#definitely not drunk when i drew this late at night | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mononijikayu · 1 month

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drunk tonight — ryomen sukuna.

"Yes, we can." he murmurs, his voice a soft, dominant caress that contrasts sharply with the intensity of the moment. His lips press against your jaw with a sharp, possessive kiss, and you feel your head loll against his, unable to escape the overwhelming sensations. His words are both a promise and a demand, a statement that attempts to bridge the gap between the pain and the passion you’re experiencing. "Because I love you. And you love me."

GENRE: alternate universe - modern au!;

WARNING/S: nsfw, angst, toxic romance, hurt/no comfort, break up, fighting, crying, hurt, physical touch, sexual content, sadness, pain, grief, unhappy ending, depictions of toxic relationship, depiction of grief, depiction of fighting, depiction of sexual content, depiction of loneliness, mention of grief, mention of sexual context, mention of loneliness, toxic ex-boyfriend! sukuna, long suffering ex-girlfriend! reader;

WORD COUNT: 9.4k words

NOTE: the thought bubble says "yes, we can." and "because i love you. and you love me."; i wrote this a while back but i was waiting for the poll to end. but if sukuna wins, then he definitely has his stuff posted first. somehow, sukuna always wins my polls 😆😆😆 anyway, i hope you love this one too!!! i love you all 🫶🫶🫶

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

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YOU DON’T WANT TO ANSWER THE PHONE. Late at night, your phone buzzes, its vibration cutting through the silence like a knife. You glance at the screen, feeling a chill run down your spine as you recognize the number. It’s a number you know all too well, one that you’ve tried to erase from your mind but could never quite forget, no matter how hard you tried.

A sigh escapes your lips, your heart sinking as Sukuna’s name flashes across the screen. It’s a name that once brought you comfort, excitement, even love. But now, it’s just a reminder of everything that went wrong, of the hurt and the scars that never fully healed.

You’ve blocked him on everything—social media, messaging apps, even email. You thought you had cut off every possible avenue for him to reach you, but he always remembered your phone number.

He was always good at that—memorizing details, knowing exactly how to reach you when you least wanted him to. It was one of the things that drew you to him in the first place, his ability to know you so well, to be so in tune with you. But now, it’s a curse, a reminder that no matter how far you try to run, he can always find you.

The text is a mess of jumbled letters and half-formed words, the kind of message that only makes sense to the sender. You can almost hear his deep, slurred voice in your head as you read it, the way he used to talk when he was too far gone, too deep into the bottle. He’s drunk, that much is obvious, and the thought makes your stomach churn.

You roll your eyes, frustration bubbling up inside you. There’s nothing worse than a drunk ex-text. It’s a toxic mix of emotions—regret, anger, longing—all wrapped up in a few poorly typed words. You know how this goes, how the night will unravel if you let it.

He’ll keep texting, maybe even call, and each message will be more desperate, more incoherent than the last. He’ll say things he doesn’t mean, make promises he can’t keep, and you’ll be left holding the pieces of a conversation that never should have happened.

For a moment, you consider ignoring it, just turning off your phone and pretending you never saw it. But you know that won’t make it go away. You know that as long as Sukuna has your number, as long as he has a way to reach you, this cycle will keep repeating itself.

You take a deep breath, your fingers hovering over the screen. You could respond, tell him to stop, to leave you alone once and for all. But part of you knows that won’t work either. You’ve told him before, and yet here you are, staring at another late-night message from the man you once loved.

Your thumb hovers over the message, the words blurring in your tired eyes. You want to be strong, to resist the pull of old emotions and familiar patterns. But there’s a part of you that’s still connected to him, a part that wants to reach out, to understand why he can’t just let you go.

But you know better. You’ve been down this road too many times before. And as much as it hurts, as much as it feels like tearing a piece of your heart out, you know what you have to do. With a sigh, you delete the message, your chest tightening as you do. You close your eyes, trying to block out the guilt, the sadness, the tiny voice in your head that says maybe this time will be different. But you know it won’t. It never is.

You can’t even muster the energy to be angry. It’s all too familiar, the cycle of hurt and regret that you both keep getting sucked into. You start typing back, your fingers trembling slightly with the weight of it all.

“Sukuna, stop. Wherever you are, just stop.” You hesitate, your thumb hovering over the screen. But you need to say this—you need to finally put it to rest. “This hurts, all of it. It’s a mess, and we’ve broken up. You need to stop chasing after me. We can’t go back.”

There’s a long pause. You wonder if he’ll leave it at that, but another text pings through.

“I can’t… I can’t live with this without trying. Please…”

You swallow hard, feeling the ache in your chest, but you’ve made up your mind. This is a wound that needs to heal, and reopening it will only make it worse.

“Sukuna, I’m done. You need to be, too.” You send the message, and this time, you turn off your phone. The silence that follows is almost deafening, but it’s the first step towards finally moving on.

You purse your lips, staring at the screen as his last message burns into your mind. You know he’s just too drunk tonight. He doesn’t really want you back—not the way he thinks he does. He’s just broken inside, sad and high, and you can feel the weight of his loneliness pressing through the words.

A lump forms in your throat as the urge to cry wells up again. It hurts because deep down, you know the truth. He doesn’t want you back. He’s just lonely, aching for something familiar to fill the void. You’ve been there before, reaching out in desperation, hoping for comfort in the arms of someone who used to mean everything. But that was then, and this is now.

You type slowly, forcing yourself to keep going, even though each word feels like a knife twisting deeper into your heart. "Sukuna, you’re not really after me. You’re just lonely and sad, and I get that. But this… us… it’s over. We ended things for a reason."

Your fingers hesitate over the next part, but you push through the pain. "We hurt each other too much. I didn’t want to be with you anymore because all we did was tear each other apart. And I don’t want that for either of us."

You take a shaky breath, knowing what you need to say, even if it feels like ripping off a bandage from a wound that hasn’t fully healed. "So put down the phone, Sukuna. It’s time to go home. You’re just drunk tonight.”

You hit send, and the tears that you’ve been holding back finally spill over. You’ve been strong for so long, but tonight, in the quiet of your room, you allow yourself to feel the full weight of everything you’ve lost and everything you’ve chosen to leave behind.

You ended things because you knew it was the right thing to do, but that doesn’t make it any easier. And even though you’re telling him to move on, a part of you is whispering the same words to yourself. It’s time to let go, for real this time. It’s time to heal, even if that means facing the pain head-on and accepting that some things can never be fixed.

Your phone rings, and your heart sinks as you see his name flashing across the screen. You hesitate, your thumb hovering over the decline button. You know you shouldn’t answer, know that nothing good can come from this. But some part of you—maybe out of concern, maybe out of habit—hits the green button.

“Sukuna, don’t—”

“I’m on my way.” he interrupts, his voice slurred but filled with a determination that chills you. “I need to see you. We need to talk.”

Your stomach drops, and a sense of dread washes over you. “No, Sukuna. Don’t do this. You’re not thinking straight.”

There’s a pause on the other end, a brief silence where you can hear him breathing heavily, as if he’s fighting to keep his composure. “I have to see you.” he repeats, softer this time, almost pleading. “Please. I…..I want to see you. I wanna…I wanna be with you.”

“Sukuna, please.” you say, your voice trembling. “You’re drunk, you’re not yourself. Turn around and go home. You’re only going to make this harder—for both of us.”

“I don’t care.” he snaps, and you can hear the desperation creeping into his voice. A desperation that’s never been there before. “I can’t keep living like this, pretending I don’t need you. I’ll be there soon.”

Panic starts to set in. You feel trapped, knowing that no amount of reasoning will get through to him tonight. “Sukuna, if you show up here, I won’t open the door. I mean it.”

There’s a harsh laugh on the other end. “You will. You always do.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut because they’re true, or at least they were. You can’t deny the history between you two, the countless times you’ve stood at the edge of this same precipice, teetering between resolve and surrender.

How many times had you given in, opened the door, and let him back into your life, even when every fiber of your being screamed that you shouldn’t? You’ve lost count, the memories blurring together into a painful montage of late-night confessions, tearful apologies, and broken promises.

Each time, you told yourself it would be the last. You would stand firm, hold your ground, and finally cut the ties that bound you to him. But then he would show up—vulnerable, raw, and desperate—and the walls you had so carefully constructed would crumble in an instant.

He knew exactly how to reach you, how to twist the knife just enough to remind you of what you once had, what you once were. And for a fleeting moment, you’d believe that maybe, just maybe, things could be different this time.

But they never were. The darkness that surrounded him, that clung to your relationship like a shroud, always found a way to seep back in. It would start slowly—a harsh word here, a lingering silence there—but soon, it would consume you both, dragging you back into a toxic cycle of pain and regret. Each time you let him back in, you lost a little more of yourself, a little more of the light that once defined who you were.

But you can’t do that anymore. You can’t keep losing pieces of yourself to a love that no longer serves you, to a relationship that has long since become a shadow of what it once was. You’ve fought too hard to reclaim your life, to step out of the darkness and into the light of something better, something healthier. You’ve built yourself back up, brick by brick, and you can’t let him tear it all down again.

This time, it has to be different. This time, you can’t open the door, no matter how much he begs, no matter how much it hurts to turn him away. You can’t let him drag you back into the darkness that you fought so hard to escape. You deserve more—more than late-night texts filled with empty promises, more than a love that only thrives in the shadows. You deserve peace, stability, and a future that isn’t haunted by the ghosts of a past you can’t change.

So you take a deep breath, steeling yourself against the familiar pull of his words, the seductive lure of what could have been. You remind yourself of the pain, the nights spent crying, the days filled with anxiety and doubt. You remind yourself that you’ve survived without him, that you’ve thrived in ways you never could have imagined when you were still caught in his web.

And as much as it hurts, as much as it feels like a betrayal of everything you once held dear, you know that you have to let him go. You have to close the door, lock it, and walk away—this time for good. Because if you don’t, you’ll never truly be free. And freedom, you realize, is worth more than any fleeting moment of comfort he could offer. You can’t let him pull you back into the darkness. You’ve come too far, and it’s time to finally step into the light.

“No, I won’t.” you say, forcing steel into your voice. “Not this time. If you care about me at all, you’ll turn around and go home. You’ll stop this before it gets worse.”

He doesn’t respond right away, and for a moment, you think maybe, just maybe, he’ll listen. But then he speaks again, his voice rough and broken. “I’m almost there. Just… wait for me.”

Your heart is racing now, your mind scrambling for what to do. “Sukuna, if you come here, I’ll call the police. I’m serious.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath on the other end, and then, finally, silence. You think he’s hung up, but then he speaks again, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry for everything. But I have to try.”

He hangs up before you can respond, leaving you standing there, staring at your phone with your heart pounding in your chest. You feel sick, torn between the history you share and the need to protect yourself from the man he’s become.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside you. You don’t want to call the police, don’t want to escalate things that far, but you need to be ready. You need to stay strong, for your own sake.

With trembling hands, you lock your door, turn off the lights, and sit down on the edge of your bed, phone clutched tightly in your hand. You wait, praying that he’ll turn around, that he’ll finally realize that what you had is gone, and it’s time to let it go. But deep down, you know this isn’t over—not tonight, not until he’s standing at your door, and you’re forced to make the hardest decision of your life.

The minutes tick by slowly, each one heavier than the last. You sit in the dark, your breath shallow and your nerves frayed, listening for any sound that might signal his arrival. Every car that passes by your window makes your heart jump, your mind conjuring images of him stumbling out, determined and reckless.

You think back to the times when things were good between you two, when his intensity was something you admired, even loved. But that intensity had turned into something else, something darker and more destructive, and you couldn’t let it consume you both any longer.

Your phone vibrates again, pulling you out of your thoughts. Another message from Sukuna:

“I’m here.”

You freeze, your blood running cold. He’s close, maybe right outside. You stand up slowly, moving toward the window with a mix of dread and resolve. Peering through the curtains, you see his figure in the dim light, leaning against a lamppost across the street, his silhouette unmistakable.

He looks up, and even from this distance, you can see the torment in his eyes, the way his shoulders sag with the weight of whatever he’s carrying. But you can’t let that sway you. You’ve made your choice, and you need to stand by it.

Your phone vibrates again, the familiar buzz sending a jolt through your already frayed nerves. You don’t even need to look at the screen to know it’s him. The notification hangs in the air like a weight, pressing down on your chest, making it hard to breathe.

With a trembling hand, you unlock your phone, the brightness of the screen almost blinding in the darkness of your room. His message is there, short and desperate, the words filled with a plea that you’ve heard too many times before:

“Please, just open the door. We can talk, I swear. I won’t make a scene.”

You close your eyes, willing yourself to stay calm, to keep the tears at bay. His voice echoes in your mind, the deep, gravelly tone that once brought you comfort now only serves to break you down. You can almost picture him on the other side of that door, his eyes wide with that familiar mix of anger and sadness, his posture tense with anticipation. He’s close, so close that you can feel his presence like a shadow creeping over your heart.

It would be so easy to give in, to let him in one more time, to listen to whatever promises he has prepared for tonight. After all, you’ve done it before—opened that door despite knowing it would lead to nothing but more heartache. But tonight feels different. Tonight, there’s a finality in the air, a sense that if you open that door now, it won’t just be another mistake; it will be the last one, the one that shatters whatever remnants of strength you’ve managed to hold onto.

You swallow hard, your throat tight with the urge to cry. You know him too well; you know he won’t leave unless you confront him, unless you face him head-on. He’s stubborn like that, relentless in his pursuit of what he wants, even when it’s something—or someone—that’s no longer his to claim.

But you also know, deep in your bones, that opening that door is the last thing you should do. It’s a line you can’t cross, not this time. Because if you do, you’ll be dragged right back into the storm you’ve fought so hard to escape. You’ll be pulled into his orbit, where everything is chaotic and intense, where love and pain are intertwined so tightly that you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.

You take a shaky breath, your hand hovering over the door handle as your mind races. What could he possibly say that he hasn’t already said? What could he promise that he hasn’t already broken? The answers are clear, but the pull of the past is strong, and it tugs at you with a force that’s hard to resist.

But you have to resist. You have to stay strong, for your own sake. Because you know that once you open that door, once you let him back in, all the progress you’ve made, all the nights you’ve spent rebuilding yourself, will be undone. You’ll be right back where you started—lost, hurt, and wondering why you ever let him back into your life.

Your heart aches with the weight of it all, but you know what you have to do. You know that tonight, you have to choose yourself, even if it means walking away from someone you once loved with every part of your being.

So you close your eyes, forcing yourself to breathe through the pain, to let it wash over you without letting it consume you. You clench your fists, nails digging into your palms as you fight back the urge to cry, to scream, to throw open that door and let everything unravel.

But you don’t. You stay where you are, standing firm in the decision you’ve made. Because tonight, for the first time in a long time, you’re choosing to protect your heart instead of breaking it all over again.

You steady your breathing, forcing yourself to stay calm as the reality of the situation sinks in. Each vibration of your phone feels like a pulse of pain, a reminder of the emotional battleground you’re standing on. You know that answering the door would only open the floodgates, allowing the turmoil and chaos of the past to flood back into your life. You’ve fought so hard to reclaim your peace, and you refuse to let it slip away now.

With a deep breath, you take a moment to center yourself. You remind yourself of the reasons you’ve decided to cut ties, the countless times you’ve faced heartache, and the strength it took to rebuild your life. This decision, though painful, is a necessary step to ensure you don’t lose everything you’ve worked so hard to achieve.

You get up and move to your front door, standing just a few inches away. The cold, unyielding surface feels like a barrier between you and the chaos you’ve left behind. You listen for any sounds—footsteps, a knock—but the night is eerily quiet, punctuated only by the occasional rumble of distant traffic. It’s as if the world itself is holding its breath, waiting for you to make the choice that will define this moment.

Another message from Sukuna pings through, and you resist the urge to check it. Instead, you focus on the decision at hand, the choice you’ve already made. You know that the best way to move forward is to keep the past where it belongs—behind you.

You glance at your phone once more and see that Sukuna has called you again. Your heart races, but you refuse to answer. You let the call go to voicemail, the familiar chime sounding distant and detached. Each unanswered call is a step towards reclaiming your autonomy, towards making it clear that you will not be dragged back into the emotional mess that has defined your relationship.

The minutes tick by slowly, each one feeling like an eternity. Finally, there’s silence—no more texts, no more calls. You take a deep breath, letting the calm settle over you. You feel the weight of your decision settle into your bones, a mixture of relief and sorrow. You’ve chosen to protect yourself, to preserve the hard-earned peace you’ve fought for.

