#goodness this wound up longer than i'd expected | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wolfjackle-creates · 3 months

Note

For the ask game, can I request the Bad reveal AU? That's the one where Danny finds out about Bruce being Batman and freaks out right?

Ha! Yes it is! Finally something I can just toss a snippet at!

I've got a decent amount written for this. However, I switched over to Dick's POV so it's been challenging. (First time writing from him.)

I also was trying to keep it short when...the story doesn't want to stay short. So I'm rewriting it. Which is taking longer than I'd like because I've got an action scene in this one and I'm terrible at writing action scenes. (Which means I need to write more of them, I know.) So I'm taking my time trying to make it good.

Chapter 1

1.4k words (okay, so more than a snippet.)

---

As soon as the laser left Danny’s weapon, Dick sprinted towards his brother. But before he could get more than a few yards, Danny disappeared. Into the cave wall.

“What the fuck,” he muttered, but changed course to check on Bruce.

Tim and Damian continued on, rushing to the wall.

Duke was kneeling by Bruce’s side and trying to keep him from getting up to search as well.

“Where’s Danny?” demanded Bruce.

“B, lay back down,” ordered Dick. “Danny’s gone. Apparently, he can density shift.” He couldn’t quite keep the hysteria out of his voice and Bruce’s frown deepened. “But Tim and Damian are checking the cave wall to see if he left any clues behind.”

Of course, his words only made Bruce struggle even harder to get to his feet. Duke could do nothing against a determined Batman.

“You have to let us look at your leg, B,” said Dick, pushing him back down with Duke.

Bruce glared at him. “I have to find Danny.”

Duke snorted. “How do you expect to be able to do that? He literally disappeared into the ground. Along with his suspected power of invisibility? Where do we start?”

Bruce slumped at Duke’s words and Dick used the chance to examine his leg. Danny’s weapon hit him in the upper thigh and his pants were half burned, half melted into the wound. The injury itself was about six to eight inches in diameter and the center was absolutely a third degree burn.

“Besides, Bruce. You really can’t walk on this. Third degree burns and we’ll have to get Alfred—or maybe even Leslie—to debride it.” He looked around to check on everyone else.

Tim and Damian were still by the wall where Danny had disappeared, but Jason was standing nearby frozen.

“Jason,” called out Dick, “can you get Alfred? I have to cut off Bruce’s pants so we can actually get to the wound.”

Jason seemed to shake himself and when he looked at Dick, his eyes were a bright green. Instinctively, Dick shifted until he was crouching more protectively over Bruce. Jason’s eyes narrowed and he sneered. “What the fuck do you think I’m gonna do to him?”

Dick glared right back. “Just get Alfred.”

With a huff, Jason turned. “Whatever.” But he did take the elevator up, allowing Dick to relax.

“Duke, could you get a pair of shears and a kit from the medbay?”

“You’ve got it.” He rushed off.

“B, how’s the pain?”

Bruce grit his teeth as he finally let himself look down at the injury. “I’ve had worse.”

Dick only had time to roll his eyes before Duke was back with the supplies. He took the special scissors designed to cut through their uniforms gratefully. “Thanks. Gonna start cutting off your pants, now.”

Before he finished, Tim and Damian were back. “How is Father?”

“Nasty burn,” replied Dick.

“I’ll heal,” said Bruce at the same time.

“Yep,” agreed Dick. “We’ll wait for Alfred or Leslie to look over it to say for sure, but so long as it doesn’t get infected, I expect he’ll make a full, if slow, recovery.”

Damian gave a curt nod.

“Far as we can tell,” said Tim, “Danny really did density shift through the wall. There’s absolutely nothing unusual about the place he was standing. No hidden crevices or passages.”

Bruce closed his eyes and sighed. “We’ll have to go over everything we have on his former life.”

“And research the things he referenced just now,” added Tim.

Alfred and Jason returned just as Dick finished cutting as much fabric away from the injury as possible and he happily seceded his place.

He clicked his tongue. “Master Danny did this?”

Damian nodded. “After everything Father has done for him, he chose to attack him in his own home.”

Jason snorted. “We all know it wasn’t that simple.”

Damian didn’t say anything, but did look away. Clear admission of guilt from him.

Alfred cleared his throat and everyone fell silent. “What sort of weapon did he use?”

Jason shrugged. “He had some sort of silver energy weapon. Not a design I’ve ever seen before. It shot a Lazarus-green beam.”

Alfred hummed. “Well, the injury looks normal enough. Second and third degree burns. But Master Timothy, I’d like you to run tests on the tissue to make sure we’re not missing any sort of contamination from the unknown weapon.”

“Course, Alfred. I can do that.”

“Do we know where Master Danny may have gone?”

Duke shook his head. “He density shifted through the cave wall. Pair that with his suspected invisibility and how little we know about his life before joining us…”

Alfred nodded. “Very well. Masters Jason and Dick, please help me move Master Bruce into a bed. The rest of you can begin searching for more information while I clean his wounds.”

Tim barely waited for Alfred to finish speaking before he was booting up the batcomputer. “I’ll inform Oracle, Black Bat, and Spoiler about the situation!” he called out over his shoulder.

Jason clearly wasn’t happy about having to carry Bruce, but not even he would argue with Alfred when one of his charges was injured. Though both of them left the instant Bruce was settled with promises to keep him informed as to how the search for Danny was going.

“So what do we know?” Dick asked as soon as he joined the others.

“Precious little,” admitted Tim.

Jason snorted. “Someone wants to cut our baby brother open and we don’t know a damn thing? What sort of detectives are we?”

Damian tutted at him. “Daniel indicated they would do the same to you, too.”

Dick looked up at the ceiling as he remembered the confrontation. “What was it he said? ‘They won’t care you’re more alive than dead’?”

Jason shifted his weight. “How much do you think he knows? He clearly just learned about our identities recently.”

Duke bit his lip. “He skipped school today. Said he wasn’t feeling well.”

Damian nodded. “But he appeared normal last night while preparing for bed.”

Tim hummed. “So he learned something last night.” Then his eyes widened. “Shit. Damian, we were talking in the kitchen after patrol. Do you think he might’ve overheard?”

“He does move silently. We would not have heard him if he did not wish us to.”

Dick closed his eyes and counted to ten. “Okay, what do we know about his abilities? He demonstrated density shifting today and we suspect invisibility.”

“He can move silently,” added Damian. “Cassandra is the only one who can reliably detect him when he does not wish to be detected.”

“And even she has been surprised by him on occasion,” said Bruce.

“Empathy,” added Jason.

Dick wasn’t the only one to stop and stare at that addition. “Uh… what are you talking about? He hasn’t shown any sort of empathy.”

Jason laughed for a moment, only stopping when no one joined in. “Oh, come on. He always knows whether you need space or want someone to stick around for a bit. And he can, like, send out a calming aura or some shit. Kid’s relaxing to be around.”

Dick opened and shut his mouth. “Huh. I haven’t noticed anything like that from him.”

Tim, Duke, and Damian agreed with Dick.

“Quit messing with me,” Jason said, flipping them off. “It’s true.”

Tim cocked his head. “Do you think that’s why he was most surprised by you? Are the two of you similar in some way? And that’s why you get the empathy sense from him?”

“‘More alive than dead,’” repeated Jason. “Would that have something to do with it?”

Tim hummed. “He mentioned his parents…” he trailed off before he could repeat Danny’s statements about his parents.

Dick nodded. “We’ll get Babs to take another look into them while you analyze B’s injury for potential contaminants. Jay, you and I can go through his room.”

Damian snorted. “With Father out of commission, someone needs to go on patrol.”

Dick cursed. “What time is it?”

“It is ten thirty.”

“Fine. You and I can patrol. I’ll take the cowl.”

Jason groaned. “And there’s some thing I have to take care of in Crime Alley.”

Bruce cleared his throat. “We’ve got the plans for tonight. Tim, you check my wound for foreign contaminants from the unknown weapon. Batman and Robin will patrol the city; Red Hood will be out in Crime Alley. Oracle will look into the Fenton parents. Duke, you’ll get to bed early. Tomorrow after a rest we will search Danny’s room more thoroughly.”

Everyone present voiced their acceptance, though with more grumbles than normal.

-----

So yeah. That's how the next part starts.

#dpxdc #bad reveal au #dealing with the aftermath #how did I do with Dick?

226 notes · View notes

onismdaydream · 3 months

Text

sweet like candy (ft. satoru gojo)

tags: mdni. 18+. afab reader. slight sub gojo. handjob. slight bondage (restricted wrists). pet names. makeshift gag (underwear). reader is kinda mean. not proofread.

notes: happy valentine's day?? idk this was a dumb thought that got longer than i expected! i also didnt feel like going through and editing lol hope you like it anyways :3 reblogs/comments are very much appreciated!

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

it's funny, really, how quickly satoru gojo folds underneath you.

he loves to be an asshole, thrives on the attention it gets him. he's never been one to keep his mouth shut and everyone knows it. so sometimes you have to take matters into your own hands.

he doesn't mind, not one bit, when you make him sit on a chair and bind his wrists behind the back. it's not the best knot but it'll suffice — especially if he knows what's good for him. there's that smug little smirk that often makes its home on satoru's pretty face.

"what's this, angel? do i get a prize?" still so cocky... you'll have to fix that. your hands gently slide up his abdomen, starting from his firm stomach and resting at his pecs. his shirt rises with the movement and you can feel the way his body tenses slightly as his breath hitches. if it was anyone else, they might not have noticed it, but you did. despite the way he parades around, he's all bark and no bite. he crumbles as soon as you so much as lay a finger on him.

you hum softly, a dismissive sound. "something like that." sliding his shirt the rest on the way up so it sits above his collarbone, your fingers graze over his sensitive nipples, already beginning to harden from the cool air and your touch.

"should've stripped me first," satoru breathes out a chuckle. "gonna be hard to do when i'm tied up."

you don't respond, instead you keep your gaze on his exposed skin. there's faint red scratches that contrast nicely with his pale complexion — a reminder of the previous night. your nails had dug into his chest as you rode him, little crescent moons that morphed into long and narrow wounds when satoru desperately bucked his hips further into you.

"c'mon, baby," the white haired sorcerer looks up at you with that ridiculously pretty smile, something akin to mischief sparkling in his equally ridiculously pretty eyes. "don't make me wait."

you flatten your hands on his chest, squeezing the firm muscles of his pecs. if gojo was watching your expression, he might've kept his mouth shut.

"like what you see?"

"i'd like it better if it was quieter," you retort, your gaze flicking up and catching his own. satoru's face falters for a moment — his eyes widening and smile dropping — from the unexpected words, but he quickly recovers. he loved playing this game as much as you did.

"aw, don't be like that. you know you love me." that shit-eating grin makes its way to his lips, his perfect teeth catching the low light of the room.

one of your hands reaches down, palming at the bulge in his sweatpants, the other one resting on his waist. he was half hard already. though satoru's pretty much always hard at a moment's notice when it came to you. a low and quiet groan leaves the back of his throat, your palm putting much appreciated pressure on him. "mm, i suppose i do."

even with the layer of fabric in between his cock and your hand, you could feel it kick and throb as you touched him, soft noises of pleasuring slipping past his lips.

"yeahhh," satoru sighs, his head falling back as you pull him out and finally get your hands on him. "just like that, baby."

you knew satoru like no other, knew him like the back of your own hand. he didn't have to guide you on what to do because you were already doing it. drooling on his cock and mixing your saliva with his precum for makeshift lube to make the glide of your fist even better, stroking him nice and slow, using just the right amount of pressure so that it teeters on painful — you picked these things up naturally as you spent more and more time with gojo.

but that meant that he was constantly babbling, too. equal amounts of praise and curses, satoru could never shut his mouth.

"fuuuck, angel, no one's as good as you. always feels so fuckin' good." his hips buck up when your thumb teases over his slit, smearing more of his pearly precum around his sensitive tip.

he's vaguely aware of when you slip your other hand underneath your skirt, but he's too caught up in the feeling of your hot tongue licking up the underside of his shaft, eyes squeezing shut in pleasure. "shit, baby."

too caught up to realize that you're not touching yourself, instead, you're sliding off your underwear. and the next time he opens his mouth, you take the opportunity to shove them on his tongue. gojo's eyes shoot open, piercing blue focusing on your smirking face.

"you talk too much," you say simply, pushing the soft panties further in his mouth, making him gag, the sound muffled. not giving him time to adjust, your pace on his cock picks up, your strokes becoming tougher and sloppier.

satoru whines around the fabric, his own drool pooling at the corners of his lips as he's forced to taste and smell you. it's intoxicating, really. he should feel dirty and gross as your used panties sit on top of his tongue, but he doesn't. it's almost as if his head is buried in your cunt, the sweet and distinct arousal that is undeniably you suffocating his senses. not quite as strong and certainly not as good as actually having his head between your thighs, but almost.

he can feel the knot in his stomach getting tighter, your lips around his tip and hands on his shaft working him closer and closer to the edge, until he finally falls.

you pull away from his cock, letting the ropes of cum hit against his flexing stomach, mixing with the faint trail of white hair. his cock kicks as you work him through his orgasm, a stifled cry emanating from the sorcerer.

your panties are absolutely and thoroughly soaked when you remove them from satoru's mouth. he opens and closes his jaw a few times, stretching it out and regaining feeling in the area.

"could'a told me to stop talking," he grumbles, though his lips quirk up just the slightest amount. he's not ready to admit it — yet, at least — but he enjoyed that a lot more than he thought.

you laugh softly, a stark contrast to how you were just mere moments ago. "where's the fun in that, toru?"

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #perce.doc #.jjkai

192 notes · View notes

americas1suiteheart · 9 months

Note

Hi! Hope you are doing well! So, Tangerine x Reader: any headcanons about Tan as a partner? Thanks!

I'm doing great in fact, thank you for the request! Headcannons are my favourite thing to write, hope this is fitted to your taste.

Dating Tangerine Would Include...

[Tangerine x GN! Reader Headcannons]

[Warnings; Violence, smoking, violence, its a bullet train fic guys]

[Notes; I love writing for Tan so much you guys have no idea, I get to cuss as much as I want to in these fics]

Oh man, he's such a softie for you, you have absolutely no idea.

He can go from being the same grumpy prick to other people and have one of the worst days but when he's around you he's calling you love and darling, clinging onto you practically and just showering you in kisses.

He's so clingy, as soon as either of you get home he's begging you to sit with him on the couch just so you could cuddle. And if your making dinner expect him to try to help but just end up holding you by your waist the whole time.

Lemon thinks it's the cutest thing how tangerine acts around you. He thinks its hilarious how quickly Tan switches up with you.

"-you're the one that doesn't fucking know how to go on about this job correctly! You're such a fucking idiot sometimes Lemon it's insu-" Tangerine yells at his brother before being interrupted by you.

"Whats going on? What are you two fighting about now?" You say in annoyance.

"Nothing darling, just please go back to the living room I'll be right there okay love," Tangerine tells you softly, pressing a kiss to your head before you leave.

"You're a right fuckin' sap for them, Tan," Lemon snickers at Tangerines change of attitude and tone.

"I'll put your fuckin' head through a wall, honest to god Lemon."

He just loves when your laying with eachother and you run your hands through his curls.

I'd like to think you help him take care of his hair actually. Like, he would know how to take care of it properly before, but he let's you put different product in his hair to make sure he doesn't miss any areas on his hair, (In reality he just wants to be touched by you in some way).

Being a part time nurse for him and Lemon definitely became a thing almost immediately after you two started dating. Constant cleaning of wounds and such, just constantly.

The days when he's on missions he's constantly texting you as much as he can, checking up on you to make sure you're doing well.

