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hardcore-bradshaw · 2 days ago

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Ok I'm reading Stone Cold smut past midnight and well. I love my life.

Sleep Aid (18+)

synopsis: you’re drained and ready to go to bed but your mind is still racing with adrenaline after a match. Steve Austin notices and, when you whine about not being able to fall asleep, he eagerly offers to help.

word count: 3653

tags: plot, what plot? mentions of dubcon, mentions of somno, oral f receiving, female presenting reader, pillow princess, not proofread lol

“That body ain’t already tired?” “oh, i’ll tire you out. put that little ass to sleep…”

You turn your head to the bathroom door as Steve exits in nothing but a towel. You’re still awake, channel surfing for something to fall asleep to after a brutal match. He’s shocked to see you up. Steve looks at you and raises an eyebrow, briefly placing a hand on his hip.

“Why are you still awake,” he chuckles, shaking his head and walking towards the dresser in your shared bedroom.

You fully look up from the television and see him, your eyes raking down his wide and tall body. You shrug with an eye roll and shake your head, puzzled by the idea that you were still wide awake yourself. “I don’t know, baby… I’m tired as hell,” you whisper as Steve fishes through the top drawer of the dresser, pulling out a pair of black boxers. Fisting them in his hands, he walks up to the bed, still in nothing but a towel.

“Then why don’t you get some rest, honey?” You lean up on the bed and grip the back of Steve’s head once he’s close enough, giving him a quick kiss on the lips.

“I can’t sleep…” you complain before you yawn as you lay back down on the bed, searching for the remote once more. Steve walks away from the bed with a simple shake of the head as he drops his towel, changing into the boxers that were in his hands. You can see a smirk beginning to creep across his lips.

“That body ain’t tired from that helluva match?” You snicker as you watch Steve from the bed, watching as the muscles in his back, thighs, and ass flex as he moves, bending down to get his legs through the holes. You sigh audibly to yourself as you watch him, smiling and propping your head up on the palm of your hand to look at him. Smirking to yourself, you throw your arms over your eyes once he turns back around. He had already caught you staring in the mirror

“My mind is still amped up from the adrenaline,” you say quietly.

Steve smiles wide after seeing your eyes trailing his now half naked body. He walks back to the bed and climbs in next to you. “Is that right,” he mumbles as he stares down at you.

Like the man he is, obsessed with everything that is you, he lifts your shirt up slightly, attempting to take a peek. You chuckle and weakly try to pull his hands away, trying to pull your shirt back down to no avail. “Steven, stop,” you pitifully laugh as he tries taking a peek at your bare breasts under his oversized shirt that you wore.

“I’ve seen them before, no need to be shy,” he laughs shamelessly as he climbs up on top of you, his face mere inches from yours. Steve chuckles and lets go of the shirt, giving you a smirk before resting his forehead on yours.

“If you need ta burn off some of that adrenaline, I can surely help with that, sugar.” You snicker again, tilting your chin up to press light pecks onto Steve’s lips.

“Mmm, as good as that sounds, I’m too worn out, too tired,” you whisper against his lips.

He wraps his arms around your waist and gives you a squeeze, you laugh as he pulls your body closer to his. He nuzzles his nose into your neck for a moment, taking in your sweet scent, just trying to be close to your bare skin, warm and soft from the shower. “Then relax, darlin’. I’ll do all the work, tire that brain of yours out,” he mumbles into your skin.

Instinctively, you can’t help but to let out a groan as Steve’s lips connect to the skin of your neck. Your hand goes to the back of his neck and you tilt your head, giving him more access.

“Oh?” you whisper, intrigued by his suggestion. You feign innocence but you knew exactly what he had in mind; he practically begged for it every day.

Steve starts to leave lingering kisses on your neck, his hands massaging your sides as he works his way up to your ear, his deep voice, almost growling.

“Let me take care of you,” he asks for permission in his own dominant way. Steven didn’t know the word “please.” He begins to kiss behind your ear, starting with soft pecks before he moves to sucking, pulling on your earlobe with his mouth.

