throat grip

Can You Please Say Something?

Heyyy! Here’s another request that I’ve written! I am so sorry that it has taken so long to get up but here it finally is!

Request: hello! can i request a peter parker x reader where the reader cant talk bc they lost their voice or something like that and peter is trying to get them to talk

Word Count: 1104

Warnings: None that I can think of!

You clear your throat, gripping your textbooks tight against your chest. There was a constant itch in the back of your throat, bothering you to no ends. Today was your first day at Midtown High and just to your luck you had lost your voice overnight. It had been the source of your unrest for the two hours after you had woken up and spent at home before school. You had tried to convince your parents to let you stay home but they wouldn’t have it. According to them the first day of attending a new school is one you can’t miss and losing your voice was not a good enough excuse to stay home.

The first class you had was chemistry. You absolutely hated any form of science classes but you didn’t really have much of a choice. Most of the classes were already full so you just took whatever you could. As if chemistry wasn’t hard enough for you, you were far behind the rest of the students in the class. And that probably meant a whole lot of homework and catch up stuff.

You walked into the room, silently congratulating yourself for finding the correct classroom. The students were chattering loudly between themselves and you thanked the heavens that they didn’t notice your presence. Your eyes scanned the class for an empty chair, falling on a seat beside a brunette boy with his head fallen onto his arms. His arms are crossed on the table, his head resting on them. You quickly head to the chair, taking a seat as the teacher walks in.

You groaned silently but it sounded more like a noise that a chicken would make if it were being strangled. The teacher blabbered on about something that you had no idea about, her hands moving animatedly as she gestures at the board. You notice the boy beside you glance at you, his eyebrows furrowing.

He was very cute. His tousled brown hair fell over his forehead, brightening the baby pink of his lips. His chocolate eyes fixate themselves on your empty page before the flicker to you. He wore a Midtown High Science jersey with a pair of jeans, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“Are you doing alright?” He blurts, his cheeks tinted pink. You just nod. You really don’t need to sound like an animal in front of someone so attractive.

“Um,” He mumbles, placing his pen down beside his book. “I’ve–uh, I’ve noticed you struggling a lot. Do you need any help? You must be new because I’ve never seen you around here before and there’s probably a lot you need to catch up on. One of the teachers asked if I could make sure you’re doing okay because I–”

He cuts himself off, noticing the playful glint in your eye. You don’t say anything–you just kinda giggle. No noise actually comes out of you though.

“What I’m trying to say is,” He sighs. “I’ve been asked to tutor you if you let me.”

You open your mouth to speak, instantly shutting when you remember the minor pain that speaking currently causes you. All you do is smile and nod, flashing him a thumbs up. The boy just raises an eyebrow.

“My name is Peter, by the way.” He says, picking up a pen and scribbling something onto your empty piece of paper, his hand shaky yet stiff at the same time. “That’s my number. In case you need it, I mean.”

You bite your lip, desperately wanting to speak to him. And you try to say your name and introduce yourself but nothing comes out.

Peter questioningly looks at you, obviously wondering why you won’t speak to him. You bite your lip, an embarrassed blush rising to your cheeks. You cursed your luck to have lost your voice for today instead of the many days before you started at Midtown.

“Not to be rude or anything but can you please say something?”

With a frustrated sigh, you grab the piece of paper and begin to scribble a note.

Hey, sorry.
I can’t really speak so I’ll just write. My name is Y/N and it’s very kind that you’ve offered to help. It would be awesome if you could tutor me. Here’s my number too….

“Are you mute?” He blurts, “Or did you like, accidentally drink bleach or–”

You shake your head rapidly, not wanting to give him the wrong idea.

“Oh my god,” He whines, “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to–”

Peter gets cut off once again, this time by your hand being placed onto his shoulder as a soft smile graces your lips. You thought he was so bloody cute and hot and beautiful all at once. You touch the pen to the paper once again.

It’s okay. I’ve just lost my voice. I should be good as new by the end of the week.

The bell rings, signifying the end of class. You release a breath, moving to pack up your things. Peter does the same, shoving his stationary into his backpack.