There are times where he's come home a couple days or even weeks later than he had originally anticipated without being able to contact you, and you'd be absolutely furious, (sometimes not knowing that he wasn't able to contact you at all).

"What the fuck happened, Tan! I thought you were dead. You hadn't even texted me or anything, you were supposed to be back 5 days ago! You had me absolutely worried sick!" You yell.

Tan had been gone for almost 2 weeks when the mission was only supposed to last a week. And on top of that he hadn't phoned or even tried to text you. If it weren't for Lemon telling you that they were fine 2 days before they showed up you would've assumed the worst had happened.

"I really am sorry my darling, the mission was just much harder than we'd expected and we got stuck there longer than nessasary." He explained quietly.

"But why hadn't you contacted me at all? If it weren't for lemon calling me I would've thought you two were gone for good!"

"My telephone got broken by some prick the 3rd day into the mission whilst we were fighting. And I didn't think to used lemon's phone because I was so frazzled the whole time. Really darling, I didn't mean to frighten or worry you."

"Alright.. Sorry I freaked out on you but I really was worried. I'm just glad you're okay now." You walk to Tangerine, pulling him into a hug.

" 's alright love, I'm glad you and I are good too. Let's go wash up and go to bed, I've got blood all over me and my fuckin' clothes and it don't feel too great," Tangerine says, picking you up and taking you to your shared bedroom.

Loves taking baths with you, taking turns washing eachother off makes him feel all warm inside, that you trust eachother enough at that point in your relationship. He thinks it's so sweet though.

Sometimes when he goes outside to have a smoke he'll invite you out with him so you two can just talk. If you smoke he'll probably share one with you too.

Very protective.. Being he's an assassin and all, he'd most definitely go to extremes if someone had been bothering you. Some random person flirted with you? Dead. A someone you knew in high school used to bully you? Dead. Any person that has hurt you no matter how long ago will probably end up dead.

You two are so good for eachother though. Strangely the healthiest relationship you will ever have. Please don't break this poor boy's heart. He will be absolutely devastated and blame himself for it. Underneath all of that muscle and confidence he's very emotional and sensitive.

Will ask to marry you and even possibly start a family with you if you're up for it. (Adoption or old fashioned depending on your biological sex).

Loved writing this, and I was infact so excited that I finished this in just 2 hours🤭

#tangerine x reader #tangerine bullet train #bullet train #bullet train 2022 #aaron taylor johnson #aaron taylor johnson x reader #gender neutral reader #headcannons

375 notes · View notes

acetone4veins · 1 month

Text

Quotes + Mean Girls

associating angsty quotes (and some fluffy ones) to mean girls characters and dynamics, this is definitely longer than it should be and will probably be part 1 of many but anyways. lmk which were your favorites and which ones ruined you :) also shoutout to the cautionary tale discord who saw some of these already and ramble about these characters with me <3

posting under the cut so i don't clog anyone's feeds

Regina

"what a terrible thing to wound someone you really care for - and to do it so unconsciously."

Haruki Murakami

"and when nobody wakes you up in the morning, and when nobody waits for you at night, and when you can do whatever you want. what do you call it, freedom or loneliness?"

Charles Bukowski

"i am changing. i am trying to be better. it is slow; it is rough; it is repetitive, but i swear i am."

Abdulsamad S. M.

"i did not like to be touched, but it was a strange dislike. i did not like to be touched because i craved it too much. i wanted to be held very tight so i would not break."

Marya Hornbacher

"i was not a loveable child, and i'd grown into a deeply unlovable adult. draw a picture of my soul, and it'd be a scribble with fangs."

Gillian Flynn

"if only my heart were as cold as i pretend it is, maybe i could get over this."

Jessica Katoff

"i wasn't beautiful anymore. now i looked like what i was, a raw wound."

Janet Fitch

"i'm restless and harsh and despairing. although i do have love inside me. i just don't know how to use love. sometimes it tears at my flesh, like barbs."

Clarice Lispector

"i did not mean to be cruel. i swear i am good, i am good, i am kind. i have love inside me. some place far far away."

unknown

Cady

"how much can you change and get away with it, before you turn into someone else, before its some kind of murder?"

Richard Siken

"your worst sin is that you have destroyed and betrayed yourself for nothing."

Dyodor Dosteovsky

"what and how much had i lost by trying to do only what was expected of me instead of what i myself wished to do?"

Ralph Ellison

"my god, my god, whose performance am i watching? how many people am i? who am i? what is this space between myself and myself?"

Fernando Pessoa

"it was good for a while, being empty. i didn't hurt anymore. but as time went on, it was like i could hear myself from far away, begging for permission to come back."

Myra McEntire

"is it better to out-monster the monster or to be quietly devoured?"

Friedrich Nietzsche

"who's the real you? the person who did something awful, or the one who's horrified by the awful thing you did? is one part of you allowed to forgive the other?"

Rebecca Stead

"you're a mess of good intentions gone wrong. you strike a match on yourself to keep others warm, and now the whole goddamn world's on fire. you try to put it out, and you try so hard. the dam breaks, and the waters of your sorrow pour free. you are sorry; so very, very sorrow - and you will drown everyone to prove it."

unknown

Janis

"there are times when i am convinced i am unfit for any human relationship."

Franz Kafka

"i am eternally, devastatingly romantic, and i thought people would see it because 'romantic' doesn't mean 'sugary'. it's dark and tormented - the furor of passion, the despair of an idealism that you cannot attain."

Catherine Breillat

"but whatever came, she had resolved never again to belong to another than herself."

Kate Chopin

"there were two reasons i was scared to let people in; the damage they could do, and the damage they could find."

Chris McGeown

"perhaps its good for one to suffer. can an artist do anything if he's happy? would he ever want to do anything? what is art, after all, but a protest against the horrible inclemency of life?"

Aldous Huxley

Gretchen

"i want so obviously, so desperately to be loved, and to be capable of love."

Sylvia Plath

"she wanted to say 'don't leave me', but she couldn't do it, not again. she was so tired of begging people to love her."

Kristin Hannah

"he is charmingly telling me how much he does not love me...and i, - listening to him carefully, - am approving it."

Marina Tsvetaeva

"she's gonna forever say 'i got this' even with tears in her eyes."

unknown

"still there is this terrible desire to be loved. still, there is this horror at being left behind."

Michael Cunningham

"can you understand me? someone, somewhere, can you understand me a little, love me a little?"

Sylvia Plath

"i am trying to make myself digestible. i am trying to make myself easy to love."

I.B. Vyache

"do you think it is possible that some people are born to give more love than they will ever get back in return?"

Tyler Knott Gregson

Karen

"the sensitive suffer more; but they love more, and dream more."

Augusto Cury

"a lot of people tell me i'm a bit dreamy. but i like the idea of that. of being somewhere else."

Alam

"you cannot make everyone think and feel as deeply as you do. this is your tragedy, because you understand them but they do not understand you."

Daniel Saint

Regina and Janis

"the bear loved the deer, it was obvious. it ripped the deer's throat out, and then licked the dying deer with the most passionate affection. i thought of you and me."

David Cronenberg

"can you hate someone for what they have done, but still love them for whom they had been?"

Jodi Picoult

"love isn't soft, like those poets say. love has teeth which bite and the wounds never close."

Stephen King

"i love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul."

Pablo Neruda

"they will hook me up to a polygraph and ask me if i love you and i will say no but the needle will jump and sputter exactly how you laugh."

unknown

"there's a sickening feeling of familiarity, when the wrong person knows you too well and you know them too well. and they weren't always the wrong person."

unknown

"we don't mean to hurt each other, but we do. and perhaps no matter how right we are for each other, we'll always be a little wrong."

Beau Taplin

Regina and Cady

"i am intense darkness and you are a golden sunrise."

Arijit Singh and Pritam

"even before you touched me, i belonged to you; all you had to do was look at me."

unknown

"whether you come as a lover or an executioner, i am ready to receive you."

Agustin Gomez-Arcos

"for the longest time, i saw myself as a bad person. you don't know how much it meant to me when you looked at me and could see the good."

unknown

"but i have seen the best of you and the worst of you, and i choose both."

Sarah Kay

"i promised myself i would never fall in love with you. but it was 4 am, and we were laughing way too hard, and i felt happy for the first time in a long time, and i knew i was screwed."

unknown

Gretchen and Karen

"i would rather be with you - even the you that you seem to think is diminished - than with anyone else in the world."

Jojo Moyes

"it hurts, he realizes, to love someone who can't love themselves. like watching a work of art set itself on fire."

unknown

"how amazing it is to find someone who wants to hear about all the things that go on in your head."

Nina LaCour

"come love, make me better than i was. come teach me a kinder way to say my own name."

Andrea Gibson

"i wanted you to see a mess and still find me worthy of love, to tell me that you could still love me anyway."

Georges Bataille

"sometimes, love is as simple as watching the moon and sometimes its as difficult as counting the stars. but i love doing both for you."

unknown

Janis and Damian

"you may be born into a family, but you walk into friendships. some you'll discover you should put behind you. others are worth every risk."

Adam Silvera

Regina and Gretchen

"but i am very homesick for arms that have never held me."

unknown

"i burned so long so quiet you must have wondered if i loved you back. i did, i did, i do."

Annelyse Gelman

"so i wait for you like a lonely house till you will see me again and live in me. till then my windows ache."

Pablo Neruda

"how do you tell someone that the reason you're sad is because you love them?"

unknown

55 notes · View notes

thelvsickgirl · 1 month

Note

Hi Sofia.

I know you know who I am. I keep it anon because I don't want people to know who I am and why Im writing you for.

I know you're a busy person, and you won't respond me in a while, but I just wanted to ask you one thing: Can you please write a Jude fic?

Just one. You know why im asking you this. I know you're an amazing writer, and I just want people to see that as well.

Do it with whatever idea you have in mind, and whenever you feel comfortable doing so.

Thank you.

-🐾

Hey. I definitely know who you are ms. anon. I hope you like it, because it took me several weeks to do. Way longer than i expected this to turn out, but i guess it turned out great.

letting you in.

word count: yes.

tw: a bit of angst, divorced parents, toxic household (kinda)

genres: fluff, angst (not ready to make my debut w smut)

------

: It seems like a perfect relationship, but what will you do when the ghosts of your past haunt you, making your self confidence's walls crumble?

-----

In the heart of a vibrant city, amidst the roar of enthusiastic fans and the energy of the football stadium, there existed a bustling sports bar named "Offside" It was a sanctuary for those seeking the thrill of the game and the camaraderie of fellow supporters. Among its regular patrons was a young woman named y/n, whose passion for football matched that of the most ardent fan.

But Y/n's love for the game wasn't merely a casual interest; it was a lifeline, a refuge from the storms that had raged in her past. Born into a family plagued by dysfunction and discord, y/n had learned from an early age to bury her emotions beneath a façade of strength and resilience. Her parents' tumultuous relationship had cast a shadow over her childhood, leaving her with deep-seated insecurities and a fear of abandonment.

As she navigated the turbulent waters of adolescence, Y/n sought solace in the world of football, finding comfort in the rhythm of the game and the camaraderie of fellow fans. It was on the pitch that she felt truly alive, her worries melting away as she cheered on her favorite team with unwavering devotion.

But despite her outward bravado, y/n carried the scars of her past—a past marked by loss and heartache. Her parents' bitter divorce had shattered her world, leaving her adrift in a sea of uncertainty and despair. And though she tried to bury the pain beneath a veneer of indifference, the wounds remained raw and unhealed, a constant reminder of the fragility of love.

As she entered adulthood, y/n found herself drifting aimlessly, unable to shake the feeling of emptiness that gnawed at her soul. She threw herself into her studies and her job, hoping to distract herself from the turmoil within. But no matter how hard she tried to outrun her demons, they always seemed to catch up with her, dragging her back into the depths of despair.

"Why am I not good enough?"

------

It was on a fateful matchday evening, as y/n sat alone at the sports bar, drowning her sorrows in a sea of beer and cheers, that she first laid eyes on him. Jude Bellingham, the star player of her favorite football team, stood at the bar, his presence commanding the attention of everyone in the room. Despite his fame and fortune, he seemed strangely out of place, his gaze betraying a hint of vulnerability beneath the mask of confidence.

As y/n watched him from afar, a spark of recognition ignited within her—a sense of kinship born from shared struggles and silent battles fought in the shadows. She knew all too well the weight of expectations, the suffocating pressure to conform to society's standards. And though their worlds seemed worlds apart, she couldn't shake the feeling that they were more alike than they appeared.

Summoning her courage, she approached Jude, her heart pounding in her chest. "Hi," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "I'm y/n. Can I buy you a drink?"

To her surprise, Jude smiled gratefully, his eyes lighting up with genuine warmth. "I'd like that," he replied, his voice tinged with relief.

Their conversation flowed effortlessly as they bonded over their shared love for the game, and y/n found herself drawn to Jude in ways she couldn't explain. Despite his celebrity status, he was remarkably down-to-earth, his humility and kindness shining through with every word he spoke. She couldn't stop analysing his chiseled face features, eyeing down every part of him.

As the evening wore on, y/n and Jude discovered a connection that transcended fame and fortune, their shared passion for football forging a bond that felt destined to withstand the test of time. They laughed and joked like old friends, their worries and insecurities melting away in each other's presence.

"This place is way too crowded. Mind to go on a walk?" Jude asked, frowning as some hooligans threw beer jugs to the floor as the local team missed a penalty.

"Please."

With a mischievous grin, Jude led her to a hidden rooftop oasis, where the city skyline stretched out before them in a breathtaking panorama. In a bold and impulsive move, he leaned in, capturing y/n 's lips in a spontaneous kiss—a gesture fueled by the intoxicating rush of the moment.

Though taken aback, the girl felt a surge of exhilaration as their lips met—a whirlwind of emotions colliding in the space between them. And as they lingered in each other's embrace, the city whispered its secrets, weaving their fates together in the tapestry of the night.

----

Their budding relationship blossomed quickly as they explored the city together, attending matches and immersing themselves in the electric atmosphere of the country's stadiums. Jude, ever the gentleman, often surprised y/n with tickets to VIP events and exclusive gatherings, eager to share his world with her.

One memorable evening, the man invited her to join him in the VIP section of his home stadium, a gesture that left her speechless with excitement. As they watched the game from their plush seats, surrounded by the glittering lights of the city skyline, y/n couldn't help but feel like she was living in a dream.

But their moment of bliss was short-lived, as they were soon accosted by paparazzi eager to capture their every move. Flashes of light blinded the girl as reporters bombarded them with questions, their invasive inquiries threatening to shatter the illusion of privacy they had worked so hard to maintain.

Fearing for y/n 's safety, Jude would usually usher her away from the chaos, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive. Despite the intrusion, she couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude for Jude's unwavering support, his reassuring presence serving as a beacon of hope in the midst of chaos.

As they retreated to the sanctuary of the player's home, y/n found herself overwhelmed by a whirlwind of emotions—gratitude, awe, and an overwhelming sense of love for the remarkable man standing beside her. In that moment, amidst the chaos of the outside world, she knew that she had found something worth fighting for—a love that transcended fame and fortune, a love that was as boundless as the sky above them.

But even as they basked in the glow of their newfound happiness, a shadow loomed on the horizon, threatening to tear them apart. The girl's past, with its ghosts and demons, resurfaced with a vengeance, casting a pall over their relationship.

Haunted by memories of her tumultuous childhood, y/n found herself consumed by doubt and insecurity, her fears driving a wedge between her and Jude. Despite his best efforts to reassure her, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was unworthy of his love—that she was destined to repeat the mistakes of her past.

As tensions simmered between them, Jude struggled to break through y/n's defenses, his heart aching with the knowledge that she was slipping away from him. Desperate to salvage their relationship, he suggested couples therapy, hoping to address the underlying issues that had driven them apart.