You mindlessly nod, silently giving permission for him to do whatever he wanted as long as it meant you didnt’t have to do anything; nine times out of ten, you never had to put in work when fucking Steve, it wasn’t his style. Your hips buck up with a mind of their own, your… his shirt riding up and revealing your skimpy panties.

“But what about you,” you whisper, your hips rolling into his thigh for some semblance of relief. A laugh escapes his lips as his fingers rub up against your thighs, massaging them as he listens to your soft whimpers in his ear. He places kisses on your neck before he responds.

”Honey, don’t worry about me. We’re gonna focus on you tonight.”

Steve’s hands glide down his shirt that you wore, getting closer to the soft skin of your stomach as he slides down your body, pushing up the fabric. He exposes your skin and lets out a huff of relief before attaching his mouth to your stomach, leaving hot and wet kisses all the way down.

“Put that little ass to sleep,” he mumbles against your skin.

You tilt your head down to look at him, gazing into his starkly blue eyes. You give your own huff, but it’s one of disbelief as you shake your head. “How do you plan on doing that?”

All Steve does is give you a wink before he continues to take his time with every kiss that he lands on your skin. “I have my ways..”

Steve moves his face away across your stomach and to your hips, his facial hair scratching against your body. His lips and tongue glide across your hip bone, clearly enjoying himself and the little sounds you make as he gives you all of his attention.

Your stomach flexes under his mouth, your core fluttering with every lick and wet kiss down your body. You jerk at the feel of the stubble on his chin as it grazes your skin, tickling you. Your legs spread to accommodate him, breathing out heavily in impatience and desire. You can feel the vibration of his soft chuckles against your body, his tongue flat as it glides across your bare skin until it meets the crevice where your hip becomes your thigh. Your body jerks at the kiss he plants there.

“You’re so sensitive, honey..” Steve says in a low tone in between kisses, moving a little lower as his hands now grip your thighs. You can't say much as you watch him slide down the bed with ease, pushing the shirt up past your breasts and grabbing a handful before moving to grip your thighs harshly. You bite on your ring fingernail as you peer down at Steve, needing something in your mouth to keep you occupied.

His eyes dart up to your face to see you biting your nail and he grabs your hand, taking the finger out from your mouth. He gently sucks on the finger that was just in your mouth, his wet tongue running across your skin, and his dark blue eyes peering up to look at you the whole time.

”Don’t gotta do that, darlin’. I know somethin’ you can put in there instead-”

Steve plants another kiss just above your hip before he moves to kneel on the floor in between your legs. He runs a couple fingers along the skin of your thighs up to your panties as he stares up at you, a smirk on his lips.

”So, so pretty, sugar.”

“They’d look much better on the floor, Steve,” you mumble, placing your finger back in your mouth and gnawing at your manicured nail.

You suck in a breath as Steve places a kiss to your covered core, the seat of your panties starting to become dark from pooling wetness. He laughs as he runs his nose along the outside of your underwear, his facial hair scratching against it.

”What my ole lady wants, my ole lady gets,” Steve finally mumbles in response against your panties.

He wraps his hands around your thick thighs, his fingers digging into your soft skin while his face is still right in front of your core. He presses a few more gentle kisses against the seat of your panties before he looks up at you, his eyes glinting in anticipation for what he was about to do to you.

“Just relax…”

Steve hooks a couple fingers over the elastic of your panties, pulling them down your legs and off completely to toss them haphazardly across the room. He lifts one of your legs over his shoulder as he looks back up at you, eager as he prepares to do his favorite thing on earth: go down on his girl.

You give an encouraging and impatient nod, unashamed as his face was right in front of your bare pussy. Steve had done this so many times that you couldn’t even be shy anymore. If Steve could have it his way, he’d have his face buried down in you 24/7. There were even times that you woke up to his mouth latched to your clit: in the middle of the night, while dozing off to a movie, to wake you in the mornings…

Steve offers a small laugh as he looks at your soaked pussy, so perfect and sweet. He wraps his arms around your thighs and holds your lips open as his mouth moves closer to your aching pussy. He’s so close but he continues to bait you, his eyes looking up to smirk at you.

