#i’ve just been in the worst. idk. fog

[newpartnerincrime]

[rosicheeks]

🙃

[dragonheartstring360]

Some notes for anyone writing a character with glasses, from someone who wears glasses everyday:

- glasses need to come off before changing a shirt, unless it has a really big collar. Otherwise, glasses will get ripped off by said shirt collar.

- weather will affect how well you can see out of them, especially rain. Raindrops will dot glasses and it’s like trying to drive a car in the rain without working windshield wipers. Snow sometimes does this too, but not as bad, and lots of dust kicking up will make glasses dirty and foggy. If it’s humid enough (talking like swampy, Deep South levels, weather app says “90-100% humidity”), glasses will fog up when you step outside. If it’s crazy windy, glasses can fly off and the character should hold onto them or take them off and put them somewhere safe. They’ll usually get dirty or break in a pants pocket, so maybe have character carry around a sturdy glasses case if needed.

- not all materials are good for wiping glasses off. Some shirt materials just make it worse.

- if your character’s glasses are super dirty or smudged, they will be able to see it 24/7 as they look around and it’s annoying af.

- although glasses can keep things from getting in a character’s eyes (like something that’s been sprayed), it doesn’t protect our eyes all the time, especially if it’s coming at an angle or there’s a large amount. For that, you’d need actual safety glasses or goggles (and yes, they do make prescription goggles, but they’re not cheap).

- speaking of waves, for the love of god, DO NOT have your character swim with their glasses on. At best, they’ll get wet and they won’t be able to see. At worst, if they’re forced underwater or an ocean wave smacks them in the face, they’ll fly off and/or break.

- a crack in glasses is actually annoying af and makes it very hard to see.

- if a character’s face is wet, like from sweat or a ton of rain, their glasses will continuously slide down their nose and they’ll need to keep pushing them back up.

- lots of liquids other than water will make glasses opaque.

- glasses should be fitted pretty well to a person’s head. So if the character’s face is dry or there’s a moderate amount of wind, the “legs” that go behind their ears should be tight enough that they don’t just constantly fly off or slip down their nose. If they do, they’re too big (but obviously something a tornado will make them fly off).

- although I hate the whole “they took off their glasses and now they’re a ✨ model ✨” trope, people do tend to look very different with glasses on vs off - especially a character like Harry Potter who constantly wears their glasses. It’s not unrealistic that people who don’t know the character well (or even those who do, but just aren’t as quick) won’t recognize them at first without their glasses.

- as far as I know (correct me if I’m wrong, but I’ve never been able to do this), if a lens pops out of the frames, it can’t be popped back in by non-professionals without the right tools. The glasses are just done for.

- if your character has contacts in (or this is a psa for anyone who wears contacts), DO NOT have them rub their eyes. The contact will pop out and they’re very translucent and tiny, so trust me, it will just fall and be lost forever.

- being able to see clearly out of one eye and not the other (like with a broken/missing lens or a contact falling out) causes headaches.

- glasses are expensive af in the US (idk about other places). One time when I didn’t have vision insurance, an eye exam and two frames with lenses (I have blue eyes and very extreme light sensitivity, so have to have prescription sun glasses as well as regular glasses) cost over $900USD. If you want the special frames that become tinted and basically turn into sunglasses when you walk outside, it will cost extra.

- speaking of those lenses that become tinted when you walk outside, they take awhile to fade back to normal after you go back inside. Your character needs to be prepared to still be “wearing” sunglasses for the first 5-10 minutes after they walk inside.

- if a character is wearing contacts, they can wear normal sunglasses. If not, they’ll need special prescription sunglasses to be able to see. You cannot wear prescription sunglasses with contacts in or you won’t be able to see anything. Ever tried to look through your friend’s glasses and everything’s weird and warped and giving you a headache? That’s what it will look like.

- not exactly glasses related, but people with lighter colored eyes will always have worse light sensitivity than people with darker eyes. I have very blue eyes and looking up at the sky on a sunny day will literally make me see stars, and especially if I’m driving towards the sun while it’s setting, I have to have my sunglasses on or I literally will not be able to see and tears will be leaking out my eyes the whole way home.

- speaking of prescription sunglasses, unless your character can see pretty far without their glasses or they’re far sighted, you cannot just take prescription sunglasses off and still be able to see, especially while driving. You just have to deal with it and keep the sunglasses on and look like a Matrix wannabe if it gets cloudy or starts raining, or you have to do the super speedy Dance of Death where you’re still watching the road in front of you, taking off one pair of glasses and putting the other on super fast (which usually requires you to use your mouth to open and close things).

- GLASSES ARE FRAGILE. Seriously, a very petite person could sit in them and snap them in half. They’re not something you want your character just throwing around.

- there are varying levels of how well someone can see. There’s farsightedness and nearsightedness. Some people don’t have that much trouble and can see pretty far, so only wear their glasses as needed. But some people (aka moi) can genuinely only see a few inches in front of their face. Like if I ever lost my glasses or they broke, I’d be done for. I wouldn’t be able to work or drive or do anything around the house.

- glasses need to be replaced about once a year because of possible prescription changes or sometimes lenses losing their strength and becoming harder to see through. Trying to tough it out after long enough will give your character headaches/migraines and sore eyes from eye strain.

- some mascaras (especially thick ones) will smudge glasses when the character blinks. Same with false lashes (although they’ll brush instead of smudge). Usually less intense mascaras and shorter fake lash lengths are better.

- eye makeup is harder to see with glasses on.

- please, please, PLEASE stop using the whole “omg look how much prettier/more attractive they are without their glasses” trope. Not everyone’s eyes can handle contacts and some people prefer wearing their glasses. And it makes those of us who prefer glasses or have to wear them feel like shit, especially because there aren’t a lot of characters with glasses in media who don’t become the butt of a joke (ie the one wearing glasses is the “ugly duckling” for it like in princess diaries, or like Velma from scooby doo always losing them and patting around, or people who wear glasses will always be some sort of dorky/insufferable know it all).

- glasses come in all shapes, sizes, and colors and can be used to actually enhance a character’s style! Some of them even have magnetic frames that click in place over the simple pair, so have fun using glasses to build your character’s style.

- edit to add: no one ever purposely falls asleep with their glasses on. You will crush and break them when you roll around. However, if a character does accidentally fall asleep with them on, a love interest gently taking them off so they don’t wake them up and setting them on the table next to them can be a super cute moment.

- whoops thought of some more. Hair products, especially hairspray, can be a bitch to get off glasses and doesn’t always just rinse off with water. If they’re spraying anything, including dry shampoo, the glasses have gotta come off and get out of the line of fire first.

- hair can and will get caught in the little hinge by the legs and we do occasionally not notice till we take our glasses off and rip a hair out of our heads.

- be careful when you comb or brush, cuz if the glasses legs get caught in the brush or comb, it will be ripped off our face.

Hope this helps! May the writing gods bless your work 🤓

[transboysokka]

ok I know I’m on here either like “omg my body is DYING” or just not saying anything and living a life offline full of exercise etc with little in between

but I realize in the past I’ve posted stuff about how fibromyalgia works but idk if I’ve ever been super specific about what it’s LIKE

So here’s a lil breakdown/faq of stuff that Google might not tell you (obvs this is all specific to me)

ok so what does it feel like?

GIRL first of all I’m ALWAYS in pain. It’s usually centered around my joints and kind of moves around? It’s not always in every place and it’s not always in the same places, but there are a handful of places I kind of know to expect it in one or a few of them. For me it’s worst in my knees. I often get migraines too.

So at the lowest level of pain I can just ignore it. These are the days I’m walking a ton or going on these crazy ass bike rides. I’m still hurting, but it’s whatever. Background noise.

On the worst days…. It often feels like I’m literally on fire. Sometimes I get tingly/numb too. A couple times it’s felt like my legs were just being crushed… it gets VERY bad. Where it hurts to walk but also just to sit.

When I have pain like that, imagine how exhausting that is. Imagine how hard it is to concentrate on anything or hold a conversation or teach a class or have a full time job. And all the while the people you’re talking to see absolutely zero problem with you but you swear that if you look down you’ll see your lower body literally in flames. It makes me feel crazy.

And still I’m trying to live my life around all that and dealing with people making fun of my brain fog or the cane I use for walking sometimes…

what can I do/say to someone dealing with a flare up?

honestly for me personally nothing’s gonna help. but know that if I ever TELL you I’m in pain then that means it’s BAD because I spend all the rest of the time just keeping it to myself. More than anything, I just want you to try to understand how bad it is. Like there are times when I wish I could just stop existing for a minute.

Also if it’s in your control, give me chances to sit. Do activities with me that require me to walk as little as possible, etc. and that’s honestly p much it. Like nothing you say or do is actually gonna help but I just want that kind of support, y’know?

[heyhihellowhatsup0]

I hate to rant about myself on here but lately I’ve just been in a fog where I feel like I’m alone and drowning. My depression has taken such a turn for the worst and I just feel so alone and isolated the last few weeks…I’m pushing everyone away because I’m just filled with so much self hatred and because of that I feel those people officially pulled away and it sucks when I see them having fun without me yet I did it to myself? So idk maybe I deserve it

Anyway I’ll delete this later but I just needed to maybe post this and get some feelings out. I’m just in a pretty dark place these days 🥲

[quiet-in-the-wild]

Absolutely hate that T has caused me to gain weight. Especially where the fat is sitting. I feel like my worst self.

Which I knew fat redistribution would eventually happen but I’ve literally changed nothing to gain this much weight in like a month.

I was feeling so great before- I finally found clothes that fit my weird body type. Which has always been a struggle.

And now nothing fits against and I feel miserable. (Just went clothes shopping)

& what’s worse is I’m going on a trip soon. I want to look nice. & we’re going to a fancy restaurant & I have literally nothing.

Idk what to do. Why is it always so hard. When does it get easy.

This has been such a struggle. I had like 1 month of feeling great & the rest has been so chaotic. And idk what to do. I can’t stop taking T because then the perimenopause symptoms come back & I have unbearable brain fog and fatigue & hot flashes.

I just feel defeated

When I saw myself transitioning I visualized myself as attractive. - because despite the dysphoria before I knew I was attractive before. And now I just see like this fun house mirror of grotesque features when I look at myself and I can’t tell if it is worse to feel this dysmorphia or to feel gender dysphoria I was feeling before

Thankfully my voice caused me the most pain before & that is pretty much how I want it.

But this isn’t how I wanted this to go. & it’s been very invalidating to have such a horrible time on T

[excelsior9173]

today has been a very strange brain day

been oscillating wildly between very depressed and viciously angry

not really sure where any of it has come from

but i think the worst of it all is the not feeling real. idk how else to explain it beyond that. i just do not feel like i am real and currently existing right now. it comes and goes, rolls in like a fog and everything seems so detached. and then it blows out like the sun coming back

objectively i know that this is like, textbook derealization. but acknowledging and accepting that is a very different beast

i’ve known i’m dissociative for a long while now, but i am never quite prepared for how that manifests. i’m either feeling like i’m not real or i’m losing time. neither are very fun. hooray stress!

[neverwritewhatyouknow]

I’ve been trying to draft this out for a while, but it’ll never be good enough for what I want to say, so I’m just gonna post it anyway.

I’ve been thinking a lot and I apologized once last year for my behavior, but I have to do it again. I truly hate what I did. Not all of it, I like that I was able to educate people on antisemitism in Hollywood (a very real issue even if I have it a bad rep) and shine a light on Black Jews and harmful stereotypes in media, and other more academic-minded stuff. But the rest of what I posted, I hate.

When I first starting posting on here about RWRB it was during what was honest to god the worst time of my life. A period I’m still trying to get passed. I faced numerous, intense personal tragedies within a very short amount of time and it trigged my already present (but never terrible up to this point) bipolar depression. I spent the better part of 2 or 3 years swinging wildly from manic stages to the darkest lows. When I would post on here I thought I was doing it with a crystal clear head. I would think “I’ve never been this sharp before” … and it was because I wasn’t, not even close. But you don’t realize that until way afterwards. Maybe I knew subconsciously and it was a form of self-harm, idk, but I thought what I was doing was good and just and right. I thought I was in control of my own actions. It was only once I began to heal and (for lack of better term) snap awake, that I could see what I had done. While I do think maybe my heart for advocacy was in the right place, everything else had gone way too far, way too wrong, way too bad. I wasn’t in control or in my right mind. I’m not using my mental health as an excuse for what I did, because I can’t excuse it like that, but just to explain why I did.

I’m not too proud to admit when I’ve made a mistake. And I made a huge one. I should never have used this account like I did. I’m deeply ashamed and remorseful and every other word I can think of to describe the nauseating, dark, sick feeling I get in my stomach whenever I think back or even open this app. I was wrong. That’s a fact. It’s something I couldn’t see then, couldn’t even imagine thinking then, but it’s so painfully obvious.

