#god i hate tom cruise | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

queensunshinee · 5 months ago

Text

Time Of Our Lives || Part 19

warnings: mention of fingering, mention of a blowjob, a lot of sex talk in general.

Part 19

Liana fell asleep on his couch. And all Art wanted to do was to lift her up in his arms and carry her to the bedroom. Then he wanted to lock the door until she had no choice but to agree to sleep in his bed. Instead, Art covered her with a blanket and moved her a bit to put a pillow underneath her, which caused her to wake up.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered to himself. "I’ll go home, okay?" she said, smiling, looking at him with a tired expression. "Don't be stupid, I'm supposed to pick you up in the morning anyway. There’s a guest room here with your name on the door," he smiled. He hated that damn guest room. Her name was supposed to be on his bedroom door.

"I don't want to stay longer than I'm welcome," she sat up. Art looked at her as if she had fallen from the moon. He wanted to shake her, to check if she had accidentally lost the remnants of her brain. "Liana, I swear I’ll carry you to that room myself if you don't move your ass," he said, trying to feign indifference in his voice. In response, Liana simply stood up and raised her hands in surrender.

Three months had passed since Liana and Patrick broke up. Four if counting since Atlanta. Art still hadn't touched her, and he was very close to breaking. And what’s really difficult in this whole situation is the fact that Art knows she is also close to breaking.

He sees it in the way she behaves around him. How she can talk and suddenly touch his shoulder. Or run her fingers through his curls. The first time she did that, they were watching a movie and his head was on her shoulder (completely natural, not strange at all when the couch is so big), and then her hand started playing with his curls, and if Liana had looked at him, she would have seen him close his eyes, and the movie no longer interested him at all. Art could have started crying at that moment. He didn't think he would ever feel her fingers in his hair again. He didn't think his head would be so close to her. He didn't think she would touch him again.

Liana lay in the bed in the guest room and couldn't fall asleep. She knows she's playing with fire, and yet, she decides to hold a lighter in her hand. The main problem with knowing that Art Donaldson wants her is the realization that landed on her two months ago—most of the time, she is... well, horny.

Coming out of a relationship with a man like Patrick Zweig comes with dead time on the schedule that was devoted only to sex. Missionary sex, sex when she sat on his lap, sex from the side, doggy-style sex—God, how she loves doggy-style sex. And she can go on for a good few minutes describing all the positions in which Patrick fucked her for-4-years non-stop. And most of the time when she thinks about it, her hand finds itself between her thighs.

And lately, she spends so much time with Art that in her mind it no longer matters. Her dreams are mixing; Sometimes Patrick fucks her, and sometimes it’s Art. Sometimes Art tells her she’s a good girl, and sometimes Patrick tells her she needs to prove to him that she’s a good girl. Sometimes it’s Tom Cruise.

A few days ago, she looked at her colleague at work, a 57-year-old man, almost bald (the keyword here is 'almost'), and wondered what size his dick was. She’s not in a good state. She has to stop hanging around with Art, but he’s been glued to her thigh for a few months now. Although at this stage, maybe she’s glued to his thigh?

It's too confusing.

He looks good, Art Donaldson. He looks too good. The worst part is that he knows he looks good. And he’s winning his stupid game with the ball and a racket, and his smug face is plastered on a billboard across from her office. How is Liana supposed to concentrate on anything other than the fact that if she closes her eyes tightly enough, she can remember the taste of his dick and how it tickled the back of her throat?!

She’s lying in the guest room bed, and he’s lying in his bed, and she wonders if his hand is gripping his dick and he’s thinking about her. She wonders if he wants her help because she can help him. She can knock on the door and ask him if he needs help and how can she assist him.

But she won’t do that because Art Donaldson comes with baggage. He comes with hurtful words and a friendship that has already been ruined once, and neither of them can afford to ruin it again. Not because of horniness. It's not even a feeling. It’s just the need for someone to do what they want with her.

Liana went down to the kitchen to get a glass of very needed cold water, and Art was there for the same purpose. His cheeks were flushed while he looked at her. He had just finished jerking off and needed a moment to compose himself. “Didn't I put you to bed an hour ago?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, unable to ignore the fact that her nipples were hard. He had to divert his gaze from her chest. Now.

“Maybe you didn't put me in the right bed,” she mumbled while pouring herself some water, not looking at him. “Sorry?” Art really thought he hadn't heard right. “Not used to your fancy mattress, Donaldson; you should have forced me to stay on the couch,” she retracted in the most sophisticated way she could manage, afraid to cross that line.

“We have a five-and-a-half-hour drive tomorrow, Lia, go to sleep,” he swallowed hard and went up to his room with the glass of water, passing her and letting his shoulder brush against hers. Art is pretty sure that if he looks at her like that for another second, he won’t be able to control himself.

"I'm just saying, if there's an option for me not to sit next to her, I'd prefer not to sit next to Tashi." "It will be the best place, Li," Art sighed. He knows what it means for her to come to his game when Tashi is sitting in the coach's seat. He knows it takes extra mental strength from her. "I don't care where I sit, Art. I'm only looking at you anyway," she rolled her eyes, causing him to look at her with a raised eyebrow. Does she really not understand what she's saying? "Only at me?" He sounded amused. "Oh, fuck off. You know what I mean. I could really not give a shit about the tennis, I came because you asked me to," she shrugged as if it were obvious while he took his bag out of the trunk.

Art couldn't stop himself, he had to drop what he was holding and hug her. It wasn't up to him in any way. It was a higher power intervening. "I’d like to breathe again, Arthur, you're choking me," she rolled her eyes and giggled. "You know I appreciate you being here, right?" he asked as he let go of her. "Yes, I know," she smiled.

They started walking through the parking lot, and Liana suddenly stopped while Art, confused, looked to see where her gaze was directed. She was looking at a particular car and walked towards it with small steps. Art quickly realized what was happening. You don't have to be a genius—the only person whose car she could recognize was Patrick Zweig’s. He was lying in the back seat, scrolling through his phone, not noticing they were approaching until Liana (shocked) knocked on his car window, causing him to jump. Art rolled his eyes.

Patrick was in shock. He looked from Liana to Art and then from Art to Liana. This wasn't how he wanted to see her again. He wanted to see her again when his shit was in order. When he had figured out life. When his tennis was focused. When he was Patrick fucking Zweig and that meant something. Not when he sometimes slept in his car.

He got out of the car slowly, wanting to die a quick death, but even that, God denied him. "Can you give us a moment?" she asked Art in her softest voice. He hated that pitying tone. He hated Art, and he hated her. "We're going to be late for check-in," he mumbled with his hand on his neck. That anxious fuck. "Four minutes, Art," she replied, leaving no room for debate. "Yeah, four minutes, Art," he couldn't stop himself from saying with a smirk on his face. "Shut the fuck up, Patrick," Liana and Art said together. In the same unamused tone. Interesting what else they do together to be so synchronized. "Four minutes, Liana," Art said and walked away, giving them privacy.

"How are you?" Liana asked, examining him. "This is a peak moment in my life, Liana, I'm really enjoying myself," he replied sarcastically. "Do you want something?" he added. "Do you sleep a lot in your car?" she asked, folding her arms under her chest, and he really wanted to tell her to go fuck herself (not Art) and go find someone else to build her self-esteem. She kicked him out of the house. Who is she to judge where he sleeps?

"You know what, Liana?" he started. "Think twice before you finish that sentence, Patrick," she recognized the tone. A tone looking for a fight. A tone that sees nothing but Patrick's need to argue. "Why, only you can ask questions that are non-of your business? Here's a question, does he fuck you?" he asked. And maybe it was a jab, but he really wanted to know, and he knew she wouldn't answer him, so he allowed himself to piss her off.

"You know what?" she sighed. "Yes, Patrick. He's been fucking me so much in the past few months that sometimes I can't walk. Who knew Art Donaldson knew how to do so many things to a girl's ass," she said, adding a smile. One that he couldn't understand if it was real or cynical. But Liana knew Patrick's love for her ass and used every bit of knowledge she had to continue torturing him.

"Good luck in the tournament. I hope you earn enough money for a hotel room, Pat," she concluded with an eye roll and walked away. Liana really wanted to ask how he was, but he was still incorrigible, and she still couldn't avoid falling into the petty arguments he started and neither of them knew how to finish.

"Are you okay?" Art looked at her as they walked together. "Ask me again in forty minutes."

"I swear I booked a room with two beds," Art said to Liana as they stared at the massive bed in the middle of the room they were staying in. They asked to switch rooms at the front desk, but it was impossible. There were no more rooms with separate beds. Why would there be? The hotel was packed with athletes and their coaches.

Art knew Tashi was behind this. He had no way to prove it, but he knew she had a hand in the fact that he and Liana would have to share a bed this weekend. On one hand, he wanted to strangle her. On the other hand, he wanted to thank her. He’d see how the situation developed and decide accordingly.

"We’re adults," Liana said, not taking her eyes off the bed. "We can share a bed, right, Art?" She added a question at the end, looking at him and raising an eyebrow. ‘Of course not,’ Art wanted to scream. ‘I can barely share a couch with you.’ "Of course, adults who can share a bed," he parroted her words, looking at her for another moment. God help him.

"Is this your doing?" he asked Tashi at the end of practice. "What?" she replied with a feigned innocence he recognized as fake. "I asked you to stop interfering. If she finds out you’re behind this, she’ll strangle you in your sleep," Art declared. He was sure of it. He was sure Liana would go to jail for Tashi Duncan’s murder. "Why would she find out something that can’t be proven? Say ‘thank you’ nicely to your coach and try to sleep at least four hours tonight, Art," she winked (shamelessly, it should be noted) and walked away, leaving Art alone with his thoughts.

When he entered the room, Liana was there. Fresh from the shower. She was sitting on the bed, fiddling with her laptop. She greeted him without looking at him too much as he headed for the shower. He considered jerking off in the shower but was afraid she might hear him, so he gave up.

Art was an adult. He could sleep next to Liana without being tempted to touch her. He wasn’t an animal. He could handle it.

"I have a question. You can totally tell me to fuck off and we’ll never talk about it again," she said as he came out of the shower shirtless and looked at her questioningly. "Talk to me, Lia," he nodded, examining her and seeing how tense she was.

Liana paced the room a bit neurotically, her leg twitching slightly, and her hand brushing her nose. "Liana, you’re giving me a headache. Just say what you want to say," he tried to remain indifferent, but he felt his heart start to race, not knowing why.

"Do you think we could be the kind of people who fuck without commitment?" She barely took a breath between words and looked at him, biting her lip.

All Art could think was; Bingo.

And then; Of course not.

Hey thereeeee, It took me a second to write. Hope you are still here and reading. Love hearing from you guys, so you're welcome to tell me what you think, as always

taglist: @soberbabes @nina357 @lamoursansfin @marley1773 @ruyaas-world @apolloscastellan @primlovesdilfs @fangirl-kimora @serenadingtigers @imbabycowboy @do-it-for-kicks @izzywags478 @4deline08 @igotmajordaddyissues @jackierose902109 @ganana @yoitsme-04 @swetearss

#challengers fic #art donaldson #patrick zweig #the time of our lives #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig x reader #tashi duncan #challengers

131 notes · View notes

helloitstsyu · 1 year ago

Note

hello, I have a request for a tom cruise x reader fic based on the ariana grande song ‘fantasize’. that’s all, thank you xx

fantasize | Tom Cruise 18+

a/n : goshhhh this req is stuck in my mind for so long. finally I'm able to finish writing itt... i hope it fills your expectations! love the suggestion so much xx.

Pairing : Tom Cruise x f¡reader

Warning : unprotected sex, clothed sex, dirty talks, assume age gap, smut, minor dni!

Polo match.

You always hate when you're dragged to these kinda events. But your dad always insists on bringing you here. And since you just come back from college overseas, you owe it to him for a bit of quality time.

You would much rather stay at home or go out with your friends for a spa day or a pool party. Definitely not this. You feel awkward here and you don't know everyone here except your dad. Dad said it's not just about the game but it's about the networking. And so there he is, leaving you behind as he talks to his colleagues.

The game is about to start. Your dad calls for you. As you walk towards him, you see he's standing next to a man. His hair is perfectly styled. He's wearing a navy suit with a matching navy patterned tie. His eyes covered behind a sunglasses, but you kinda feel something about him is familiar, like you've seen him somewhere or something.

"Tom, i want you to meet my daughter." Dad places his hand behind your waist. Looks at you proudly, "She just came back from Harvard– took a double degree there while running her own business... couldn't get much prouder of my little cupcake." Your dad says.

Your dad has a habit of over-introducing you in front of people. "Dad, you're doing it again," you chuckle awkwardly as you shake your head.

Turning your head, you prolong your hand first for a shake. Shooting the man your most friendliest smile. "Hi, pleasure to meet you, i'm Y/N Y/L/N,"

He takes his glasses off and then shakes your hand.

That face. That eyes. Beat drops. You could feel your heart stop at the sight.

"Hi... I'm Tom,"

Cruise. He is Tom Cruise.

That's why you knew something about him is familiar, he's the freaking Hollywood god.

This shouldn't surprise you– to meet celebrities and all. Your dad works in the business as a producer. But something is different this time. Something is different about Tom Cruise. You almost feel like the air gets hotter. Perhaps it is him being so hot, or perhaps it's the way he stares at you with an intrigue in his eyes.

"So you're the famous Y/N Y/L/N... I've heard so much about you." He says, shooting a friendly smile.

"Yeah? Not the fun part, though," you mutter quietly.

Your dad and Tom both only stay silent and look at you, processing what you've just said.That came out of nowhere. The moment you realized you've said it, you regret it.

A few seconds pass with silence, but thankfully, your dad breaks into a laughter, lightening up the intense situation. "You're funny, sweetheart," your dad says. He must've not gotten the hidden intent behind what you said.