It was difficult for him not to stare at you. You were completely mind blowing and he couldn’t even fathom how it’s possible for someone to be so damn gorgeous. From the way your eyes glistened under the sun and the way you styled your hair to the worn out converse and the jeans and Star Wars shirt that you wear; everything about you had him almost drooling.

Just as you’re about to walk out the door, Peter stops you. He looks down to his feet than back up to your eyes, his cheeks tinted pink. Peter’s bottom lip sits between his teeth and his fingers shakily hold the straps of his bag over his shoulder.

“Would you, uh, maybe wanna get a coffee or something with me on Friday?” He asks, nervously awaiting an answer. “You’re just–you’re really pretty and I should shut up before I mess up any more chances of you saying yes to going on a date with me.”

You giggle hoarsely, nodding and grinning widely at him. Without thinking you pull him into a hug, your arms automatically wrapping around each other. You both knew that this is how it’s supposed to be between the two of you.

Peter had a feeling he would be seeing a lot more of you than he had thought and that made him feel giddy beyond words. Or maybe that’s just his Spidey-Senses. But Either way, he had no idea how close you two would become in the near future and neither did you.

Trouble (M)

Originally posted by binguwinner

Originally posted by xxxjenniekim

Characters:  G-Dragon (Kwon Jiyong, BIGBANG) X Song Mino (WINNER) X You (Reader, OC)

Genre:  Smut, CEO!AU

Warning/s:  Hardcore Smut, Daddy kink, Spanking, Exhibitionism, Threesome, etc. (My pass to hell tbh)

Plot:  When you and your boss had an unexpected visitor while you are having a sexy time in his office.

A/N:  This is going to be short (I tried) and pure smut dedicated to the lovely @sm-gd  I hope you like this babe ;)  Also, I didn’t proofread at all haha I wrote this for about 30 mins so I apologize for any errors

Keep reading

8

alive in spite of rising water by brokendrums

Niall clutches for Taylor, the hot skin of her wrist slipping out of his sweaty grip. He calls for her, his throat clogged and rotting. Taylor. His vision swims, something hits his face. It’s dirt. Soil. Damp and musty. Taylor.

“Niall!”

Niall wakes with a start. It’s dark and it takes a few moments for his vision to adjust to the dim. He blinks, his eyes filling with tears.

He can smell the smoke and the ash, his throat aching.

Fingers grip his own, rough and dirty and twisting to squeeze some heat into them. Something falls on Niall’s face and he jerks, his aching muscles spasming before he catches himself.

“It’s okay,” comes a voice in the dark and it’s Harry, his voice choked and brittle. He’s sick again, the last lashing of rain doing a number on his throat. “You’re okay.”

Joji Sex Headcanons (#2)
  • He basically melts when you moan his name
  • Loves kinky BDSM shit (think candle wax, spanking, etc.)
  • Always makes sure you cum first
  • You love to press your foreheads together and look deep into one another’s eyes during missionary 
  • He loves to leave hickeys all over your neck and on the insides of your thighs
  • It drives you crazy when he lightly grips your throat and whispers how naughty you’ve been into your ear
  • Can go for multiple rounds in one night
  • He loves having sex on the kitchen counter 
  • Sometimes, he’ll record the two of you so he can have something to watch when you’re apart
  • Prefers to have sex in some sort of light, whether it be dimmed lighting or candlelight 

SUBMISSION

“I just have this mental image of me laying down in bed and The Winter Soldiers metalarm creeping up around my throat, gripping tightly for a while just to let go and slide it down my chest and stomach as he slowly maneuvers himself on to the bed with his face between my legs. Then I would feel a puff of cool breath on my face, just before Loki leans down and gives me the most light but urgent, wanting and passionate kiss I’ve had in my life. His mouth would be cold and taste of mint. Hngph.”

Ed Knows.

Ed knows. Painstakingly he’s planned it all out. Gathered information, played it cool, considered every path and made every calculation meticulously. He’s left Oswald a riddle.

Ed waits alone for Oswald to find him, as per the riddle he’d left. Anger builds as he waits. Oswald arrives.

You killed her, he says as they fight. You betrayed me.

I saved you, Oswald spits back. I gave you everything.