Like last time and always, my biggest apologies go to Rachel. Someone who was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was never about her. Rachel is such a talented actress and good person and I hate that at any point I may have hurt her. She deserves my apology. At some point I will be working on getting an apology through to her via her team, but that will take more planning and email contacts that I don’t have right now. But she deserves a direct apology and I want to give her one.

I know I’m talking vaguely and have purged some of my posts, so just in case anyone sees this and has no clue what happened, in the plainest terms: In my deranged quest to prove that they had changed Nora’s ethnicity in the movie, I had severely overstepped into posting about Rachel. There was never anything negative about her race. Never anything racist. I know how the internet thinks and people will assume that’s what it is when they see me apologizing to her, but no, it’s because I overstepped, I shouldn’t have involved her in this. I shouldn’t have done it at all, but I def shouldn’t have involved her.

I also apologize to the crew of the movie, various members, for anything I hurled their way. I can’t say I remember everything, because its like my memories are a mess of haze and fog and too dark to see anymore, but I know that I said things I shouldn’t have and I apologize for it.

The truth is, we’ll never know why the movie made the choices it did. I shouldn’t have demanded to know. I shouldn’t have taken my own anger at myself and the world, out on others. Even if I didn’t realize at the time that I was.

This will haunt me for the rest of my life. I made terrible choices. Acted in ways that make me so ashamed. I want to be a person I can be proud of, and I am not proud of the person I was. I’m not proud of my actions. I am not proud of any of it. But I’m honest and when I make a mistake I own up to it, always. This account, my actions regarding RWRB, everything surrounding it, these are my biggest mistakes.

I don’t think these words will ever really express how sorry I feel. How sorry I am. But this all started on here with some blog posts, so it’s fitting that my apologies are here too.

Just know, I really believe what I did was stupid, harmful, hurtful, obsessive, rude, and just plain wrong.

I’m glad to be on the other side now, able to look back at my behavior and see it more clearly. I hope that the educational things I taught stay with everyone and are able to help you in the future, but I hope in time that we all can accept what I did with RWRB as the mistake it was. One that I deeply regret and wish I could go back and never do.

[maester-of-spreadsheets]

Okay, despite being gleeful all week, I do have some thoughts/musings on IWTV and fandom commentary on ableist tropes. Probably will get a little spicy idk

So pretty much since the episode dropped on streaming platforms, I’ve seen people hoping Daniel still has Parkinson’s despite being turned and that it will be ableist if most or all of the symptoms are ameliorated (the terminal illness aspect is already gone.)

And well….. I really fundamentally and completely disagree with this.

I get why people are wary about miracle cure storylines. Truly I am. I love FMA but I think it’s obnoxious that everyone gets their disabilities wiped away at the end of the plot.

But … but but but but. I have an invisible illness myself. Started up late 2017, is mostly just annoying, but it interrupts my sleep every single night without fail. The cumulative lack of sleep leads to constant fatigue and the subsequent brain fog. It’s had a cascading considerable ripple effect across my whole life. Through a lot of trial and effort I’ve come to build a life I’m increasingly happy with. I’ve come to be very proud of how much I can do despite it all. I have greater internal strength than I realized.

And if someone offered me a miracle tomorrow even with a terrible trade off I’d take it. I’d take it even if it was only 3 full nights of sleep a week instead of 7. I’d take it in a heartbeat.

Now, Daniel……… clearly didn’t get to make that informed decision lol. Knowing what Armand is like. But he is super hype at the end of the show and I get it. I get it.

The worst symptom (which, again, is DEATH) is gone. Even if he has some of the other symptoms the worst one is gone gone GONE. Of course he’s ecstatic. Throughout the series he’s loudly and repeatedly said he wanted a cure. Hell, he explicitly says as much to Armand. His manic joy at the end is just so…….

Also it’s not actually a cure. He’s largely traded Parkinson’s for a host of other terrible things I.e. now the sun will kill him, he’s eventually going to see his daughters die (which he’s worried about before). He can’t taste nachos anymore for Christ’s sake.

If the quality of the writing remains up to par than this isn’t going to be the story of someone who had a redo button pushed on their disability. The trade off is enormous and we’re bound to see the negative side of vampirism with him.

In addition, this isn’t a like … Glee-tier style portrayal of a disability. Daniel isn’t sequestered from the main plot except for a few special episodes about how sad and inspirational he is. He has a lot of other things going for him (I wrote a whole post about this.) He’s also very vocal about how much it all sucks and he wants to feel better. You also see a lot of the mundane stuff you have to do with doctors and meds etc. The only thing we didn’t get was a depiction of the fairly common experience of him crying and screaming in a car because nothing exists that will make him feel better and confronting that yet again after being on the 15 minute conveyor belt in and out of the doctor’s office.

Not that I’ve been there or anything.

(I also thought I was alone in this until I started reading personal essays about invisible illness and kept coming across scenes like it.)

There’s a lot of reasons to be wary of disability rep in fiction. Right there with you. Totally get wanting to see stories of disabled joy.

But … I’m not there yet. I might never be. For me, the disability rep that currently resonates with me most is a miracle cure narrative. It’s the biblical story of the woman who can’t stop bleeding. Who touches Jesus’s robes to try and get a cure. And she does. But the cure is secondary to me. It’s what comes before; the desperation, the isolation, the mention that she spent all her money on doctors that didn’t help. It’s bleak, but it’s also an emotion I recognize in myself. That parable was clearly written with very real emotion involved and I can feel people in similar straits over the millennia reaching out to me through it. This too is yuri a disability narrative.

And yes it gives me comfort. Invisible illnesses can be very isolating, and many people have dark nights of the soul where you wonder if it’s going to be worth it carrying on like this, what you’d trade to get your old life back (if I do get it back…. I won’t actually because these years have changed me.) You learn a lot about the depths of your desperation and the heights of your strength. And yeah, that’s what I’ve felt through Daniel’s narrative.

He’s a weird fucking dude with a different illness than me but (not to use this word again) a specificity to his depiction that actually makes him feel way more relatable to me than inspiration porn or corporatized Pride ™️. And I can’t stress how much I apparently needed that. The care in his character has me curious to see what comes next. There’s a trust there that they’ll continue mining this side of his character even if the symptoms have changed. I just really highly doubt we will get something as blithe about it as FMA. Future Daniel will probably have moments as harrowing as All’s Well by Mona Awad (which I haven’t finished yet despite plodding away through it for years because it’s so accurate about chronic pain it makes me cry. But it explores miracle cures as an unsettling fever dream. The excitable anger that comes along when you have Good Days and can really contemplate how much goddamn bullshit you’ve been through.)

And yeah I …. Don’t know how to end this. Maybe I’ll just quote Pain Woman Takes Your Keys:

This raises the question of which woman is a better writer—me in pain or me without. The pain-woman speaks in a pared-down voice; she is a dreamy laser. You can’t tell her a single thing. She has room for only one emergency. She has to creep slowly and hold onto the backs of chairs as she moves, but she has a strange superpower. She cares more about the vulnerable soft flesh of everyone than my normal busy pre-pain self. She aches in slow motion for everyone’s crumbling life. She sees dead bodies wrapped in skin, sees the present moment as death in reverse. She is in a kind of ecstasy—not the way we understand the word as joy, but the older definition in Webster’s Dictionary: “an emotional or religious frenzy or trancelike state, originally one involving a mystic sense of self-transcendence.”

And then there was a day, a quiet landmark on the couch: the first day that I realized I wasn’t depressed because I was in pain. I realized my mood could separate from the bad news broadcasted by my nerves. I was okay in here, in terrible pain, but alive and watching it. Pain explodes, over and over. It’s also super tiring. And then I need food and sleep.

Later tonight I’ll get depressed because I have lesson plans to do, and I want to be more than this ecstatic, shattered, staring beast looking at the swirls. But for now, I see swirls, and I feel the weather in my bones. And I am two bodies, and one is the history of me. And the other is a lava-lamp Ghost Girl with a new voice I have to listen to—no, more than listen to. She wants the keyboard, and she doesn’t care about the life I had before she was born.

[littlelambdrgnfly]

It’s been so long since I’ve posted any kind of explicit diaper content, idk if y’all actually want that anymore. 😅 I have that pinned post, but I don’t want to scar anyone who just stumbled across my blog and thought it was something normal. I ought to post more of it every so often so no one gets too surprised. 😂

I’m still dealing with health issues, which turns out to be directly related to environmental issues. Namely, my new apartment has mold and I’m extremely allergic. Like, to the point where I’m having asthma attacks just walking upstairs. The thing of it is, I think I’ve actually been suffering from a mild mold allergy for the past year, and that’s why it’s been impossible for me to write. (Yep, just that and absolutely nothing to do with me lol.) I’ve been dealing with a lot of fatigue and brain fog, but I just assumed it was due to other stuff. Now that I’m in a new place, I realize that a lot of the problems I’ve been dealing with just got ramped up to 100. This truly has been one of the worst years of my life, and we’ve still got seven weeks to go. But at the very least, now I know what’s wrong and hopefully it means that a new chapter isn’t too far off in the future.

[diamanties]

you drew stars around my scars, but now i’m bleeding

SUMMARY - your relationship with natasha had been perfect from the start. she had been distant lately, but you knew she’d never cheat on you, right?

WARNINGS - dark!natasha, cheating, abuse, slapping

AUTHORS NOTE- reposting this one on this blog as its probably my fave fic i’ve wrote idk

Natasha had been more distant than usual lately, and she always somehow had a different excuse for her absence. They were believable enough for you, her poor wife, to fall for them and so Natasha could get away with her lies. Again. She knew living two lives wasn't ideal, one with you and your two shared kids in your shared family home, the home she would come home to every single nigh for dinner and affection, and the lie she lived whenever she supposedly left for work. You knew that when you accepted her proposal, most of her time would be spent at her company, and you were okay with that, as you were promised her love at the end of the day.

Everything was just perfect only a few weeks ago, but recently, everything had got too much for Natasha. But she loved you, and that was all that mattered, right? You had a simple schedule. Natasha would leave for work and bark orders at you like you were just a house maid, and with your mind fogged up by your love for her, you would comply everytime. The orders were mostly easy. Make dinner, wash the clothes, clean the dishes, raise the kids. That was the one that really got to you.Your kids looked up to Natasha as if she was a god. They loved her to pieces, so they took it very hard when you had to sweetly explain to your two young kids who didn't know any better about how their mama wouldn't be around as much, and comforting them through their soft cries for their mother. That was the worst part. They thought she was an angel that fell from heaven, and it took a heavy toll on you when you realised they blamed everything on you.

Some nights Natasha didn't even come home, and couldn't be bothered to tell you until the morning and leave you on edge and restless all night. And the nights she did, weren't any better. She would join you for dinner with the kids, and entertain them with a softness no one else ever saw. A softness she used to use with you. When she would decide she had enough of her dinner, she'd take the kids to their bedroom and tuck them in. After she'd come and join in once you had washed the dishes, and act like everything was how it was before.

The spark wasn't completely gone, and she took advantage of that. She took advantage of the hold she had over you, and wrapped you around her finger. That was how it always went. Natasha's absence turned you into a new person. Sure, you were still the same person, but were you really? Her harshness changed your appearance over the years, and soon you become unrecognisable. All your friends warned you about Natasha and you ignored them, but now all you wished for was to go back and listen. It isn't like Natasha doesn't love you, she just doesn't how the best ways of showing it, that's all.

So When Natasha started to come home later than usual, your suspicions grew, but you know she loves you, and that's all that matters."I'm gonna be home late again, baby." Natasha confessed one night when you were finishing your dinner after the kids went up. Natasha didn't know how to put it, so she was just straight up. She knew her words would affect you for the worse whichever way she put it, so she didn't stall any longer.

"What? Why?" You knew to expect this. All you wanted to know was why. Surely work couldn't be so important that she had to say overtime almost every single day? But even if something was different, you'd never be able to tell through Natasha's poker face. You were sure Natasha could lie with anything and get away with it. In fact, most of what she'd promised you were probably all lies, but you'd never be able to tell with her. "Carols asked me to stay late again.. something about unfinished paperwork. You know how busy the company gets sometimes. I'm sorry, baby."

You nodded. Her excuses were always something you couldn't say no to, but they were always painfully obvious that it wasn't the full truth: but even if you questioned her on it, she would become fully defensive and shut you out, accuse you of not believing her. "You don't believe your own wife?" She always had a way of making you feel guilty, it was almost like she was made to manipulate you. Maybe she was. Maybe she enjoyed the way you cried yourself to sleep over her, or how your revelled in the pain her harsh words gave you. Maybe it made her feel powerful. Even though Natasha had a way with her words, she would never lay a hand on you. She promised to the grave.

"Oh. Okay." You continued to poke at your food, and Natasha noticed your discomfort. "I'm sorry, babygirl. I know you hate when i have to work late. But you need to understand, without this i wouldn't be able to buy you all the luxuries i know you love." This was what Natasha always did. Guilt-trip you into believing her and bathing in the comfort she gave you. After that night, you knew Natasha was lying about her work. It was painfully obvious, but it wasn't like you would ever act up on it.

