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purplecoffee13 · 8 months ago

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Mr Sunshine - Part Three

Summary: “Harry takes you somewhere to celebrate, and it leads to some clarifying revelations.”

Wc: 5k (I’m guessing)

Tropes: grumpy!mc x sunshine!H

Warnings: talks about being drugged, SA, trauma

A/N: Hi! I’m back😎. Here’s the new sunshine chapter and the next one will be coming soon (and will be steamy! Be prepared!)

Series Masterlist

General Masterlist

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On Saturday evening, at 3:34 p.m. to be exact, Harry calls you. You aren’t quite sure why you remembered the exact minute. Perhaps it has to do with the fact that you rarely ever received calls from anyone that wasn’t your family. You had never thought it to be pathetic, but knowing the exact time at which he called made you realize that maybe it was.

You stare at your phone with a frown on your face. What on earth could Harry be calling you for? Once out of your state of shock, you scramble to grab your phone and answer his call.

“Hello?” You say, in a rather confused tone. For a second you wonder if something terrible has happened. Maybe he is in the hospital!

“Guess what.” Harry says from the other side of the line in his usual chipper tone. You roll your eyes and let yourself fall back onto your bed. You guess you’re glad he isn’t dying, but what on earth could he be calling you for then? And now you had to guess it? This guy could never just cut to the chase.

“What?” You huff.

“You have to guess, otherwise it’s not fun.” He insists, a breathy chuckle escaping his throat. “So… guess!”

“The world is ending.” You reply in your staple, monotone voice, laced with a thick layer of sarcasm. A sigh sounded from the other end of the phone.

“Is there not an ounce of positivity in your entire body?”

“What?” You faked your offense, trying to get on his nerves for once. “You told me to guess.”

“But why is it that something sinister like imminent doom is the first thing that comes to your mind?” He asks, sounding genuinely puzzled about it. You fight your lips from quirking up.

“I mean, it’s bound to happen eventually.” You shrug, even though he can’t see you. “I figure, if I guessing it, one day I ought to be right.”

“I will never be asking you to guess anything ever again.”

“Smart boy.” You praise him. “Now are you gonna tell me what’s up?”

“Right, yes.” Harry takes a deep breathe. “I passed— the test, I mean. I got an A.”

You smile, but try your hardest not to let it show in the way you talk. “I told you you were gonna ace it, dumb ass.

“Thanks… I think?” Harry replies after a few seconds of silence born out of confusion. He chuckles ever so awkwardly, shaking his head at your unusual ways. You can’t see it of course, but he is grinning from ear to ear. You are the first one he called actually. There was no one in the world he would’ve rather told first. Not even his mom, who had been drilling him about the exam for the past weeks.

“Yeah, never doubt you teacher again.” You say sarcastically, laughing along with your friend on the line.

“I won’t, I promise.” Harry assures you. “But it’s not the only reason I called you, though.”

Your swear you feel your heart stand still for a second. An overwhelming amount of anxiety takes over your body the second the sentence falls from Harry’s mouth and you find yourself beginning to sweat.

“Oh?” Is all you manage to say.

“I am also calling to tell you that you need to be ready by eight.”

“Why?”

“We are going to celebrate of course!” Harry’s voice rings through your phone and your eyes close as you let out a little sigh and mutter an ‘oh God’.

“God won’t release you from the wrath of my grip, sunshine.” You quite literally hear the smirk in his voice.

“Now who’s being sinister?” You say, shaking your head slowly.

“Well, I learned from the best, didn’t I?”

“And the brightest.” You add cheekily.

“Sure. Be ready at 8.” Harry reminds you. You give him a small ‘yes’ as a confirmation, but before you can hang up, Harry adds: “oh, and don’t bring your ego, it won’t fit in the car.”

You let out a loud sigh in response and hang up the phone, but your cheeks are burning and your mouth hurts. Weird, your mouth never hurts. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and instantly relax those muscles. This is ridiculous. You will not be giggling over some guy.

“Stupid girl.” You murmur, pointing to your own reflection in the mirror.

But your confrontation with yourself does not quite stop you from counting down the hours until it is acceptable to get ready. You take a long shower and blow dry your hair, instead of letting it dry like you normally do. You also apply more make-up than you do on the regular. You would wear more make-up on a daily basis—you love to use it—but you have a tendency to oversleep.

Instead of the usual five to ten, it actually takes you fifteen minutes to pick out an outfit. There is a dress that has been hanging in your closet for far too long. And you really want to wear it, as this is the first time in almost a year that you have made concrete plans with a friend. The thought of it pains your stomach. God you have really isolated yourself ever since…

Oh well, that’s all changed now. You actually have a friend these days, or at least you think?

Nevertheless, you spend ten of the fifteen minutes wondering if the dress is not too much (it is the most casual dress you have hanging in your closet), and then you spend the remaining five actually putting the piece of clothing on your body.

It is 7:30pm by the time you give yourself one last look in the mirror. You put on a comfortable pair of high boots and wait on the couch until Harry arrives. You sent him your address after the call, and so far you haven’t gotten any messages about him being lost, so you think he’s good.

Sure enough, at 8:00pm on the dot, the bell rings. You force yourself to slowly walk to your door—you have no idea why—and take a breath before you open it up.

Upon opening the door, you are met with Harry’s wide smile—which he always wears. His hands are in his pocket and you watch his mouth slowly open—as if to say something—and close again before letting his eyes trail down your body. He looks quite surprised. You don’t blame him—you aren’t often in clothes like these.

Harry himself is dressed up a bit too. Not as much, but he doesn’t need to if he wants to look good; he just kind of does. The all black outfit works for him. The short sleeved dress shirt and the pants go perfectly together, as do the boots and belt he paired them with. You’re almost jealous of him for making such a simple outfit look so fabulous.

“You look…” Harry says, then trails off while he does a weak attempt at trying to find your eyes again. You are the most beautiful person he’s ever seen, how can that be? “Wow.”

“Wow?” You echo.

“Unexpected.”

“I look unexpected?” The corner of your mouth lifts but you hold it as best as you can.

“No— I mean yes— wait…” He frown, as lost in his words as you are, and thinks for a second before offering his final answer. “Yes, you look unexpected.”

“In a way that makes me want to say ‘thank you’ or throw the door in your face?” You tilt your head ever so slightly. Harry chuckles and shakes his head.

“I just mean to say that you always look good, and tonight you look good in an unexpected way.” You notice his cheeks turning a bit pink, and in turn so do your own. You have to bite the inside of your cheek to refrain yourself from giggling like a fucking idiot.

“Well, thank you, then.” You say. Harry murmurs a ‘your welcome’ and nods his head to the car before taking a few steps back, signaling you walk with him. You close your front door, lock it, and follow him to his car. He opens the door for you, and upon entering the car you don’t forget to tell him that he’s an ‘idiot’, but your heart flutters anyway.

Harry is mysteriously vague about where he’s planning on taking you, and he doesn’t say anything other than ‘you’ll see’ the entire drive. Your stomach drops when you finally do see.

You are parked in front of the frat house that was throwing a party tonight. You were already confused as to why you guys were driving through campus, but now you know why; it’s the quickest way to get there.

Your terror filled stare finds Harry’s face, who wears some sort of a pride filled smirk, but it fades a bit at the sight of you. You are starting to freak out. What the hell does he think he’s doing?

“Hey, it’s okay.” He says in a soft voice, but you just shake your head. Instead of saying anything else, he steps out of the car and walks to the door on your side, opening it for you. He holds out his hand, and despite the slight panic that has been ringing through your body, you take it. Harry leads you to the trunk of the car. He lets go of your hand to open it, and when he does, you’re met with three cool-boxes, all lined up in a row. When he takes off all the lids, you see what is inside.

Every cool-box has different drinks in them. The far left one has got water, sparkling water, and water with different tastes to it. The middle one has all kinds of sodas, and the one on the right is filled with juices and smoothies. Apple juice, orange juice, a mango and banana smoothie… you name it.

Your mouth hangs slightly open, taking in the view of the trunk. You want to form a full sentence but your mind can’t comprehend much right now.

“What…” You begin to say, but your mind trails off.

“You said you don’t drink at parties, at all.” Harry turns his body towards you, despite the fact that you are still staring at the cool-boxes. “I don’t know why that is—and you don’t have to tell me—but I assumed it had something to do with a bad experience. Anyway— I thought this was the perfect solution. This way we can stay hydrated and nothing can happen to the drinks because the car is locked. You can keep the car key in your purse if that makes you more comfortable.”

You don’t say anything, just stare at him with wide eyes. Harry isn’t quite certain what your take on the matter is, and it is starting to make him doubt his decisions.

“I— I’m sorry if this crosses a line. I just really wanted to bring you along and meet my friends.” He scratches the back of his neck as a nervous tic. His jaw is clenched the entire time as he looks back into your eyes. Your gaze is terrifying to him, in spite of it seeming softer than normal.

“Thank you, dork.” You say after finally being able to gather your breath. It makes you realize that you are utterly screwed. You like Harry. As more than a friend? Maybe? You don’t know, you haven’t experienced something like that before, but you know that your connection with Harry runs deeper than you had planned.

“My pleasure, sunshine.” Harry responds, and his dimples start to show. Your head turns back to the cool-boxes, hoping Harry can’t see the blood that has rushed to your cheeks. You start eyeing all the drinks, but settle on water in the end.

“Can I?” You ask ever so hesitantly. Harry gets all fuzzy the second you ask the question, and happily nods. He watches with a big smile as you reach for the water and open up the bottle, sitting against the trunk as you take a few sips.

There is no exchange of words between the two of you, only glances. But those tell you a thousand things, though. He seems to be pleased, and your eyes tell him that you are too. In a burst of spontaneity—and something else that you are not sure of what it is—you begin to confess.

“Uhm, in my first year, I went to this party at a frat house, and someone spiked my drink.” You say, and Harry’s head flies to you. He is frowning. You aren’t sure whether that is just him concentrating or actually being shocked by your statement. You decide to take your eyes off him and keep looking straightforward. “I was unconscious and then when I woke up, I was lying on a bed with this random guy over me…”

Harry’s hand is balled up into a fist, initially because of the nervousness, but now he’s hurting himself with how hard his nails press into his palm. He never really gets angry, but these are situations in which he just can’t hide his pure unfiltered rage.

“But I did scream, a—and I said no. But it was a bit slurred, I think.” You say with wide eyes, still staring into the distance. You always quick to defend yourself on this topic, even though Harry hasn’t uttered a word yet. It is kind of preventive, you assume. That way no one can ask you what you did ‘to stop it’ and you won’t have to break out in tears, because questions like those form a lump in your throat that you fear will never go away.

“He should have never gotten alone with you in the first place, sunshine. He’s the one at fault here, not you.” Harry assures you, and your gaze automatically searches for his. It doesn’t feel quite as scary anymore to look him in the eyes. You suppose it always has felt safe.

“And he is also a dead man walking, if I ever find him.”

Your eyebrows raise at his aggressive comment. Harry had never talked about anything remotely resembling to violence. It truly catches you off guard, but it also makes your heart warm to see that he is so adamant about defending you.

“Anyway…” you trail off, hoping to calm him down a bit with the positive end to your story. “two girls in the hallway heard me and they got him off me. My roommate at the time brought me to the ER, and after that I went home.”

You temporarily pause when you hear the sigh that comes from Harry’s mouth. It doesn’t sound bored or rude, rather tired. Like he feels the weight of the burden you have carried on your shoulder for so long. Besides your parents and your former roommate, no one knows this story.