Gunshots are fired until bullets run out. Knives are pulled, bloodied, and tossed aside in the scuffle. Ed doesn’t care; he wants Oswald to die by his hand.

He grabs Oswald by the throat and tightens his grip. Oswald tries to speak and manages silence, scratches at Edwards wrist until he draws blood. Ed pins him on the ground covered in glass, using the leverage to press harder. Oswald gasps, his face goes gray.

His grip tightens around Oswald’s neck. He wants to watch the life fade from him. Ed, Oswald’s lips form the word but his voice makes no sound.

Edward looks at him, jaw jutting out and eyes harsh and intense and filled with anger. This is the one who took his second chance from him. The one who ordered Isabella dead. This was his enemy. It was Oswald.

Ed leans down suddenly, smoothing his lips over his enemy’s. Oswald goes rigid beneath him. His hand loosens from Oswald’s neck, but lingers there still. He is in control.

His enemy relaxes. Oswald kisses back, neck bruised, blood dripping from Ed’s arm into his skin. His hands lift to touch Ed’s face, and Edward lets him.

It doesn’t go to plan. But he knows, now. He knows why Oswald hurt him. He knows why he could not kill Oswald for it. Their lips dance against each other in love an agony. Ed knows.

The 100 4x01

I still can’t get over the fact that Clarke thanked Bellamy for saving her, they agreed on what to do as leaders, Bellamy wanted to kill echo, when echo took Clarke to roam he was yelling and begging echo not to, Clarke mourned and let Lexa go, and he called her princess…. HE CALLED HER PRINCESS!!!! And then there’s the fact that Bellamy got hella protective when echo held that sword to Clarkes throat and then Clarke gripped Bellamys shirt!!!

Originally posted by bellarke

4

Raphael x Reader

Requested By Anon



“We are in here again; do you know how many times I’ve been in trouble with Raphael because of you?” Simon sighed as he waved his arms and slapped them down at his side.

 

“It’s Raphael’s fault.” You hummed.

 

“Now (Y/N) that’s not very nice.” Raphael declared as he wondered into the room.

 

“It’s the truth though, you’re so boring and grumpy that you locked us in here.” You sighed.

Keep reading

Royal Trouble (Thranduil x reader)

Chapter 17

Thranduil wastes no time in locating Talia. It’s not hard to guess where she spends most of time considering her reputation and upon reaching his destination Thranduil is met with what can only be described as noises royalty shouldn’t hear.

Bursting into Talia’s chamber unannounced, the King is not at all surprised to find her half-naked on top of one of his soldiers.

“I expected nothing less.”

“Oh…my king…I was not expecting you…”

She smirks, climbing off the soldier as he scrambles to attention still nude. Thranduil doesn’t acknowledge him, he’s too focused on Talia who is now fully facing him, sprawled languidly across the bed. Suddenly the soldier shoots out of the room as the king lets out a fierce growl and lunges at Talia, pushing her flat against the bed constricting her throat in his iron grip. With his other hand holding his sword he rests the tip against her throat, pressing it with the slightest bit of pressure. Her eyes immediately widen with shock as she begins spluttering and choking, desperate for breath, yet she continues to provoke him.

“You’ll never kill me. You wouldn’t risk it.”

Tightening his grip, Thranduil leans into her, hissing angrily.

“Are you sure of that?”

“Pl-ease…”

“You have threatened Ariella, my son, my people and myself. If you think I am forgiving, you are mistaken. But, you are right…”

He releases his grip on Talia and she coughs violently, struggling for breath.

“I will not kill you. Nor will I throw you in the dungeons…”

Talia locks eyes with him not daring to question what he has in store for her.

“..do not fear, Lady Talia..”

He grins sensing her panic. 

Lowering his voice to a deep whisper, he rests his hand on her shoulder and lets out a sinister chuckle that causes Talia to feel strangely exposed and incredibly vulnerable.

“…I am confident you will enjoy what I have planned for you.”

__________________________________________________

Crowded round the top end of the council table, you, Thranduil, Haldir and Legolas partake in discussing this new turn of events. Much to your delight, the king had returned to you without cutting off Talia’s head (despite secretly wanting him to, it would have been an invitation to war). Instead, he proposes something quite different.