“God, I will never get tired of this, honey…”

He finally licks a long stripe down your folds before he pushes his face into you. You feel his tongue start to play with your clit, flicking it over and over, again and again. Your breathing immediately begins to pick up.

Steve chuckles in reaction to your sped up breathing and you can feel him smirk against your skin, the bottom half of his face hidden behind your pelvic bone. You watch him as he watches your breasts rise and fall. He's enjoying you at this moment, completely at his mercy, at his will.

“I want you to let that pretty little mind of yours go blank…” he mumbles into you once he notices you watching him, directing you to close your eyes, let your head fall back, and enjoy the ride.

Once he reattaches his lips to yours, he groans against your skin as he starts to taste you, he’s just where you need him. He is relentless, his tongue and lips running along your most sensitive parts, doing everything he possibly can to ruin you.

“Oh god,” you breathe out, letting your head fall back into the bed like he wants. You blankly stare up at the white ceiling for a moment, the room illuminated by the flickering of the TV before letting your eyes flutter shut for the first time since you woke up at 4 am this morning. Call times for big events were a bitch.

“Mmph,” you whimper as Steve’s calloused, large hands hold your hips down. “Fuck, Steve…”

He groans against your pussy at the sound of his name, hearing you say it in that tone, moaning it just the way he liked. Peeking your head up, you see his eyes closed and his forearm strewn across the base of your belly. You swear, for a moment, you can see his bicep flexing and relaxing, moving in an up and down position, possibly pumping himself with his hand. You weren’t entirely sure, though, his lower half hidden as he knelt at the foot of the bed. However, just the idea of him fisting his cock and getting turned on by the prospects of eating you out, sends a warm tingle down your spine and every muscle in your body. You dropped your head once more and grip the sheets as your legs involuntarily spread wider.

Steve feels you move and grab for something, anything, to hold on to as he eats you out and lets out a gruff hum of approval for his own work. He has you pinned to the bed, his hand gripping your upper thigh. He's wanted to hold you down and eat you out all day, but performance days were a bitch and you both had things to do and places to be all day.

He pulls his face back for just a moment, looking up at you before moving one hand to his chin, swiping off a mix of spit and your arousal, then licking his lips.

“That’s it, darlin’, close them eyes… just like that...” he grumbles before he returns to your center. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you as he continued to feast on you, his tongue doing all sorts of things to you. Hearing you whimper and moan had gotten him so rock hard and all he wanted was to make you finish into his mouth again and again all night long.

You can’t help but to buck your hips up into Steve’s mouth as he eats you out like a mad man. Your body is totally slumped against the bed, one leg limply thrown over Steve’s shoulder. He has to hold your thighs open for you, your body spent by the brutal ladder match you had earlier.

“God, Steven,” you cry out softly, your voice weak as you begin to slip into a dark abyss of pleasure. Your fingers grip the sheets as best they can, every muscle in your body weak from the match and tingly from what Steve was doing to you. All you can hear are his groans, the sick wet sounds from his mouth and your cunt. Your back arches as he brings two thick fingers to your entrance, teasing it to collect the arousal before slipping them in. “Shit,” you whisper.

He can't help but smile proudly against your skin, knowing that he's putting you on edge, bringing you to the very edge of a cliff and leaving you hanging there, holding on by a wound up thread. He's got you right where he wants you. He knows better than anyone that the body of a wrestler isn't always in the best condition, especially after a brutal match, and you were spent, tired, but he was going to take every piece of you until you were out cold. His body was tired and sore too but, for some reason, he had this need to keep going, to keep you until you really couldn't move anymore.