Tom however, just chuckles a little and a ghost smile appears on his face, his eyes light up as if he's enjoying some private humor. "Well.. I'd love to know more," Tom says. His gaze is unwavering and intense.

The event host then announces that the game is about to be started. You take your seat next to your dad. Tom is sitting a couple rows down from you, that doesn't stop you from keeping your eyes glued at him all the time.

For some reason, your heart is pounding mercilessly. You curse at yourself for being so stupid, muttering things out of your mouth before you think more about it. The way Tom gazed at you makes you feel some type of way, you're mentally and physically weak.

The way Tom moves a couple rows down there, the way he runs his fingers to his hair, the way his eyes dead-locked-focused watching the game as he chews a gum. That eyes, that jawline, that hair — Everything about this man just attracts every single bit of your cell. You're actually feeling all hot and horny right now.

Your mind starts to play on its own. Imagining what those lips would taste like. Imagining to run your fingers through that brunette strands. Imagining yourself getting fucked in this VIP little box — him pinning you down, he'd make you moaning hard, he'd pound mercilessly to you as he licks your moaning mouth. Oh, you'd give anything for him.

The loud cheer of the audience as the game ends awakes you back into reality. Somehow, you miss the whole game having your own preferred one in your head.

As you're about to leave your box, Tom comes to you and your dad again. Making some casual talks about the game and how great it was. You just stand there silence, still recovering from that heavy game you played in your mind.

"Cupcake," your dad turns around and calls for you, "If it's okay... i invite Tom to our lunch, i still have some business to discuss with him. I hope you're okay with it."

Before you can answer, your dad's phone rings. "Shit... hang on, sweetheart,"

"It's all fine, dad. I'll just go wait in the car." You say. You know whenever your dad's phone rings, that'll take some time. So rather than spending here talking with Tom and risking yourself to be flustered and caught in the open. You'd rather go back to your car and chill alone.

You get in your car and quickly turn on the air conditioning to the fullest setting. You sigh heavily.

You try to shake the picture of him in your head, trying to stop this feeling. You take a long breath in and just look at yourself from the rearview mirror. For some reason, you still feel horny. As if this feeling is not gonna go away until you're fed.

Looking around there's no one here around the parking lot. So you do what you gotta do to help yourself. You move to the back seat and lay down comfortably. You shut your eyes close and hoping that Tom is here. Hoping that Tom knows what he did to you, the feeling he inflicted on you.

All of a sudden, your door just pulled open, startling you to open your eyes and sit up. To your much surprise, it's Tom. He is ducking his head in.

"Tom? Wh-what are you doing?" You cluelessly ask.

"What needs to be done," he retorts in hushed voice.

He gets in and slams back the door close. In one quick motion, he lunges at you, grabs you by your face and kisses you. His lips on yours feel so soft and so burning at the same time— addicting, that's what he tastes like. You moan into his mouth, giving him just enough the opening. His tongue expertly exploring your mouth.

You have never been kissed like this. Your tongue tentatively plays back and joins his in an erotic movement. He gently pushes you back till you're laying down flat on the back seat with him on top of you. You're helpless, you're all pinned down, and he's restraining you with his whole body. You wrap your legs around his hips, allowing him to completely have his body pressed to yours. His hand explores your body, trailing the length of your thigh to your hips. Feeling something hardering, nudging you, you couldnt help to grind your center to his cock.

He hiss against your mouth. But Tom doesn't stop you or anything, rather he moves to kiss all over your chin, moving to your neck. The moment he sucks and nibs your sensitive skin, he got your eyes rolling back. You grip onto his jacket and swallows your edging moan.

"Tom..." you mutter.

Tom asks. Kiss more of your neck.

"Yes, darling?" Tom whispers in your ear before he gently bites your earlobe. Earning your jaw falls agape. He moves again to your collar bone, kissing you in the softest-teasing way.

He breathes against your flushed chest. His breath is hot, just like the way he makes you feel right now. He lays a soft, gentle kiss all across your flushed chest. Lowering himself even more as he gradually pulls your dress down along his way till your breast finally uncovered. He softly gasps at the sight of you. He glances to your eyes, lust covers in his gaze, before he places a kiss around your nipple.

You hiss, fingers grip onto his jacket.The moment he flick his tongue then sucks your nipple, you couldn't hold in your moan even more. "Ohh!" You moan.

Tom pushes himself off your neck and looks back into your eyes. "Come on, Y/N, show me how fun you can be," he challenges.

And just like that, the switch is being made. You turn off all of the good girl sides about you and this lust overdriving you into some dangerous character that'll put you in trouble. You pull him back to your lips and kiss him passionately. Your hands quickly run his body, feeling the toned muscles underneath. 60 or something, it is a joke that he's looking this damn hot at this age. You rub him from outside his pants.

You could feel Tom smirking against your lips. "Good girl," he chuckles.

You hurriedly take off his belt. Him helping you too. You push his trousers down just enough till you can grab his hard shaft and pulls it out from the torment of its lack of space. Tom groans as you wrap your hand around him. Fuck, he's big. And so hard. You pump his cock and spread his precum all over his shaft.

"Is that what you want?" Tom asks.

Glancing back to his eyes, you nod. "I want you to fuck me,"

A content smile appears on his face. He pushes your panties to the side and just pushes himself through your folds without warning.

"Ahh!" You squal uncomfortably to the unfamiliar size of him, gripping onto his shoulder.

Tom quickly bottoms out, pushing all the way of him inside of you. He doesn't wait for you to adjust to his size. He starts to pound his hips mercilessly into you, fucking you in a relentless pace.

"Ohhh! Fuck! ToOoMMm!" You shut your eyes and titled your head back.

"Yes! Yes! That's it moan my name!" He grins loving the way your face contorts to pleasure drunk. "You wanted my cock the moment you laid your eyes on me, huh? Looking at me with all of that slutty eyes, you know what you're doing, darling," he says to your ears as his cock pounds mercilessly to your tight channel.

You couldn't reply to him even if you wanted to. You only look back to him and nod.

"Oh, T-tom!" You cry. Tears dripping down your cheek.

"Fuck, Y/N" he groans. Tom holds your face. He presses his lips to yours again, silencing you from screaming loud.

He got you a moaning mess that you don't care if someone could hear you or see this little scene in your car. You never fucked like this before. So good that you'd do anything to have him fuck you like this again and again. You'd give your pussy for him, five to nine, nine to five. Tom fucks you like the way you fantasize your filthiest fantasies.

You feel your walls clenching hard. And the white hot pleasure becomes too unbearable to hold back. A few more thrust, and you're spilling all over. You squal all over the car. Knees clamping together as all of your muscles tighten.

You never have orgasm like that. It is by far your most intense that after the pinnacle, you feel bliss. For a few seconds, the room is so quiet — so peaceful...

You open your eyes and stare at the roof of your car. All of a sudden, like a slap to your face, waking you back into reality, your door is pulled open from the outside. Quickly, you sit up and try to fix yourself, push down your dress and all but it is all helpless. You're so caught right-handed. Looking up, the person who caught you right-handed guilty is the one you hope for dear life it wont be— Tom Cruise. He's peering down, slightly bending to meet your eyes.

You feel so embarrassed that you couldn't even feel a thing or think anything.

"Your dad wanted me to tell you lunch is off... meetings." He tells.

You just sit there feeling like you're slowly crippling to die. The optimistic side of you still whispers that perhaps he didn't see nothing. You have a tinted window afterall.... do you?

Tom gaze down at you with that light up, amused emerald eyes. Then slightly the corner of his lips pulled up to a smirk, like he's been there for a while and just watched you pleasuring yourself.

"Have a great day, Y/N," he mischievously smiles and closes back your door.

#tom cruise #tom cruise x reader #tom cruise fanfiction #tom cruise smut #pete maverick mitchell #tom cruise fic #tom cruise x female reader #top gun maverick #pete mitchell x reader #maverick x reader #daddy smut #tom cruise fanfic #tom cruise fluff #ethan hunt fic #ethan hunt

605 notes · View notes

wasawattpadkid · 2 years ago

Text

Housewife

Part - 7

Summery: Billy and Stu have been planning these murders for quite some time. Everything is going to plan until you show up. What happens when they meet someone who is just as mentally deluded as they are?

Pairing: poly!ghostface x fem!reader

Warnings for this series: murder, blood, smut (will be more in depth on smut chapters), power dynamics, a dash of sexism, knives, stalking, perverse behavior, cheating,

Part 1

It was the sleepover you never had. Although there was no pillow fights and a little too much Tom Cruise, you had the best time you've had in a while. "God you sound like Billy." Sydney laid back in her bed toying with her hair nervously. "I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be hateful. It's not just scary movies either, you haven't seen any classics?" Tatum snickered throwing her stuffed animal in the air, catching it as it fell back down. "Well you haven't seen any new movies. It's like for the past 6 years you've been locked in grandmas basement."

"Maybe you're right." You sat on the floor organizing your bag. "Do you have any songs or movies you like that your dad or someone else in your family doesn't like?" Sydney asked genuinely curious. You thought about it for a second but your silence answered the question for them. "You've been totally brainwashed babe." Tatum quipped in a way that made you feel a little ashamed. "Y/n there's nothing wrong with liking the things you do, but you should be doing it because you like it and not because someone else does."

"Yeah you need to take notes from Syd here. She is thee feminist. Billy and her have been dating for over a year and she still hasn't slept with him." The brown haired girl looked upset at her friend's honesty. "What'd I say wrong? I wish I could do what you do. I know If I left Stu to his own devices he would just find someone else to help him out." You looked to the floor ready to throw up at a moments notice. That's what this was. You weren't special. Billy took an interest in you because he thought you would put out unlike his girlfriend. "Y/n?"

"I should break up with my boyfriend." You said flatly, all the moisture from your mouth disappeared at the realization. "Huh?" Sydney asked confused by the switch up but Tatum however was your number one cheerleader. "Hell yeah kick that bastard to the curb! What did he do?" Dylan wasn't even that good of a boyfriend back home you weren't sure why he wanted to keep things long distance. This whole discussion though made you want to change some things. "He still lives back home and I just really want to start over now."

You rang up your boyfriend and called it quits. The yelling on the phone was a surprise but Tatum quickly took the phone from you saying something you weren't really sure you were allowed to repeat. Sleeping in a house that wasn't your's was hard especially when you kept thinking about the two men you knew a little too well. Sunday morning was a blur, it consisted of cereal, the news going on about the murders, and school gossip. Eventually you and the girls made it back to Tatum bedroom.

"Hello you must be Y/n." The cop held out his hand for you to shake, which you did. "I'm Dewy." He said. His awkward presence was somehow comforting. "Ew dipshit don't flirt with my friends." Tatum complained making Sydney crack a smile. Red sprinkled his cheeks as he tried to defend himself. "You're fine. It's nice to meet you, Dewy. So you're a cop?" You point to the badge just trying to make conversation. "Here we go." Tatum whispered and Dewy smiled. "I'm actually a deputy." He tapped his badge with pride.

"He's just like Arnold Schwarzenegger... In kindergarten cop." Tatum made fun of him again almost making you crack a smile. "I think it's cool." He looked over at Sydney noticing her quietness. "How are you Syd?" She nodded with a fake smile. "Yesterday was hard so today has to be better." Dewy nodded. "I'm sorry to hear about your grandparents." Tatum's brother looked at you as he spoke. The word "grandparents" made you look up. "Oh um... Thanks." You weren't quite sure what the appropriate response to that was. "I'm going to use the bathroom." You excused yourself leaving the three of them together.

"Why would you bring that up?" Tatum scolded. "What happened to her grandparents?" Sydney asked. Dewy leaned on the door frame looking down the hallway making sure you were out of ear shot. "They committed suicide together. Both of them took a handful of sleeping pills, and she found them." The two girls felt bad hearing the information. Tatum remembered a commotion happening at the house down the street but she never knew what exactly had happened. Just that you moved in shortly after.

You walked back to the bedroom once you dried your face off from the water you threw onto your skin. "Well I've got to get going. Do you girls need anything?" He asked and everyone said no. Dewy left with a wave shutting the door behind him. "Sorry he's not very socially aware." Tatum apologized but you just nodded. "It's fine. Really." They didn't believe you but they dropped the discussion anyhow.

The day went on with Tatum doing your nails and trying on half the clothes you brought over. You offered Sydney to join in but she declined. Later on you and Sydney talked about what books you had read which Tatum was not interested in at all. It was much harder keeping them two entertained than it was with Billy and Stu. There didn't seem to be much common ground between the girls. You slept much easier than the night previous. Maybe you were finally settling in.

"Wake up girls." Tatum's mom beat on the door making everyone but Tatum jump up. You groaned as Sydney went to wake up her friend. You pulled a pair of bell-bottoms from your bag along with an old band shirt. It wasn't what you'd normally wear to school but you didn't have the time nor energy to doll yourself up. "I like the grunge look on you." You felt partially offended by Tatum's compliment because there was nothing "grunge" about your look. The outfit consisted of jeans, a shirt, no makeup, paired with hair you hadn't had the chance to fix.

"You look comfortable." Sydney chirped meaning well. Their back handed compliments made you want to crawl in a hole. You sat down with the girls in the kitchen, quickly eating breakfast before Dewy came to take you to school. You offered to just get your car but Dewy refused saying he was fine to drive. The thought about skipping the day completely had crossed your mind multiple times.

The moment the car stopped at school you said goodbye to your friends. "I've got to go grab some things from my locker I'll catch you at lunch." You didn't give them time to protest. Unfortunately for you Stu was at your locker waiting patiently for your appearance. "Yo Betty Crock- Pants?" You weren't in the mood for either one of their antics. "You look lovely today." He said like a kid with a crush. Stu swayed back and forth on his heels waiting for you to acknowledge his existence. "Did I do something wrong?" You slammed your locker shut making him jump.

