#Broken Bones Broken Hearts | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rogerswifesblog · 11 months

Text

2 - broken bones and broken hearts

Previous chapter

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

A/N: Wuhu the second chapter of our story @jamneuromain !😌

Series summary; There was only one rule between best friends. Don’t have sex. But what happens when you break it anyway?

Chapter summary: The morning after. It can’t be that bad, right?

Pairing: Boxer Steve Rogers x reader

The first thing Steve noticed while waking up was the awful headache. He should’ve drink so much. Why did he even do it? Yes, he won the title but he never drank this much. Especially not tequila. It always made him do stupid things…the last time he drank tequila he-he shuddered at the memories. Or more at the stories his friends had told him.

A warm body laid close to his chest. Steve wasn’t even surprised that he had left the bar with a woman. Gently caressing her side Steve thought for a moment. The bar, the touching, the-oh god.

Oh god.

He wasn’t sleeping in just some woman’s bed.

Opening his eyes in shock he looked at the back of your head, slowly letting go of your sleeping form. He didn’t need to look under the covers to know what had happened-but he did it anyway, maybe you two hadn’t actually slept together you just…cuddled…or something. But even he doubts that. He could already feel he was naked and so were you.

As expected when Steve lifted the blanket you were both naked.

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fucking fuck.

Slowly sliding away from you he felt his breath hitch when you stirred in your sleep, mumbling something in your sleep. He’d love to just stay there. Lay next to you and wait till you’d wake up-but he wasn’t allowed to do that. He wasn’t your boyfriend. He was just…what exactly was he? A hook up? Is that all you wanted?

He felt his throat tighten. His heart probably skipped a beat. Maybe more.

Maybe it just stopped completely. It sure felt like that…or like it was breaking. Would you really throw the whole friendship away just because of needing someone to sleep with? And the kiss during the game? Did it even matter to you?

Feeling tears fill his eyes he quickly stood up, looking for his phone.

Or his clothes.

Wtf.

Where did he leave his clothes? Or his phone?

Leaving the bedroom his gaze fell to the clothes on the floor, couch and even under the console table. “Fuck”, he mumbled under his breath, finally finding his boxershorts and putting them on. He grabbed his jeans and walked to the bathroom, where he knew you wouldn’t be able to hear him-or at least not loud enough to wake you up.

He felt helpless.

And totally stupid.

“Buck, I messed up”, were his first words when he heard Bucky pick up the phone, the only person he could think could help him now. >Good morning to you, too<, grumbled the clearly just woken up man.

“It’s no time for that-Buck, please. I mean it. I messed up-like, really badly”, he whined, rubbing his hand over his face, sighing. If he had to be honest with himself he didn’t know if he should be calling Bucky. What if he was overreacting? Maybe he just should’ve waited for you to wake up first. >What did you do Steve? Is it because of yesterday? We all noticed you two were a bit more touchy than usual.< Bucky had definitely a smirk on his face.

Steve sighed. “We slept together.” That’s all he said.

There was silence for a moment, only some rustling of the blankets on the other side. He imagined Bucky sitting up, probably processing everything. >Pal, that’s great. Come on, you deserve to be together after all that pining-It should’ve happened a lifetime ago-< “-No Buck you don’t get it…” He sat down on the closed lid of the toilet, frustrated. >Do you regret it?<

“no…I mean yes-but it was a mistake. It shouldn’t have happened like that. We were drunk. It shouldn’t happen drunk…especially not our first time together”, he stood up, looking at his reflection in the mirror. Holy shit.

His face turns what he’d call an ungodly shade of red. Not only his face, the blush rose along his chest to the tip of his ears. His gaze fell to the many hickeys and scratches along his chest, stomach, shoulders-after turning around also his back. Fuck.

This looked bad. Well, not really…bad…but…

He actually liked it. Some primitive part of his brain was very pleased. You marked him as yours. You made sure everyone would know he belonged to you…only…he didn’t.

It was probably just a one time thing. It probably didn’t mean anything to you.

>Steve just…just talk to her. I’m pretty sure it’ll all work out. You two are a great match<, said the man on the other side of the line, yawning. Steve hear another voice in the background, not being able to tell who it belonged to. >stevie, go get your girl and talk to her< Steve opened his mouth to answer but Bucky beat him to it. >and don’t say anything stupid. Just be honest and don’t make it complicated. You are a people pleaser and always try to say what they want to hear-you just need to tell her the truth. That you love her<

The blond sighed. Bucky was right.

