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painsandconfusion · 10 months

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Forced Comfort

Because who doesn't like a little bit of intimate whumper vibes?

[Prompt Masterpost]

Whumpee wrapped up in a blanket. The soft fabric hides the fact that their hands are still bound behind their back.

Gentle fingers brushing the hair from Whumpee’s face - carefully peeling it back through the sheen of sweat that’s left.

“Shhh…you’re okay. I’m not gonna hurt you anymore..”

Kissing tears from the corners of Whumpee’s eyes.

Whumper keeping Whumpee sedated between sessions to 'help them cope'.

“Hold still- hold still or I’ll start again.”

Pinning a squirming Whumpee in an embrace. Grip tightening the more they struggle.

Whumpee being so tired. So so so very tired. They can’t help but lean into the gentle touch.

Whumper ignoring every shiver and twitch that accompanies the gentle pets they give their broken toy.

“Nnnnono-sst…d-on’ t ouchme-!”

Whumpee thrashing to the point of hyperventilation as Whumper wraps them up in blankets. The panic in their eyes ever so slowly fading as they realize they’re not being hurt anymore.

Whumpee desperately not trying to lean into it or accept the comfort. They don’t want it from them - don’t want to melt into the hands that ripped screams from them just a few minute before. But they need something. And Whumper knows it.

“Look at you. Pathetic little thing~”

Shoving Whumpee into a bath to trigger some kind of calming response. Whumpee just thinks they’re going to be drowned. …….maybe they will be. Just a little bit.

Whumper combing a hand through Whumpee’s hair - soft and rhythmic and sweet - as they carve into Whumpee.

“Shhh..just focus on me. Don’t look at it- just look at me. Listen to my voice. You’re doing so good, little one.”

Kisses peppering over Whumpee’s cheeks, lips, forehead, brows, jaw, etc as their face puckers up, trying to twist away.

A hug that looks gentle until you notice Whumper’s hand fisted in Whumpee’s hair. Keeping them exactly in place.

“Don’ don t t-ouch me- STOP-”

Drugging Whumpee to ‘help with the nerves’. Watching their panicked sobs slowly peter out into nothing as they stare miserably at their captor.

“Make the most of this. We start again in the morning.”

[Prompt Masterpost]

(tags: @prisonerwhump @whumpawink @mabledonut @happy-little-sadist @paleassprince @distinctlywhumpthing @wibbly-wobbly-whump @batfacedliar-yetagain @suspicious-whumping-egg @wormwriting @villainsvictim @throwawaywhumper @wild-selenite-caffine @whumpasaurus101 @thecitythatdoesntsleep @whumpworld @pinkieglitterheart @whumpberry-cookie @rainbows-and-whumperflies @a-galactic-fox @shywhumpauthor @cyberneticwhump @bumpwhump @hold-back-on-the-comfort @veyroswin @whumping-seven-days-a-week @whumpingisfun @suffering-and-misery @definitely-not-a-seagull-i-swear @yetanotheraltwhumpblog @whump-queen @a-whumped-tea @whumpsday @sonder35 @scribbelle)

As always, lmk if you want to be added or removed from any tag lists!

#torture #blood #forced comfort #intimate whumper #noncon touch #noncon kiss #drugging #prompt list #whump prompts #whump tropes #whump #conditioned whumpee #conditioning #good old stockholm syndrome sets in

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whumpshaped · 6 months

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masterlist

tw vampire whumper, psychological whump, intimate whumper, forced comfort

"Whatever is the matter with you?"

Beck shrugged a little. He still barely even looked at Helle, let alone engaged in their banter. "I don't know. I'm sorry."

They gently took him by the chin, turning his head towards them so they'd be able to look him in the eye. They didn't seem concerned, just confused and annoyed. "Is it me? Am I the problem? Are my insults and mockery getting less... gutting?"

Beck thought he might be able to sense some semblance of care behind the joking tone, but he was too exhausted to pay too much attention. "No, that's definitely not it," he said honestly. "They're... they're definitely pretty gutting. I mean, if, if we're being honest here– they make me wanna cry half the time."

The vampire let go of him and leaned back, still fixing him with a suspicious look. "Okay. So... whatever is it, then? You barely react. Our of the two of us, you seem more dead."

"I'm tired, Helle," he admitted, and averted his eyes again. "I'm sorry. That's– I think that's just it. I'm so tired of being... afraid, and hurt, and angry. I just can't do it tonight. I bet that's very frustrating, since that seems like the only reason you even keep me around in this way instead of enthralling me and whisking me away to your mansion or whatever, but I just... I can't. I can't do it every night. I'm tired."

The silence that stretched between them wasn't a necessarily uncomfortable one. It was almost peaceful, contemplative. Beck used it to simply zone out and stare at the TV in front of him — despite the fact that it wasn't even turned on, and he was just looking at his reflection. Only his. And Helle? Helle used it to think about whatever the hell vampires thought about, when they weren't thinking about blood and torture. Maybe they were thinking about blood and torture. There was no way to know.

"I do keep you around for those tasty little emotions," they said eventually. "It is quite fun to see you react to whatever I am doing. But I think..." They grabbed him by the arm and pulled him closer, positioning him so that he was laid across the sofa with his head in their lap. "I do not have to pull from the negative ones all the time. Especially if they are a limited resource."

Beck would've lied if he said the situation didn't scare him. He felt numb, yes, but he wasn't dead. Or emotionless. His muscles still tensed up at having to navigate unfamiliar territory, and his breathing and pulse quickened. But he couldn't react in the way Helle wanted. He didn't have the energy to protest and beg.

They began gently petting his hair, like one might do with a cat. It felt... nice. It wasn't comforting, but it was objectively pleasant, and... Helle was right. It was different, and different made him feel.

"I could make the distinction differently," they murmured. "I could simply make your days bad and worse, have your brain switching between dread and more dread."

Oh, it was a foolish question, the one on the tip of his tongue; but it was a justified one. Should he risk it? Or should he keep quiet and enjoy the break?

He was never going to learn to keep his mouth shut.

"Why don't you?" he asked quietly.

The vampire scratched his scalp with sharp nails, and Beck once again felt like he was nothing but a pet. But it was so good. It felt so nice. He couldn't help but turn his head a little, lean into the touch, and even though he managed to stifle the pleased hum that threatened to breach his aura of indifference, the way he arched his back to be able to push against Helle's hand probably told them everything they wanted to know.

They smiled sweetly. "It is an odd thing, really. Sometimes I look at your adorable little face and I want nothing more than to ruin it with tears and bruises. And sometimes... sometimes I come here with that exact intent, and yet you manage to say or do something... and I just change my mind out of nowhere. Sometimes I want to see you like this."

"Like a dog."

