legs and hooks them over his shoulders, keeping his arms on either side of you to keep your legs up.

With the change in position, he can somehow reach even deeper into you as he thrusts. Tip bumping against your cervix and every single push and pull out of you has your cunt spasming around him, sucking him in and gushing out more milky fluid. Bubbles form at the base of his cock, wetting the slick patch of hair around there. His lips find yours, stifling your moans as he pistons into you, headboard slamming against the wall as he uses every bit of energy to fuck you into a stupor. Even now, the only noises you can make are muffled mewls, startled gasps, and broken moans. Each noise gives him the courage to keep going, even as he feels his next orgasm coming, he forces it down until your squirting and screaming all over his cock.

It isn’t too long until you’re doing exactly that, nails digging into the back of his neck and his shoulder as you cry out, ending your orgasm with a mewling moan. When your walls finish fluttering around him, his cock sore from the sensations, then does he finally release inside you. Keeping you pinned beneath him, he moans as he hangs his head low, rutting against you as he pumps more and more of his cum into you.

Heavy breathing fills in the silence where there was the sounds of sex, both of you coming down from your high. He still has more energy in him, but he’s sure you’re tired and want to sleep. Removing his face from your neck, he looks down at you to see the aftermath of his merciless fucking. A small chuckle leaves him as he attempts to wipe the tears still spilling from your eyes away. His hips move, pulling himself from you, but you whine at the loss of contact.

“I gotta clean you up, you’re a mess,”

“I’m not.. I wan’ ag’in,” you manage to get out, legs locking him closer to you as your hands run down his chest. He flushed at that, as if he didn’t just finish railing you.

“Oh, you’re still wanting, uh, more? What happened?” He asks, but you’re too out of it to properly respond, pointing a finger at the pill bottle beside the bed. He seems to understand, but you don’t actually know. He does, however, push his thick cock back into you. “Alright, then we’ll go again. Wanna make you even more of a mess,”

You can’t say anything against that, tears already starting again as your mouth hangs open in a wanton moan. He has the decency to kiss you, stifling your moans as he rocks himself into you once more.

[thesunicarusfellfor]

Safe With Me (Yandere!Plat!C!Ranboo x F!Reader) 2/???

TW: Yandere, blood, canon lives lost, mention of painkillers, kiddnapping, swearing

Part One

Over the next few days, he practically begged you to come to live with him in the Snowchester mansion, claiming that you could be much safer there, and closer to him. A.k.a, away, FAR away from Technoblade.

While you liked the thought, you explained to him that you liked your home and wanted to wait a bit before moving in. Ranboo was a little upset but quickly went back to smiling and saying he understood... He couldn't be mad at you... This was life changing for ender's sake.

Then your last day at his home came quicker than he would have liked.. but that's not the only reason he hated that day...

Maybe the voices took over?

Or maybe he was of his own free will when he did it..?

He never fully got the answer out of you and he never understood what happened... He never understood why that damned man decided to take everything from him that day...

You had walked out the door a few minutes ago with a smile on your face and a travel cup full of whatever hot drink you had made before leaving... Then he heard an ear-piercing scream.

Stumbling over his own long and lanky legs, he ran out the door as fast as he could, crashing and tripping over furniture before reaching his front door. He threw it open with a cry of your name and saw the scene he feared the most...

Every single one of his fears had come true.

You were laying lifelessly on the stark white snow, eyes and mouth wide open with dull terror as your clothes were covered in an almost beautiful ruby red liquid seeping from a hole in your chest. Your once shiny (e/c) eyes were glazed over like the glass eyes of a doll, your skin rapidly losing any sort of beautiful hue he had once studied.

Ranboo couldn't stop the scream of bloody murder that escaped his throat as he stumbled through the snow and collapsed to his knees beside your colourless corpse. His hands quickly became covered in the red liquid as it seeped into the snow, flowing freely from the wound that had been created by the man he has once respected.

He knew you were already gone by the time he came out, but he still kept trying to get you to wake up. His colourless hands gently shaking you, holding your face in between his stained hands, trying anything to keep the life from leaving your body, but obviously failing.

"She has one more life left. You're overreacting." His pink-haired neighbour growled softly as your body began to break apart into particles. Despite the piglin's words, the other hybrid sobbed hysterically with his head thrown back to the sky, ignoring the tears burning into his skin.

"I'll kill you."

"Heh?"

"I'll kill you for this, Technoblade." Ranboo tilted his head back down as the black part of his skin began to seep into the white part. His green eye turned into an amethyst-coloured purple and his mouth began to split open.

The next few days to him were a blur... Or that was his memory getting worse...

He'll never really know...

He just knew that you weren't safe without him... You were on your last canon life! You had to be protected...

Even if that meant you couldn't leave...

He had a few more days before you woke up from your respawn, so he set to work quickly. Ranboo began to build an obsidian building, reminding him very much of his panic room, but he couldn't focus on the fact for very long. He had to build something only he could get into. Something that would protect you. Something that couldn't be destroyed.

It was difficult and took longer than he would've liked... But it was safe and out of the way. No one would find it, but that was what he wanted. It was for your safety! And so he could remember you forever! He couldn't complain even if he was tired and his hands were covered in blisters from mining for so long...