Reluctantly, she agreed, her heart heavy with guilt and regret. But as they delved into the depths of their shared history, confronting the traumas that had shaped their lives, she found herself unraveling before his eyes, her carefully constructed walls crumbling beneath the weight of her emotions.

And yet, amidst the tears and the turmoil, there was a glimmer of hope—a flicker of light in the darkness that threatened to consume them. For in each other's arms, they found solace and strength, their love a beacon of hope in a world fraught with uncertainty.

As they emerged from the crucible of therapy, battered but unbroken, y/n and Jude found themselves more deeply in love than ever before. And though their journey was short and had been fraught with challenges and obstacles, they knew that they had emerged stronger and more resilient, their bond forged in the fires of adversity.

And as they stood hand in hand, just cuddled beneath the covers of his bed, the girl knew that she had found her victory—the greatest victory of all: love. And Jude, with a smile that could light up the darkest of nights, knew that he had found something even more precious than fame or fortune—he had found his home in the arms of the woman he loved.

#jude bellingham #jude victor willliam bellingham #sofia’s bar #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham x reader #angst #fluff #jude bellingham fluff #fanfic

54 notes · View notes

scuttling · 10 months

Text

Frayed Ends

Fandom: Supernatural Pairings: Dean Winchester/Female Reader Word Count: 1,527 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Unprotected sex, Mentions of impending death Summary: It's the end of the world again; where better to find comfort than Dean Winchester's arms? A/N: Sometimes Dean's just too pretty to ignore.

Keep reading below or link to AO3!

Staring out the window of the battered old motel, looking into the darkening sky, you try to count the number of life-or-death situations you’ve been in in the last year. You’ve been mortally wounded in battle, only to be healed by angelic figures that don’t quite live up to expectations; possessed by demons who are surprisingly more forthcoming than their winged counterparts; ripped to shreds by creatures with claws and fangs, things that are both as terrifying as the stories say and so much more complicated than most people know.

A loud crack of thunder booms, lightning splits the sky, and a warm hand presses firmly against the middle of your back. None of those things make you jump, not anymore.

“So,” Dean begins, reaching out to hand you a tumbler of whiskey—the good stuff, a high-dollar, top-shelf single malt. “Last night on Earth.”

You take the glass from him and peer into into it, through the rich brown liquid, before sipping the liquor, letting it burn smoothly, slowly; it seems like an oxymoron, but precisely what you need now, in the eleventh hour, when it feels like the world is about to fall to ashes at your feet. Again.

“That line work for you often?” you ask, half-teasing, and you down the rest of the alcohol. A shrug of his shoulders and a cocked half-smile tells you all you need to know. "Right, of course. Apocalyptic situation plus a rugged, handsome man who did his very best to prevent our impending doom... I imagine it isn't ever hard for you to get laid, but it's gotta be damn near impossible to be turned down under conditions like these."

He empties his own glass with a smack of his lips, leaning his shoulder against the wall beside you, and smiles gently. It’s different from his usual grin, because it changes the look of his eyes, touching only the corners and making it appear as though it would physically hurt him to keep it up much longer.

He’s not being a creep, hitting on you when you’re vulnerable—you know because you know him, have been traveling the road off and on with him and Sam and occasionally Cas for over a year now. This is about desperation, a vain attempt to cling to something as your doomsday clock ticks down to zero, to connect with another person one more time before you reach the proverbial end of the road.

"You tell me,” he finally says, voice as rough and broken as you’d expect. You look away from his face abruptly, this open, emotional version of the man you’ve been kicking ass and trading sarcastic quips with making your stomach turn. He’s a good guy, no doubt about that, and he doesn’t deserve the life he’s been saddled with, or all the pain and misery that comes with it. He lived for his family, Sam, and now they are apart—no more angel teleportation, no more gas stations, no more cell service—and the end is so near you can see it in the darkening swirl of his green eyes, the tightness of his jaw.

Apparently the booze hasn’t slowed down your motor functions any, because you’re turning to press a hand to his chest before the thought has fully formed in your mind.

"I'd be honored, Dean Winchester," you breathe, pushing a hand softly through his hair; he inhales, lips parted and eyes flicking curiously over your face, before leaning down for a careful, gentle kiss.

Both of his arms wrap around you, embracing you warmly, and you slip your tongue into his mouth, giving yourself over to his strong arms and stubble without a second thought. It isn’t exactly a hardship, sleeping with the brave, honorable, beautiful hunter, and if it makes him feel even a fraction better about the whole dying bloody thing, how can you refuse?

"Thank you." It’s a sandpaper whisper pressed lightly against your lips, and one of his hands moves to cradle your head as the kiss deepens. He tastes bittersweet, a blend of mint and whiskey, and is far more tender than you would have imagined, taking soft sips of your bottom lip between toe-curling, passionate kisses. You push the light-colored flannel off of his shoulders, pleased with the muted groan he expels against your neck, and wrap your arms around his back like you can’t get close enough, can’t get enough of him.

He lifts you easily, of course, like you’re as weightless as you’re starting to feel, brings you to the bed and covers your body with his, hands ghosting over your throat and your face, down your arms, over your chest, your sides. The kisses grow rougher, needier, deeper on both your parts, and when you pull the soft, worn t-shirt over his head you press your fingertips into his skin, drag him closer, body begging for more.

“Dean… yes,” you sigh as he nips at your neck, your earlobe, his teeth sharp but careful. You move your hands over his stomach, his chest, the back of his head, pulling him to your mouth for more slow, wet kisses like you’ll find the solution to all of your problems inside him—or maybe that you want him to find it inside you. It’s a heady, dizzy feeling, and he feels it too, moaning into the kiss when you shift up to your knees, pulling your own t-shirt over your head.

“I need you,” he rasps, looking over your body, with all of its scars and bruises, like it’s a map of all the places you’ve been together. You unhook your bra, let it fall away, and then unbuckle his belt, help him strip down before removing the rest of your clothes too.

You feel a flush of heat when you’re both bare, not nervousness or shyness, but something you don’t have a name for, not yet; you probably never will, now so close to the end, so you just bask in the feeling that he’s all yours, that in your last moments you will be as connected as two people can be. That even if you die in vain, you won’t be dying alone.

You’d ask about protection right about now, but don’t see the point, considering the circumstances; instead, you climb into his lap and weave your fingers into his hair, kiss him so thoroughly he has to know you’re doing this because you want to and not just because he’d asked. Your nails graze over his shoulders, into his hair, murmur his name, and his soft lips become hard and unyielding as he kisses you breathless, like he wants it to mean something.

He lays you back against the bed, still made up from the day, and you let him, pulling your knees up so he can settle in close to you, so you can feel his body tense beneath your hands and he presses into you, fills you completely. “Fuck,” he grinds out, and his mouth finds yours again, his kisses softer, sweeter as he starts to move.

For the first time, you’re glad it’s pretty much just the two of you left in this desolate town; neither of you are quiet as you fuck, gasping and moaning and whining puffs of breath into the air between you. The sounds of your sex echo in the room—the groan of the bed frame, the sticky wetness soaking your thighs, Dean’s mouth as it runs about your beauty and your pussy and how heavenly you feel.

The room is so hot, your skin slick with sweat, his too, and he takes your hands in his and presses them up over your head, against the bed, holding you down with the force of his body as you both chase the feeling that you’re close to something big.

“Oh god, more, Dean, please,” you plead, hitching your legs up higher, tightening them around him as he thrusts quicker, deep and smooth. “You’re so good, so good, Dean.”

“You have to come for me. You have–” He lifts one of his hands away from your pinned wrists and strokes your cheek with it, brushing his thumb over your lips. His eyes are lighter now, honeyed, but still flooded with emotion as he combines tenderness with roughness and brings you so close to climax you can feel it pulsing beneath your skin. “You’re glowing,” he chokes out before his orgasm rips through him, strong enough to make him shake above you, and he leans in for a kiss that turns into your own climax, something powerful that makes you ache down to your bones.

You whimper against his shoulder as he slows, and he releases your arms, pulls them around him so you embrace as you pant through it together. You feel both completely spent and filled with buzzing energy, and when he looks down at you his expression is… awed. There’s no way to mistake that face for anything else.

“Holy shit. I think that worked,” he says, almost astonished, and then his phone vibrates on the bedside table and you turn simultaneously to look over at the glowing screen.

Sam.

A/N: Didn't mean for this fic to mean anything or to lead to anything more, but it kind of did, so who knows?

#dean winchester #dean winchester fanfic #supernatural #supernatural fanfic #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female reader

151 notes · View notes

call-me-a-simp · 1 year

Text

Heal My Wounds

Shower (Part 16)

Rhea Ripley x Reader

Tw: physical and sexual abuse, toxic relationship, selfharm, eating disorder

Summary: You are in a toxic relationship with an abusive man but manage to run away. A tall, black haired woman picks you up from the streets just in time so your ex doesn't get you. But who is she and why does she seem so familiar to you? As you get to know each other you start to notice weird feelings you never had before whenever she's around.

"Hey baby" Rhea says and kisses you on the cheek. "Hey" you smile. "Okay, listen, I know you have a problem with alcohol but-"

"Rhea what have you done?" you ask in a slightly annoyed but still joking tone. "What? Nothing why would think that" she laughs and tickles you.

"Hey" you fight a little. Rhea laughs and continues to explain "okay, so, what I actually wanted to ask you was, the boys and I would go to a bar later and have some fun and I'd like you to come with us"

You wrap your arms around yourself and look down. "Rhea I-" "Hey, I know you have some troubles but I promise we'll take care of you and everything and we won't drink too much" she calms you down.

"okay fine" you whisper after some hesitation. "You don't have to do this because of me, just so you know. I want you to do it because you want to, because we could work on overcoming your fears and your past you know?" your girlfriend says, gently grabbing your chin and tilting it upwards so you look at her.

" I know" you reply "Okay" she smiles. "We still have some time, maybe we could use that" she smirks and places her hands on your hips to pull you towards her.

"God you're so needy all the time" you mock her. She pouts a little "It's only fair, I had to wait pretty long don't you think?"

"Ye, so you're used to it and can wait a little longer" you tease her and free yourself from her grip to take a few steps back.

She just stares at you. You laugh and take her hand to get her to follow you. "Idk how much time we have left but it'll sure be enough for a shower, right?"

Her face immediately brightens up and she happily follows you into the bathroom. You turn around to kiss her and slowly move your hands under her shirt.

You pull it up and over her head "and you're not even wearing a bra, what did I even expect" you laugh. She pushes you back playfully and your back hits the glass wall of the shower.

You're a little shocked at first but it quickly turns into arousal as soon as you see her approaching you with a smirk.

She's standing right in front of you now and grabs your hands to place them over your head.

You keep them there and she slowly removes your top whilst kissing you passionately. "God I want you so bad" she groans against your lips.

You chuckle "too bad, cause this will only be a shower" you grin at her disappointed face "Sorry baby, but maybe, if you do good, I'll reward you when we come back" you whisper and smirk.

Rhea blushes and looks away. "Since when are you such Dom..?" she complains more to herself than to you. But she couldn't deny, it kinda turned her on.

"Okay, fine" she says as confident as usual and looks back up. She removes the rest of her clothes, steps into the shower and turns the water on.

You join her and she spins you around so your back is against her chest. She takes a sponge, puts some body wash on it and begins to wash you down.

"We'll see if you're still gonna be this dominant after this night" she growls in your ear. You shiver at her sudden words.

She gently kisses the crook of your neck to let you know that this wasn't a threat or anything. You relax again and rest your body against hers.

Rhea continues to wash you down and kiss you and you just enjoy being there with her. You close your eyes and tilt your head back so it lays against her shoulder.

"I love you" you say. Rhea smiles and kisses your neck. "I love you too" she responds.

You finish showering and get dressed. "Where are we going actually?" you ask her. "I don't know to be honest. The boys chose a bar, they should text me the address any minute by now" she replies and finishes her hair.

She's done her black and purple ring makeup and wears black ripped jeans and a back shirt with a harness on top.

You decided to go with a simple back dress, it's pretty short and shows a lot.

Normally you wouldn't dare to wear something like that but with rhea you felt confident enough.

"You look good" she smirks. "You too" you reply sheepishly. She grabs her keys and takes your hand in hers to walk you to the car.

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

Sorry you had to wait so long for art 16, got a lot going on right now ^^'

Taglist:@babybatlover @legit9thlunaticwarrior @thatonepansexual2000

#demi bennett #rhea ripley #rhea ripley x reader #wrestling #wwe x reader #ex boyfriend #fear #damian priest #dominik mysterio #finn balor #alcohol #showering #gxg fluff #gxg scenarios #gxg #the judgement day wwe

147 notes · View notes

allmoshnobrain · 3 months

Text

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

part 29 of 35 | masterpost

word count: 2563 | ao3 link | fic's playlist

I wasn't ready for any of that. The wounds from losing Dave were still too raw, to the point that acknowledging the desire I felt for James made my heart tighten with regret. What the hell was I thinking? I'd chosen Dave. And yet, he’d left me. What I wanted didn't mean shit in changing anything. How could I want anything from James when the very feeling I had for him had wrecked everything I held dear?

✦ summary: After reuniting with her friends, Nore is compelled to confront the conflicting feelings she still harbors for James.

✦ on this chapter: dave mustaine x female!oc, james hetfield x female! oc, oc is cliff's cousin, +18, language, slice of life, angst, love triangle

✦ a/n: Hello! I've talked about this previously on my blog, but as we're headed into the last stretch of the story, I would like everyone to know: while the next few chapters are gonna dive into James and Nore's feelings a bit more, Dave will be back! His story with Nore isn't over yet. Also, we'll have an epilogue that is still on the works. I've wrapped up the main part of the story and I'm hosting a poll to see if you guys prefer I keep posting new chapters once a week or if you're up for me posting them twice a week. If anyone wants to vote, here's the link. Hope you enjoyed the read, any feedback is welcome! 🖤

✧ There's something hanging in the air, I won't say shit 'cause I'm too scared / I'll just pretend we're two lovers not destroying each other / And you don't want me to go, and I just can't say no ✧

I met with Cliff and the guys at Los Angeles airport a few days later. I have to admit, the idea of reuniting with my friends after all those weeks left me a bit on edge, and not fully in a good way. However, catching up with Cliff and Leanne, and then with Kirk and Lars, did ease some of that tension. On the flip side, seeing Pat and James hanging out together didn't really help my state of mind. I couldn't help but wonder how, in just two months, they had become so close that she got an invitation to join the tour. Then it hit me with a pang in my heart that I hadn't needed much more than that to fall completely in love with Dave after meeting him.

I didn't really chat it up much with James. Seeing him with Pat kinda brought back all the wounds from that rainy weekend a few months back. But, he did give me a hug the moment he spotted me, holding onto me for maybe a beat longer than needed before whispering, his lips right by my ear:

"Missed you so much."

Hearing that sure didn't make things easier.

Seeing the guys all pumped up about the trip gave my mood a little boost. None of them, except Lars and me, had done the whole international travel thing before. The flight to Amsterdam was gonna be a marathon, so I had plenty of time to catch up with Leanne, who picked the seat next to mine. We mainly talked about everything that had happened in San Francisco during my absence; Leanne didn't ask much about me, which I was genuinely thankful for. It was nice having her around, but I wasn't really up for diving into how the last few months had been a rough ride. We kept the chatter going deep into the night until fatigue finally caught up with us, and we crashed.

We rolled into Amsterdam about twelve hours later, and man, we were wiped. Headed straight to the hotel, and lucky for us, the producers only snagged double rooms. Since we had an odd number and sharing a bed with Kirk or Lars wasn't my jam, I lucked out with a double bed all to myself. Honestly, better than I thought it'd be.