As you turn away from the door, you feel a mixture of sadness and strength. The pain of seeing Sukuna’s name, the torment of his pleas, is still fresh, but you’ve managed to hold firm. You’ve chosen not to open the door, not to let him back into your life. This choice, as difficult as it was, is a testament to your resolve, to your commitment to yourself.

You sit back down, wrapping yourself in a blanket of quiet determination. The tears you’ve fought so hard to keep at bay finally come, not as a sign of weakness but as a release of all the emotions you’ve been holding inside. They’re a reminder of your humanity, of the depth of your feelings, but they’re also a sign of your strength—strength you needed to make the right decision, no matter how hard it was.

You’ve done what you needed to do to protect your heart, and now, you allow yourself to grieve, to heal, and to move forward. You close your eyes, letting the tears flow, and in the silence of your room, you begin the process of letting go, knowing that you’ve taken a crucial step toward finding the peace and happiness you deserve.

You reach for your phone, your hands trembling slightly as you begin to type out a message. You need to be firm, clear, and compassionate, even if you’re struggling with your own emotions. You know that any form of communication right now will only complicate things, but you also want to make sure Sukuna understands the finality of your decision.

With a deep breath, you type:

“Sukuna, I can’t talk to you right now. Please, just go home. We can’t have this conversation tonight. I need some space, and I need you to respect that. Please understand and go home.”

You hit send, watching as the message is delivered. For a moment, you feel a flicker of hope that this will be the end of it, that he’ll respect your wishes and leave you alone. You’ve made your boundaries clear, and now it’s up to him to honor them.

Minutes pass in tense silence, and your phone stays quiet. You sit back down, trying to calm your racing heart, focusing on the quiet around you instead of the anxiety that has taken root in your chest.

But then, a new message comes through. You don’t even need to look to know that it’s from Sukuna. With a heavy heart, you open it:

“I just need to see you. I’m sorry for everything, but I can’t let this end like this. Please.”

You can almost hear the desperation in his words, the anguish that comes from knowing he’s losing you. But you also know that this isn’t just about you and him anymore. It’s about your own well-being, your need to set boundaries and stick to them, even when it’s incredibly hard.

You type back:

“No, Sukuna. This is not the time. I’ve made my decision, and I need you to respect it. I can’t keep doing this. Please, just go home.”

You hit send, feeling the weight of your words settle heavily on your shoulders. You’re asking for something that feels almost impossible—to respect a boundary when emotions are high, when both of you are vulnerable. But it’s necessary.

You put your phone aside and try to find a way to soothe the emotional storm inside you. You remind yourself of why you made this decision, of the personal growth you’ve achieved, and the need to maintain your peace. You try to focus on the positives of your life and the future you’re working toward, hoping that with time, the pain of this moment will fade and you’ll find a way to heal.

Hours tick by slowly, each minute feeling like an eternity. Finally, there’s a quiet relief in knowing that, at least for now, you’ve done all you can. You’ve set your boundaries and communicated your needs as clearly as possible.

You let yourself close your eyes, allowing the exhaustion to wash over you. The road to recovery will be long and fraught with moments like this, but for tonight, you’ve taken a crucial step toward reclaiming your life. As you drift into a fitful sleep, you hold onto the hope that tomorrow will bring clarity and a renewed sense of peace, allowing you to continue moving forward.

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IF THERE WAS A LOVE STORY WORTH MENTIONING, IT’S YOURS. Because in truth, it wasn’t a love story. It was a painful hurt instead. The romance between you and Sukuna was a tumultuous symphony of passion and pain, a story that oscillated between intense highs and devastating lows. It was a love that consumed everything in its path, leaving behind a trail of broken dreams and shattered hearts.

You, the good girl with a heart full of hope and idealism, and him, the quintessential troublemaker whose very presence seemed to stir chaos wherever he went. It was a match made in hell, an explosive combination of purity and defiance that sparked with an almost palpable intensity.

From the beginning, there was an undeniable chemistry between you two, a magnetic pull that drew you into Sukuna’s orbit. You were drawn to his raw energy, the way he seemed to live on the edge of every emotion, pushing boundaries and challenging norms. His life was a whirlwind of excitement and unpredictability, and it was a stark contrast to the more controlled and orderly world you inhabited.

At first, the contrasts were thrilling. Your calm demeanor and responsible nature seemed to balance out his reckless tendencies, creating a dynamic that felt electric and invigorating. You believed that your love could be the force that tamed his wildness, that your stability could anchor him amidst his stormy existence.

But as time went on, the initial thrill gave way to a more complex and painful reality. Sukuna’s troublemaking ways began to seep into every aspect of your relationship, turning what was once exciting into something exhausting. His impulsiveness, once charming, became a source of constant stress and conflict. The very qualities that attracted you to him started to feel like burdens, and the harmony you sought began to slip through your fingers.

The highs were dizzying—moments of intense connection and fiery passion that made you feel alive and on top of the world. But the lows were equally devastating, each conflict leaving deeper wounds, each argument a reminder of how differently you saw the world. The love that had once seemed like a perfect escape from your own constraints now felt like a whirlwind of chaos that you couldn’t control.

Your attempts to bring order and stability to the relationship often clashed with Sukuna’s need for freedom and rebellion. The more you tried to ground him, the more he resisted, and the cycle of conflict and resolution became a relentless pattern. The love that once felt like a daring adventure turned into a series of battles, each one leaving both of you more scared than the last.

Ultimately, the contrast between your worlds proved too great. The boundaries you set were repeatedly crossed, the promises made were broken too many times. The passion that had once ignited your connection became the fuel for your destruction. What began as a match made in hell had devolved into a battlefield of emotional devastation.

You were left to pick up the pieces of a love that had burned too brightly, too destructively. The remnants of your time together were a stark reminder of the dangers of mixing such opposing forces. In the end, the love you shared was a powerful testament to the intense beauty and agony of a relationship that, despite its fiery start, was doomed from the beginning.

From the beginning, the relationship was marked by a magnetic pull that was impossible to ignore. Sukuna's charisma and intensity drew you in, his presence filling every space with an almost palpable energy. There was a fire in his eyes, a promise of something deeper and more profound, and you were captivated by the allure of his raw power and unfiltered emotions.

At first, it felt like a dream. His touch was electric, his words charged with a potent mix of desire and vulnerability. You would get lost in his gaze, swept away by the intensity of his kisses, believing that this was what true love was supposed to feel like. Every argument, every make-up, every moment of passion felt like a confirmation of the bond you shared.

You couldn’t stand it anymore, how tired you were. How truly full of it you were. how emotionally drained you’ve been. You found yourself face-to-face with Sukuna in the dimly lit living room. He stood close, his gaze intense and his voice almost a whisper, yet filled with an undeniable gravity.

"I'm sorry." Sukuna said, his eyes searching yours for some sign of forgiveness. "I never meant for things to get so out of hand. I just... I can't stand the thought of losing you."

You could feel the weight of his words, the sincerity mixed with a touch of desperation. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart.

"You say that now, but it feels like we’re always back here, fighting and making up," you replied, your voice trembling slightly. "I thought this was supposed to be different. I thought we were building something real."

Sukuna reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek with a gentleness that belied his earlier anger. "It is real. What we have is intense, but it’s real. I know I mess up, but I need you to understand that I can’t imagine my life without you. You’re everything to me."

You looked at him, feeling the familiar mix of pain and passion. “I don’t know if I can keep doing this, Sukuna. Every time we fight, it feels like we’re tearing each other apart. Maybe this intensity isn’t what I thought it was.”

He stepped closer, his voice filled with an earnest plea. “Please, don’t say that. We can work through this. I know I’m not perfect, but we have something special. We just need to fight for it, not let it slip away because of a few mistakes.”

You shook your head, tears welling up. “It’s not just a few mistakes. It’s the pattern, the way things keep repeating. I want to believe in us, but it’s getting harder every day. We’re not just having moments of passion anymore; we’re living in a storm.”

Sukuna’s expression softened, and he pulled you into a tight embrace. “I don’t want to be the storm in your life. I just want to be with you. Please, let me show you that we can be more than this.”

As his arms wrapped around you, the warmth of his body was a stark contrast to the cold reality of your situation. You said nothing as you leaned into the warmth of his body. The intensity of his words and the fire in his eyes were a powerful reminder of his hold on you. You forgave him that night once again, as you always did. And once again, you were trapped.

But beneath the surface of this passionate connection lay a darker undercurrent, one that grew stronger with time. Sukuna's emotional volatility was not just a fleeting characteristic; it was a core part of who he was. His moods shifted with little warning, swinging from intense affection to cold detachment. What seemed like an endearing quirk quickly revealed itself as a source of profound instability.

Sukuna's massive hand moved to your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands you had painstakingly did. You were ignoring him again after your recent fight. You just wanted peace of mind from him. And you knew that he hated being ignored. You know he hated being forgotten. You were the only person in his life that dealt with him, all his everything — and to not have you there shatters him. As much, you suppose, when he shatters you by loving you.

His other hand wrapped around your side, pulling you closer against him with a possessive strength. You felt the heat of his body pressing against yours, his touch both demanding and overwhelming. He leaned in, his breath hot against your neck as he started to kiss and nibble along your skin.

The kisses were intense, growing more fervent until he bit down, his teeth breaking through the delicate skin. A cry escaped your lips, a mix of pain and confusion. You could feel Sukuna speaking against your skin, his voice muffled and indistinct, but the words were lost in the haze of sensation and hurt.

The pressure of his hand on the back of your neck was unrelenting, anchoring you to him and heightening the intensity of the moment. It was only when his fingers pressed firmly against the nape of your neck that everything snapped into focus. The sharp reality of the situation cut through the fog, pulling you back to the present.

The biting pain, the tight grip, and the overwhelming closeness were all too much. You could see the raw, unfiltered emotion in his eyes, the storm of feelings that often clouded his judgment. In that moment, you were starkly aware of the power dynamics at play, the fine line between passion and control, and the deep-seated turmoil that defined your relationship.

The kiss, now a blend of pain and longing, was a stark reminder of the complexity of your love—both fierce and destructive. The intimacy of the touch, the raw intensity, and the sharp bite were all part of the same emotional spectrum, where passion and pain were often intertwined in ways that left you feeling vulnerable and conflicted.

You could feel your skin growing moist, a cold sweat breaking out across your entire body as you struggled to maintain your sanity against his relentless touch. Ryomen Sukuna had a way of overwhelming you, of winning you over even when you were trying to resist. His touch always managed to reach places you thought were well-guarded, stirring up sensations that you couldn’t ignore. You could feel your body betraying you, slick pooling between your legs, a stark contrast to the turmoil inside your mind.

With a swift movement, Sukuna pinned you against the wall, his body pressing hard against yours. His kisses grew even more rough and demanding, each press of his lips a reminder of the intensity and chaos that defined your relationship. His hands roamed over your chest, fingers pinching and teasing, heightening the mix of pleasure and pain.

"Sukuna, slow down. It hurts." you cried out, your voice wavering as you tried to make yourself heard over the roar of conflicting emotions. The rawness in your voice was a plea for understanding, a desperate attempt to make him see the damage being done. "Sukuna, we... oh, we won't fix anything with this."

His grip faltered for a moment, but only just. He paused, his breath ragged and heavy against your skin, his eyes dark with a mixture of frustration and desire. There was a flicker of hesitation, a moment where he seemed to question the reality of the situation. But the tension in his body remained, the emotional storm far from over.

Your heart pounded as you struggled to maintain your composure, to hold onto a shred of clarity amidst the haze of his touch. The physical connection was undeniable, but it was the emotional wreckage that left you feeling most exposed. The passion that once felt exhilarating now seemed like a dangerous force that threatened to consume you both.

His words are both a promise and a demand, a statement that attempts to bridge the gap between the pain and the passion you’re experiencing. "Because I love you. And you love me."

The declaration hangs heavily in the air, mingling with the heat of the moment. You mewl softly, a sound of both surrender and confusion. His touch and words are a potent mix, stirring emotions that you’ve been trying to keep in check.

In your turmoil, you find yourself grappling with the truth of his words. The love you shared is undeniable, and it’s clear he still feels it deeply. Yet, the intensity of him and the roughness of his touch make it hard to reconcile with the pain and frustration that have become a part of your relationship.

"Even if you love me….." you manage to say, your voice trembling. "We can’t fix everything like this. We’re hurting each other, Sukuna.”

He doesn’t pull away, his gaze fixed on yours with an intensity that makes it difficult to look away. The struggle between your emotions and his unyielding desire leaves you feeling torn, caught between the remnants of your past connection and the harsh reality of the present.

Sukuna’s grip remains firm, his dark red eyes not leaving yours. In this moment, the lines between love and pain blur — as it was with your relationship. The declaration of love feels both comforting and confounding, leaving you with the painful realization that while feelings might persist, the way you’re handling them is only adding to the emotional wreckage. You were in love with him as much as he was with you. But what was the point of this? Of this suffering?

But as he pleasured you, you never said anything. You just let him love you painfully, because that’s all he knew. It was a raw, visceral form of connection, a way he expressed what he felt, even if it was damaging. It was all he could give, the only way he knew how to bridge the gap between you.

As you felt him inside of you, there was a deep, painful connection that mingled with the physical sensations. It was a painful reminder of the way your love had always been—intense, consuming, and sometimes overwhelmingly conflicted. The pleasure was intertwined with the hurt, making it difficult to distinguish one from the other.

You accepted it, allowing the moment to unfold as it did. In your mind, you grappled with the reality of your situation—recognizing that this was how Sukuna knew to express his love, even if it was fraught with pain. And so, in the midst of the storm of sensations, you let yourself be caught up in the complexity of your emotions, trying to find a semblance of understanding amidst the chaos.

Arguments became frequent, fueled by misunderstandings and a growing sense of frustration. The intensity that once seemed thrilling now felt suffocating. Sukuna's need for control and dominance clashed with your desire for independence, creating a constant struggle for power. What was once exhilarating now felt like an endless cycle of conflict and resolution, each cycle leaving deeper emotional scars you didn’t want.

The tension in the air was palpable. You were sitting on the edge of the bed, your hands clenched in frustration, while Sukuna stood across the room, his posture rigid with anger and jealousy. His eyes were fixed on you, his gaze fierce and unrelenting, the result of a recent encounter with one of your friends who had been a bit too touchy for his liking.

"You’re always so quick to run off." Sukuna snapped, his voice sharp and laced with irritation. "Why can’t you just stay and deal with things like an adult? I’ve seen the way you look at others. Do you think I’m blind?"

You turned to face him, your heart pounding with a mix of anger and desperation. "It’s not about anyone else. It’s about us. You’re always so controlling. You want to dictate every part of my life. I need space, Sukuna. I need to be able to breathe."

His eyes flared with frustration as he stepped closer, the intensity of his emotions almost tangible. "Space? That’s what you call it? I saw the way you were with him tonight. It’s like you’re trying to push me away, like you’re looking for excuses to slip through my fingers."

You stood up, feeling the weight of his words pressing down on you. "It’s not about looking for excuses. I’m not trying to push you away. I just need to feel like I can make my own choices without feeling like I’m under constant surveillance. This isn’t about him. It’s about the way you’re smothering me."

Sukuna’s frustration was evident in the way he paced the room, his fists clenched at his sides. "Smothering you? I’m just trying to hold onto what we have. If you’d stop running and actually listen, maybe we could work things out. But every time I turn around, it feels like you’re slipping further away."

"You’re not holding onto what we have, Sukuna." you said, your voice trembling. "You’re suffocating me. Every time we have an argument, you try to control me even more. I need space to figure out what I want without feeling like I’m being watched and judged every second."

Sukuna stopped pacing and looked at you with a mixture of anger and hurt. "I don’t want to control you. I want to be with you, but it feels like you’re constantly pushing me away. I just don’t know how to handle it when I see you getting close to others. It makes me feel like I’m losing you."

The room fell silent, the air thick with unresolved emotions. You could see the pain in his eyes, the fear of losing you. But you also felt the deep, suffocating grip of his jealousy and control. The love that once felt exciting now seemed like a battleground, and the constant cycle of arguments and attempts at resolution were leaving both of you emotionally drained.

"I don’t want us to keep going in circles like this, Sukuna." you said softly, your heart aching. "We need to find a way to be together without this constant struggle. Otherwise, we’re just going to keep hurting each other."

Sukuna’s gaze softened slightly, but the tension remained. "I don’t know how to change things if you won’t let me in, you know that." he said, his voice a mix of vulnerability and frustration. "I just want us to be okay, but it feels like we’re constantly fighting against each other."

You took a deep breath, trying to remain calm despite the sting of his accusation. "That wasn’t flirting. I was just being polite. And even if I was, what does it matter? You can’t keep trying to control me like this. We can’t keep doing this.”