“You should not have invited her here.”

“Legolas, if I had not done so, she would have come by her own will and it is almost certain that she would have endeavoured to cause even more damage than she already has done.”

Legolas shakes his head and Nym mirrors him. Yet one thing continues to puzzle you, what was his intention in inviting her here?

“I don’t understand, if you knew what she was like, why would you want her to come here and marry Legolas?”

“My intention was not for them to marry… I simply saw it as an opportunity to keep her under close watch and it wasn’t exactly a secret that she favoured my son. I knew she wished to become Queen, so naturally she would never have declined my invitation.”

“That may be so, Ada, but now what? How long did you intend on her staying here?”

“Actually that has been sorted. Talia is to marry an elf of…how can I put this lightly…less respectable birth.”

“An arranged marriage!?”

Both you and Haldir exclaim, exchanging surprised looks. Nym, on the other hand, beams with pride, taking the lead, he puts his hand across his chest and closes his eyes.  

“Yes, my good friend Rhangyl, he’s a very– uhh, less respectable?”

Realising the King’s harsh words against his close friend, Nym’s eyes fly open.

“My King, Rhangyl may lack certain aesthetic features, nevertheless, I can assure you-“

“He is a physical anomaly to his race. He has failed at every physical task to qualify as a guard and is therefore resigned to the kitchen with the maids, he has the brain size of a nut and the height of- well, he could practically pass as a dwarf.”

Nym looks dejected and remains silent until something makes him light up.

“……although, he does make a great leek and potato pie.”

You can’t help but giggle slightly. As one of Nym’s friends it isn’t that hard to imagine what he must be like, but despite this, having never met this Rhangyl, you already pity him: who in this realm would want to marry her?!

Haldir still looks puzzled.

“But her family…won’t they refuse?“

“I already have Talia’s consent, she knows what will happen if she fails to go through with this, and as for her family, I am to have them believe Rhangyl is a distant relation to Celeborn – they would not dare question such a connection…as hard it may be with his looks…”

Nym releases a soft grunt, offended by the King’s remark.

“..the papers are being drawn up and he has agreed to sign his mark. Talia has long been under the watch of many realms, thankfully we are not the only ones wanting rid of her.”

You begin to think over this plan and turn your attention to Nym.

“Does your friend want to marry her?”

He answers slowly.

“…He…well, to be direct with you Lady Ariella, Rhangyl has been, despite my best efforts, failing at courting any such woman. Therefore, when I put the King’s proposition to him he was more than thrilled. I did leave out some minor details concerning her treacherous behaviour, but he seems very content with what he knows so I left him with that.”

Poor guy, he has no clue what he’s in for.

Thranduil focuses back on the task at hand.

“Now, I’m afraid in order for this deception to work, we must perform the wedding as if it were a true royal wedding…”

A collective sigh sounds from everyone standing.

“..which means everyone will have to play a role and assist in the ceremony.”

“Would it not have been easier to kill the-“

“Legolas.”

“So, what now? Where is she?”

“Tauriel is guarding her. I have sent a messenger to inform her family of the match and the wedding is to take place in two days. I will send you further details to let you know what is required of you. For now that is all.”

Legolas turns to leave, mumbling.

“The sooner this is over the better.”

As the rest begin to leave the council room, Haldir approaches you.

“Lady Ariella, I do hope you are feeling safer now, telling the King was the right thing to do.”

“Yes, I am, thank you Haldir…”

You take his hand and whisper softly.

“…for everything.”

He nods understanding your gesture. Without Haldir there you may have gone a little bit crazy.

“Good, I am glad. Good day, my lady.”

He bows before leaving and as you turn to find Thranduil, he is already by your side entwining his hand with yours as he smiles, watching you gently blush.

Suddenly, Nym pops up out of nowhere to whisper over your shoulder.

“Who knows…perhaps one day you’ll be the princess marrying our own royalty…”

He winks at you as he walks away, leaving Thranduil smiling at you. He’s clearly heard Nym’s comment. Your face quickly turns red as the two of you are once again alone. With your gaze now to the floor, Thranduil takes your hand leading you towards the balcony.

“You know, he isn’t all that senseless.”