"I'll take that as a yes." You turned to walk away but it never did any good with Stu. "I can't fix this if you don't tell me what's wrong." You stopped, looking at him with tears stinging your eyes. "We can't do this Stu." You pulled him to the side out of everyone's way. "You and Billy are my friends." The emphasis on friends made his heart shrink a little. "I would hope so after everything-" He tried to crack a joke to make you laugh but he didn't realize you felt like the joke was on you. "Would you just listen!" You cut him off grabbing the attention of some bystanders. You waited a moment for people to pass by before speaking.

"This cannot happen. Me, you, and Billy, can no longer happen. No more hanging out at my place, no more ambushing me in public bathrooms," He smiled at that not being able to take a single thing seriously. "No more hanging around at my locker. Tatum and Sydney are sweet girls who don't deserve what we did to them. As long as they are in the picture I'm not going to be, understand?" The bottom line was you weren't a plaything and you weren't a homewrecker. Stu however took it the way he wanted to.

"I understand. I'm sorry if we overstepped." You were ready for him to get on one knee and embarrass you into forgiving him. This was a nice change. "Thank you Stu." He smiled. "Will you still hang with us at lunch?" Damnit. "No Stu, I won't. I've got to make new friends. Since day one all I've known is you and Billy. And now that I've gotten to know Sydney and Tatum, I realized I need my own thing." The bell rung ending the conversation prematurely. "See ya Stu."

"Shit, Shit, Shit," Stu repeated the word over and over like a small prayer. He walked the halls quickly finding Billy's first period class. Stu waved like a mad man trying to get his friend's attention through the window. "May I go to the bathroom?" Billy asked already getting up from his seat. "You may Mr. Loomis." The boy wasn't too happy with the sudden distraction. "This better be good." Billy started walking towards the bathroom with Stu in tow.

"Y/n is dropping us." Billy stopped in his tracks at the confession. Calmly he took a breath saving his anger for a secluded spot. He picked of his feet once again heading towards the restroom. Stu was terrified not only of losing you but also of his friends short fuse. The moment the bathroom door was locked he exploded. "What the fuck do you mean?" Billy cursed as he pushed open each stall checking for anyone. "She said it was wrong what we were doing to Tatum and Syd and as long as they were in the picture she wasn't going to be." Billy grabbed Stu's shirt by the collar. "This shit wouldn't have happened if you didn't call Sydney the other night."

He pushed his friend backwards letting Stu's back hit the wall. "How many times do I have to tell you I didn't do it man?" Billy didn't believe him. Stu was always doing something he shouldn't be. "We'll go back to our plan. Do everything exactly the same way just a little later than we hoped." Billy breathed out thinking of how to pull this off. "Syd's mom's anniversary was Saturday."

"You think I don't know that dipshit?" He pointed in Stu's face. Running his hands through his hair he tried to calm down. "Neil killed Casey and Steve on Wednesday night. That's when he told Syd he was leaving town." Stu just nodded along listening to Billy. "With all the publicity of the murders he wasn't able to kill anyone's else so he calls his daughter Friday night."

"How does he know she's with Tatum?" Billy paced back and forth. "Neil's been stalking her because she's his next victim. He sees Syd leave his house with Tatum. Anyway he scares the shit out of his daughter Friday night laying low till Monday. Ghostface will make a guest appearance today to meet Syd. Himbry will have to close shop because of the killer. You'll tell everyone you're throwing a party to celebrate the break. Invite Syd and Tatum since Y/n is such good friends with them now she'll have to go with them."

It was like watching a genius at work. Stu really believed Billy could pull it off. "Neil kills Himbry. They went to school together back in the day it could be old revenge. At the party I'll take care of Tatum first but you'll have to send her to the garage and make sure no one goes with her." Billy looked at Stu waiting for him to promise to do his job. "Yes Sir." Billy looked at his boots piecing together the rest of the puzzle. "Neil kills Tatum after that I show up to apologize for being a shitty boyfriend. I'll take Syd up to your room that's where you'll have to "kill" me. You'll grab Sydney and bring her to the kitchen. We'll reveal everything blow her daddy's brains out and then Syd is the cherry on top of a really fucked up cake."

It was a good plan in Stu's eyes. "Where does that leave Y/n?" Billy smiled "She's going to rescue us. Neil's dead and so is his daughter. We've been stabbed left for dead but poor Y/n comes along and calls the cops helping us live to see another day. All we have to do is hit her hard enough to keep her out for awhile. Which means before I show up late I'll need you to get her alone in a room. I'll show up dressed in black and knock her unconscious. You'll go back to the party and I'll show up fashionably late."

"I could kiss you." Stu said happily throwing out his arms. "Don't make me stab you early." Billy threatened. Stu's smile dropped. "Now I'm going back to class I'll see Syd later today just keep being your bubbly self. You got that?" Stu nodded happy everything was going to work out after all.

"It was just some sick fuck having a laugh." Tatum tried to convince Sydney. "She's right Syd I mean those assholes were running up and down the hallways with masks." Sydney shook her head at you sure of what she saw. "It was him. I know it." You walked down the steps right next to your friends. "From now on you are not to be alone. You pee, I pee." Tatum added. Stu ran up spouting some gibberish giving you and the girls a flower. "Darling, I don't know what you did Sydney but on behalf of the entire student body we say thank you!"

Tatum tapped her boyfriend with the flower. "Stop it Stu." She gritted trying to tone down his behavior. "You know I say," He picked Tatum up throwing her over his shoulder. The very cute display made you advert your eyes. You didn't know why you were upset this is exactly what you asked him to do. But it still somehow felt he was going out of his way to upset you.

"Impromptu party tonight, my house. To celebrate this little scare storm, what do ya say?" You and Sydney kept walking while Stu trailed behind. "Are you serious?" Sydney questioned the insane kid. "Parents are out of town." He smacked Tatum's ass causing her to sqeek with a laugh. "If this little vixen doesn't invite the whole world we'll be fine. Mix in with the gathering, mix in with friends." He sat Tatum down letting her talk to Sydney.

You watched Stu trying hard to convince Sydney to go. "What do you say Syd? I mean Pathos could have it's perks. Y/n's never been to one of Stu's parties." Tatum said dragging you into it. "I don't really have party clothes plus what if the killer is there?" You questioned. "I'll totally protect you. Yo I am so buff, I got you covered girl." Tatum laughed at her boyfriend. Sydney whined not liking the idea at all. "I mean come on Syd. For me? It could be fun." Stu proceeded to kiss Tatum's neck bringing back all too fresh memories. "Okay, whatever." Tatum squealed.

"Nice!" Stu said "Make sure you girls bring some food when you come over." Stu left you and your friends to go run off somewhere. "I think I'm just going to head home for tonight." Sydney piped up. "No way. If I'm going you have to go." You threw your head back with a groan. "I don't even have clothes for a party." Tatum spun around. "Now that I can help with."

You raised your hand in protest. "You're not dressing me up like a prostitute." Sydney smiled knowing exactly how Tatum would've dressed you. "You're no fun." Tatum teased as you walked back to Dewy's car. Sydney looked at the ground while you and Tatum discussed what you'd wear. Something wasn't sitting right with her but she wasn't sure what it was.

(if your name has a line through it Tumblr wouldn't let me tag you.)

Part 8

Taglist: @katie-tibo @agustdeeyaa @bowlofceral @gonnapermashift @tati-the-fangirl @kozumewhore @tatijoestar @illyanam1011 @c4rved-pumpk1n @msghostface @gojosbucket @sammanna @lokigirlszendaya @reneki @fetusharryluvr @kadu-5607 @pumpk1n-writes @lovekeeho @tojisblood @zeysartzone @bluedevilss @life-of-music3 @flyestvenustrap @littleblondesoprano @imobsessedreader @loomiscorpse @nicciekawegosblog @reneemunson @miss-puregotti @ksgsfsgaj @zoleea-exultant

2K notes · View notes

exitpursuedbyavulcan · 11 months ago

Text

After the War

The night before Tom is sent back to his ship, he spends one last night with his best girl and makes plans for what they'll do when the war is over.

Pairing: Tom Bennett x Reader (2nd person)

Warnings: kissing, fingering, Tom being a lil nasty but it's ok he's hot

This work is a part of my 12 Days of Smuff event! Read the rest here.

My Masterlist

After the War

Prompt: Dreams & Dirty Talk

Tom’s navy uniform had long been discarded on the floor beside the bed; no doubt it would be hopelessly wrinkled when he boarded his train the next day. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care about that at all.

Not when Tom was getting on a train tomorrow, one that would take him to war.

You hated him for getting arrested. You hated him for agreeing to join up to get out of jail. You hated him for going back on his promise to register as a conscientious objector. And you hated him most of all for having the gall to be excited about leaving.

“So, since I won’t need to use my wages on the ship, it’ll be sent back here to Dad. And Lois too, I guess.” Tom quirked his brows and took another puff of his cigarette – his fourth of the night so far – and idly played with your hair as your hair while you rested your head against his chest.

He’d been talking nonstop since he rolled off of you after your last round of lovemaking.

No, it wasn’t lovemaking. It was fucking. Frantic, desperate fucking in lieu of actually talking about what would happen tomorrow, or the next day, or even the next year.

“I told him he could use it if he needed it, but that I want to come home to at least a bit of a stash, you know?”

‘Come home.’

That is what broke you—those two little, uncertain words. There was every possibility that Tom wouldn’t come home, and this last night would be all you had.

You started crying, suddenly and fiercely, burying your face in the smattering of hair on his chest.

Tom instantly sat up, wrapping his arms around you and cradling you against him. “Hey, hey. None of that, love. Tonight’s a happy night, yeah?”

“It’s not!” you insisted through your tears. “It’s not happy at all, Tom!”

He tilted and shook his head in a way you knew meant he was about to argue with you, so you continued before he could. “You’re leaving tomorrow – to go to war! You aren’t going on a fucking holiday! You’ll be on a battleship, not a river cruise!”

“Love, I…”

“No,” you pled, burying yourself in his shoulder. “Don’t make promises we both know you won’t keep. Don’t give me that hope.”

Tom scoffed, “You want me to tell you I’m gonna die?”

You grabbed one of his nipples between your fingers and pinched. Hard.

“Fuckin’ hell, woman!” Tom shouted, gripping your wrist tightly and yanking your hand off his nipple. “I was joking!”

“Don’t joke then!” You were sure your face was red as you yelled at him.

He slapped a hand over your mouth and lowered his voice. “Your mum is gonna hear us if you don’t quiet down, love. I don’t want my last night here to be spent being chased down the street naked by your fuming mum.”

You moved to tear his hand away, but when you met his eyes, you saw that there was fear there. And sadness, longing, grief. He was just as terrified as you. More, even.

When he felt you relax, he removed his hand. “Now,” his voice had become gentle, if a little strained, “are you going to yell at me again? Or try to rip my nipple off?”

You shook your head.

“Good.” He pulled you into him again, and you let him. He held you with your back toward him, one of his large hands splayed on your stomach and the other stroking your hair. “Then… what do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know.” You leaned into his chest, resting your head against his shoulder. He did nothing to egg you on, only held you close as you thought. “Tell me about the future,” you finally said. “About our future.”

“Alright,” he took a deep breath before he began narrating. You may or may not have prayed to God to grant him the gift of prophecy.

“Well… tomorrow, I’m gonna climb down outta that window there,” he pointed to your bedroom window, “and I’m gonna run down the street and climb up into my own window. I’ll have breakfast with Lois and my dad. Then we’ll all go to the train station, and you’ll meet us there – no sailor can leave home without a goodbye kiss from his best girl.”

You blushed at that, then blushed further when he tweaked your nose.

“I’ll go to training. Obviously, they’ll recognize my amazing natural talents and promote me right off.” You made a snarky comment about his overwhelming humility that he quickly silenced by tickling you. “I think I’ll get a few days leave between training and shipping out, so I’ll come back here.”

The joking grin mostly faded from his face, his eyes focusing on your face as his voice lowered. “I’ll use my wages from training to buy a nice ring, or, as nice as I can afford. I’ll have you wear your best dress and take you to the Palais for a night of dancing. Then, I’ll take you to the register office and marry you.”

Your breath vanished from your lungs. “But, there’s a waiting period…”

“Nah,” he said all too quickly. He’d been thinking about this, you realized. Planning it. “They’re waving that for all the boys going to fight. And this way, you’ll get the marriage allowance. And the widow’s pension, if…”

Tears threatened to come to your eyes again, and Tom barreled on. “I expect a good amount of that allowance to go to buying yourself some lovely lingerie to entertain me whenever I get leave.”

“You’re disgusting,” you half-heartedly teased.

Tom began moving the hand he had on your stomach lower, drawing random circles and loops and other shapes you couldn’t identify. “Don’t pretend you don’t love it. Besides, I need something to motivate me to live, don’t I?”

Any protest you had to his dark humor died when his long fingers traveled lower, teasing you just enough to take your breath away. And to prove him right.

“Well, look what I found…” he whispered huskily in your ear. “A wanton young woman who loves it when her man is ‘disgusting?’ Lucky for you, I like my best gal a little loose.”

You moaned in both offense and pleasure as his thumb started rubbing soft circles on your pearl, and his middle finger began just barely dipping in and out of your entrance. Not enough. It wasn’t nearly enough.

“I’m going to write you letters every day when I’m at sea,” he promised. “Each day, I’ll give you new instructions. New little ways you can entertain me even when I’m half a world away.”

“Like what?” you managed to ask as his finger finally began to go deeper, but achingly slowly.

“Mmm… one day, I may ask you to do something as tame as leaving your panties at home. But when I’m really missing you, I’ll want you to be the biggest slut in Manchester. A faithful slut, mind you, but still.”