“After that, I didn’t really want to drink or go anywhere anymore. Eventually I got over my fear of going to social events, but I still don’t want to drink anything. Maybe it’s paranoid, I don’t know.” You shrug, massaging your neck a bit, mainly out of awkwardness.

“It’s not paranoia’, it’s trauma.” Harry bents down to meet your eye level, making sure you see him when he says the reassuring words. The logical part of your brain knew that, but sometimes you would get frustrated. You hated how long you had let this experience rule your life for the past three years, and quite frankly you were embarrassed about it.

You felt like getting drugged that night shattered what you thought you knew about yourself, and still do. You don’t trust yourself like you did before. That night was the ultimate example of your incompetence; it showed you that you couldn’t be trusted with yourself. It took years of therapy to mend that broken view, and the destructive thinking pattern would re-enter your brain at times.

“I don’t have many friends, none actually; my past experiences made it a bit tricky.” You blurt out, and turn red when you see Harry smile at you with his furrowed brows. “I mean— what I’m trying to say is: thank you.”

“For what?” He nudges you in your waist. You shake your head at him, a faint smirk lingering on your lips from his teasing touch.

“For being a friend.” You say, and Harry’s mouth falls open.

“Did you just refer to me as a friend?!” He gasps dramatically, leaning into you as the sentence leaves his mouth. You close your eyes and let your head fall back.

“Oh god.” You mutter tiredly. Here we go.

“Can you say that again? I want to record this.” He whips out his phone and you put your hands over your face as you let out a groan.

“You know you’re basically saying you love me more than anyone else in the world right now.” He begins to annoy you, knowing damn well what he is doing. You refuse to answer him, not wanting to play into these antics of his. “I’m interpreting your silence as a yes, by the way.”

“You know what? I’m gonna walk home.” You push yourself off the trunk. You want to walk away a few steps for dramatic effect, and like you expected, Harry puts a stop to his teasing. You don’t expect him to pull you back by your waist and turn you around towards him, though. It catches you off guard and you can’t do anything but stare at him with wide eyes.

“You’re not going anywhere.” He says, voice rougher than just a few seconds ago. Your hands are still on his chest from trying to catch yourself when he spun you towards him. The proximity of it all slowly starts to get to you, and suddenly you’re aware of how good Harry smells. He always smells good, but right now it is causing a physical reaction from you. You feel yourself start to get hot, as if the temperature just rose a couple degrees.

“Let’s go inside.”

And so you do. Harry grabs your hand like it’s no big deal, and you spend the short walk to the frat house trying to convince yourself of the same. Once inside, you stay a bit closer behind Harry, holding his bicep with your free hand as he leads you through the house.

What you don’t know is that Harry is freaking out inside at how you are touching him. He can’t believe it; you are here with him and you’re holding him like he’s yours. Even though he’s not, but he is enjoying the idea for now.

You enter the backyard, and it is full of people you have seen on campus or in class. Most people don’t bat an eye at you; they are mainly focused on Harry. A few look a bit confused at the sight of Harry with a girl, but you try your best not to overthink it all. You both finally arrive at where Harry’s friends are standing, and he is quick to introduce you.

“Everyone, this is Y/N. The girl who saved my life this term.” He says proudly, and he catches his friends looking at him knowingly. They’re probably going to be a bit of a pain in the ass, but he hopes maybe it’ll make you realize that he likes you as more than just a friend.

You smile and let go of Harry’s hand when you see two of his friends glance at it. You lean closer and greet each friend individually with a handshake. The last one, Mikey, offers you a drink and you kindly refuse. So far, it’s going great.

“How come we haven’t seen you at parties before, Y/N?” Another friend of Harry asks. You fiddle with your hands a bit, nervous because you haven’t met this many people at the same time in a long time, and you haven’t cared what this many people thought about you in a long time either.

“Uhm, not really my scene, I guess.” You answer with an awkward smile. Harry’s friends ask you some more questions and you answer all of them, even cracking a joke here and there in between. It is nerve racking, especially since you are talking so much.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” One of the girls in the group—Dina, if you remember correctly—suddenly asks. You are glad that the group has divided into small sections a bit, and only another girl and guy will hear your answer.

Harry is chatting with his friends left from him, but once that one question leaves Dina’s mouth he checks out of the conversation. He knows the answer, of course, but he still wants to hear what you have to say.

“Nope.” You shake your head, and Dina nods.

“No one on the horizon?” She asks again, excessively glancing from Harry to you. The two others start to giggle and you feel the heat rising to your cheeks. Before you can respond, Dina continues talking in a slightly louder tone. “Because if not, I have a friend of mine I can set you up with. He is great! He’s somewhere around here actually, I could introduce you if you want?”

You suddenly feel a hand snake around your waist, and you already recognize who it is before you have proper time to process it. You worry about that; is it bad to be so familiar to ones’ touch?

“D’ya want to get a drink?” Harry asks, a bit more serious than you’re used to. You nod and excuse yourself from the conversation before letting Harry lead you to his car. His hand on the small of your back makes you have to restrain yourself from melting into a puddle.

You arrive at the car and wait for Harry to open the trunk. To your surprise, he lifts you up and seats you on it, before grabbing your already opened water bottle and taking off the cap. You take it from his hands and take a few big gulps, trying not to sweat profusely at the way he is looking at you, so concentrated.

“Having fun?” Harry asks you, and you look at him, nodding your head.

“Yes, you have nice friends.” You reply, your voice a bit breathy when you realize that his left hand hasn’t left your waist.

“You feeling good then?” He asks, tilting his head ever so slightly, and for a moment you feel like all the oxygen is sucked out of your lungs. He raises his brows a bit when you don’t respond to him—instead staring at him as if in a bit of a trance—and you have to regain yourself, nodding profusely.

“Yeah?”

“Yes.” You confirm again. He grins at that. You feel like you could be set on fire any second now. You hate yourself for the way you get when he’s so close like this. You haven’t really experienced this before with him, not with anyone actually.

“One of them already tried to set me up with some guy.” You say, hoping it would throw him off and grant you a little bit of space, but instead he comes closer.

“I heard.” Harry murmurs, eyes flicking from your mouth to your eyes, calculating your every reaction in case he gets any indication that you are not comfortable. But there isn’t, because you aren’t.

“Do you think that would be a good idea?” You ask in what could almost be classified as a whisper.

“Do you?” He touches your nose with his, and there is only millimeters left between your mouths. Your eyebrows furrow at the little gap there is left. You lean forward to press your lips against Harry’s but he pulls back ever so slightly, tutting you. Before you can even stop yourself, you let out the smallest whine that could almost be passed for a huff. Harry just smirks and leans in a bit closer again, brushing your lips over his. “Well…?”

“No.” You breathe out and push your lips against his, your hand around his neck, as if it would keep him even closer than he already is.

The weeks and weeks of tension between you fades away with every second that you kiss him. The way Harry’s hands have got a hold of your hips drives you absolutely crazy and you don’t think you have ever wanted something like you want him. It’s the first time your body takes over your brain and it suddenly makes sense; why people do stupid things for love.

If your crush on Harry—or however you want to define your feelings for him—already has you clamping against him as if his touch keeps you alive, you couldn’t imagine what a fool like you in love would do. But if this only feels half as good as the real thing, you aren’t so opposed to finding out.

Harry deepens the kiss and moves one of his hands to hold your face with it, and you become even more intertwined than before. Every sense of yours is occupied with him, and vice versa. Harry feels like he might have died and gone to heaven. Either that, or you are a fallen angel that he was lucky enough to encounter.

The sound of people cheering and a couple of honks breaks the both of you out of the spell you’re under. Upon pulling out from the kiss, you see the pick-up truck with all the people on it drive by as they cheer you on. And suddenly the realization hits you: you were making out with Harry in the middle of the street!

“Y/N… I—” Harry tries to get a word in but you don’t let him, because the sound of him addressing you by your name freaks you out.

“We should get back to the party.” You blurt out, trying to walk back towards the house.

“Y/N!”

You freeze at Harry’s urgent tone of voice, and the volume of it too. He has never sounded so stern before. You slowly turn around, terrified of what he’s going to say. Or maybe you are terrified because there is something you want him to say.

“We should talk about this, sunshine.”

You feel your insides twist. There is a happy surge that is waiting to make it to your brain, but that godawful, dreadful feeling gets the best of you; fear. A fear that overflows any happiness about resolving whatever is going on between the two of you. A fear that maybe this is all a game, and you can’t trust him like you want to, because you haven’t trusted yourself again from the moment you got drugged. So, instead telling Harry how you truly feel about all of this, you just shake your head in disbelief.

“I can’t do this.” You sigh a hopeless sigh, hands on your hips. You stare at the ground; there isn’t a realistic possibility in which you could look into his eyes right now.

“Do you want to go home?” He asks, and you respond with a nod. Harry shuts the trunk before walking over to the driver’s seat.

The second you step into the car, it falls silent between the two of you. You sit with your knees away from Harry, body towards the window. You listen to the radio music that is vaguely playing in the background.

Harry always puts on his own playlist, but he felt that wasn’t very fitting right now, so he just left the radio on. He tries to avoid giving into the heavy pit in his stomach, but it grows with every intersection and stoplight where once again nothing is said. It irks him that you are so silent and he would throw himself out the window if this is it. If he’s blown his chance.

Harry stops right in front of your apartment complex. You don’t even realize at first, and when you do, you feel your own body almost trying to keep you in the vehicle, urging your stupid mouth to open up to him, but you don’t. Harry does instead.

“I like you.” He blurts out before he even knows what he is doing. He feels his cheeks getting red as the sentence leaves his mouth. You freeze, and slowly turn to Harry, unsure what to make of his words.

“I like you, sunshine. As more than a friend, or a tutor, or whatever you want to call it. I have had a crush on you ever since that first project we did together.” He sighs, feeling like a big weight has already been lifted off his chest. “I’m not going to waste time by being vague or playing hard to get. So I’m telling you: I like you. You can do whatever you want the information, it’s up to you. I just needed you to know.”

You stare blankly at Harry. He feels himself getting nervous again. Did he forget to add something? No… right?

“S— so, that’s all. Have a good night, Y/N.” He adds on, looking away from her confrontational eyes and focusing on the empty road in front of him instead.

A scoff. A scoff leaves your mouth as you unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door. Harry’s heart drops; he messed this up. How did he ever think you liked him? He knew you were way out of his league. Why did he even try—

“No, you know what—” the car door slams shut and Harry looks to his right to see you sitting next to him again. Your face is on scary mode and he is quite intimidated by it, to say the least. “You don’t get to do this! You don’t get to give me coffee, and touch me and kiss me and make me all confused, and— this! And why are you suddenly calling me by my name?! You can’t just— do that!”

The faintest hint of a smirk appears on Harry’s face. He can’t think of anything else but how beautiful you look right now. That pouty, confusion filled angry face you have on.

“You’d rather have me call you sunshine?”

“That— That’s not what I meant— You are so annoying, you know that?!”

“Then what do you mean, sunshine?” Harry asks, tilting his head a bit. He is being a bit cocky; he likes seeing you struggle with this, but trying to communicate anyway. He’s proud of you. He feels like he knows you better than you think and he is aware that this is not easy at all for you.

“You— you just barge into my life with those caramel macchiato’s and flip everything I know upside down. And giving me that… nagging feeling. All the time!” You keep ranting, unaware of how amused Harry is because of it.

“Sunshine… are you trying to tell me that you like me back?” He wonders carefully. It is hurting his lips trying to fight them from forming into a smile.

“What?” You ask breathily, as if he’s caught on to you. Harry bites the inside of his lip and leans forward. There it is again, that nagging feeling.

His eyes trace down to your body and he carefully placed on of his hands on your stomach, then he looks back at you. He is almost as close as how he was before you two kissed, and your body immediately feels like it’s on fire again.