Steve looks up at you as he adds a third finger, hooking the three in search of that sweet spot, that little spongy bump he knew was inside you. He knew that if he didn’t add another, you’d start mumbling some nonsense about feeling empty and needing to be full of him. He briefly pulls his face away and looks up at you, a devilish grin still planted there as he continues to move those three large fingers in and out of your core. He loves having you like this, so compliant and weak, but so eager and hungry for more.

“This pussy tastes fuckin’ insane, girl,” his tongue is slick and wet, his chin glistening as he looks you in the eyes while his fingers move inside of you.

“Steve, I-… oh god, Steve I’m-,” you whine as your tired legs begin to shake against his shoulders, the heel of your foot pressing into his back. Your breathing is labored as you pant out breaths from between your lips and squeeze your eyes shut. Your voice is weak, shaky as you try to tell Steve that you’re so fucking close.

Steve knows what you’re trying to say, he’s been with you long enough to know exactly when you’re at that edge.

“I know what you need, sugar…” he coos. “I know exactly what this pussy needs…”

With a wicked smirk he moves back down, his tongue and mouth go right back to making a mess of your cunt, his movements were a little sloppy as his tired arms struggled to hold you down.

“Come on, girl…” he whispers against your skin as those three fingers start to pump faster, trying to coax that orgasm out of you. He looks up at you without slowing down his finger movements one bit, giving you a somewhat blank glance, but you can barely make out that devilish glimmer that’s still in his eyes. He looks right into your eyes as he speaks, “look at me, honey. When you finish, I want you to look at me.”

You shake your head weakly with a shaky whimper. You can barely hold your eyes open, let alone hold your head up to look down at him while you come.

His foul mouth, filled with filthy words, was sending you over the edge. You were so close that it was damn near painful. Steve snickers to himself before resting his cheek against the soft inside of your thigh. He uses his thumb to rub at your clit as he pumps his fingers in and out, looking up at your pretty face with sweet and playful blue eyes.

“We can compromise,” Steve suggests. He waits until he gets you closer, just a mere seconds away from coming on his fingers. He moves up your body, his fingers still working you as he looms over your body. Your eyes pop open to meet his icy gaze, a smirk playing on his lips as your mouth forms a silent ‘O.’ He watches the beginning of your orgasm as you stare into each other's eyes, you sucking in multiple shallow breaths and arching your back up into him until your breasts meet his pecs.

However, once he feels you pulsing around his fingers, he quickly slides back down your body and attaches his mouth to your core, wanting to taste every bit of your release.

As you start to tip over that edge, he sees it in your eyes. He knows the look in those beautiful eyes when you get close to finishing. Steve’s fingers don’t slow down. The pace he sets is punishing as he stares up into those gorgeous eyes of yours and sees the spark, the excitement, the rush that has now overcome you.

He's relentless, sucking and licking up every drop of you that he can get. He's loving this, he's loving every second of this little game he's playing. Steve lets out a muffled laugh against your skin as he keeps your legs wide open, his nose digging into the top of your mound.

His eyes weren’t locked on yours anymore, they were shut as he basked in your taste and the feeling of your pulsating around his fingers. But you could feel that he still had this hunger, this look in his eyes like he wanted to devour you whole as you came. He was so focused on your pussy, on the way your hips rolled up into his face.

Steve finally opens his eys back up, watching what he could of you has your head was tilted back, watching your lips curl into a circle, the way your chin wobbled, your eyelashes as they fluttered, the way your chest rose and fell, your puckered nipples, your nails digging into the sheets, just everything. The only thing he couldn’t know is what he desperately wanted: to know what was running through your mind, he wanted to get that connection with you.

As you finish, slowly but surely coming down as his fingers slow to stop, he snickes softly to himself while he moves back up and closer to your face, his hand moving to your chin, cupping your face in his hand that wasn’t soaked in your juices.

You watch as he cups your face with his knees on either side of your hips, as he leans over to the bedside table to take a swig of the beer he had cracked open before his shower. He looks down at you with a smug grin as he drinks before putting it back down. Steve leans down to your lips and gives you a quick kiss, the taste of bitter beer and a light taste of yourself. You couldn’t really describe the taste of your own pussy, but it was you… That’s how Steve described it when he wasn’t comparing you to honeydew and plums or other fruits that grew in the south.