Something about his words, mixed with the way he began stroking that glorious rough patch inside you drove you absolutely wild. Seeking more speed, you began bucking your hips against his hand. But he only rested his other on your hips to keep you still.

“Maybe I’ll ask you to touch yourself in a particular way, and then tell me how much you liked it. Or maybe I’ll have you touch yourself somewhere new. Say, the Palais? Or your parents' kitchen table?”

You whimpered. This shouldn’t be as arousing as it was, you knew. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that these wicked things would be the only way you could get close to fucking him whenever he was away.

“I may even have you take some pictures to send in your letters. Didn’t you say your uncle offered you a job at his photography studio? Yeah, I think you need to take him up on that one.”

His musings seemed to fade as he moved his fingers faster, even slipping another into you. He no longer wanted just to tease you, but to satisfy you. “I’ll be desperate, love. Stuck in a tin can with a bunch of other blokes. And I know I can’t last with just the pin-ups. None of them come close to you.

“Will you do it for me? Will you buy the sluttiest lingerie you can find? Touch yourself for me? Whenever and wherever I want you to? Send my pictures like you’re no better than the whores who mail their photos for a couple pennies?”

You arched your back, feeling his words speed your climax along. “Yes, Tom. All of it. I’ll do anything for you.”

He leaned down and planted a sloppy kiss on your lips, swallowing your screams as he brought you to the edge, never stilling his fingers until you begged him to. “That’s my girl.”

You turned toward him, having felt his cock hard against your back. But he did not let you. He held you in place, not even griding into you.

“Not yet, greedy thing. I haven’t finished my story yet.” You fought him a little, but ended up lying back when he refused to relent. “Now, where was I?”

“I was being the most faithful slut in Manchester.”

“Oh yes, I love that part. But after that, once we defeat the Jerries and good triumphs, I’ll come home to you. We’ll both have saved enough to buy our own place, or at least rent a decent flat. And…”

Tom probably talked for hours until he fell asleep. You wondered if he ever took care of his erection. But you weren’t sure.

Not long after he started telling the rest of the story, you’d fallen asleep. Some part of you must have kept listening, though. Your dreams were full of visions of the life you and Tom would have.

A tearful reunion when he came home for good. Kissing at the train station so long that everyone else would leave and only you two would remain.

Him carrying you into your new home. Somehow, he’d managed to snag a gorgeous flat in the heart of the city, with grand windows that gave you a magnificent view of the sunset.

He’d find some job he loved (even in your dreams, you couldn’t imagine what job that would be) and make enough that you’d never have to worry about money again. Maybe you could even help your parents out.

Eventually, you’d have children. And since it was a dream, childbirth was a breeze, and the kids were perfectly behaved.

It was a perfect life.

A perfect dream.

But when you woke, you watched Tom climb out your window, and reality came crashing back down.

#tom bennett #tom bennett x reader #tom bennett fic #tom bennett fanfic #tom bennet fanfiction #tom bennet smut #tom bennett imagine #tom bennett x you #world on fire #ewan mitchell #12 days of smuff

317 notes · View notes

medievalandfantasymelee · 2 months ago

Text

THE HOT MEDIEVAL & FANTASY MEN MELEE

FIRST ROUND: 32nd Tilt

Durotan, Warcraft (2016) VS. Giuliano de Medici, Medici (2016-2019)

Propaganda

Durotan, Warcraft (2016) Portrayed by: Toby Kebbell Defeated Opponents: - Prince Daemon Targaryen [Matt Smith], House of the Dragon (2022-)

“big. good fucking lord so big. shoulders for days. hairy chest. big teeth.”

Giuliano de Medici, Medici (2016-2019) Portrayed by: Bradley James Defeated Opponents: - Jack [Tom Cruise], Legend (1985)

“GIULIANO, MY ABSOLUTE BELOVED. There's no one who can do slutty tarty fuckboy with a heart of gold and a side of whumpy pain quite like him. You start off the series and you see him the first time and you go "oh damn he's GORGEOUS... but he's a fuckboy, gonna love to hate him, great! I hope he's shirtless a lot!" (He is.) And then you see him the second time and you go "oh no he loves his family! He adores his sister!! He would do anything for his brother!! He's a sweet mama boy!!!" And then you see him a third time and you go "oh wow he hurts so prettily", and then as the series goes on you wish you'd never thought that, because yes, he DOES hurt so prettily. Multiple times. And at that point he activates all the PROTECC instincts but it's too late. And you end this series with your heart broken by him and you just want to go back to the start to see him smile his tarty smug smile that makes you want to punch him in the mouth. With your mouth. Because god he's so fucking PRETTY.”

Additional Propaganda Under the Cut

Additional Propaganda

For Durotan:

For Giuliano:

“He's unbearably cocky and hot ... but also sad and tragic”

#medieval hotties round 1 #durotan #giuliano de medici #warcraft 2016 #medici the magnificent #toby kebbell #bradley james #fuck that medieval man #(or orc)

90 notes · View notes

shinakazami1 · 1 month ago

Text

Transcript of IGN Handsome Jack QnA

This thing doesn't have the whole text but - questions and some of my fav Meg-Jack interactions :^] I tried to write their speech patterns as close as possible

youtube

Transcript under the cut:

0:30: Question: Is Buttstallion the best horse ever Jack : Well it’s my horse. That I made her ( <- FACT CHECK: he bought her) out-out of diamonds, so…

0:45 Q: What it’s like wearing a face (mask - though in video it's funnily shown) J: It’s not a mask, it’s a freaking face! Do people think I’m wearing a freaking mask on my face? MEG!! I’m kidding. You’re cute tho. You know what it’s like—do you ever put a onesie on right out of the dryer? (whisper) it’s like that. (normal volume) It’s cosy. It just feels right. And a cool thing about wearing a face is – you can swap them out with however many people you kill in course of an afternoon or a week or whatever. You get off that face – you put on another one! (laughs mid-sentence) It’s fantastic. I can look at whoever. I could look like you Meg if I wanted to. I might later. Wear your face.

1:43 Q: Boxers or briefs? J: Commando!

1:50 Q: What dead celebrity would you bring back? J: Tom Cruise. (learning he is still alive) He’s not dead. Oh. Well-well let’s kill him and then I can bring him back to life or whatever.

2:10 -2:52 (Off top) J: Where did you get these pretzels Meg: From the Hyperion vending machine J: They’re delicious. (long silence) They’re good. (longer) I promise someone will clean it up – my God that’s what happens If you drink beer at lunch, people!

(….) J: Pandorian, people are dumb but loyal. M: I’m loyal sir. I’m very, very very- J: Nah, so much of this. M: Oh yes, sir.

2:15 (Answer 3:25) Q: Do people recognise your voice in public? J: I’m all over the fucking place. I’m in megaphones, I’m in-in like convenience store, vending machines so—yeah. Yeah uh, I have to say. Yeah.

3:48 Q: Favourite type of weapon? J: What do you think, Meg? M: Uhh-anything that kills, sir. J: Well, I would say Hyperion would be a good start, wouldn’t you. M: (louder, nervously) That would be a very good start. J: There you go. Smart… uh. (Awkward horrible silence he prob wanted to say ‘smart girl’ and im glad he didn’t say it cus Jesus Christ man how much cringe can you spout out of your mouth). Anything made by Hyperion and anything that and anything that inflicts, like you said. Fairness to you. The most damage possible.

4:09 Q: (person wanted a greeting for her cat Tunses) J: Hey Tunses.

4:30 Q: Which Vault Hunter do you hate the least and which the most? J: I try not to play favourites. I hate them all the same. M: They’re all pretty terribl- J: (growling) They’re all equally hateable. M: They’re all pretty terrible. (you go girl say your lines) J: Each and every one of them. M: They all want to kill you, sir. J: God I hate them so much.

(Off top) J: (soft laugh) I enjoy your company M: You would make a great voice actor, sir. J: You know I’ve heard that! Yeah yeah yeah – people tell me sh# t all the time. You know. Like : , uh- I (chuckles) get that you, babe- M: You can cook, sir?! J: I- uh, um, I, uh – yeah. I'm really quite handy in the kitchen. M: Yeah? J: Yeah. M: What do you like to make sir. J: I find it- I find it z-zens me out after coming home and washing all the blood out of my clothes.

5:25 Q: Why are you so perfect? J: I don’t know, ask my mom. (pause) You can’t – you can’t because she’s dead, I killed her – but if she was alive, you could ask my mom.

(offtop) J: (playing the game) Where is my oxygen level? M: So, your oxygen level isssss – where the hell is it? J; Come on Meg – I cannot with your (Meg breaks out laughing) you stupid little sh#t like this (they both laugh) and you’re letting me dooown. M: Oh my God I’m the worst!! J: No it’s right over (chin upfront sounding voice idk how else to call him becoming a goblin) it’s right over there, did your little brain fall out of your head, Meg? M: Sorry, should be on your map. J: (genuine soft sounding) Why am I so mean to you? M: I don’t know, sir. J: (still soft, but cool persona) AAA that’s cus of what- that’s what I do.

J: How does Handsome Jack butt slam? M: I think youuuu- J: Anyway he likes (laughs) M: (chuckles) Yes, yes, exactly- J: Joke right there. Welcome

(…) J: That’s what the hip kid say. Instead of , they say (he becomes sonic and laughs like him). Did you know that? M: No, sir J: Yeah. That’s what they do.

(…) M: (after Jack killed a few monsters) Good job! J: Thank you Meg! Thank you for being such a loyal supporter. M: Absolutely sir: J: Really appreciate you, Meg. M: You do sir??? J: Claptrap (HEEEELP THE TIMING??? WHY DOES HE SAY THIS) M: That’s great. Oh- J: I appreciate you Claptrap.

(…) J: Gotta get some things- M: Yes. J: Gotta get some uh- hopefully some grenades. I love- I love the grenades! I got to say, I’m a huge fan (starts chuckling) blowing sh#t up.

7:25 Q: Is Handsome Jack happy? J: (laughs) That’s a great question. It’s deep, isn’t it? Um, there’s a lot of smiling going on here (chuckle) but really, I’m dead inside. It seems like everything I say has just a weird connotation to it. Some kind of inappropriate connotation to it. (sincere) Did you- did you ever noticed that? M: No, sir. J: Good answer! (laughs)

(Offtop) J: Ah for f#ck sake (kills a skag) M: That’s where you’re supposed to go. J: That’s – so I got to go outside. M: Yeah, you have to go outside. J: So you were right. Before. First time for everything, Claptrap. M: Yes. Yes sir. J: Yes siiiir.

(…) M: You’re doing great, sir. J: Atta girl. (pause) I got- I got to stop saying that. (laughs) Okay (nervous chuckles continue) M: And you got another badass rank so you can use that as well. J: Oh, okay – that’s see- now that is some useful information. M: (joyful and surprised) Really?? J: Yeah!

(…) J: (Asks about a game feature. Ben, someone out of the mic, answers before Meg in a monotone voice) Why is Ben so much smarter than you. Ummm- (nervous chuckle turning into silent cry-laugh between Meg and him) M: I’m doing my best sir. J: Ay-ay.

(…) J: What the f that just happened here. That just- I just picked that and now I can-okay. M: You have- you have- you have multiple. So it-do-does it— J: Oh, you’re God, how do you make so much sense when you say things. (…) J: (talking about enemy name pronounciation) Had to do an r-roll with that criiiticic crrrretin (??? im sorry I cant hear it well 9:15 pls help ) M: That’s very – that’s very fancy, sir. J: Mmm. You know what I am? M: What are you? J: I’m so fancy. M: You’re- J: I’m schmancy. (Meg snickers) You cut that one out too, Ben. That was- that was some bullsh#t (laughs) M: You’re so fancy, we already know.

(…) J: (About game dialogue) I don’t know who that is but I find them (emphasis) extrrrRRREMELY annoying. M: Oh they are the Vault Hunters si- J: (immediately) God they’re f#cking annoying, aren’t they. M: They are really, really annoyin- J: I feel like they’re trying too hard, that’s the thing. That’s the thing that’s standing out for me here. M: Yes, I think you should kill them. J: It’s one thing to be naturally funny and then there’s another – it’s another thing to- to be like – you know what I mean like – put yourself out there too much, feel like you’re overcompensating is the world I’m looking for. M: Don’t think you have to worry about that at all. J: (smooth convo swap) You know what I’m liking the most about this game? M: What do you like- J: The lack of Claptrap. M: Oh-uh, well, he is, he’s in here, if you want to- J: Listen, that’s fine – I’m in a good mood run right now, you don’t have to ruin it byyy talking about how I’m going to run into Claptrap. M: (silence) Okay sir. I’ll be quiet, sir. (pause) Yes. (pause) OH!! There’s Claptrap (in-game) Claptrap: HELLOOO- J: Oh you little son of a b#tch. Welcome to the pit of pseudo-solid sorrows, that is some alliteration. That’s a literary term for (long sign) all you people that didn’t finish school. Meg. Arena – of, partially see-through Triumph, the Hippodrome of marginally tangible everything else. (quieter) Do that make any sense to you? M: (joyful) No sir.

(…) Axton (in-game): Is it going to be a LONG story? Gaige (in-game): Yeah, just give us the Bluff’s Notes. J: (Jack is mimicking Axton’s voice) Wait, is it going to be a loooooong story? M: Yeah, they just keep talking- J: Axton is a handsome guy. M: Kinda looks like you sir- J: A little TOO handsome, if you ask me. M: He’s not as handsome as you. J: Well- I mean (chuckles) good luck with that, right. M: I mean, he might sort of be but- J: Oi! (pause) Slow your roll, sister. All right – wait, I was too busy talking, cus I love the sound of my own voice, now the f#ck am I doing? Am I loaded for bear? (Meg is trying to talk) Oh wait- M: I feel you are. No, you’re full (on amo), oh- J: Oh yeah, okay. That’s what she said. (immediately quickly nervously) Joking there. Okay if you want to, TAKE IT MAG feel free take it. M: No, that’s- J: (forceful) TAKE the joke, MAAG. M: I-I- J: Take the joke or you’re fired, Mag – or wait actually – take the joke or I’ll set you on fire, Meg. M: (playful) That’s what she said, yeah? J: God it just-it just sounds so much better coming from you for some reason.