The thought of upsetting Natasha was a hard one you hated to think about, for two reasons: firstly, what Natasha would do. The woman didn't take accusations about her lightly, and would do anything and everything to clear her name. And by anything, literally everything. Secondly, you could never dream of leaving Natasha. She provided you with everything a girl could ever need: a lovely home, children, money, all the luxuries and the world, love and comfort.

Natasha could be sweet when she wanted to be, but only to you and the kids. No-one would ever believe you if you told them about the complete different woman Natasha became with her children. They loved her to the moon and back, and more. And that was what hurt. She was their role model, because they only saw one side of her. The confident, strong loving mother, completely different to the one the rest of the world saw. Oh well. They would find out when they were old enough, if she was still even present then.

Again, another night came where you were alone with just the bottle of expensive champagne stored in the back of the cupboard, waiting for Natasha to return. But what you didn't know, was that this would possibly be the worst night of your life so far. But without Natasha by your side and your side only, you didn't know any better. She was the only comfort you had, and the only calloused hand you could hold onto. You had stayed up all night, the alcohol taking effect on you as you cried for your wife.

So when you finally heard her keys jingle in the door, you were happy. Happy that your wife could give you the comfort only she could. But when you heard giggles from a woman you had never met in person but who's voice you knew, you immediately froze. Natasha hushed the woman as she quietly closed the door behind them, and it wasn't long before the woman's hands were around Natasha's neck loosely, pulling her in for a seemingly passionate kiss, which meant absolutely nothing to the red-head. But would you know in your distressed state? Of course not. So there you stood, watching silently from further down the hallway with a straight face as Natasha slipped her tongue into the other woman's mouth.

The woman moaned loudly, and Natasha immediately cursed her out. The former spy followed her instincts and quickly eyed the hallway, freezing when her eyes met your own teary ones. "Baby.." Natasha turned to you, the other woman quickly reciprocating her actions. Natasha's first instinct was to kick the woman out, and that was what she did. With the woman gone, there was nothing else to say. Natasha ran over to you, cradling your small body in her muscular arms that could crush you without a second thought.

"Don't.. don't touch me." You managed to try and whisper out, and get yourself of her embrace. Luckily for you, her grip was surprising loose and it was easier then you expected. You weren't in a mood to fight with her today after what you'd just seen, but you knew you had to. Everything was clear to you now. It was so obvious before, how could you not see through Natasha's act.  Before, love clouded your senses for the woman, and now, it was all worse."I thought you loved me."

Natasha gave you a look that made you feel almost stupid and like a child, like it was the most obvious thing in the whole world. Natasha almost felt pity for you. After all these years of marriage, you never thought she could betray you like this. In reality, Natasha could not care less about this, you would always and forever be hers because she was in control. And she will destroy anything in her path for it to stay that way. It's almost funny, really. If anyone were to disrespect or upset you, Natasha would do anything to make the person who hurt you's life a living hell, literally. She could do to the end of the world to protect you, to keep you safe in her grasp.

Maybe that was the problem. Maybe she isn't as safe as you initially thought. Natasha's a hypocrite. All these promises to protect you, when she's the one causing you the most harm. If someone were to bring her up on this, they wouldn't live to see another day. You were Natasha's baby, and she would fight until the end to keep you as hers. To make sure you could never escape.

"Don't be stupid, of course i do, baby. She means absolutely nothing to me. You and i till' the end, doll." Natasha's statement angered you, the way she thought that would make every thing she's done to you better. Her tone of voice made you shiver, but the look ok her face of hoax comfort put you in distress.  You were to far gone to think anymore, and Natasha revelled in that.

This was her plan from the start. To pull you so far, just to grab you back so you were good for nothing but her and only her. So from all the pain you received, all you wanted was comfort, and you would welcome her back into your heart with open arms, and you would become one perfect family again. As Natasha had planned, all the distress she caused you out you in a bad mindset, but she never thought it would cause you to lash out. "You make me feel so fucking stupid! Like I'm actually crazy or something!" You ran your hands through your hair, panicking as your breathing rate on died and trashed. Loud sobs escaped your lips as you shook and cried further. Sure, you might've upset her with your words, but you didn't actually realise the extent. 

A loud crack invaded the quiet hall, and you didn't feel the harsh sting on your numb cheek until Natasha pulled back. She had slapped you. Hard. Your eyes caught sight of her bloody palms, and the dog in your brain cleared out like a pathway. The pain quickly became more evident as your cheek throbbed and you fell to your knees. Your sobs grew louder as you folded up on the floor, hiding your head between your legs, forgetting about the young children residing upstairs. Your body shook and your limbs ached, but you couldn't think  about that.

You couldn't think about anything except Natasha's calloused hands. Red with blood. Your blood. It took a moment to register in your brain Natasha's actions, and what she had promised not to do when your marriage was still pure. Natasha truly didn't mean for it to happen, the anger and rage she felt just got to her head and she couldn't control herself. She crouched down on the wooden floor to join you, gently moving your hands out of your face to stroke your cheek with her deadly ones. She smiled softly in faux concern which you believed in your state of mind. More tears escaped onto your mascara stained cheeks, and all the red-head could do was shush you to be quiet. It didn't work.

Natasha froze when she heard the thuds of small feet making their way down the stairs. She quickly rose to go check on her daughters, cursing you for being so loud. Natasha was already waiting at the bottom step when your youngest daughter appeared. She rubbed her eyes, smiling gleefully when she saw Natasha.

"Mama!" Natasha immediately picked the little girl up, placing a small kiss on her face as she giggled. She rocked the young girl in her arms, sighing as she heard you go completely silently, hugging her daughter closer. "I'm sorry, baby. Did we wake you?"

The little girl nodded, and Natasha frowned. This wasn't a part of her plan. She didn't know how your little family would recover from here, but she knew it would. Well, it was her choice, you had no say in it. Really, all she wanted was the best for your little girls, and she knew she was the only one who could give them that. The stress of being a single parent would be too much for you, and she would never dare to leave you. Everything would be perfect in her mind. She would have you safe, just how she wanted you.

"Is mommy okay?" The little girl babbled, and Natasha smiled. "Mommy will be okay, baby. She's just a little upset right now," she continued to rock the young girl in her arms, humming a familiar lullaby to her daughter which made her smile a toothy grin. "Right, it's time you get back to bed, isn't it little love? Want me to tuck you in?"  The girl babbled in Natasha's arms, and the former spy held her closer. "Good girl, Cmon let's get you back to bed."

Once Natasha had her daughter back in bed and safe, she could refocus her attention back on you. She quietly made her way back down the stairs, unsurprised to see you still in the exact same position from where she left you. She crouched back down, seeing the dried tear stains on your link cheeks nearly made her cold heart break. Natasha used little effort to pick you up and rest you in her arms bridal style, carrying you up to your shared bedroom. She closed the door gently behind you, letting go when she heard the soft click of the lock. She rested you on the bed and you complied, too far gone to fight back.

No words had been said since she took you up to bed, but she wasn't complaining. She didn't need any added stress. Natasha left you on the bed to go brush her teeth, and when she looked up in the mirror, a sadist grin was resting on her face. It wasn't that she was happy that she hurt you, it was just that she finally had you where she wanted you. And now she could give you what you wanted to her full potential, you just had to let her in.

[soulwillower]

housesitting •  richie tozier

(richie tozier x reader)

requested: no

had this in my drafts and figured i’d finish it and post it, sorry for being away, but idk if i’ll keep writing! hope you enjoy, i’ll prob still come back and update/post fics on this account on occasion. love u guys lots and i hope you’re all doing okay <3333

warnings: drinking, unprotected sex, oral (fem and male receiving), light deepthroating/face fucking, praise kink, degradation, use of the words slut, whore, etc, suuuper unedited

(losers + reader are 21+.)

4.7k words

♡

the moment you stepped back into your flat, dropping your bag heavily on the ground with a sigh, you finally felt like you could breathe. 

today and yesterday had been a nightmare - you and your roommate bill had gone home, planning to stay for a week with family and friends back home. 

you'd spent the first night out with old friends at the bar enjoying yourselves and  you'd even gone home with a handsome boy you'd had a crush on in high school. but just as he was about to go down on you, after you'd gone down on him despite how terrible his b.o. was, he said he wouldn’t because it was 'gross.' 

you hate to admit but you were slightly tipsy and horny, so you still stayed for ten minutes of awful, boring missionary before he fell asleep. then when you'd left in the uber, a voice message from your boss threatened to fire you if you didn't come in and finish a project - so you had to scramble for a flight home, leaving bill back with your friends in maine for a few days, and now you're just ready for a shower, a nicely packed bowl, and a large dinner. 

because good god, that was an awful trip. 

"hello?" you call, rubbing your eyes as you walk towards your kitchen, wondering if your roommate's best friend was still here - he was supposed to stay and take care of the apartment while you were away. 

but instead, your eyes landed on a complete mess in the kitchen; solo cups everywhere, trash, empty chip bags, furniture moved and counters sticky from spilt beer. 

"what the fuck?" you project, eyes landing on the figure who walks into the kitchen, towel hanging low on his hips as water drips from wet, shaggy curls of hair. you meet the bright eyes of richie tozier, your roommate’s best friend. 

he looks like a deer in headlights, his glasses slightly fogged as he blinks his eyes owlishly and you swear his eye lashes tangle together as he blinks. "oh, hey y/n, why are you here?" 

and honestly, richie has always made your fingers tingle and your abdomen clench when he so much as looks at you, despite bill’s groaning and glaring when you refer to him as ‘hot friend number one.’ (he had a lot of hot friends). 

but you’re wound up, stressed, frustrated, and exhausted so all you can do is look from the boy to the mess and then back, stunned, "this is my apartment." 

he chuckles, wiping a drip of water off of his chest. you have to fight to look away, feeling burning from irritation and also something else as your chest heaves. you're just so tired, and this boy who you don't know very well has trashed your place and maybe even had a party and you just want to smoke and go to bed and- 

"say, what are you doing back so soon, toots? thought i had the place to myself for the next five days." he says too casually, grinning like he's catching up with an old friend. his hand runs through his wet hair, droplets rolling down his bare skin and causing you to fight the urge to keep your eyes on his face.

you shake your head. "richie, why does my kitchen look like a scene from dexter?" you say, trying to keep yourself calm. 

he tilts his head in an irksome, handsome way that makes you want to scream, "pretty sure dexter was....murdering murderers, not slamming smirnoff at three am."  "clean it up! what gives you the nerve to have a party in someone else's fucking apartment? while they're gone?!" you yell, throwing your hands in the air. richie shrugs uncomfortably and you're briefly in shock at how much faith richie is putting in the small tuck he's made with the towel, barely keeping up on in his waist. he laughs somewhat nervously, "sheesh, doll, it would've been cleaned by sunday, you just surprised me and almost gave me a heart attack while i was in the shower. bill told me we could throw at your place as long as we were responsible." he sounds pretty genuine, but you're just so tightly wound and frustrated.

"well this," you gesture to your place, "is not responsible." you glare, "i'm going to shower. i've had a long fucking day, and when i get out the place better be fucking spotless and you better be gone. i'm not asking." you snap. 

he grins as you push past him, turning to watch you storm towards the bathroom with an apologetic grimace on his face. 

- 

you took as long as you could in the shower, savoring every warm drop until you stepped out of your bathroom, expecting to see an empty apartment. 

"what are you staring at?" the boy with the curls mutters as he fixes the wine glass he'd placed on the counter. you're pretty speechless as you look around, wondering how richie had managed to get your place more clean and inviting than how you'd left it. dishes are all clean, put away, the counters spotless; the oven is set with a timer for two hours, and the smell of lasagna invites your nose with a rumble of your stomach. two glasses of wine are poured, sitting at the counter as richie chews on his lip anxiously, hair glinting in the dark mood lighting from the lamp near the window. 

"i felt bad. you seem like you had a long day and i didn't mean to make it worse." he admits. 

you step forward, suddenly feeling hot as you watch him, his jaw clenched slightly and sharper than you remember it. he's actually really fucking beautiful, you realize. 

"you didn't have to do all this." you say, biting your lip as you take the wine glass from his hand. 

"i know." he says with a cocky smirk. your face feels hot as you watch him slide out the stools by your breakfast bar, sitting down and sipping on his own wine. 

with a smile, you sit next to him. he was always the friend of bills that made you the most flustered - he's a tall, loud, garish bartender who spends most his time doing stand up at the clubs on the weekends even though he studied applied mathematics in school. he's the kind of boy that everybody has a crush on, because he's got that dorky yet beautiful sculpt; dark, curly locks, pale skin with a splattering of bright freckles. his eyes pierce yours whenever you're in the same room and his grin makes your stomach flip on it's head. 