He stepped closer, his anger palpable. "You think you’re so perfect, don’t you? Always so independent, always so self-righteous. I’m the one who’s always fighting to keep us together. And this is how you repay me? By pushing me away and seeking attention from others?"

His words cut deep, each one a painful reminder of the control he exerted over your life. "This isn’t about repaying you. It’s about being true to myself. I’m tired of feeling like I have to constantly prove my loyalty to you. I’m not your possession."

Sukuna’s face contorted with frustration, and he slammed his fist against the wall. "You think this is easy for me? Watching you slip away while I’m left here fighting to keep us from falling apart? I’m trying to hold onto something real, and you’re pushing me away."

The hurt in his voice was undeniable, a mix of jealousy and desperation. But you could see the cracks in his control, the way his need for dominance had become a cage that both of you were trapped in.

"I’m not trying to push you away." you said, your voice trembling. "I’m trying to find a way to be myself without feeling like I’m suffocating under your expectations. We’re stuck in this cycle of fighting and making up, and it’s tearing us apart."

Sukuna’s expression softened for a moment, the anger giving way to a look of vulnerability. "I just don’t want to lose you. I know I’m not perfect, but I need you to understand how much you mean to me."

You sighed, feeling the weight of his words. "I know you care, but the way you show it is suffocating. We need to find a way to be together without this constant power struggle. Otherwise, we’re just going to keep hurting each other."

The room fell silent, the intensity of the argument leaving both of you exhausted. The love that once felt like a thrilling adventure now seemed like a battlefield, with each conflict leaving deeper scars. The vibrant energy that had once sparked between you was now overshadowed by an unrelenting cycle of discord and unresolved tension.

You wrapped your arms around your chest, as though trying to hug and comfort yourself amid the emotional wreckage. Your shoulders shook slightly with the effort to maintain composure, but even more tears were inevitable.

Sukuna’s posture was a reflection of his internal struggle, his anger giving way to a raw vulnerability. He took a hesitant step towards you, his voice trembling. “What do you want me to do?” he whispered, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “What can I do, to…to make you stay?”

The softness in his voice, the genuine plea for understanding, struck a deep chord. You could see the pain and desperation etched into his features, the realization of how precariously close he was to losing you. Yet, amidst the raw emotion, you felt overwhelmed and trapped.

“I don’t know,” you replied, your voice breaking as the tears began to fall freely. “I’m tired, Sukuna. I’m tired… of loving you and losing you all at once.”

His shoulders sagged as he absorbed your words, the weight of your exhaustion evident in his expression. The tears that prickled at his eyes now spilled over, reflecting the depth of his own despair. His gaze fell to the floor, unable to meet yours, the crushing reality of your relationship settling heavily between you.

The room was filled with a profound silence, broken only by the soft sounds of your sobs and his choked breaths. The love you shared, which had once been a source of exhilaration and passion, now felt like a relentless cycle of joy and pain that neither of you could escape.

Sukuna’s voice was barely audible as he spoke again, his tone carrying a sense of helplessness. “I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t know how to make things right when everything feels so broken.”

You wiped at your tears, the exhaustion of the emotional turmoil leaving you feeling drained. “Neither do I.” you admitted softly. “I wish I had the answers. I wish I could find a way to make things work, but right now, it feels like we’re stuck in a never-ending loop of hurt and confusion.”

Sukuna’s silence was heavy with resignation, a poignant acknowledgment of the struggle that had become an inescapable part of your relationship. The love that had once been a source of strength and excitement now seemed overshadowed by a painful reality that neither of you knew how to navigate.

In that quiet moment, both of you were left grappling with the depth of your feelings, the complexity of your relationship, and the painful truth that sometimes love alone isn’t enough to overcome the barriers that keep you apart.

Sukuna's tears continued to fall, and he moved closer, his steps hesitant but deliberate. He reached out tentatively, his fingers brushing against your arm in a gesture that was both gentle and desperate.

“I never meant to make things so difficult,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “I thought... I thought if I held on tight, if I tried harder, we could work through it. But now, I see how much I’ve pushed you away.”

You looked at him, your own tears blurring your vision. The sight of him, vulnerable and torn, added to the weight of your own sorrow. You wanted to reach out, to offer comfort, but the chasm between you felt insurmountable.

“I know you were trying,” you said, your voice cracking. “But the way you tried to control things... it pushed me away more than anything else. I felt like I was losing myself in trying to make things work.”

Sukuna’s hand tightened around your arm, his grip firm but not painful. “What do you need from me?” he asked, his voice desperate. “Tell me what I can do to make things right, to fix this.”

You shook your head, struggling to find the words to express the depth of your exhaustion and the confusion that clouded your mind. “I don’t know if there’s anything that can fix this right now. I just feel... lost.”

His expression softened, the realization dawning that perhaps the damage was too great to repair immediately. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice breaking. “I’m sorry for everything. I never wanted to hurt you. I just didn’t know how to handle my own fears and insecurities.”

You nodded, the sadness overwhelming. “I know. And I’m sorry too. I’m sorry that we couldn’t find a way to make this work without hurting each other so much.”

The silence between you was heavy, filled with the echoes of what had been and what might never be again. The love that had once felt so alive now seemed like a distant memory, overshadowed by the pain and the sense of inevitability.

Sukuna’s hand slowly fell away from your arm, and he took a step back, his shoulders slumped in defeat. “Maybe... maybe we both need some time apart to figure things out. To heal and find ourselves again.”

You looked at him, a mix of relief and sorrow washing over you. “Maybe you’re right. I need time to understand what I really want and to heal from all of this.”

Sukuna nodded, his face a mask of resignation and understanding. “I hope... I hope we can both find a way to be okay, even if it means being apart.”

With that, Sukuna turned and walked towards the door, each step heavy with the weight of what was ending. As he left, the silence of the room seemed to deepen. You sat down on the edge of the bed once more, your emotions a tangled mess of sadness and relief. The path ahead was uncertain, but in the quiet that followed, you felt more alone than ever before. But free. Freed from your own ruin.

▬ι══════════════ι▬

YOU COULDN’T DO IT ANYMORE IN THE END. In the end, you did break up with him. The cycle of arguments and reconciliation had become a never-ending loop, a house of cards that seemed destined to collapse no matter how carefully it was built. You loved him deeply, that was undeniable. But you also realized that rekindling the relationship would only lead to more pain, more hurt that neither of you could bear.

As you stood by the window, the first light of dawn was beginning to creep across the sky, painting the world in soft hues of pink and gold. The sight was starkly beautiful, a contrast to the turmoil that had been raging inside you. This was what life should be like, you think. You shouldn’t settle for less. You shouldn’t settle for hurt.

Outside, you could see him—still there, lingering near your door, his figure slumped against the wall. He had a cigarette against the burrow of his lips, smoke filling his face. The remnants of a wild night clung to him; he was drunk and high, his posture wavering as he waited for you. The sight of him, lost and desperate, broke your heart in a way that felt both familiar and foreign.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of your decision settle heavily upon you. You knew that as much as you loved him, returning to him now would only mean opening the door to a love that had become toxic, a love that had already left you shattered too many times.

“I can’t go through this again.” you whispered to yourself, your voice barely audible. The realization was painful, but clear. The cycle of breaking up and making up had drained you emotionally, leaving you with scars that were too deep to ignore. “Not again.”

As the sun continued to rise, its light growing stronger, you turned away from the window, feeling a sense of finality. The decision to end things was not made lightly, and the pain of walking away was immense. But you knew it was necessary for your own well-being, for the chance to heal and find a path forward that wasn’t mired in the constant heartbreak that your relationship had become.

You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts as you reached for your phone. With a heavy heart, you composed a message, knowing it was the last thing you needed to say to him. Your fingers hovered over the screen, the weight of your decision pressing down on you as you typed:

"Sukuna, this is the last time I’m reaching out. I can see you waiting outside, and I need you to understand that this is over. I love you, but we’ve reached a point where continuing this relationship will only lead to more hurt. The cycle of breaking up and making up has left us both wounded, and I can’t keep going through it. I need to move on and find healing for myself. Please respect my decision and let this be the end. I wish you well, but I can’t be with you anymore. Goodbye."

You stared at the message for a moment, feeling a mix of sadness and relief. With a final press of the send button, you put your phone down and took a deep breath. It was done. The words were out there, and now it was time to let go and start the process of healing. You took a deep sigh and pursed your lips into a flat line.

As the first rays of sunlight began to illuminate the room, you felt a glimmer of hope amidst the sadness. The end of this chapter was painful, but it was also a step towards a future where you could rebuild, where you could heal. It was a chance to find peace and to rediscover yourself, away from the shadows of a love that had become more damaging than fulfilling.

With a final, lingering glance at the window, you steeled yourself for the difficult road ahead. The love you had for Ryomen Sukuna was real, but the decision to move forward was the right one. As the sun rose higher in the sky, you began to prepare for a new day, one that would be marked by both the pain of goodbye and the promise of new beginnings. You hope the best for him, as much as you hoped the best for you.

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girlycocksleeve · 9 months

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Description: A man turns a cuntboy into his perfect girlfriend

Tags: coerced detransition, abuse kink, misgendering kink, transphobia, rape

He met her through mutual friends. The moment he first saw her at the house party, it was obvious to him that she was a fakeboy, her binder not able to hide her tits, which must have at least been C cups judging by the curve of her shirt. She had a lower voice, although distinctly feminine, so he guessed she must’ve been on HRT.

They had exchanged numbers and talked for a couple weeks. He was older than her, 33 compared to her 22, and she had just moved to the city.

When he asked her out she was ecstatic, and they quickly planned a first date, then a second, then a third. He took her to a bar and got her drunk before taking her back to his place, pushing her up against the door and kissing her. She slurred out that she didn’t take her binder off for sex, and that she was anal only. He respected that the first time, fucking her ass would be good enough for now. She had protested at how big he was, had begged him to go slower but he just whispered “You feel too good baby, I can’t help it” and fucked her harder.

Once he was done she lay there dazed for a minute, cum leaking out of her ass, before starting and saying she needed to go home. He convinced her to stay the night, citing the lateness and her lack of sobriety, and then helped her out of her binder. He made sure not to ogle her tits, definitely bigger than a C cup, until she was asleep. At that point he was free to take pictures and videos, even parting her labia to play with her enlarged clit, sticking two fingers into her virgin pussy while she moaned.

She woke up hungover the next morning and he was there with crackers and water and ibuprofen, all gentle and sweet. She didn’t really remember the night before, but assumed her aching ass was because of him, which just turned her on. Before she left she asked to ride him. He expressed doubt, saying that she was too hungover, that she needed to rest, and she just begged, giving him a blowjob to try to convince him. It worked, and soon enough she was bouncing on his dick, tits bouncing as she hadn’t even thought to put on her binder. She left mid morning with a plug in her ass and her cunt dripping.

Before long she was opening up to him about her kinks. She wanted him to be rough with her, degrading and humiliating her. He acquiesced, making sure she knew the safeword by heart, and telling her to use it liberally.

He started to isolate her, making plans when he knew she was trying to see other friends. Driving wedges in between them, making scenes go on too long so that she would miss appointments.

One weekend he kept her denied, only letting her blow him without being allowed to touch her ass. He fed her aphrodisiacs and kept her watching porn so that her cunt stayed wet. After a couple days she was begging him to fuck her, saying she would do anything he wanted. He gave her two options: either he would fuck her ass without lube, or he would fuck her pussy. She hesitated before saying ass, crying out when the head breached her and immediately asked him to fuck her pussy.

“I don’t know, you asked for this.” He sunk another half an inch deep. The friction almost hurt with how tight she was.

“No, no, please, daddy. Please fuck my virgin pussy please I need your cock in my cunt.” He smiled as he drew back and pushed into her virgin hole. Tight and wet and he was immediately fucking rough into her, not giving her a second to adjust. She just moaned, breath catching on every thrust. He wondered if she was on birth control, but ultimately decided it didn’t matter as he came in her.

He made her clean her juices and cum off his dick before letting her cockwarm him for the rest of the day, fucking back into her pussy whenever he got hard. Eventually she came from it, clenching around him beautifully.

It was a few more weeks before he made another move. She was basically spending all her free time with him, and he had taught her that the minute she entered his apartment all of her clothes came off. That day he had her chained up, arms above her head while she was on her tippy toes. Nipple suckers had been on her tits for a good half an hour while he had flogged her ass, making her thank him for each one as her skin progressively grew more bruised. When he took the suckers off he immediately replaced them with clamps, and she instinctively shouted “No!”

She froze up, knowing that she wasn’t allowed to say that, and he tutted, yanking on the chain between the clamps so that she cried out. He then left the room, going to the atrium where her clothes were, grabbing her binder and scissors.

“This body is mine, understand?” He growled the words while yanking on the chain again, harder this time.

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir. Please, daddy.” She was sobbing, either from pain or fear of punishment he didn’t know.

He held up her binder, made sure she knew what he was doing as he took the scissors to it. “If I ever see you wearing one of these again, I’ll whip your tits until they’re so swollen you won’t even be able to put one on.”

She just whimpered, “Thank you, sir.”

He fucked into her pussy afterwards, and she came when he told her what a good girl she was.

#detrans kink #detransition kink #ftm detrans kink #misgender kink #detrans me #fakeboy #forced detrans #misgenderingkink #detransitionkink #ftm misgendering #my writing 💖

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rogerswifesblog · 2 years

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Getting to know you

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: During one of Starks famous party’s you and Steve…get to know each other better.

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Steve Rogers x Reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: alcohol, drinking game [ truth or dare], smut, technically dub-con since both of them are drunk, dirty talk, slight Captain kink, fingering, oral ( F ), unprotected sex (don’t be silly wrap your willy ), hangovers

Please let me know if I need to add something.

It’s my first English smut one-shot. I hope you’ll like it, let me know!<3

Please be aware, English is not my first language, I can’t guarantee there are no mistakes.

!18+!

A horrible headache woke you up. Your head felt like it was about to explode. Growling, You buried your face in your pillow.

It smelled so nice...

Somehow better and different than usual?

It smelled like....man?!

Startled, You opened your eyes and looked directly into the sleeping face of none other than Captain America himself.

You drew your breath sharply in.

Then it occurred to you-did the two of you-? You quickly looked under the covers-You were naked. Oh holy....

How did this happen? You were barely talking the last few months and suddenly You wake up in his bed?

Stupid alcohol.

Yesterday there was a party that Stark had organized. Normally You didn't go to these, but yesterday You had decided otherwise.

For years You were a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and now also an Avenger. Well, technically only for a month, but still. At this party You wanted to meet the Avengers, get to know them more-but waking up with Captain America was not on your mind, when You said You wanted to get to know them.

Slowly, You turned on your back and tried to recall last night, even though it would probably make your headache worse.

•••

Nervously You entered the room. The party had been going on for at least two hours.

It's a funny habit of you to show up later at parties; many people were already drunk and it wasn't so tense anymore. So it was better to be a bit late.

"Hi, you look great," Natasha said as she came up to you. You had been friends for a really long time-if she hadn't talked you into coming here today, You wouldn't have come. "Thanks, so do you, Natasha." You gave her a friendly smile, even though it was slightly forced and probably looked like you were stressed.

You latched onto her arm and walked with her to the bar. It would be easier after a few shots.

"Tequila?", asked the redhead. "You know damn well that never ends well," You laughed out, after which You nodded anyway. You were right. It had not been a good idea to choose tequila.

Suddenly the loud laughter of Thor interrupted our conversation- Thor was nice and You liked spending time with him. When You looked at him, You realized that he was certainly drunk. The alcohol he always brought with him was really strong. At least that's what Natasha told you. It was apparently something for gods. You never really attended these kind of Stark-Party’s before, so it was the first time you could really see it.

Now You saw it with your own eyes. This alcohol was definitely stronger than anything for a normal human.

"Just look at those idiots. Finally I won't be the only woman on this team," Natasha laughed next to you . Grinning, you shook your head slightly. "This is going to be an interesting evening," You mused as You looked around at the guests-well, your gaze lingered on Steve.

You had to admit that You liked him for some time now. That's also why You kind of avoided him as much as possible. Whenever you got into a conversation, You started stuttering, blushing, and- in short, making a fool out of yourself.

It was just embarrassing.

"Lady Y/N! Come join us!", Thor snapped you out of your thoughts. Quickly you finished your glass, refilled it, and joined the others. Natasha was already sitting there drinking a beer. Since when did she had a beer? You sat down next to Natasha, she winked cheekily at you. Immediately your lips twitched upwards. Tonight would be a great evening. You were sure of it.