"Like a happy dog. Relaxed, content, lazily wagging his little tail — wagging it specifically because I scratched him behind the ears." Beck felt his face heating up at the comparison, even though it was the same one he'd made a moment ago. It was different, coming from Helle. "But it does make me wonder... How would you react if I were to take it all away?"

Beck tensed again, waiting for them to do just that. For their fingers to tighten in his hair, for the claws to draw blood. For Helle's gentle expression to turn cold and cruel. He found himself desperately hoping it was merely a hypothetical.

"There it is," they whispered. "That fear. That uncertainty. That pleading look I treasure oh so much." They continued petting him, satisfied with how he was unable to relax at all now. "A little hope and kindness goes a long way, I suppose."

taglist: @whumpsday @the-scrapegoat @hidden-dreamland @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @delicateprincepaper @whumppmuhw @florissimps @nicolepascaline @oliversrarebooks @the-cyrulik @pirefyrelight @there-will-always-be-blood @pigeonwhumps @echo-goes-mmm @whumpycries @morning-star-whump

#at my beck and call #whump #whump writing #helle #beckett #vampire whumper #psychological whump #intimate whumper #forced comfort

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whumpbot · 10 months

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WhumpAI Prompt #15

Content : Forced Comfort | Drowning(Forced) | Implied drugging | Bath tub | Captivity

Whumpee sat frozen in the bathtub, their body tense and naked, clutching their trembling knee. The realization of Whumper's ability to forcibly strip them and the fear of their presence outside the tub sent chills down Whumpee's spine. Whumper hummed cheerful tunes while leisurely rubbing shower gel onto a sponge, occasionally directing a gentle stream of water from the showerhead to their own body, and rubbing shampoo into their hair.

The massage on their scalp was oddly soothing, but Whumpee’s wariness only grew; they had learned that letting Whumper's hands come near their head, or anyone's for that matter, was a bad idea. "Does the water still sting the wound?" Whumper inquired, snapping Whumpee out of their thoughts.

Shaking their head, Whumpee hoped to end the conversation quickly. But before they knew it, Whumper's hand grabbed their foamy hair and yanked it backward, causing them to strain to stay upright in the water. Fear surged through Whumpee, but they suppressed the urge to panic or thrash around, remembering the warnings they had received. "Whumpee, that's not how we answer people in this house," Whumper remarked, their voice laced with a chilling reprimand.

Struggling to calm their fearful panting, Whumpee swallowed hard and replied, "No, sir, it doesn't hurt the wound." They held onto the edges of the tub tightly after their head was released, nearly slipping beneath the water's surface due to the sudden movement. Whumper continued the head massage, their touch oddly soothing. "Well, it's your first bath here, I guess the cut healed" Whumper said, their voice surprisingly gentle. "And Whumpee?"

"Yes, sir?" Whumpee replied, their voice filled with trepidation.

"You spat out the drug, didn't you?" Whumper's question hit Whumpee like a punch to the gut.

Whumpee's eyes widened in horror, the truth hanging heavy in the air. "You're way too jumpy. There's no way you'd have the strength to hold yourself like that. And you made my clothes all wet," Whumper remarked, a hint of annoyance in their voice.

Whumpee turned, their mouth forming the beginning of an apology, but before they could utter a word, everything blurred, and the soapy water burned their eyes. Whumpee found their face forced underwater, held down by their own hair. They thrashed, desperately trying to pry away their captor's hand, but they were too strong. Panic washed over them, registering the situation as their chest started to burn and water entered, further burning their nostrils. Whumper shifted to stand up from where they sat, using their body weight to hold the head under the bathtub, staring in rage and ignoring the splashes of water that now spread all over the room, including their shirt.

Whumpee felt another pain as their hair was yanked up, forcefully emerging their head to the surface. Finally, air. Precious air. They gasped and choked, coughing up bitter water from their throat that didn't seem to end.

Whumper's face loomed in, too close for comfort. "Hmmm. But that was a pretty weak resistance, even for you. Wait, let me just—"

"Wait! No—" Whumpee entered the water again with a splash, mid-coughing, now inhaling more water than before. They couldn't find the energy to thrash again; all of their muscles were cramping, and everything was heavy. Then came the calm, amidst the panic, a millisecond of warmth as they felt the water envelop them. Somehow, the water felt almost peaceful, neutral, constant, especially compared to the unpredictability their captor had been showing these last few days. The idea of releasing their grasp and giving in to unconsciousness tugged at them.

Then their chest pounded, and fear surged again, but now Whumpee couldn't remember anything besides the fear. They just knew their throat and nose were burning, and they didn't like it, and everything was fading to dark.

The next thing they heard was the urgent and demanding voice of Whumper. "Whumpee! D-- -ou -ake -ugs--" and they snapped back, their head held above water by a forceful hand, pulling it to the side of the tub. Whumper's slap prompted another nauseating cough. "Answer me! Did you take the drug after all?"

Whumpee's terrified face struggled to form words, gasping for air, their mind fractured, and their neck almost hurt too much to nod. Whumper squinted, clearly skeptical of their response. "Are you lying?" they questioned, bringing Whumpee's head dangerously close to the edge of the water. Whumpee shook their head vigorously as their chin touched the surface.

"Oh. Okay. I'll go grab some dry towels," Whumper non-challantly announced, shaking off their finger from Whumpee's hair, making their captive's torso slipped into the bathtub. Whumpee thrashed again and propped themselves up with trembling hands, finding the room empty when they emerged, steps of Whumper fading outside the door. Again, Whumpee hyperventilated, swallowed, and gasped again, holding their aching chest and throat. Then choking coughs turned into sobs.

Choking back tears and hugging their arms to fend off the cold, Whumpee would soon be terrified of baths.

#More bathtub yo #AIgenerated #Whump #Whump prompt #Whump scenario #whump ideas #whump fic #drowning #bath tub #Captivity #forced comfort #pet whump

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ruporas · 1 year

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good mornings throughout the travel

[ID: Two comics of Vash and Wolfwood from Trigun Maximum. The second is underneath the read more.

The first is in four panels and follows Vash and Wolfwood through hotel rooms. First, Vash and Wolfwood exit adjacent rooms, and Wolfwood has sparkles floating around him as he exclaims, “Rise and shine! Ready to go?” Vash frowns, displeased, and says, Urk— Good morning to you too.”

Next, they’re in a room with two beds. Wolfwood is awake and fully dressed. He’s sitting on the bed and smoking, back turned away from the viewer and he says, “Wake up already, sleepyhead.” Vash sits up with his eyes still closed and yawns before saying good morning. After that, they’re sharing a bed, and Wolfwood gets up and says, “Morning, sunshine. Time to get up.” His body shadows Vash from the sunlight. Vash is still lying down with a blanket draped over him as he mumbles good morning.