“Thanks, I’m maybe…overreacting.”

They talked for a few minutes, before Steve finally decided to leave the bathroom wanting to check if you were still sleeping. If that would be the case, maybe he could make you some breakfast? That was a good idea.

But you weren’t in your bed anymore. Instead you were picking up the rest of your and Steve’s clothes from the living room.

Steve smiled slightly nervously. “Good morning”, he said slightly breathless, especially after seeing the hickeys decorating your skin, especially your neck. Your head whipped so quickly to him, he feared you hurt yourself. “Oh-Steve, yeah Hi”, you mumbled, feeling your blood rush to your cheeks, while you tried to look away from him. He was wearing his jeans. Only his jeans.

His muscular chest was on full display, beautiful as always. The hickeys you had left behind made him look even better. You wished you could just admire your work. But you couldn't. He wasn’t yours to admire, to love…

There was silence for a moment.

“Steve-“ “I think-” You talked at the same time both looking up for a moment. “You first”, you mumbled not wanting to embarrass yourself confessing your feelings while he probably just wants to tell you it was a mistake. Because that’s what he thought. You heard it.

He bit his bottom lip. “About yesterday…I think-I mean-we were drunk”, he started, not really sure how to actually start this conversation. How could he know what to say? Was he supposed to tell you he loved you?

But this was such bad timing.

All of this happened so…unplanned.

Maybe you regretted it actually and he’d make a fool out of himself confessing his feelings.

He watched your face for a moment, trying to find anything in your expression that would give away how you felt about this whole situation. You seemed nervous. Really, really nervous. Unsure. You were unsure. God, you definitely regretted it. Of course you regretted it. He was just your best friend-you weren’t supposed to sleep together. He felt stupid. How could he even hope you’d love him?

He didn’t want to lose you as a friend. He couldn’t destroy this beautiful friendship-even though it would probably be hard for the next few days or weeks.

Steve didn’t know what to say.

So he said the worst thing possible.

"I'm sorry we slept together, but you're cool with it right? It doesn’t need to make anything weird”, he tried to say hurriedly. He swallowed, feeling his throat tighten. God, he suddenly felt so thirsty. His mouth felt dry. “I mean... it doesn't have to mean anything. If that’s what you’d prefer-“, Steve rambled.

You didn’t listen to anything else he was saying, just shaking your head lightly and putting on a fake smile. “It’s okay Steve. Let’s just-not talk about it. Like you said, it was the alcohol.”

You both knew you two hadn’t been too drunk to regret yesterday's decisions.

And you both didn’t regret it.

You just wanted to make the other happy by lying, hoping nothing would change or destroy the friendship.

Steve exhaled loudly, not even being aware he had been holding his breath. “Okay, then…-that’s great. It’s…all great. Do you think we could do i-“ before he could finish his question an urgent knock made you nearly jump out of your skin.

For a moment you were quiet, even Steve quickly shut his mouth, looking back at you with wide eyes.

Why did he seem so surprised? It’s not like it was the first time he had slept over or someone visited you while he was here-but-oh, yeah, it was because you had sex. And now Steve didn’t want to be seen here half naked.

“I know you’re home, open the door”, Natasha knocked again, stopping then and probably looking for the spare key.

You grabbed Steve’s arm, pushing him back into the bedroom. Without a word you closed the door behind him. “I’m coming Nat-just-yhm-I was taking a shower”, you lied, patting over to the door and opening it.

Meanwhile Steve just stared at the door you had closed right into his face. Just like that.

Like he was supposed to hide.

Like you wanted to hide him.

Well, fuck. He felt even worse than just a hook-up. He felt like…he couldn’t even find the words for how he felt.

He sat down on your bed. On the bed he had slept many nights, quite often with you in his arms. Just as friends. Great. And now you had fucked just as friends. Why did he let that happen? Why did you let that happen? God, why was everything so complicated?

(It wouldn’t be this complicated if people would communicate, but well…)

After letting Natasha in you both sat down on the sofa, leaning back, trying to look relaxed. Of course Natasha noticed you were nervous, especially after you started playing with your fingers. A habit you only did when something was wrong or when you were stressed out.