An hour later, some people had already left; Bruce wasn't feeling well and decided to go to bed, Clint was so drunk that he had also gone to his room. Maria already went home-as had many others. You didn't feel too sober anymore either. This was certainly noticed by the others; You laughed more, louder, spoke more openly, joked...And you also flirted. You werde definitely drunk. But I felt really good. Kind of made you more confident.

"You know what-now would be a game pretty funny-like truth or dare," Tony spoke to himself. Or us. You couldn’t really tell, since he was looking at the ceiling. "Kind of like how it used to be during the school days...lots of drinking, gambling, beautiful women," he continued to speak with a glance at Natasha and you. Your cheeks turned slightly red, which is why You lowered your head.

You felt someone sit down next to you. Automatically you looked up-just to meet Steve’s beautiful blue eyes. “Hello Captain”, you said with a slight smirk. The soldier smiled and leaned a bit closer to you. You could feel your heart beat faster. “Don’t listen to Tony. He’s completely drunk…even though he’s definitely right. Beautiful women. You look great, Y/N”, said the solider with a bright smile. This compliment made your cheeks redden.

At some point, you all did start playing the stupid kids game. But you did it a little differently-with an app, since neither of you would be creative enough to come up with good tasks. So we ended up with Tony having to pour a drink into his pants, Thor having to tell us when he last had sex, Natasha having to drink two shots, and so on.

"Y/N, this next one is to you-truth or dare?" read Tony, barely comprehensible. "Dare." Your drunken self certainly wasn't scared and shy anymore.

"Well, sit down onto the lap of the person on your left." You looked at Steve, puzzled, since he was on your left. For a moment he just closed his eyes and sighed. He knew he wouldn’t live this one down-Tony would probably make fun of him for weeks. “Yes, it’s fine. Come here”, said Steve with a friendly smile.

Slowly You sat down on his lap. Briefly, you slid around a bit to find a comfortable position-just then he grabbed your hips and squeezed them slightly. You could feel how you clenched around nothing. "You better stop that, sweetheart. I'm very….sensitive..." grumbled Steve in your ear, which made you hold your breath for a second. No one but you could hear this. And it made your heart jump.

With red cheeks, You looked at him for a moment. Without saying anything, You nodded quickly and remained sitting quietly and without moving much more.

"Ah how wonderful, Capsicle. This is probably the only time you'll ever get this close to such a beautiful woman," Tony slurred, causing Steve to sigh in annoyance. That’s exactly what he imagined would happen.

You in return merely chuckled and leaned into his chest a bit. Steve kept his hands on my hips. He gently stroked them with his fingertips. Sometimes you could swear he also squeezed them.

Pretty soon after that Thor fell asleep on the sofa-Natasha was gone after she said she was going to get a drink and never coming back-probably she also went to sleep-Tony was taken away by Pepper and so everyone slowly walked to their rooms.

It was just Steve and you left.

Your head was in the crook of his neck while his hand had slipped from my hip to my thigh. He stroked it gently. You felt bad for having so many different and definitely not innocent thoughts about how this situation could turn out. One thing was clear-it was driving you crazy. You felt everything inside you tingling-but especially between your legs.

"We should get going...", You heard Steve's husky voice against your ear. Immediately you got goosebumps. It felt nice to have him so close to you.

"Mhmm....It's so comfortable though...", You whispered chuckling quietly, lifting your head a little so You could look at him.

Steve's look was different. Darker.

The two of you stayed that close for some time. Eyes closed, just cuddling. "Or we could have another drink....," Steve murmured, which made you grin. You nodded immediately and turned slightly in his lap so you could grab your glass from the table.

As You slid back Steve made a noise that resembled a moan. "Oh sorry if I hurt you," You apologized and looked up at him. He didn't look like he was hurting though. Rather the opposite. Like he…enjoyed whatever just happened.

"It's okay, it's okay." He quickly grabbed the drink and took several big gulps of it. The smell of it was so strong that just the thought of drinking it disgusted me, but I knew that only this alcohols had an effect on him.

You also drank a few big gulps of your drink. You hesitated briefly before You changed your position, so you could wrap your legs around him-torso to torso. His one hand slid from your hip to your waist-the other remained on your thigh. His thumb kept stroking your bare skin. Again and again over the inner side of your thigh. This touching was driving you crazy. You could feel how you clenched around nothing. You slowly slid a little closer to him. Apparently he was feeling the same thing, because there was a hard bulge in his pants.

"Steve...", You breathed out. "Hmmm," Steve pulled you a little closer. Teasingly You bit your lower lip and stroked with your hand along his chest. "Ah fuck it." With those words, You grabbed his shirt and pulled him against you. Without a second thought you presst your lips to his. Yet you pulled away quickly. It made Steve whine quietly.

"Sorry I-" Immediately You were interrupted by Steve lips on yours-he kissed you. Steve Rogers was kissing you…and he was a Great kisser. He slipped his tongue in my mouth, what caused me to moan faintly.

Within a few minutes the kisses became more demanding and passionate. It started to because more teeth and tongue. Your whole body felt on fire. A soft gasp escaped your lips, when Steve's hand slowly stroked under your dress and stopped at your underwear. Teasingly he stroked over your slip. Your slip was wet, which made Steve grin. His thumb slid over your sensitive bud. A surprised gasp escaped your lips, when you felt him massaging your clit-before it disappeared. But just for a moment. In the next second you could feel his hand sliding under your slip. Again he started to rub your sensitive parts. You gasped-which sounded more like moan, losing yourself in his touch.

Slowly, Steve bent over you so that you were lying on the couch; him above you, between your legs. This position caused your dress to slide up higher, which made Steve look at your underwear. Thank god you actually thought about putting on something sexy-even if it wasn’t your plan to get laid tonight. You were not complaining. His hand slid out from your slip, just so he could grab your ass. Captain America must have had a weakness for-

A low moan interrupted your thoughts when Steve pressed his hips against your. Grinding against you. Fuck, I really needed him. Inside me.

"S-Steve...", You whimpered softly against his lips. Immediately, he pulled away and looked at you. He was totally out of breath. You let your gaze linger on his face.

He looked so beautiful.

Disheveled hair, reddened and somewhat swollen lips from kissing, pupils wide. His shirt was by now partially unbuttoned and pulled out of his pants. Your lipstick on his lips and neck smeared.

"If you want us to stop, I can stop, we don’t have to-," You quickly interrupted him by pressing your lips to his. The kiss did not last too long, because You quickly started kissing his neck afterwards.

Again You felt him roll his hips slightly against you, making both of you gasp.

You ran one hand over his crotch and rubbed his dick over his pants, causing him to moan softly. Teasingly you let your hand slid over his waistband and again to his dick-still over his pants. God you really wanted to have this dick in you. He felt big. Like really big.

"Steve...we can't do it here," You breathed as his hand slowly slid to again your crotch-exactly where you wanted it. Yet, you stopped his hand, staying in the living room was too risky; someone might catch you-plus Thor was asleep on one of the couches. So you definitely didn't want to continue here with him in the same room.

Slowly, Steve nodded. "Yeah...yeah, you're right," he mumbled, putting his arms around you, so he could carry you. He stood up-automatically You wrapped my legs around him, pressing yourself tightly against him. Again your lips met in a passionate and demanding kiss.

On the way to the elevator you bumped into a few things; the dresser, on which a vase stood-well, not anymore-, the armchair. Steve stumbled over the carpet, which made you giggle softly. He couldn't hold back his grin either, but you made it into the elevator unharmed. Somehow.

Immediately he pushed you against the wall. His body trapped yous between him and the wall. You felt so small in contrast to him. He was so…big. So much bigger than you. His biceps was probably the size of your head.

He frantically pressed the button of the floor on which his room was, which made you grin again. "That impatient, Captain?", You breathed cheekily in his ear. Gently, You nibbled at his earlobe, which made him growl with pleasure. A moan escaped his lips.

You could listen to that sound every day.

His hand finally slid to the place where You wanted him the most. When he stroked over your panties along You could not hold back the quiet whimper anymore. You couldn’t any longer. Steve teased your sensitive bud with a few strokes, before he took his hand away-again. "Already so wet...all for me. And your tellin’ me I'm the impatient one," the Captain teased you. Your cheeks turned red. He was right, You were impatient. You couldnt wait to feel him stretch you out. Feel his dick fill your tight pussy.

"That's what I like about you..." he suddenly whispered, gently stroking your cheekbone with his nose. On this he gave you a gentle kiss.

Before You could answer, the elevator door opened. Again Steve grabbed you a little tighter in his arms and walked towards his room. He pressed his lips to your neck, kissing it. Automatically your body pressed against his lips while your hands tampered with his shirt.

As soon as you entered his room, he laid you down on the bed. On the way to the bed he had already lost his shoes somewhere in the room. Your heels had also fallen off at some point. Steve slowly pulled up your dress, your hands roamed over his massive arm. Wow, you were right, his biceps were huge. For a moment you thought about it if you could ask him to choke you with these. His shirt quickly found its place on the floor. It was the first time You saw him without a shirt-damn, and he looked really good. Better than that. He resembled a Greek god more than a normal human being.

You moaned softly as he kissed a sensitive spot on your neck and sucked on it very gently. These open, passionate kisses drove you crazy. You wondered what else he could do with his mouth....

While Steve took off your dress, You sat up a little to make it easier for him.

Your hands were working on his belt in the meantime - You opened it very quickly. Also the button and zipper of his pants. Steve was hard. You could already see the huge bulge.

When You laid down again, Steve pushed your legs a little further apart so he could lie between them. Oh thank god, it’s happening. His kisses traveled from your neck to your cleavage and over my breasts, which were clad only in thin fabric. With his thumb he teased one of your hard nipples. "I'll buy you a new one, I promise," Steve spoke quickly against your skin. Confused, You were about to ask him what he meant when he suddenly gripped the bra tightly in one hand and ripped it off your body. Startled, You drew in your breath sharply, a moan escaping your lips at the same time. You immediately felt your heartbeat quicken and felt a throbbing between your legs- did this really turned you on so much?

You felt Steve grin against your chest. He didn't say anything, but You knew for sure that he had noticed how this affected you.

As he kissed your body, You buried one of your hands in his hair, which was already completely disheveled either way.

When his lips reached your abdomen, he looked up at you briefly. In his gaze You recognized the same thing You had just seen. You nodded slightly and in the very next moment he grabbed the hem of your panties and ripped them off your hips. Fuck. Once again you felt your pussy clench.

The cool air hit your throbbing pussy and made you gasp in surprise. With that you heard a rough laugh from Steve. "Steve please...", You whispered. "What exactly?" he breathed back teasingly. "Please touch me. I can't take it anymore," You whimpered, to which he immediately responded. He buried his head between your legs and put his lips around your sensitive clit. You sighed in pleasure while he let his tongue glide over your pussy.

His tongue slid between your folds and back to your clit. He let a moan out while he buried his tongue once again between your folds and licked into you. The taste of you made him want more. He could stay here forever. Between your legs just eating you out. “Fuck Steve-“, You moaned when you felt him suck at your bud.

You couldn’t think about anything else anymore. It was just him. And what he was doing. You wanted more from him. You wanted him to fill you. "Please...Captain...", You moaned as he let one of his fingers slid into you. "Patience, love..."

Without looking at him You felt his grin against your skin.

This was how he continued to tease you. With the stimulation on your sensitive bud and the way he kept hitting that special spot with his finger that You could never find, You felt getting closer to your orgasm. Your body began to tremble-but just then he stopped his movements. "Don't stop," You immediately whined. "Please don't stop, Captain..." how could he do that?! You had been so, so close.

"Shsh not yet, in a minute," he breathed against your pussy, making you wince slightly. Slowly-really slowly-he added a second finger, making you moan with pleasure. "You're so tight...I want to feel you so bad" "I'm not stopping you from that," You quipped, for which You received a light slap on my thigh. Surprised , You gripped his hair tighter and gasped. It actually was nice. The slight sting on your skin made everything more pleasurable.

When he started licking and suckling on your clit and sped up his hand movement, a breathless moan escaped your lips. "Oh God please, Steve...Ca-captain-don't stop," You tried to say at least one sensible sentence as You felt your orgasm washing over you. It happened so quickly You didn’t had time to tell Him you were close. Steve gasped softly as your walls tightened pulsatingly around his fingers. He moved his fingers and sucked on your clit, not stopping your first orgasm, making you tremble even more. This made your orgasm even better. Even though you couldn’t really keep still. It was just…so much.

Then he came up to you again. A hungry look in his eyes.

Immediately You pulled him into an open mouth kiss. You could taste yourself on his lips. It made you moan in the kiss. "Steve," his name escaped you softly as he took his fingers out of you. "Open Your pretty mouth", he just murmured as he held his fingers to your lips. Without hesitation, You opened your mouth for him and he slipped his massive fingers between your lips.

You moaned while you started to suck at his fingers, like you would do to his cock. This made Steve bit his lower lip. “Fuck sweetheart. You have no idea how much I want to feel that mouth on my cock. Such a pretty thing”, he whispered. You didn’t expected him to have such a filthy mouth. It was really surprising-and Steve seemed to notice this, because he started to grin slightly. “There's a lot about me you don't know…not yet" he breathed against your ear, which made your heartbeat quicken.

Steve widened your legs even more by laying down between them. He kept his fingers in your mouth, which at least muffled your moans as he let his top slid between my folds. You were sure it wouldn’t fit-he looked massive compared to your tight hole-and Yet he slowly started to push in. Inch by inch. He stretched you so much, it burned slightly. But it was a good burn. He was the biggest You ever had. He also probably ruined all other men for you.

Damn, he was really big... You closed your eyes in pleasure, when felt him slide over your spot. Just then steve took his hand from your mouth and gripped your jaw, causing You to open your eyes again. "That's a good girl...I want you to look at me when I fuck you," he growled against your lips. "Yes, Captain," You whispered. When he started to move, You gasped. He hit every spot in you, that you could think of. It was hard to keep your eyes open, but You tried.

But as his thrusts got harder it happened again. You closed your eyes-for which he slapped your thigh. A loud moan escaped your lips. You’ve never felt so good. Steve knew how to make you crazy. His cock was hitting your G-spot with every thrust. You couldn’t keep your eyes open.

This happened a few times and as You kept closing your eyes, he slapped your thighs. Every time his flat hand landet on your skin, he could feel you tighten around him. It made him do it harder. He knew you were close. Very close. He could feel you squeeze him. It made him pound in your harder. Hard enough that the headboard started to hit the wall.

"Ste-Cap-Captain-I," before You could finish speaking your next orgasm overtook you-more intense than the first one. Your whole body shook violently while you cried out in pleasure. You could feel your juices gush out around Steve cock. The sound your body’s made were straight out of a porno. Steve moaned into the crook of your neck as he felt you squeezing him so much, he nearly couldn’t move. "You feel so good...shit. So tight. You were made for me, baby”, he mumbled while his thrusts became even harder. You would definitely feel him for days.

Once again Steve started to rub on your clit. It was painful and pleasurable-you didn’t know which one more. Even though you didn’t know it was possible, you could tell you’d come again. But you wanted Steve to come too. In you. You wanted feeling him fill you with his warm cum.

"Cum for me, Captain. Please-fill me," You moaned into his ear, which made him burry his head in the crook of your neck. His hand motion sped up. As soon as your climax hit you, you screamed out in pleasure. Everything in you tensed up. All your muscles. Never in your whole life have you had an orgasm like that. Moaning you bit lightly steves shoulder. Steve felt his balls tighten. He was close. Within a few more thrust his orgasm overcome him. He buried himself as deep in you as possible. You could feel him filling you with his seed, painting your walls with his warm cum. It made you moan once again. Your walls continued to squeeze around him, milking him.

Slowly and also very gently he let himself fall on top of you. His head was in the crook of your neck as he gently wrapped his arms around you. "Please stay like this...", You whispered barely audibly as You wrapped your arms and legst around him in. “Yeah, okay”, he whispered against your skin. You were both exhausted.

Silence. A comfortable silence. Just your heavy breathing.

Your legs were still trembling, so Steve gently started stroking them. He reached for tissues that were on his nightstand. That movement alone made you whimper. Everything in you was overstimulated.

Carefully he pulled out, wiping the seed away, that came out after he moved. "It’s so much" You mumbled as You felt it once again float out, which made him laugh barely audibly, as he wiped his seed of from my skin. His cheeks were slightly flushed and he looked...embarrassed. There was the golden boy again.

Steve laid down next to You and covered you both with a blanked. Immediately, You began to smile ever so slightly. You were tired. Exhausted even. You had a hard time keeping your eyes open. "Good night, love," Steve whispered as he put his arms around You and placed a kiss on the top of your head. "Night," You grumbled before falling asleep.