Carrying your momentarily lifeless body through L'Manberg was stressful enough, with the emotional and mental pain of carrying the person he held closest to him, but with everyone quickly running up and asking what happen... He found himself unable to say anything other than, "Technoblade..." before brushing past them as quickly as possible, trying to get you to your new home.

There was an almost disgustingly familiar throbbing in your head that awoke you a few days later. You couldn't place where you had felt the headache before, but didn't think too much about it as you just decided to get up and start your day, "I wonder if Ranboo wants to hang out again, I mean... Then again, we've spent an entire week together. Mans is probably sick of me by now..." You laughed a bit to yourself, trying to hide the little stab of self-deprivation that filled your body.

Pushing yourself out of bed, you looked around and sighed, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, "At least I unpacked before I passed out... Now, where did I put the stupid painkillers...?" You walked out of your room, cringing at the cold wooden oak floors and sight of the darkened windows, "Ooookay. Slept less or longer than I thought... Maybe social interaction is more draining than I would like..."

You shuffled around your house and lit a few of the lanterns in your kitchen, digging through the cupboards to find something to alleviate the throbbing pain behind your eyes, "Oh! I went shopping before I passed out? Huh... Maybe I got a bit tipsy or something? Wait... I didn't buy painkillers? Dammit! I always need something I didn't buy..."

Groaning, you put your hand to your head before grabbing a sweater to put over the clothes you slept in, which were the clothes you left Ranboo's house in, before slipping on your shoes. Once you looked at yourself in the mirror, you deemed yourself ready to go outside and head by the store, so you opened the door...

Only to walk into a solid black wall.

"H-huh?" You whispered, gently reaching up and touching the cold material blocking your exit, "Ob...Obsidian? What on earth?... What kind of prank is Tommy pulling now?!" You huffed angrily and walked over to a window... Only to realize it wasn't dark... Every exit was covered in obsidian. "Okay, okay, what the- oh, wait I have tools! Ha ha Tommy, suck a pickaxe."

Walking over to your storage room and opened the chest that held your tools and materials to make tools, only to find it completely empty. Your armour was gone too! This... Was an elaborate prank... Maybe Tommy got help with it. You pushed yourself up and walked over to your enderchest, only to find it completely gone!

Dammit, Tommy definitely got help with this...

Realizing that they wanted you to panic, you huffed and sat down on your bed, crossing your arms in thought, "This... Ah, just gotta wait it out I guess..." You mumbled angrily, flopping onto your couch, groaning in annoyance as the action irritated your headache. Maybe you could sleep it off? Yeah, that was your best bet.

You weren't exactly sure how much time had past to be completely honest? Maybe a few days? Or a few hours? There wasn't much to really do during this horrible prank, you couldn't even enchant your tools or even make any! You didn't even have knives for cooking dammit! Plus... You were beginning to run low on food...

This time you woke up to something different. It sounded like Redstone activating and pistons sliding against each other before the door creaked open. The prank was finally over! Thank god! You shot up from your bed and walked towards the front door, only to see Ranboo standing there with bags filled with groceries dangling off his arms and tail. With a sigh, he decided to put them on the kitchen counter before looking around, only to completely light up at the sight of you, "(Y/n)! Hello!"

"Ranboo..." You smiled, your voice a bit hoarse from the lack of use, "Please tell me Tommy's terrible prank is over and I can go outside and touch grass again.

The hybrid's expression didn't change, "You can't go."

Your smile faltered a bit and you grit your teeth. This prank was still going on? How annoying. Turning quickly towards your door, you huffed as you saw it blocked off by obsidian again, "Boo... Please let me out... I'm not enjoying this prank anymore. I don't even have a clock-"

"Oh? Did I forget to build you a clock when I built this place? My bad, I'll make you one tonight so I can give it to you tomorrow." He continued to smile, beginning to put away your groceries for you... Somehow having the exact brands you always bought... And... Knowing exactly where they went, "But, you can't leave."

"This... This isn't funny anymore, Ranboo." You spoke firmly, but your voice wavered a small bit in realization as your face drained slightly of colour, "Built... This place? You put me here?"

The tone of voice, while still not lessening his smile, caught his attention, "Oh... You're looking pale... Here, let's get you to bed. You aren't looking too good and I don't want you getting sick." He walked over and put his hands on your shoulders, trying to get you to head into your room, but you wouldn't budge, "(Y/n), come on, I'm just doing what's best for your health and safety. We don't want you to lose your final life, especially to an easily preventable sickness, do we?"

"Final... Life...?" You were going to be sick... Quickly lifting your arm into view, you realized he was right. There was only one black line left. There were two when you visited Ranboo... What...? "I'm-I'm not tired... Ranboo, what happened?!"

"I'm not going to taint your memories with something so horrifying..." His voice, while sounding sickly sweet, sounded disgustingly morbid, "That's why you're in here! So I can keep you completely safe from the dangers of the outside world and remember you forever!" He was still wearing that damned smile...

He took you away from your life...

And he was fucking smiling...

-

GENERAL TAGLIST: Empty

'SAFE WITH ME' TAGLIST: @kylobensgirl