“Is everything okay? You look…nervous”, Natasha said smirking, letting her gaze slide over your appearance pausing at your neck for a bit longer than necessary. You couldn’t stop your hand from shooting up to your neck, trying to cover the evidence from yesterday. “I’ll make us a coffee while you try to come up with an excuse”, she whispered, a hint of smugness in her voice.

You watched as Natasha moved in your kitchen like it was her own. Gliding between your cabinets with surprisingly a lot of grace. In moments like this you could clearly see that she was a ballerina for many, many years. She was truly magnificent.

A soft sigh escaped your lips, while you looked down at the coffee Natasha gave you. Somehow a black coffee was exactly what you needed right now. You took a sip, feeling the hot liquid burn your tongue. A similar sensation in your heart since you had heard Steve’s phone call.

The bitter taste being too comforting for your liking.

Natasha suspected what was going on, why you seemed so nervous and slightly…miserable, but she decided not to bother you. Yet.

“After Steve and you left Clits shit ended an hour later and he sat with us-actually he wanted to congratulate Steve himself, but well, you two were already gone”, she started, sipping her coffee. You could even recognise a soft blush creeping over her cheeks.

Did…did Natasha have a crush? This Natasha? Natasha Romanoff?

You didn’t even notice when a big smile spread over your lips, while you started nodding in excitement. “And? What happened then?”, you asked urgently-even Steve eavesdropped at this point, captivated by Natashas words.

She chuckled into her cup, biting down on her lip. “Well…we might’ve exchanged numbers”, she said, sounding like a little girl talking about candy, cheery like you normally wouldn’t see her. It made even your heart swell for her. After her last terrible relationship you hoped she could finally meet a nice guy-and until now she hadn’t exchanged numbers with anyone after the break up, so this was a step in the right direction.

Natasha smiled, too, seeing your ridiculous grin. “He’s really sweet-and…I don’t know, really hilarious. A but childish maybe? He made me laugh so much…I haven’t laughed like that in months. My whole body arched”, she said, putting her cup aside and turning to you.

“But now tell me what happened yesterday?” “Nothing”, you answered quickly. Probably way too quickly, but you…panicked.

She raised her eyebrows, making you shake your head, not wanting to answer. It’s not like you were embarrassed or anything it’s just…why should you talk about it, if Steve didn’t care? It’s no big deal. Not to him. Why should you make a big deal out of it?

“Is Steve still here?”, Natascha asked instead. You could feel blood rush to your cheeks, making you blush a dark shade of red, but you tried to look calm. Or at least a bit less fidgety.

“Yhm…no he’s gone. Why would he still be here? It’s late-” “Its not late. He usually stays till at least lunchtime? If not longer”, interrupted the redhead, once again with a knowing smirk on her lips.

You hated how Natasha always knew everything that was going on. Even when you first started feeling something romantically for Steve Natasha knew it all before you. She was the first person to notice your glances at Steve. The soft touches and smiles.

She just knew.

“Yeah…well…not today…he’s not here. He had to go”, you mumbled, avoiding her sharp gaze. For a moment Natasha didn’t say anything, he’d gaze sliding to the side beside you.

“Why is his hoodie here?”

The blush on your face darkened.

But it wasn’t something unusual. Steve left his clothes at your place nearly every other day, so why would she ask about his hoodie? She really wanted to get you to talk.

“I have lots of his clothes. Half of my laundry is somehow Steve’s clothes-it’s like he’s living with me. Which he doesn’t. That would be totally weird, right? Yeah, definitely. I just have so much of Steve’s stuff, I don’t even know why-“

You haven’t even noticed your rambling, only when Natasha gently put her hand on your shoulder did you stop talking. “Are you okay?”

Her voice was a bit amused, but the question still seemed to be genuine.

“…yes” A sigh escaped your lips and Natasha could tell you were definitely not okay. She watched you for a moment, once again noticing the many hickeys on your neck.

“You two had sex?”, she whispered, suspecting that Steve may still be here.

While you didn’t want to answer her verbally, the look on your face was enough for Natasha to understand. She was right. Of course she was right. She always was.

But you were upset, which indicated something didn’t go as hoped.

Wanting to cheer you up she leaned a bit closer to you.

"Honey, there's nothing that sleeping with Steve can't fix. If there is, just sleep with him twice and it'll work out", her words made your lips twitch to a small smile, but you shook your head. Even though you’d love to spend another night with Steve, that’s not something he’d want. “It was just the alcohol-and let’s not talk about it anymore”, you added quietly seeing as Natasha wanted to say something. Probably about your feelings for Steve-which he really didn’t need to hear as well.