•••

Steve's growl snapped you out of your thoughts. Immediately You looked at him-he was awake. He ran his hand over his temple as he slowly rolled over onto his back. He still had his eyes closed, so he didn't notice you. You weren’t sure if he remembered yesterday. Immediately You started to feel bad. What if he regretted it?

When You turned on your side, his head immediately snapped to you. Surprised and also very sleepy. How cute he looked like that. Immediately his cheeks turned a little red as he smiled shyly. "Hey...", he whispered. "Good morning, Steve," You breathed softly as heat shot up to your cheeks as well. "Slept well?" At your question, he nodded slowly and turned to the side to face you. Carefully, he placed his hand over mine. He squeezed a little. You could tell her was nervous. “Do you…remember?”, he asked. You nodded, without saying anything. “Okay, good…I do too…do you…do you regret the night?”, this time you shook your head. Steve smiled immediately-this made you smile too.

"This is weird now but...would you like to have dinner with me sometime? Just the two of us...I should have asked you that before-before" He gestured with his hand between the two of you. "-but I hope you’d still go out with me? Like…a date?", Steve spoke a bit flustered.

“Yes, Steve, I’d love to.”

That’s it! I really hope you enjoyed reading! Please let me know:)

You can tell me if something is wrong or what i should change<3 I’d be glad actually.

It’s the first time i wrote something in English so I’m pretty sure it’s not the best. I would love to improve my writing 🥰

#steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #mcu #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n

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blingblong55 · 1 year

Text

Moments like this- 141+ König

GN!Reader, fluff, romantic! Relationship, civilian! reader

Based on a request: Do you think you could write some hcs (for 141 guys and konig ofc hes my fav<3) where the reader has really long hair?.Just for some inspo: I'm thinking ghosts love language entails him helping brush, wash, care for his s/o hair. And Johnny and konig love playing with their s/o hair, braiding it, learning how to do hairstyles etc...thank you🩷💖

A/N: as soon as I read the request, I thought of Rapunzel when in tangled she gets her hair done by the little girls lol

Price:

This man grew up with only brothers, but he was more of the kinder one, so when it came to you and your long hair, he watched tutorials on how to braid and care for hair.

It was new to him, he hadn't done this, like ever.

But, when he came home after a long and stressful day, he would go to you. Who was already in the couch waiting for him.

He couldn't talk, it was as if his voice had just given out. So what does he do? starts running his fingers through your hair.

Which calms both of you, he someway, somehow fell asleep. And it was definitely the best he's had so far.

So, this become a thing, you dont ask questions and neither does he.

All you do is wait by the couch or in bed and he drops everything and combs through your hair, slowly drifting into sleep.

I like to think he asks Kate and her wife on how to do a pony tail, and although he tries, he gets so frustrated, he ends up giving up.

Gaz:

I whole heartedly believe he grew up with sisters, with that said, he knows how to braid your hair.

I am talking a master at braids, when he isn't in the mood for too much, he brushes your hair, and when he just needs to relax in a warm bath, he drags you in and washes your hair.

There was one time where you were sick, and he knows that if you stay in bed for longer, you won't feel better, so...he washes your hair, putting all the right products in, massaging your scalp and overall being such husband material.

Lots of kisses for sure, he makes sure you get at least 10 kisses per day. And as he brushes your hair, he kisses your forehead.

He even asks his sisters what kind of oils he can use on your hair type to help it grow healthy and strong.

At times when he does come home super late and he is very tired, all he does is crawl into bed and cuddle you, but best believe he is brushing your hair slowly and delicately.

Like Price, it soothes him to brush your hair, makes him sleepy and all. Thats why when he cant sleep, he brushes your hair with his hands.

Soap:

This man also grew up in an all women household and I will not be told otherwise. So, when you and him start dating, and you let your hair down more often, he likes to sits down by the porch and to braids on you.

One time, mainly because his niece made him watch Tangled, he places flowers on your freshly done braid. He even took pictures of you, and best believe that picture is now carried everywhere he goes. I am talking wallet, vest pocket, phone wallpaper, and has drawn it on a lot of sketch books.

He also loves messing with you, and because you trust him so much with your hair, he gives you a literal unicorn horn, which makes you two cry so hard from laughing.

He also drew that in a sketch book. When his nieces are around, he brags on his skills. And to demonstrate he is good at doing hair, he makes you sit on a pillow on the floor as he does your hair.

Messy buns are a no at times, because he loves to see you in his hair dos.

There was one time where you were so drunk but it was the same day you had to wash your hair that he did it for you. There was a mess everywhere, but he did the job and there is definitely no complaining.

Ghost:

This man is awkward and sometimes weirded out by physical touch, so to make you feel better he started to follow influencers that taught him about the importance of hair care.

He tries so hard at times, but it's the intention that matters. One night, while you were sad, brushed your hair and hummed a tune.

And slowly he realizes this could be his way of showing his affection towards you, so he does it everyday now.

When you wake up, there he is , waiting to comb your hair. At night after a shower, he is waiting by the bed to comb your hair and listen to what you did all day.

After deployments when he comes tired, he lays on the couch and you lay on top of him, he, like price and gaz, falls asleep as he combs through your hair.

Your hair at times is untamable, which bothers him, but it teaches him patience, so he goes for the long run and slowly but surely does your hair justice.

At times when you two, have rough sex, he gets mad at himself for making your hair a mess. But not to worry, that one of his ways of aftercare is to comb your hair.

König:

We all know this man is a gentle giant, it's a fact at this point. Anyways, his love language is physical contact, so when there are days you don't feel like hugging or just being touched in the slightest by him (rarely happens im sure) he combs your hair.

I also like to believe he is the only child, so like the golden retriever energy kind of man he is, he adores when he can do other activities with you, like your hair.

Before him, it was a mess, you'd wake up, comb it and give yourself split ends and now, it's so smooth and nice and puffy, it's just so perfect.

I know for sure at night when he can't sleep he is watching YouTube tutorials for different kinds of hairstyles.

One time he ran out of hair gel because for a whole week all he did was try weird and definitely funny hair do's.

Best believe like Ghost, after a night of fun, his form of aftercare includes him coming your hair.

He reads on how braiding your hair can help it grow, so, everynight since he braids your hair and makes sure it's not pulling your hair, just so you can get a nights rest.

If you use a bonnet, this man will literally learn why that is and also ask around with his female comrades.

A/N: I did this in such rush, so if I did get a few wordings wrong...sorry not sorry..

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

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waste-lit · 3 months

Text

First kiss

A four top gang post inspired by @aftermidnightspecial

The predawn hours were settling over the Glass Eye Tavern, and even the most vigilant of the late night pub crawlers were beginning to close their tabs. Old Glass Eye never called last call, and as far as anybody knew, he stood behind the bar 24 hours a day. No one could even recall the last time they’d seen him leave the bar to use the restroom. Any scuffles were handled by beefed up bouncers. Every day and night he stood sentry behind the bar.

At half past three the only two remaining patrons sat together at the back of the bar where the lighting was dim and one could talk without fear of being eavesdropped on. Amafray and Wiggins sat before a table crowded with empty ale glasses that had been arranged to form a spiral that circled around the center of the table. Amafray rested her head in her arms on a bare spot at the table, her brown hair falling so that it blocked one from viewing her face. Wiggins finished off his drink and sighed.

“Amafray, don’t fall asleep. I can’t carry you home.”

Amafray made a small grunting sound. Wiggins leaned towards her and poked her in the ribs. She grunted again in protest. He brushed her hair away so that he could see her face.

“Come on, I’ll take you home.” Wiggins smiled at Amafray. With her messy hair and sleepy drunk eyes she looked cute. He could feel a warm, twisting burn spread out his chest and something in his gut flipped. Before him she seemed so helpless. He knew he had to protect her.

He poked her in the ribs again and she slowly lifted her head to see him. Her eyes were watery and her skin was flushed. A small bit of drool had trickled out the corner of her mouth and down her chin.

“I’m coming,” she said, the edges of her words blurred into each other.

With Wiggins’ help, Amafray slid off the stool and into his supporting arms. She was uneasy on her feet and gripped his shoulders. His face loomed only inches from hers and if his face wasn’t already red from a night of drinking, it definitely was now. As they stepped towards the door the room swirled and the floor threatened to replace the ceiling. Wiggins steadied her. Amafray was beginning to regret getting into a drinking challenge, especially when she knew she was a lightweight. With Wiggins’ arms supporting her, she managed to stumble her way to the door and out into the night.

The air outside was chilly, despite it having been hot during the day, and both Amafray and Wiggins felt as though they could think a little more clearly. Amafray had dressed for the midday heat and now she shivered in the cold. She drew even closer to Wiggins for warmth. Without saying a word, he lifted his cloak and draped it so that it would cover both of them. Around them the streets were deserted, too late for the night owls and too early for the early birds. As they walked across town to Amafray’s apartment at the temple, they ran only into an opossum that feigned death when spotted along the edges of a street light.

When they reached the temple Amafray dug in her bag for her keys, found them at the bottom, and pulled them out. As she fumbled to find the right key, her fingers felt fuzzy and she dropped them onto the ground. Wiggins bent over and picked them up.

“It’s the one with the hand,” Amafray said.

Wiggins shifted through the absurd amount of keys and found the one with an open palm carved into the golden handle. He inserted it into the keyhole and the lock clicked. With a gentle push, he opened the door.

Inside the room it was dark and cool, the only light coming from the moon shining through the uncurtained window. The apartment was fairly modest, a bed, a dresser, a bookshelf that was crammed to overflowing with various texts. A desk and wooden chair sat in front of the window, piled with books and loose papers. There didn’t appear to be any kitchen items, meals were held in the communal dining area of the temple. A door led off to the side, and Wiggins assumed this was the bathroom. With Amafray leaning heavily on him, the two shuffled into the room.

Wiggins led Amafray to the bed and eased her down into it. She laid back and he could hear her breathing slow. Noticing that she was still wearing her boots, he untied the laces and slid them off her feet, placing them on the ground at the foot of the bed. He turned to the door and quietly went to leave.

“Don’t go.” Amafray’s voice was soft. The moonlight lit her silhouette and he could see that she was propped up on one elbow.

He went back to the bedside and she moved over so that there was room for him on the narrow mattress. He sat tentatively on the side. “Are you okay?”

“I just don’t want to be alone.” Amafray slipped her hand around his. “Will you lay with me, just for a little while?”

Nodding yes, Wiggins pulled off his own boots and laid down next to Amafray. In the quiet of the room, the only sound was that of their soft breathing. The bed was barely large enough for the both of them, designed to fit one human man. Amafray could feel the coolness of Wiggins’ skin against hers where their shoulders touched. She considered that he might be cold and pulled at the blanket that had been kicked to the side during last night’s sleep. She brought it up to their shoulders.

“Is this okay?” she asked as she settled back down next to Wiggins.

“Yeah, this is good.” Wiggins’ raspy voice was tinged with fatigue from the long day.

Amafray yawned and Wiggins could feel a puff of warm breath against his cheek. Orange light was seeping into the sky and lined her face with a golden glow.

Amafray snuggled closer and pushed her body against his, and he reflexively wrapped his arms around her. Her skin was soft against his rough hands. She leaned her forehead against his, and he could feel her breath against his lips. Their noses slid together as they leaned in and their lips brushed against each other’s. It was gentle and brief, and Wiggins was about to pull away when Amafray pressed her lips against his mouth, hard, and his stomach flipped. All of the air he breathed in smelt of her.

Amafray pulled back, her lips tingling and her body trembling. Her pulse throbbed throughout her entire body. Wiggins tasted like salt and stale beer, but she didn’t mind. She leaned in again, hungry for more.

The sun was leeching pink into the twilight as Amafray and Wiggins lay together in the cramped bed, their bodies now twisted together. Wiggins held Amafray close to him and she rested her head on his chest.

“Wiggins?”

“Yeah?”

“Will this be over when I wake up?” She sounded like a nervous child, and Wiggins couldn’t help but smile. He kissed her damp forehead.

“No, I don’t think so.”

Smiling, Amafray let the rhythm of Wiggins’ breathing lure her to sleep, and she knew that whatever had happened, and whatever was to come, she was glad for it.

#writers on tumblr #writeblr #writerscommunity #writing #creative writing #writing community #writblr #writers #writers of tumblr #the four top gang #fanfic

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adaines-furious-feast · 4 months

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Soooooooooo Arianwen/Jace first date? please?

Oooh, yes been thinking about this a lot (on that four hour bus journey I had yesterday).

So, it wasn’t supposed to be a date.

I imagine they met at some conference on teaching experimental magic bs that Jace 100% did not want to be at but someone from Aguefort had to go and he drew the short straw. And Arianwen has to give some presentation and she has the most charisma of anybody he’s ever seen from Hudol (read: any charisma) and, well, she’s not bad looking so he finds her at the hotel bar to have a little fun.

And Arianwen is sexually frustrated. I think it’s both a High Elven thing in that having a sex drive is much too much and not dignified in anyway, but also a “women shouldn’t want sex, but should just submit when it’s requested” kind of thing. She wants to fuck, but she knows that is so frowned upon.

Jace is not the first one night stand that Arianwen has had at this kind of thing. The guys she’s had have been at best a kind of four out of ten, which is still quadruple the amount that Angwyn is. Jace is on another scale. It’s from that conference that Arianwen learns a new definition of the phrase "practical caster".

But it’s just a one night stand and neither of them expect anything else to come from it. It does keep Arianwen entertained in the bath and when Angwyn is working late for months but it’s nothing.

Except it’s an itch that Arianwen just can’t scratch. So months later she Sendings Jace to suggest they get drinks in Bastion City. And Arianwen fully intends for this to be a single drink and then he’ll make a suggestion, they’ll go back to a hotel room and he’ll fuck her brains out and that itch will be scratched. Because she absolutely has him down as a fuck boy who is not going to get through 15 minutes before things start to go that way.

Jace on the other hand is very much hoping and aiming for the night to end in a hotel room, but he figures this is some intelligent and dignified Hudol professor so he’s at least going to have to go through the whole date night thing first. So he’s being polite and asking her about stuff and at one point he asks something like “oh if you could research anything what would it be” and oops, you just unlocked Arianwen Talks About Her Special Interest.

Arianwen does not get to do this often and will jump at the opportunity. Jace has never seen and adult this passionate about magic (about anything really) pretty much ever. And he just lets her talk because it’s infectious. He has no idea what she’s talking about after five minutes but she’s clearly so excited by it and he’s smitten.

By the time Arianwen realises she’s been let to go on about this for more than ten seconds, thirty minutes has passed.

So they’re drinking and talking and Arianwen isn’t drunk-drunk, but she is tipsy and giddy and ok, maybe she’s a little more drunk than she thought she was because she’s the one actually suggesting they go back to the hotel room she’s booked (which she would never do sober because it’s such an immature horny teenage thing for a woman to ask for sex).

Jace reads her as being way more drunk than she is though and he is not going to have sex with an inebriated woman (partially because of his mother) but he does take her back to her hotel room and leaves a note with his crystal number on it so she doesn’t have to waste spell energy if she wants to get in touch again.

They're a mess and I love them.

#so that's them #Arianwen finds someone who has the right issues to go with her issues #dimension 20 #fantasy high #someone's got to ship it

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atmilliways · 1 year

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Wrong On The Money (51)

part 51 of 55 | 1894 words | Teen+

Blackmail fic on Ao3 | on tumblr

Summary:

Robin can’t believe what she’s hearing. That Eddie, who knows a thing or two (hundred) about being treated like a freak, who’d fought with them in the trenches of saving the world from unknown horrors, would do something like that. To Steve.

You'll notice I have at least an estimate for the final chapter count now. I always love seeing notes like this on other fics, where the author is like "Okay I think it's just one more chapter guys" and you glance up to the fic info on the Ao3 page and there's definitely like, five more. We'll see how well my optimism ages.

Anyway, have some protective Robin rage from her POV!

51.

The phone rings late a few nights after Starcourt, jolting Robin out of an uneasy sleep. She shoots out of bed, racing for it before her parents wake up. She manages to get downstairs and down the hall in just a few more rings and snatch it up.

“Hello?” she whispers.

“Robin?”

Her hands clench on the plastic handset at the sound of Steve Harrington’s voice coming down the line. “Steve!? What’s wrong, are you okay? Did something happen?”

“‘M fine,” Steve rushes to assure her, stumbling over his words. “I’m fine. I just. . . . I’m calling to say I’m sorry. For dragging you into this shit, 's my fault because you were working with me, and Dustin can’t talk quiet worth a damn, and. . . . I’m so, so fucking sorry.”

Okay, not so much stumbling as slurring. Okay. Steve Harrington is calling her drunk in the middle of the night. Sure, that’s a relatively normal thing to happen after . . . everything.