“That nagging feeling, do you feel it there? In your belly?” He asks you softly, and you could melt from just his words. You say nothing, do nothing. You just clench your jaw, unwilling to give into him. The reason why you are defying this is becoming vaguer and vaguer by the second, though…

“Because I do. I feel it all the time. Whenever you’re close, whenever you enter my mind. I’ve never longed for a stomach ache so bad in my entire life.” He explains to you, and your mind feels so clouded. You know exactly what he means.

“I know you’re scared, and I know you don’t trust this. But please, let me in. I wouldn’t think of letting you down. Ever.” Harry pleads, and your eyes flutter shut.

All you can smell now is his perfume ans all you can feel is him even though he’s not touching you all around. You lean forward, forehead against his. You both stay like that for a second or two, but when you open your eyes and his lips are the first thing you see…

You break.

Within seconds, your lips are back on his and you just know it was the right thing to do. There is nothing you love more than being close to him right now, and you are really relishing in the fact that that seems to have overshadowed your fears.

Your hands finds its way to his neck while one of his cups your jaw, keeping the both of you steady. There is so much passion in the kiss, and it feels so satisfying. It is why it’s almost impossible to pull away from him, but you do anyway.

“Do you want to come in?” You ask, out of breath. Harry’s mouth breaks into a wide smile as he nods.

“Yes, please.”

…

TO BE CONTINUED

#harry styles #fanfic #writing #blurb #fanfiction #harry #one direction #one shot #excerpt #fluff #confession #love #grumpy #sunshine #grumpy sunshine

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armoricaroyalty · 1 year ago

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author's note: now here are those wholesome sibling relationships we have all come to love and expect from my story!

Transcript under the cut.

Nakawe Palace // Armorican State Visit - Day 2

REPORTER | ...I'm live outside of Nakawe Palace, where the press and members of the public alike have gathered following unconfirmed reports that Crown Princess Rosalind has, for 3 years, conducted a secret relationship. REPORTER | This afternoon, Uspanian tabloid The Concordia Times broke the story of the Crown Princess's relationship with Komrebigan national—and accused murderer—Hakane Satō, also known as Mary Yokoyama. REPORTER | [offscreen] In 2013, Yokoyama was named as a person of interest in the still-unsolved disappearance of her husband, Noah Satō. She was questioned by Komorebigan police in 2013 and again in 2014, but released without charge. Blackwell Palace has yet to comment on this developing story... MARY | [offscreen] Are you sure this is a good idea? ROSALIND | Do you have a better one? MARY | No, but give me a week— ROSALIND | We don't have a week. ROSALIND | [in Komorebigo] Darling, is everything alright? You seem upset. MARY | [forcing a smile] I'm fine. [knock on door] ROSALIND | That's them, now. ROSALIND | You're late. MARY | Good to see you both. EMILY | Don't look at me! I was ready to go while he was still putting his contacts in. FREDERICK | Sorry. I was late getting back from Canarís. I ran into an old friend... ROSALIND | Well...whatever! Come in! Sit down! We need to talk... ROSALIND | So...I'm sure you've seen the news by now. FREDERICK | Heck, I've seen the reporters. They're still all outside, by the way. EMILY | Frederick... ROSALIND | Can you not be a smug know-it-all for 15 minutes? This is serious. ROSALIND | We don't know how the story got out. We're looking into potential leaks, but in the meantime, we can't allow the press to run with this. The longer it's in the headlines, the worse it'll be for the family. EMILY | I'm so sorry, Your Highness. This must be so difficult— FREDERICK | You've got friends in the press. Can't you get Vance Marshall or one of his cronies to kill this one for you? He's done it before. ROSALIND | It's too late for that. It's all over the Uspanian press and the major Armorican networks have already picked it up. Our only option now is damage control, and we'll need something big to bury this one. ROSALIND | [sighs] We need you. Both of you. EMILY | Both of us? FREDERICK | I don't think I like where this is headed... ROSALIND | [offscreen] The only thing that people love more than a royal scandal is a royal wedding. EMILY | ... FREDERICK | ... FREDERICK | Roz, are you shitting me? EMILY | Frederick— FREDERICK | You want me to propose just to bury an embarrassing story? ROSALIND | What's the big deal? You were going to do it, anyway— FREDERICK | get shit from the press every single day of my life! And you have never once lifted a finger to defend me, but I'm supposed to make major life decisions to spare you a couple weeks of bad press? ROSALIND | [offscreen] I am the Crown Princess— FREDERICK | Yeah! I know! You've never once let anyone forget it. ROSALIND | [offscreen] —I have to be beyond reproach. ROSALIND | Unlike you, I do not have the luxury of making mistakes. Everything I do has to be perfect, for the sake of the entire family! Everyone depends on me, Freddy! Do you really think the Armorican taxpayer would keep paying for your fuck-ups if I wasn't included in the bargain? FREDERICK | Oh, poor you, it must be sOoOo fucking hard being the chosen one! ROSALIND | IT'S NOT MY FAULT I WAS BORN FIRST YOU ENTITLED LITTLE— EMILY | [offscreen] [sobs] FREDERICK | ...Em?

#armorica story #chapter 3 #behind the scenes #character: mary yokoyama #character: rosalind st. fleur #character: frederick st. fleur #character: emily chandra

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slamminslamminmcgill · 2 years ago

Text

Practicar - Lalo Salamanca/FTM Reader (NSFW!)

when you bought weed from tuco, one of his guys said something rude to you in spanish. one thing he said sticks with you, so you ask lalo about it when you get home. he tells you what it means, and decides to teach you some more of the language while smoking up.

tags/warnings: intoxication (weed and poppers), homophobic/transphobic slurs, degradation/humiliation, hair-pulling, rough oral sex, vaginal sex, squirting, pussy slapping

anatomical terms: chest, cunt, pussy, dick, t-dick, chocho, pija

words: 7,979 (we smoke CRACK!!!!!!!!!!!!)

ao3 link

author's notes: in which i am a dumb stoner with a lalo shaped brain tumor <3 no soy un hablante nativo pero estoy aprendiendo. la escritura es como yo practico. ¡por favor corríjanme si encuentran algunos errores! :3

“This is ridiculous. Are you guys seriously not gonna tell me what it means? It can’t be THAT bad.”

You groaned. You were in the backseat of the car as Marco and Leonel drove you home, dead silent, as usual. All you wanted to do was buy weed, but Lalo won’t let you unless it’s from the family. He doesn’t trust any other source. Okay, that’s fair, plus it’d be kinda rude to buy from his competition, right? So, you had to buy from Tuco. Sure, not a problem. The twins picked you up and gave you a ride over. Great. You were a little annoyed that Lalo didn’t even want you driving there by yourself, but whatever. Everything’s fine. Once you got the weed from Tuco, one of his guys said something stupid about you in Spanish, and Tuco snapped and started beating the shit out of him. You caught most of it, since Lalo had been teaching you the language, but there was one phrase that mystified you. It sounded like a slang term, and Lalo hadn’t taught you many colloquialisms yet. You had asked what he said, but no one would tell you. Tuco was too busy giving him impromptu plastic surgery; none of the other guys in the room would dare speak up; and Marco and Leonel dragged you out of there once the guy’s teeth started flying through the air.

It seemed like everyone in the Salamanca family treated you like a child, like you were a helpless little thing who couldn’t possibly protect himself. Shit, even Lalo was guilty of it, too. He didn’t even trust you to make the drive alone; he asked the twins to pick you up. It was infuriating. You seethed the entire ride back to his place.

When you got there, you stormed inside, pissed off, releasing a cloud of noxious vibes into the house. Lalo was there to greet you, and he sniffed it out immediately. “Dios mío, conejito, ¿qué pasó? (My god, bunny, what happened?) You look like you’re about to rip someone’s head off! Tuco didn’t give you any trouble did h-?”

You shot him straight, interrupting him mid-sentence, not even saying hello, “What’s a chichifo travelo?” you barked at him and crossed your arms over your chest.

Lalo’s concern bled into pure confusion, and then, for some reason, cheerfulness. He burst out laughing. A deep, rich belly laugh that had him doubling over and slapping his thigh. What? What the hell? What was so funny? “Oh! Oh my god, sorry, just. Just give me a second, woo!”

You groaned. “Can you just tell me what it means?”

Lalo’s laughter fizzled out, and he managed to compose himself. He stood upright, looked back down at you. “Well, chichifo is kinda like a… gigolo? Is that how you say it in English? It’s basically a male prostitute, y’know. And then, travelo…” His eyes trailed down to your chest, a few buttons of your shirt undone, and he sighed. He patted you on the shoulder, and gave you a somber expression. “...travelo is basically ‘tranny’.”

The lightbulb turned on. “Ohhh…” you replied, the flames of your burning rage subdued now that you had an answer. You uncrossed your arms and rested your hands on your hips. “Yeah, okay, that makes sense.”

Lalo furrowed his brow and took his hand off your shoulder. “Makes sense? What happened? Nobody called you that, did they?” He gave you a look of empathy and concern that masked the fury brewing inside him.

You shrugged. “One of Tuco’s guys did, I guess. When I got there, Marco and Leonel took me inside and waited with me. While I was talking to Tuco, one of his guys said something like…” You paused to recall what he said as best as you could. “‘¿De… ¿De verdad? ¿Esta es la pareja nueva de Lalo? ¿Este chichifo travelo? (Really? This is Lalo’s new partner? This tranny hooker?)’ I didn’t hear all of it, but I figured it was some bullshit since Tuco started wailing on him and-”

“Stop.” Now, Lalo was the one to cut you off, his cold voice slicing through your dialogue like a steel blade, “Someone called you that? In front of the family?”

“Yeah,” You replied nonchalantly. “Tuco took care of it. He knocked the guy onto the floor and fucked him up pretty badly. The twins grabbed me and led me outside after that. No one would tell me what it means.”

Lalo frowned, “They probably wanted me to be the one to explain it to you, chiquito. No one should have to hear that. Is everyone else still there?”

“The twins aren’t. They took me home.” You pondered for a second. “But I think Tuco is. I doubt the other guy is still breathing though.” You nervously tried to laugh it off.

But Lalo wasn’t laughing. “Alright then,” He patted your shoulders before moving with determination to get something out of a cabinet. ”Ven conmigo. Vamos a ver Tuco y el pendejo que te ha dicho esa mierda a tí. (Come with me. We’re going to see Tuco and the asshole who said that shit to you.)” He turned around, holding a loaded pistol with a silencer on it. Why?! Why?! Why?! Who the fuck just has that locked, loaded, and ready to go, just chilling in the living room cabinet like it’s a cheap airport knickknack?! Apparently, your boyfriend did, and since you lived here too, technically you did by extension.

You jumped when you saw the gun. “¡¿Q-Qué?! (What?!)” You asked, your brain flipping through pages of an English-Spanish dictionary as fast as it could, “No… no tienes que hacer eso. De verdad. Estoy bien. (You… You don’t have to do that. Really. I’m fine.)” You gave him an insecure smile, a sheepish grin that you hoped said: For the love of God, man, let it go. It’s not that deep.

Lalo wasn’t budging. He opened the front door, and turned to you, casually waving you outside with a 9mm handgun like an extension of his hand. “Ven. Conmigo. (Come. With me.)”

Thankfully, the whims of fate saved you from yet another aggravating car ride. Two in the same day was more than enough. Lalo’s phone started ringing, right on cue. He took it out of his pocket and squinted to read the name.

“Is that Tuco?” you asked. He nodded in your direction, and touched the silencer to his own lips. Be quiet. You understood.