Natasha changed the subject, seeing as you really didn’t want to talk about Steve anymore. After you drank your coffee she got a phone call from Clint, who asked her if they could meet for lunch. With that she left, needing to get ready for the (hopefully) date.

After Natasha had left your place you nervously walked to the bedroom, opening the door to find Steve laying on your bed and texting on his phone. As soon as he saw you, he put his phone away quickly, smiling bashfully, his cheeks immediately heating up with a rosy blush.

“So, I guess I should go now?” He said while already standing up and coming closer to you…or rather to the door since he immediately walked out.

You couldn’t even answer before he had already put his shoes on and hugged you for a quick goodbye. For some reason it felt…awkward. Before yesterday you had hugged and touched each other in a platonic way all the time but now every touch reminded you of what happened yesterday.

Slightly smiling you watched him put his hoodie on, still blushing deeply. He fidget a bit with his hands before looking up again. “You’re still coming to the wedding with me, right?”

The reminder of the wedding Steve had invited you as his plus one too, made you swallow hard. Getting drunk and sleeping in the same bed? A few weeks ago this wouldn’t matter at all, you had done it all the time. Crush or no crush. But now? After this night? You couldn’t imagine how’d it turn out.

Before you could truly think it through you shook your head. “No, I don't think I’ll manage. I’m really busy and…I won’t make it, my grandma's sister's daughter in law is giving birth soon and we’ll visit her to celebrate the birth…”, you mumbled, clearly lying. Your whole face felt like it was burning with shame. God, what did you become?

Steve definitely noticed the lie, furrowing his brows lightly. Your behavior was…odd. Would it be all this time like this? Maybe you felt awkward because of something he said yesterday? Not that he remembered saying anything weird…or maybe he just didn’t remember it. He often talked or mumbled stuff right before falling asleep. What if he confessed his feelings? Oh god. Maybe that’s why you felt pressured.

He swallowed hard, fumbling with the sleeves of his hoodie. "Is this because we’d slept together? Because it doesn't have to make it weird between us.” He started rambling again, shrugging and trying to shake off the uneasy feeling. The feeling how his heart slowly breaking.

Slightly confused you looked up at him again, pulling your eyebrows together. How could he be so clueless? Tearing your heart apart like it was nothing. First he said it was a mistake and didn’t need to be important. And now you were the one making it weird? Even though you really tried to tell him about your feelings-which you even tried to do yesterday but he only fell asleep as if the whole night hadn’t mattered to him.

Maybe it didn’t.

"OH, I made it weird?" You snorted, shaking your head at his words. “Steve, I’m not the one that-nevermind. It doesn’t matter anyway”, you sighed. If he didn’t feel the same you shouldn’t tell him. It probably would make it even weirder. If this was even possible.

When Steve realized he wouldn’t elaborate more he looked you up and down. He loved seeing you like this, covered in hickeys and freshly out of bed after the night spent together-but the frown on your face reminded him he couldn’t have you like that. “It’s okay, I get it…we were drunk…stuff happens, let’s just…let it not affect our friendship”, he rambled, scratching his neck nervously.

His words made the pain in your heart worsen and you really didn’t want to continue this conversation. It didn’t make any sense. Not really. It only would hurt you more.

So you made up another excuse.

“I have to go, I have an appointment….dentist. Yeah. Dentist. My tooth hurts”, you nodded once to emphasize your words more.

Of course Steve could tell you weren’t telling him the truth. But he decided to play along as it seemed like you didn’t want to continue this conversation anymore.

“Okay, I get it…then…I should probably go give you time and space to get ready…” for some reason his words felt like they had a deeper meaning.

“Sure, we’ll talk later…”

Only a few more minutes later you sat on your couch, alone and in tears.

Have you just messed up your most important friendship? Have you lost your person?

Thank you for reading!

Let me know! Support your writers by reblogging and leaving feedback! Receiving feedback motivates a lot!

Questions? HC ideas? Drabble ideas? Thoots? (For this au or in general) -> flood my inbox!😋❤️

Taglist; @patzammit @justalonelyslytherin @hawkeyes-queen @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @jesterstrange @inlovewithchrisevans @slutforchrisjamalevans (I tagged a few people that had reblogged the series Masterlist but if you don’t wanna be tagged let me know!)