Finally, they’re embracing in bed, both shirtless. Sunlight shines on them, but their contact allows their shadows to drape over their faces. Vash smiles, kisses the top of Wolfwood’s head, and says, “Good morning, Wolfwood.” Wolfwood sleepily says, “Mph, g’morning, needle-noggin’,” snuggling into on Vash’s shoulder. End ID] ID CREDIT

TRIMAX Vol. 10 Spoilers under read more // bonus comic

[ID: The bonus comic starts with Vash asleep in bed, fully clothed with his hair half-black. Someone says “Good morning,” and Vash says, “Morning, Wolf—w...” He trails off as Livio, holding a plate of food, stares with abject shock.

Livio says, “I’m sorry.” Vash, smiling but sweating, says, “No, it’s my bad...” Livio repeats, “I’m sorry.” Vash says, “Geez, stop apologizing,” and cuts off Livio’s “I—” with a “Good morning, Livio.” Livio quietly mumbles, “... Good morning...”

Vash sits up from the couch he was sleeping on and looks down, thinking, “... That’s right. I won’t wake up to you anymore... I have to get used to that...” End ID]

#vashwood #vash the stampede #nicholas d wolfwood #trigun #trigun maximum #i just think. when theyre traveling for a long time together #sleeping in the same inns sleeping in the same rooms potentially as they get closer #realizing they dont need to pay the fee for 2 bedrooms if theyre comfortable fighting back to back #realizing they dont need to pay the fee for 2 beds after one night of being forced to sleep in same one since all the 2 beds rooms ran out #and being comfortable with it - and then after their feelings are shared #realizing theyd rather sleep and rest peacefully next to one another #and wake up slowly and enjoy the mundane while they can #i drew ww waking up first bc i dont imagine he sleeps much tbh. i think vash is a light sleeper too and more often than not #and vash goes to bed just bc he knows if he tries to leave ww would follow him #i also think vash never had someone stand guard for him before even if that isnt what he wants out of ww to do. but knowing that ww is #there means that he can actually sleep peacefully without worry that someones going to drop on him immediately. i think he'd get used tothat #and ww -- as he opens his heart more to vash -- gets comfortable staying in bed a little longer #sleeps a little better -- especially when they start to share a bed bc there's a warmth there that he can't help but cave into #bc he hasn't had that in a long time.#ruporas art

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sp0o0kylights · 6 months

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Whole thing on A03

It didn't matter how much Steve explained. Not one member of the Party was going to get it.

Tommy and Carol would, but then, they were no longer on speaking terms. A fact that hurt even if it was for the best--particularly in times like these, because they got it.

They understood how he had been ensnared with the very same wealth people mocked him for. What it meant when his parents demanded Steve drop everything and go on vacation, his own plans be damned.

They knew, because their families had done much the same, and so the lives they led also were tethered to leashes made of their parents' design.

Dustin, whose mother bent over backwards to try and better her kid’s life, didn’t even have a frame of reference for this kind of thing, let alone sympathy.

"Do they not understand you have a job?" Dustin asked incredulously, and Steve didn't have the emotional bandwidth to explain that his parents didn't consider working at Family Video to be a real job.

As far as they were concerned, Steve could quit if he had to, and then go find another job when they were done using him to play the nice, All-American family.

Likely for business purposes.

"They aren't the type to care." Steve said instead.

It was easier than getting into it.

(Easier than explaining the BMW wasn't in his name, but his parents.

How his money went into a bank account they had access to.

That practically everything he owned was actually owned by Richard and Stella Harrington, and both were quick to remind him of that fact the second they felt Steve was acting out of line.

And boy, had he been acting out of line.

Getting into fights.

Turning their punishment of working a job they picked specifically for the humiliating outfit, into the far worse public embarrassment of being involved in a mall fire--an embarrassment because Steve had "lost" the keys to the BMW, had "put himself in danger" playing hero instead of letting the perfectly capable firefighters do it, then “paraded around” with bruises all over his face, racking up medical bills.

Truly a sin for someone who hadn’t made it into college.)

So no, this vacation they demanded Steve drop everything for was not anything close to a reward, or even something they were doing to spend time together. There was a reason they needed Steve, and as far as they were concerned, Steve was at their beck and call until he shaped up and got his life back on track.

His own plans be damned.

"That's not fair though!" Dustin burst out and Steve sighed in relief, because here at least, he knew what to do to distract his younger friend.

“We planned our trip months ago!” Dustin continued, looking two seconds away from giving in and stomping his foot.

The kid might have been smarter than Steve--smarter than most people really--by a hell of a lot, but he was still fourteen.

Smarts, Steve knew, didn't exactly equate to emotional intelligence, and it definitely didn't stop rampaging hormones.

Ice cream on the other hand, was a great aid in both areas.

"You better be making this up to us." Dustin threatened thirty minutes later, spoon wedged deep into a sundae. “We can’t do, like, half the stuff we were going to do without you!”

“I'm sure you guys didn’t need me to play ghost runners or whatever.” Steve said, but was quick to back down when Dustin nearly threw his spoon at him.

Rather than antagonizing him more, Steve dutifully raised his hand to put over his heart. "I swear on your mom that I’ll make it up to you.”

Dustin rolled his eyes, but otherwise, finally, let the whole thing go.

Stupidly, Steve thought this meant the worst was over.

He was wrong.

xXx

Mike hadn’t cared.

El and Will hadn’t really either, though both expressed some sadness that Steve wouldn’t be participating in the camping trip that the Party as a whole had been looking forward to for the past few months.

Erica had simply snapped at him, making him promise much the same as Dustin had that he would be making it up to her sometime in the future. Likewise, she had been bought off by ice cream (even if she insisted it didn’t count because Steve owed her ice cream anyways.)

Max was the surprising emotional standout.

"You can't tell them no?" She demanded, arms crossed over her chest.

Lucas was hovering awkwardly at her shoulder, shooting "what can you do?" vibes as hard as he could at Steve as his (currently on-again) girlfriend outright dressed the elder boy down; her shoulders creeping up higher and higher until she seemed to realize she was visually giving away her upset and forcibly relaxed them.

Unlike Dustin and Erica, her tirade was very out of character and Steve was growing more concerned by the second that something was wrong the more she spat at him.

“I mean for fucks sake, didn’t you tell them you had plans!?” She finished, eyes narrowed in rage.

Which was rich coming from someone whose stepdad had Billy Hargrove running all over town before he’d run off after the guy’s death, but then, Steve knew better than to bring all that up.

(The image of Max, unresponsive in the hospital with casts on almost every limb, was still too fresh.

Even now he didn’t like to push her, even if the Party as a whole did their best to take notice when one of them was isolating themselves again.

Max, though she was down to one crutch, was still inclined to use it as a weapon and very much enjoyed practicing her swings on people’s ankles.)