Lalo flipped the phone open and laughed, as if this was the most normal conversation you could have with your cousin. “¡Tuco! ¿Qué chingados pasaba hoy? ¿Uno de tus vatos le llamaba mi chico un chichifo travelo? (Tuco! What the fuck happened today? One of your guys called my boy a tranny whore?)”

He let Tuco speak for a moment before continuing. You couldn’t hear anything coherent from the outside, but it sure was loud. “Primo, primo, cálmate. Cálmate. No puedo entenderte cuando dices tan fuerte. Toma un respiro profundamente y dime que pasaba. (Cousin, cousin, calm down. Calm down. I can’t understand you when you talk so loud. Take a deep breath and tell me what happened.)”

Lalo stopped talking, and the sound on the other line was much quieter. You couldn’t hear anything besides Lalo now. “Sí, sí, yo sé que él dijo eso. ¿Había algo más? (Yeah, yeah, I know he said that. Was there anything else?)” Silence. “¿Me llamó un maricón? ¿De verdad? Ha! Te le ocupaste, ¿cierto? (He called me a faggot? Really? Ha! You took care of him, right?)” Silence again. “¿No está respirando? ¿Estás seguro? Bien, bien hecho, pero déjame terminarlo la próxima vez. (He’s not breathing? Are you sure? Good, good job, but let me finish him off next time.)” Silence once more. “Sí, por supuesto, yo diré tío. Él va a estar muy orgulloso de tí. ¡Bien! Entonces, nos hablaremos tarde, ¿cierto? Bien. ¡Chao! (Yeah, of course, I’ll tell Uncle. He’s going to be very proud of you. Alright! Well, we’ll talk later, yeah? Okay. Bye!)”

He flipped his phone shut and stood still for a moment. Then another. Then another. Until he shrugged, and went to put the gun away. You sighed in relief, letting the air permeate your lungs and your body relax once again. Once the cabinet was closed, Lalo approached you to cup your face in his hands and kiss your forehead.

“Perdóname, chiquito. (Forgive me, baby boy.) You were right. I should have listened. I just can’t bear to let anything happen to you. No one can say such horrific things to you and come away with his life. I wanted to make things right. Do you understand? ¿Me comprendes?” Lalo did that a lot. He would say something in English and repeat it in Spanish, a signal to answer him in kind.

“Sí. Te comprendo (I understand you).” You sighed, nudged him off you, and switched back to English. “It’s just… aggravating that you don’t trust me. I can handle myself just fine, y’know.”

Lalo simpered. “I do trust you, nene (baby). I just don’t trust everyone else. I need to keep my baby boy safe, yeah?” He could see you pouting, so he knew he had to change the topic. “So! How’d it go otherwise? ¿Conseguiste que tú necesitabas de Tuco? (Did you get what you needed from Tuco?)”

Having to translate made you forget what you were upset about. Your response took a moment to buffer, and you perked up when it finished loading.. “...¡Sí! Sí, yo hice. Acá. (Yes! Yes, I did. Here.)” You pulled a ziplock bag full of weed out of your pocket, and excitedly showed it to Lalo. “Mirálo. (Look at this.)”

Lalo examined the bag, first by appearance. Large nugs, dark green with flecks of orange and purple, blooming flowers, no big stems. Looked alright. He cracked open the bag and sniffed it. A dank, earthy, almost musty smell wafted through the air. It was fresh. Smelled alright. He took a nug in between his fingers and squeezed it, snapping it apart easily. Felt alright. Yep, Salamanca product. Not that he had any doubts, mind you. He was just doing quality control. A businessman, through and through.

“That’s the good stuff.” Lalo said as he put the torn nug back in the bag and zipped it shut. “Tuco did you right. How much he charge you?”

You took the bag back. “He said I was getting the ‘family discount’, so $100 for the ounce. He weighed it in front of me, don’t worry. Plus, he said he’ll give me some for free next time. I guess that’s the ‘sorry I practically killed a man in front of you’ discount.”

Lalo smiled. “That's a pretty good deal, even with the family discount. And free drugs? Now that's just a win-win.” He patted your back. “So I take it you'll be buying off him in the future?”

You couldn’t hide your excitement. “Yeah man! Shit, dude, if I wasn't already sleeping with you, I definitely would for a hookup like this!”

He chuckled and laid his hands on your hips, pulling you in closer. “You have no shame, huh?”

There was some truth to that statement. “None. And you love it.” You giggled and booped his nose.

“Maybe I do, chico,” He booped yours back, “Y’know, I should really teach you more slang. You gotta be able to fire back if someone talks to you like that, right?”

“Do I?” You teased, hugging him closer to you and putting on your best faux-innocent tone. “Can’t I just have you take care of it? You gotta keep your baby boy safe, don’t you?”

Lalo snickered, eager to play along. “Oh? What happened to being able to handle yourself? Do you need your man to take care of you?”

“Hmm…” You pretended to think about it while you rubbed his back. “Maybe I do, chico.” You made sure to punctuate that last word, knowing it’d set him off.

And it did. “Oh, you’re bad. Using my words against me? Debes estar castigado por eso, ¿estás de acuerdo? (You should be punished for that, don’t you think?)”

You giggled and nodded. The word “castigado” was escaping you right now, but you figured you’d press your luck and agree nonetheless.

Lalo clocked you, because of course he did. His bullshit detector was in perfect working order. “You don’t know what I said, do you?” You didn’t need to answer; he could see it in your face. He pried your arms off his back and pinned them to your sides. “That’s why I gotta teach you. C’mon, it’ll be fun I promise.” He let you go and pointed at your bag of weed. “Podemos fumar esa mota mientras hacemos, ¿sí? (We can smoke that weed while we do it, yeah?)”

“Mota?” You tilted your head. “Is that weed?”

“Good boy! That’s right!” He ruffled your hair and you squeaked. Sometimes, being babied and talked down to felt nice, from him, at least. “Entonces, te necesito sentarte en el sofá. Vayas. (Now, I need you to get on the couch. Go.)" He tapped your head as encouragement.

Once you translated your assignment, you walked over to the couch and plopped down. “Want me to pack us a bowl?”

“I was hoping you would.” Lalo sat down next to you and pulled the coffee table closer.

On the table, you had a grinder, rolling tray, and bong ready to go. You opened the bag and let the odor dissipate into the air. Then, you picked a couple nugs out of the bag and ground them up before dumping the weed on the tray. Once it was ground up, you went to grab the bong, but stopped. Apparently, it’d been a while since you’d changed the water. It was almost brown and had chunks floating in it. Plus, the actual bong itself was stained. “Oh, shit,” You turned to Lalo, “I should probably clean it, huh?”

Lalo grabbed your hand to stop you. “Nah, don’t worry about it. It'll be just fine until next time. I

actually like it the way it is. Just the right amount of filth to prove how much it gets used.”

You snorted. He walked right into this one. “Just like me, huh?”

He groaned, but with a smile. “Ugh, I knew you'd make that joke. But honestly, I can't disagree.” He let go of your hand and squeezed your thigh. “Just like you.”

You leaned over to kiss his cheek and went back to packing the bowl, his hand still on your thigh. “Got a lighter?” you asked once you were done.

Lalo grinned. “¿Sabes cómo preguntarme en español? (Do you know how to ask me in Spanish?)”

You weren’t sure, but you’d sure as hell try. “Tienes un… (Do you have a…) fuck… ¿Cómo se dice (How do you say) ‘lighter’?”

“Encendedor.” Lalo replied and took a fancy silver zippo out of his pocket, bougie as always. You went to grab it but he yanked it back. “Ah! Not until you ask for it correctly.”

You sighed, clearly fed up with his teasing, or maybe you just really wanted to smoke. Nevertheless, you did what he wanted. He watched the gears in your head turn. “Puedo… ¿Puedo usar tu encendedor? (Can I borrow your lighter?)”

“Bien hecho, chiquito! (Good job, baby boy!)” Lalo pulled you in for a hug and petted your hair again. “¡Tan inteligente! Claro que sí, tú puedes. (So smart! Of course, you can.)” When he was done patronizing you, he handed you the lighter.

You took the lighter in your hand and his lips in yours, but only for a second. There was weed to be smoked. Your lips then went to the mouthpiece of the bong. There was something about it, all the preparation that went into it, it was like a choreographed dance. A flick of the lighter, a singe of the flower, and a deep breath in, a really deep breath. The smoke would build; the water would bubble. You’d pull away and wait, just a moment, before you let it all out, blowing out a cloud of pure smoke, like a dragon doing a half-assed job of burning down the village and terrorizing the townspeople. You didn’t cough. How sexy of you. You glanced over at Lalo and wiggled your eyebrows, a kind of What do you think of that?, before you passed it over to him.

He laughed and said “You are too much, conejito.” before lighting up himself.

You laid back against the couch and crossed your arms behind your head. “Hm… conejito. What’s that mean?” You hummed.

Lalo blew the smoke out and coughed slightly. You giggled. Pussy. He cleared his throat to answer you. “It means bunny. Why? Do you not like it? I can call you something else.” He passed the bong to you.

“No, I like it. Was just wondering.” You answered before taking another hit, a big one too. This time you coughed when you let it out. Hubris. Maybe Lalo wasn’t a pussy. “What’d you wanna teach me anyway? Some more slurs?” You took another hit and passed it to him, the two of you establishing a good rhythm as you rehearsed your choreography. Flick, singe, pull, out, pass.

“If you want, I can. You know travelo, yeah? That’s yours.” He pointed at your chest, with the hand that was holding the lighter. “Both of us can say maricón. That’s how you say faggot.” Flick, singe, pull, out, pass.

“Oh, yeah,” You nodded. “I thought I heard the guy say that about you.” Flick, singe, pull, out, pass.

“Yeah, apparently he did. No big deal. I’ve heard it so many times now. I’m sorry you had to hear it, though.” Flick, singe, pull, out, pass.

“I’m fine, trust me. ‘S not like I haven’t heard it in English before anyway.” Flick, singe, pull, out, pass.

“Well, either language, some pendejo says that to you, you tell me, alright?” Flick, singe, pull, out, pass.

“Pendejo? What’s that, asshole?” Flick, singe, pull, out, pass.

“More or less, yeah. Literal definition is pubic hair.” Flick, singe, pull, out, pass.

“Ha! That’s funny. You just call people pubes? I like that.” Flick, singe, pull, out… Why was nothing coming out? Did you two burn through a bowl that quickly? You poked the ash into the center of the bowl and tried to light it. No dice. “Aw, boo.” You pouted and set the bong and lighter back on the table. Well, now that you weren’t smoking, you could take a moment to feel yourself getting high. You snuggled up close to Lalo, resting your head on his chest. He always smelled so fucking nice.

Lalo wrapped his arm around you and pulled you in tighter. “Relax, baby. We’ll smoke some more in a bit. Gives us more freedom to talk, eh?”

“Mmm… okay…” You hummed, though honestly, you weren’t sure you had the brain power to talk much right now. You dragged your fingers along his chest before honking one of his pecs. You giggled. “Hehehe… titty… how do you say that in Spanish?”

Lalo snorted. “Oh, wow, you’re cute when you’re high. ‘Titty’ is teta. Is that what you wanna know? You wanna know all the naughty words? Dirty boy.”

Another loopy laugh from you. “Niño sucio (Dirty boy).” You rolled onto your stomach and slid down, resting your head in his lap. You were staring right at his bulge. He was only slightly hard, but mouthwateringly so. Weed told you to touch him, so you palmed his shaft through his jeans, hoping to pump him up in more ways than one. For some godforsaken reason, weed was also showing you Spanish vocabulary flash cards. “¿Y este aquí? (And this here?)”