"so, why'd you come back early?" richie asks as he takes a sip, eyes staring at you brightly from behind the rim of the glass. you huff a small bitter laugh, "my boss told me i had to come back because we're understaffed. told me the extra hours are 'building charater' or something. but i was having a shitty trip anyways, so i may as well just volunteer my time." 

he laughs, muttering, "good girl. doin' the lords work." you almost laugh but his words have heat sent straight between your legs and you can't tind words, suddenly in a state of shock. oh, god, this wine is getting to you.

richie's always been so hot, you're not surprised that one casual phrase had you so frantic like this. you blink, richie muttering, "y/n?" gently. 

you shake your head, snapping to look at him, "y-yeah? sorry, i just- what did you say?" you're embarrassed. you're embarrassed because richie didn't even mean it like that and you didn't expect to like being called that by him and you're embarrassed because he knows now, god look at his smirk, you're done for. 

"i asked why your trip was shit." he says simply, smirk on his face causing your face to heat up even more. you sigh, eyeing him, "i tried to enjoy myself and then i have the worst hookup experience of my life. then i came back to a messy apartment." you admit, shaking your head as richie pours you both another glass of wine, "the worst? that's a shame. what'd he do, throw up on you?" 

you laugh, "no, nothing like that. he was a minute man, and he refused to..." you shake your head, wondering why you're admitting this to a guy you barely know. you've never hung out one-on-one before with him.  "-he made me do all the work. and then he fell asleep. the worst part is, i've liked him since high school." you admit, dropping your face into your hands as richie lets out a chuckle. 

richie's shaking his head, "see, those types are the ones who just shouldn't be allowed in the gene pool. lazy. missin' out on all the fun, especially with a gal like you." he says with a wink. you laugh, face feeling hot. "i'm no fun." you say bashfully. 

richie raises his brows with a grin, his smile making you melt, heat pooling in between your legs from the way he runs his fingers across the rim of his glass. "i highly doubt that, doll." 

his eyes dip down in a not-so-subtle way as he takes in your body, biting his lip and making you clear your throat with a heated face. "sorry you had to put up with a guy who couldn't fuck you the right way. and that your boss also fucked you. and that i ruined your night." 

you shake your head, "i just had so much pent up stress from the last few days." he's eyeing you, and you wonder if he wants to fuck you as bad as you want to be fucked right now. would bill kill you? yeah, he would, but richie is so damn fine and you were left so high and dry last night that you’re just about ready to jump onto his lap. 

as if reading your mind, richie hums, "bill's still in maine, yeah?" he asks casually, eyes fluttering to the timer on the oven that ready an hour. 

you nod, "yeah, he's actually hanging out with the guy i hooked up with tonight." you say with a light huff. richie groans a laugh, "no fuckin' way. i promise, not all of bill's friends are bad at sex." richie says with a grin, and you laugh. "you sure about that?" 

he hums, eyeing you but not responding. 

“guess i’ll just have to find out.” you say boldly, butterflies fluttering in your chest when richie shoots you a deep look, slicking his lips through a smile. he hums, "so i don't get it, what was so bad about it?" 

you sigh, "he wouldn't go down on me. said he was 'too tired' and ‘too much work’ then he wanted to lay down so i rode him for, like, five minutes and then he fell asleep." 

richie's laughing, and you swat his arm as your face burns, "it's not funny! it's humiliating, richie." 

he snorts, standing up to place your empty glasses in the sink, recycling the empty bottle. "sorry, doll. that's just shit. he should've at least had the decency to make you cum." 

you almost choke on your spit at his bluntness, face blossoming and thighs tingling. "y-yeah." 

"anyways, i can get going, if you'd like. guess i’m done being the house sitter. the lasagna will be done in an hour or so." he says with a nod, eyes staring at yours fiercely. you hum, standing up as richie walks closer. "or you could stay." you say, looking up at him from where he stands in front of you. 

"you lonely or somethin', doll?" he rumbles lowly, lifting a brow. biting your lip, you swallow, "something like that." you say, lifting a challenging brow. 

“so if it was stan here, or mike...” he starts, walking towards you until he’s close enough that you’re afraid he can hear your heart thump, “you’d want them to stay?” 

you swallow dryly, “if bill lived with someone else, would you want to stay?” his smirk makes you clench your thighs. his long fingers raise and curl around your jaw, tilting your head back before tucking hair behind your ear. you swallow roughly, his hands are so big. his rings that he wears are thick and ice cold and feel so good against your warm face. 

your heart pounds as he smirks, eyes challenging you. the waiting is killing you.

"you've got a pretty mouth." he whispers, sending shocks all around your body. "y-you've got a pretty everything." you stutter out, feeling extremely flustered and suddenly shy. "thanks, honey." he says with a laugh, making you feel even more bashful.  

"y'know..." he drawls, hand settled on your neck, caressing your jaw, "i've wanted you since i first saw you." 

you can't help the whimper as it falls from your lips. it's a small, shy noise of need and it makes richie beam a beautiful, sexy grin that has your knees weak. "please..." you whimper, eyes staring at his, the suspense making you anxious with need. 

"please what?" he asks quietly, clearly loving the tense air. you almost roll your eyes, "kiss me." you say, rushed. 

he pulls away slightly, giving you a stern look. “please.” he says, smirk creeping onto his face. you burn in slight humiliation because he knows what he’s doing. 

“please kiss me, richie.” you finally say, swallowing.

"good girl." he says with a smirk and you feel like you're burning up under his gaze. but then he’s leaning in and his lips are on yours and wow, richie is a good kisser. he’s pulling you towards him tightly, hungrily; his teeth bite gently at your lower lip as his tongue swipes your own, pulling you into him. he was needy in the way he kissed you, a dominance in him that you're not surprised to find. you craved it, you craved him; and then he's pushing you back, up onto the stool as he moves between your legs. 

his mouth is then marking your neck, claiming you, and you love it, the feeling of his teeth against your warm skin, the sweetness of his smile against you.

his hands brush up your thighs and past the hem of your shorts, legs spread so he’s pressed flush against you, his bulge so close to where you want him. "richie," you let out a mangled whimper, hair knotting in his soft curls. he laughs, lips finding your ear, "always wondered how you'd sound when i had you like this," he says quietly, "can't wait to hear what pretty noises you make when i'm inside you." 

his fingers find the damp seat of your panties, dancing across it and making your legs shake with anticipation and neediness. you’re already a soaked, mewling mess as you grasp for him, hungry and needy and you want him closer, closer. 

he pulls you off the stool, then, and you both stare at each other for a moment. he almost dies at the state of you; already fucked-out, hair mussed up and still wet, your eyes lidded and your lips kiss-swollen. 

you can’t believe your eyes, richie’s curly hair fluffy from being freshly washed, the taste of wine on his lips, the freckles, the collarbone peeking from his collar, the smirk that could melt black ice. he looks like he could tear you apart. you hope he will. 

“you’re hot.” you blurt. 

he rushes at you again, melding your lips together with a searing hot kiss as he shoves you backwards towards the bedrooms. 

"bill told me to stay away from you," richie says as he walks you down the hall, your feet nearly stumbling and shaky as you walk backwards, lips seeking his every moment, "he said i'd ruin you." he adds. 

you lift a brow, too flustered to say anything as you stare up at richie, inhaling sharply as his hand trails down to cup your ass lightly, still walking backwards. "he knows how pretty i think you are. how hot, how... perfect." he whispers into the skin of your neck, raising goosebumps. "but i want to fuck you so well you forget your name. i don't care about what bill wants." 

you look at him, desperate and needy. "i don't give a fuck what bill says. i want you, please." you say, pawing richie and kissing him needily. richie’s leaving dark love bites on the column of your neck and you know it's wrong, and you shouldn't, but you let him kick open the door into bill's room, guiding you to bill’s bed instead of yours. “please, wan’ you so bad,” you pant, the needy throbbing getting unbearable, desperate for some release. 

“how bad, pretty girl?” he asks, smoothing down your hair. biting your lip, you sit on the bed, eyes level with the zipper of his pants. the sight of you staring up at him from below his hard, clothed cock makes his pants feel even tighter and he hums, "you sure?" 

you nod enthusiastically, "wanna make you feel good, please." he lets out a soft noise as your hands go to pull down his fly, “filthy girl." he says lowly, making heat drip from your core. you shift, trying to relieve some pressure. you feel hot when you realize you want him to degrade you, that you love it. “god, say that again.” you moan, mouthing around his bulge. his hands come to caress your face, watching you, 

"you like being my little whore, huh? so good just for me. bet you’ve thought of my cock in your mouth before, haven’t you?" 

you nod, biting your lip. he grins and you’re moving to pull him out of his pants, trying to conceal your shocked face as you take in his size. your cheeks heat up, hand grazing his length and meeting his own hand as he pumps himself a few times, lining his tip up to your lips. 

“open.” he says simply and you comply willingly, laying your tongue out. he’s teasing his cock on your tongue and you’re whining, desperate to feel him in your mouth, to make him feel good. 

“just wait until i say so, baby.” he says, slapping your tongue lightly with his cock and making you shift on your legs, dripping wet.

he groans, one hand coming to hold your head softly, making you tingle. you watch as he stares at you, lips parted and eyes blown wide. his cock is glistening with precum as it lays on your tongue. “suck my cock pretty girl.” he mutters, caressing your cheek. so you close your lips, slowly sucking on his tip before taking a bit more, moving your head slowly. 

you lick a stripe up the base of his cock and up to his tip, swirling your tongue. he groans in relief and pleasure as you take as much of him into your mouth as possible slowly, bobbing your head and taking as much in as you can. he’s bigger than anyone you’ve been with before, and the need to feel him inside you and to make him fall apart has you taking him as deep as you can.

you take him deeper, your eyes clouding with tears as you try not to gag and he hums, hands pulling your hair from your eyes - you can tell he’s straining not to buck his hips as you bob up and down on him.

“god, you feel so good, y/n.” he groans. you pull back, sucking on his tip as you swirl your tongue, catching your breath. his hands fall to your head and he gently, slowly thrusts his hips slightly. you gag, mouth wet as he pulls out of your mouth and wipes the trails of spit from your lips. “do it again, please.” you gasp, and he grins. “such a  slut.” 

he guides your face back to him, “tap me three times if it’s too much.” you take him in again, holding as long as you can and loving the way he’s thrusting into your mouth. he groans, both hands on your head, his chest rising and falling shakily.

"god, that’s so perfect. my good little toy.” he rumbles and your chest flutters. you feel him twitch and you sense he may be close, so you start to bob your head again.

he stops you, "no, pretty girl. i'm going to cum inside of you, okay?" you swallow, mouth dry, "okay." please. 

he sinks to his knees, gently pushing you so you're laying down on the bed again, pulling your legs so they hang off the side of the mattress. he's pulling your shorts off, your underwear following as he spreads your legs wider, kissing your thighs. “look at that pretty pussy. soaked, all for me.”

you're breathing shakily as one finger rises to gently rub your slit, making you moan softly. his touch is feathery-light, teasing you and making you whine, moving your hips. "shhh." he says softly, bringing his tongue to lick up your slit. you moan out, relieved to have some sort of satisfaction. richie's hand moves up to push up your top, thumbing your nipples as he starts to suck your clit. he pins your hips down, "be a good slut and stay still for me." he says, burying his face as your toes start to curl in pleasure, the burning sensation of pleasure increasing. 

he rubs circles into your hips with one hand as he slides two fingers into your heat, making you whimper, his fingers start to pick up pace as he continues to circle your clit with his tongue. his long fingers curl up inside of you, still pushing into you fast and rough, hitting your g-spot. you moan, “richie, harder, please.”

he hums, lifting his head as you gasp for breath, "since you asked so nicely, doin' everything i say." his fingers are moving again, faster than before. his tongue runs over your clit, practically moaning into your heat, fingers moving faster. you moan unabashedly, feeling yourself clench and knowing you're about to cum. your legs wrap around his shoulders as your hips move slightly, 

“cum on my tongue like a good little slut, okay baby?” he says gently. you moan, eyes shutting as you see stars. you're hitting your high and then richie's watching you, praising you as you fall apart, letting out soft whimpers. 

then you're sitting up as he rises from his knees, licking his lips. pulling him into a searing kiss, he crawls on top of you, rutting into you a few times before pulling back. 

he's pulling himself out of his pants and you swallow around your words, resisting the shocked face that threatens to creep on to you when you see how big he is. you moan as you watch him pump himself, pulling off his shirt as you pull off your own. 

he grins as he looks at you, "so good for me, my little slut. you want me to fuck you now?" he asks and you eagerly pull yourself up to your elbows, "yes, please, rich, fuck me." 

he hums, pushing his cock against your slit, the tip rubbing your sensitive clit and making you moan sharply. he continues to tease you, one hand on his cock and the other holding your waist. "use me, please." you whisper in his ear, hand holding him to you from the back of his neck. 

he lets out a sharp breath, hand snaking to your neck and pushing you back onto the mattress. "you want me to use you?" he asks, thrusting against you slowly, teasing your slit. "like my little plaything?" 