“I did indeed. They don’t care and they’re not giving me a choice, but for what it’s worth I am sorry.” Steve tried to keep his voice even and out of angry-shrieking range, and vaguely prayed it was working. “I swear, I will make it up to you guys, even if we have to go on a second camping trip.”

This was clearly not the correct thing to say.

Though judging by the murderous rage being aimed his way, Steve was pretty sure nothing short of “You know what you’re right, let me go tell my parents to fuck off!” would make Max happy.

“So you’re seriously just going to drop everything, all our plans, your job, us,” She took a very threatening step forward and despite her being a full foot shorter than him, Steve had to fight not to take a responding step back. “So you can go play rich boy in the Bahamas?”

“We’re not going to the Bahamas--” Steve tried, but was interrupted with a loud “ugh!” of disapproval.

“Whatever makes you happy, Steven.” Max spat, and then turned on her heel, storming off towards the rest of the Party (who had taken one look at Max’s face and fled into the arcade so she and Steve could “talk.”) “I’m sorry us peasants weren’t good enough to hang around!”

“Sorry man.” Lucas apologized quietly, on his way to run after Max.

Steve just scrubbed a hand through his hair and sighed.

xXx

“The kids are mad at you.” Nancy announced, appearing across the Family Video counter like a phantom.

Steve swore, nearly dropping his stack of VHS’s, while Robin (who had clearly seen Nancy approach) cackled at his fumble.

“Yeah, I did get that memo.” Steve said, after he stabilized his stack, safely moving them from his arms to the counter.

Nancy peered around them, her face giving away nothing. “It is kind of shitty to cancel at the last minute like that. We were relying on you to drive.”

An old fury shook itself awake in Steve’s chest, taking an interest in the conversation the second Steve realized what Nancy was here to do.

He took a deep, shuddering breath, and pressed it down, back into the box he’d slammed it in all those years ago.

“I’d leave the keys to Robin here, but unfortunately, someone failed their drivers test.” Steve said instead, jamming his finger over his shoulder and blatantly attempting to pass the buck.

Robin, who absolutely knew that was what he was doing, faked a gasp and kicked at his ankles.

“That crotchety asshole failed me on purpose!” She protested, spinning to face Nancy. “He made like, three misogynistic comments before we even got in the car!”

“Pointing out that he knew the car wasn’t yours wasn’t misogynistic, he was just surprised to see me letting you use the Beemer.” Steve shot back, rolling his eyes. “I don’t exactly let a lot of people drive it.”

Unspoken was that Steve’s BMW was one of the town’s more unique cars, and thus easily identifiable by the locals at large.

“How is that better!?” Robin returned, but Nancy cleared her throat before they could successfully get the Steve-and-Robin show on the road.

“The point is that we--but really, the kids, were counting on you.” Nancy said, dipping into her patented “I’m upset with you” tone.

A year ago it would have cut Steve to the bone, even if he didn’t show it.

Now he just stared tiredly at her back.

“I’m sorry, Nance, but it is what it is.” He said simply, hoping the apology (even if he knew it wasn’t so much a real apology as it was something he said to keep the rage from breaking out and wrecking havoc via his mouth) would soften his ex. “I don’t know what else to tell you.”

Given the abrupt narrowing of her eyes, it very much did not help his case.

“For someone who was so vocal about trying to change I have to say this is pretty disappointing.” Nancy said simply, but with just enough of a tone that Steve had to close his eyes for a second.

Feel the way that old anger, the one that had powered King Steve, hit the bars of its cage.

Robin stilled immediately next to him, her head ping-ponging between Steve and Nancy both as she too, clocked that Nancy was pissed, and here to chew Steve out about it.

“Um.” She said, voice going high in discomfort.

Steve grit his teeth. “I don’t exactly get a say in these things, Nancy. You know that.”

He had to work to keep his voice even, fighting against the ice that wanted to sharpen his own tone.

It was just---Nancy did know.

Steve had told her all those years ago, in the safety of her arms, about his parents' expectations. Their predetermined path, the way they dictated large swathes of his life.

How they’d allowed him to pick which sports he played, but required that he play a sport no matter the time of year.

That the pool they had installed wasn’t for him, he just got to use it as much as he did in part because he’d joined the swim team, and the kind of mental mind games he and his parents played about things like that.

Apparently either Nancy had forgotten, or simply hadn’t taken it in to begin with because she wasn’t backing down.

(Not that Steve had ever seen Nancy Wheeler back down.)

“I know you have trouble juggling your parents' plans with your own.” Nancy said, and her tone was absolutely icy now. “I certainly remember waiting for a date that never happened.”

Steve sucked in a breath through his teeth, knowing immediately what Nancy was referring to.

“I told you they came home unexpectedly.” He said, arms now crossed against his chest, nails digging into his arms as a way to help himself stay grounded. “They wouldn’t let me use the phone until the next day and I apologized.”

“And I recall having a lovely conversation with your mother where she said otherwise.” Nancy said, her words punctuated by another high pitched “Uhhhh.” from Robin.

“Funny how you believe my mom over me.” Steve said and whoops, yup, he definitely sounded mad now.

So much for all the effort he’d put in to staying calm.

“Because I look at actions, Steve. Patterns. The same ones you kept repeating.” Nancy was clearly about to escalate, and Robin, bless her, had had enough.

“He-eeey.” She said, wedging herself in between Steve and the counter Nancy was starting to lean over. “I totally get it, you’re both upset, but this maybe isn’t the venue to fight about it? There are customers in the store and--sorry Nancy--but I do kinda need Steve for work, so…”

She trailed off, glancing nervously between the two of them.

Nancy took a breath, blasting it out of her mouth like an academically inclined dragon. “You’re right. I’m sorry Robin.”

She then turned on her heel, making her way to the doors. She paused before them, and Steve prepared himself because he knew whatever she was going to say next, it was going to hurt.

“I wouldn’t care if it was just me, Steve, but the kids don’t deserve you pulling this shit. Not after all they’ve been through.” With that, Nancy pushed through the door, head held high as she stormed to her car.

As was typical for Nancy’s aim, she scored a direct hit.

Steve, somehow, resisted throwing things.

“Can you believe her!?” He said, the second the doors were closed and Nancy safely out of eyeshot. “Coming in here like that!?”

He ran his hand through his hair, once, twice.

A third time for good measure.

“Yeah, that was seriously public for her.” Robin agreed, sliding up next to him. “Like really public.”

Steve shrugged, because well. Not really.

Not anymore.

But Robin didn’t know that, just like Robin wasn’t entirely familiar with the depths Steve’s parents went to save face. They hadn’t exactly had time to really dig into it all, given how fast the Vecna situation had hit after Starcourt and the sheer PTSD both incidents had caused.

Most nights they spent together was spent trying to avoid reliving nightmares, not discussing ones they were currently still living in.