Lalo snickered and brushed your hair out of your face, making sure he had your undivided attention. “Verga.”

“Verga.” You echoed, licking your lips as they curled around the word. They were a bit dry from smoking. Oh well, you’d find a way to wet them. Weed was working wonders for you, a better wingman than most had been. You giggled yet again as you rubbed him. “Entonces… se puede… se puede decir… (So… you could… you could say…)” You darkened the color of your voice to a sultry hue. “‘Dame tu verga.’ ¿sí? Se puede decir ‘Qui-... Quiero tu verga, Lalito,’ ¿verdad? (“Give me your cock,” yeah? You could say “I want… I want your cock, Lalito,” right?)

Lalo chuckled. Even with your stuttering, even with your clouded mind, he loved hearing you so hot and bothered for him. Plus, he loved that you gave him the Spanish diminutive. “¿Lalito, eh? Me gusta eso. Y sí, tienes razón. Muy bien. (Lalito, eh? I like that. And yes, you’re right. Very good.)” He sighed and petted your hair, making you scooch further into his lap. “Me encanta cuando hablas español. Suenas tan lindo. (I love it when you speak Spanish. You sound so cute.)”

He was getting harder; you could feel it. You cupped your hand and stroked him through the denim, looking up at him with the most sickly sweet eyes you could give. Saying nothing, just doing. After a while, you couldn’t help but laugh, a goofy smile to match. “You’re pretty…”

Lalo laughed too, feeling a little buzzed himself. Just a little, nowhere near your level. He had quite the tolerance. “Oh, am I now? You’re quite the looker yourself.” He reached his arm out to grab your ass. “¿Sabes qué es esto? ¿Sabes qué se llama? (You know what this is? You know what it’s called?)”

You put your finger to your lips to think. Your brain was working as fast as a dialup router in Bumfuck, Wyoming during the Clinton administration. Lightspeed. Probably 4 years later when you had your answer, you seeked Lalo’s approval. “¿Culo? (Ass?)”

“Sí, es verdad. Bien hecho. ¿Cómo sabías eso? (Yes, that’s right. Good job. How did you know that?)” Lalo gave you a firm spank, the sharp sting diffused by your pants blocking the shot. “Chico travieso. No te enseñé eso. (Naughty boy. I didn’t teach you that.)”

“Hey! Did you just call me a tranny? I know that one!” You shouted at him in a mirthful tone, showing that your anger was in jest.

Lalo scoffed. “Travieso, not travelo. It means naughty. And it’s true. Eres un chiquito travieso (You are a naughty little boy).” He spanked you again, harder this time, making you yelp. “And so what if I called you a tranny? You like it when I call you names, don’t you?”

You whined and buried your face in his lap, not wanting to bear your shame to him. “Mm… Maybe…”

Lalo wheezed and tousled your hair again. You could feel his dick twitch as he did. “I knew it! I know you so well. I told you you’re a naughty boy! I bet there’s a lot of names you’d like me to call you. I can teach you some fun ones in Spanish, too. Isn’t that right, ¿putito? ¿Sabes qué eso significa? (...little whore? You know what that means?)”

You were lucky that his clothes muffled whatever pathetic noise you just made. You didn’t take your face out of his lap, not wanting to let him see you blush. He could play you like a fiddle, and you weren’t sure whether you hated it or loved it. “...Sí.” you mumbled into his leg.

Lalo patted your head. “Entonces, dímelo. (So tell me.)”

You stood corrected. He wasn’t playing you like a fiddle; that was almost too plebeian. He was playing you like a world-class soloist performing Sibelius’s Violin Concerto in D minor on their 10 million dollar Stradivarius, a master of his craft. You answered barely above a whisper, “Little bitch…”

“I’m sorry, what was that?” He tugged your hair, pulling your face out into the open, into his line of fire. “Look at me, and say it again. What does it mean? What did I call you?”

Your lip trembled as you replied. “Little bitch…”

“That’s right! Good boy!” He praised you by tugging on your hair again, just how you like it, just how to make you sing for him. “It means more than just bitch, though. Little whore, little slut, it’s very useful. It suits you.” He released you from his grip, letting your head fall back down into his lap.

Maybe it was the weed, maybe it was his words, but something pushed you. You went right back to teasing his cock through his pants, running your tongue across the scratchy fabric, open-mouth kisses on his bulge. You wanted it. You wanted it bad, but you didn’t have the words to ask. Well, in English, that is. Weed gave you the answer in Spanish. You gave him the saddest puppy dog eyes. “¿Lo puedo? (Can I?)”

Lalo gave you a proud smile, happy to see you embracing the language, but he needed more than that. “¿Puedes hacer qué, muñequito? (Can you do what, doll?)”

Weed could only do so much. You still had to figure out what the hell you were actually asking for. “Quiero… quiero usar mi boca… en tu… en tu verga. Quiero usar mi boca en tu verga. ¿Lo puedo, Lalito? (I want… I want to use my mouth… on your… on your cock. I want to use my mouth on your cock. Can I, Lalito?)”

Lalo chuckled warmly. You were adorable. “¿Quieres chupar mi verga? Si quieres, debes decirlo primero. Dime ‘Quiero chupar tu verga, Lalito,’ y dilo fuerte. Quiero oírte decirlo. (You want to suck my cock? If you want it, you have to say it first. Say “I want to suck your cock, Lalito,” and say it loud. I want to hear you say it.)”

Like he said earlier, you have no shame, so you had no problem doing exactly what he asked you, and then some. “Quiero chupar tu verga, Lalito. Dámelo. Dámelo, por favor. (I want to suck your cock, Lalito. Give it to me. Give it to me, please.)”

“My, my, aren’t you eager!” Lalo stroked your cheek. “But, just so you know, it’s dámela, in this case. Verga is feminine. Ironic isn’t it?”

“Really?” You giggled, easily distracted from what you were begging for just moments ago. “So then is ‘pussy’ masculine? I can roll with that.”

“Sometimes, yeah.” Lalo responded, “In Spain, they call it a coño, and here you can say chocho. There’s also chocha, panocha, we got a lot of words for it.”

“So what do you call mine?” You asked with a cheeky grin.

Lalo returned the teasing energy and played along, but only to let you know who was in control here. His deep voice rumbled in his chest. “Do a good job and I’ll tell you.” He tapped your cheek. “C’mon. You said you wanted it, right?”

You’d momentarily forgotten how horny you were thanks to his distraction. You scrambled to undo his gaudy belt, tugging it through his jeans and tossing it onto the floor. Clumsy fingers patted around to find his fly, and eventually found what they were looking for. You undid the button, the zipper, and ineloquently dug your hand in, snickering as you grabbed his cock and pulled it out.

“Hehehe…” Amused with the situation you found yourself in, you fluttered your tongue across the tip, back and forth, making sure to keep his eye contact as you gave him nothing more than a facsimile of pleasure. You felt like messing with him, just a little bit. Weed was always a trickster.

Lalo raised an eyebrow. “That’s all you got? Okay,” He sighed, and leaned over you towards the paraphernalia on the table. He put a few nugs in the grinder and started to twist. “If all you’re gonna do is bore me like that, I might as well have some fun of my own.” He emptied the contents of the grinder onto the tray and started to pack a bowl. You stopped moving your tongue and tilted your head up at him, silently begging like a dog eyeing up his owner’s lunch. “No. Not until I think you’ve earned it. Get to work.” He chided.

You did as you were told and began to service him properly. Your tongue moved with purpose, mapping out his most sensitive spots. His slit, so you could coax more precum out. Underneath his foreskin and around his head, you knew he was sensitive there. Down his length so you could coat him in as much spit as you’d need. You were just warming him up for now, but nevertheless, you gave it your all.

Lalo was unphased, smoking the bong without a care in the world as you debased yourself for him. Business as usual. Your partnered dance was now a solo, and one of the steps had changed: flick, singe, pull, out, repeat. He whistled as he blew the smoke out. “There we go! That’s more like it. Ya realmente pareces como un putito. Te queda bien. ¿Estás de acuerdo? (You really look like a little slut now. It suits you. Don’t you agree?)” He took another hit and blew the smoke down into your face. “¿Entonces? Respóndeme. Respóndeme en español, te chico sucio. (Well? Answer me. Answer me in Spanish, you dirty boy.)”

You withdrew your tongue to answer him, your voice breathy and weak. “Sí… me gusta… me gusta esto… (Yes… I like… I like this…)”

“¿Qué te gusta? ¿Te gusta chupar verga como el maricón patético que tú eres? (What do you like? You like sucking cock like the pathetic faggot you are?)”

You moaned a non-verbal answer and took him back into your mouth, relaxing your throat and welcoming him inside. You let him take over all five of your senses. Sight: you’d glance up at him to make sure he was satisfied. Sound: the click of the lighter, the bubbling of the bong, the exhale of the smoke, the soft sighs and grunts of a job well done. Scent: you huffed in his aftershave and musk as your tongue touched his balls. Touch: the weight on your tongue, the calloused fingers brushing your hair out of your face. Taste: that one was obvious. Suddenly, a sour scent sliced through these simultaneous sensations. It smelled like pool chlorine on a hot summer day, but you were inside. Inside and on a couch in the living room. What the hell could that possibly be? Your eyelids snapped open and you stared up at Lalo, who was holding a small bottle up to his face, bong nowhere in sight.

Lalo poked one of his nostrils shut and snorted whatever was in the bottle. The contents shot up his nose and his face crinkled up instantly. He gasped and screwed the bottle shut before putting it back in his shirt pocket. “Mierda, está bien… (Shit, that’s good…)” He rolled his shoulders back as his head lulled to the side. “Ah… Acá… (Here…)” His fingers knotted in your hair, using it as a makeshift handle for your head, pulling you up and down his cock. “Déjame ayudarte… (Let me help you…)”

In helping you, he was really helping himself. There was nothing helpful about his hold on you. He used your mouth as a hole, a mere toy for him to get himself off. His hips jerked up into you to bury himself even deeper. He pushed you all the way down, until your nose touched his stomach, and you gagged. You spat up more saliva around his cock, making him groan in pleasure. He took you off so you could breathe, after you were done coughing up spit and precum, that is. You panted heavily while Lalo reached over you again, praising you as he did, “Oh, that’s a good boy…” Out of nowhere, you felt cold glass touch your lips.

Lalo was holding the bong up to you, a reward for your efforts. “C’mon, take a hit. You’ve earned it.”

You puckered your lips around the mouthpiece, and nodded, a signal that you were ready. He lit the fuse, and thus, the dance was partnered again. When you were done with your turn, you blew the smoke out and pointed at his shirt pocket. “What's that?” you asked.

“Oh, this?” Lalo set the bong and lighter back on the table and pulled the small bottle out of his pocket. He brought it down so you could see the label. You squinted to read the fine print. What the fuck? Nail polish remover? He’s a cartel boss. He can get all the drugs he could ever want, so why on earth would he be huffing that?, you thought. He must have sensed your confusion, so he explained himself before you could ask. “Amyl nitrite. It’s an aphrodisiac. The label’s just for legal purposes. Can’t say what it’s really for without the feds getting involved, y’know? You sniff it and it gives you a quick rush. Makes things feel pretty intense for the next minute or so. You wanna try it?”

Your eyes went from the label to Lalo, and then back to the label. You weren’t sure about this, but if Lalo did it, it was probably safe. You shrugged and went to grab it, but Lalo pulled it back.

“Hey, hey! Easy there! I’ll tell you when.” He put the bottle back in his pocket and ruffled your hair once more. “It’s a short burst so we gotta make it count, alright? Now,” He yanked your hair again, pulling your head up from his lap and sitting you up. “Let’s make it count.”