“What do you mean?”

“Never mind…”

Smiling, Thranduil kisses your forehead as you ponder just what he means. With his arms wrapped around your waist, you couldn’t feel any safer than you do right now.

“Tell me, Ariella…are you feeling happier now?”

Looking out over the treetops, you rest your head against his chest as he caresses your cheek, a light breeze tickling your skin.

“Yes, much happier.”

“Mmm, I’m glad to hear it.”

As you begin to feel sleep taking over you, Thranduil gently removes his arms from around you as he wanders back inside.

“Wait here, I have something for you…”

Taking in the view, you travel further along the balcony, attempting to see for as far as your eyes will let you. Finding the best spot, you lean out across the wooden barrier, noticing how thousands of tiny leaves had been carved to create one huge winding bar that stops you from falling. It is at that time where the night is now melting into the day, the light from the sun is fading as the sky begins to darken and the moon makes its first appearance.

Little rays of silver light begin to dance across your arms and the moon’s reflection is shining in your eyes. Your hair delicately whirls across your shoulders and you close your eyes, listening to the silence of the night, it’s the most peace you’ve had in days.

“It must be-…”

Not hearing Thranduil return, he catches you taking in the serenity of his realm.

“I have never seen such beauty…”

You open your eyes and turn around to see him observing you like no man has ever done before; it is almost as if it pains him to watch you. Smiling you walk over to him and gently touch his cheek, he almost moans at your touch as he leans into your hand and you feel him relax.

“…Ariella…”

He sighs, you can tell in his voice he needs more of you.

“My king?

Instead of replying he kisses you passionately, removing your hand from his face he pins both your arms behind your back, lifting you up on top of the barriers, his arm rests behind your back, careful to support you enough to keep you from falling. Wrapping your legs around his waist he grunts as you pull back slightly after every kiss to tease him. You enjoy the little chances of teasing him that you get, after all, he is the one who does it most often and sometimes a girl has to return the favour. But you also know Thranduil has no patience whatsoever, and that teasing him only fuels his lack of restraint – which you also enjoy.

“Don’t.”

He warns, pulling you even closer, fully aware of your trick. But this doesn’t stop you. Smirking against his kisses, as he quickly removes your underwear, you recall Nym telling you one of his outrageous tales of elvish kinks he has bared witness to over the years. Desperately wanting to see if this one held any truth, you begin to stroke Thranduil’s hair, slowly nearing his ear, yet you are suddenly distracted as he begins to kiss your neck, making you want him in you now. But you resist. You lean in and trail kisses along the edge of his ear, immediately causing him to bite down on your neck, releasing a guttural groan you’ve never heard before. It instinctively causes you to part your legs wider as you feel the strain of his erection the fabric between you.

Before you can even continue in exploring the other sounds Thranduil would make if you repeated your actions, he hikes up your dress and plunges two fingers inside of you, making you gasp and cling to his shoulder. He smirks at feeling how wet you are already, adding to the urgency of this thrusts. It’s not long before you feel the tension building, craving more of him you begin to moan into his hair.

“Mmmm…Thra-…”

“What was that princess?”

“I-…need y-you…”

You wine, squirming and pleading against him, desperate for him to fuck you already. The cold air is now making the heat of your arousal even more noticeable and as you continue to mumble incomprehensible words, Thranduil removes his fingers and replaces them with the tip of his cock, but before he enters you, he pauses.

“Look at me.”

You sigh, looking into his crystal blue eyes as he gently slides into you, eliciting a whimper that is immediately silenced with his mouth on yours. It seemed at every moment you were about to gasp or moan, his lips would refuse to let a sound escape your mouth as if every sound you made belonged to him. Within minutes you feel yourself climbing higher as the tension within you grows with each thrust he makes. As your walls start to restrict his movement, you hear him growl with frustration and he speeds up, wanting his own release as much as yours.

“Melamin…”

Becoming desperate he grabs your hips and does long sharp thrusts that he knows bring you to orgasm. Within seconds of doing so, you are struggling for breath and on the verge of crying with the need to release.