(…) J: I think living on the moon would kind of suck. M: Why? J: I mean uh- I mean if you had to run like this all the time, you’d think it would be more advantageous or better than uhh, running –uh, say with like, uh, gravity? M: (smacks lips) Yeah, but you can do- J: Yeah but gravity Meg, is something it’s-it’s a force of energy that keeps the- it’s the Earth and the moon create, and it keeps things on the… neverm- ff, M: That was a great explanation, sir. J: (defeated) That’s fine. M: I have no idea what the hell you just said. J: (chuckles) It’s really – it was really scientific, wasn’t it? - M: It’s a thing! J: It’s a thing with the… M: I think it’s a good place to wrap this up.

(….) J: You want to do another-another thing? M: Uhh, I don’t, I don’t think we have time to do another thing, sir. J: Is that because I’m so busy and important that I have to go do stuff that is, I have people to do, and places to see- M: You’re- J: Places to see and people- I mean, places to go, people to see, things to do. M: All that. J: Yeah. M: All that more. J: Correct (laugh) Well listen, kids, first of all – you’re welcome, because this has been a real treat. Sorry about- what was your name again? M: Meg. J: Yeah, she tries real hard but uhh- let’s face it. Uhhh I don’t know. We will see. M: Thanks. J: You still might get a retirement package out of this. M: Oh- that’s great. That’s uhh- J: But it’s been a lot of fun, will go to build homeless shelters, and, (pause and rapid speech) dig wells. M: In Africa. J: Yep. M: And by Africa, we mean Africa on Pandora. J: (giggle) Yes.

#borderlands #handsome jack #transcript #ign #video #meg #bl2 #MEG IS SO COOL #This is such an interesting thing. Meg knows how to play with him. She mimicks his speech patterns (stutters and repeats) and #She both kisses his ass and also stands for herself sometimes. Is a douche. And he becomes kind #He has a type - assertive people. Playful. They go with him in these games but also can do their own shit.#All of people he hold close - Timothy Rhys Moxxi or Nisha were like that. Eat a bit but still show they are their own #He wants to love. He is scared. But he also is a massive douche. I love it sm

50 notes · View notes

coffeeadict61 · 1 year ago

Text

Trainee's questions

Report #308

Topic: New Trainee (Human Observer #8902)

I was authorized with training a new transfer as a Human Observer and the candidate had many some questions. I do not have the time to answer such things in one meeting so I am making a request that the Human Resources department send him the necessary pamphlets. Here is the list,

• why do humans pet everything alive or fake?

•why do they care if you eat their food?

•why are dead plants romantic?

•why do some people not experience sensual or romantic feelings?

•why are they so indecisive?

•why are some loud and others silent?

• what is "rizz"?

•why shouldn't I say certain words?

• why aren't they able to survive on their planet anymore?

•why is a "Austrian artist" important to their history?

•What is the color "yellow"?

• what in the universe is a platypus?!

• is God real?

•why do they have so many types of church?

•why is Tom Cruise so short?

• why do their plants scream?

•why do they hate each other?

•why do they hate themselves?

•why did the "great war" not end war?

•why are they so likable?

•How do they get blue eyes?

•why are blue eyes weaker?

•how many stomachs do they have?

•why do they remove apart of their throat so they can sleep?

• do they have to do that every night?

•how do fake teeth work?

•why do gender reveals that burn down countries exist?

•why don't they just cut a cake?

Good luck HR.

Human Observer #5743

#humans are space orcs #humans are weird #aliens #space #human observer in training #hope you enjoy:)#some hard hitting questions today folks

163 notes · View notes

ghosttotheparty · 1 year ago

Text

a mess of holy things 11 also on ao3 // prev // next cw: slight dumbification; brief gagging/choking; they’re both Kinda Weird

“No, I’m telling you it’s not something I can tell you about in public.”

“I’m aware,” Robin retorts, keys jingling as she leads Steve down the hallway. “I just think you could lower your voice if you tried really hard.”

“It’s not my volume I’m worried about,” Steve says, scoffing. “I just know you’re going to scream or something.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m so calm. All the time.”

“Lies.”

She makes a noise that means she’s sticking her tongue out at him as she unlocks her door, and he follows her inside, looking around. There are two beds on the opposite end of the room, facing opposite directions, and Steve doesn’t even have to ask to know which side of the room is Robin’s.

Her bed is unmade, a colourful quilt folded back to reveal white and yellow striped sheets. Her pillowcases are mismatched, one dark blue and the other spotted with bumblebees. There are posters on the wall above her bed, but Steve doesn’t recognize any of the people on them. His eyes skim the words, the letters all bold, loud. Sonic Youth, Green Day, Sex Pistols.

Robin kicks off her shoes and nudges them toward her desk, where they join her other shoes, scuffed and dirty Converse All-Stars and worn leather boots with mismatched laces, one shoe yellow and the other purple. Steve copies her as they drop their backs, looking at her desk. It’s a little cluttered, pens scattered across it, an origami bird on a small stack of books. There are post-its on the wall in front of her desk, colorful and vibrant. Her handwriting is messy.

Robin throws herself onto her bed as Steve takes off his jacket, looking at the other side of the room. There are a few posters but nowhere near as many as Robin has. One is of a handsome man, smiling softly, and when Steve looks closer, he finds text on the corner of it that reads Tom Cruise. Another is of a few teenagers all posing together with The Breakfast Club at the bottom.

The bed is made neatly, the blanket soft pink and tucked in. The pillows have matching pillowcases, also pink with lacy frills, and there’s a teddy bear resting against them.

“Steve,” Robin says sharply from her bed. “Stop looking around like you’re in a museum and tell me what’s up.”

Steve exhales heavily and goes to her bed, tossing his jacket to land on her desk chair as he falls onto his back in front of her.

“I don’t know how to say it.”

“Words would be preferable.”

He scoffs and sits up, moving to sit cross-legged, tugging at the quilt so it’s not folded against his leg.

“Okay, I…”

His face is already hot, and Robin is already grinning, and he hates this.

“Did you fuck?” she says excitedly, and he groans loudly.

“Okay, we— No, we didn’t have sex, we…” He pauses, face hot, cheeks sore from smiling so widely. Robin’s eyes are wide and shining as she grins at him, shifting so she’s kneeling across from him, bouncing up and down. “We did… something. It wasn’t sex. It was…”

“Tell me,” she says giddily. “Tell me, tell me, tell me.”

“Okay, I…” He covers his face, sighing heavily. “I was— I was curious. So I asked if he… does it.”

“Masturbates,” Robin says pointedly, and he rolls his eyes, letting his head fall back.

“Yes. That.”

“Okay,” she says, eyebrows raised.

“And he said he does. So I…” He winces, looking away, squishing his cheeks between his palms. She reaches out and pokes him. “I asked if I could see.”

She stares at him, jaw dropped, grinning widely.

“So he jerked off in front of you?”

“…Yeah?”

She claps a hand over her mouth, staring and staring and staring, and he waits, still wincing.

“Oh my God,” Robin says brightly when she drops her hand. “You’re kinky.”

“…I don’t know what that means.”

She lets out a loud squeal, covering her face before she falls onto her back, cackling. She kicks her legs out, and Steve dodges them, laughing.

“God, I am so glad I get to be your sex ed teacher,” she says when she finally calms down, sitting up.

“I’ve had sex ed,” he says. “I just… I’m just inexperienced.”

“Oh, I know,” she says. “Look. Kinks are things that people especially like during sexy times. If you can think of anything, someone’s got a kink for it.”

Steve pauses.

“Okay.”

“So your man— Wait, what’s his name again?”

“Eddie,” Steve says bashfully, suppressing a smile.

“Eddie…” Robin coos. “So Eddie jerkin’ it while you watch is called voyeurism, and it's a whole thing.”

Steve blinks. Processes.

“Are… Are kinks only sexual?” he asks hesitantly.

“Generally,” Robin says, tilting her head. “They can be non-sexual, I guess. Why?”

Steve looks at her, pausing.

“We, uhm…”

Her eyes somehow widen even more, and she leans forward, bouncing up and down again.

“Tell me.”

“He spits in my mouth.”

She gawks, and his face flushes with heat again. There’s a long stretch of silence as Robin’s mouth stretches into a slow smile.

“You’re kinky,” she says again.

“Oh my God—”

He shoves at her, but she catches his arm, tugging him so he falls against her, and their limbs tangle as they laugh. Her mouth is right by his ear, and it’s so loud it hurts, but he’s never laughed like this with anyone before. He laughs so hard his stomach hurts and his cheeks are sore, and the two of them roll over so Robin is on top of him. She tries to sit up by pushing on his face, and he squeezes his eyes shut so her fingers don’t poke them.

It takes a long while for them to finally calm down and separate, untangling their legs and pushing each other away as they catch their breath. But every time their eyes meet, they burst into giggles again. They’re both red-faced, and Steve’s stomach hurts, but he feels light, like he doesn’t have to worry about anything at all.

And they keep giggling as they talk, sitting against the wall, hugging Robin’s pillows to themselves. Robin talks him through a lot, stumbling through words and definitions and hypothetical scenarios, which makes Steve kind of want to die, but she’s so casual about it all that he can’t really even be embarrassed.

“Okay, look,” she says finally, her knees drawn to her chest, looking at him intently. “The point is, it doesn’t matter if you know what you’re doing or not, right? As long as everything is cool with both of you, it’s all fine. There’s nothing wrong with anything you like.”

Steve nods, looking down.

“Steve,” Robin says, leaning toward him. Their shoulders touch. “There’s nothing wrong with it.”

“I know,” Steve says softly, eyes still downcast.

“Do you?”

Steve is quiet, pausing. His fingers twist in his lap, and he squeezes, forcing his knuckles to crack.

“I do,” he says quietly. “I just… It’s hard sometimes.”

Robin sighs softly, and she lets her head fall to rest on his shoulder. No one’s ever laid on Steve’s shoulder before.

He lays his head on Robin’s, closing his eyes.

He can smell her shampoo. It’s sweet and citrusy, and it somehow smells more like home than the hallway of his parents’ house.

“Eddie knows about it,” Steve says after a few quiet moments. “That I… I don’t know. Struggle with it. He actually noticed first.”

“How?” Robin asks, almost whispering, her head shifting so she can sit closer.

“He, uhm…” He hesitates. “We were kissing, and I just… I don’t know. Panicked.”

“What happened?”

Somehow he knows her eyes are closed too.

“He kind of noticed I was freaking out first, and he… asked if I was okay. So we stopped, and I… I couldn’t really breathe, and I just felt so… Bad.” He pauses, and Robin is quiet, waiting patiently. “He helped me calm down and then he… said to take my time.”

“He sounds really great,” Robin says softly after a moment.

“God, he is.”

“You love him?”

Steve scoffs. His throat is suddenly tight.

“Fuck, maybe.”

Robin coos, poking him in the side, and he giggles, slumping over and trying to dodge her as she pokes at him again, and again, and again, until he’s laughing so hard his eyes are squeezed shut and he’s falling onto his side. Robin climbs on top of him, digging her fingers into his ribs. He tries to push her off, but her legs are tight around him, pinning him in place.

He snatches one of her pillows and swings it at her, but she grabs it and shoves it in his face, muffling his laughter.

He finally manages to sit up when she cackles, and he pushes her onto her back. Steve smacks her hands away, his face hot as they jostle on the mattress, and neither of them hear the door open until there’s a gasp before it slams shut.

Robin tilts her head back to look at the door upside down, and she laughs loudly.

“We’re not fucking, Nance!” she calls loudly, and Steve bursts into laughter again, rolling off of her and leaning against the wall again as the door opens again.

“Well I didn’t look long enough to know,” a girl says as she comes inside, making a face at Robin, who sits up and tosses her hair out of her face. The girl looks like Robin’s polar opposite: her hair is styled perfectly, curls into neat spirals, bangs spread across her forehead, and she’s wearing a plaid skirt that reaches her knees with a loose, fluffy-looking cardigan. She’s carrying some books in her arms.

“Steve, Nancy, Nancy, Steve,” Robin says. “Roommate. Best friend.”

“I’m your best friend?” Steve says, looking at her as Nancy toes her shoes off with a scoff. She sets her books on her desk, watching them.

“Unfortunately, yeah.”

“That’s sad.”

They’re distracted by someone else coming through the door after Nancy, and Robin lights up.

“Jonny boy!”

“Robin,” he says dryly, his voice smooth and calm. He doesn’t look like someone that would be hanging out with Nancy, his hair falling in his face, his shirt unbuttoned and dishevelled, but he kicks his shoes off without sorting them neatly like Steve did, and then he goes to Nancy’s bed and flops onto his back, sighing heavily. Nancy rolls her eyes.

“Steve, that’s Jonathan,” Robin says, pointing at him like Steve can’t find him.

“Hi, Jonathan.”

“Hi, Steve.”

Robin rolls onto her stomach, looking across the room as Nancy takes off her cardigan and drapes it over the back of her desk chair. Steve clicks his tongue and smacks her leg when she kicks him.

“Robin,” a voice sings from the doorway, and Robin gasps as another boy comes in, his long hair billowing behind him. He looks nothing like Nancy or Jonathan; he’s wearing vibrant, tie-dyed pants and a teal and blue striped hoodie, and his pants are rolled up to reveal colorful socks that are spotted with smiley faces.

“Argyle,” Robin sings back, tilting her head back to look at him upside down, and Steve cracks a smile, watching, amused. She attempts to wave at Argyle, but she ends up waving at Steve, disoriented from being upside down.