You hum into his mouth, your eyelids fluttering as they fight to stay open while you gaze up at him. You lose the battle and eventually have to close your eyes, lolling your head to the side with a satiated sigh.

Steve laughs softly under his breath as you let your head fall. He watches as your breathing becomes more steady, more even, your body and your mind now satisfied and so spent. He looks down at your face, the way this sweat glistens off of you, your chest that still rises and falls with each breath, the slight, sweet smile on your lips.

He lies down next to you, his arm wrapping around your waist. Steve hugs you close to his body. He's still in his tired and sore state as well but this was worth it. He kisses your forehead and whispers softly, “I told you I could help,” he chuckles.

#wwe #steve austin x reader #stone cold steve austin #wwe fanfiction #wwe x reader #steve austin fanfiction #steve austin smut

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hardcore-bradshaw · 2 days ago

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From Soliloquies to Promos: A Short Essay Explaining why Sports Entertainment Wrestling is Modern Day Live Theatre

so, as an english major taking a class on Shakespeare, I had to write an essay on where Shakespeare has been mentioned in modern day pop culture... the wrestling fanatic in me had to find a way to mention shawn michaels and bret hart in my level 3000 class' essay. I couldn't turn in the whole thing and i'm slightly proud of it. so enjoy!

When most people think of William Shakespeare, they envision elaborate Elizabethan-era costumes, terribly taught ninth-grade English classes, and dusty old books carrying language so archaic you need a translation to read along. Conversely, in wrestling, you have loud mouthed, larger-than-life characters delivering body slams, chair hits to the back, and lots of blood. Who in their right mind thinks of combining Shakespeare with sports entertainment wrestling?

The answer is many people, so why conflate the two? Some argue that wrestling is modern-day live theatre with storylines driven by complex characters, "Heels" that mimic Shakespearean tragic heroes and machiavelles, and promos that read like soliloquies if you are high enough. These three main aspects and many others make the combination of the two almost inevitable.

What if Macbeth was an up-and-coming pro wrestler in 1984 New Orleans willing to do anything, terrible things, to get his championship belt? The Crimson Cage by John Lees' is a five-book horror comic that reimagines Macbeth as a pro wrestler already on top locally. Everything changes when Chuck Frenzy finds himself in an encounter with a terrifying being after a match who tells him that he will "hold the title, claim all the spoils of wealth that go with it. You will be recognized as the greatest wrestler in the world" (Lees 12). The reader follows Chuck Frenzy as he takes down the current championship holder, Van Emerald, the stand-in for King Duncan, murders his long-time friend Mais, and watches his wife and manager, Sharlene Frenzy, fall into madness.

Each volume of the comic series follows each act of Macbeth, and while not everything is one-to-one accurate with the play, you see how close the two pieces of media are. It is not that far of a stretch to equate a crown with a championship belt, turn castles into locker rooms, and murderous reigns with ruthless heel turns. However, Lees is not the only person who has combined wrestling with Shakespeare.

"Good John, Sir Cena, whilst thou lay on thy stage upon thy bleak heap, pray my word reach thine ear… thou dost maintain an expertise that I excuse myself hence, and that honor is bearing thy lips to Lord McMahon's ass" is not what CM Punk said in his infamous "Pipe Bomb" promo before leaving the WWE. That is how BleakOrbitStudios reimagined the infamous promo in their YouTube video titled "Wrestling with Shakespeare- The CM Punk Pipe Bomb Promo."

Phil Brooks said: "John Cena, while you lay there, I want you to listen to me… There is one thing you are better at than I am, and that is kissing Vince McMahon's ass" (CM Punk 2011). Barry F. Hess states in his article "On Shakespeare and Wrestling" that "the two may appear to occupy opposite ends of the storytelling spectrum, but a closer examination reveals just how similar they really are."