A fact that Steve was more than happy to bring her up to speed on, but to do so involved a lot of backstory, and backstory involved Nancy, and God, he was fucking pissed at Nancy.

Soon it was an hour into his rant and he hadn’t actually gotten around to the sheer level of shit his parents would pull, too busy with Nancy and old echoes of ‘bullshit.’

He only stopped when Robin put a hand on his shoulder, shaking him ever so slightly.

“Dingus. You know I love you, and I know you’ve changed, but you do gotta admit, canceling at the last minute is kinda shitty and I get why they’re upset.”

It was like the carpet had been pulled right out from under Steve, yanked so quickly he’d have to pinwheel to keep his feet.

“What?” He said, eyes round in sheer surprise.

“I just mean like, I get your parents are dicks but,” Robin’s face screwed up, looking like she’d sucked a lemon. It was her “I’m going to say something you don’t like face” and it hit Steve like a punch to the gut.

“Our shift’s almost over and no offense, you’ve started to repeat yourself about Nance, and I get it! I do, memory shit is hard!” Robin’s hands moved as she talked, her bracelets jingling as if punctuating her point.

“But I also think admitting you double booked yourself on accident and just taking responsibility for it would help smooth things over. Middle ground, you know?” Robin waggled her hands in a gesture that, for the first time in a long time, Steve didn’t understand.

He found himself suddenly struggling to breathe.

“Are you--are you saying you think I didn’t tell them I had a trip already planned?”

Steve wasn’t sure how he managed to get it out. Wasn’t sure how he was doing anything, given the heat that was shooting through him, a hot mix of confusion and betrayal as Robin fidgeted to his left.

“No! Okay well,” The lemon face got worse for a second. “I’m just saying you did kinda forget to pick me up that one time, and you do kinda blame your parents when stuff like that happens.” She bit a nail, peering at him out of the corner of her eyes.

“I don’t--” Steve said, completely knocked adrift. “I…”

Robin didn’t believe him.

His Robin.

Who wasn’t--wasn’t exactly siding with Nancy, but wasn’t saying she was wrong either, or that she understood that this shit was out of his control, and in fact, was kind of implying that Nancy was right more so than Steve was and---and--

There was a ringing in Steve’s ears he wasn’t sure actually existed.

“I’m sure a lot of it is your brain injury. The doctors said your short term memory can take a while to fully come back and I totally get why you don’t wanna say that, I just, I think it would be better if--Steve?” Robin jumped back as Steve finally found his footing, swiping his jacket and punching out before she could catch how badly his hands were shaking.

“I’m leaving.” Steve told her, his own words a million miles away, entirely uncaring if Keith fired him.

Keith was likely going to fire him anyway, given Steve was about to ask for a week-long vacation not even four months after the whole Vecna ordeal.

“Wait, Steve, hey--Dingus! I wasn’t done, I mean, I had more to say I, dammit Steve--!” Robin called after him frantically as Steve bolted for the door.

Steve ignored her, aiming for the Beemer and swinging himself numbly into the driver's seat when he got it open.

Put the car in park and avoided Robin’s face entirely as he backed it out, punching the gas far harder than he needed to.

The Beemer roared in response, nose rising as it shot forward.

Robin was his best friend. His fucking--platonic soulmate, as she kept calling him. The very idea that she agreed with Nancy in general was a blow but in this?

Against his parents?

Nausea rolled angrily in Steve’s stomach, matching the sudden wetness that coated his eyes.

Angry and needing an outlet, Steve stomped hard on the gas, taking the next corner far too sharp and making the beemer fishtail, tires squealing .

He didn’t know where he was going.

He figured he’d find out when he got there.

xXx

Given what Steve knew about the universe at large, (nevermind Hawkins) it probably wasn’t the smartest thing to hang around the Quarry at night.

But then, summer was in full swing. Kids were home from college and itching to find a place to party without parental overhead.

Deep to the left side of the water, around a few bends and tucked oh so neatly out of sight, was a place where one could do just that.

Party.

This stretch had long been claimed by the college kids of Hawkins, and guarded zealously for it.

With the sheer number of drunk people whooping and hollering around the bonfires below the ridge where everyone parked their cars, Steve figured he was safe enough.

Even if he was up with said cars, sitting alone.

Not like it mattered. If a demodog or demogorgan or demo-fucking-dragon decided to come along, Steve had half a mind to just let it have him.

It felt easier than trying to fix the current mess his life was in.

So he sat up here, blowing through the alcohol he’d purchased from the one gas station that never carded, drinking his problems away.

(That also wasn’t the best course of action but with his parents home to spring the whole “vacation” ordeal on him, it wasn’t like Steve had a choice.)

He hadn’t grabbed a lot--had been so damn upset and struggling to hide it that he’d picked up a four pack of wine coolers instead of the intended beer he’d wanted. It was all he had though, and so he chugged the last bottle with a wince and wished he was a hell of a lot drunker than he felt.

Then promptly caught sight of the person walking towards him, and wondered vaguely if he was drunker than he felt.

Of all the people to come and offer him a can of beer, Steve would have never expected Tommy Hagan.

He eyed it and his old friend both, before slowly reaching out and taking the can.

“Heard you and your parents are doing CoHo this year.” Tommy said casually, leaning up against the front of the Beemer like it was old times.

“Yup.” Steve replied, drawing the word out.

“Angie Tideman’s parents are going, they’re bringing her ith .” Tommy said it casually, and had the good graces not to grin when Steve audibly groaned.

“Oh god.”

Tommy sucked on a lip, nodding absently. “Yeah.”

Then; “It gets worse.”

Steve, who now knew what this conversation was about, instantly began tearing into the beer can. “How can it get worse? You know what Angie’s like.”

Angie, whose full name was Angelina, lived a few towns over. Born to wealthy parents who doted on their beloved only child, Angie had more in common with your average shark than she did her fellow humans.

A comparison that, frankly, was unkind to sharks.

She was without a doubt the most selfish person Steve had ever had the misfortune of encountering, and the mere idea of being trapped in a room with her made his skin crawl.

Their parents were business buddies though, and god forbid he ever insult a business buddies kid,

“She goes to Purdue, you know, with me and Carol.” Tommy said, instead of answering directly. “We cross paths a lot, party wise.”

Steve stayed silent.

Knew how Tommy talked, how his stories meandered. Especially the juicy ones.

“She’s been talking a lot recently. Given you don’t look all that informed, I’m gonna assume the one person she hasn’t talked to is you.”��

Steve gripped the can of beer, a sudden, sick fear blooming in his gut.

“Tommy.” He said mildly, not loud enough to really interrupt, but with enough force to let his former friend know to get to the point, now.

“Got all super fancy right before we left for summer break. Hair done, whole new wardrobe, nails, you know.” Tommy waggled his fingers playfully, but dropped them when Steve just stared. “Went full whore on us. I swear she was making out with any guy who even looked at her--”

“Tommy.” He repeated, this time a hell of a lot firmer.