"yes, god, richie, please-" but then he's sliding into you all at once, his large cock stretching you as he moves his hips, sheathing into you. you feel so full that all you can do is gasp, richie kissing your forehead as his hand rests on your throat. "gonna fuck you on bill's bed, okay? and you're gonna be good for me, right? my good little cockslut." 

you nod yes, "so good for you." you say, and he smiles. he starts to pull out, easing back in and starting a shallow rhythm, getting you used to his size. you're euphoric as he starts to languidly pump into you, one hand on your neck and the other on your chest, palming your tit. 

he starts thrusting into you, picking up speed - rough and fast. his hips buck up against you, pulling back fully before filling you up. his thumb gently grazes your sensitive clit and you grip his bare back, raking your nails down in pleasure. "do you walk around thinking of how it'd feel to get fucked by me, baby?" he whispers in your ear as he pounds you into the mattress. you moan, "yes, r-rich, i've wanted you for s-so long," you trail off into a moan. "feels so good." you mutter, panting, words babbling from your mouth incoherently. 

you barely have a warning before you cum a second time, clenching so hard that richie's hips sstutter, his moan ringing with your own. he looks down at you, thumb trailing into your open mouth, you eagerly sucking on it like a lollipop. "god, you're so tight, doll. such a good little whore for me. i bet you'd let me do anything to you, anywhere." 

your legs are shaking as he keeps thrusting you through your orgasm, feeling sensitive and euphoric. he smirks, "yeah? bet you'd let me fuck you anywhere, just my little fuck toy. so perfect for me." 

you nod, kissing him needily, tears from oversensitivity pricking your eyes. "want you filling me up richie, feels so good." 

"anywhere?" he asks, eyebrows knit in pleasure as he fucks into you. he's so possesive, it makes your face warm. you nod, "anywhere." 

he's smirking, and you know he's thinking about how shocked bill would be if he found out. it makes it that much hotter as you turn and see the picture of bill and richie on the wall near the door. 

then richie pulls out of you and you're being flipped onto your knees, richie's large hand pushing your face towards the soft sheets. you can't help the moans that escape you as he spits onto your dripping cunt, fingers playing with your used pussy as you moan, sensitive and still desperate. "pretty baby, all fucked out. can you take one more?" he asks, hands roaming your ass. you nod, yelping gently when a hand smacks down on your ass. 

"can you take one more?" he asks. "yes!" you moan into the mattress with need. he mutters, "good girl." as he pushes into you, the new angle making you moan loudly. with every thrust, he pushes you down on the mattress, making you grip against the edge of it with pleasure. one of his hands drops down to rub your clit, and you buck needily against his touch. after only a few minutes, the combination of the snap of his hips, the few slaps on your ass, and his hands on your clit push you over the edge, clenching around his cock as you whimper. your legs barely stay up after you cum, and his arm wraps around you to hold you as he pounds into you, chasing his own high. 

"yes, my pretty girl, so good." he praises again, hips speeding up. you think he's close because his breathing is faster, hands gripping your hips hard as he kisses down your spine, "take it." he whispers onto your back as he finally cums, pulling out and finishing on your ass and lower back, moaning lightly. 

you can't believe what just happened as richie disappears, returning at the speed of light with a damp washcloth to clean you off. you blush at how sweet the gesture is before he falls next to you on the bed, sighing. "i'll be honest, i didn't expect that." 

you laugh, "neither did i. i thought i was coming home to an empty apartment and some microwave ramen." 

he's staring at you, a smirk on his face, “i'd apologize again but holy fuck, you look so pretty when you cum.” you don't know what to say, feeling hot as you roll your eyes with a grin. he laughs and kisses you, “you’re cute, you know.” 

"says you." you mutter against his lips. you thank god bill won't be back soon as you watch his best friend rise, naked, from beside you and grab a spare hoodie and gym shorts from bill's closet, throwing them on before handing you his own shirt to wear.

"so, lasagna?" he asks, glasses askew slightly. you laugh as you stand on shaky legs, "it's the least you could do." you joke. 

tag list:  @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings @stenbrozier  @sft-core @clownsloveyou  @moon-shine-baby  @daughter-of-the-stars11 @trashedfortozier @oceandog13 @chl0bee  @kait16xo @upamongthestarss @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @diorbubs @leighjaenikhowell @groovybimbo @deepestofwaters  @unfortu-nate-ly @sassy-uris @loverloserrr @hauntingkaspbrak @soph-ec @hockslutter @babytortie  @decafcoffeew @etaerealboy

[usmsgutterson]

The Halloweek of Angst: DAY FIVE

Forever- Jesper Fahey

I didn’t do Jesper justice with the first fic I wrote for him with this event. I’ve so far piped out blurbs/blurb adjacent things because my brain just,, decided it was blurb time? idk, but here’s day five, and the second last day of the Halloweek event wherein the fics aren’t ones that involve Kaz! I did try my best to make this one angst but it ended up being more hurt/comfort-y with some adorable “i would die for you” type confessions because its friday and because who doesn’t love an “I would die for you” type confession??

The crows are around 22 in this one!

Fic type- hurt/comfort with a fluffy-ish ending

Warnings- mentions of death, blood, stitches, chest tubes and just general medical supplies including needles, a medical thread, and medical tape

The air in Ketterdam was as it always tended to be in the final days before a storm. It was thick, the fog almost thicker, making it borderline impossible to see. Still, Jesper moved forward, knowing the route to the Slat from Fifth Harbor like he knew the back of his own hand. 

In one hand, Jesper held a rifle. His other was clutching the strap of the satchel that crossed from his left shoulder to his right hip, making sure that it wouldn’t be so much as at risk of falling or slipping off of his frame. The contents of the satchel were too important, one of them too reactive to water, to risk allowing the crossbody satchel to get any water near the bottom of it, where most of the supplies rested.

The moment he reached the Slat, breathing in a breath of relief, Wylan was at his side. 

“Did you get it?”

“Why you needed an ingredient that was reactive to water is something I would very much appreciate knowing,” Jesper said, spinning the revolver on his finger before he tucked it back into its holster. He took the bag off, passing it to Wylan and feeling relieved that the specific, fabrikator made material wasn’t his responsibility anymore. 

“Making a bomb,” Wylan said. “I don’t know how they’ll use it, but I was asked to you by the love of your life, who, rather unfortunately, isn’t doing as well as Nina hoped they would be by now. No healers are in the area, but Nina is doing the best she can. I’ll just get the material I need from the satchel, and you can take the rest of it up.” 

Wylan grabbed what he needed. Jesper took the rest of it upstairs, heading into your room without a second thought, passing the satchel to Nina as he sat at the end of the bed.

“Their heart is beating still,” Nina said. “The less severe of their wounds have been healed, and I’ve managed to get the more severe ones to stop bleeding. You got everything?”

“Gauze, medical thread, a few needles, a chest tube if it’s needed, some whiskey to disinfect. I would’ve gotten proper rubbing alcohol, but it seems that the fog and the storm have caused quite a few medical emergencies. I couldn’t find any in the shops.” 

Nina shrugged. “Whiskey works. You’re welcome to stay, if you want.” 

“Do you happen to know why Y/N wanted Wylan to build them a bomb?” 

“They want revenge, Jes. They want to kill their assailants. Why?” 

Jesper shrugged. “Eh, bit of mundane curiosity, the smallest of urges to kill their assailants myself, nothing worthy of note,” he said. “If they don’t make it, there’ll be no question about me using the bomb, right?”

Nina shook her head. “Nah. Revenge for the death of someone who was practically your soulmate? Seems only fair. You gonna stay or go?” 

Jesper sighed, glanced at you once more. “I think I’m gonna grab a drink, perhaps. The moment you have an update--”

Nina cut him off by nodding, giving Jesper a look as though to say that doing so was common sense, and though a large part of him wanted to stay, there was an even larger part of him that would experience one of the worlds worst heartbreaks in staying. There was to be pain in seeing you getting stitched up because two idiots had decided to make you their target, knowing that you would wake up in pain because of your wounds and still, you’d be up, trying to go out and fight the bastards even despite Nina and Inejs insistence that you rest. 

So, he left, feeling some part of his heart break whilst the other began the process of drowning in guilt for doing so as he went. 

He didn’t want you to die, but he couldn’t bare to see Nina make sure you lived. Such a thing was one that was going to eat him up inside, and he resented himself for it.  

--

Two hours later, Jesper heard a familiar set of footsteps heading down the stairs. He glanced at Wylan, who’d been sitting to his right, and Wylan only grinned. 

“An explosion will occur in the East Stave no later than midnight,” he said. “I’ll get Kaz to plant the bomb. It’s out of his way, but he’s the only one of us who needs to leave the Slat tonight. He can make himself useful in the regard of revenge.” 

With the words, Wylan got up, and not ten seconds later, you took his spot, ordering a round of brandy like it was just another goddamn Tuesday. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t--”

“You’re finnicky about blood and death in the general sense. You don’t need to apologize. I get it. I’m just glad that you stayed, didn’t go out seeking your vengeance.” 

“I almost did,” Jesper admitted. Rarely did he think to kill someone else, but it seemed that when it came to you, he was willing to kill a thousand people if it meant that the revenge Jesper had been seeking had been found. “Wylans gonna get the bomb to Kaz, and at worst, your assailants will be severely injured.”

“No, at worst, they won’t have been there at all,” you said. “But I do owe him my thanks. I owe you my thanks, as well.” 

“You have nothing to thank me for.”

“The medical supplies that saved my life?” You spoke. “The whiskey that cleaned my wounds? Was it someone else who got those, or was it you, the only man willing to move through the thickest fog Nina Zenik had ever seen, just to make sure I had so much as a chance at making it out of the attack doing at least decently?” 

“I--” Jesper had done that. He’d done it because you were the love of his life, and the thought of losing you was terrifying, much less the reality that’d faced him two hours before, the reality that you would’ve died had Nina not sent him off.

“The thought of losing you is one that I simply can’t stomach. I know that we’re in Ketterdam, and I should expect to be confronted with the fact that losing you in this town is incredibly easy, considering the amount of enemies that the Dregs has as a whole, but every time that you dance toe to toe with death, I will do whatever I can to make sure you stay alive. You are the love of my life, Y/N. I refuse to lose you to a couple idiots who think that they’re brave by trying to get you killed.” 

“Jesper, I--” you cut yourself off, knowing that you felt the exact same way that Jesper did. You been in love with Jesper Fahey for five years. Five years had been spent loving him, and it was as a direct result of such that you knew that you were willing to kill someone who so much as made a threat on his life. You would’ve died if it meant he lived, and such feelings were ones you’d not felt toward anyone else. You could’ve died the following day and you would’ve died happy, knowing that you’d loved Jesper Fahey and he’d loved you in return. 

Jesper stood, and the moment you followed suit, he pulled you into a hug. He let himself be glad that you’d still been alive, told you that he loved you and mentally promised never to stop doing so. 

He pulled away just enough to press a kiss to your forehead, and as he did, you breathed in his scent. Bourbon, gunpowder, and woodsmoke. It made you smile without realizing that you’d done so, and as he pulled away, hand still linked in yours, you caught yourself in the smile, but allowed it, for you were looking at the man you’d love forever. 

[hanniiesuckle17]

Stray Kids Reaction: S/o Has a Migraine and Can’t Sleep

A/n: I had a super bad headache last night so I just came up with this. Sry for the lack of og content! I’m working on a big request rn! (btw this is not edited so sorry for mistakes)

Warnings: maybe a couple curse words? nudity? idk its chill

Bangchan:

You had been prone to get migraines every now and then. As a result, you often didn’t sleep very well. Tonight was just one of those nights. It was a particularly bad one. You wanted to scream it hurt so much, but Chan was sleeping peacefully beside you. This was the third time this month. You didn’t want to wake him up again.

Slowly, you got out of bed. It seemed every movement only made the pain worse. You started to get dizzy. Bracing yourself against your closet, you sighed and rubbed your temples. “Chan...” You felt terrible about waking him up, but you needed help. “Channie...babe?” You said a little louder. He shot up in bed.

“I'm up. I'm up.” He looked around the dark room until he saw you by the closet. He rubbed his eyes and jumped out of bed. “Is it your head, baby?” He asked, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. You nodded and Chan gave you a tired smile. 

Carefully he picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. Your head dropped onto his shoulder as you tried to ignore the sharp pain coming from the top of your head. Chan carried you into the bathroom and closed the door with his foot. He carefully set you on the counter and the flicked on the lights. “Ahh!” You yelped, clutching your head.

“Sorry! Sorry! I forgot!” Chan said, flipping the light switch back off. Chan turned the shower all the way to hot and let the steam fill up the room. He kissed your cheek before leaving the bathroom, closing the door behind him. The mirror fogged with steam and the pressure in your head started to subside little by little.

Chan softly knocked on the door before entering again. By now steam was setting into the room like a mist. Sweat beaded on both your foreheads and the glass Chan held in his hand. Your boyfriend came to stand between your legs, his hand rubbing up and down your thigh. 

“Drink some water, baby girl.” You took the glass, his hand staying nearby in case you dropped it. After you drank all the water, you leaned your head against Chan’s shoulder letting him rub your back. 

“I’m so sorry that it hurts, Y/n.” He whispered, kissing the top of your head.