When night crept in, the guys and Leanne hit the town for some drinks and city exploring. Pat and I, though, opted for a chill night in, catching a few movies on the TV. Not that I wasn't up for hitting the streets, but all the hours spent on the plane did a number on me, more than I expected. Pat called it a night and went back to her room early, but I left the TV humming in the background, not really paying much attention to what was on.

It was well past midnight when I heard some heavy footsteps echoing down the hallway. My curiosity kicked in as a few deliberate knocks hit my door, and I pondered for a moment, debating whether I should bother answering. But the knocks persisted, and my curiosity won out. With a sigh, I rose from my spot and opened the door. My heart quickened when I found James leaning casually against the door frame.

"Mind if I come in?" he asked, a faint smile playing on his lips, though his voice betrayed a touch of uncertainty. I sighed, feeling warmth spread across my face. Having him so close made my heart flutter in a way I hadn't experienced in a while.

"This isn't your room," I mumbled, stupidly, my ability to think straight suddenly on vacation. He chuckled softly, a quick, dry laugh.

"If you hadn't said anything, I would never have guessed. Can I come in or not?"

I hesitated but eventually stepped aside, letting him in and closing the door. He stretched, shrugged off his jacket, and tossed it on my bed before settling down, kicking off his shoes. I furrowed my brow.

"You should head back to your room. Pat's probably waiting for you."

"She can wait," he said, finishing up with his shoes and pulling out a hair tie from his pocket, using it to secure his hair into a ponytail. Oddly, the sight made him even more attractive. I couldn't help but wonder if the hair tie belonged to Pat, who would often wear her hair tied up, and if he was picking up some habits from his new girlfriend. He stood up, seeming totally oblivious to my thoughts, and casually opened the mini-fridge, grabbing a Coke and popping it open. Then, he lifted his serious blue eyes to me. "I wanted to see you."

"Why?" I questioned, feeling my face warm up and my heart race, a million butterflies in my stomach going wild at his words. He sighed, a faint bitter smile playing on his lips.

"I missed you," he said, his voice low. "Last time we met, everything went south. I thought you hated me. Yet, when I saw you today, Nore..."

"James, please stop," I murmured, my voice trembling. He furrowed his brow, looking away, seeming hurt by my words, and I felt my heart squeeze uncomfortably in my chest. "You shouldn't be saying that."

"Oh, really?" He stood up, placing the can he was holding on the table before coming closer. I took a step back, feeling my face burn as I caught the storm brewing in his blue eyes. "And why’s that?"

"You have a girlfriend, don’t you?" I questioned, my voice holding accusation and hurt. "You brought your fucking girlfriend, so maybe you should just head back to her..."

"You make it sound so simple," he growled, taking another step closer, prompting me to lift my head to meet his gaze.

"And isn’t it?" I shot back, my tone bitter. "How aren't you ashamed of this?"

"Ashamed of what? Of bringing the girl I started dating to try forgetting about you?" he scoffed, clearly pissed now. "Tell me, Nore, what was I supposed to do? Just watch you reject me, again, and again, and again, and then act like you loved me just to mess with my head?"

"This isn’t fair to her!" I blurted out, all worked up, my voice getting louder. "This isn’t fair to me!"

"And what about me? Is it fair what you're pulling on me?"

"I don't get why you thought bringing her along was a genius move..."

"It didn't have to be genius. When you bailed on LA, I called you for days. You were the one who wanted nothing to do with me."

"You're such a jerk!" I spat out, my irritation cranking my voice up more than would be okay for past midnight, but honestly, I'd stopped caring about that ages ago.

James growled, getting suddenly closer, gripping my waist with one hand and pulling me against his body, forcing me to look deep into his eyes as he pressed his forehead against mine, his breathing erratic. His other hand cupped my cheek, his thumb tracing my lower lip. All the anger I had seemed to spill over at that moment; I wanted to punch him, to kick him out, to yell I never wanted to see him again, but I couldn't. Not when his lips were inches away from mine, his blue eyes locking onto mine with a fiery passion that made my whole body warm and vibrate inside.

"You fucking love me," he murmured, a smug smile slowly creeping across his lips. "Things would be so much easier if you just admitted it."

"Shut up, James," I growled, my heart doing a sprint in my chest, blood pulsing with fury in my ears, my hands clutching the front of his shirt and yanking him towards me. I needed him to split; I didn't know how much longer I could trust my anger to hold back the temptation of surrendering to his arms.

"Tell me you don't love me, then," he said, throwing in a sarcastic laugh. "Say you don't love me, and I’ll forget all this and leave you alone. You can't, can you? Because you fucking love me, damn it," His words buzzed with almost unrestrained joy, his grip on my waist tightening enough for me to let out a muffled moan from between my lips. Damn, I wanted him to kiss me. For the first time since all that mess had started, I wanted him to kiss me, to touch me, to make me forget my own name.

"Leave," I shot back, the defiance in my voice wavering as I sensed his body against mine. He let out a low chuckle but stepped back, his eyes ablaze, a smug smile on his face. I rested one of my hands on my chest, feeling my heart thudding against my fingertips, and noticed I was shaking. Gripping the doorknob with my other hand, I turned it but hesitated to open the door. "Just... Go, James. Please," I whispered, the adrenaline of the moment wearing off, and the old pain flooding back to fill my chest as my eyes welled up with tears.

James seemed to catch onto my shift in mood, the triumph in his eyes giving way to pity when he noticed my tears building up. That sparked a rage in my chest; I didn't need his pity. I didn't need anyone's pity.

He made a move to come closer, but I just shook my head, turning away as I opened the door. After he left, I leaned against the closed door, letting myself slide down to sit on the floor, hugging my knees to my chest, feeling more alone, confused, and guilty than ever.

I woke up the next morning, feeling like I hadn't caught a wink of sleep. I groaned my way out of bed, pausing only to wash my face, brush my teeth, and swap outfits before heading down to the hotel's restaurant. There, I spotted Kirk, Lars, Cliff and Leanne already posted up at a table, digging into breakfast. I snagged a plate and plopped down next to Lars.

“After breakfast, we'll pack our bags and grab a shower. We're hitting the road after the show for the next city, so tonight, we’re all gonna be sleeping on the bus,” Cliff was laying out the plan when I rolled in.

“Great. Even crashing on a bus is cozier than sharing a bed with Lars,” Kirk griped, ignoring Lars' offended expression before shooting me a grin. “Hey, Nore, fancy bunking with me next time?”

"As if," I scoffed, and Lars burst into laughter.

"Hey, where's James?" Kirk asked, and I shrugged. Leanne bounced up to snag a hot cup of coffee, and Cliff sparked up a cigarette.

"Bet he's sleeping with Pat. Ever since they got together, she's been glued to him," Lars remarked, not looking too thrilled. Cliff snorted, rolling his eyes.

"Jealous, Lars?" I jokingly tossed the question while slathering butter on a piece of toast. He shot me a look, raising his eyebrows with a smirk.

"Hmm, not me. Can't say the same for you, though, huh?" His ironic smile lingered. I let out a frustrated huff, rolling my eyes, feeling the heat rising in my cheeks. Okay, maybe I walked right into that one.

A few minutes later, James and Pat finally strolled in. James, much like me, seemed to have had a rough night, evident in the dark circles under his tired blue eyes. On the flip side, Pat appeared to be the poster child for joy, easy smiles appearing on her lips as she talked to James, occasionally hugging his arm or intertwining her fingers with his. It was like she exuded confidence, as if she knew this was exactly where she belonged. Kind of got on my nerves, but I wasn't ready to dig into why.

The hustle for the show kicked off right after breakfast. We only had a short break to change and pack before heading back to the hotel lobby. A producer-arranged bus was set to pick us up, transporting everyone to a studio for the guys to rehearse the setlist during the day, and later to the venue for the shows. This leg of the journey got us all pumped. It wasn't just the band's inaugural international gig; we were also looking forward to meeting Venom and, naturally, enjoying some complimentary drinks. I must admit, even I was feeling a twinge of excitement and anxiety about the upcoming events.

I sparked up a cigarette while we hung out in front of the hotel, checking out the guys in action. They were teamed up with a couple of roadies, hauling gear that had been lugged up to the rooms the day before. Leanne strolled over.

"Got a light?" she asked, flashing a grin. I nodded, fished out my lighter, and passed it her way. She sparked up her cigarette, taking a few drags till it glowed. "Can I ask you something, Nore?"

"Sure thing, Lea," I replied, all curious. She shot me a look, her usual relaxed vibe getting a bit serious. Her eyes narrowed, like she was attempting to peek into my brain. "Spill it, what's on your mind?"

"How's it all sitting with you? You know, this whole James situation?" she asked, making me feel like there was a spotlight on me.

"James? What do you mean?" I stammered, feeling the heat hit my face. She let out a soft chuckle at my reaction.

"I'm seriously wondering how she hasn't picked up on it yet." Leanne nodded toward Pat; she was holding James’ hand and talking to Lars, who seemed bored out of his mind, like he'd rather be doing anything else. "The way he looks at you. And the way you look at him."

"What are you getting at?" I whispered, my heart doing a somersault of sorts in my chest.

"You're into him, right? And it's crystal he's into you. Maybe you two should ditch the pride act and just… Allow yourselves to be happy."

"But Pat likes him too," I mumbled, letting a touch of annoyance creep into my voice. And I still don't know if I can allow myself to like anyone again.

"Honestly? I think she's crushing harder on James Hetfield, the Metallica frontman, than our James," she said with a chuckle. "Babe, you and James always clicked so easy. You seriously gonna let that slip away like this?"

I was kind of stumped for a response; right then, the bus rolled up, stealing everyone's focus. Lea crushed her cigarette and shot me a smile, then sauntered over to Cliff, offering a hand with carrying an amp. I took a minute to soak in the sight before joining them, attempting to shove aside the tornado of feelings Leanne's words had kicked up in me.

✧ if you'd like to be tagged on the next parts, let me know and I'll add you to the tag list! ❤ ✧

tag list: @killazilla777 @whatsupvic @70srogah @genswine9

39 notes · View notes

athanwritesthings · 3 months

Text

Bad News || Fem!Reader x Wade Barrett

Summary: You're in over you head again tonight, and, in the chaos of it all, end up with a busted and bruised lip that wasn't planned for. --word count: 910. -- warnings/tw: mentions of bl00d. -- A/N: i'm a bit rusty on writing as it's been ages, though i'm convinced to try and make a few chapters/parts/continuation of this. it's a bit shorter than i hope, but enjoy nonetheless!

On multiple occasion, I had found myself in a situation I shouldn't of been in. A fight was an often occurrence between myself and Rhea, a consistent thorn in the other's side. Often enough, I was told I always had a knack for indirectly instigating things I shouldn't, even if it wasn't my intention in the first place.

Our fights accompanied nearly half of our interactions, and it was always a flip flop on if we'd actually get into a brawl or not. In this instance though, in all of the chaos, in all of the fighting, I hadn't been careful enough, lucky enough, to miss a punch from Rhea, leading my own lips to her balled up fist.

I had stumbled back, shocked at the sudden connection, before the actual thought crossed my mind that she had done it, Rhea bloody Ripley had punched me. It was a solid five seconds before my body and mind synced, my body finally moving to attack back, not realizing my lip, now busted, and soon, bruised, had begun gushing blood.

It didn't take long for security and other staff to rush in upon hearing the scuffle, followed with us yelling at the top of our lungs at the other as they pulled us apart.

"Break it up, ladies, break it up!" Yelled the all too familiar voice of Pearce, not daring to step too in the middle, yet help as much as he could. It almost had gotten to the point that Rhea slipped out to come for another punch, only to be yanked back again and, this time, officially held back.

"You're dead meat, Y/N! Dead meat!" Rhea's voice had yelled at me, through the sudden wave of workers. "I'm going to kick your ass!"

I scoff, laughing and smiling through the blood that ran like a river from my lip. "I'd like to see you try!" I snipped back at her, security pulling me the opposite direction.

Once the scuffle was under control, it didn't take long for Adam to bark orders, demanding security took me to medical to get treated. One of the medical personnel, Jason was his name, I believe, started quickly on getting the bleeding stopped, a couple other personnel helping as they could.

Adam, once he had ensured Rhea was gone and no longer near, came into medical soon after, my gaze, dark and unhappy, landing on him as he walked in. At this point, the bleeding had been stopped, and they were cleaning the wound. "So good news is, you and Rhea are battling this out next week, should your busted lip be better." He starts, hands on his hips. Does he really think a match will solve everything that's happened up to this moment? I thought to myself, before shrugging off the thought.

I stick my head out at him slightly, as I waited, expecting to hear some sort of bad news to come from him, yet none came. "Is there… any bad news?" Uncertainty laced my voice, keeping still as much as I could for Jason.

"Not exactly." There was this look on Adam's face, knowing there wasn't anything that was particularly bad from his part, but yet, couldn't really say if whatever was to happen was bad or not. That was reassuring. "Wade's not exactly happy." I roll my eyes, Jason stepping aside for a moment, grabbing an ice pack to hand me. 'You'll have some swelling and bruising, holding this to your lip for a little,' he told me. No doubt that Wade managed to get Saxxton to sit in for him. "As soon as he saw your busted lip on the screen, he wanted back here."

"That adds up…" I thank Jason as he steps aside. It didn't take long to hear Wade's demanding voice approaching, thundering through the hallways. My head swings to the open door, seeing Wade's frame come into the doorway. His face is in a scowl, as usual in situations like this.

In a couple long strides, he stood in front of me, his pointer finger and thumb pinching my chin as he lifts my head up, instinctively moving the ice pack away from my lip. "You are always bad news, Y/N. How do you keep getting into these situations?" Anger tinged Wade's voice, yet it sounded like his voice had softened and quieted at the same time. "I tell you to not get into situations like this."

I can't do anything else but stare. Wade's own gaze was focused on gauging my busted lip, yet my eyes watched his. For a man so angry at me, the concern was comforting, despite him calling me bad news. On many occasion, Wade would parade around and say he'd come back to wrestle, just so he'd be around me to ensure I had some level headedness in my life and that I was protected.

As much as that was wished for by myself, I knew better. He loved his role as a commentator, and that was something I didn't want to see him set aside for me.

Wade's gaze connects with mine, an almost unreadable look in them as he stared at me. His voice low, he says one simple thing to me, one simple thing that stuck, his almost vindictive tone shining through. "If this can all simply be avoided by me being back out there wrestling with you and protecting you… Don't you dare think for one second that I won't pull on those boots again, Y/N…"

#wwe fanfiction #wwe #wade barrett #wade barrett x reader #wwe x reader #wwe x y/n

23 notes · View notes

fortunatetragedy · 5 days

Text

alright kids out of the pool it's 18+ nsfw shit time.

i'm procrastinating editing what i wrote earlier, so i went back into the previous draft of book 1 to find this vintage third draft version of a love scene that had to get completely rewritten bc sullivan fucked up the 1872 timeline with his autonomy.

for all the awkward love scene enjoyers in the house, here are 3,585 words of a sexually inexperienced 38-year-old having his first time with his older psychopath boyfriend. with mild transdimensional fuckery. that are going to end up in a junk drawer bc this is not how it plays out in the working draft at all lol.

stay hydrated.

The stairs behind The German House felt longer than he remembered, and darker. But for the steam-choked kitchen window, every portal Sullivan passed on his way to Royston's was cold and lightless. Felt as though he were sneaking past Melanie and everyone else inside, and found it did not matter.

He hit the balcony and took three steps before Royston opened his door with purposeful composure. It framed him as the picture of patience within its glow, though the flush to his cheeks suggested he had run up the stairs upon having the hour pointed out to him, or spying him out the kitchen window.