Done pushing, Tommy let go of the proverbial bombshell. “Apparently you’re planning on proposing to her this summer. She’s gonna return next year as an engaged woman, with you in tow, because apparently, you got into Purdue. Congrats by the way.”

Tommy clapped him on the shoulder, right as Steve’s mouth went dry.

For the second time that day, he found himself fighting the burning heat of embarrassment and fury as it rolled through him.

“I’m proposing.” Steve said, as if saying it out loud would scare the very idea away. “To Angie.”

“Yeah we kinda figured you didn’t know.” Tommy said with a snide little grin. To the average outsider it was mocking, but Steve knew better.

Tommy was uncomfortable, because Tommy had understood what Steve’s parents had done.

“What I’d like to know is just how much Angie’s parents paid to get you into Purdue. That’s gotta be a minimum fifty thousand dollar donation at least.” Tommy removed his hand, to instead lean his shoulder against Steve’s. Like this was the old times, before they’d fought. “ I didn’t think they had that kind of money to throw around.”

A past conversation with his father struck Steve, running through the front of his mind like a bad horror movie.

“They sold the estate.” Steve said vacantly, the implications not quite hitting. “The one they’ve been trying to get rid of forever, over in Cape Cod.”

“Oh shit.” Tommy said, blinking as he too, recalled what was likely his father telling him the very same news.

“They sold the place on Cape Cod, and they used part of the funds to fucking buy me like a toy.” And yeah, saying it out loud, it definitely sounded bad. “I didn’t think Angie even liked me.”

“Does Angie like anyone?” Tommy asked, incredulously, but nudged Steve’s shoulder again when his joke didn’t net him the laugh he wanted.. “I mean, you had to know your old man had plans to straighten you out. He keeps getting mad at my dad, because the ass won't stop making jokes that I’m going to take over the company instead of you.”

“And this is it. Attaching me to Angie.” Steve said vacantly. “Because they know if I get married…”

He’d put his wife first. His family, first.

The one he’d wanted, dreamed of, since he first realized he didn’t have one.

He’d been playing checkers the entire time, too busy fighting fucking monsters and Russians to realize his parents had upgraded to chess.

In a dizzying array of mental connect-the-dots, Steve replayed the last years worth of conversations. All the odd little things they’d said. All the dumb things Steve had just ignored.

They’d warned him.

Had told him he better shape up, or they’d be forced to do something drastic.

That his parents hadn’t wasted all this time, effort, money on him, for him to throw away his life like he was.

“You better start acting right and figuring out how to get your life back on track, because you won’t like what happens if I have to fix it for you. You get a month Steven, and after that? Well. Just remember you forced my hand, Steven.”

They knew. They knew him, and what made him tick.

“I think the real question is what Angie’s parents see in you.” Tommy teased, but then they both knew the answer to that puzzle.

For all that Steve’s mom complained about her husband, the guy was a shrewd and calculating businessman. Those weekends, then weekdays, then more and more time away hadn’t just been so he could go screw his secretary.

Richard Harrington had fast tracked his business to the point where it was now getting attention. The business journal, ‘Top 50 Companies to Watch’ kind.

Even if Steve fucked up entirely, he was set to inherit a fortune and a business that would continue adding to it, for some time to come.

Provided he did what his parents wanted.

Such as marrying Angie.

Thing was, if his parents did what they always did, and held their wealth (his car, his home, his life and all the little things in it) against him like a gun to his head, if Angie got that ring around her finger?

Steve would bow to their whims.

Because they could fluster him into proposing so he didn’t embarrass Angie, and her parents and anyone else who’d undoubtedly be watching. They’d make a spectacle of it.

Because once he did propose, they wouldn’t let him back out, burying him under guilt trips and veiled threats until he was marched down the aisle in a groomsman suite and told to stand.

Because against all common sense, Steve wanted a family who loved him so desperately he’d chase it like a dog if he was presented with the opportunity and told to make it work.

It didn’t matter that Angie was selfish.

Steve would try anyway.

His parents were maneuvering him as easily as they had back when he was a kid, using love as a tool to get him to do what they wanted and even seeing the nose hanging from the rafters, they knew just the right words to get him to place it around his neck.

“Thought you’d wanna know.” Tommy finished, pushing himself off Steve’s car. “Before your parents sprung it on you.”

“Sonofabitch.” Steve hissed angrily, a million thoughts racing through his head, the heat of being caught in a trap blasting down his spine.

“Yeah.” Tommy added, rather unhelpfully. “But hey, given that you’re about to go on vacation to propose, why don’t we consider this,” here Tommy swept his hand, gesturing to the party below, “your proposal party?”

It was a downright horrible idea.

But then, Steve didn’t exactly have a better one.

Not when the world itself seemed against him, grinding its heel into his back and laughing about it.

He knew the drill. If he went down there, arm in arm with Tommy, then it wouldn’t matter that half those kids were from a few towns over, driven in by new college buddies.

They’d see him as a reason to get wild, absolutely uncaring that they didn’t know who the hell he was.

Steve needed that.

People who weren’t mad at him, buying into the easy lies his parents wove, or who didn't understand the games played against him.

“Fuck it.” He announced, standing up from the hood of his car as Tommy’s grin morphed into something he used to see in the days of old, back when they were sneaking drinks from their parents' alcohol cabinets. “This way at least I get a party.”

Not like his parents were going to let him have an engagement party. Or a bachelor party, or likely let his ass back into Hawkins.

No matter how long the engagement.

Tommy cheered, raising his arms to the sky and Steve grinned wildly with him.

He’d figure out how to get out of all this later--but for now, he wanted just a few damn hours where he didn’t have to think.

Not about his parents, or Angie, or possible attempts to force him into marriage, like this was the yee olden days and Steve was a Victorian maiden who needed to be brought to heel.

Likewise he didn’t want to think about the Party, or Russian torture, or how Nancy could be so damn smart in some things and downright stupid in others.

He absolutely didn't want to think about Robin.

“Hey boys and girls, look who I drug up!” Tommy yelled as they approached and soon, word had spread.

This was Steve’s proposal party, and he was here to get absolutely smashed (while encouraging everyone else to do the exact same, in his honor.)

Which would be how Eddie found him a few hours later.

Still at the quarry, crossfaded off his ass, a forty in one hand and a lawn dart in the other.

“Are you kidding me, Steve?” Eddie grit out, desperately trying to wrestle the lawn dart out of his hand. “You’re fucking partying with Tommy Hagan!?”

Steve blinked at him a few times, finally catching on that Eddie was in fact, actually there.

“When did you show up?” He asked, though given the wince on Eddie’s face and just how hard it had been to move his lips, Steve correctly assumed he’d slurred the shit out of the question.