Argyle tosses something to her with a bright, cartoonish whistle, and it lands on her stomach as she gasps, sitting up to look at it and look at it. It’s a package of gummy bears, and Robin lets out an excited noise like she’s a little kid.

“Ugh, Argyle, you’re the love of my life.”

Argyle lets out a wry laugh and he plops himself onto the ground, grinning up at Robin.

“I love you, too, broski.” His eyes look at Steve, brightening even more somehow, even though his eyes still seem to be at half-mast. “Are you Steve?”

“I am,” Steve says lightly.

“You’re so cool, man.”

“…Thanks?”

“I talk about you a lot,” Robin says, already ripping open the gummy bear bag.

“Is that a good thing?”

“Only heard good things so far, my guy,” Argyle says, his voice slow and sage.

“Are you guys already high?” Robin asks, glancing up at Jonathan, tugging the head of a red gummy bear off with her teeth. She holds the bag out to Steve, who takes a few after looking. Jonathan just giggles at the ceiling. “Oh, that’s a yes.”

“I drove,” Nancy says dryly, rummaging through a drawer. “Don’t worry— Jon, where did you put the edibles?”

“I don’t remember.”

Nancy huffs and rolls her eyes.

“You need to stop keeping your shit in my room.”

“They search the guys’ dorms more often than they search the girls’.”

“Not my problem.”

“It would be, because then you wouldn’t have weed.”

“…’S true.”

Steve watches them all curiously, how easily they exchange their words, leaning against the wall, drawing his knees to his chest, nibbling one of the gummy bears in his hand. Jonathan keeps giggling at the ceiling, splayed out like a starfish over Nancy’s bed, his worn and ragged flannel contrasting the soft shades of pink of her bedspread. Nancy sits on her desk chair as they talk, her skirt primly draping over her legs before she gradually leans back, relaxing, swinging her feet in the air. Argyle leans against the side of Nancy’s bed, and he gets distracted by Jonathan’s hand dangling over the side of the bed. He tangles his own fingers with Jonathan’s, smiling softly, playing with his hand quietly.

Nancy is a journalism major, Steve learns after a while.

She complains about one of her teachers, who keeps contradicting his own instructions, telling them to do one thing and then demonstrating by doing the opposite. She groans in frustration, looking up at the ceiling, letting her head fall back, and then she gets up and goes over to her bed. Steve watches curiously as she flops on top of Jonathan, who catches her with a startled Oof! before he wraps his arm around her, keeping his other hand down to hold Argyle’s.

“What do you study, Jonathan?” Steve asks, watching the way he runs his hand over Nancy’s curls and then down her back absently. Her face is hidden in his shoulder.

“Film and photography,” Jonathan says, his eyes visible over Nancy’s hair.

“Like movies and stuff?”

“Mmhmm.”

“God, that sounds so much more interesting than business.”

“You study business?” Argyle says like he’s aghast.

“Yeah?”

“Nah, man,” he says disappointedly, shaking his head in a way that makes it look like he’s dancing, swaying his hair back and forth. “You’re an artist, dude.”

“Am I?” Steve says, tossing a gummy bear in his mouth as Robin snorts.

“Oh, yeah,” Argyle says seriously, nodding. “I can feel it. There’s art in your heart.”

Steve hums thoughtfully.

“That’s nice,” he says lightly. Argyle nods in agreement. Robin snickers into Steve’s shoulder.

─────────────────

Eddie’s fingers drag through Steve’s hair slowly, catching on tangles and undoing them.

His other hand is on Steve’s throat, holding him loosely, lazily, his thumb stroking over Steve’s Adam’s apple, and he smiles when Steve hums softly.

Steve’s legs are across his lap, his hands tucked between the two of them. His fingers are curled into the fabric of Eddie’s t-shirt, pulling him back every time they part for breath. He feels like he’s floating, like the inside of his head is full of cotton, shivering from the slick sounds of their mouths.

“Alright?” Eddie whispers softly when they part with simultaneous gasps. Steve nods, tugging at his shirt, and he’s probably stretching the collar out, but Eddie doesn’t complain.

“Yes,” Steve breathes. “Feels good.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm.”

Eddie’s thumb strokes his throat again, and his nose nudges against Steve’s.

“Like making you feel good,” he murmurs. “My sweet boy.”

Steve nods even though Eddie didn’t ask him a question, and Eddie’s hand tightens on his throat. Steve keens, his head falling back a little bit, his lips parting to let out a weak noise.

“So beautiful,” Eddie breathes, and Steve’s eyes flutter open. His vision is blurry as he finds Eddie in front of him, and his lips curve into a smile. Eddie grins, jostling him back and forth gently by his neck. Steve’s smile grows.

Eddie’s lips are reddened and shining. His hair is a little tousled, and his cheeks are pink, and Steve’s stomach flutters.

“What are you thinking?” Eddie asks, touching their foreheads together, playing with Steve’s hair. Steve shrugs a little bit, closing his eyes, and he sighs, breathing Eddie in. He had a cigarette on the way home from work. Steve can smell it, but he doesn’t hate it the way he used to.

He sighs again, his hands shifting on Eddie’s shirt. When he tugs the collar down a little bit, he can see the edges of the tattoos on his chest.

His lips part to speak, but he stops himself.

“What is it?” Eddie whispers, because he doesn't miss anything.

“I…” He hesitates, cheeks flushing with heat, and he fidgets with Eddie’s shirt, tugging it down until he can see the head of the crow. “I touched myself. Thinking about you.”

He hesitates again before he meets Eddie’s eyes, head still ducked, bashful, and Eddie is smiling, head tilted like he’s fond.

“Did you like it?” he asks softly.

Steve nods.

He runs his fingertip over the top of the crow’s head, traces the feathers, and he bites his lip.

“It felt good,” he says quietly.

Eddie hums, running his fingers through Steve’s hair.

“Did you come?”

Steve shakes his head, meeting his eyes again. Eddie holds the back of his head and leans in to kiss him gently. Steve sighs as Eddie lingers there, kissing him slowly, nudging their noses together.

“Why?” Eddie whispers, and Steve shrugs again, running his finger over the crow again, touching Eddie’s chest. He’s so soft.

“Started freaking out,” he says softly. “Panicking.”

Eddie hums quietly, kissing him again, and Steve moves closer, letting his lips part for Eddie’s tongue, pulling at his shirt. Eddie tilts his head, fingers pressing into the side of Steve’s neck, squeezing gently, like he’s trying to reassure him that he’s there.

“Do you want to?” he whispers against Steve’s mouth. Steve exhales.

And nods.

Eddie kisses him harder, deeper, holding the back of his head, pushing his fingers into his hair, and Steve lets out a weak whine.

“I don’t know how,” Steve says when they part, gasping for breath. His lips brush Eddie’s.

“Got an idea,” Eddie whispers. Steve’s stomach flutters. “You know your colors?”

“Yes,” Steve breathes.

“Come sit on my lap, baby.” Eddie pulls away, leaning against the back of the sofa, and Steve is helpless to follow, stumbling over himself as he untangles his limbs from Eddie’s so he can find his place on his lap, knees on either side of his hips. Eddie’s hands find his waist, squeezing. “Okay?”

“Mhmm,” Steve hums softly. “Like sitting here.”

“I know,” Eddie says, smiling. “Me too.”

Steve lowers his head and kisses him, sighing, relaxing against his chest, tugging at the collar of his shirt again before he pulls away.

“Eddie?”

“Yeah, baby,” Eddie says softly, almost purring. Steve could swoon.

“Can you… Can you take your shirt off?”

Eddie smiles, his eyes dark and shining.

“Yeah, ‘course.”

He has to lean toward Steve to get his shirt off, tugging it out from where it’s caught between his back and the sofa, and Steve waits, heart pounding in his chest as Eddie’s skin is revealed.

He’s paler than Steve is, and in the dim light of the lamp and the shifting lights of the city outside, he looks like he’s glowing. His skin is marked with dark ink, and Steve gazes, in awe, tracing it with light, tentative fingertips. Eddie waits patiently, looking up at him.

There’s a dragon across his stomach, its wings stretching over to his waist, its tail dipping into the hair that’s sneaking up from under the waistband of his sweatpants. Its scales look delicate somehow, despite the bold, black lines it’s drawn in.

“His name is Dorian,” Eddie says, watching Steve stare, and a laugh bursts out of Steve. He looks up at Eddie, whose eyes are sparkling at him.

“Really?”

“Mmhmm. Isn’t he pretty?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, pressing his hand over Dorian, spreading his fingers to take up as much space as possible, watching Eddie’s eyelashes flutter. “Pretty.”

He kisses Eddie, sucking on his lower lip, and Eddie hums affirmatively, a hand pressing into the small of his back. Steve’s breath catches in his throat as he slides his hands up Eddie’s chest to his shoulders, but his skin is smooth and soft and it feels so good that Steve’s hands can’t stay in place for long, sliding across his chest again.

“Tell me about it,” Eddie whispers between kisses. Steve’s breath catches again. “What’d you think about?”

“You,” Steve says breathlessly, hands finally coming to rest on the sides of Eddie’s neck. He can feel his heartbeat under his skin. It’s fast. “How you— How you touched yourself. How you touch me. How you talk to me.”

“How do I talk to you?” Eddie asks, like he doesn’t know, like he’s not doing it right now.

“Like I’m stupid,” Steve whispers.

“You know I don’t think you’re stupid,” Eddie says lightly, running his hands over his waist.

“You make me feel stupid,” Steve says weakly, looking at him. “Can’t even think— Fuck.”

Eddie smiles at him, and Steve feels like he’s overheating, his stomach fluttering. He closes his eyes, dropping his head, letting out a weak sound.

“Tell me what else, honey,” Eddie says softly, squeezing his waist, leaning in and tilting his head to kiss the side of his neck. Steve lets his head fall to the side, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s neck, shifting on his lap. “Come on, baby.”

Steve whines.

“I…”

“You…” Eddie teases against his neck, tongue brushing over his skin. “Hm?”

“Wanna be good for you,” Steve says weakly, lightheaded, his throat tight suddenly, holding the back of Eddie’s head, his other arm wrapped around him tightly. “Wanna be your good boy.”

Eddie groans quietly into Steve’s neck.

“You are,” he whispers, his voice right by Steve’s ear, his breath against his skin, cooling his own spit. “My good boy, my baby.”

Steve moans softly, shivering.

“Oh, shit.”

Eddie pulls back and looks down, gazing at where Steve’s dick is now tenting his sweatpants, and he smiles brightly, looking back up at him.

“Good boy,” he whispers, like Steve is in control of this, like he did it on purpose. He holds Steve’s cheek and guides him into a kiss. Steve kisses him desperately, messily, pushing a hand into Eddie’s curls, holding him tightly. “Go ‘head, baby,” Eddie breathes into his mouth.

“I don’t— I don’t know what I’m doing,” Steve confesses, even though he knows it’s obvious. It makes Eddie smile.

“Just do what feels good,” he whispers. He holding Steve’s hips and tugs, gently forcing him to press down against Eddie, and Eddie is hard too, and he’s pressing right against Steve, and—

“Oh, god—”

“Alright?” Eddie asks, and when Steve doesn’t respond, he squeezes his hips. “What’s your color, Stevie?”

“Green,” Steve gasps, shifting on Eddie’s lap again, rubbing against him, and he hugs Eddie’s neck. “Fuck, Eddie.”

“That’s it,” Eddie praises softly. “Feel good?”

“Mmhmm,” Steve hums, his voice too high, nodding. He’s desperate, hands shaking as they slide over Eddie’s chest, running over the soft hair on his skin. “Feels so good, Eddie.”

“Go a little harder,” Eddie instructs gently, pulling at Steve’s hips, his voice sweet and kind, and Steve is helpless. He follows directions blindly, his vision blurring, and he closes his eyes, rolling his hips harder, more confidently, because it feels good. Eddie’s breath catches in his throat. “There you go, good boy.”

Steve lets out a soft moan, rocking against him, humming when Eddie’s hand slides to the small of his back.

“Eddie,” he whines, and he doesn’t even recognize his own voice. Eddie nods, rubbing his back.

“You’re okay,” he says softly.

“‘M okay,” he says weakly, mumbling, breathless.

“‘S right, baby boy, I got you,” Eddie whispers. Steve whines again, shifting against him, eyes fluttering, his mouth falling open, and he’s going to start drooling again, he just knows it. But he’s barely in his own head right now, and he can’t think, and Eddie is making him fucking stupid. His hands pressing against his back, his tattoos, his skin, his hair, his voice, his dick—

“Eddie,” he chokes, flushing with heat, rolling his hips hard and staying down, pressing against Eddie, feeling how hard he is, feeling how much he wants Steve, and he lets out a noise he’s never made before. It rips its way out of his throat, and he’s embarrassed in spite of the grin that spreads across Eddie’s face.

“Fuck,” Eddie breathes before he lets out a quiet moan. “You’re okay, you’re doing so well, baby, I’m so proud of you.”

Steve’s eyes sting, and his lip quivers. Eddie nods, lifting a hand to touch his face, caressing his cheek, cradling him, and Steve feels delicate in a way only Eddie has ever made him feel. His eyes flutter shut, letting a tear fall down his cheek as his hips press to Eddie’s, slowly, rhythmically, steadily. Eddie’s thumb swipes over his chin, and Steve whimpers as he processes how slick it is.

Eddie smiles at him fondly, his other hand spread against the small of his back, tilting his head. His thumb, wet with Steve’s spit, brushes against his lower lip.

Steve’s jaw drops and he lowers his head, pressing his hands against Eddie’s chest, covering his tattoos with his palms, and Eddie’s smile widens. He presses his thumb into Steve’s mouth, nodding.