"Darling," Royston purred.

"Mister."

Rather than taking Sullivan into his arms the moment the door closed, Royston strode across the room, kicking off his loafers as he went. Sullivan realized he had been hoping Royston would embrace him, and yet he was not disappointed. It would have been nice, if everyone was wrong and that was the sort of man Arthur Royston was. But he hadn't been pinning the rest of the evening on Royston behaving any differently.

If that was the sort of man he was, they wouldn't be standing where they were. Sullivan understood. He had to understand. He held the doorknob, and considered what they were about to do.

Surviving this first night didn't mean he would survive the last, if Royston was as reactive and unemotional as Buck claimed. All he could do was treat the man with respect and see if he netted different results than the ones who had made him this way. He was this way. It would be easy for Royston to terminate this arrangement once it no longer suited him, and it would be easy for Royston to slip a knife into Sullivan's chest if he got it into his head that he had betrayed him. Wouldn't matter how long this lasted, or how much Royston claimed to enjoy his company. If Sullivan expected anything else out of him, he figured, that was his own damned fault.

Sullivan locked the door behind him, removed his saber belt, and slung it over the back of the chair.

Across the room, Royston flung his suit jacket onto the coat rack and loosed his suspenders. The only neat space in the room was the bed, which he passed by with purpose. His eyes were sharp and his posture wound as he waited for Sullivan to remove his field jacket and hang it in the unorganized bureau. To pick up one discarded loafer, then the other, and set them beneath his jacket. He pulled off one boot, then the other, and rested them beside Royston's loafers.

Hoping that sent a clear message as to his intentions, Sullivan shut the bureau door.

"I don't suppose you can leave the sword on?" Royston asked.

Sullivan tested the lock on the hall door.

"I'd have to leave the rest of it on as well."

"Say, there's an idea."

"Save 'em for next time, would you? I want everything off you next."

Royston clawed at the bow tie he'd donned for the evening and tossed it towards the nearest flat surface. It fluttered to the floor. Sullivan left it where it lay and went to him. His lover reached out and caught Sullivan by the ass and reeled him, trilling his tongue, pleased by what he had in his hands.

That the man he'd chosen smelled good, smelled like soap and pomade and an oil he could not identify, did not surprise Sullivan. That he was clean, that he was warm and healthy and relaxed, should not have. Yet the blood rushed from Sullivan's head as their bodies settled together. Royston knew exactly where it had gone, and pressed closer in recognition.

"Wait, Arthur, I--"

"I have been waiting for two months, Sullivan, don't you 'Wait, Arthur' me! A man has needs, and mine are you, inside of me, right now."

"Are you... certain that's how you--"

Royston silenced him with his lips at his ears.

"Angel," he said, "I rise certain, and I retire certain. This morning I arose certain. I've made the necessary arrangements. We have all night to talk, if that is your preference. We can even go downstairs and mingle with the others later if you so desire but right now, quit talking and ravage me."

No one had ever spoken to him the way Arthur Royston spoke to him.

Sullivan dove into Royston's lips and anchored himself in his arms. Their hands worked in uncoordinated tandem to finish unwrapping each other. By the time they reached the closest layer Royston was annoyed to have to stop so Sullivan could remove his undervest. So Sullivan could admire him.

"Arthur," he said, "in case I've not made this known to you yet, I would like to now: I find you absolutely breathtaking."

Royston laughed and said, "Oh, you. Here. Allow me to return some."

Taking firm hold of Sullivan's shirt scruff, Royston closed his eyes before he kissed him, and damn them both if Sullivan didn't know, then, that he had been breathed alive after lying dead for years. A numb body, a frozen heart, poured into a uniform every morning, nothing to do but keep marching time with entropy. Tobacco and mint and whiskey, heady and antiseptic, reawakened the nerves beneath his skin, the heat in his blood. Damn them both if kissing Royston wasn't better than breathing.

His lover growled when Sullivan broke the kiss, and scraped his shirt over his head, and his own hips flexed in response, reminding them to remove the final layer between them before seeking further friction.

When Royston found the gold chain around his neck, and the locket against his breastbone, his jaw dropped.

"You really are wearing it…"

"Of course I am," Sullivan laughed. "You gave it to me."

Sullivan rested his fingers over the X-shaped scar he found beneath the man's left nipple. Found the unmistakable shape of a low-caliber exit wound not much further down. That wound alone would have killed him, were he not possessed of such fair luck. He would ask about it later. He would ask him everything, later. He wanted to know everything, and to tell him everything.

Trembling, Royston caressed the ghost of a bayonet scar on Sullivan's right shoulder. Kissed it with lips Sullivan had not thought could be so gentle.

Royston's body told him what to do. He was not thinking. He was starving. As much as he wanted to bury himself in this man, all Sullivan did was think, too much, about everything. He pinned his hips to the wall, separating them, and Royston's head tipped to the side in question.

"Have you got oil?" Sullivan asked. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Don't be silly, everyone hurts—"

"I'm not everyone."

"Oh, darling, I know you're not. That's why you're here. Don't fret so much." Royston smiled and pet his beard, tugged his sideburn. "You won't."

"You're right. I won't. If you don't, I'm going to dress and go out and procure some. Trust me, mister, spit is not suited to the task you've asked me to perform, regardless of how badly I... want you."

Royston considered the matter a second longer, his thoughts his own, his eyes distant. Then he snatched a glass vial from inside the nightstand drawer, rolled it between his palms to warm it.

"The task, you say?"

"I..." Heat flushed Sullivan's cheeks, and he broke eye contact. Watched the steady, slow pulse in Royston's neck. "I apologize, Arthur. I'm afraid I've not been... intimate… like this with another person in a very long time. I've forgotten how to conduct myself."

"Why, that's hardly anything worth apologizing for. I never know how to conduct myself. Your concern for my well-being is admirable." Royston tucked his finger beneath Sullivan's chin and reeled in his gaze. An aurora in his own. "You are admirable. Save your breath and give me your hand, lover."

The smell of the extract graced his nose and reminded him of cinnamon.

"What on earth is this?"

"Oil of clove. The woman who sells it to me says it comes from a place called Madagascar."

"More, please. This is barely enough to cover a hangnail."

Royston's chest swelled, and he poured oil onto Sullivan's middle fingers with increased generosity. Capped the vial and tossed it onto the bed for later. Sullivan used his dry hand to tuck the curls behind his lover's ears. Wanting watched him. Royston spread his legs and arched his back, waiting, and Sullivan did not keep him there. He reached behind his lover to anoint him.

A soft and involuntary gasp left Royston's throat and drove a shiver through Sullivan. He wanted to hear it again. Tried to reproduce it, gentle as Royston would let him be. Royston's body opened for him, and he moaned, a hot sharp line carved from where they joined to his throat, as he slid his strapped right calf up the back of Sullivan's leg. Invited him deeper, past a tight band of muscle whose acceptance made them both gasp.

Sullivan caught the traipsing knee and encouraged it up his side.

"Aren't you going to disarm me?" Royston asked Sullivan's jaw.

"Do you wish to be disarmed?"

"Not afraid I'll stab you?"

"Accidentally, or on purpose?"

Though neither of them had touched the muscle at the base of Royston's belly, it had wedged itself between them to nudge Sullivan's navel, adamantine and slick from his ministrations. Royston's arms around his shoulders were taut. His breaths pulsed.

Of course he didn't want to take his knives off. Someone had tried to kill him not three months earlier, and then Sullivan had disappeared. He had left him alone in a town where he was not safe, with only the promise that he might return at the end of a long military campaign to sustain him. Royston had had nothing to hold onto but letters from a man he barely knew, and could not respond other than through an intermediary. He had been vulnerable long before they undressed each other.

"I don't think you've any desire to harm me, Arthur. I think you've been harmed, and I imagine that would make it difficult for you to trust that I won't harm you. I should tell you I am fond of you, and I have no intention of harming you, though I am afraid I would be rather cross, were you to purposefully poke me with a knife whilst I'm... making love to you."

Teetering, Royston sighed, "Oh, you."

Gentle, Royston reached down to retrieve Sullivan's hand and bring the glistening knuckles to his lips to kiss. Whiskers scratched the back of Sullivan's hand, and Sullivan was the one who shivered as Royston reached between them to take him in hand. Royston grinned when Sullivan groaned, and pressed another, sweeter, kiss against his cheek. Rested his forehead against Sullivan's temple as he covered him in the fragrant oil, in his precise hand. As he guided Sullivan where they needed him to be.

And he breathed, and he breathed, and he accepted him.

Never in Sullivan's life had he exercised such reverence when entering a sacred place. Forehead to forehead, centimeter by centimeter, he disappeared into the man he had chosen, in awe of him and what his body could do, of how vulnerable and human he was, if only for a few seconds. If only for a few seconds, Sullivan thought his lover would give himself over to pleasure, stay in this moment with him.

The man Sullivan had chosen was reckless. Each tick of the second hand insulted him. He lost patience with Sullivan's patience and braced himself on Sullivan's shoulders. Locked his calf around his lower back and sheathed him, far too fast.

It hurt, or at least caused him discomfort, and he would not say so, beyond a soft grunt he tried to swallow, that Sullivan heard because he was listening for every tiny sound he made. Sullivan would not enjoy the constrictive warmth Royston had drawn him into because he felt him flinch, felt his eyes close, felt his breath seize.

This was the manner of men Royston had passed time with. They did not care if they hurt each other. They did not even notice, he would have been willing to bet. It would have been over with soon enough. Royston was waiting for it to be over, now that Sullivan was inside him. That's what he was expecting to happen, regardless of how sweet they were on each other, because that was what had always happened. Because neither of them were young, and they did not have the rest of their lives ahead of them to recover from heartbreak and betrayal. They were both of them knitted with scars by the time they found each other.

Sullivan refused to add another scar to the litany on his man's heart. He would have rather walked away from him than ever be the reason he was unhappy.

Until he breathed again, Sullivan touched Royston's face, watched the tension ease where his fingers smoothed, and they did not move. Until he opened his eyes again, Sullivan kissed his forehead, his brow, his temple, all the muscles that were frowning, watched him turn towards the attention, and they did not move.

Until his lover returned to his body, Sullivan waited. They did not move.

"Sullivan?" he asked, dazed, as if waking from reality into a dream.

"Cole," Sullivan answered, unthinking.

"What's that, angel?"

"My first name's Cole. I just realized I never told you."

"... Cole Sullivan." The way Royston looked at him at he caressed his face, Sullivan was fool enough to believe he was as spellbound as he sounded. "Oh, you did make me work for that, didn't you..."

"This is work for you?"

Royston laughed, breathless, uncomfortable.

"That's not what I meant and you damn well know it. Don't stop, Cole, please..."

Before continuing on, Sullivan assessed the situation. Read the shaking in Royston's leg, he was bracing his weight so he would not have to rely on his partner. Royston didn't trust anyone. He was trying to trust Sullivan. He'd had hopes for how tonight was going to go, himself. He'd thought things would be different because he thought Sullivan was different.

Sullivan's dumb heart melted.

"Arthur," he said, "I recognize I have given you no reason to trust me—"

Royston's calf tightened around his waist, trapping him.

"That is not true," he said.

"—and that you may have trusted other men before, and that they may have violated that trust—"

Royston was panting, and gripping Sullivan with that deep muscle, threatening to cut off Sullivan's ability to form coherent sentences, but he did not interrupt again.

"—but all I want to do is love you. That's all. I don't want anything from you. If you decide you would prefer to… to be inside of me, later… even if you change your mind before we've finished, I… I do not have much experience in that area, but I am… willing to learn, if you will teach me, and I expect you to tell me to stop, if—"

"You have stopped," Royston laughed.

"Slowing ain't stopping," he said, and took gentle hold behind his man's trembling knee. Guided the leg to join the other around his waist. Royston scrabbled for purchase, tightened his arms around his shoulders, fingers hooked into the edges of the blades. Uncertain. "I don't like how you're shaking. You're the one in charge right now, Arthur. Not me. All I'm doin' is holdin' you, and I ain't gonna drop you."

They were on a precipice together. Sullivan gave him a moment to acclimate, let him set his teeth into his skin and run his hands over his back, inspect the muscles, accept that Sullivan was telling the truth. That he could bear his insignificant weight. That he would not hurt him, not tonight, not unless he asked him to. That he did not intend to let go of him, now that he had him in his arms.

Royston laughed. Relief flowed through their bones.

"Oh," he said, and laughed again, and buried his face in Sullivan's hair. "Oh, I can't believe I forgot how strong you are…"

"Tell me what you need."

Sullivan breathed him in. Breathed their heartbeats into synchrony. Held his lover's sit-bones in his hands, marveling at how they fit, how perfect they felt in his palms. Like this was meant to happen.

"Tell me what you need, and I'll do it, Arthur. Anything."

Resuscitated, Royston tightened his legs around Sullivan's waist and settled into his arms. Able to trust that he was safe, for the first time in his life. The moan that came up out of him sounded like a herald as he relaxed where he needed to relax.

"Oh, Cole," Royston breathed in Sullivan's ear, a proclamation just for him, not for anyone else, "you belong in armor."

Something had changed. Royston had changed, before they ever met.. This had never happened in any other world, and it would never happen again. Everything had changed, already.

Royston rolled his hips, and moaned deep in his throat, and Sullivan moved to keep time with him. They were meant to happen. They were perfect.

"Oh, that's good. Oh, Cole, that's so good. Faster. You can go faster. Yesyesyes just like that. Harder. Hard—yes! Oh you're good you're so good Cole thank you..."

Sullivan claimed Royston's beautiful mouth, savored the laugh that bubbled up in his beautiful throat, the faint taste of cloves on those beautiful lips. As they worked themselves together their bodies learned each other's language and their lungs fed each other air and Royston kept his eyes open, watching. Saw the question and grinned and ran his tongue up the side of Sullivan's face. This wild man's roots were growing into his soil. He welcomed them. He welcomed him.

Then Sullivan saw the nothing folks claimed to see. None of them had ever been this close and the ones who had had not been worth a damn. He was in the man's arms, in him, and he saw the night sky when he looked in his eyes. He saw creation and destruction. He could not see how it could be possible to be this close and want to hurt him instead of protect him, how anyone could ever be this close and not love him.

I can love him, he decided. I can love a man who looks at me the way he does even if he can't love me back.

Something in Sullivan's eyes whispered to Royston. He watched the revelation dilate his pupils. Fingernails raked and heels dug and Royston spurred him to flex muscles he had not flexed in so long they burned. Gentle pressure kept Royston's back against the wall, their lower halves aligned, so Sullivan would not crack his man's skull against the wall every time he buried himself in him.

Inarticulate, Royston grabbed a handful of his lover's hair and set his teeth into his flesh and trembled with the effort of not. His breathing a plea. He was holding himself back.

"I'm gonna if you do," Sullivan told him.

No more he and him, then. They took each other with them when they came.

Whether he wanted it to or not, Royston's throat sang out in praise of what they had done. He curled around Sullivan and locked him in place and cried out as they absorbed each other. Buried the sound in Sullivan's shoulder, loud enough that everyone in the building would have heard if he had thrown his head back rather than letting it be just for them.

And in the after, as they were clung to each other damp and spent and pulling for air, he returned his feet to the floor. His turn to take his lover's weight. He was ready. Sullivan collapsed against him and let his breath go. He'd catch it later.

"Good Lord, Arthur…"

"You," Royston sighed. Cupped Sullivan's face in his hands, eyes gleaming. Humor glistening on both their sternums. "Oh, there has never been anyone like you and I dare say there never shall be again." He kissed him. "You're mine." He kissed him. "I'm keeping you." He kissed him. "I'm keeping you forever."

Royston could have stabbed him then and Sullivan would not have seen it coming.