Wanna be tagged? Be active (reblogging and leaving feedback!) and let me know.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x you #boxer steve rogers x reader #boxer steve rogers #broken bones and broken hearts

112 notes · View notes

painsandconfusion · 8 months

Text

Strikeout

Whumping the Whumpers - Part Thirty-two

(tw: escape attempt, broken glass, broken ceramic, gun, bullet wound, stress position, beating, shock collar, threat of death, broken bones, concussion, blood, whipping boy / scape goat, bludgeoning, forced to watch)

[Previous | Masterpost | Next]

Four years ago...

Ethan scurried through the house. He didn’t bother with the front door - instead, picked up a metal coat tree and hurtled it against the window.

He didn’t have time for less. He barely had time to scoop up a kitchen rug and lay it over the shards of glass to safely clamber out the window.

He toppled to the ground in a heap, wild eyes snapping up at the small plume of dust on the horizon. He knew he didn’t have long before Crawford came home but…fuck this was closer than expected.

Without a thought, he shoved his legs up under him, cradled the bit of porcelain to his neck, and darted off across the wide, rolling yard.

“E, this is crazy - will that even work??”

“Porcelain doesn’t conduct electricity. It’ll work.”

There wasn’t much Crawford left them in their little, dank basement. But the toilet was an asset Ethan had never thought to use before.

Crawford had taken the lid of the tank - the bastard - but the rest of it was still in tact.

Ethan had slammed his shoulder against it again and again and again until a chunk broke off of the tank, wafting back and forth through the water until it eventually settled at the bottom of the tank.

With wild eyes and bleeding arm, he’d fished it out, blotting the fresh water off against his shorts.

Then tucked it up under his collar, ensuring it was wide enough to fit between both of the prongs and the soft, scorched skin on his neck.

Sharp as it was (it wasn’t bad), the coolness of the shard felt nice against the aching skin.

More importantly, it’d protect him from the shock.

“Just…be careful, okay?” Johnny stepped up to hi, fingers tracing the piece to inspect it.

“I’m always careful.” Ethan cradled Johnny’s face in his hands and leant down to press a kiss to his forehead.

Ethan’s legs were already burning by the time he got halfway across the yard. He had no idea what day it was. No idea how long he had belonged to Crawford - or Elias before him. No idea how long his legs had been left to atrophy, sitting useless in basements and cells.

He ran anyway.

Ethan couldn’t help but grin through the pain as he felt the buzz and snap of the shock collar - yet he didn’t feel a thing. Porcelain protecting him.

He was free. He could get out and get help and they’d come back for Johnny an-

“COME THE FUCK BACK OR I’LL KILL HIM.”

A chill split down Ethan’s pine as his legs stumbled to a stop, shaking and exhausted. Breath ragged and sharply cold in the deep autumn air.

So much agony already.

His eyes drifted toward the skyline, eyeing skyscrapers that blurred and fogged with the distance.

He turned back toward Crawford, pulling in another painful breath. “YOU WOULDN’T-” Trying to call his bluff.

“THINK NOT? THINK I WANT EVIDENCE LYING AROUND WHEN YOU BRING THE FUCKIN PIGS BACK HERE??”

…fuck.

Ethan’s chest was still heaving as he turned to look at the vague outline of the city again.

..it was far.

Too fucking far, his legs were already shaking at a quarter mile. He was too thin. Too weak. Too..broken to make that run and not get caught.

..and Johnny would die.

Some devil on his shoulder vaguely flickered the thought across his mind that even if Johnny died, Ethan would be free.

That thought flitted away just as quickly as it came. Unwanted and irrelevant.

Ethan would die a thousand times for Johnny. He knew that. Down to his very soul, he knew that.

When he looked back to Crawford, the man had a gun out now, walking briskly across the lawn toward him like a mother two inches from the end of her patience with children throwing mud at neighbors windows.

“Get. The fuck. Back here.” Close enough he didn’t need to shout anymore, apparently.

Ethan’s mind buzzed and warped, legs begging him to run as the rest of him stayed stubbornly put.

..then…dragged him toward Crawford. Toward the gun. Toward the house.

Toward Johnny.

“If he comes, you’ll run, right? You won’t worry about me?”

Ethan pulled in a tight breath, nuzzling his nose against Johnny’s. “That’s..the best bluff, yeah. He won’t hurt you on my behalf if I’m not here to see it. There’s no point.”