Steve lets his eyes fall shut, closing his mouth around Eddie’s thumb, sucking gently. Eddie’s fingers curl around his chin, holding him, nodding as Steve whines, grinding against him, almost rolling his body against Eddie’s. Eddie slides his thumb out a little bit before he presses it back in, sliding it over Steve’s tongue, and Steve’s eyes roll into his head.

Eddie laughs lightly, almost giggling, pressing his thumb into Steve’s tongue until it pushes his mouth open, and Steve lets out a guttural groan, hands sliding to Eddie’s waist. His fingertips press into his flesh.

“That feel good, baby?” Eddie says sweetly. Steve moans weakly, groaning a pathetic Yeah around his thumb. “You want more?”

Steve nods desperately.

“Go a little faster for me, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs, slipping his hand under the hem of Steve’s shirt. His hand is cold against Steve’s skin, but it still feels like it’s burning through him. Steve shifts his weight to his knees, lifting himself up to move faster, desperately. “Fuck, that’s good. Open your mouth for me.”

He’s breathless, and Steve whines, listening closely, opening his mouth, groaning as Eddie presses his index and middle fingers into his mouth. He’s so gentle, watching like he’s in awe as Steve sucks on them, holding Eddie’s waist tightly. Eddie presses them in and out, smiling proudly.

Steve catches his wrist as he starts to pull his fingers out, leaning forward so they slide back into place.

“Alright?” Eddie asks softly, whispering. Steve looks into his eyes, pulling his wrist, tilting his head down, forcing Eddie’s fingers in deeper until they’re nudging at his throat. And he sees stars.

His back arches as he suppresses a gag, and he closes his eyes, moaning loudly.

“Jesus fuck, Steve.”

“Mm.”

Steve’s spit is dripping over Eddie’s hand, and he briefly wishes Eddie was wearing his rings.

“You like that?” Eddie asks breathlessly, leaning up to kiss the side of Steve’s neck, biting gently. “You like my fingers in your throat, baby?”

“Yeah,” Steve gasps, and he feels debauched. Fully dressed and so hot he feels like he might die. Eddie’s fingers in his mouth, his dick pressed against Steve’s. His voice is muffled by Eddie’s fingers, slurred and mumbled. “Feels so good, Eds, I— I love your hands s’much.”

“Baby,” Eddie breathes. He slides his tongue up the side of his neck, slowly, lingering at his jaw, and Steve keens, whining, his head falling back, and he knows he’s being noisy, knows he hasn’t stopped making noises this entire time, desperate, weak, pathetic noises, but he can’t stop. Can’t shut himself up.

“Fuck, I— I need more.”

“Take it,” Eddie says, biting him. “Take what you need, Stevie, make yourself feel good.”

“Oh, God.”

“I got you, baby, you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” Steve says breathlessly as Eddie’s hand falls from his mouth. Eddie nods, lifting his fingers to his own mouth, sucking Steve’s spit off. Steve whines, leaning back and looking down at where they’re pressed together. The front of his sweatpants is tented, and there’s a damp spot. “Shit.”

“It’s okay,” Eddie tells him, reaching to hold his hips. “I got you, babydoll, you’re doing so good for me.”

Steve shivers, pressing against him harder, biting his lip, whining again, and he knows it sounds like he hates it, but he doesn’t, he fucking wants it, so, so so, badly. He sounds pathetic, whimpering and whining and crying as he uses Eddie’s body, as Eddie lets him. He wraps his arms around Eddie’s neck, hugging him tightly, moving against him desperately, whining loudly, his voice high in his throat.

“Eddie—”

“Yeah, baby,” Eddie gasps, pressing a hand into the arch of his back.

“Fuck, it’s so much, it’s so much, Eddie, I—”

“What’s your color, Stevie?” Eddie checks, pulling back to look into his eyes.

“Green,” Steve gasps, grabbing at Eddie’s hair. “Green, don’t fucking stop, baby, please, it— it feels so good.”

“Jesus.”

Steve sobs, pressing his forehead to Eddie’s, gasping for breath, trembling.

“You’re so close,” Eddie says softly, encouragingly. “You’re gonna come, baby boy, don’t stop.”

“Fuck, I don’t wanna stop,” Steve cries. “I don’t wanna stop, I wanna come for you, Eddie, please, please—”

“Come for me, baby,” Eddie whispers, nipping at his earlobe. “Come on, Stevie, baby, you got it.”

Steve whines, hugging Eddie’s neck, hiding his face, but Eddie pushes him back, lifting his chin and pulling him into a messy kiss. Steve groans low in his throat, clutching at him, breathing hard, letting out another sob.

He presses down harder, reaching back, his hand landing on Eddie’s knee, and he leans back, using it as a sort of leverage as he moves against Eddie. His eyes squeeze shut for a moment as he swirls his hips, groaning as Eddie’s hand finds his neck, holding him gently.

“Fuck,” Eddie says breathlessly, watching, eyes wide and dark. “‘S my boy, good job.”

“Eddie, fuck—”

“Come for me, baby.”

Steve moans, his eyes rolling into his head as his body flushes with heat, and it’s like the sky is opening up above him, like the stars are bathing him in their light, and Eddie’s hands are holding him, fingers wrapped around his throat. And Steve kind of feels like he might be dying, like this is it, like this is all he’s been waiting for. Like everything in his life has been leading to this moment.

He knows this isn’t it, that he has days coming after this, that the sun will rise in the morning, and as his head falls to Eddie’s shoulder, the thought wraps around him in the form of Eddie’s arms. And then he’s smiling into Eddie’s neck, humming weakly, his voice breaking.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asks softly, running a hand over his back, voice painted with worry. And Steve’s head feels like it’s filled with cotton and dust, but he does his best to respond, nodding.

“‘M okay.”

“God, Steve.”

Steve whines, pressing closer, sliding his hands over Eddie’s chest. He still feels warm, and he’s still squirming in Eddie’s lap, shifting his hips against Eddie, who’s still hard. It feels nice, even though it’s a little overwhelming to Steve, and he doesn’t stop, even as Eddie’s hands find his hips, holding him gently.

“You’re amazing,” Eddie whispers. Steve’s smile widens, and he rubs his nose against the side of Eddie’s neck, making him giggle.

“I’m so…”

Steve trails off, exhaling heavily, shifting again, and Eddie hugs him.

“So…”

“…I don’t know,” he whispers. “I’m like… Tired. But ’s good.”

“You feel good?”

“Mm. Feels good.”

He hears Eddie laugh softly, running a hand across the small of his back.

“‘S sticky,” Steve mumbles absently, and Eddie laughs again, turning his head to kiss Steve’s temple. “Cold.”

“Wanna show me?”

Steve suppresses a sleepy smile and sits up, pausing briefly to press a kiss to Eddie’s jaw, and he hums when he sits up straight, arching his back to stretch it. Eddie watches, eyes shining with something Steve is starting to understand. Something he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to.

He looks down at the darkened spot on the front of his sweatpants, and he hesitates for just a moment before he hooks his thumbs on the waistband and tugs it out of the way,

Eddie tilts his head to look, and Steve’s cheeks are lit aflame by humiliation as he reaches to tug at the front of his waistband. Steve’s come is sticking to his boxers, messy and gross, but Eddie just smiles, looking up at Steve, who’s looking away, embarrassed.

“Good boy,” Eddie says quietly, whispering, lifting his chin to prompt Steve to lower his head close enough to kiss him, and Steve does, exhaling and closing his eyes, letting his lips part for Eddie’s tongue to slip between them. “Baby.”

“Mm.”

Eddie lets go of the waistband, letting it snap against his skin, and Steve snorts, cheeks warm.

“Wanna go take a shower and clean up?” Eddie asks softly.

Steve hesitates, his head ducked shyly. He does want to take a shower. He feels kind of gross (in a way that he finds he doesn’t completely mind), and a shower would be nice, but the idea of being away from Eddie, of a door between them, makes him feel cold.

“…Will you come with me?” he asks quietly, looking to meet Eddie’s eyes. Eddie’s head is tilted like he’s curious, and he lifts a hand to touch his face.

“You sure?” he whispers.

Steve nods. He’s sure. He wants it.

To stand under the spray of water with Eddie, their skin bare and exposed, wet and sliding across each other, their hair tangling.

He wants to see all of Eddie. Wants Eddie to see all of him.

Every bruise and faint scar, every shift of his muscles beneath his skin, every freckle and mole. He wants to see each of Eddie’s tattoos, wants to memorize them all, to see them every time he closes his eyes.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “Please.”

Eddie smiles up at him, eyes squinting as his cheeks rise, and it’s like he’s glowing. Steve’s chest aches.

Steve is wobbly when he stands, holding Eddie’s hands tightly, head fuzzy as he follows him slowly to the bedroom. He watches, leaning against a wall, as Eddie collects fresh clothes, and he knows Eddie is just grabbing clothes from his unorganized drawers, but he’s gazing, watching like he’s in awe, because Eddie’s just Eddie, just a man, just flesh and bone, but Steve feels like he’s on the verge of tears, watching him.

He’s so beautiful Steve’s whole body aches. He makes existing look so easy, tossing a freshly cleaned pair of boxers in the air and catching it with a silly flourish that makes Steve giggle, looking over his shoulder to smile at Steve with an ease that Steve longs for.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Eddie says as he takes Steve’s hand to lead him to the bathroom, his other arm holding their clothes, and Steve clings to his wrist, following him helplessly. Eddie’s hair shifts in the air as he walks, and Steve suddenly feels sick, and he needs to shut himself up before he says it—

He tugs at Eddie’s hand, and Eddie turns, lips already parted to speak, but Steve leans in to kiss him before he can say anything. Eddie hums, smiling against Steve’s mouth, fingers tightening on Steve’s. Steve doesn’t let him go far when they part for a breath, leaning in and catching Eddie’s lips again, because he needs to keep his mouth busy until the urge passes.

Because he knows it’s too soon.

Ridiculously, insanely too soon. He would be stupid to say it, especially now, making out with Eddie in the bathroom after coming in his pants so pathetically. (Eddie didn’t seem to mind, obviously.) But Eddie always makes Steve feel kind of stupid.

Steve groans into the kiss, stepping closer, tilting his head, letting his lips part. Eddie grins, opening his mouth, and Steve licks across his teeth, reaching to wrap his arms around his neck. Eddie drops the clothes onto the counter, and then his hands are pushing under Steve’s shirt, his fingertips cold, his palms warm, and Steve whines. He pushes Eddie toward the counter, and Eddie giggles when his back hits the edge of it, pressing a hand into the small of Steve’s back.

Steve’s eyebrows furrow and he tilts his head, burying a hand in Eddie’s hair and pulling as Eddie’s tongue slides into his mouth. Eddie lets out a soft sound, humming into Steve’s mouth, fingers pressing into Steve’s flesh in a way that would make Steve self conscious were it anyone else touching him, but Eddie’s hands make him feel beautiful.

He moves closer to Eddie, shifting so their bodies are locked, pressed together completely, and Steve’s breath catches in his throat when he realizes that Eddie is still hard, straining against the fabric of his sweatpants.

“Eds,” he mumbles, tugging at his hair again.

“Mm,” Eddie hums breathlessly. “Yeah, baby.”

“Can I touch you?”

Eddie kisses him again, nibbling on his lower lip, dragging his hand up and then down Steve’s back, his nails tracing his spine.

“You don’t have to,” he says softly. “‘S okay.”

“Wanna,” Steve says petulantly, licking into Eddie’s mouth. “Wanna make you come.”

“Fuck.”

Steve hums.

“May I?” he whispers between kisses.

“Go for it, honey.”

Steve grins into the kiss, biting his lip briefly before he pulls away and bites his own lip as their foreheads press. He looks down, reaching for the drawstring of Eddie’s sweatpants. He tugs them down, tracing the hem of his underwear hesitantly. The dragon’s tail dips under it, winding around the trail of hair that Steve pauses to pet, stroking gently.

“Alright?” Eddie whispers. Steve nods, slipping his fingertips under the waistband.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes.

“So are you,” Eddie whispers, kissing Steve’s forehead. “We’re a good-lookin’ couple, aren’t we?”

Steve giggles, looking up at Eddie shyly as he tugs his underwear down.

Eddie exhales when Steve touches him, and Steve gazes at him, sliding his hand over Eddie’s dick slowly, carefully. Eddie’s eyes close, his head falling back, when Steve tightens his hand. Steve smiles, tilting his head curiously.

“Does it feel good?” he asks softly after a while.

“Yeah, baby,” Eddie breathes. “Feels good. Love how you touch me.”

“I like touching you.”

Eddie lets out a soft noise, and Steve bites his lip, rubbing his thumb over the slit, looking at the way his own skin looks against Eddie’s. They are beautiful together.

He quickens his hand, squeezing, watching Eddie’s face, watching his lips part as he lets out a soft groan. His brows furrow and he grits his teeth like he’s wincing, like it hurts, but Steve knows it doesn’t. Because Eddie’s cheeks are flushed pink and he reaches to hold Steve’s neck, his palm to Steve’s throat.

Steve moans softly, letting his eyes flutter shut before he looks at him again.

Eddie is breathing heavily. He’s leaning back against the counter, and Steve watches his chest rise and fall with every breath. He looks down again, watches his hand shift up and down, watches Eddie’s skin become slick, and then he wants to taste it, wants Eddie’s dick in his mouth—

Which is a thing, he learned recently. Robin told him. Which could have been weird, but it was mostly just fun, sitting in Robin’s bed with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, chewing on gummy bears and giggling and gasping at everything she said. He learned lots of new words.

“Eddie,” he says quietly.

“Yeah,” Eddie says breathlessly.

“Can I use my mouth?”

Eddie’s eyes flutter open, and it takes a moment for his vision to focus.

“You want to?” he asks softly.

“Desperately.”