“Have you been drinking?” Robin hisses. “You’re drinking with a head injury?”

“I’m, ‘m drinkin’ by myself,” Steve mumbles, and he sounds so young when he says it. She wants to crawl through the phone line and hold his hand.

“Where are your parents?”

There’s a long silence on the other end of the line, and then Steve says, “On a business trip.”

“Still? I thought you called them.”

“Yeah, they. . . . It’s an important trip. Meeting. Thing, I d’know.”

Robin chews on her bottom lip. On one hand, she barely knows Steve, really. She has no idea what his home life is like, but it doesn’t seem great that his parents know about his concussion, broken ribs, etc. but still didn't bother to come home and look after him. That’s what parents are supposed to do.

On the other, this is the guy who loudly drew the Russians’ attention so they took him for interrogation instead of her. And even if that was plain old sexism on the Russians' part, he’d still run his mouth even after being pummeled, insisting that she wouldn’t tell them anything. They’d almost pulled off his fingernails, for fuck’s sake.

“Steve,” Robin says firmly. “I can get to your place in fifteen minutes on my bike, okay? I’m gonna hang up and do that, and can you do me a favor while I do?”

“Of course Robs, anything,” Steve slurs easily, and goddammit. This dingus is going to end up being her best friend, isn’t he?

“Drink a glass of water for me while you’re waiting, okay?”

“Okay,” he replies. She can practically hear him nodding, which also can't be good for the already bruised brain knocking around in there.

She gets there in under ten, discarding her bike halfway up the driveway and darting up to the front door in case any of the neighbors are awake at this hour. It’s unlocked, and for a moment she’s frozen with terror at that fact—what if the Russians are back and they’ve tracked Steve down? What if they’re here?

But then she goes inside and finds Steve in the most bland foyer she’s ever seen, sitting on the carpeted stairs with his head in one hand and a half empty glass of water in the other. He looks up at her approach, eye and cheek and lip still swollen. It looks like he got chewed on and spit back out, and all she can think of is how small his voice had sounded over the phone.

Mr. Popular, Mr. Cool, cries on her shoulder while telling her how sorry he is again. He tells her about Nancy’s friend Barb and how she died in an alternate version of his pool because he’d thrown a stupid party. He tells her about bullshit and like we didn’t kill Barb and Nancy leaving him for Jonathan Byers until he’s hiccuping—

When he throws up on her shoes he apologizes for that too, and she womanhandles him upstairs to his room and the attached bathroom with her thoughts racing.

Steve Harrington used to be a total douchebag. She hadn’t been wrong about that. But this is a totally different Steve, stumbling and full of guilt and a hefty portion of his dad’s liquor cabinet. This is, actually, a lot like Steve on Russian truth drugs. (There’s even a bathroom this time too, Steve hunched over the toilet and Robin trying to keep his hair out of harm’s way.) This is the boy who doesn’t treat her like a freak for liking girls instead of guys. The only person she’s ever told her secret, and isn’t holding it over her head the way she’s always had nightmares about. (Her nightmares have plenty of new material to work with now, anyway.)

He’s all alone, and not taking very good care of himself when left to his own devices after a buttload of fresh trauma, from the looks of it. So.

Robin is going to be here for him as much as she needs. Not because she owes him or anything, but because this Steve deserves to have someone relentlessly in his corner. And since his parents seem to have abdicated that responsibility, that someone will just have to be her.

Robin can’t believe what she’s hearing.

That Eddie, who knows a thing or two (hundred) about being treated like a freak, who’d fought with them in the trenches of saving the world from unknown horrors, would do something like that. To Steve.

But there’s also Wayne Munson, who she knows now. Not as well as Steve, who looks more comfortable in this house than she’d ever seen him back in his parents’ place, but he’s a good person. A kind man, someone she can’t fault Steve for helping to save.

The two things don’t fit in her head, and she has to pace while trying to wrap her brain around it because otherwise she feels like she might explode.

“Okay,” she says, finally wheeling on him with a glare. “Okay. So you knowingly let some guy blackmail you, homophobically and hypocritically, because you thought he was hot and Dustin was sad?”

“Well—”

“And,” she interrupts shrilly, “you didn’t tell me. You hid not having enough money to eat—”

“I still ate,” Steve protests. “And I learned to make all those casseroles, you love those!”

Robin storms back over to the couch. There aren’t any decorative pillows like there had been at his parents house, because the Munsons don’t go in for that extra frills sort of shit. She snatches one of the cushions instead and thumps him on the head with it, making him drop his pizza in his lap.

“Aw shit, toppings side down. . . .”

“Steve,” she snaps.

He looks up, holding the rescued slice in his hand and licking a glob of red sauce he’d scraped off his jeans off his other thumb. “I didn’t tell you,” he agrees, voice heavy. “You would’ve tried to talk me out of it and I couldn’t just. . . . Not after Barb.”

“Just because Nancy said so doesn’t mean what happened to Barb was your fault, Steve,” Robin reminds him. She's about ready to throw the entire cushion at him in frustration because they’ve had so many talks about that now. Has none of it stuck?! “But guilt or not, that doesn’t make what Eddie did okay!”

“I know,” Steve says quickly. He’s got those big damn puppy dog eyes that all but bleed sincerity. “I know it’s not okay. And that it’s not my fault about Barb.” There’s pepperoni and veggies on his leg; he starts picking them up and putting them back on his pizza. “I didn’t know that if I’d done something different, she might not have died. But I knew that about this, okay? Eddie was working himself to death and it still wasn’t enough, and I knew I could help.”

The without getting the shit kicked out of me goes unspoken, but Robin knows his track record with that and can read between the lines. It’s almost definitely the easiest time he’s had saving a life since 1983.

But still.

"Blackmail isn't the cornerstone of a stable loving relationship, Steve!"

“I know.” Steve sighs, and goes to rake a hand through his hair before remembering just in time that it’s covered in pizza sauce and grease. “I know. . . . We’ve saved each other's lives though, Rob. And we’ve talked it all out, okay?”

She frowns, squeezing the couch cushion in frustration. “Not okay.”

“Come on. I know it was a shitty thing to do, and so does Eddie. You forgave me for years of being a douchebag, can’t you forgive him for this one thing?”

One thing. One thing, when said thing was threatening to out someone? Holding it against their throat, against Steve’s throat, like a broken bottle with actual intent to spill blood? How could she possibly, possibly not hold that against Eddie, when just the thought of it made her adrenaline spike and pulse race because being forcibly outed in Hawkins fucking Indiana is literally her own worst nightmare?!

Or, well. One of.

Steve is still giving her the damn puppy dog eyes. He looks so sad, whereas he’d looked so happy a moment ago, in a dumb, goofy, sappy way that she’d never quite seen from him about any of the parade of girls he’d gone out with since after Starcourt. It’s almost as though he thinks his epic quest to find The One (she can never help but crack a smile when she thinks of it as ‘finding his Suzie,’ and she’s upset right now, dammit, this is no time for grinning) has finally come to an end.

With Eddie Munson, who until ten minutes ago she would have said was a nerdy but perfect match for him.

And, okay. She doesn’t want to be the reason Steve looks sad. He’s old enough to make his own decisions, and if he seems happy with them then it’s not up to her to rip that happiness to shreds, even over perfectly reasonable concerns.

After a long moment Robin drops back into the couch next to him, clutching the cushion to her chest. “I still wish you’d told me. I would’ve shared my food with you. I would’ve known not to bum off of yours, and forced you to take gas money!”

“Robs, no,” Steve groans, then shoves a big bite of his messed up pizza slice in his mouth and keeps talking around it. “I told you a million times, I don’t want to be treated like a taxi driver.”

As if she doesn’t know for a fact that he threatens Dustin and the rest of the kids that he’s going to start charging for rides at least once a week. He’d explained to her once—after a night hanging out with Argyle and the rest of the older Hawkins crew, and everything had been hilarious at the time—that he doesn’t want the little shits to take it for granted and act as entitled as he used to.

Steve Harrington is too fucking good for his own good these days, even if he is a total dingus about it a lot of the time.

And she’ll deal with Eddie later. Right now she’s hanging out with her best friend, and that’s far more important than putting the fear of Robin into a skinny metalhead.

#steddie blackmail fic #steddie #steddie fic #robin pov #protective robin #robin buckley #platonic stobin #steve harrington #somewhere across town eddie is definitely freaking out

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desertfangs · 1 year

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DA here, I’m not kidding when I say I’ve read Dead Drunk at least 4 times now, and I still can’t get enough of it. The definition of a comfort fic 🥹 It’s just how I imagine their late/post canon dynamics to be: silly, sexy, bittersweet, easy. If anyone can get Armand out of the house and get him shitfaced in record time, it’s 100% Daniel. Loved how you drew parallels between drunk mortal Amadeo and drunk vampire Armand and how Daniel gets to see that in the blood, specially because the closest we ever get to see Amadeo again is when Armand is around Daniel, being a total dweeb, laughing and teasing and acting every bit of the 17 y/o he is. Also it was hot as hell 🥵 10/10 as usual, zero notes. Now onto the Lestat/Daniel one, I’m so excited!!!

DA!!! You read Dead Drunk 4 times?? I'm honestly so floored right now, that means so much! I've had such a long day at work and I cannot tell you how elated this message has made me! DAY FIXED.

I'm so glad you liked Drunk Armand, it made me so happy to write. He's so giggly and ridiculous and adorable and I love how much Daniel loves to see him like that because how rare is that? Even post-canon when I think they've had a lot of hard and heavy conversations and probably are connecting better than ever, Armand is still freaking Armand, and they still have some things to work through! And of course Daniel would take the opportunity to get them both as vampire shitfaced as possible. I'm sure when he proposed the idea, Armand was like... "All right, I suppose we can try it." And then 100% over did it because he really wanted to make it work and boy, did he! Even Daniel didn't commit that hard. So glad you liked the parallels to mortal Armand (they have so much common, I swear, if only Daniel had gotten to know those details sooner!)

specially because the closest we ever get to see Amadeo again is when Armand is around Daniel, being a total dweeb, laughing and teasing and acting every bit of the 17 y/o he is. Right?? Daniel totally brings out a more playful, reckless side of him. That's something I really love about them. Daniel is like.. with this fearsome vampire, former leader of this satanic cult and the Theatre Des Vampires, and even when Daniel is human they spend a lot of nights on the couch watching television arguing about Armand ordering from every single informercial that airs and having deep philosophical discussions about the nature of toothpaste tubes and the modern use of plastics. They're amazing together.

I'm also so glad you thought it was hot!! I was really worried because I think blood drinking is sexy as hell 🥵 but it can be hard to describe in way that makes it read that way, so I worked hard on that! Thank you again, DA, this has literally made my night, you don't even know! I hope you enjoy the Lestat/Daniel fic too whenever you get around to reading it. We're so blessed with so much great fic in this fandom right now. ✨✨ 😭😭 <~~Happy tears.

#dungeon anon #thank you again for the message really sincerely it's amazing to get these kinds of messages #and i'm always so happy to see you in my inbox!!#answers in the desert #daniel molloy #armand #armand/daniel

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errorthedumbone · 2 years

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Ok so changing Terrace’s bio sooo here ❤️

Name: Terrace Miller (he changed his last name from Afton to Miller so not many people know)

age: ??? (Looks late 30’s to early 40’s even tho he is like much much older)

height: 7’3

job: works at the Devil’s casino as the lead manager, dealer, (when being bribed) singer and comedian, and soul collector(rarely tho)

sexuality: Bisexual

relationship status: Divorced and taken by rover( >:) owner of rover is @memesweloveuwu2-0 )

death: shot by mother and springlocked

about: devil’s #2 aka his left hand man, adopted father to cuphead and Mugman, oldest child of the Aftons, is the “inner adult”of the soul(if confused go to Ace’s Bio),really good at cooking, singing and comedy. Alcoholic but rarely gets drunk, oddly very obedient, before he died he worked at playtime co., Bon’s Burgers, and Joey Drew’s studio, he made the long leg family and huggy wuggy, he was a night guard for Bon’s Burgers and he wrote songs for Joey’s studio.

powers: he can see in people’s past(can’t control it. It happens when he is upset, when he is heavily curious, or when he sees you lying), teleporting (rarely uses this) soul pulling( got this from T.T but it’s when he can pull your soul out of someone’s body and put it back in) T.T (Demon that was a “gift” from the devil but it’s mostly just strength, soul pulling, and allusion which is just making people see/ feel things that isn’t there he uses this a lot)

personality: d*ck at times, has a bit of a ego, is quiet and looks strict around people he doesn’t know or like but acts a bit different around his kids, friends, family, or loved one, will tease you about the dumbest things, dose doubt himself a lot, can be a greedy MF

likes: cooking, gambling, whiskey, being seen as a father figure(he will definitely tease you about it too) coffee, harmless pranks, drawing(when he has the time) board games, trying to make or do new things, dancing (no one knows that he can dance lol) writing songs

dislikes: liars, scammers, Sarah Afton(his mother), being in too much stress or seen as a failure, being ignored (he hates this and is around the only thing he is scared of), being touched when not asked, his ex wives(yes wives he has 3 ex’s they were or are crappy partners) him singing,

Sorry for grammar mistakes

ask about anything about him or my au if you have questions :] this should be his almost finished bio (going to add more stuff when I see it) but character design might change more and more lol

#Aftoncuppys #afton cups #aftoncups #au #cuphead ask blog #Character’s bio :}

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covingtonrp · 7 months

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CARIA KARATAN is looking for her EX HUSBAND. For more details and how to contact the player, read below.

Character Name: Caria Karatan

Connection Name: UTP! I didn’t name him in her bio so that this wouldn’t be restrictive.

Age Range: 30+

Type of Connection: Ex-husband

Suggested Faceclaims: Kendrick Sampson, Lewis Tan, Paul Mescal, Henry Golding, Drew Starkey

Details:

This character is 100% yours and your creation, you have all the freedom to go wherever your muse takes you when it comes to his personality and background. The only things that are set in stone for this connection is the fact that he’s her ex husband, they were married for just a year, and he swindled/hustled/stole her money from her. This is what is written in her bio about their marriage/connection:

After a night of playing cards in a back room in Dublin, Caria married a man she’d spent the night before with drinking and just having fun. It wasn’t love, it was just exhilaration. He was wild and adventurous and matched exactly with where she was in life at that point in time (on the rebound) and she was careless in not recognizing that he was just in it for the ride and whatever he could get out of the nuptials. And she didn’t recognize that he was milking her for all she was worth until it was too late; nearly a year into the marriage and waking up one morning with divorce papers and an empty bank account. Through the divorce he held his claims that he really did love her, even called her his soulmate, but that he just didn’t want to be married and tied to one woman. Either way, Caria got screwed and learned more lessons about life.

Their marriage didn’t take place out of love, they were drunk and riding a high of being out all night having fun. Caria did eventually fall very much in love with him and was hurt pretty bad over what he did and how the marriage ended. Especially with him telling her the way he felt through the process of the divorce. The connection will be angsty though that’s not all it will be. I’d really love to plot and muse it out, bounce ideas off each other and see where things take us. Why he’s come to Covington is completely up to you and what would work for your muse. He could very well be there for her or maybe he needs something or he could be in some kind of trouble. Again, we can definitely chat this out!

Contact the player at: @cariakaratan

#literate rp #mature rp #town rp #oc rp #active rp #tumblr rp #wc

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areallybadwriter · 2 years

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12/26

I write this from AZ where my dad’s side of the family lives, about to sleep. I was supposed to fly back home today but my flight, along with a thousand others, was cancelled and we scrambled to find accommodations. my dad flew back to where he lives tonight and i am flying out tomorrow.

arizona has been a lot of fun and its always really good to see this side of the family as i feel closer with them in terms of values and hobbies. we are a family full of artists so its very refreshing being able to talk about art with them and also there is a common disdain for some of my fathers actions or words that i feel comfortable relating to them on. its nice to hear that others also are disappointed by the way he acts sometimes. my 87 year old grandma is also out here, who lived a great life and passed a desire for art and aesthetics to the rest of us. i don't get to spend nearly enough time with her as we live thousands of miles away so its so nice to see her and talk with her. we spent a lot of time looking at old photos of her family and my late grandfathers family (dating back to the 1800s) so that was sooooo cool and ill cherish that forever. some of the names of ancestors were really cool too and if i ever did consider having kids (unlikely) i’d get my inspiration from the registries we have. i also gifted my grandma a book that i had handmade in my bookmaking/photography course so that we could use it as a shared notebook, sending it back and forth between us. she seemed to love it and already drew something for me to “respond” to so im very excited to start that. my dad thanked me for the way i treated her which surprised me as she is my grandmother who i highly value (a trait i think he could borrow). and because she, and the rest of the family, is out here in phoenix and not the midwest anymore, i would definitely consider moving out here if the circumstances worked out. the air and the sun and the landscape help clear my head (and my skin) and i don't feel the same worries and emotional coils i do in the cold, cloudy midwest. my cousin is also getting married in march out here to the sweetest boy ever and i couldn't be more excited for them. i also love weddings and i get to bring my best friend so i think it'll be lots of fun.