Minho:

Work had been seriously stressing you out lately. So much so that Minho went to sleep before you did. You were doing your best to work through the splitting headache you had but it was impossible. Deciding to give up, you trudged to bed. However, laying down only seemed to make it worse. 

Minho was sleeping soundly beside you, completely oblivious to your pain. You did your best to fall asleep. But it felt like someone was taking a jackhammer to the side of your skull. “Minho,” You said shaking your boyfriend. “Minho, please wake up.” You said clutching your head in pain. He groaned and rolled over, sleepily glaring at you.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“My head is killing me. Fuck...It hurts so much I feel like I’m gonna be sick.” You said trying not to cry. Minho looked around, brows furrowing and then back at you.

“Well....what do you want me to do about it?” I sighed and slapped his shoulder, making him yelp. “Okay! Okay! Sheesh.” Minho stumbled out of your shared bed and shuffled sleepily down the hall. He came back a few minutes later with a bag of frozen peas and water. 

“Peas?”

“Sorry, we were out of brussels sprouts.” He said helping you hold the freezing bag to your head. He watched you drink the water and lazily rubbed your thigh as he sat next to you. You knew he didn’t mean to be rude. He was just sleepy. 

“I’m sorry I woke you up,”

“Don’t apologize.” He said, taking your hand in his. Minho felt the back of your neck, only to pull away at the temperature. He gently took the bag of peas from you and transferred it, pushing your hair out of the way. “I don’t like seeing you in pain.” Minho leaned forward and pressed his lips against yours. Your boyfriend sat with you half asleep until the migraine finally went away.

Changbin:

You were very stressed. Stressed was an understatement. There wasn’t a word for how much pressure you were under. You had been pushing it all down and just telling yourself it would all be over soon. However, it had started to affect your sleep. You would get these splitting headaches anytime you lied down. 

Changbin lounged across your couch scrolling through his phone, probably ordering the food you had talked about earlier. “I can pay for it this time, Bin.” You said running a hand through your hair. Your boyfriend shook his head, throwing his phone on the couch.

“Nonsense. I’m paying. Come here, baby. You look really stressed. Lie down for a minute.” You shook your head. You knew if you lied down, the pain which was already starting to throb against your skull would get worse. “Y/n, I’m gonna make you lie down if you don’t come over here.” Again you shook your head and turned, trying to find something to occupy your tired mind and body.

Changbin sighed and pushed himself off the sofa. He wrapped you in his arms and dragged you down onto the couch, your head laying on the cushions. He backed away when you cried out in pain. “Changbin, I told you I didn’t want to lie down!” You said clutching your head. 

“Baby, I’m sorry! What’s wrong?” You shook your head, pain throbbing.

“It’s nothing. It’ll pass....eventually.”

“No, you’re hurting. Tell me what I can do.”

You tried to push past the swelling and throbbing. “Umm....uh...in my bedroom. The nightstand- in the drawer there is a little glass bottle. It’s brown and green.” Changbin nodded and got off the couch. 

You could hear him rummaging through the drawer looking for one of the bottles of essential oils you had. The doorbell rang, making you cry out from the sound. “I’ve got it, baby! Hold on!” Changbin said rushing to the door. Quietly he thanked the delivery guy and placed the food on the table.

“Is this why you haven’t been sleeping?” He asked handing me the bottle of peppermint oil. Nodding, I opened it and rubbed some of the oil on my temples. The pain started to fade away very slowly. Changbin wrapped and arm around me, pulling me into his chest. “Baby, you’ve got to tell me when you’re hurting so I can help.”

Hyunjin:

Today was not your day. Nothing seemed to be going right. On top of all that you were beginning to worry about money problems. There wasn’t enough in your savings to start paying off your student loans and no matter how much your boyfriend tried you wouldn’t let him pay for the entire rent of your shared apartment. 

Your shifts were getting cut back all week so you were struggling to come up with the money for rent, let alone something for Hyunjin’s birthday at the end of the week. Your boyfriend was still at rehearsal, giving you time to look at your finances without him offering to pay every eight seconds. Your brain was pulsing against your skull. 

You gave up after the pain started making words float off the bank statement you were reading. You switched off all the lights and rubbed your temples. The pain was only getting worse. Not having the energy to walk to your bedroom you just laid down on the cool wood floor in your living room. 

“Y/n? Hey, gorgeous! I’m home!” Hyunjin called out. The sound of his keys dropping in the dish made you clutch your head and whimper. You heard him walk over to the kitchen table and sigh when he saw the papers. “Babe, I told you not to worry about all this....Y/n?” He called out again.

“Y/N!” He yelped seeing you on the floor.

“Ahh...Jinnie...please be quiet. My head...” He nodded and carefully lowered himself onto the floor, laying on his stomach. “Hyunjin, what are you doing?” You said rubbing your eyes. Another sharp pain erupted from the top of your head, making you wince. 

“I don’t really know how to help...so I’m just being here if you need me.” 

If you didn’t feel so horrible you would kiss him. Gently he stroked your hair and sat against the couch. His arms wrapped around you pulling you into his lap, apologizing profusely when you whimpered in pain. “Thank you, baby.” You whispered into his chest.

“Please let me pay for the rent, gorgeous. I don’t want you hurting like this.” He kissed your forehead when you nodded the tiniest bit.

Jisung:

This had not been your week. Everything seemed to be going wrong and fighting with your mom was the last straw. Jisung was set to be at the studio until late so you just cried. And maybe screamed...a little. You just let it all out until your entire body hurt from crying. It wasn’t the healthiest option, but it was healthier than keeping it all in.

The sound of the lock turning from the front door sent you shooting up from the couch and wiping your tears. A splitting pain shot through your head, making you wince, but you smiled seeing your boyfriend come home early. “Jisung, I didn’t expect you to come home for like...another four hours.”

“I missed you baby.” He said kissing your forehead. You tried to hide how much it hurt and quickly pecked his lips. After having dinner together and getting ready for bed, the pain in your head just kept getting worst. Jisung quickly fell asleep, but you lay tossing and turning next to him.

You stared up at the ceiling hours later, listening to the snores coming from your boyfriend beside you. Every way you turned hurt and the pain was so much that you wanted to cry. “Baby, what’s wrong?” Jisung asked drowsily after you gave up and sat against the backboard, clutching your head.

“Ji, it hurts...” 

He sat up, still half asleep, and wiped a few straggling tears. “What hurts, baby? What is it?” He tried to blink the heaviness away from his eyes. His tired eyes softened seeing you in pain.

“My head. It hurts so bad.” Without saying another word, Jisung got up from his side of the bed and walked around to yours. Gently he picked you up in his arms and carried you to the bathroom. Not bothering to turn on the lights your boyfriend carefully and sleepily set you on the counter, placing a kiss on your cheek. 

He turned on the shower, steam filling the room. With slow tired movements, he helped you undress before doing so himself. Tenderly Jisung carried you under the hot water and let you stand there, hands braced against the cold tile. His arms wrapped around your waist and he buried his face in your neck.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” He muttered against your skin. 

The hot water was helping relieve the pressure in your brain, easing some of the pain. Jisung placed sleepy kisses on your shoulder, rubbing slow patterns on your stomach as the steaming water fell over you both. After a while, you turned around and buried your face in his neck. 

He stayed under the water with you until the pain had subsided.

Felix:

Sweat dripped down your neck. It felt like a thousand shards of glass were pressing against your brain. Felix was sleeping deeply beside you, laying on his stomach. His skin was cool to the touch compared to how hot your forehead felt. You couldn’t sleep. Every time you tried to get comfortable your head seemed to hurt even more. 

“Fuck...” You whispered clutching your head. 

You rested your head on Felix’s shoulder, letting his cool skin press against your head. It only helped a little bit, but you just focused on listening to your boyfriend’s slow breathing. Your hand pressed against his bare back, letting the coolness try and calm you. 

He stirred when he felt you wince. “Y/n, darling, what’s wrong?” He asked his deep voice slurring. He rolled over and you sat up in bed. He pulled you down onto his chest, his fingers gently stroking your hair. “Why aren’t you sleeping, baby?”

You winced feeling another jab of pain. “My head hurts too much.” His movement stopped and he moved his hand away, choosing to place it on your shoulder instead. “Felix, it hurts.” 

He nodded and carefully got out of bed, resting you against the headboard, “I know, darling.” He whispered. “I’ll be right back.” You watched your boyfriend walk out into the hall. A few seconds later you heard the thermostat kick in, making the room cooler. He returned with a glass of water, a wet cloth, and a pill bottle. 

“Here, take this.” He said handing you two pills and the glass of water. While you swallowed the medicine, he gently pressed the cloth to your head, pulling you into his lap. You rested your head against his shoulder, letting the cold cloth soothe the pain. “Drink the whole thing, darling. It will help.” 

Nodding you tipped the glass a little further, hearing the chunks of ice clink against the side of the cup. Felix moved the cloth to the back of your neck. Another sharp pain in your forehead made you wince. You pressed the cold glass to your skin and sighed. “Thank you, Lix.” You muttered before drinking more of the water. He gave you a sleepy smile and pulled you close.

“No problem at all, Y/n.”

Seungmin:

Seungmin knew that you tended to get migraines when you were stressed. It had happened ever since you were in high school. You could practically feel a headache coming on. It wasn’t too late at night, but you would usually have been asleep at this time. 

Knowing it was going to get worse any second, you went to the bathroom and checked for the medicine you needed. When you reached for the bottle you found it empty. Sharp pain in your temples made you brace yourself against the sink. “Oh, shit...”You whispered feeling sick to your stomach. Without your meds, the migraine would only get worse. 

The pain got exponentially worse, sending you to lean over the toilet, wrenching the contents of your stomach. You reached for your phone, dialing your boyfriend’s number.

“Y/n, hi! I’m just leaving JYP. What’s up, cutie?” Seungmin answered happily.

“Um...I’m having a little bit of an issue.” Another throbbing sensation pulsed throughout your skull. “Min can you pick me up some meds. I’m out and I need them.”

“Yeah, of course. Hold tight. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Seungmin hung up the phone. You flushed the toilet and tried to clean yourself up. The pain was getting worse and worse. Dragging yourself to the kitchen, you grabbed the first bag you saw in the freezer, holding it to your head.

“Y/n?” Seungmin called out into the dark apartment. 

“In the kitchen, babe.” The sound of Seungmin’s footsteps echoed through the space. You felt sure arms wrap around your stomach. Turning your head, you were met with his lips on yours. 

“I’ve got meds and I picked up coffee on the way.” He whispered pecking your lips again. “Salted Caramel Cream Cold Brew with extra ice just for you.” You cupped his cheek, mustering up a smile. 

“Thank you so much, Min.” He handed you the coffee and the meds knowing you would feel better after having both.

“Always, Y/n. Anytime you need me.”

Jeongin:

Of course, you had to get a migraine right now. The one-time Jeongin was staying over. Carefully you got up from the bed, not wanting to wake your boyfriend. While you were no stranger to migraines and headaches, you hadn’t had one in a significant amount of time.

Tiptoeing into your bathroom you opened the medicine cabinet. You didn’t bother turning on the light knowing it would just make the pain worse. Your tired hands searched through the cabinet only to find that you were out of the pills you needed. 

A cry escaped your lips as the pain jumped higher. Quickly you covered your mouth, hoping that the sound didn’t wake Jeongin. Clutching your head, you grabbed a washcloth and dowsed it in cold water. Folding it, you placed it over your forehead and slid down the bathroom wall. 

Slow tears escaped as the pain spiked at random times. You let your body fall onto the floor and you curled your knees into your chest, holding the cold cloth to your head. The cool tile pressed against your cheek, easing the pain only a little bit.

“Y/n?” You heard Jeongin call softly. “Y/n, where are you? Are you okay, honey?” You winced, feeling another spike in pain.

“I’m in here, Innie.” You said weakly. You heard footsteps pad across the carpet of your bedroom until you saw the shadow of his figure from under the door. He politely knocked on the door. “You can come in, babe.” He opened the door, looking around before he found you on the floor.

“Y/n, what’s wrong?” He said crouching on the floor and pushing a few pieces of wet hair out of your face. He immediately retracted his hand when you winced. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you-”

“No, Innie. It’s not your fault.” He relaxed and sat against the wall reaching for your hand. “I just get really bad migraines sometimes. I didn’t want to wake you.” He rubbed his thumb across your skin.

“Y/n you can always wake me up if you need me.” Carefully, he pulled me into his lap and didn’t even shy away when the other side of the cold washcloth pressed against his neck. “What can I do to help?”

“I’m out of the medicine I need. Could you run to the pharmacy and get some?” He nodded and slowly got up before taking the empty bottle and leaving the apartment. About twenty minutes later he came back and gave you the pills. Jeongin sat with you in his lap as the both of you waited for your pain to go away.