“I can’t- I…”

Silencing you once again, he kisses you just long enough not to make you faint. Still edging you to bliss, Thranduil rips down the top half of your dress to expose your breasts. He groans at the sight of them bouncing up and down to the rhythm of his thrusts inside you. As you reach out to hold onto him he pulls you closer, dipping his head down slightly whispering words that bring you over the edge as he thrusts deeper and longer. Your release triggers his and with a deep moan, Thranduil cums inside you. You feel the warmth spread down your thigh as you collapse forward onto him quietly whining from the pleasure. Thranduil hushes you and strokes your hair splayed across your back as he regains his breath. Lifting you up off the barrier, Thranduil carries you back inside and heads to his chamber.

“So beautiful…”

You hear him whisper as you doze off against his chest - telling Thranduil about Talia certainly has its perks after all.

I am sick of writing about melancholy.
About how shadows follow me, even to bed.

The way some unseen force grips my throat.

And how my frame is a perpetual earthquake.
But the first rule of writing:

Write what you know.
—  submission #374
Imagine demon Dean being ordered to kill you because you are a half angel and half demon but he doesn’t because he has developed feelings for you.

“Go on. Do it. It’s not as if anyone will care that I will be gone anyway” you looked away from the demon that held you by your throat.

You felt the grip on your throat loosen up a little bit but you tried to pay no attention to it. Dean, like many more other demons – and even angels – had been sent through the years to kill you because your mere existence was a threat to them. Being half angel and half demon meant not just being special but also having powers of great extent. Crowley ordering Dean, who was a demon now, to do that was not a first.

“Trying to get my human side to work is not going to get ya somewhere sweetheart” Dean tried to hide how deep down, at the depth of his dark soul, he was indeed being affected.

“Who said I am even trying to save myself in the first place?” you looked at him fully in the eyes.

Truth was that you were done trying to fight for yourself. You hated what you saw when you looked in the mirror, so what was the point of fighting anymore?

“You have no idea what it is to look in the mirror and always see a monster” the look in your eyes, as much as he’d hate to admit, hurt more than it should.

He breathed a laugh, but his smile immediately fell “You’re talking to the expert here” and without even realizing it he had let go of your throat.

Your hand instinctively went to your throat and you frowned deeply at him. When you had first met him with Crowley he had seemed arrogant and certainly like someone you would not get along with at all. And the more you saw him the more sure you got.

But who would have ever expected of this?

“Why?” your voice was hoarse and he stopped in his tracks as he had turned away. He looked at you over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow.

“Why what?” he asked casually.

“Why are you doing this? Why are you letting me go? If Crowley finds out I am alive he’ll-”

“He’ll what?” he chuckled “I don’t take orders from him, sweetheart” he shrugged but you frowned at him.

“Yes but- he wanted me dead and you haven’t killed me. There must be a reason to that” your voice was low as you felt your throat hurt.

“There is. I don’t feel like getting my hands dirty today” he said with a casual smile.

You still had a frown on your face “You’re lying. And don’t deny it because I know. I can see it. You are lying.”

The smile immediately fell of Dean’s lips, and he looked at you fully in the eyes.

“Dean” you spoke calmly, taking a step closer to him.

You saw Dean’s posture straighten and pretty clearly the inner battle he was having. You smiled just softly at him. You shook your head.

“Thank you”

“No need to thank me. I am a demon, you’re just lucky I am bored today and- What are you doing?” his voice was rough.

“What does it look like? Weren’t you human once too? It’s called hugging”

“Yeah no shit, but I am a demon now princess and I ain’t exactly meant for-”

“Sshh” you shook your head, resting it on his chest “Just don’t talk and let me do something right for once.”

Dean’s eyes were almost wide and he breathe din and out deeply. There was that feeling again. The one that kept him from hurting you and the one that got so much stronger as you were this close to him. A feeling that reminded him so much of… his humanity.

Well, he was damned.

anonymous asked:

ok but dom!tae but i also think he's rough but softrough.. do u get what i mean ??

defiintely sis, i think he’d b the type to afraid to choke u cause u he afraid he might get carried away n accidentally kill u TBH

@ taehyung , im tryna die anyways boy, u better grip that throat as if ur life depended on it

enbyofdionysos  asked:

8?? If you want [finger guns]

8) raindrops, a singed teddybear, a photograph so worn it feels like fabric.