A realization came to him, late. Royston's hands had stayed clutched to his shoulders the entire time. One was in his hair now. He had not reached for a knife as he fucked, or as he came. He had only reached for Sullivan.

"You're mine," Sullivan mumbled, and burrowed deeper into his arms.

"That's right. I'm out of circulation. I'm done for. I've been yours since day one."

This must be why they called it falling in love. Now that he had hit the ground, Sullivan wanted to stay where he was, broken and dumb and warm. He couldn't move. He didn't want to.

Royston sought Sullivan's gaze, and earned it.

"Welcome home, angel."

Sweat cooled their skin as the dry Kansas air took it, and though they shivered, they kept each other warm. Neither moved except to hold the other tighter. His heart beat against his man's chest, and it beat, and it beat, and it beat.

#doom metal love story #rewritten scenes #smut but make it 19th century and weird #this was the “let me say everything i wanted to say last time and couldn't” loop ig sullivan talks so much lol

9 notes · View notes

pandorasword · 1 year

Text

Chaeri as the 8th and youngest member of BTS.

CHAERI'S MASTERLIST

How everything in the 14.03.23 live reminds Jungkook of Chaeri

❒ members: Jungkook

❒ genre: fluff?? slice of life?? I don't really know

❒ summary: in which Jk's live on 14.03.23 is nothing more than a summary of his time with Chaeri at the beginning of the year

❒ notes: I deeply suggest listening to the version of 'Falling' in the post, it makes me so damn emotional. It's hard for me to explain how much I loved writing about this soft Jungkook, who does everything to take care of those he loves + all written while listening to his songs (covers and non). I really hope you appreciate it the same way I do

❒ warnings: Mentions of a broken ankle and healing injuries; purchase of products containing nicotine; vaping; moody Chaeri; All events take place at the time when Chaeri and Jungkook move back to the dorms together in early 2023. The occurrences described below, however, are not placed in chronological order

requests are open (even if it takes a while)

January/February, 2023

❥ Elfbar

჻ "You know what would make this so much more bearable?"

჻ Too little time had passed since the accident to stop hurting

჻ Chaeri had planned to finish/start the year doing one of the things she loved most: Going snowboarding

჻ Too bad she had ended up with a broken ankle, a subluxated wrist, and pain scattered throughout her body

჻ She could call herself lucky, however, because she could have broken her neck

჻ Upon discharge from the hospital, talking with her members, it had seemed like a good idea for her to spend the weeks that would follow at the dorms, so as to make it easier for everyone to drop in on her

჻ Jungkook, the only one who had no scheduled commitments, had offered to stay over to help her as much as he could

჻ And she had been nothing but grateful. She hated the thought of being surrounded only by her staff to take care of her wounds.

჻ Jungkook turned his attention away from the pan whose ingredients inside were sizzling. The smell of it was outstanding "What?"

჻ "Elfbar."

჻ It took longer than expected to convince him to join her in searching for an electronic cigarette to buy online

჻ Doctors had given her advice to avoid smoking, not that she was a regular smoker, but vaping from time to time when she was particularly nervous helped her not to freak out

჻ And for the whole time he spent cooking, the guy repeated the doctors' words to her.

჻ But in the end he gave in, which meant that after dinner they found themselves scrolling through the website of the aforementioned brand to decide what flavors to buy

჻ "Strawberry ice might seem basic but in my opinion it's one of the best."

჻ Jungkook's face did not seem to agree much

჻ "I'd rather order the watermelon one."

჻ " Still basic." ゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜ ჻ The smokes took exactly one day to arrive, hermetically sealed in an anonymous package with no markings or writing on them, as if they were illegal products

჻ The whole thing made her laugh, but her little moment of good cheer ended when she realized she couldn't open the package herself because of her injured wrist

჻ "It's okay, I'll open it."

჻ Jungkook took it from her hand and moved away from the couch she was sitting on, going to open it on the kitchen counter with the scissors

჻ He might have done this simply to show her that even he, with his bare hands, could not do it

჻ Although, obviously, he would have succeeded without the help of any tools

჻ It was typical of him to take care of people in this way

჻ Small, almost invisible gestures to make those around him comfortable

჻ Chaeri chased those thoughts about Jungkook out of her mind.

჻ She was overthinking, and she promised herself that she wouldn't do that.

჻ "They smell sweeter than I remembered," Jungkook returned to her with the two cigarettes ready to use.

჻ One colored pink and one colored red

჻ The smell of fruit hit her full force.

჻ As soon as Jungkook tried his watermelon vape, his face was anything but smug

჻ " Give mine a try"

჻ Chaeri pulled her lips away from the cigarette, handing it to the boy next to her. Definitely strawberry ice had been the right choice.

჻ Jungkook accepted without making too much fuss, exchanging cigarettes

჻ The girl took a puff of the watermelon one and her expression changed in the same way as his, " Way too sweet. It feels like melted ice cream under your nose."

჻ "Yeah, yours is definitely better"

჻ "I had no doubt"

The electronic cigarette seen in Jungkook's live is an Elfbar Strawberry ice

❥ Bartender Jk

჻ "I can't even remember the last time I went out."

჻ Okay, she acknowledged. Since her recovery phase started, she had become annoying even to herself. That wasn't her, and she was amazed at how Jungkook could always be patient with her

჻ "Your wrist is already better, for the ankle I'm sure that in a couple of weeks you will be able to return to your normal life."

჻ "Two more weeks!? I can't stand it."

჻ Jungkook laughed, rather, at the dramatic way the girl dropped her head against the pillow, as if he had just given her the worst news a person can receive

჻ "What do you miss the most?"

჻ "I don't know-anything. Like, going to a bar and having a drink, dancing to background music."

჻ Jungkook made a mental note about what was just told to him

゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜

჻ The next evening, while Chaeri was busy in the, said by her, very boring activity of reading a book in English to try to improve her foreign vocabulary, Jungkook had left the bedroom and had not returned there

჻ "Jungkook?"

჻ She laid the book down by her side as, with clumsy movements, she clung first to the bedside table and then to her crutches to get to her feet

჻ Reading could have waited

჻ "I'm up to something, wait a few minutes."

჻ The boy's voice came from a distance

჻ She, being the disobedient girl that she was, didn't listen to him and with small, shaky steps made her way to the kitchen

჻ She immediately noticed the difference in illumination from the room she came from

჻ The main lights were not on, rather Jungkook's galaxy projector was glowing and made the atmosphere of the dimly lit room relaxing

჻ Behind the kitchen cabinet, the guy in perfect bartender uniform: White shirt rolled up to the elbows, black pants, long hair tied back in a messy bun

჻ Extremely attractive

჻ He was deep in the act of rinsing a glass cup with flowing water

჻ "Welcome, lady"

჻ "What's all this?"

჻ "Your day out. Welcome to - Jk's - , pay 0 and take as many as you want."

゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜

჻ He had literally set up a bar in their kitchen, to make her smile

჻ And God, had he succeeded

჻ The cupboard behind him, purposely opened, neatly displayed his entire collection of booze, mostly whiskey

჻ An old-fashioned stereo rested in the corner, with soft music playing in the background

჻ The stools side by side in what had become the bar area, with shakers, straws, and glasses filled with colored liquids inside

჻ "I can't believe it"

჻ He had taken the crutches out of her hands and sat her down on one of those right barstools, before going back behind the counter

჻ "New opening, we offer drinks for this. It's hard to believe, I know. During this time of crisis-"

჻ "You're right into the character I see" Chaeri burst into laughter, a laughter that hadn't come out of her own accord in weeks now

჻ "You know when I do something, I do it properly" "So, what can I serve you tonight, young lady? We have a wide selection. If you want an advice, the blueberry juice is quite good."

჻ "Juice?! No, I'm an adult, I want alcohol."

჻ "No alcohol for adults who take painkillers."

჻ "Ugh, okay. Blueberry juice then"

჻ Jungkook put a lot of effort into making the preparation of the blueberry juice look like an actual cocktail, he even added a colorful little umbrella sticking out of the glass

჻ "So professional, aren't you?"

゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜ ჻ It went on for at least a couple of hours

჻ They chatted about this and that, drinking colorful juices

჻ "I think the bar is almost closing, young lady. Last wish for tonight?"

჻ "When I go to these kinds of places I usually like to dance to the songs they put on, but I think this cannot come true."

჻ "And who says no?"

჻ "Well, the brace on my leg? my broken foot?"

჻ "Nothing that can't be worked around."

჻ "What you have in mind?"

჻ Jungkook, who was leaning comfortably against the surface of the table with his elbows, circled around it to get to her side and offer her a hand

჻ "I- I don't think that's…proper"

჻ The boy's eyes narrowed "Wouldn't you do it with Yoongi hyung? With Namjoon hyung or everyone else of us?"

჻ "Well..I think so."

჻ "So why not with me?"

჻ "I guess you're right."

゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜ ჻ Jungkook had got her up.

჻ He held one palm open behind her shoulders, the other positioned at the end of her back

჻ He told her to rest her foot with the brace on his so that she would not have to put weight on it

჻ In the background 'I wanna be yours' by the Arctic monkeys filled the room.

჻ Chaeri gasped the moment Jungkook made her move for the first time.

჻ She was surprised to find that he, in that way, was able to keep her from putting any pressure at all on her injury

჻ Not knowing where to rest her hands, she placed them on his chest

჻ 'They were too close, they had to pull away' was what the girl repeated to herself in her mind

჻ But the moment he proved to her that she was actually dancing, that he was letting her dance after all that time she had been forced to stand still, every other thought vanished

჻ "I am dancing"

჻ "You are dancing"

჻ She flashed an excited smile. She never had stopped dancing for so long since she had first learned to do it when she was three years old.

჻ Under her fingers she could feel Jungkook's heart pumping in his chest, alive as never before

჻ He ventured to pull her a little tighter against his body, barely allowing her to touch her sound foot on the ground

჻ He even managed to make her dip slightly, and when he brought her back up, at the level of his face, he could not help but think how much he wished that what they had shared was still between them

჻ He loosened his grip on her shoulders to reach her hair, from which he slipped the scrunchie that held it up

჻ A move he used to do before kissing her

჻ Chaeri seemed to have the same thoughts as him, from the way she looked at him, in which her lips parted as reflex, without her having planned to do so

჻ Instead he simply slid her scrunchie down his wrist and let her go a second after the last notes of the song faded away

❥ Jk humming 'Until I found you'

჻ Many of her activities planned for the beginning of that year had been postponed because of the accident

჻ However, the company's managers decided to carry on at least the ones that didn't require too much effort for their artist

჻ Because of this, about fifteen people arrived in the dormitory one day, armed with all the equipment needed to record a cover

჻ The living room within half an hour no longer had anything to envy a real recording studio

჻ The staff took longer than usual to try to get her ready, do her makeup, and fix her hair, as she was totally uncomfortable with any touch from them

჻ Probably due to the bad mood of those days, of the extreme sensitivity of her body due to her injuries or for being emotional, but she gave the staff a lot of trouble

჻ She couldn't stand them pulling her hair to iron it straight, she couldn't stand them touching the wounds on her face, putting on earrings, nail polish, or anything else

჻ "Can't you just record the song? Is it necessary for you to film her as well?" Jungkook was leaning on the doorway of the huge bathroom on the 1st floor of their apartment

჻ Chaeri looked at him through the mirror in front of her, noticing that he was talking to the staff but his eyes were on her as well

჻ "This is not up to us, Jungkook" The lady in charge of makeup, who was doing her best to cover the bruises and scratches still on her face, replied

჻ "I will talk to the people in charge about it, then."

჻ Chaeri mimicked a thank you to him with her lips.

჻ And he smiled at her before disappearing from her sight ゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜

჻ With Jungkook's help, she sat on the couch, underneath her foot wrapped a smurf to keep her leg up and less sore as possible

჻ As he foretold, he had ensured that the cover was recorded without capturing her on video

჻ She, thanks to this, was already feeling better

჻ Sitting by her side, he got the time to help her warm up her voice before starting

჻ Not that he really needed it, though doing it together he felt might make Chaeri face the next few hours more easily

჻ When the time to record came, he stepped back far enough to allow the staff to place all the necessary equipment around Chaeri

჻ She put on her headphones, brought the microphone as close to her as possible, in her hand the paper with Stephen Sanchez's beautiful lyrics

჻ "I'm ready"

჻ Jungkook raised both thumbs to show her support

჻ And only then did a smile come to her face

჻ "..I asked to Love her once again You fell, I caught you I'll never let you go again like I did Oh, I used to say I would never fall in love again until I found her.."

჻ Chaeri did everything she could to avoid eye contact with Jungkook as soon as she began to sing

჻ Although she couldn't explain why

჻ Or perhaps, just rationally she couldn't explain why.

❥ Falling by Harry Styles

჻ It was late at night and she lost track of all the painkillers she had taken during the day

჻ Definitely too many to consider taking another one to try to rest

჻ She was unable to find a position in bed that would give her body relief

჻ She had even shifted all the blankets at the foot of the bed, believing that the weight of them might somehow be hurting her

჻ But nothing had changed

჻ What's more, for all the time she had spent awake, her head was also beginning to pound uncomfortably.

჻ She hated what had happened to her, it made her so deprived and in pain that she could not be in a good mood for anything at that time

჻ The wrist, since it was not broken, was not going to take long to heal. The bandage would soon be removed and with some physical therapy she would be up to moving it in no time

჻ Her ankle, however, was giving her hell and they had given her no hope of getting better for at least a month

჻ She tried to change position for the umpteenth time, which caused a cry of pain to escape her lips

჻ From the door popped Jungkook's head, who was passing out there at that very moment "Are you okay?"

჻ Chaeri tried to shrug it off, saying it was just a little pain, but Jk knew better. He could see the pain in her eyes.

჻ "Can I do anything to help?" Jungkook asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

჻ She shook her head, but then a thought occurred to her. "Actually, do you remember how you used to sing to me when we were together?"

჻ Jungkook's breath hitched and it took him a few seconds before he managed to force his mouth to move to formulate a reply. It had been so long since Chaeri mentioned anything about when they were a couple.

჻ "Of course, it used to make you fall asleep"

჻ "Would you mind singing to me now? I'm having trouble sleeping"

჻ The girl did not have enough energy to question whether or not her request was appropriate to their situation. She felt that it was what she needed

჻ "Anything"

჻ With graceful movements, he positioned himself on the side of the bed next to her. Not too close, but not as far away as he was a moment before either.

჻ If she wanted this, he would recreate exactly what happened years earlier every night

჻ "I'm in my bed And you're not here And there's no one to blame but the drink in my wandering hands Forget what I said It's not what I meant And I can't take it back, I can't unpack the baggage you left"

჻ Chaeri closed her eyes, letting his voice wash over her

჻ "What am I now? What am I now? What if I'm someone I don't want around? I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling What if I'm down? What if I'm out? What if I'm someone you won't talk about? I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling"

჻ She didn't open her eyes as she interrupted him, her voice already more relaxed, as if she were about to fall asleep at any moment

჻ "Are you afraid?"

჻ "Afraid of what?"

჻ "Of the future."

჻ "I don't get the point, Chaeri."

჻ "I know-I feel that you are not well. I know you. What I want to tell you is not to question who you are. I feel lost too since the hiatus started, but … they won't stop loving you, we won't stop loving you. You are a beautiful person, Jungkook. Not having plans does not mean that you are a failure." "Actually, I think you will do big things, with or without us. But only you will know when the time is right."

჻ "And you were able to figure all this out from…?"

჻ "By the way you sing this song."

჻ She knew him better than anyone else

჻ Jungkook again felt like the shy teenager who relied on her whenever he failed to share his emotions alone

჻ "Can you keep singing, please?"