Requests are open my lovelies!! Just send an ask! <3

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[sunshineseung]

Brats // Jeongchan

💌 Info: Stray Kids Bang Chan x Stray Kids I.N x female!reader smut 💕 Includes: Threesome, dom!chan x sub!jeongin+reader, DDLG/B (daddy dom little girl/boy), spanking, degradation, handcuffs, pussy/cock worship, begging, orgasm denial, vibrator play, other stuff idk a lot, okay??? ✏️ Word Count: ~3k

"I'm home!" Chan barked from the entrance of the apartment, patiently awaiting the appearance of his two partners. He hung his coat up, set down his belongings, and still, no sign of them. At this point, Chan was getting a bit angry. He woke up late, work had been stressful, and the last thing he needed was Jeongin and Y/n to be acting out of line.

While Chan made his way to the spare room that acted as the "playroom", he heard light moans and wet noises coming from inside. His blood was boiling, and the veins in his arms stood at attention. He put his ear up to the playroom door attempting to be as quiet as possible. Just as he expected, feminine and masculine mewls were coming from his boyfriend and girlfriend.

Inside the playroom, Jeongin and you were... busy. Y/n had her hand wrapped around Jeongin's member while Jeongin's fingers played with her clit. They were letting out the sweetest moans, but they knew they were breaking Chan's rules; his rules would be hard to forget since they were written on a poster on the wall of the playroom.

"Jeongin, please hurry up!" Your moans got louder as you bucked into your youngest boyfriend's hand. "I think daddy's gonna be home soon!"

"I-I'm close too, Y/n, ah-, so k-keep going." He threw his head back in pleasure, hardly able to speak. The mixed sounds of pleasure coming from the playroom made Chan transition from his usual, soft self to the hard dom that Jeongin and Y/n feared.

The door to the playroom flies open, and they immediately remove their hands from each other while Chan stands in the doorway clenching his fists. Your heart drops, and Jeongin starts to panic. He attempts to slip his cock back into his shorts, but it's too late. Daddy was pissed.

"Breaking rules while I was at work, huh?" Chan stomps towards the two, taking off his belt and whipping it into his hands. "So, who wants to be punished first?"

"We're sorry, Daddy! We really are!" You beg for forgiveness, but Chan had his mind made. He always hated being disobeyed, but he loved to punish. Chan sits down on a wooden chair and pats his lap while making eye contact with you. You look back at Jeongin before laying face-down on Chan's lap.

"Count for me, princess," Chan coos as he pulls your skirt down to your knees. He harshly smacks your bare ass with his belt, earning a yelp from you.

"One."

"Two."

"Three."

Jeongin's watching with watering eyes glued to your ass, and he notices Chan's evil smirk as he bruises your ass. The entire time he watched, he knew he was next, and the idea of getting punished made him harder than he was before.

Without realizing it, Jeongin's hand presses against his clothed member to give him the smallest bit of stimulation. His shorts get tighter and his hand moves up and down his length, and the entire time, he was imagining his hand was yours. Before long, a gentle groan escape's Jeongin's throat, which commands the attention of Chan.

"Eighteen."

"Wait, babygirl, did you hear that?" Chan plays it up, putting his hand to his ear. "Was that a needy little boy begging for punishment I heard?"

Chan lets you off his lap, you rubbing your ass for relief, and walks towards Jeongin. He kneels in front of the younger and runs his finger up the bulge in Jeongin's pants. Jeongin hisses and his body shakes. The sensation of just a finger feels amazing, and all that's on Jeongin's mind is cumming.

"Please punish me, daddy. I've been bad. I deserve it." Jeongin's head hangs low, and Chan hums in response. His hand takes hold of Jeongin's wrist and pulls him to his feet, shocking the younger. You neatly sit on the floor and wait your turn while Chan throws Jeongin onto the king-sized bed.

"Y/n, get me some toys. I want to play with you two." His words are kind, but you can tell by the dark aura in his eyes that he only has the filthiest intentions. Jeongin lays back on the pillows and spread his legs. While you get a vibrator, blindfold, handcuffs, and ball gag from the drawer, Chan undresses Jeongin until he's fully nude, awaiting anyone's touch. "Thank you, my good girl."

"Yes daddy. Anything for you."

"Now sit on his face."

"W-what?"

"Did I stutter?" Chan's very demanding, and his voice is deeper than you've ever heard. You quickly remove your clothes while being watched by the two boys. You look up to Chan with sparkling eyes before getting onto the bed and positioning your heat over Jeongin's face. "Don't move you two. I'm not done yet."

Chan moves around the bed and fills your mouth with the ball gag. He moves your hands behind your back and handcuffs your wrists. You could already feel the marks being made in the skin of your wrists, and your jaw ached after seconds of the gag being in your mouth. Drool dripped from your mouth while Chan covered Jeongin's eyes with the blindfold. Worst of all, Chan kept the vibrator in his hand, and that scared you the most.

"Jeongin, how much do you love Y/n's pussy?" Chan teased Jeongin's twitching cock with his fingers, giving him the gentlest of touches.

"I love her pussy so much!" Hearing Jeongin's words made you blush, but you couldn't say anything back. You were gagged. "I love how wet she gets, and her pussy is so pretty and sweet. Please let me taste her, daddy."

"Hm, desperate. How cute." Chan chuckled, but all that left you and Jeongin were exhausted pants and groans. "Taste her, pretty boy. One lick is all you get."

Jeongin's tongue paints a rough stripe down your sopping core, and you lean forward, hardly able to hold yourself up on your knees. Your clit was begging to be played with, and Chan loved to see how desperate you both got. Your struggled moans sounded like music to his sadist ears. The wetness from your core drips down onto Jeongin's face, and his cock twitches from the idea of him ruining you without Chan's permission.

The younger male sneaks in another taste of your pussy, and the older is not impressed. Chan grabs Jeongin's cock and squeezes it at the base, the head of his cock becoming red as precum leaks out. Chan hums and bites his lip, hardly able to form words from the pain he's experiencing while his hard cock presses against his tight jeans.

"Such a bad boy today, Jeonginie. What happened to my sweet boy?" Chan leans down and takes Jeongin's cock in his mouth, his tongue swirling around the tip. Jeongin bucks his hips into his mouth and begs for more. "Calm down. Bad boys don't get to cum."

Chan wipes his mouth and gets back up after successfully edging Jeongin right to his limit. You're still positioned over Jeongin, watching your boyfriends pleasure each other in the most sinful way. The ball gag prevents you from saying anything, but you have the urge to beg Chan to let you cum for being such a good girl.

"Babygirl, come down here." You inch your way down the bed on your knees, and Jeongin feels your heat leave his tongue's reach. With a groan, Chan removes your ball gag as you had been hoping. Your jaw hangs open when Chan's hand begins to play with your clit with the vibrator on it's weakest setting. Moans leave your mouth as Chan grits his teeth, his member getting continuously harder and harder. "You're a good girl, right?"

"Yes, I'm your good girl." The words leave your lips as whimpers, hardly even audible, and Chan eats up every bit. Chan removes the vibrator from your heat, but the toy down on the bed, and slowly unbuttons his jeans, pushing them down with his boxers and allowing his cock to spring out. Your mouth waters at the sight of his angry, red cock, begging to be tasted. Your oral fixation has never been so acute. You wanted nothing more than to taste Chan's cock; it's all you could think about. The poor boy laying behind you couldn't even see what you were so obsessed with. "Please let me taste you, daddy."

"Give me a second. Jeongin," Chan barks down to the other boy, "take your blindfold off. I want you to see this." At Chan's command, Jeongin eagerly whisper a light yes daddy as he throws his blindfold off and sits up to see you take Chan's cock in your hand and gently stroke him before gracing him with your tongue. The taste of his precum makes you even thirstier than you were before.

Chan takes your hair in his hand and guides you on his cock, thrusting into your mouth just enough to tease the back of your throat and make you gag. Your mouth fills with spit as you taste his member like you'd been wanting to. You look up at Chan, his mouth agape and eyes half-shut, and you love making your daddy come undone in your mouth. Your mouth traces every vein in his pulsing length as Jeongin watches from behind. The younger boy licks his lips, wishing it was him getting face fucked by Chan.

"You like daddy's cock, huh, princess?" You nod while Chan's cock is still in your mouth, and Chan's eyes get darker as he gazes down at you. He rips his cock out of your mouth, a line of drool breaking when he gets too far away. You pant, but your mouth feels empty. You want more. Your head is fogged by the endless need for Chan's cock. "Tell me how much you love my cock."

You attempt to compose yourself to answer his question, but with his twitching member inches away from your quivering lips, all you can do is whimper and beg a light please. Jeongin watches, his eyes practically bulging out of his head, while Chan chuckles down at your desperate display of neediness.

"Words, princess. Words."

"Mmm daddy," you force out as a moan, "your cock is so good. Let me suck you dry, please."

"Beg more or else it's Jeongin's turn."

Jeongin's ears perk up at the sound of his name, and he flashes Chan his puppy eyes. For a moment, Chan considers turning to the other boy and letting him have his fun, but he wants to give you the chance.

"Please fuck my dirty little whore mouth, daddy. I'll be good for you, I promise. I love your cock so much, sir." Your mind is blank, and the words leave your mouth as if they're second-nature. Chan rubs his tip against your lips, coating them in precum and your spit from before. You groan from the sensation, but you know if you were to open your mouth, he would punish you. As much as he loved the sir you tagged onto the end, his eyes fluttered to Jeongin, eagerly awaiting instruction.

"Well, brats don't get what they want, do they, baby?" Chan pulls his cock away from your face, and you almost cry at the loss of sensation on your mouth. "Show me what you and Jeongin were doing before I walked in, huh? Let me see you break the rules."

"Bu-"

"Daddy's orders. You're not trying to protest against daddy, are you?"

You lay back onto the bed, and Jeongin lays next to you. His hand finds your needy clit again, making circles around the sensitive bud, as you place your hand loosely around his cock and begin stroking up and down at the perfect pace. The sound of your high-pitched moans mixed with the equally high-pitched moans of Jeongin make Chan stroke himself while watching you two. Chan's eyes are fixated on his two little brats pleasuring each other as if he isn't even there.

The knot in your stomach gets tight, and you feel or orgasm approaching even quicker when Jeongin slips a finger in your tight hole. Your grip on his cock gets tighter, and your strokes get more aggressive. He bucks his hips into your hand, and Jeongin shamelessly cums onto your hand, his release watery and light. His pathetic whines echo through the room, and his hand goes limp on your cunt. Your orgasm escapes you, and you feel yourself back at square one until you open your eyes and see Chan's hand intensely jerking off, his eyes meeting yours.

"Did I say you could cum, babyboy?" Jeongin's body fills with fear and Chan removes his hand from his own cock and grabs Jeongin's limp wrist, pulling him up into a sitting position. Their faces are hardly inches away from each other, and you hear Chan whisper to Jeongin, "Did you deserve to cum?"

Chan's demenor is serious, and you can tell he's pissed by the bulging veins in his arms. Jeongin pleads for Chan to let go, but his grip on Jeongin's wrist stays tight.

"No, daddy, no, I shouldn't have came, I'm sorry!"

"Too late for sorries, Jeongin." Chan throws Jeongin back, his head coming into contact with the pillow. Your worried expression meet's Chan's dark eyes, and you gulp out of terror for what he's about to do to you. "You didn't even let Y/n cum."

Chan hovers over you on the bed, his cock drifting near your core, and your breathing stops when his lips collide with yours. You melt into the kiss, allowing Chan to do whatever he pleases with your body. He rubs his member through your folds, paying special attention to your clit.

"So wet, babygirl. All for me, right?" You nod frantically, and Chan smirks at you. He eyes your body, gaze lingering on your chest, and you feel yourself get wetter just from that. "You're such a good girl."

He doesn't seem angry anymore, but you can tell he still has the hard dom inside him from moments ago. He pushes his tip against your cunt, just hard enough to make you whimper, but not hard enough to slide his cock in. You push against him, and you feel yourself stretch when he finally enters you. The lewdest moan escapes your lips when he bottoms out inside you.

Chan leans down, his chest pushing against yours, and whispers every so faintly into your ear, "I'm gonna ruin you, princess." His deep voice makes you clamp your eyes shut and dig your nails into his back. Your hands glide onto his shoulders as he leans back up and vigorously pounds into you, never letting you catch your breath. His cock fills you perfectly, and you feel every indentation of his length rub against your walls.

Chan points behind him to the vibrator, and Jeongin jumps up to get it for his master. Without taking the vibrator out of Jeongin's hand, he motions to your clit, and Jeongin immediately gets the hint. He turns the vibrator on to it's highest setting and presses it against your aching clit, earning a pleasureful scream from you. Every nerve on your body is standing on edge, and your orgasm catches up to you.

"Cum on my cock, my good little girl." Chan's grip on your waist is powerful, and you're eager to follow his instructions. Jeongin presses the vibrator into you even more, occasionally moving the tip in circles around your bud. The sensations from both boys push you over the edge, and oceans of pleasure crash over your shaking body. You spasm around Chan's cock, and he has to slow down so he doesn't cover your pussy in his cum. "Yes, baby, just like that."