“Percy,” says Jason. “Calm down.”

He hisses through his teeth, face almost buried in the wet dirt at Jason’s knees. Their clothes are soaked through from rain and blood, mostly, with flecks of golden dust washing down their arms. Jason has one hand on the back of Percy’s neck, trying to force the air through his throat, while the other grips his sword. He feels less like a hero than he usually does, has an overwhelming desire to drop it like it sears.

Percy,” Jason says again, “You have to breathe.”

“I – I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.” Jason grabs Percy’s hand and shoves it up against his ribcage. “With me, okay? In and out.”

They can’t stay here for long; they’re mostly hidden by the low branches and the sun setting past the high hills, but it doesn’t take away that being on highland isn’t going to be a good idea once it’s dark. If they’re caught up here, they’ll have sealed themselves in a box with no openings.

After a moment, Percy whispers, “There was so much blood.”

He sounds like he’s been crying. Jason can’t tell by looking at him, just like he can’t tell if the water plastering his hair to his face is from the rain or sweat. His jaw clenches.

“They just burned it down.” Percy shakes his head as if to clear it, as if to get the ugly taste those words leave behind out of his mouth. Jason knows the feeling – he saw the whole thing, ran into the smoldering, splintering walls of wood left behind. “They knew we were coming. They knew we’d come.”

“Stop blaming yourself.”

“There were children there,” he says, and the rest of whatever Jason might’ve said dies in his throat. “There were clothes – there was a stuffed bear under the debris.” Frantic, trembling hands reach under his armor and Percy pulls out a piece of paper for Jason to see. “There was a family here.”

Jason averts his eyes almost immediately but the picture burns like charred wood behind his eyes: two children, no older than twelve, with a man’s arm wrapped like a ribbon around his wife’s neck. He wonders what the children’s names were, if the father kept this picture, old and worn thin as fabric, in his wallet. Bile curls in Jason’s throat.

“Don’t you dare tell me this isn’t my fault,” Percy hisses through clenched teeth.

Very slowly, he nods. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault, too. This isn’t all on you.”

War is an inhuman thing, Jason thinks. Something meant only between the immune system and bacteria. There’s nothing personal there, no funerals or bowed heads or anger so profound you could choke on it.

There is no winner, Jason thinks, looking at his sword, because there is no end. There’s only the beginning and the parts in the middle.

“We can’t stay here,” he says, after a very long moment where neither of them said anything. “We need to regroup with the others. If we leave soon, we might be able to beat them before they make it back.”

It takes a moment before Percy can bring himself to nod. He gets to his feet and unsheathes his blade.

anonymous asked:

Rachel hadn't been doing much of anything when he stopped breathing, or at least when he stopped doing it properly. She'd been idly twirling her hair, and the sudden loud gasps pained her too. "Oh my God, Erik you need to breathe! Follow my pattern, ok? We can calm this down." ~la-vicomtesse

He gripped his throat, wheezing.. Erik had, for whatever reason, completely stopped breathing.. but why? And now it seemed he didn’t remember how..

I held my breath to stop the pain which the whip so expertly delivered when in the right hands.. Then, another blow would meet my back, causing my spine to stiffen as I’d pull on the chains.. He’d scream for me to sit up straight, but I hadn’t the energy.. and so, another blow would be dealt, causing my ears to ring horribly..

He squeezed his eyes shut, only able to wheeze for air.. @la-vicomtesse

A breath in, a sigh out. They say sorrow drips into your heart through a pinhole. I get that now. All it takes is one miniscule fault, a seconds hesitation, for the weight to settle in your chest. You don’t suspect a thing. Summer time and the doubt creeps in to stay, this time promising to kick the bucket out from under your feet if you give it the chance.

ivebeenbooped  asked:

I need more blackmail in my life. Dark gripping your throat and staring into your eyes as he smirks and whispers dangerously, "Do you want me to go tattle to your precious little boyfriend just how dirty you are? How you beg for my cock, how you cry to be filled up with cum? I don't think he'd appreciate that. He would cringe at the idea of you submitting to me like the filthy little slut you are." (1/2)