჻ She fell asleep shortly afterwards

჻ Jungkook stayed there, watching her sleep. He wanted to make sure she was okay. He reached out and caressed her face, the urge to kiss her overwhelming. But he knew that they were just 'family' now, even if he could still sense that something between the two never disappeared

჻ He settled for watching over her, making sure she was safe and comfortable. He didn't want her to feel alone, especially not now when she needed him the most

჻ As the night wore on, Jungkook felt a sense of peace settle over him. He knew that he would always be there for Chaeri, no matter what

჻ And he also knew again why he fell in love with her

Thanks to those who read, let me know if you enjoyed it! I read somewhere that asks and comments help keep the author motivated lol

taglist: @alixnsuperstxr

#bts 8th member #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagines #bts female addition #bts imagines #bts x reader #kpop female member #kpop addition #bts au fic #SoundCloud

134 notes · View notes

blackjackkent · 2 months

Text

Exploring the Cloister of Somber Embrace!

There's two side room areas before we go in to the Chamber of Loss where Shadowheart's parents are, one north and one south. Surprisingly enough, taking the north path, we find someone still alive waiting for us!

Huh. Who are you, ma'am?

"Shadowheart... I wasn't sure if I'd ever lay eyes on you again. It's me, Nocturne. Do you remember?"

The tiefling woman's tone is strange. Cold, careful, and yet hopeful at the same time. Surely she can't have missed the number of dead bodies lying out in the main atrium, but she doesn't move to attack, just watches Shadowheart with an intense, complex expression.

"Remind me..." Shadowheart says warily.

A flicker of disappointment crosses Nocturne's eyes. "We... we trained together," she says. "We used to be close. I'm... glad to see you're all right..."

Shadowheart's jaw works; she strains for the memories that are lost to her, for some remnant of imagery associated with this woman's face. Then she shakes her head. "I don't remember you."

"Ah," says the tiefling. "A pity. Perhaps we can talk some more later." Her eyes flick to Hector guardedly, then past them towards that room full of death. "That is, if you're not about to turn on me. It seems you no longer walk in the Dark Lady's shadow."

Hector takes a slight step back, letting Shadowheart into the lead. He doesn't trust this woman or what her intentions might be - but perhaps more than ever, this is not a conversation that is his to have.

Say nothing.

"Shar condemned me," Shadowheart says flatly. Hector knows she must be reliving the agony that came along with that condemnation, as she says the words. "By her decree, you and I are enemies."

Nocturne looks Shadowheart up and down thoughtfully for a moment. Then she shakes her head. "Only if you wish us to be," she says, equally flat, matter-of-fact. "You may not remember, but we... shared a lot together, once. Good times, hard times..."

Her voice trembles minutely. Hector raises an eyebrow. There's a history beneath these words, a whole lifetime of shared suffering - and more than that, the realization that it is no longer shared at all, and she alone holds those memories now. What were these two to each other? Friends? Lovers? Certainly the pain in her voice does not seem feigned.

"I will not turn on you," she says firmly. "Even if it angers Lady Shar."

Shadowheart's eyes widen. For a moment she doesn't seem to know quite what to say. "That's... good enough for me," she says haltingly. "I'm not sure what I expected coming back to this place. Certainly not a friend." She takes a step forward, a new and entirely unexpected emotion breaking through the haze of grief and exhaustion - curiosity. "There must be all sorts you can tell me," she says eagerly. "Things I can't even remember..."

Nocturne flinches back a little at her approach. "There are," she agrees. "But with the Mother Superior gone, I don't know if I can stay here to reminisce. Perhaps there's another enclave out there for me."

"You don't need Shar," Shadowheart objects fiercely.

Nocturne smiles sadly. "You don't, perhaps. Not everyone is as brave." Her fingers fidget against the back of her opposite hand, and Hector sees she bears the same wound there that tormented Shadowheart for so long. "I'll leave come tomorrow," she says. "Come see me before then. I was working as quartermaster. I can sell you some things to aid you. And we can catch up..."

#bjk plays baldur's gate 3 #hector carlisle #well that was unexpected

9 notes · View notes

promptling · 1 month

Text

STAR TREK ( 2009 ) change pronouns as needed.

we have visual.

are you seeing this?

there is no help for us out here.

get off this ship.

do you know the location of ________?

where are you from?

do exactly as i say.

just keep breathing, you'll be fine.

i can't do this without you.

hey, are you out of your mind?

is there a problem, officer?

i presume you've prepared new insults for today.

they called you a traitor.

logic offers a serenity humans seldom experience.

come here, let me see you.

there's no need to be anxious.

fine has various applications, fine is unacceptable.

you have surpassed the expectations of your instructors.

it was logical to cultivate multiple options.

it's truly remarkable that you have achieved so much despite your disadvantage.

that's a lot of drinks for one woman.

don't you at least want to know my name before you completely reject one?

this townie isn't bothering you, right?

relax, cupcake.

it was a joke.

you all right?

you can whistle really loud.

i don't need a doctor, damn it, i am a doctor!

i may throw up on you.

one tiny crack in the hull and our blood will boil in 13 seconds.

i got nowhere else to go.

you've been requested on the bridge.

why are you so happy?

i think i love you.

that is so weird.

i'm doing you a favor.

i couldn't just leave you there looking all pathetic.

a little suffering's good for the soul.

i wish i didn't know you.

don't be such an infant.

may i have your attention, please?

how do you feel?

we're flying into a trap!

i think you've had enough attention for today.

i do not believe that you and i are acquainted.

your survival is unlikely.

the complexities of human pranks escape me.

i guess you have to come and get me.

how long do they have?

are you nuts?

we must evacuate.

what do you need?

tell me.

i need everyone to continue performing admirably.

you must have a lot of questions for me.

we have nothing left to discuss.

are you actually suggesting they're from the future?

the logical thing is to be unpredictable.

don't do that.

you gotta be kidding me.

how did you find me?

how do you know my name?

you hate me.

you are not the captain?

it will be easier.

so you do feel.

you could at least act like it was a hard decision.

you realize how unacceptable this is?

you don't eat anything!

how do you think i wound up here?

i do feel guilty about that.

do they still have sandwiches there?

you're coming with us, right?

under no circumstances can he be made aware of my existence.

i am emotionally compromised.

let's get this over with.

a trick i learned from an old friend.

i'm not telling.

i'd rather not take sides.

i will not allow you to lecture me about the merits of emotion.

you feel nothing!

you never loved her.

i am no longer fit for duty.

i like this ship!

thanks for the support.

i sure hope you know what you're doing.

either we're going down, or they are.

what is necessary is never unwise.

i am as conflicted as i once was as a child.

i would cite regulation, but i know you will simply ignore it.

i'll be monitoring your frequency.

i have no comment on the matter.

i'lll cover you.

do you know where it is?

wow, that's weird.

it appears that you have been keeping important information from me.

i knew i should have killed you when i had the chance.

your species is even weaker than i expected.

you can't even speak.

i got your gun.

what are you doing here?

just following orders.

i would rather die in agony than accept assistance from you.

we cannot afford to ignore each other.

do yourself a favor.

put aside logic, do what feels right.

it is my honor to award you with this commendation.

your father would be proud.

i can provide character references.

#star trek sentence meme #star trek rp prompts #star trek rp meme #rp sentence starters #rp sentence memes #rp sentence prompts #sentence prompts #sentence memes #sentence starters

8 notes · View notes

infinite-orangepeel · 1 year

Note

Can’t stop thinking about Steve -do I really want to be in another meaningless relationship only based on sex?- Harrington coming to the conclusion that his scars can be pretty off putting and spiraling because now girls won’t even want him for his body. Eddie thinks they only add to his beauty.

me too me too me too ! i've written so much fic content about steve and eddie and their scars bc these are the types of thoughts that keep me up at night. ughhh. i adore this so much <333 thx for submitting :)

bc i've written on this topic (as its one of my faves), i thought i'd include an excerpt from one of my fics as my answer !! hope you enjoy !

Steve’s gritting his teeth, because the rubbing alcohol on his fresh cuts somehow stings worse than the demobat bites did.

“Ow, ow, ow,” he groans, as Eddie dabs along his wounds with a soaked cotton ball. Strategically rubbing up and down Steve’s calf with his other hand to calm him.

“Just a little more,” Eddie looks up at him from his crouched position, “Then, it’s only the bandages and you’ll be good as new.”

True to his word, the torture doesn’t last much longer—a few minutes max, though Steve’s comprehension of time is still fucked up from this morning. It feels like some time after noon, but it’s hard to be certain without the assistance of a clock.

Frankly, it’s not like he has hard-set plans for today or any other day this week. He’s not missing out on anything substantial, especially not since his boss conveniently stopped putting him on the schedule after he slept through one too many shifts a few weeks ago.

Besides, he’d much rather be here than anywhere else. With Eddie’s callused hands centering him and curating a new normal.

Eddie props himself up on his knees to place the few small bandages on Steve’s inner thighs. He’s extremely methodical about the process which Steve wouldn’t have expected from someone as spontaneous and off-the-cuff as him.

“Doing okay up there?” Eddie implores, meeting his eyes with a sweet smile.

His dimples make an impromptu appearance and Steve thinks he might just melt into a puddle at the view.

God he’s so fucking beautiful. Holy–

“Peachy,” Steve responds and nods to affirm the statement like his thoughts are puritanical and going to lead him straight to heaven.

However, his mind says otherwise; riddled with sin and lust–

Would be doing much better with your dick in me. Filling up my throat until I can’t breathe. I think that would be very healing, don’t you?

Admittedly, his internal dialogue has gotten increasingly horny since he exited the bath. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why. Eddie’s kneeling before him, tending to his injuries, speaking in a raspy tone, and oh yeah –there’s the fact that Steve’s butt ass naked.

He hadn’t originally envisioned it going like this, but here they were. There wasn’t some juicy blueprint with a mock up of his dick and every other inch of him on full display for his resident nurse. It’s not like he had some hidden agenda.

When Eddie had helped him out of the bathtub—so he didn’t slip or whatever—he hadn’t instructed Steve to get dressed, so Steve had simply toweled off and tossed the terrycloth thing to the side once he was dry. Eddie smirked at him with a sort of curiosity, but didn’t make any remarks about the nature of his obvious nudity. Instead, he chose to remain fully clothed and got to work playing doctor.

It’s hard to put into words and even harder for him to wrap his head around, but the events of last night–specifically the ones that took place in his living room–have seemed to cast Steve under an ineffable spell of Eddie’s own creation.

It appears to be defined by the severe, unwavering need to obey Eddie’s every command under the aim of earning his praise and utmost pride. If the man asked him to jump, Steve would ask how high and proceed to launch himself further than humanly possible.

Overnight, Eddie has gone from being his estranged acquaintance–whom he hadn’t really thought he’d ever see again–to someone whose opinion matters more than his own.

All of this is to say that despite wanting it, Steve really doesn’t have any reason to believe Eddie is going to touch him anywhere other than where it’s logically necessary, until he starts talking again.

Returning to a cyclical point that he just can’t seem to let go of, clinging to it like the end of a fraying rope.

“Do you believe me yet?” Eddie smooths his hand over yet another bandaid, “Do you believe that I’m not like your parents? I’m never going to leave you just because you’re hurting. Pain’s only human Steve. Why would I ever blame you for experiencing it?”

The questions are rhetorical. He makes this clear by silencing the response slowly forming in Steve’s mind with his touch. Trailing his ringed hands up to Steve’s bare hips and gently squeezing the soft flesh there. Eddie kneads it beneath his fingers, massaging generously. Ceaseless in his eye contact, he pointedly ignores that which Steve feels rather embarrassed by–his fast growing erection.

Steve’s dick flags to immediate attention before he can even think to try and hide it. It’s honestly laughable how quickly his body reacts to the feeling of someone else’s hands on him–something that hasn’t happened in a longer amount of time than he’d like to verbally admit. Thankfully, Eddie’s not asking and doesn’t seem at all offended by how reactive his body is. Rather enticed—pupils swelling in enchanted awe and blissful wonder.

“Stevie, I want to answer that silly little question of yours, alright? Will you let me do that, angel? Will you let me get you out of your head for a minute? I’ll go slow and you can stop me at any point. Taps always work great if you don’t feel like talking. You know that,” Eddie demonstrates this by flattening a palm and maneuvering it over the low part of Steve’s abdomen to tap rhythmically.

It matches the asymmetrical beat of Steve’s heart–whirring and skipping all over the place.

Eddie’s licking his lips as he lies in wait, as if preparing to sink sharp teeth into defenseless prey. The insinuation of his overt power oddly juxtaposes against his physical position. On his knees in what would usually be deemed submission, but gazing up at Steve with such intense fire and hunger that there’s no question about who’s really in control here.

His comprehension of Eddie’s sheer ability to dominate and possess him gives Steve a rush of shivering, but pleasant cold to the head. Goosebumps rise to coat his skin. It’s the same effect he experiences when he slurps down a milkshake too fast.

“Yes please, don’t wanna think anymore. Want you to teach me how to be good, Eds,” Steve sucks on his bottom lip and wriggles his hips in Eddie’s grip. Almost thrusting forwards, but realizing his dick would bump straight into Eddie’s nose and that feels kind of rude, so he holds himself back.

It’s an indescribable craving–what he knows Eddie can give him. He feels like a junkie in need of a tantalizing fix. The drug’s perfectly in view, but just a hair too far away for him to grasp it. Even if it was close enough, he wouldn’t dare make a move until Eddie gave him the go ahead. Eddie knows what’s good for him. Eddie wouldn’t lead him astray.

“Good, baby,” Eddie’s pet name sends Steve’s eyes rolling into the back of his head, “That’s right. I’d never hurt you, not in any way you didn’t want me to.”

His interest immediately peaks at the sound of that, though he’s not sure exactly what it means. The proposition of Eddie administering controlled pain to his body is strangely inviting. Questions lazily bob to the surface of his brain, but he’s not in the right mindset–at present–to run a proper interrogation. It’ll have to wait.

“Alright, you’re going to start by telling me why your parents shouldn’t want to come see you? Why shouldn’t they fly home to see their perfect son, hm?” Eddie presses a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of his knee and returns both hands to his hips to ground him.

Perfect? He thinks I’m perfect?

Steve’s cock constantly throbs against his stomach and it won’t take much more for him to start leaking slick down his fuzzy happy trail.

“ ‘m not worth their time, ‘m not the type of son they wanted to have–don’t have a big fancy job or anything to offer them–nothing they’d like anyway,” Steve whimpers from a mixture of painful emotion and wanton desire, “My dad always tells me I’ve failed them. Always tells me they wouldn’t have had a kid if they knew he’d turn out like me.”

“That’s fucking bullshit,” Eddie says with strict finality, like he’ll accept no further argument on the topic, “Fuck that, Stevie. That’s not true.”

Eddie kisses up to his waist–avoiding his weepy cock for the moment–and presses his hot mouth to the residual scars that an array of Upside Down monsters have left him with. His tongue flicks out to trace the edges of his gnarled skin, lapping at it like it’s sugar coated in ambrosia.

Steve moans and this time, he can’t prevent his pelvis from bucking forward; rolling through a wave of blanketed pleasure. It softens and pacifies the abrasive noise ringing between his ears.

“Fucking look at you, baby. How could they ever think you’re a failure? That’s a fucking bold faced lie, so obviously false,” Eddie cocks an eyebrow at him, before continuing to make headway on his emboldened path through the labyrinth of Steve’s pain, “These pretty marks on your body show me how strong you are–how brave you’ve been for so many years with no one to take care of you, but yourself. That takes so much courage, Stevie. You’re a fighter, aren’t you? I’ve seen it–the way you defend everyone and jump into battle for them. You did it for me, didn’t you? Saved my fucking life with that bravery of yours. Wouldn’t have survived without you. Doesn’t sound like you’re much of a failure to me.”