He speeds back up once your orgasm is over, and the overstimulation is too much for you to handle... almost. Jeongin removes the vibrator from your clit and begins sucking on your nipples, but you assume Chan had commanded him to do so while your eyes were shut. His tongue works wonders, but Chan's cock feels too good to be true.

Although this isn't your first time with either boy, every time Chan decides to bless you by fucking you until you see stars, it feels like a new experience. The twitching of Chan's cock gets erratic, and his thrusts become sloppy.

"Cum inside me, daddy." Your pleas are needy, and his orgasm gets even closer with every word he hears leave your mouth. "Cum inside your slutty little princess."

Jeongin's stroking himself, also close to the edge, as beads of sweat trickle down Chan's forehead. He's working so hard to keep composure, but your naughty cry and tight cunt compel him to shoot his load inside you. He holds himself deep inside you while he curses from the intensity of his release. You feel his cum fill you up, and when he pulls out, his release drips out of your sopping heat.

"Shower time?" Chan catches his breath, and Jeongin excitedly jumps off the bed and readies the shower. You can't walk, but Chan already knows that without you saying a word. He gathers his self-control and picks you up, carrying you into the bathroom and sitting you on the corner ledge of the shower.

"Jeongin, be a good boy and clean up our girlfriend, please." Chan adds shampoo to his wetted hair as Jeongin applies soap to a washrag and cleanses your body, starting from your legs and going up to your shoulders. When he makes sure Chan isn't looking, he licks the cum out of your pussy, and you giggle from the gesture.

"I love you, Y/n." Jeongin whispers just loud enough for you to hear over the pattering of the shower water.

"I love you too, Jeongin. I love you both so much." You raise your voice in the second sentence, making sure Chan heard you this time. You all share a fair amount of I love yous and compliments, but the overall mood is calm.

"I love you both very much," Chan turns around to face you and Jeongin, "just please stop breaking my rules."

"Yes, daddy!" You say in unison with Jeongin, although you know damn well that you were both bluffing.

this was a request from an “anon” on wattpad :) ty for reading!

[lyssismagical]

evermore

Just a Solid Vent Fic 

I wanna do 30 days of Taylor Swift-inspired fics (folklore and evermore) lmao but idk yet we’ll see lemme know tho 

 *

As a compromise for Tony not being able to pay Peter’s tuition to MIT thanks to his full ride, Tony bought an apartment right beside campus for Peter to live in, to ensure no awkward adventures trying to be Spider-Man with a roommate.

Peter’s still adamant about getting a job and paying for his food, phone bill, and any other things like clothing or entertainment.

And balancing classes, patrolling, and a job, isn’t easy, of course. But it’s always been better for him to work hard than to give himself time to think. It’s not like his mental health is on hold, but it’s easier to put it aside when he’s got so much to do all the time.

It doesn’t help that he’s also on the debate team thanks to MJ, and in the robotics club thanks to Ned.

When November rolls around and it brings the final projects, Peter pushes himself to the limit to keep up with everything.

He starts dropping his sleep to only a nap whenever he can squeeze it in, working all afternoon, classes all morning, and Spider-Man all night, and he starts making up excuses for anything that isn’t a number one priority.

He stops seeing his friends, stops calling May back, stops replying to Tony’s worried texts, stops helping out with his professors or the librarian or his classmates. He stops cleaning his apartment, letting dishes pile up on the counters and laundry go unwashed.

It’s bad, and he knows that, rationally and logically, he knows.

But that doesn’t stop him from doing it anyway.

Three weeks, he tells himself.

And he keeps pushing.

MJ shows up at his apartment out of the blue when he’s studying away, and he barely manages to clear the fog in his head to stumble for the door.

“I can’t talk right now,” he says before she can even say hello. “I’ve gotta study for my physics exam.”

“No, you’ve gotta chill the fuck out.”

He shakes his head, leaving the door open as he turns his back and heads into his kitchen for a quick snack so he can get back to his work. “No, I have to study.”

“Oh my god, you live in a garbage dump,” she says, eyes going wide as she takes in the state of his apartment. “When was the last time you washed a dish? Or, gross, your hair?”

He doesn’t bother responding, rolling his eyes and downing a protein bar. “Two weeks, now, and then I’m done for a month.”

“At this rate, I don’t know if you’ll make it through the next two weeks.”

Peter can’t help but roll his eyes again, part of him hating how much he’s lashing out despite wanting help, needing help, but unable to find the strength to stop it from happening as he brushes past her again.

“I know you’re stressed, I know you’re anxious about exams and papers and labs, but, seriously, Peter?” she says, following him to where he’s working in the living room, papers and binders and textbooks strewn across every surface. “You’re a genius, okay? You’ve been getting excellent grades all year. The only reason you might not do well on these projects is because you’re working yourself to death.”

He shakes his head, feeling very suddenly like he might cry. “It’s not that easy. Just… I don’t want to deal with this right now, okay?”

MJ doesn’t take that as a good answer, though, sitting beside him on the old couch. “I know you, okay? I know you better than most people do. I’ve seen you in some of the worst states you’ve been in. I know this. You can’t pretend that this is okay or normal or that this is you doing fine. I don’t believe it for a second.”

He opens his mouth to fight back, to argue, to try to convince her otherwise, or maybe just to kick her out. But he hesitates.

After the Snap’s reversal, she was the one who devoted all her time to taking care of him. He was such a mess of PTSD and depression and emptiness, but she was there. She kept the lights on for him, she brought him food and water, held him after nightmares, talked him down from panic attacks every other day. She was there, despite everything, she was always there.

Tony was too far and he never wanted to bother May, so he regularly would drop by her fire escape where she would patch him up after patrols, and occasionally, let him sleep next to her and make sure to get him to school on time.

She’s always been there.

She’s held him together, kept him sane, helped him through it all.

It wouldn’t be fair to get pissed.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, shoving a hand through his mess of greasy, tangled curls. “I’m such a mess, I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to be a bitch, but I just… I don’t know what I’m doing. I feel like I’m drowning.”

And she nods because she’s always understood, always known what he means. She puts her hand over his. “You deserve a nap. C’mon.”

He goes to shake his head, looking to where his lab is only half-done, he’s only a few chapters into the textbook to get prepared for his exam, rough notes scribbled out for a paper.

“No, c’mon. You’re taking a nice nap. You deserve it,” she repeats, tugging more insistently at his wrist.

But he shakes his head this time, pulling his hand away. “If I stop, I won’t be able to start again.”

“Peter-”

“I’m serious, if I take a nap or a break or take a second to breathe, I will crumble and I won’t be able to put myself back together in time for these due dates. I won’t get back up. I just-” He stops, taking a deep breath and rubbing at his wet eyes. “I need to keep pushing for the next two weeks and then I can fall apart.”

MJ shakes her head, fingers wrapping around his thin wrist. “That’s not healthy. And it certainly wouldn’t be right for me to let you do that.”

“I’ll fail my classes if I don’t do well on these assignments and exams. I need to keep going. I know it’s bad, but if I get into bed, I will fall into a slump and I won’t get anything done.”

Surprising both him and what seems like herself, she nods, holding onto him a little tighter like he’ll disappear before her very eyes. “Fine. But I’m going to stay here with you and make sure you don’t die over the next two weeks, alright? And you have to listen when I tell you to eat or watch stupid reality TV shows with me.”

He hums out an agreement, letting himself slump into her side, eyes focusing in on his mess of homework laid out before him.

“Come on. Step one, is getting you showered and in clean clothes because you smell like you spent the night in a dumpster.”

*

MJ does exactly as she promised she would. She calls it a ‘mental health sleepover’ and they set up camp in the living room.

She calls in sick for him at work for most of the week, telling them that he caught the flu and wouldn’t be back until after his exams, and even then, he’d already booked most of Winter Break off to go home to New York.

There wasn’t much she could do, in all honesty, it wasn’t like she could force him to sleep or take a break without a fight, but she could make him healthy meals and stop him from going out patrolling, which was enough to take a big load off his shoulders.

And she occasionally can convince him to watch those dumb reality TV shows, which occasionally makes him fall asleep on the couch for at least an hour or two.

It helps, of course, but it doesn’t solve any of the problems.

As soon as he’s finished exams, he’s going to drop, he’s going to fall, he’s going to drown, let the waves take him.

And nobody will be able to help him then.

“I booked your flight home,” MJ says over dinner and while he’s finishing up his lab report. “My flight’s a few hours after yours, so I’ll be with you until you board and then the Starks will pick you up.”

“Thanks. I really owe you one,” he says, only half-listening as he starts on his paper.

She grabs him by his shoulder and makes him turn to her laptop screen. “Say yes to the dress time. Your paper can wait a bit.”

“There’s only so much I can procrastinate,” he says but he’s already closing his laptop and tucking himself into her side, and shoulders finally relaxing.

She starts the episode, on a low volume, and presses a quick kiss to his temple.

By the time they’re onto the second episode, Peter’s slurring out his insults to the dresses some of the women pick, making fun of the different styles, and blinking getting longer and longer.

“That neckline?” Peter goes, giggling into MJ’s shoulder. “Especially with those shoes?”

“You’re a bitch.”

“I know, but seriously?” he laughs again, a little window into the person he once was. “I mean the first option wasn’t bad, but the choice of a grey dress in the first place…”

MJ’s voice goes all soft and gentle when she next speaks up, “Come on, go to sleep, you can afford to take a little break.”

And he nods sleepily against her shoulder, tucking himself just a little closer, making himself small against her side. It’s simple, for now.

*

As soon as he’s done his last exam, he can feel the adrenaline wearing off, disappearing from within him, all energy draining from his very veins.

He goes straight home afterwards, ignoring everybody who tries to stop him for a chat. And as soon as he makes it to his apartment, he goes straight to bed, tugging the sheets right over his head.

He shouldn’t do this, he knows. He should call MJ, ask that she drop everything for him again because he can feel himself slipping, but he won’t. He can’t. He doesn’t even know when the last time he saw his phone was, let alone have the effort to leave his blankets and try to find it. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t have it in him to care.

He feels empty and exhausted and strung out. Carved hollow. Putting everything he has into the past few months, he feels like he has nothing left to give.

There’s a knock on his front door, but he doesn’t move.

A few minutes later, his phone rings, somewhere in another part of the apartment. It rings again and again, a symphony for him to pass out to.

*

Time passes strangely when he’s this deep in a depressive episode. He doesn’t know how long he’s been huddled under his blankets, hiding from the world. It could’ve been anywhere between a couple hours and a few days, he doesn’t know.

His phone continues ringing, far away and echoing through his dreams, tears sliding down his cheeks at random intervals, hands trembling where they’re tucked under his chest.

He feels like he’s drifting away, collapsing into himself, fading away into nothingness.

He feels empty, hollow, gone.

He gave everything he had into school and work over the course of four months, and he has nothing left to give anymore. He’s nothing more than an empty well.

And he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to pull himself together, pack, get a flight home, and pretend to be one hundred percent for Morgan.

He’d rather just die here, in this cave he’s built, ghost-like and fading away already, than have to face another soul.

*

When he hears his front door unlocking, he knows he should be worried. Nobody has a spare copy of his key except for Ned, who already went home to New York a few weeks back.

He knows it should be at least a little concerning that somebody is breaking into his apartment, but he can’t find it in him to care. He doesn’t have the energy to move or hide or try to protect himself.

He just curls up a little tighter and hopes that this won’t be his last day.

“Peter?”

He lifts his head, just enough to see over his cave of his blankets.

And standing in his bedroom doorway is Tony.

“Hi,” he breathes, curling up a little tighter, knowing he’s safe.

Tony slips into his room and sits at the end of his bed, one hand on Peter’s ankle. “MJ called when you wouldn’t answer your phone or let her in. She knew something was up.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. I saw something like this coming after you finished your senior year and spent two weeks sick and depressed. I thought you’d be home in time before you started feeling so run down, but I guess I was wrong.”

Peter doesn’t know how he’s supposed to respond to that, so instead he lets his head fall into the pillows again.

“I’m not going to make you do anything yet, I think you could use a bit more time here. Though, Morgan thought two days sleeping was plenty, I think another one might do you well. But tomorrow, we’re going to get you fed and showered and your apartment clean, and then this weekend, we’ll get a flight home. Sound good?”

He nods, though he’s pretty sure he would agree to pretty much anything so long as the decisions are taken out of his hands.

“Come here,” Tony murmurs, sliding into the space beside Peter, arms open. Peter finally feels at home when he crawls into the awaiting hug. “MJ mentioned Say Yes to the Dress bingeing, you feel up for making fun of more dress choices?”

Peter laughs half-heartedly against Tony’s chest, tucking himself into him like a child would, and nods, breathing in the soothing scent of motor oil and expensive cologne.

He knows he’ll fall apart again, he knows that it’s not going to be a permanent solution, but the time being, he has Tony’s arms around him, a reality TV show quietly keeping them company, and the relief of having time to feel miserable before he has to pick himself up, it’s enough for now. It’ll be enough.

He’ll be okay with people like Tony and MJ at his side.

He’ll be okay.

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