He caught you in a kiss faster than you could process. He was hungry, tongue invading your mouth, biting your lip, teeth clashing. You were too stoned to react in turn. All you could do is let him take what he wanted, and what he wanted was you. All of you. He broke the kiss to pull your shirt off and toss it on the floor. His large hands palmed your chest as he growled in your ear.

“Tan hermoso. No tienes idea de todos las cosas malas que yo quiero hacer a tí. (So gorgeous. You have no idea of all the bad things I want to do to you.)” Lalo pinched your nipples and tugged them out, making you howl in bittersweet pleasure. “Me vuelves pinche loco. (You drive me fucking crazy.)” He let go of your nipples and reached for the bong again, your body swaying left and right without his hands to support you. “Ándale, puto, hazlo otra vez. Dale una otra fumada. Quiero volverte agradable y tonto para mí. (Come on, slut, do it again. Take another hit. I want you to get nice and silly for me.)”

Dazed and confused, you weren’t entirely sure what he just asked you, but context clues were a big help. You barely had the brainpower to keep yourself upright, let alone go against him. Lips on the mouthpiece, flame on the flower, smoke in the lungs, and then smoke in the air.

“Buen chico. ¿Cómo te sientes? (Good boy. How do you feel?)” He asked. You answered with a ditzy smile and a nod. “Bien, bien. ¿Quieres continuar? (Good, good. You want to keep going?)” Another nod. Lalo chuckled and gave you a gentle kiss. “Yo sé que querrías. Chico sucio. (I knew that you would. Dirty boy.) He pushed you onto your back, and you melted into the couch cushions. You hummed contentedly, mesmerized by the plush fabric. You raised an arm to caress the back of the couch. It was just so soft. Did it always feel this nice? Wait… was the room colder now? Two firm hands grabbed your legs and pulled them apart, which posed another question…

Where were your pants?

Lalo must have slipped them off while you were conducting field research on furniture upholstery. He smirked up at you between your legs, his mouth hovering over your pussy. “Entonces, quisiste saber que yo llame este? (So, you wanted to know what I call this?)”

“Ah… y-yes, Lalo…” You whined, not even bothering to translate anymore.

That wasn’t gonna fly. Lalo frowned, and gave your cunt a harsh spank. You yelped and your hips thrust upwards. It was a pleasant sting, sure, but why? You couldn’t figure out what you had done wrong. “Wha…?! What’d I do- oh!” Another slap stopped you short.

The gentle tone you heard was a stark contrast to the searing pain you felt fizzle away. “En español, querido. Tienes que practicar conmigo. Eso es porque estamos haciendo esto. (In Spanish, sweetheart. You have to practice with me. That’s why we’re doing this.)” He gave you a second to process that. With how spaced out you were, he could’ve given you an hour and it may not have been enough. “Ya, me quieres decirte que yo llame este aquí? (Now, you want me to tell you what I call this here?)” He traced a finger up and down your slit. You were already soaked, because of course you were.

You whimpered and answered with a mediocre translation of your thoughts. “S-Sí… ¿Qué… ¿Qué es? (Y-Yes… What… What is it?)”

Lalo’s eyes held such reverence for you. You were just too cute for your own good. “Hm… Vamos a ver… (Let’s see…)” He pondered, “Eres un caso especial. Entonces, creo que yo llamaría este… (You’re a special case. So, I think I would call this…)”

His thumb flicked over your t-dick and your lower half jolted in response. “Una pija. Sí, tiene sentido para tí. Y este… (A dick. Yeah, that makes sense for you. And this…)”

He slid two fingers inside you and pressed them up into your g-spot, and pressed his thumb on your dick simultaneously. The sound that came out of you was nothing short of desperate. He laughed. “Creo que ‘chocho’ te quede. (I think ‘cunt’ suits you.)”

He twirled and rubbed his fingers inside and against you as he kept talking about your body. “Si eres algo especial, de verdad. Me encanta tu chocho, ¿sabes eso? Como apretado se siente, como mojado se vuelve cuando lo toco. Me encanta todo. No puedo esperar que llene tí. (You really are something special. I love your cunt, do you know that? How tight it feels, how wet it gets when I touch it. I love it all. I can’t wait to fill you up.)”

Your head was empty. The only thought occupying it was the fact that your hole wasn’t empty. Lalo knew just how to work you; he knew exactly what to do to make you beg, and you did instinctively. “Lalo… Lalo… Lalo, please… please fuck me… Ah!”

He had pulled his hand away from you and brought it down hard against your sensitive skin. “Te dije no inglés. (I told you no English.)” He got up onto his knees and grabbed your hips, lining himself up with your entrance. “¿Sabes que decir ‘fuck’ en español? (Do you know how to say fuck in Spanish?)”

You shook your head.

Lalo leaned down to whisper in your ear, “Follar,” and then pushed inside of you.

You cried out and wrapped your limbs around him, clinging onto him as if you were scared to let him go. Your hole did the same, pulsating around his fat cock.

Lalo sighed and caressed your cheek. “Oh, te siento tan bien. (You feel so good.) I gotta get you high more often!” He laughed. Wait, what? That was English! He saw the indignation in your face, and quickly counteracted it. “What? I can speak English, if I want. You can’t. Tú tienes que aprender español. Yo no debo. (You have to learn Spanish. I do not.) Now…” He fished that bottle out of his pocket, unscrewed the cap, and pressed one of his nostrils shut. “Close one nostril like this, put the bottle up to the open one, and sniff as hard as you can. You may feel some of the liquid shoot up, but that’s okay. It’s gonna feel great, I promise. Let me show you.” He snorted the popper himself and groaned before handing it to you, “Okay… okay… now you. Give it back when you’re done.”

Your hands fumbled the bottle momentarily, but you got it into position. One nostril shut, the other open, and sniff. Easy enough. You followed the steps: press, place, huff. A burst of liquid flooded your sinuses. You winced and handed the bottle back to Lalo, who screwed it shut and put it back in his pocket. He groaned and started to pound into you.

You’d never imagined that huffing “nail polish remover” would be so pleasurable, so psychedelic. It felt like your head was a balloon, gradually inflating but never popping. You heard your heartbeat in your ears. You could feel the couch breathing underneath you. Your cunt was on fire, and Lalo was pumping gasoline inside it, making you burn that much hotter.

Most of the sounds you made were incoherent gibberish, but there was one word in particular that you both heard loud and clear, its syllables syncing to its namesake’s hips. “La-lo! La-lo! La-lo!” Some more words crossed your mind and infiltrated the atmosphere. You tried like hell to make sure none of them were English. “Lalo! Lalo! ¡Más! ¡Da… ¡Dame más! F-Fo-oh! ¡F-Fóllame, Lalito! ¡Fóllame! (More! Give… Gimme more! F-Fuck me, Lalito! Fuck me!)” So far, so good.

Lalo groaned as he fucked you into the couch. “Ah, así es mi putito lindo. ¿Te gusta? No te preocupes, no debes decirme. Yo sé que te gusta. Justo relájate y disfrútalo. (Ah, there’s my cute little slut. You like that? Don’t worry, you don’t have to tell me. I know you like it. Just relax and enjoy it.)” He pinched your dick and stroked it in time with his thrusts. “Sabes, me alegra que seas un travelo. Me encanta que naciste con un chocho. Sientes mucho mejor que otros hombres. Es como que tú has hecho para estar follado. (You know, I’m so happy that you’re a tranny. I love that you were born with a cunt. You feel so much better than other men. It’s like you were made to get fucked.)”

You had no idea what the fuck he was talking about, but it definitely sounded nice. Then again, anything would sound nice in that rich, sexy tone of his. For all you knew, he could be reciting his grocery list. This bitch could make the produce aisle sound like a hedonistic paradise. Whatever. Logistics didn’t matter. What did matter was how close your orgasm was. You’d say you were losing control, but that implied you had some control of the situation to begin with.

All you could do was moan and drag your nails down his back. Rather than worry about what words you didn’t know, you focused on the ones you did, of which there were very few. “Lalo! Lalo! Lalo! Oh! Oh my… Ah! I mean…! ¡D-Dios mío! ¡Dios mío!” Nice recovery. That got a hearty laugh from him.

Okay, good. You could do this. You could figure this out. What was “to come” again? Right, venir, okay. Now what? You couldn’t just say venir. You gotta preface that with something. You were drawing a blank, and it made you panic. You were running out of time, and you knew better than to finish without permission. Weed was not helping anymore, and the poppers were long gone from your system, not that they would’ve contributed much either. Fuck it. You tried. “¡Venir! ¡Venir! (Come! Come!)”

Lalo thought that was the cutest thing he’d ever seen. It was adorable watching you so dumb and cockdrunk that you could barely speak. He didn’t let up, but he lent you a helping hand, or rather, he flicked on the lightbulb in your brain. “¿Te vas a venir? ¿Estás cerca? (You’re gonna cum? Are you close?)”

And it all became so clear. “¡Sí! ¡Sí, eso! ¡Voy a venir, Lalito! ¡Lalito! ¿Lo… ¿Lo puedo? (Yes! Yes, that! I’m gonna cum, Lalito! Lalito! Can… Can I?)”

Lalo smiled, pressed a kiss to your forehead, and jerked you even harder than you thought possible. “Hazlo. Hazlo y dime gracias después. (Do it. Do it and say thank you after.)”

Whatever the hell después meant was not a concern right now. You understood the rest of the sentence. “¡Gracias! ¡Gracia-ah! ¡Gracias, Lalito! Lalitooo~!” You pulled him against you and into a kiss. You moaned into his mouth as you came, flooding the space between you two and staining the couch at least a little bit.

Lalo broke the kiss and took his hand off your dick so he could stroke your hair. He wasn’t far behind. “Bien… Bien hecho. Buen chico. Oh, hiciste tan bueno. Estoy muy orgulloso de tí…” He grabbed hold of your waist, pulling you back into him and digging as deep as he could go. He growled hungrily. “Voy a venir también. ¿A dónde lo quieres? (I’m gonna cum too. Where do you want it?)”

Your orgasm had delivered yet another high that fried your brain and left you dumb. Translating was a fucking ordeal, even moreso than before. You were staring up at him with your eyes red and glazed over, and your tongue hanging out of your mouth and drooling. Where… it… you want? Where do you want it? In… Inside, right? Shit, how do you say inside again? At least this time you could think of some other words instead. “En… ¡En mi chocho! ¡En mi chocho! (In… In my cunt! In my cunt!)”

“¿Lo quieres dentro? (You want it inside?)”

“¡Sí! ¡Dentro! ¡Hazlo dentro! (Yes! Inside! Do it inside!)”

Lalo laughed, warm and sweet, and smooched you on the lips. “Don’t gotta tell me twice!” Before you could gripe about him teasing you with English again, he slammed his hips into you hard, grunting and hissing as he filled you up. And you felt full. You could feel it seeping out of you before he even pulled out. If you had more than four brain cells left, you’d worry about how you were going to clean the cushions later. But you didn’t, so you didn’t.

You both panted like you’d just run a marathon, and you were sweating like sinners in church. Although you were alike in condition, your post-nut reactions were much different. You were staring up at the ceiling, brainless and boneless, blending into the bodily fluids left onto the couch. Lalo grabbed the bong and lit the bowl again, tapping you on the cheek when he blew the smoke out. “You want some? We probably got one good hit left in there. You can speak English again, by the way.”

Of course, he was giving you permission, not stating a fact. You were too fucked up (quite literally) to speak at all right now, but not too fucked to forget the dance. Flick, singe, pull, out, pass.

“Alright, nice! And good job!” Lalo took the bong from you and placed it back on the table. “You’re getting better with Spanish. I think we gotta practice more often though, right?”