Johnny nodded, tucking his cheek against Ethan’s shoulder. Ethan pulled him closer as warm arms wrapped around his waist. Soft and simple.

If this were just him, he could live with it. He could try to escape in his own time or bear the pain.

But Johnny would die if Crawford kept wailing on him like he’d been.

They needed to try.

Ethan came back anyway. He’d barely flinched when Crawford shot him in the leg for good measure - ensuring he couldn’t change his mind and run again. It was point blank, too. The moment Ethan had stepped up to him, the gun lowered - seemingly a good thing - then went off.

Because of course it did.

Because Crawford was a dick.

The pain didn’t hit him right away. Not the way it should.

Body shocked by the sudden change, it felt more like a fist to his thigh than penetration.

But the searing, aching wrongness had set in all the same and Crawford forced him back into the house, muscles shifting and pulling against each other around the bullet.

Ethan refused to give him the satisfaction of a limp.

It was going to hurt like a bitch anyway.

By the time he shoved Ethan down the basement steps - his leg didn’t hold up for that one, he fell freely down the stairs and cracked his head against the cement with a dazed groan - Johnny was already anxiously stepped up to the stairs, hands clasped against his chest with eyes wild with fear and worry. “E-”

Ethan winced as Johnny’s cool fingers pressed against his head where it’d hit. Trying to get his mind to catch up properly. Trying to shake off the daze.

“Forget about him - front and center, boy.” Crawford’s heavy steep creaked down the stairs after him - planting onto Ethan’s leg as he went.

The pain ripped up through him, feeling it fully this time without the consciousness to distract himself. A wheezing groan crackled out Ethan’s throat at the pain, and he hazily tried to curl up and away from the pressure.

But it was gone in moments.

Fingers wound into Johnny’s hair, followed by a yelp as he was pulled away, Ethan’s fingers catching against Johnny’s. Trying to keep him away from the threat.

It didn’t work.

Ethan squeezed his eyes shut tight and forced himself up to sitting. Almost. Kind of.

He was swayed to the side, legs bent the other way and both arms braced against the floor as he tried to force the pain and swirling nausea back.

“D-ont-” His voice sounded so much weaker than he wanted, and he cursed himself for not watching his fucking head as he fell. He didn’t have time for a concussion right now-

“You know the rules.”

"I love you..you know that, right?"

"..I know." He knew. But the words still felt stale. It felt like goodbye.

Johnny's cheek was so soft under Ethan's thumb. He barely noticed the bruises there anymore.

"I love you, too."

Ethan hadn’t even registered that Crawford had Johnny tied already - arms above his head and dangling from a rafter - toes barely brushing the ground now. Didn’t notice it, at least, until Johnny let out a gasping choke of air, voice sucked away by the hit as a bat slammed against his leg.

A bat.

A…bat???

Ethan squeezed the stars from his eyes once again, focusing better - it was a bat.

No punching or kicking this time, he was using tools. Crawford never used tools - preferred a proper, traditional beating where he could feel ribs crack under his knuckles and feel flesh shift. It wasn’t about the damage - it was about catharsis.

But this?? A fucking bat?

Damage.

This was about damage.

Ethan’s eyes were wide and desperate as he realized that, trying to drag himself closer as Johnny’s broken, strained scream echoed against the walls after the wood snapped against his leg.

“Dont-” Ethan dragged himself closer. “D-don-”

“Shut up-! You know the fucking rules.”

Ethan fucks up? Johnny gets hurt.

He knew the rules.

Still, Ethan found his hand wrapped around Crawford’s ankle, trying to plead with him.

The bat found Ethan’s skull next.

And everything went black.

[Previous | Masterpost | Next]

(tags: @prisonerwhump @whumpawink @mabledonut @heathenwhump @paleassprince @happy-little-sadist @wormwriting @distinctlywhumpthing @whump-cafe @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @azayta @batfacedliar-yetagain @there-will-always-be-blood @siren-of-agony @whumpworld @bandages-andobsessions @deltaxxk @whumpasaurus101 @pickywhumpreader @whumpberry-cookie @morning-star-whump @nailevislev @throwawaywhumper @the-mourning-star @d-cs @pigeonwhumps @hold-back-on-the-comfort @suspicious-whumping-egg @snakebites-and-ink @whumpedydump @orphans-parent @whumplr-reader)

As always, lmk if you want to be added to the tag list!

38 notes · View notes