Eddie snorts, and he pulls Steve into a kiss by his throat, manhandling him forward, and Steve keens, melting against him, his hand pausing. Eddie’s teeth catch on Steve’s lip, tugging at it. Steve is breathless when they separate, and Eddie’s lips brush his when he speaks.

“Get on your knees.”

Steve’s stomach does a somersault. He moans.

He lowers to his knees slowly, mourning the loss of Eddie’s hand in his throat, but then he’s smiling because Eddie is pushing his underwear farther down, and Steve gazes at the safety pin on Eddie’s thigh.

“Pretty.”

“Thank you, baby.”

Steve leans forward and nuzzles against him, burying his nose in the hair at the base of Eddie’s dick, inhaling, sighing when Eddie’s fingers twist into his hair.

“You don’t have to,” Eddie whispers.

“Wanna.”

Eddie snorts, tugging at Steve’s hair gently, and Steve hums, finally lifting his hands to touch him, sliding his hands over his thighs, rubbing, squeezing, before he reaches for Eddie’s dick again, leaning his head back a little to look. When he squeezes, a bead of liquid appears, and he’s leaning in to lick it before he can even think.

“Shit,” Eddie breathes. “Mm.”

Steve hums, doing it again, closing his eyes. He listens to Eddie’s breathing become heavier, lingering close before he takes him into his mouth.

“Fuck, Steve,” Eddie says sharply. “So warm.”

Steve hums, sucking gently, and his head goes quiet. He reaches to hold Eddie’s hip, bobbing his head, humming weakly at the soft wet sounds that fill the air. His blood rushes, and his dick is filling out again. He pushes closer, longing for the feeling of Eddie’s dick sliding over the back of his tongue, for it to nudge too far down, where it shouldn’t go, where Steve wants it most.

He pulls away with a gasp, breathless, his chin slick with drool, his eyes half-shut like he’s sleepy.

“Want it in my throat,” he says absently, looking up at Eddie.

Eddie opens his eyes, looking at him. His cheeks are red, and he looks holy.

Steve melts, and he wants to cry. He falls to the side, legs folded under him like a mermaid basking in the sun, and he holds Eddie’s leg, looking up at him longingly. He wants to beg, to plead, and Eddie must see it on his face. He caresses his cheek, brushing his thumb under his eyes, and Steve turns into his palm, his lips parting to slide his tongue over Eddie’s skin.

“You sure?” Eddie whispers.

“Please,” Steve begs weakly, his voice cracking.

“Oh, baby,” Eddie breathes.

Steve moans quietly, arching his back, absently searching for friction.

“Take it slow,” Eddie says gently, running his hand into Steve’s hair again. “Okay? Don’t force it.”

Steve nods up at him, his heart pounding.

“Go ‘head, baby.”

Steve hums, opening his mouth again, sticking his tongue out, taking Eddie into his mouth again, sliding his tongue over the underside, tracing the vein that somehow tastes like the sky. Steve’s eyes roll into his head as he clutches at Eddie’s leg.

“Fuck, there you go, baby,” Eddie murmurs. “That’s it.”

Steve stiffens as Eddie’s dick nudges his throat, arching his back, furrowing his eyebrows.

Fuck.

“God, Stevie,” Eddie gasps. “You’re fucking amazing.”

Steve’s cheeks flush with heat, and he squeezes Eddie’s thigh, inhaling deeply before he relaxes, moving closer, letting Eddie’s dick push deeper, and his eyes sting as they fill with tears, and the ground is hard beneath him, pressing against his ankles and his hip, and it hurts but he doesn’t care.

He feels filthy.

He feels beautiful.

“Baby,” Eddie gasps, and his other hand finds Steve’s hair, pushing into his hair and gripping it tightly. Steve groans, pulling away to gasp for breath before he pushes in again. “Oh, fuck, Steve, fuck—”

Eddie tugs at his hair, hissing as Steve grips his thigh tightly.

“You like that, baby?” Eddie asks breathlessly, and Steve lets out a garbled yeah. “Yeah, you do. Fuck, you like my cock down your throat—”

Steve lets out a guttural groan, sliding his hands up to Eddie’s ass, pulling so Eddie’s dick pushes deeper, and Eddie lets out a moan, his head falling forward.

“‘S my boy,” Eddie says, groaning. “So good for me, babydoll, you’re so perfect.”

Steve whines, blinking tears out of his eyes. They’re hot as they roll down his cheeks, and he knows he’s pathetic, crying with Eddie’s dick down his throat, but Eddie’s fingertips are light on his cheeks as he wipes them away, carefully, lovingly.

“Fuck,” Eddie gasps. “You’re so beautiful, Stevie, my beautiful boy.”

Steve groans.

He only wants to hear Eddie’s voice for the rest of his life, just like this. Gentle and sweet and tender, echoing off the tile walls, covering him like a warm blanket, like an umbrella in the pouring rain.

He lets out a soft moan when Eddie pulls his head back by his hair, his shoulders slumping. Strings of spit fall from his mouth to his legs, darkening the fabric of his sweatpants.

“Breathe for me,” Eddie murmurs, and Steve does, panting, his chest rising and falling as he holds onto Eddie’s leg. “You okay?”

“Yes,” Steve gasps, looking up at him. “I like it, I like it so much, please—”

“Okay,” Eddie breathes. “I got you, sweetheart, you want it that bad?”

Steve nods pathetically, breathing hard.

“Want it,” he says absently, weakly, and he can’t say anything else because his mouth doesn’t seem to be connected to his brain.

“You want me to fuck your face, baby?” Eddie asks condescendingly, his voice sweet, and Steve’s stomach flips over. He whines, nodding, tears slipping down his face. “Sweet boy.”

“Please,” Steve breathes.

“Please what?”

“Eddie,” Steve whines, crying, hugging his leg, lifting his chin, but Eddie doesn’t let him, his fingers shifting to move his dick away from Steve’s mouth. “Please, baby.”

“Please what, sweetheart?” Eddie asks again, smiling, and Steve wants to pout. “What do you want, Stevie?”

“Eddie,” Steve whimpers, looking up at him. “Fuck my face. Please. Want your cock in my throat.”

“Jesus fuck, Steve,” Eddie says.

“Fuck me,” Steve says again, setting his chin on Eddie’s leg to look up at him. “Please, baby.”

Eddie’s dick jumps, and Steve grins, rubbing Eddie’s thigh gently, humming suggestively, whining when Eddie tugs his hair again.

“Take a deep breath for me,” Eddie says softly. Steve nods, inhaling, shifting onto his knees. “Ready?”

“Yes—” Steve says, just barely stopping himself from adding a soft sir at the end of the word. Which he knows is weird. Eddie is only a few years older than him, and they haven't even really talked about the way Eddie always takes charge, the way he talks to Steve like he can’t think for himself. Or the way it makes Steve melt into a human puddle, the way it makes him feel like he’s falling in love.

Other things make him feel like that too.

The way Eddie touches his waist when he’s passing by him in the kitchen, the way he glances at Steve when Steve glances at him, suppressing a shy smile.

The way Eddie’s voice sounds in the morning, all rough and gravelly and sexy, right in Steve’s ear as he says Good morning, beautiful because he knows it makes Steve shivers.

The way Eddie’s fingers feel in his mouth.

The way Eddie’s sweatshirts and bedsheets smell.

The way Eddie absently presses his fingertips into the soft flesh of Steve’s stomach and hips like he wants to pull him apart.

A lot of things about Eddie make Steve feel like that.

Eddie guides his dick into Steve’s mouth, one hand gripping his hair, and Steve moans softly, his eyes fluttering shut. He wraps his arms around Eddie’s legs as he takes him deeper, shifting to sit on his bottom again, holding Eddie’s legs tightly.

It’s gross, the way Eddie’s dick slides down his throat and then comes back out a little bit, the way Eddie grips his hair and guides his head up and down slowly, murmuring quietly. Steve chokes. He gags. His knees are sore from the ground. And he loves it.

His throat makes a clicking sound around Eddie’s dick, and he lets go of Eddie’s leg, reaching to his own lap, rubbing himself over his sweatpants. He moans, gasping when Eddie pulls out for a moment.

“Fuck,” Eddie groans. “That’s good, baby, you’re doing so good for me.”

Steve whines, lifting his chin to beg for more. Eddie gives it to him, moaning loudly. It echoes.

Steve’s hand pushes under his sweatpants, rubbing quickly as he clutches at Eddie’s thigh. His dick is already slick with come, and he groans.

“Fuck, are you touching yourself?” Eddie asks breathlessly. Steve whines, pulling away and gasping for breath, nodding, crying.

“Yeah,” he chokes. “Fuck, it feels so good, Eddie.”

“God, Steve.”

“Please,” Steve says weakly. “Gimme more, baby, please.”

“Open your mouth, baby.”

He does, sticking his tongue out, looking up at him, and it’s like he’s waiting for communion, like he’s waiting for Eddie to bless him.

And that’s exactly what Eddie does.

He presses his thumb to Steve’s tongue, pushing his jaw down. Steve keens, closing his mouth around it and sucking. Eddie smiles softly, curling his fingers under Steve’s chin. Steve squeezes his dick, whining.

“Open,” Eddie says softly. Steve lets his jaw drop. Spit falls down his chin. And then Eddie is sliding three fingers into his mouth, pressing down on his tongue, and Steve groans, closing his eyes. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve says weakly, his voice muffled by Eddie’s hand. Eddie grins, pushing his fingers deeper, stretching Steve’s mouth open. Steve whines, letting out a weak sob.

“That’s my boy,” Eddie says fondly. “Sweet baby.”

He pulls his fingers away, and Steve sticks his tongue out to catch the strings of spit that connect them.

“You want my dick, sweetheart?”

Steve nods, gazing up at him.

“Please,” he breathes.

─────────────────

Steve lets his head fall back as Eddie kisses down his neck, biting his lip. Eddie pushes his hair out of the way, sliding it across his wet skin, and Steve shivers.

He slides his hands over Eddie’s waist, and when Eddie’s teeth press into his skin, he drags his fingernails across his back, humming. He isn’t sure if Eddie hears it over the spray of the shower, but he doesn’t care.

The steam from the shower smells like Eddie’s shampoo, like home, and Eddie’s skin sliding against his feels like heaven.

Steve’s cross is pressing into his chest, but he doesn’t mind. It’s warm from the water, and from Eddie’s skin and his breath, and Steve isn’t even hard anymore (he hardly knew he was capable of having an orgasm, but less two in less than two hours), but he feels so fucking good.

Eddie’s hair slips between his fingers easily, and Steve wraps it around his fingers, pulling so Eddie pulls away. He does, smiling lazily, his tongue teasing his teeth, and Steve lets out a quiet moan.

There are drops of water caught in his eyelashes. His cheeks are pink. His piercings are shining.

“You’re so beautiful,” Steve breathes.

Eddie tilts his head, smiling softly. His hair is sticking to his neck, perfectly swirled over his skin, the dark color contrasting beautifully against his pale skin. Steve reaches out and pushes it away, leaning in to kiss his neck. Eddie laughs softly, letting him.

Steve sucks on his skin, humming quietly, letting Eddie tug at his hair. He bites gently, teasingly, smiling against his skin when Eddie grips his hair and holds him close as his other hand presses against the small of his back. Their bodies press together, their legs entwining, and Steve moans softly, hugging him tightly.

“Sweet lamb,” Eddie murmurs. Steve smiles again.

His cheeks are warm every time Eddie looks at his body.

He’s shy, even though Eddie whispered that he doesn’t have to be as they were undressing. His eyes linger on Steve’s chest, and Steve is self-conscious of how hairy he is, but Eddie is smiling the whole time. He murmurs into Steve’s ear that he’s beautiful, and Steve believes him.

Steve’s skin misses Eddie’s as they part, and he bites his lip to hold back a whine as he watches him turn to get the soap. His hair is stuck to his skin, but it’s parted just enough that Steve can see ink under the nape of his neck.

He reaches up before he can even think, dragging his fingertips across Eddie’s shoulders to gather his hair out of the way, and Eddie lets him, his head turning a little bit like he wants to turn and look at him. He doesn’t, and Steve pushes his hair away enough to see the tattoo.

It’s an eye. Looking back at Steve, shining. It kind of looks like it’s been etched into Eddie’s skin, the lines uneven and a little shaky like it’s a carving. There are lines around the eye like rays of light.

Steve traces it lightly, his fingertips just ghosting over the ink, and then he leans in and presses his lips to it. Eddie hums softly.

“Thank you,” Steve whispers, setting his chin on Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie’s head turns a little bit.

“For what?”

Steve sighs, closing his eyes, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s waist. Eddie’s hands slide over his forearms, and Steve kind of wishes they could absorb one another, that they could melt together.

“Taking care of me.’

Eddie hums again.

“Love taking care of you.” His voice is gentle, breathy, like he knows Steve feels like he’s about to fall asleep. Steve sighs again, tucking his face into the side of Eddie’s, shivering as Eddie drags his nails across his forearms lightly. “My sweet boy.”

♡ permanent taglist: @estrellami-1 @theplantscientist @spectrum-spectrum @carlprocastinator1000 @starman-jpg @romantiklen @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme ♡ holy things taglist: @stevesbipanic @pearynice @ao3whore @slowandsteddie @swordsandflowercrowns @dragonmama76 @mikeys-thoughts @sofadofax @cyranyx @kazalohiku @lostonceandneverfound @strangerfreaks @bitchysteveharrington @nailbatanddungeon @newtstabber (comment to be added/removed to/from either list!!)

♡ art of steve and eddie ♡ pinboard // playlist ♡ buy me a coffee

#!!!#sorry this is late ive been Having A Time #but im back!!#also ignore this if you want obv no pressure but if anyone is thinking ab donating to my kofi i would rly rly rly appreciate it #i have an exhibition coming up and i need to get some supplies #anyway #drink some water #take your meds #eat something yummy #love you love you love you #steddie #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #a mess of holy things

92 notes · View notes