Somehow, Eddie understood him anyway.

“Robin called me a while ago, gave me a list of places you might be. Almost skipped this one until I stepped out of my van to take a piss and heard the party.” Eddie explained, and somehow while doing so, he’d successfully gotten a hold of the dart.

He was now working on removing the 40 ounce.

Steve frowned, using his newly freed hand to grip it closer to his chest.

“Harrington.” Eddie warned, and oh, wow, they were back to last names huh?

Well why not, it wasn't like his night could get worse.

“This is mine, Munson.” Steve fired back, putting as much vitriol into Eddie’s last name as he could.

This did not detour the metalhead.

“Come on man, give me the bottle.” Eddie said firmly.

Steve shook his head stubbornly, enjoying the way his hair whipped at his face. “No.”

Another man stumbled over, a guy Steve absolutely did not know. He frowned, looking between Eddie and Steve.

For two seconds, Steve thought they might have trouble, and given the way Eddie was tensing, he clearly thought so too.

Instead, New Guy just kind of rocked on his heels. “Hey, shove off it, buddy. It’s this guy's bachelor party, let the man drink!”

Eddie’s face did something complicated then, pulling the sort of expressive looks only he could manage.

It was both adorable and hilarious, and if Steve hadn’t just been reminded of the very reason he was drinking, he’d have told Eddie so.

“Yeah!” He said instead, raising his hand in the air, toasting his bottle of forty against the other guy’s red solo cup. “It’s my proposalengagmentbachelor party!”

Given the second, adorable-slash-hilarious look on Eddie’s face, Steve assumed those words hadn’t come out right either.

“Okay.” Eddie said hands on his hips in a stance Steve was pretty sure Eddie had gotten from him. “Here’s what's going to happen. You’re going to put the bottle away. Then you’re going to give me your car keys, and then the two of us are going to my house to sleep whatever is happening here, off.”

At least, that's what Steve thought he heard. It was a pretty un-Eddie like speech, and Steve maybe, might have been the one to say it, because he maybe, might have been mocking what Eddie had actually said.

Maybe.

It was hard to know, given that Steve’s thoughts were a thick soup on a bit of a time delay, and he was having a hard time figuring up from down, let alone what Eddie had been actually saying.

Speaking of;

“When did I get into your car?” Steve asked, blinking as the van’s passenger seat appeared before him.

“Just now.” Eddie said, helping him in.

“Huh.” Said Steve, and then he maybe passed out a bit, because once again, he found himself awake and alert at a place that wasn’t where he’d just been.

“Come on.” Eddie said gently, one of Steve’s arms over his shoulder as Steve leaned heavily into him, guiding the jock up the stairs and into the small house he and Wayne now called a home.

The guy might have muttered a few things about bachelor parties along the way, but Steve was too focused on walking straight to really take notice.

Part Two

#lol remember when I said I wasnt posting parts to stuff until they were finished #THAT SURE LASTED LONG #pre steddie #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #0o0 fanfics #This is very Steve focused #TW his horrible parents #VERY hurt #comforts later #with eddie!#I really wanted to explore Steves Parents #in proper Rich Asshole Controling fashion #TW forced marriage #or mentions of #I also wanted to explore a lot of how the kids #and Nancy and Robin (who are also STILL kids #would react because sure they came up against monsters and the government #but neither of those things want you to like them #theyll let you know theyll eat you #Steves parents #like many rich dicks #want to isolate #want you to think theyre amazing #and its often the inner circle who knows whats up but are also caught in their own chokechain #hence the title of this fic #whiiiich is chokechain #stranger things #tw drinking

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painsandconfusion · 1 year

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Whumpy Moments #36

Whumper coming home after a bad day. They slam the door as they get inside, throwing their stuff next to the door and calling for Whumpee.

Whumpee skitters in, already apologizing for who knows what, expecting to be punished or at least hurt for whatever's angering Whumper.

Whumper sets their jaw, ignoring it. They snatch Whumpee, and drag them to the couch. Whumpee's already starting to cry, begging - again, who knows what for.

But Whumper just pulls Whumpee onto their lap, both arms wrapping tight around their middle. Face pressed into Whumpee's neck.

They go still, just....staying like that, not caring about Whumpee's tension or how slowly it unwinds.

Because they're tired.

And after a day like today, they just needed a fucking hug.

#whumpy moments #idk have a prompt #forced comfort #kinda #intimate whumper

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bigassmoonchild · 8 months

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price loves you. he does, he loves you with all of his being. but sometimes, he gets so scared. sometimes, things happen and all he can do is stare while you sleep, trying to memorize your face like it’s the last time he’ll ever see it.

the last mission had him writing a note, one he was hoping would never be found on his body, one he hoped you’d never read. and when he got home to you, he tucked it under a few loose items in a drawer you hadn’t gone into.

my love;

if you’re reading this, i’m gone. you are the one person who i would do anything to protect, you have become the reason i am fighting to keep people safe at night.

i hoped i would eventually fight to make the world safer for our kids, but clearly that hasn’t happened. maybe it has, but not soon enough. i can only wish to watch over them, as i will always watch over you.

you are the world to me, and if it means dying for the world, i would do it everyday. i truly hope you can eventually move on, find a person and settle down with them and create your own little family with someone who isn’t constantly fighting off death itself, but i can only hope.

keep living, my love, and keep dreaming.

forever yours, John.

he’d found you, sitting on the floor of the kitchen and sobbing, note pressed against your chest. he couldn’t do much other than watch you, for a few moments, before kneeling down and pulling you to him.

he hadn’t even gotten out of his uniform, nor had he taken his boots off. he pulled you close and listened to you sob into his chest, your hands pulling the shirt tight into them.

‘i’m here, love,’ he whispered into your hair.

‘i thought you’d died, john,’ you whispered back, glossy eyes staring up at him. he gave you a smile, pressing a kiss to your hair.

he leaned back and wiped your tears. ‘i should’ve burnt that letter,’ he said, pulling you up and throwing it in the trash. ‘i wrote that a few missions ago, one where i hadn’t thought we’d make it out,’

you leaned into his chest, listening to his heart beat steadily. he was still here, breathing and holding you in his arms. his hands rubbing your back, your sobs turning to hiccups which turned into deep breaths.

‘i won’t go out easy,’ he murmured. ‘i’ll fight until my last breath, just to make it back to you,’

#angst #hurt/comfort #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #cod mw2 #call of duty x reader #modern warfare ii #no use of y/n #task force 141 #call of duty #captain john price #john price #mw2 x reader #call of duty mw2

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vixen7243 · 21 days

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Bubbly

John Price x AFAB!Reader

Self indulgent, needy, tired, needing a big bear to make me relax ramble... Enjoy🙌

MDNI!!!