I am officially graduated from college which is crazy and it doesn't feel quite real yet. i didn't attend the graduation ceremony because i was not about to spend $100+ dollars on renting a cap and gown and dragging all of my willing family members to that in the dead of winter. i do hope i get some gifts, mostly money for traveling, but if anything it's really nice to be celebrated a little after a grueling four and a half years. now i just have to figure out what im doing and make money. yay!

I met up with ex b a couple days before i left for arizona, which i was surprised to do but it was a lot of fun. i had gotten a little wine drunk a few weeks ago and mentioned meeting up to catch up and at the time, he did not seem into it at all so i dropped it quickly. but he texted me about a week after and continued the conversation on it so i figured why not? we were both back in the hometown (we met in high school) so it wasn't the easiest to figure out what to do, especially because he didn't want to go into the city for anything. we ended up settling on a townie bar in the town over. when we showed up, about 50 carhartt rednecks stared at us intruding on their karaoke night, so we found a quiet booth in the back. i got a jamo & coke, which ended up being very strong, and he got a beer. its always very easy for us to slip back into comfortableness around each other (we did date on and off since 2017), but i was wary after this last summer. i don't remember if ive mentioned it previously on this blog but it as exes do, we were hooking up and hanging out again and it was bad on my brain. he also was going through a patch of absolute selfishness (which is ok, he needs more of that), so we were clashing pretty hard by the end of it and the fallout was messy. but, we were able to talk about all that and speak about our lives and dreams and it was really, really nice. now, i proposed it as completely platonic which is genuinely ok with me as the rest of my life is quite hard to manage at the moment but i couldn't read whether it was purely friendship or not. he touched me a lot and made a lot of callbacks to memories and things we had done during our relationship and even towards the end of the night prompted the “what now” question as we were both staying at our family homes and couldn't go back anywhere. i don't know if he meant what i thought he meant but we have plans to see each other again some point soon. it honestly was really nice and he is still one of my favorite people and will always be a great person to have in my life. we’ll see where that goes, if anywhere.

another meet up that is hopefully happening is one ive waited on for quite awhile. wyoming is home for christmas and apparently staying until mid-january. i told him that i would literally stop talking to him (we talk every day still) if we didn't see each other, as there's a lot of effort being put into our relationship, whatever it is, and i will not continue to try if there's no promise of seeing each other in person when its possible. i would say that im pretty committed to the idea - i worry too committed at times - and would try very hard to make this work if he shows that he wants it as much as i do. ever since we started talking again, i think he has shown that and has said some things i wouldn't dare to even dream of (but who am i kidding, i think about him all the time) that have urged to me to at least try. there is a promise we will see each other, but its just hard knowing whether he wants it as much and i am simply waiting for him to make the effort to plan something. we live less than a mile away from each other in our hometown so its safe to say I'll be livid if something doesn't happen. and with everything we’ve discussed up to this point, it'd be stupid not to see each other. i am scared that i will show all my cards up front, not that i haven't started already over the phone, and make a fool of myself. i know that we are better friends than that at this point and there are bigger concerns, but i think back to how giddy my 16 year old self was at the thought of him and can't say that i won't revert back to that feeling. corny as it sounds, i have never ever been so delighted than at the feeling of his hands on me. a few weeks ago, he was drunk and told me that bottom line if he felt as much as i did (the big one) that he would never be the first one to say it. as ive relished in it since we were 16, i told him i had no problem saying it first, and about a week later i did. i was also a little inebriated and absolutely terrified, but i said “i do love u” (just like that) and then went to bed. i didn't feel bad about it in the morning, no regret, and would say it a thousand times over if he wanted me to. in a way, it was nice for me to finally get it out there - it had been a thought of mine for so long that i forgot that it was real. he didn't say it back automatically which was absolutely grueling but i knew he felt the same way and was secure enough to not really need to hear it. he had shown me. but in an air of warning almost, he did say it back and basically told me he was scared to start something official as it meant losing me one way or another. i didn't tell him this, but i think not starting something also means losing me. ive kept it in so long and now ive finally said it and i feel like my heart is bursting and i just want to keep going. i said it again a couple days ago when he was driving home from wyoming (in one go, mind you) because i figured it was a hard drive and no way would i have let him get into an accident or something without saying it again. and i will say it again and again and again because i love it. and at this point in my life, i really don't care. if im going to try, im not going to half ass it or not feel it as strongly as i do. one of us could die tomorrow. so in the mean time i will say “i love you” until i can't anymore.

gracie did in fact pass away a few weeks ago. we hired a vet who specialized in the process to come out to the house and do it there, where the puppy was comfortable and safe at home. she was scared and i think somewhat understood what was going on, as i had been coming home a lot more and goodbyes from the kids were said the night before. i don't think she would've made it through the weekend anyways. it happened on a friday at 1 pm, and she passed laying on her favorite blanket in her favorite spot on the couch. she got a brownie and a lot of oyster crackers on her way out. the worst part was seeing my mom and step dad cry, and the way the vet and my dad carried her out to the car after the process was done. i had never ever felt pain like that before and while its easy to push it away after all of the shit ive coped with, there's a twinge every time i think about her or see other dogs. it feels wrong to be in the house without her and i don't know how my parents do it. i have some of her fur and i want to have it with me in some way, maybe a locket or build-a-bear. my way of coping is to make or consume art (as well as write about it i guess) so i do want to get a tattoo remembering her at some point, but the wound is too fresh right now. where does all the love go for her? i carry it with me like a weight.

next update will hopefully be a bit more lighthearted and will hopefully have big updates to things that ive been wanting to happen or change for awhile.

xoxo anonymous

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bolontiku · 3 years

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"Be Quiet"

One Shot

Follow up to "A Drunken Kiss"

Characters: Syverson x Reader

Posted: Jan 30th

A/N: this took a minute and I hope it is what everyone was hoping for, also sorry I would have posted earlier but I crashed when I got home. 😬😬 anyways hope yall enjoy!!!

WARNINGS: sex, smut, dirty talk? A bit of choking? NO UNDER 18, language, idk what else I missed

Like, Comments, & Reblogs are always appreciated and loved.

**Please Do Not Repost My Work**

A hand slapped down on his thigh making him grunt roughly, rolling around for a moment before giving up and dropping back onto the couch with a heavy sigh.

"C'mon old dog! You've been sleeping all morning!! Spencer and I have been home since the break of dawn and you're just sleeping off a night of drinking! Get up!"

Sy bolted upright, blearily looking around.

Matt grinned at him, one thick dark eyebrow raising at him. "Y/N said that you crashed here last night."

Sy sat up, noticed your comforter was still covering him but definitely lacking in you. Had he dreamt it? The feel of your soft skin under his calloused hands? The sound you made when he pressed deeper into you?

Matt laughed, a hand smacking over the back of Sy's head, "you stink, did you fuck the bar before crashing here? Get in the shower already, pretty sure Spence has something you can borrow. How do you think Y/N will ever take you seriously if you show up in the middle of the night reeking of sex and booze? C'mon Captain-"

Sy snarled, his head aching from the massive pounding and he reached for the pills that sat on the coffee table in front of him, downing them with the water that sat there.

He froze, no, it hadn't been a dream.

The front door opened and he looked over to find you sauntering in, eyes drawn to your hips before he registered the cup holder and the coffee cups you were handing out. The dress you wore was a simple military green, a belt at your waist and it fell mid thigh, thigh… your thighs tightening around him.

"Syvrson?" Your voice drew him out of his hazy thoughts and you blinked at him expectantly, cup held out in front of him.

"Thank you darlin'," he murmured as he reached for the cup, fingers brushing yours. He frowned as you nodded but turned to smile at Spencer who stepped out of his room. Morning chatter as he sat there for a moment. How had he slept through these two idiots that guffawed loud enough so the neighborhood could hear them? He growled as he stood, noticing his pants were comfortably zipped up and he was in proper state, a little late if he hadn't been.

Spencer sat a pile of clothes by him before he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. "Scared our girl last night eh?" He asked, pulling you in close to his side, you easily leaned into him with a roll of your eyes.

Sy felt a ripple of jealousy course through him as Spencer practically wrapped himself around you. Not that he wasn't used to seeing you dwarfed by the two cousins, but since last night… "that what she say? Pretty sure she had it handled with that weapon of hers." He grinned as your eyes jerked to meet his, "might get drunk, but my memory is still good."

You understood that he was saying more by saying less.

Matt laughed, "bet that was a sight! The shit she can do with that thing though! Count your luck Syvs!" He pointed a finger at him.

"Pretty sure I can handle all five feet of her."

"Get showered, we'll get lunch started!"

Stepping out of the shower in the guest room Syverson replayed the memory of last night in his head. He definitely remembered the taste of your skin, the feel of your legs wrapped firmly around his waist as he pressed between them, forcing your legs wider as he drove in deeper. If he lifted the hem of that dress he was certain there would be a few marks where he had gripped tight.

He jolted out of his head at the sound of a soft knock, if he remembered so vividly then why were you acting as if nothing happened?

"Uhm, Sy? Lunch is ready! Matt said to hurry!" You spun on your heel hurrying to run away when the door to the bathroom flung open and he wrapped his large hand around your wrist. "Sy!" You tugged before looking over your shoulder.

He grinned as you looked back, eyes widening at the sight of him in just a towel. One quick tug had you spinning around to face him, another had you crashing against him, his body remembering the feel of your softer frame against his. Air tumbling out of you in a little whimper. "Oh I remember darlin', that is exactly what you sounded like!"

You couldn't form words, not with him fully pressed against you and utterly naked with just a towel separating you. He moved, forcing you to step back till he had your back pressed against the wall and his thick leg pressed right up between your legs. "Syverson!" You bit out his name harshly, still, you were soft under his hands.

"Shhh, be quiet now sweet thing.."

He ducked, beard scratching along the skin of your neck, hands slipping up under the hem of your dress, gripping your ass in his large hands as it bunched around your hips. You yelped and jumped forwards into him as he pressed an open mouthed kiss to your neck, a little whine escaping you as you felt his tongue lap at your skin.

"What happened to Sy?" He asked gruffly.

"Matt will catch us!" You squirmed in his grip, clutching at his thick shoulders.

"Let him," he answered quickly, grabbing one of your hands and directing it under the front of his towel. A feral snarl escaped him as your fingers wrapped around his hard member with no hesitation, "not drunk now darlin'," he cut off your words as he caught your lips with his, delighted as your hips stuttered down over his naked thigh. "Fuck" the word left him in a harsh whisper, rattling you to the core.

"Sy?" You gasped as he nipped at your exposed shoulder.

"Like that, that's how I remember it-"

"Syverson!" The word came out strangled and desperate, your brain fizzling out as he pressed his thigh up between your legs so that you could grind down on it, but he turned you around so quickly you barely had time to register what happened before he flipped your dress up and tore your panties away so that he could drive into you from behind.

You whimpered loudly, prompting him to wrap a hand over your mouth, "gotta be quiet sweet girl," he hummed, kicking your legs open wider so that he could thrust up into you. "So wet and ready for me," he nipped at your shoulder, slipping his hand between your legs as you clung to the wall desperately trying to be quiet as his thick cock pressed into you.

He closed his eyes as your walls clenched down on him, fingers swirling around your clit as he drove into you quick, "need you to come for me darlin' otherwise they'll come looking and find you in such a situation.. Not willing to show you off like that, you gonna come? Atta girl, that's it.. Feel that? Feel me deep inside of you?"

You cried out against his hand, legs giving out as he groaned in your ear, his words driving you into your orgasm, fingers unrelenting.

"Fuck, all over my cock!" He growled quietly as you came, hot breath fanning over the shell of your ear. Sy sank his teeth into your shoulder as he drove up into your tight hot sheath sloppily, a soft grunt leaving him as he sank into you repeatedly, you bit into his palm as you felt him fill you up, thick cock dragging out and stretching you wide as he filled you all over again. Your body buzzed, your mind went blank, you could only think of him driving in deep, the little grunts escaping him, one thick band of steel wrapped around your waist to keep upright now as he kept your whimpers muffled, sharp teeth nipping at your skin.

You tensed in his arms as a shout came from the direction of the kitchen. "You two stop fucking around! Food is ready goddammit!"

"Shut the fuck up Matt! I'll fuck her all I want and you'll wait!"

You smacked at his hands, it only encouraged him to pick up his pace, chasing his orgasm. "Be still sweetheart.. Gonna fill you up real good, huh, you like that? Want me to come deep inside you like last night?"

You drove your hips back taking him deeper, meeting his thrusts as he pressed his chest into your back, unable to keep still even if you wanted to. A low guttural growl escaped him as he felt you come once again before he did, hot sticky cum filling you as he jerked you back, arms wrapped around your waist holding you close to him as his hips jerked into yours with little aftershocks. His small groans making you tremble.

Sy pulled you towards the bed in the room, sitting on it and pulling you into his lap, quickly lowering you onto his cock. "Sy! We need to-"

"You need to ride my cock again, I was drunk and don't remember sweetheart" he grinned unapologetically, rolling his hips up into you.

You dropped your head to his shoulder as he chuckled, "shut up!"

"Say it…" You looked at him confused. Sy didn't move, content to sit there cock buried deep inside your cunt. Wrapping a hand into your hair at the base of your neck he grinned softly at you, "say it sweet girl"

"Sy?" He rolled his hips, "Sy-" again, "Sy," he drove up into you, "angh, SY!" You tried to keep quiet, struggling with his name, nails digging into his arms as you held on.

He leaned into you, lips pressing against yours as you circled your hips, driving your hips down as he drove his up. You rode him moaning softly as he filled you over and over, pushing your dress off your shoulder to wrap his lips around your breast. "Atta girl," you jumped, yelping, as his hand slapped down on your ass, the sting warming your skin as he leaned back, pulling you down with him. "That's it darlin' ride that cock, want you to come all over me, feel your wet pussy? Mine."

You gasped as you nodded, riding him as he lifted you, guiding your rhythm as he watched you with greedy eyes. "Sy!" You bit your lip, trying to quieten the sounds escaping you, "Sy- I.. I can't!"

He groaned as you shook your head, looking sweet as you bit your bottom lip and he swept you under him to tug your legs back around his waist with a wolfish grin. "Yeah… just like this. This is exactly how I remember you feeling. Soft and tight, perfect, made just for me" you buried your nails into his shoulders as he drove in quick and slowly pulled out. Making you feel every inch of his cock, "its alright sweet girl, you can let go"

He slanted his lips over yours as you cried out, arching into him, body shaking as you came, walls clamping down on him as he rocked into you driving in as deep as he could to fill you as he came hard and with a loud grunt. Burying his face in the crook of your neck, he grinned as he felt you flutter around him before your entire body shook with another orgasm, right on the heels of the first. You winced and slapped at his shoulders as he bit down on the tender skin of your neck, fingers wrapping around his biceps, vaguely noting the way he kept himself above you, muscles tense under the tips of your fingers.

"Y-you'll leave a mark!" You gasped.

"Mmhmm," he hummed, pulling out slowly as he pressed kisses to your face. "I think we've been caught…" He hummed, sounding smug.

You jolted, sitting up abruptly and cracking the top of your head to his chin and Sy Cursed. "Matt?" You called out softly.

Sy held still, half laying atop you half off, stifling his laughter.

"You two come out when you're ready and we will have a talk."

You dropped back into the bed face in flames, "I can't believe you."

He let go, laughter bouncing off the walls. "I told you to be quiet."

You gasped, "thats it. No more of this then! Blaming me! The nerve!"

He caught you before you could escape, chest rumbling with his mirth and pressed his entire being up against you, "it was my fault. Couldn't keep my hands off you, or my lips, or my-" you felt him press up against you and tried to stifle a moan. "Think another round to make sure I remember-"

"Sy!"

"That's it darlin you just keep repeating my name." He chuckled as he rocked his hips against yours, enjoying the way you softened in his arms immediately. The little whimper you tried to swallow, watched as your eyes fluttered shut once his hand wrapped around your throat lightly.

Why had he waited so long?

Didn't matter. Not now, now that he had had you he wasn't bout to let you go.

"GODDAMIT THAT'S MY ROOM!" Spencer bellowed loudly.

Sy roared in laughter as you squeaked and attempted to escape him, he just buried himself in you and held you under him.