This explains a huge reason why wrestling and Shakespeare come together so seamlessly: the storytelling. In recent years, wrestling has become known to many as "sports entertainment" because that is a better explanation for what it is as it has moved away from true fighting and more into entertainment.

Many outsiders dismiss wrestling as "fake," but for fans and performers, the power and draw of wrestling does not come from its realism– it is the narrative being told. Every PPV and episode of WWE, TNA, AEW, and so on are all live performances that often follow themes of ruthless ambition, love quarrels, and revenge. Macbeth translates so well into sports entertainment because they both tell stories of someone willing to get power no matter what they must do to acquire it, whether that power be a kingdom or a belt.

Each night, another episode of Raw or Smackdown airs, the storyline progresses, and the viewer finds themselves invested in plots that twist in such dramatic ways with compelling, over-the-top characters. These characters are often known as faces and heels; some have argued that they mimic Shakespearean heroes and machiavelles.

A prime example of a Shakespearean Machiavellian character would be Richard III, a man willing to do anything to acquire power. Mike Edison describes "heels" in sports entertainment as "simply, the villain… and generally involves cheating and pretty much any other manner of socially unacceptable behavior that will get the job done."

Consider Stone Cold Steve Austin, a rarity as a character who entered the company as a "heel" or a villain, who was there to make everyone's life a living hell for no reason other than because he said so and because he wanted the belt; it is a storyline reminiscent of Richard III and even Macbeth.

Shawn Michael's or Bret Hart's storyline arcs better mimic the story of Macbeth, a once-respected Thane turned murderous king, or a once "face" wrestler turned heel. However, even off-screen characters like Vince McMahon start to look a lot like King Lear.

Take Seth Rollins and his betrayal of his brothers in The Shield, attacking the other member with a steel chair. The shocking move that changed the trajectory of WWE storylines for characters and fans forever mirrored Brutus's betrayal of Caesar in Julius Caesar– a story detailing personal betrayal that reshaped the political world and history.

Back to the critique of sports entertainment being nothing more than a filthy lie, that is almost the beauty of it. Much like the Shakespearean history play Richard III, lines get blurred when the audience is unsure when Richard is playing a role or letting his mask slip during his soliloquies. Wrestling has its version of the soliloquy: the promo. A promo is when a wrestler is told to go into the ring, grab a mic, and speak directly to the crowd as they explain their motives and sometimes their real-life grievances.

The best example of this would be the previously mentioned infamous 2011 CM Punk "pipe bomb" before leaving the company, a speech that broke the fourth wall similarly to Richard III's many soliloquies. Whether or not it is CM Punk speaking into that mic or if it is Phil Brooks, the real name of CM Punk, is a blurred line for many, the same way Richard could be showing us his true colors in Act 5, Scene 3 of Richard III.

Pop culture has embraced this overlap, whether it be Lees' The Crimson Cage or Hess's 2015 article, because of the two art forms' shared commitment to character-driven storytelling. William Shakespeare spun wild stories about the complexities of human relationships that challenge loyalty, pride, fiction versus reality, and ambition. Wrestling does the same thing, just increased amounts of body slams and the same amount of penis jokes (thank you Triple H).

The emotional arcs of sports entertainment are similar if you are familiar with Shakespeare: the rising face, an unexpected betrayal, the hero turned villain, and the emasculating downfall leading to ruin. It is not hard to believe that John Lees, an avid wrestling fan, read Macbeth and saw endless possibilities. In the end, there is no "opposites attract" argument. They are the same at their core: an expression of art in a theatrical setting that showcases characters grappling with their circumstances; sometimes, it is Brutus with a Pugio dagger, and sometimes, it is Seth Rollins with a steel chair.

if u made it this far, i hope u enjoyed <3

an essay on why Dutch Van der Linde is a modern day King Lear is coming soon!!

#wow!!!!!#i'm an english major as well #and this fucking slaps!!!!!!#i wanted to write one on how wrestling is our generation's epic literature #kudos!!!!!!!#i support my fellow english majors

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