The week had been unbearably long, people being rude, condescending, loud ignorant and testing your last nerve. The only thing really kinda holding you together the whole time is knowing that this weekend John had promised he cleared his schedule and the two of you were going to go on a little road trip together, to no where specific, just using it as an excuse to get away together. Although you thought you had cleared a shitty week without snapping or breaking, your boss had pushed you over the edge, humiliating you in front of your coworkers blaming you for something that you had nothing to do with, yelling right in your face, while then pulling you into his office to make back handed apologies and hitting on you, making you sick.

Getting into your car to head home, you let a few aggravated tears fall freely not caring to try and hold yourself together any more, you couldn't. Pulling into the drive you wiped your cheeks, grabbing your bags you got out and made your way inside, dropping your bags with a huff. Making your way into the living room meeting John half way you slumped into him, head resting into his pecs, shaking your head slightly into them, shutting the world off now that you were in his arms. John didn't miss your red eyes, or flushed cheeks as you walked to him, giving you a moment to just relax in his arms before he questioned what happened, he squeezed you into him kissing the top of your head.

"Hello my darling, how was your day?"

"Shit."

John hummed, squeezing your sides, not pulling away till you do, and once you did he cupped your cheeks, thumbs swiping under your eyes feeling the still present tears. Scowling slightly he held on as you tried to pull away, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not yet, I'll only break down before getting anything out."

Nodding his head, he pulled you back to him picking you up bridal style, "Come with me, I'll draw you a bath." Smiling at him you wrapping your arms around his neck kissing his cheek, letting him carry you down the hall to your shared room, sitting you on the counter in your bathroom, he went to the tub, clogging the drain, and turning the water on, holding his hand under the running water waiting and making sure it was the perfect temperature, then pouring in bath salts, bubbles and a sparkly soup bomb. Turning back to you, he slowly undressed you, kissing every inch of exposed skin as he went, it wasn't sexual but more sensual and sweet as he went, pleasant praise drifting from his lips making you smile down at him as he slowly raised himself.

Grabbing a hold of your hips he picked you up again and brought you to the tub, gently helping you ease into the water, letting the water fill up a bit more, he took your hair out of the messy bun, grabbing your brush, he slowly worked through the knots and gently brushed your hair before helping you get it wet and massaging your scalp. After work every inch of your scalp he turned the water off, as he was about to kneel to massage the rest of your body you looked up to him blissfully, "Will you join me John?"

Never being one to tell you no, he striped off his clothes and carefully got in behind you, pulling your back flush against his hair chest, kissing your shoulders. "You're so beautiful, is there anything you want specifically for dinner?" Shaking your head you rested your arms on his thighs, squeezing his knees smiling as his hands starting working on massaging your back, shoulders, neck, arms. You were starting to feel like putty in his hands as you let him rub you down, when his hands got to your waist, you couldn't help the wetness of your cunny, and not referring to the bath. Rubbing your own hands slowly up and down his thighs, or at least as much as you can reach, you moaned when his hands pushed into the apex of your thighs and hips. Squeezing his thighs close to your hips you turned your head looking up into his eyes, kissing him softly, before leaning back up and kissing him again longer. Pulling back you continued to look up at him as his hands moved to between your thighs...massaging between them, fingers working small circles into your clit, and others dipping slowly into you curling and turning rubbing as much as they could reach. "Oh, darling."

Pouting up to him, you twisted you arm to behind you, feeling his twitch cock against your back, grazing it with your hand, "John." Kissing him again you moved your hips more into his hands when you felt him push a few fingers into your g-spot, making your toes curl slightly and widen your legs. His fingers slowly worked you up to a orgasm that rolled over you like a wave, it was a slow roll through you as he continued to work you through it. Sliding away from him momentarily, you turned, facing him, the water sloshing around the both of you, moving your legs to either side of him, laying over the front of him, bubble's sliding down your breasts. Grabbing onto his shoulders you leaned forward, kiss slow and gentle as he grabbed onto your waist with one hand and his other going back to your core, fingers working to gently stretch you and prep you, and anytime you would try to rush the kiss and move your hips fast against his hand, he would pull back whispering to you, "Slow darling, slow. I got you."

The pace was driving you insane, but you appreciated the attention he was giving to make sure you were properly relaxed and cared for. Feeling the knot in your tummy form you tried your best to not rush through the orgasm, huffing against his lips trying to keep the kiss going through it. "God, John, please, I need you, please just..."

Sliding you up his body, he guiding his dick right up to you, helping you slide down, seating you perfecting on him, both of you groaning as you slowly rocked yourself on him. "There you go darling." Whimpering you leaned back into him, still not feeling close enough to him, you held him, pushing your hands into his hair as his arms wrapped around you holding you to him steadily. Feeling that you were trying to quickly grind into him, he continued to slow you down, "Slow darling, slow, we've all night, for now, just feel." Letting his arms guide the pace you listened to him, slowing down and just feeling,

Loosing yourself into him, you felt so full of him, grateful that he knew you inside and out, easily wiping your mind clear of everything and making you be the center of everything. After breathing into each other and taking in everything, you could feel that heavy, blissful end slowly building in you, as his cock twitched against your cervix, pushed down into him a little more you grunted, your walls tightening hard around him, hips rutting uncontrollably against him, eye brows scrunched as you came, feeling him also cum inside you.

Stilling you slid down him slightly, his cock still buried in you, the both of you rested in the water, the silence comfortable to the both of you. No longer caring about the week, or anything that had happened that day, you felt better being there in his arms. "I love you John."

"I love you more darling."

#call of duty #task force 141 #john price #x reader #smut #john price smut #18+ mdni #comfort #bubbly #bubble bath #tough week #supportivecare #mental health #praise k!nk #giver #john price x reader #captain price #captain john price

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saltpepperbeard · 4 months

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if nothing else, ed and stede are in their lovely little inn together. it's just them; the world is their oyster. they're rebuilding it, and also rebuilding themselves.

they can love, and be loved, without any sort of threat.

they're safe.

#OFMD #Gentlebeard #Blackbonnet #Edward Teach #Stede Bonnet #As I swing on my grief pendulum #And as I go downward #This is a thought that comforts me #Like...if...//IF// our story is indeed to end here #That's where they are #They're in a place with no threats #A place with no violence #A place with no outside forces making them be something they aren't #They're just there with each other #And can just love and BE

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jordanstrophe · 2 months

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Caretaker picks whumpee up and places them gently in the car. "We need to get you to a hospital." They say hastily.

"No, no I'm okay." Whumpee speaks behind gritted teeth. They're holding their wound and tensing with each pulse of pain, they're somehow willing themselves to not grunt or cry out.

"I wasn't asking, you need to get checked out. Lean back a bit, just lie still." Caretaker puts their seat back and starts the engine, ignoring whumpee's pleads and arguing.

The car ride was tense and quiet, until whumpee breaks the silence with crying.