You nodded. It was all you could do.

Lalo grinned. He was so, so proud. “Yeah, alright. We’ll do this again sometime. But, I got one more thing left to teach you.” He pressed his forehead to yours, and stared right into your eyes.

“Te amo. (I love you.)”

There was no need to translate. You knew it; you said it back; and you meant it.

#bcs #better call saul #bcs x reader #better call saul x reader #better call saul smut #better call saul imagine #bcs smut #bcs imagine #lalo salamanca #lalo salamanca smut #lalo salamanca imagine #lalo salamanca x reader #intox tw #intox kink #lalo salamanca x ftm reader #ftm intox #intox ftm #ftm reader

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8bitsupervillain · 4 months ago

Text

Higurashi When They Cry Hou Ch. 5 Meakashi pt. 5

The voice acting: "pachi pachi pachi pachi pachi." Anyway, hell yeah baseball. (he said in the tone of voice that implies immeasurable suffering) It turns out our lad Satoshi isn't the best at sports, and suffers from a type of performance anxiety and can't just completely dominate the field.

I want you to just sort of tuck that "you need to let your demon out" line into the back of your mind. We'll get back to it, in a few.

Personal question there doc, and not one I think you should be asking a minor.

"Goodbye doctor Freeman! Be adequate!" -Half-Life 2: Episode 2

Oh that rascal.

It is somewhat disconcerting the amount of anime tropes this series invokes only to pull the rug out from under you and be like "see, it's all mental disorders!" Tatarigoroshi tried to pass off the unreliable Satoshi idea as a joke, but here it's like no, it's mental disorders. Also, this is another idea I want you to just keep vaguely aware of for the future.

This line got me thinking, back in Watanagashi when "Mion" randomly decides to rant at Keiichi that Satoko is a cursed child, that was probably Shion disguised as Mion. Nothing, at any point in the preceding events of the chapter or the first chapter led to the idea that Mion had any belief in the notion of curses. Hell in Onikakushi she outright says to Keiichi that she doesn't believe in Oyashiro. Shion, meanwhile, has her belief in the curse, and there was that interaction in Tatarigoroshi when she interrogates Keiichi about the idea that Satoshi transferred away. Which makes me wonder, at what point did Shion knock out Mion to more or less take over her day to day life? There was the part where Ooishi mentions that Shion disappeared that day he saw Keiichi and her at the library together. Was that the time? Or was it earlier in the day? I want to remind you that during that part of Watanagashi Keiichi gets interrogated three times about his actions during Watanagashi, and who he was with. But prior to Mion asking him about it she mentions that she's leaving school early that day due to a hangover. Then, when he sees Shion she mentions she also has a bit of a hangover due to a family drinking party. This is all circumstantial, because at the time I doubt that plot idea of Shion having to live a secret hidden life from the rest of the Sonozaki family had occurred to Ryukishi. But what if, that night Shion took and imprisoned Mion in the torture shack and just left her there for the rest of the chapter until the end? And the Shion and Mion we keep seeing throughout the chapter is in fact just Shion, since she can dupe people into thinking she's her sister. It would go to further explain just why Satoko had to die shortly after dealing with Rika. There's the surface level reasoning of she's aware Rika went to the main Sonozaki house, but if this is Shion she can do away with the girl she feels drove Satoshi away.

Also, this is again circumstantial evidence, but I feel the line about letting the demon out proves that the Mion that confessed to the various crimes towards the end of Watanagashi was Shion. Sure, you could argue that Mion talking about releasing the inner demon might make sense since she in theory has that demon tattoo on her back. But she never really expresses any belief in the paranormal or spirituality. Basically what I'm saying is, I'm all-in on the idea that Shion put Mion out of action for the entire second half of chapter two: Watanagashi.

For no reason, here's Remake and Original Irie.

Shion is weirdly possessive of this guy she's only known for a month. I know romance can make you do some extremely questionable things, but in universe, they just had a conversation about how forcing a child to grow up too fast can cause mental issues. And here Shion wants to force Satoko grow up, and just endure the abuse. If anything, you'd think Shion would be more sympathetic to Satoko's situation because she's the unwanted twin of a crime syndicate. She probably wasn't treated especially well by the rest of the family. I know it's probably meant to be read that she's being harsh because she's trying to do the right thing for Satoshi, but that doesn't really hold up to scrutiny at all. She is wanting to lay all of the abuse at the feet of the victim of it, and wants to tell her to suck it up and just take the lumps. In addition to being an extremely callous way of looking at things, it also would not work at all.

I wonder if this little tirade of Shion's made Irie think about the Sonozaki family at all. He's interacted with them in the past, so it feels reasonable to assume he'd be aware that Mion has a twin sister (he interacted with baby Mion in Himatsubushi, I'll remind you). So I wonder if he listened to Shion go on about how when you really think about it all this is Satoko's fault, and go "hey wait, this doesn't seem like Mion at all. Wait a second! Her twin sister?" Cause I imagine it's going to come up that he's aware that Shion's Shion.

She's gonna offer to adopt Satoko! Take her to a nice farm upstate.

Linkin Park.mp3

#higurashi #higurashi when they cry #higurashi no naku koro ni #higurashi playthrough

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paalove · 1 year ago

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so you & i have discussed what we think happened between raymew in that video boston has, which left boston & top both convinced that they'd had sex while ray & mew both insist that they didn't. i would love a post-canon incident where ray & boston, in the middle of a hangout with sand & nick, finally hash out the mystery of why they are on completely different pages about this. & then i want ray to repeat what he did with mew only with boston this time, in a doomed attempt to prove in the face of overwhelming opposition that it totally didn't count as sex, you guys, mew said so.

indeed we have! now, you sent this pre-finale, so you absolutely weren't expecting this bostonray fic to mainly be a tonnick fixit, but Such Is The Way Of Things xoxo

on ao3 here

...

Nick takes a deep breath before the door opens.

Holds it.

Releases, just as Boston turns, hair a little longer than it used to be but clearly heavily styled, makes eye contact, and the expression on Boston’s face turns from friendly and welcoming to something more complicated.

“Nick,” he says, and nothing else.

Smiling like he doesn’t notice, or really like he does, Nick says, “Hey, Ton.”

Boston swallows and looks him up and down – wonders at him, really, and Nick can feel it working the way it used to, making him all warm and sparkling and giddy, but it doesn’t sweep him away like before.

Makes him smile, though.

Especially when Boston stands in his own doorway, letting his arms dangle uselessly by his side, just staring at Nick.

“Won’t you let me in?” Nick asks.

Boston smiles at that, and it’s wide and growing and happy as he steps back.

This isn’t anywhere near as big as Boston’s place back home, of course, that’s a family home and this is a stylish apartment – or, Nick’s pretty sure, a condo – but it’s just as clearly expensive. The furniture is sleek and black and matching.

He peers at a tiny corner table, black and shiny enough to see his face in, and says, “Oh, this is cool!”

When he stands back up, Boston is staring at him.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” he says.

Nick shrugs and admits, “I got your address from Ray.”

He’d visited Boston over the summer, and it had just taken Nick mentioning – completely truthfully – that they’d been texting and sometimes Nick saw cool art he would like to send Boston, before Ray had eagerly given him the building and apartment number.

“Ai’Ray,” Boston mutters to himself, shooting a glare at the kitchen area, visible from here.

It makes Nick smile.

When they started texting again, Nick went slow. He’d text Boston and then set the entire app to being unable to notify him, so he wouldn’t be able to wait on tenterhooks for Boston’s reply; he’d deliberately be the parts of himself that he was always pretty sure Boston didn’t find cute or interesting, too.

Nick’s pretty sure, now, he knows how to not get swept away in Boston – but Boston smiles at him all teeth and says, “I’ll get you something,” and disappears to a cupboard and Nick isn’t sure.

He returns with a can of pepsi and says, “Sorry, man, I don’t have anything else – Ray didn’t tell me he was sending you.”

“Well, he didn’t send-“

They both turn to the noise at the door – the same electric beeping of the doorbell earlier.

Boston frowns.

Nick closes his eyes and thinks it’s karma for Sand’s birthday, because he didn’t tell Ray he was coming but Boston was expecting someone, and he doesn’t have anything alcoholic in his fancy, expensive condo, three days before New Years.

But Boston doesn’t have the same realisation, saying, “Huh, I wonder who that is.”

He smiles at him and picks up his can; opening it, he decides a week with friends isn’t too much worse than a sexy-romantic surprise visit.

With his ex.

Whatever, they’ve been texting, and Nick might have a boyfriend but this wouldn’t be happening if it was cheating, and…

He’s sinking in his seat a little when the confused, “Nick?” greets him from behind.

“Hi, guys,” he greets them both dimly.

Yeah, of course Sand and Ray are here.

They have a group chat with Boston, he knows, and it’s not used as often as the one they have with him but it’s in regular use and also they’re for sure trying to get out of the blast zone for April and Cheum’s current situation at the hostel – they’re the ones who tried to do the throuple thing, they’re the ones who can handle that awful party. Ray and Sand have had one turn of it.

Nick kind of has too.

Ray’s grinning, and Sand’s eyebrows have migrated to the top of his skull, as they both look at him, and Boston, and him, and Boston, and Nick rolls his eyes and says, “Surprise.”

This is when Boston seems to realise that Ray didn’t send him; he rears back, looks at Nick with new eyes again, and opens his mouth.

Great.

No way are they leaving without answers.

…

Sand loves it when Ray is annoying.

Right now, he’s interrogating Nick about his presence over the sound of some music playing from Boston’s speakers, echoing through the un-carpeted, shiny condo. Sand is watching, of course, and Boston obviously is as well.

Nick is still in the definitely-for-a-date slightly fancy clothes he was wearing when Sand arrived, but the rest of them are dressed casually – Boston for lounging and Ray and Sand for travelling. Ray has changed one part of his outfit, though, from the thick pants he insisted on for walking through the New York winter into a pair of shorts that come to about a third down his thigh.

The left leg of them is riding enough to expose the lyric tattoo Sand had watched him get.

It’s where his gaze likes to rest.

Ray nudges, and cackles, and gets in Nick’s space, and Sand watches the furrow in Nick’s brow deepen and deepen, until-

“Man, I don’t know what you’re talking about here. You think exes can’t be friends? Weird and homoerotic friends who like to watch their boyfriends make out until they bleed?”

Boston snorts and Sand laughs as Ray pouts.

“He’s not really my ex,” Ray insists, the way he likes to when people mention it or when Sand talks about the time they were fucking behind Mew’s back, because Mew and Ray have decided between themselves that that wasn’t cheating, actually, and they do expect everyone else to agree.

And Sand contributes with a lazy, “Hey, only Top ever ended up bleeding.”

It makes Nick laugh and nod, and he seems less annoyed as he looks at Ray, more… confused.

“Actually,” he says, “There’s something I always wondered about, with all that.”

Ray blinks at him inquisitively, and Sand doesn’t like how wide and airy Boston’s apartment is – he can’t just reach out and squeeze Ray to him from all the way over here.

Nick continues, “You and Mew, I mean, but not that time.”

“Us being friends?”

“The time you kissed,” he says.

Ray shifts uneasily and Boston sits up slowly, like he’s seen something interesting and wants to get a good angle on it; it makes Sand shift too, turning so he’s facing the corner Nick and Ray are huddled together on, facing the same way as Boston about half a yard away.

Boston says, “Back before you knew us?”

“Yeah,” Nick agrees, probably as oblivious to Ray’s discomfort as Ray was to his – not at all oblivious, in other words, just willing to ignore it – as he presses, “The time that you recorded.”