As much as Eddie makes it sound obvious, this perspective is fresh and nearly unbelievable for Steve.

Sure, he’d fought and sure, he’d saved Eddie, but he wasn’t special because of it. Anyone would have jumped in to help a friend in those situations. Robin would have. Nancy would have. Dustin too. It didn’t mean he was worth any more than the rest of them. It didn’t mean he was better because of it.

“I’m not special,” his voice breaks wide open like the daunting fracture of a fault line, “Saved you because you’re my friend. Any of them would have done it. I just happened to be the one to get there in time.”

“You’re wrong, Stevie and I don’t like hearing you talk about yourself like that. I won’t allow it,” he reprimands.

To deliver what might be considered punishment by a more stable individual, Eddie nips at his scars–little scrapes of teeth that make him openly moan at a volume that would be far too loud if they weren’t the only two home. It's heavenly as is, but Steve gluttonously yearns for more. Wishing Eddie would make good on his promise and fully bite down. Perhaps, draw a bit of blood. Take away the hurt and suck it from underneath his damaged skin.

However, he doesn’t share these thoughts, because he doesn’t want to scare Eddie with how much he’s willing to submit. With how much he’s dying to hand himself over and give Eddie complete control. Steve knows that’s not normal. He knows it’s likely the result of whatever illness is rotting his brain and tarnishing his heart. It’s too much to ask of someone who still hardly knows them–even after playing the game of twenty questions.

“Eddie. Fuck that feels good,” he settles for instead, “Need you, need more.”

More doesn’t necessarily have to mean bite and bruise me until I can’t feel anything, but the imprint of your hands and teeth on my skin. It could mean anything at all. There’s nothing wrong with more.

Sucking purple and red stains onto his waist with devoted lips, Eddie finally ghosts a hand over Steve’s throbbing cock and chuckles lowly at the way it twitches in desperation for him.

“Needy, aren’t we? That’s okay, I happen to like needy boys. You’re in luck,” Eddie drips an intoxicating condescension from his tongue and Steve focuses for way too long on the enviable suggestion that he’s done this before, “I’m happy to give you more, baby. In fact, I’d love to. But, I’m afraid rules are rules and I can’t do that until you finish answering my question.”

Steve bitchily stomps one of his bare feet against the tile and Eddie tsks at him, shaking his head back and forth. He nips again at Steve’s skin–this time biting a bit more meanly at his upper thigh. The faint imprint of his teeth is erased hastily by a sloppy kiss. A figure eight is traced by his tongue, connecting a series of pertinent moles that dot the tender flesh. Precum spurts onto his belly at the delectable feeling of Eddie’s godless mouth. Depravity leaks out of Steve in a relentless, milky white trickle and his counterpart just watches the show. Making no move to stop it or bring about release.

“B-but I was good. I did answer your question, Eds. I already told you the truth about why they wouldn’t want to come see me. I promise I wasn’t lying, wouldn’t do that to you. Know you don’t like lying,” Steve whines, demoralized by Eddie’s refusal to further things along and let him cum.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie licks up a drop of pre that has rolled down Steve’s left leg, moaning at the taste and for the first time–Steve realizes that he’s hard in his jeans, a thick protrusion forming to the side of the taut zipper, “You gave me an answer, but you didn’t give me the right answer. I can taste how badly you want to cum, baby. So sweet and deprived. No one’s touched you like this in a while, have they?’

“N-no,” Steve shakes his head frantically, surprising himself with the confession and lack of embarrassment surrounding it, “No they haven’t. Haven’t been touched like this in over a year. Only by my own hands.”

Eddie perks up at his disclosure of the truth. He moans deep in his throat and palms his dick through the black denim. Steve desperately wishes it was his hand, so curious about what it would be like to be the one to make him come undone.

“You poor thing,” Eddie patronizes, rubbing himself again with a rougher hand and barely disguising the way he’s shakily breathing through it, “A body as perfect as yours should never be ignored. Not even for a second. There should be a line outside your door ready to worship you, baby. Pretty boys like you deserve to be touched and admired all the time, don’t you think?”

“M-maybe, I don’t know,” Steve replies nervously. He’s not used to this brand of undivided attention, it’s a bit overstimulating and he keeps getting tongue tied under the tidal wave of brazen compliments.

“You sure you don’t know or do you just need some encouragement? I don’t think you’re quite getting it yet, angel. Let me make this very clear, you’re not cumming until you answer me properly. I’m sorry to do it this way baby, but it’s my job to make you understand how perfect you are and I won’t stop until you believe it,” Eddie purrs and thrusts into his own hand, clothed cock grazing Steve’s shin and eliciting a high whine.

Steve’s certain at this point that his body was made to respond to Eddie’s every beck and call. He’s been with plenty of girls, but there’s something about being with a boy–about being with this particular boy–that completely consumes him. A bomb could go off, the house could set fire, a lion could roar from right outside the door and Steve would remain entirely entranced by Eddie Munson. Running only when instructed to do so.

It’s terrifying.

It’s repulsive.

It’s insane.

He’s never wanted anything more.

Apparently to Eddie, ‘encouragement’ means standing up so he’s eye to eye with Steve and licking a stripe up the side of his exposed neck. Persuasion is administered in pressing their bodies as closely together as possible–mirroring each other–and rutting his cock against Steve’s through an incredibly frustrating layer of clothing.

The rugged friction hurts, causing Steve to wince and bite his inner cheek. There’s no soft silk or frilly lace like the stuff he’s used to sliding his fingers beneath when he hooks up with girls. There’s no delicate bows to untie or complicated clasps to undo. Floral patterns and pastel colors are replaced by ripped jeans, beat-up leather, and stinging metal.

Eddie’s biting his earlobe unapologetically. He’s gripping Steve with reckless abandon, traversing every inch of skin–pinching wherever he pleases and teasing without an ounce of regret. He’s playful–endlessly so. He starts a game, changes the rules half-way through, and relishes Steve’s panting breaths.

They kiss with tongue and teeth and stubble grating sensitive skin. Eddie knots his hands in Steve’s hair and pulls. When Steve reaches up to return the favor, to get his hands on him, Eddie takes both wrists in one firm fist and breaks their sloppy kiss to remind Steve of their agreement:

“Not happening,” Eddie yanks hard on his hair, “You keep your hands to yourself. I didn’t tell you to touch me, did I?”

For someone who relentlessly admonishes authority figures, Eddie is quite good at taking on the role himself. As if he’s internalized each run-in with the police and visit to the principal’s office; taking careful notes on how to demand obedience. Referencing them all now in his whipping tone.

“No. No you didn’t tell me to. I’m sorry,” Steve pouts.

“No need to apologize, sweetheart. Nothing to be sorry about. Just need you to remember that right now is about you–making you feel good. Do you want me to keep going or do you want us to stop here? You won’t upset me if you feel like it's too much,” Eddie leans his forehead against Steve’s as he whispers these words to him; pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

“Wanna keep going, don’t want you to stop,” Steve pleads. He likes the added pressure of Eddie’s hand around his wrists, like being restrained from giving into stupid decisions.

“Then you know what I want to hear, don’t you angel? All you have to do is repeat after me, we’ll make it real nice and easy today. Can you do that?” Eddie kisses along his jaw and uses his free hand to trace shapes on Steve’s chest–tightly pinching his hardened nipples and tugging a bit meanly.

“Yes,” Steve assures him, “I can.”

“Good. Repeat after me,” Eddie says like he’s teaching Steve a grammar lesson on a blackboard, “I’m smart.”

“I’m–um–I’m,” Steve’s hands tremble from where Eddie has them bound.

He dips his head to suck another bruise onto Steve’s collarbone–it will turn the color of a nightshade vegetable–burgundy as it fades, “Try again. Don’t be shy. I know you can do this. It’s just you and me. Nothing bad is gonna happen.”

The pain brings Steve strength. It shouldn’t, but it does. It frees him from the fear of vulnerability and lets the words tumble out of his mouth.

“I’m smart,” he says without pause.

“Just like that, baby. That’s right. You are smart. You’re so smart and so good for me,” Eddie praises, releasing Steve’s wrists and dropping back down to his knees on the floor, “We’re gonna keep going. Let’s try another one. I’m kind.”

“I’m kind,” Steve mimics without hesitation. This one is easier, comes out smoothly, because he agrees with it. He’s been told he’s kind by enough friends and acquaintances to believe it–evading the dooming cloud of his ‘King Steve’ era.

“Music to my ears,” Eddie says, taking Steve’s shaft in his hand and pumping him with a steady pace, “You are kind, aren’t you? Such a kind boy–always putting everyone else first and helping out whenever someone needs a hand.”

Steve snorts at the irony of Eddie quite literally being the one to ‘give him a hand’ as they speak. The laugh is short-lived and substituted by a groan of pleasure as Eddie speeds up.

“Almost there. I’m so proud of you. Just need to hear a couple more and then we’ll make you cum. Gonna milk every last drop out of you, sound good?” Eddie coos.

“Y-yeah, shit. Yeah, Eds. I wanna cum, wanna be good and cum for you,” Steve keens and reaches a hand up to tug at his own hair.

Noticing this, Eddie says, “Oh, baby, if you need more stimulation–I’ll let you have a little. Touch your nipples for me, while we talk. Gonna make you feel so good. Tug on ‘em and tease yourself, I wanna watch you.”

Obediently, Steve pinches his pert nipples between two fingers. He rolls the bud and sighs as they stiffen beneath his touch. He hasn’t spent a lot of time getting to know this part of his body in the past or using it to his advantage to get himself off. He always thought it was something that girls liked and that it wasn’t worth trying on himself as a guy.

Boy, was I wrong.

“God, you look fucking beautiful like that, Stevie. You have no idea–no idea the things I want to do to you,” Eddie observes him with rapt attention, slowing the movement of his fist on Steve’s length, “One last sentence for me and then I’m gonna suck you off. I’m loved–say it for me, baby.”

It goes against every fiber of his being–to believe himself worth loving. Vomiting up his breakfast, sobbing into the carpet, pushing away every last person who cared about him–it’s all because Steve isn’t loveable. He’s not worth the time and effort. He’s a burden–this is his undeniable truth–and no one should have to endure the weight of his agony on their shoulders. It’s just not worth it.

“I’m loved,” Eddie coaxes and tears have begun rolling their way down Steve’s ruddy cheeks without his permission, “I’m loved. I’m loved. I’m loved.”

It’s a simple sentence–short in length and uncomplicated in rhythm–but Steve feels like there’s a padlock on his heart and until he finds the right key to open it, those words aren’t going to come out. Forbidden.

“I–I’m–I can’t,” Steve sobs out, “Eddie, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, but I–I can’t say that. I’m not–I’m not ready–”

A pair of warm arms are thrown around his shoulders and it takes a second for him to realize they aren’t his own–they’re Eddies’.

Eddie who is kissing his face and petting his hair.

Eddie who is stroking the scars on his waist and rubbing out a knot in his shoulder.

Eddie who traces his collarbones with his tongue and draws shapes across his chest.

Eddie who whispers devotional words in his red-tipped ears:

“I’m here, I’m here.”

“It’s okay, you’re safe.”

“I’m sorry, I know it hurts. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m going to make it better. Whatever you need, whenever you’re ready.”

Steve lifts his head from where it has fallen onto Eddie’s shoulder–-collapsed like the fall of a great empire; unable to hold it together for a moment more.

“Touch me, Eds,” Steve instructs, “Take it away and touch me. Make all the bad go away. Please.”

“Okay. Okay, I can do that. Are you sure that’s what you want right now? You don’t want to go back to bed and cuddle or watch a movie downstairs,” Eddie offers, refusing to risk overstepping the line and pushing Steve past his limits.

“Need it, Eds. Need you. ‘s the only thing that makes it better,” Steve cries, trembling all over.

“I’ll give it to you, baby. Of course. I’ll do whatever I can,” Eddie promises, cupping Steve’s face in his hands and licking up the salty tears that puddle between them. No one’s ever done that to him before,“You’re so pretty, even when you cry. You know that?”

Steve’s tears dampen Eddie’s cheeks and Eddie’s kisses leave saliva on the corners of Steve’s mouth. It’s impossible to tell what belongs to who anymore–which portions of the mess should be labeled with which name.

All they know is that they’re here together–in the mess, in the dirt, treading water in the thick of it. Clinging to aching bones and weary eyes and finding rare shreds of peace, shreds of home in each other.

On his knees, Eddie kitten licks at the sensitive head of Steve’s cock. He’s still hard in his jeans, but pays no attention to the blaring call of his own pleasure. He doesn’t care–he’s here to heal Steve. He’s here to make it better–to lick up the pain and the gore and the hurt and gift him with a blank canvas in the end.

Something they can create together.

Something raw and real and unrepentant.

Something whole.

Steve tosses his head back and returns to working at his nipples–touching and moaning and aching for more. Eddie gives and gives below him–never taking his lidded eyes off of Steve.

“Ah, fuck. Eddie, Eddie,” Steve whimpers the five letters as the boy on his bathroom floor sucks him deeper into his willing mouth, “Eddie, please. Need more. Need more. Don’t stop.”

He’s hardly making sense, but like all else, Eddie understands him without much explanation. Filling in the gaps and taking it in stride. Meeting him halfway. He’s unaffected by the fragmentation of Steve’s speech; only proving his dedication by taking him to the hilt and hollowing out his pinkened cheeks. Writing the stanzas of every famous love poem with the skilled tip of his tongue.

Ten seconds pass without a single gag and Eddie reclaims his ability to demolish Steve with words alone, as he pulls off of him. Keeping his hand in place to spread slick and spit over the head. Licking at a bead of pre and using a brutal thumb to prod at the slit.

“Taste so sweet, baby. My perfect boy, of course you do. Gonna make you cum down my throat. Gonna drink up every last drop,” Eddie jerks him at a punishing pace, “You ever had a boy suck you off before, Stevie?”

He shakes his head and twitches from head to toe, as Eddie sucks his balls into his warm mouth. It’s slippery and gentle and Eddie expertly laves his tongue over the smooth skin.

“I’m your first? Wow. Guess that kinda makes you a virgin then, Harrington. Never would have dreamed I’d be the first guy to let you cum down his throat. You’re gonna be the death of me, I swear,” Eddie moans and sucks Steve back into his mouth.

He bobs his head faster and faster, twisting and licking and drooling out of the corners of his plush lips. Steve moans uncontrollably above him, not caring about how loud he gets—almost entirely unaware of the noise, because he’s lost at sea in the electrifying feel of Eddie’s perfect mouth.

“Gonna cum soon,” Steve warns, because it’s the polite thing to do, “Gonna cum, Eds. Feels too good, can’t last any longer.”

The warning doesn’t deter him—Eddie fucks his wide open mouth onto Steve, pinning his hips harshly against the counter so he can’t move an inch. Steve grips onto Eddie’s shoulders—though he’s technically not supposed to—and holds on for dear life as his orgasm nears. Warmth spreads through his belly.

Within moments he’s shooting off into the back of Eddie’s throat and– of course –the bastard is fucking smiling through it. Well, as much as he can with a very full mouth. Dimples surface and the edges of white teeth shine through the cracks. His eyes roll back and a moan vibrates around Steve’s cock, as Eddie suckles on the tip—swallowing all of his cum.

Every. Last. Drop.

Just like he promised.

#yay submissions and requests are so much fun thanks for sending this one in #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie brainrot #eddie x steve #the babygirlification of steve harrington #babygirl steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie fic excerpt #steddie rambling #steddie blurb #steddie au #steddie ao3 #steddie ficlet #steddie drabble #steddie fic #fruity four #steddie headcanon

119 notes · View notes