"No shame!"

"None at all darlin'," he purred with satisfaction.

#be quiet #syverson #syverson x reader #reader

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piratesfromspace · 3 years

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Rain & Berries (Alfred/Reader)

Pairing: Alfred Pennyworth/Fem!Reader (The Batman, 2022) Word count: 3.5k Rated: Explicit

Summary: You wake up in a strange place, injured and scared, but Alfred is here to help you... Some hurt/comfort with Alfred

Note: While everyone is thirsting over Bruce or Selina, here I am writing for the real daddy of the Batman movie.

CW: injury recovery, implied non-consensual drug use, implied past self-harm, light smut (oral sex, f receiving)

MASTERLIST

What the fuck is going on?

It’s your first thought when you wake up in this weird bedroom. The high windows are arched and some of them have stained glass, giving a greenish hue to the late afternoon light. Dark woods cover most of the walls in a delicate panelling. And you’re lying on a canopy bed featuring burgundy velvet curtains. Everything looks expensive and carefully crafted, but the whole place literally looks like Dracula’s manor.

You feel dizzy but you try to sit up to have a better look, and that’s when you feel the bolt of pain on your side. You let out a contained gasp, your hands instinctively flying to your ribs. There's a bandage there, white gauze tightly wound around your whole torso, under an oversized black T-shirt. The cotton feels foreign under your fingers, this T-shirt is definitely not yours. Also that’s the only thing left on your body except for your panties. Weren’t you wearing a dress last night? Your head is heavy and your mouth dry, like you’re having a terrible hangover. Were you that drunk? You’re gonna get sick. You’re injured. You don’t know this freaking place. The burn of incoming tears prickle your eyes as panic starts to settle, like a vice around your throat.

You take another look around you, clenching on the soft sheets still covering your lower body. What in the hell? Where am I? You close your eyes, pressing the heels of your hand on your eyelids, in a vain attempt to wake up from this bizarre nightmare. But you’re already wide awake. Memories start flooding your mind. You were at the club with Selina. Your drink tasted funny and you were starting to feel high. There was a fight? She accused that tall man of spicing up your drink with something. Someone drew a knife. You remember the pretty lights of the dancing floor bouncing off the blade. And then, and then… you can’t remember what came next. You keep your eyes closed, trying to focus real hard on the events of the past night.

“Oh dear… ALFRED! QUICK! She’s awake!”

You almost jump out of the bed, eyes suddenly wide open. The high-pitched voice comes from an old blonde lady at the foot of your bed. She’s wearing a strict blazer and a skirt that make her look like a maid from those old books about Gotham's glorious past. Did you just travel 50 years back in time or what? She seems just as startled as you are.

You hear hurried footsteps and the thump of a cane coming from outside the room. Great, just what you need right now, another butler from the Victorian era or something . Except it’s not a decaying elder who enters the room. The aforementioned Alfred must be in his fifties, according to his glorious salt and pepper hair and beard, and the small wrinkles around his steel blue eyes. But the white shirt clinging to his broad shoulders does nothing to hide he’s still in very good shape, despite the thin dark cane he uses when he walks. A dark grey waistcoat hugs his frame, emphasising his straight back and flat stomach. You know it’s really not helping given the situation, but you can’t help to think he’s handsome.

He must read how lost you are on your face, because he quickly introduces himself before gently chastising the maid for screaming like this and making you more stressed than you already were. His colleague huffs and rolls her eyes before leaving the room, mumbling something about a more important task needing her attention. A small smile appears on Alfred’s face, and you can see the glint of mischief in his mesmerising eyes. He goes on, asking how you’re feeling. His deep voice and confident demeanour manage to calm your pounding heart a little. Enough for you to find the strength to ask what happened and where you are.

“Mmh, let’s say Selina and I, we have a common friend. And when Selina brought you to him with that awful injury, he asked me to take care of you. You’re safe here.” he gestures at the room, inadvertently bringing your attention to a big armchair a few feet from your bed. On the tufted leather lies your handbag. It’s ridiculously small and covered in silver sequins, and more importantly it holds your most prized possession: your phone. A gasp of glee escapes your lips, and without any warning you throw the sheets aside and get up to fetch it. You take only one step before the world is spinning around you, and despite your best attempt at catching your balance, your legs give up under you. Strong arms catch you a split second before you crash face first on the floor.

“Hey, easy there. You ok?” Alfred kind eyes are searching yours while he holds you against him. “You lost some blood, and you must have hypoglycemia. You need to rest.” he adds, guiding you back on the bed. You let him position your body on the mattress, your back on the plush pillows propped up against the carved wooden headboard. After a few minutes when you’re scared you’re gonna faint, the room stops spinning. A glass of water is pressed against your parched lips. You have a moment of hesitation before accepting the offer though. Your instinct might be saying you can trust the man, but you’ve been through enough trouble to know not to let your walls down so easily.

Alfred sighs and cock his head to the side. “It’s just water, you know. It’s not poisoned.” There’s the hint of amusement under the annoyance. You huff and grab the glass with a pout, just to show you’re not gonna be fouled easily. Nonetheless, you’re so thirsty that you drink from it gratefully.

“ Hypogy … what?” you finally ask, your throat not so dry anymore. “Hypoglycemia. Your blood sugar. It must be low. And I guess you’re also dehydrated. Drink a little more, and I’ll bring you something to eat.” “Are you a doctor or something?” you whisper between two sips of water. He chuckles, but it’s devoid of humour. You swear you can see a veil on his eyes for a second, but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared. “Yes. I’m a medic. I mean, I was .” “A medic… You’re military?!” your tone is blunt, and he must see how you suddenly tense, your body going stiff. “I used to. But I’m just a civilian now, have been for the past 20 years. I told you. You’re safe here.” “I want my phone.” you order, “and I want my clothes.” you add a little less sharply.

Alfred straightens up, you can feel he’s hurt by your sudden coldness. “Sure”, he brings you your bag, and you open it to find with relief your phone - which still has some battery, thank God . He shifts on his good leg before going on. “About your clothes, I’m afraid that dress of yours is definitively ruined. It was already ripped and drenched in blood, and I had to cut it open to clean you and stitch you up.”

Your cheeks grow hot at the thought he’s seen you naked. It’s stupid because as a medic, he must have seen hundreds of naked bodies, it’s part of his job, but still, you squirm a little on the sheets, fingers gripping tightly the glass of water in a vain attempt to keep some countenance. The contempt you had for him was really short-lived.

“But I’ve taken the liberty to order some new clothes for you, they should be delivered very soon, I’ll have them brought to your room. In the meantime, I can sort through the old closet of Master Bruce, I’m pretty sure he must have kept something from his teenage years that should fit you…” “Wait, Bruce , as in Bruce Wayne?” your interrupt, a mix of incredulity and curiosity in your voice. “Well, yes.” Alfred answers softly, visibly relieved you’re not shutting him down completely.

So you’re in the Wayne Tower. This explains so much and so little at the same time. You have a thousand questions, the first being why Selina never told you she knew someone from the Wayne entourage. Alfred leaves you to your thoughts, only for him to return a few minutes later with a tray he sets down on the nightstand. A glass carafe of water, a small sandwich on a plate, and a bowl of fresh berries. You know how expensive fresh fruits have gotten in this damn city, and you’re almost drooling at the sight.

Swung over one of his arms is also what looks like running pants and a hoodie. Both black. He sets the clothes on the bed next to you and you expect him to leave you alone. You don’t want him to - the few minutes when you were left alone were enough for the panic to start building up again. This place might be beautiful, it also looks like a vampire’s gonna come out of the closet any minute, and with the sun slowly setting down, you definitely don't feel like staying here on your own.

“Wait. Please.” you let out as he’s already heading toward the door. You curse internally at yourself because you sounded way more needy than what you intended. The butler stops dead in his tracks, turning back to you, his piercing gaze studying your features like you’re a riddle he needs to crack. “The injury. It... it hurts. How bad was it?” you add, palming at your side.

Alfred’s eyes widen. “Of course, I’m so sorry, do you want something for the pain? Let me check if anything is wrong with it.” He pulls an elegant wooden stool next to the bed, and rolls up his sleeves. Your gaze lingers on his toned forearms, the muscles rolling under his white skin speckled in tiny scars here and there. The blueish ink of an old tattoo peaks just under the clean white fabric of his shirt.

“May I?” he asks, before pulling up your T-shirt to reveal the bandage. You bunches the black coton up against your bare breast while he carefully undo the gauze to take a look at your wound. You follow his lead and tilt your head down to see it for yourself. There’s a mean slash of white, surrounded by red and blue and yellowish smears on your skin, like if a crazy painter had spilled some watercolour on your whole flank. But it’s clear the area had been treated well, the skin clean of any dried blood and the perfectly spaced black lines of the stitches closing what would no doubt be a gaping wound.

“You’re really lucky, the blade did not touch anything vital. The cut is actually superficial, and I have to say I did quite a nice job with the stitches, but it’s gonna hurt for a while, I’m afraid.” He starts wrapping a fresh piece of gauze around your body, wary of not touching you more than anything strictly necessary. “Looks all good, I’ll check it again tomorrow, you don’t want it to get infected.”

Despite his obvious skills at handling injured bodies, he moves a bit too fast and you hiss in pain and swear when he accidentally pulls too tight on the bandage. “Gosh, I’m-I’m so sorry” that’s the first time he fumbles with his words. A large warm hand is splayed on your naked back, as you curl on yourself, trying to survive the agonising feeling. “Breathe. Slowly. Please forgive me, usually the ones I need to patch up are quite… not that delicate.” he smiles to himself and you wonder what he really means by that.

Alfred stays with you a little more, watching you from the big armchair as you eat and text Selina - she answers almost immediately to let you know she’s busy looking for the people responsible for your state, but she’ll come as soon as she can. When you’re done, you feel the tiredness of the whole situation catching up on you, and without even realising it, you fall asleep, feeling surprisingly safe under Alfred’s attentive watch.

***

The next couple days, you stay in the Wayne Tower, and a weird little routine falls into place. You feel strong enough to venture outside of your room, discovering with awe the numerous corridors and rooms of the gothic penthouse. Alfred had you delivered new clothes, and you’re relieved to mostly find leggings and tunics when you were afraid you would have to dress in some itchy outdated suit. You’ve yet to meet anyone else outside of Alfred or the blonde maid - who you find out is actually quite nice albeit a bit shy - and there is no trace of the master of the place. Bruce Fucking Wayne. Billionaire orphan who only shows his forgettable pasty face every once and a while for some snobbish event, and doesn’t seem to spend a penny of his fortune to actually help the town. And who has a former medic soldier for a butler? And who somehow has a connection with your friend?? You need a solid discussion with Selina as soon as she’s back, because there are quite a few things you need to clear up.

You understand pretty quickly Alfred is no regular butler. Yes he cooks, but he spends most of his time working on the big table in the lavish dining room - who you swear is the exact copy of a gothic French church foyer you studied during your only year as an History of Art student. A bunch of papers with strange symbols, letters and maps seem to endlessly appear on that table, no matter how carefully he sorts them out. He lets you watch him like the little creep that you are, silently circling in the shadows of the room (you can’t stand to sit still for more than 5 minutes), asking him a few questions now and then. He always answers even though you can feel how he avoids giving any information directly related to the whereabouts of his employer, or to the actual meaning of the detective work he’s currently doing.

Maybe it’s the loneliness, maybe it’s the pain medication making you a bit unhinged, but your obsession for the man grows with every hour in his presence. You love watching him cooking your breakfast, you love the attention he gives you, always keeping an eye on you to make sure you’re alright, you love the seriousness with which he treats your injury, checking on the healing wound twice a day. You’re not used to this kind of lasting care from men. Usually they cast you aside as soon as they have taken what they want from you - and you reciprocate it well. You also love the mystery around him. His strong presence and humility. How he managed to stop your fall the other day despite his bad knee - a very old fighting injury, you’ve learned. How witty he is and how patient he stays even when you’re being a bit of a brat.

One night, he finishes dressing your wound, when he notices your scrunched up face. “Is it still hurting?” he asks softly. “No-no, I’m fine.” you say with little conviction. “Don’t lie to me sweetheart.” He has the most insufferable and old-fashioned nicknames for you. You secretly love it. Still, you roll your eyes for good measure, before you confess. “My head is hurting. I have migraines sometimes, and they can hurt like hell.” “I might have medication for that, but let me try something first.”

He sits on the mattress behind you, and you can feel how close he is, his comforting smell of mahogany and spices enveloping you. “Try to relax” he adds as his fingers sink carefully in your hair, to gently touch your head. “Migraines often come from tension in the upper body.” he recites patiently. He probs at your skull, asking a couple times if a particular pressure point hurts or not. At your negative answers, he starts massaging your scalp in soothing circles. His hands move lower, knotting at your nape, then your shoulders. He presses his thumb on a tensed muscle and pushes until you melt under his touch. You have a hard time restraining a moan because it feels so fucking good. You swear it’s even better than sex. Your entire back now feels like jelly. You don’t want him to stop, you just want the man to do his magic on your whole body. The room is so quiet, bathed in the subdued light of the smoked glass of the wall lights. The half drawn curtain of the canopy bed creates an intimate atmosphere. It feels dreamy.

You don’t mean to, but when he eventually stops, you whine in frustration. “Don’t stop, please.” you whisper. You turn to face him. You’re so close, literally in his lap, and your gaze falls on his lips, before you catch yourself and look in his eyes again. The icy blue looks like a storm brewing, you feel his hesitation, the way his jaw tense, the way he’s looking at you for a sign of what you really need. You rise on your knees, and reach for his face with a trembling hand, letting the sheets you were pressing against you fall down to reveal your breast. You’re afraid for a second he might reject you and before you can think further about what you’re about to do, you close the distance between you, sealing your lips on his. He feels surprised but answers your kiss, and when your tongue finds his way into his mouth, he hauls you up against him, big arms cradling you in his warmth. Your hands find his hair, finally succumbing to an urge you’ve been repressing since the first time you saw him. You play with the velvet of his shaved nape, while he keeps kissing you.

Fuck , you want to stay here in his lap for the rest of the night - maybe even the rest of your life. He kisses like the men in the old romance books, he’s assured in the way he holds you, he doesn’t try to prove anything. It’s passionate yet respectful, like he knows his luck. There’s the sweet taste of fresh berries on his tongue and the smoked flavour of his usual late-night black tea.

When you part, you’re breathless, and you’re left wanting more. The soft noise of the rain against the windows is the only sound in the room, there’s no one else in the penthouse tonight.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asks, his lips shiny and pink from your kiss. Your eager nod makes him chuckle. Alfred’s fingers gently lift your chin, forcing you to look at him. His blue eyes are almost grey in the shadow of the canopy. “Promise me you’ll tell me if your injury is hurting.” “I promise” you smile, hands already at work on the buttons of his waistcoat. He catches them before you can remove it entirely. “Not yet. I’m at your service tonight, as always.” He states in that delicious British accent of his.

He guides you down on your back, ever so slowly, reverently kissing every inch of your skin, until his mouth is in the crook of your hips. He peels away your pants and underwear with utmost care, worried that any harsh move would affect your wound.

He looks at you for a moment, and you start to feel self conscious under his stare, completely naked except for some white gauze on your ribs, while he’s still wearing all his clothes. You know he has already seen most of your body anyway, but this is different. You were passed out and covered in blood, and he was just doing his job - nothing sexual. Unlike today.

You're suddenly worried he will only now notice the neat stack of fine scars on your left thigh, slices you made in your own flesh that summer you were feeling so shitty only the sweet release of pain could prevent you from going totally mad. You’re worried he might be disgusted. But his lips find the raised skin with the same care he worshipped your breast.

“So beautiful” he breathes against you, raising goosebumps in his wake. He lingers there for a bit, and you’re sure you’re gonna implode if he doesn’t touch you where you need him most. Eventually, his tongue find your sex, the wet heat of his mouth engulfing your tender flesh as you gasp in pleasure. He slides his arms under your legs, holding you in place so you don’t accidentally hurt yourself. The thoughtfulness he displays each and every time is like a punch in your heart that makes you want to cry. Your fingers tangle in the grey locks of his hair, and he hums in contentment. His beard prickles the sensitive skin of your inner thighs but you don’t care.

The rain outside intensifies, the storm growing closer by the minute. And the faint rumble of the distant thunder becomes the romantic background of your blissed out moans.

#alfred pennyworth #alfred pennyworth x reader #alfred x reader #alfred x you #alfred pennyworth x you #the batman 2022 #the batman fanfic #andy serkis fanfic #andy serkis imagine #batman 2022 #alfred pennyworth fanfic #batfamily #bruce wayne

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