Recording is a topic that makes them all glance at each other uneasily, and normally Nick is the most sensitive to it, but he’s been growing in himself and his confidence all this while, Sand has seen, and he sits up straight as he mentions it.

He looks Ray directly in the eyes, and Sand can only see Ray’s reaction from behind but he seems to almost be shying away, as much as he ever does, as Nick stares at him.

“Why did Boston and Top both think you guys fucked?”

Sand blinks, surprised – they have an answer to that, don’t they?

Ray seems confused too, looking over at Boston and saying, “Well, Top thought that because Boston told him. But Boston didn’t really believe it, he saw everything.”

“You guys absolutely fucked,” Boston tells him. “Top knew it because I showed him the video of you guys fucking – my bad.”

Now Ray is shaking his head and insisting, “We made out!”

Sand can’t believe this is happening – he looks over to Nick and sees Nick looking at him, a smile on his face that looks like amusement and something simpler, the kind of joy he gets glimpses of, sometimes, when Nick is texting his guys.

Boston being one of them.

Apparently.

The squabble is friendly, but it’s not getting anywhere, so Sand raises his voice enough to be overheard over them as he says, “Hey! Hey, guys, come on, chill. Why don’t you tell me exactly what happened, huh?”

That part’s for Ray alone, and his voice drops into the warm amusement he reserves for Ray.

Raising his chin at Boston like he’s declaring victory, Ray says, “Okay. I will.”

Boston shakes his head and rolls his eyes, friendly and annoyed in equal measure, but he looks at Sand and nods.

Sand sits back.

“You confessed to Mew, then you kissed him, and he kissed back a little before he stopped it and told you he didn’t want to. That’s how you explained it to me,” he prompts Ray.

Ray nods eagerly and Boston smirks to himself.

Then Ray says, “That’s how it happened. But- we didn’t stay stopped.”

Not what Sand expected.

…

Sand looks bowled over and Nick feels kind of guilty for bringing it up, but…

Well, Ray was being annoying, and also it’s not like Sand is jealous over Mew anymore – you kind of can’t be jealous of a guy whose boyfriend you did a multi-day sexcation with even if you are monogamous by nature. Nick’s pretty sure that’s a rule.

And Boston is still looking certain he’s right, so Nick says, “How didn’t you stay stopped, huh?”

Ray mumbles something.

“Huh?”

“I tripped on him when I got up a bit after,” he repeats more loudly.

Nick coughs his laughter at that, and he can see Boston snorting at the same moment – the synchronicity makes him feel warm, and a thrill goes through him when his eyes meet Boston’s.

He ducks his head away, still smiling, and says, “Uh huh.”

Even Sand looks amused and disbelieving.

“I know that move,” he tells Ray.

Ray flicks a middle finger and makes a face at his boyfriend but shamelessly agrees, “Yeah, it was on purpose. He kissed back and he kept making eyes like he was curious – I wanted to see how curious. So I tripped into his lap and made eyes until he kissed me again, Sand.”

It’s so funny how easily those two make each other jealous.

“And then you fucked,” Boston says conversationally.

Ray makes another face and tells him, “We didn’t,” looking around at himself and Sand for support as he repeats, “We didn’t. We made out for- I don’t know, a while,” looking all red. “And yeah, we did some heavy petting, but it was all over the clothes and-“

He looks at Boston, and Boston looks back at him, and Ray rolls his eyes.

“And I came in my pants, okay? That’s all. We didn’t fuck, me and Mew talked about it – we just made out and I got ahead of myself, it wasn’t sex.”

Boston has a grin on his face but he shakes his head and says, “It wasn’t just heavy petting, I saw – man, what moves count as that to you, huh?”

“Those moves,” Ray insists.

Humming something surprised, Sand says, “Why don’t you show us? You two have your opinions, but we,” and he points to Nick and to himself in an oval motion, “Don’t have ours, yet.”

“You want me to trip on your lap,” Ray immediately flirts back.

But Nick points out, “You guys will definitely make it sex, come on. And you won’t remember you’re supposed to be demonstrating anything. Nah, it should be the ones who were there who demonstrate.”

“Ray and Ton?”

“Ray and Ton.”

Boston looks curious, challenging.

Belligerent, Ray says, “Fine. I’ll do with Ton what I did with Mew.”

…

He hadn’t thought he’d ever be a fan of watching Ray make out with someone else, especially not to prove a point, but Sand feels kind of okay with this.

It’s only him and Ray, Nick and Boston here – they’re all people he trusts, Ray with his heart and the other two with the higher honour of Ray himself. This isn’t threatening.

No, Sand’s current problem, as Boston spreads his legs only a little, sitting with exaggeratedly-proper posture in an impression of Mew, is that-

Ugh.

Sand loves making Ray cum in his pants, is the problem.

He gets too desperate to take them off, or too intent on watching something Sand’s doing for him, or sometimes Sand just won’t let him take them off because he likes to grope him through the fabric sometimes, and Ray gets panting and mewling and squirming and, just.

Mew won’t have appreciated it.

Clearly didn’t.

But he got to do that to Ray, see it, and Sand is never jealous of Mew anymore but he hates the idea of someone getting that sweet and wanting Ray and not knowing what to do with him.

Ray doesn’t trip onto Boston’s lap, just takes a seat there as Boston bats his eyelashes and says, “But Ray, I’m saving myself for a hotel heir-“

“Man, shut up,” Ray cackles, as Boston puts his hands on Ray’s hips to steady him.

The shorts are riding high, still, showing the lyric tattoo.

And Boston says, “You weren’t sitting like this.”

“We were at first,” Ray tells him.

Boston squints, like he’s struggling to remember, and says, “Oh! Yeah, it was like,” and he makes what has to be his surprised-Mew face and stares dramatically at Ray before leaning in, over him, and kissing him.

Ray is kissing back slowly, and it’s…

Huh.

Sand is finding it hot instead of wanting to kill Boston. Maybe the pool thing was an outlier.

He watches as Ray, who had been tilted back slightly as if he’d tripped elegantly onto Boston, lifts himself up using Boston’s shoulders for leverage, raises himself until he’s no longer sitting on Boston’s lap but kneeling over it, and Boston licks into his mouth and brings both hands up and around Ray’s neck, not quite squeezing but Sand still frowns, because-

“Did Mew do that?” Nick interrupts.

The two break apart and look over, Ray annoyed-and-dazed and Boston inquisitive.

Sand already knows what Nick means, and he nods as Nick clarifies, “The hands around his neck – that’s a Ton thing, not a Mew thing.”

“Shit,” Boston says. “Sorry, man, it was just one hand, right?”

Ray nods, “Yeah, one cupping the back of my neck, the other one- hey!”

The last part is a yelp as Boston gropes his ass.

And then they go back to kissing, Ray squeezing at Boston’s chest but, Sand will admit, nothing that would be out of place just doing heavy petting.

Ray moves again, then, seeming like he’s winding around Boston as he shuffles his legs over so one is between Boston’s and the other stays where it was, just on the outside – he’s straddling Boston’s leg, and Boston pulls him up it, closer, with the hand that Sand can see most clearly, in its position on Ray’s ass.

And that’s when Sand sees what Boston meant, because Ray isn’t just straddling Boston’s leg but grinding on it, hips working and hands grasping at Boston.

He feels his mouth go dry.

…

Sand is obviously about to die.

Too much blood in his dick, probably, and Nick understands very deeply.

They need to keep a scientific mindset, though.

Ray is grinding on Boston’s thigh and Boston is kissing him and squeezing his ass in a way Nick remembers with his body when he sees it. The whining is reasonable and respectable, really.

Of course, it’s also standard for Ray – Nick’s still Sand’s roommate, he hears a lot of shit.

He’s listening to the whining from the back of Ray’s throat and thinking he probably has enough to answer his question, but on the other hand…

“Hey, Ton,” he calls over, “He came last time, right?”

Obviously they all know the answer, because Ray said, but he directs it to Boston for a reason.

Sure enough, Boston gets it first, grinning over at Nick all knowing when he languidly replies, “Yeah. But Mew didn’t touch him.”

Nick knew Sand was his brother-in-arms, and Sand is smirking too, now.

Yeah, he’s trying for deadpan, but really fucking badly. He raises his eyebrows at Ray all challenging, because Ray has twisted around to look at Sand, then glance at Nick.

Ray’s eyes widen in surprise.

Then intrigue.

And then he looks around once more, looking carefully at each of their faces like he’s checking in, and then Ray shrugs and says, “Okay.”

When he kisses Boston, he doesn’t look like he’s trying to remember his past script anymore.

Boston definitely isn’t pretending to be Mew.

They’re moving a little more, and Boston’s hands have migrated up to Ray’s neck like they always do- well, not always Ray’s neck, of course. Ray’s grinding, legs squirming, it’s all entirely visible because of the shorts which Nick is assuming were Sand’s choice, considering everything about Sand and Ray.

His legs are deceptively well-defined, actually, and Nick would.

Boston is panting, kind of, and so is Ray, but it’s Boston whose chest Nick wants to watch heave – when the shirt is off it. He’s the one controlling the pace of the kissing and not doing a damn thing about the pace of the grinding, pretty much being pointed in how he ignores Ray’s increasing want.

It looks almost casual the way he kisses Ray, pulls back, kisses again and leaves his face dazed.

Nick prefers it when Boston loses that control.

There’s time until New Year.

Ray is nowhere near being in control, his panting faster and his grinding not rhythmic. He twists again, when Boston releases him from the kiss, to look at Sand.

Those are the pleading eyes that Nick has seen Sand give stupid amounts of anything to.

Today, Sand gives Ray a sincere-sounding, “Su su!” and a thumbs up.

Nick’s mouth drops open in shock and laughter; Ray actually whines out loud in more of a complaint way than a sexy way.

“You’ve done it before, Ray,” says Boston, calling Ray’s attention back to him and Nick’s with it, “Losing your touch?”

He also squeezes absently at Ray’s bare thigh; Nick is watching his hands.

Ray tilts his head at Boston and gets a competitive look in his eyes and says, “I don’t think so.”

The cool head there instantly seems to depart him when Boston kisses him again and Ray’s hips start tiny little nothing-humps against the muscular thighs that Nick wants around his neck.

Even Boston is getting visibly affected now, gaze getting more intent on Ray’s face like he does when his partn- the guy in his bed is getting close.

He licks his lips, just enough to wet them, Nick only spots it because he’s staring at Boston’s face as it happens and Nick wants Ray off Boston and his own hands on him, on that face and body now.

Ray twists out of the kiss to look at Sand again, and when Nick looks up-

Yeah, there are tears of frustration in his eyes now.

And yeah, Sand looks so horny he’s like, forgotten how to count, he looks stupid with the want in his eyes, but the rest of his face is impressively cool as he tilts his head and purses his lips as if judging Ray, finding him wanting.

Nick shoots Sand an impressed double-thumbs-up, but Sand doesn’t see.

Probably something to do with Ray’s louder whining, more desperate writhing, as Boston moves so both hands are on Ray’s thighs – either to help him along or hold him back, Nick can’t tell.

As Ray obviously cums, he whines, “Motherfucker,” and that could really be for anyone.

He falls forwards, or tries to, but Boston pushes at him with annoyed hands.

Laughing, he says, “Get up, Ray, I’m not Sand – you actually have to move yourself.”

Sand shoots Nick a glare.

That’s fair, it definitely could be Nick’s fault Boston knows that, but then Boston has eyes and also Ray’s phone number, so.

“Fuck off, Ton,” Ray says, but he’s smiling as he manages to stand.

Obviously he immediately picks his way over to Sand and dumps himself against his side, where Sand clasps him with one arm and a heated look.

It’s time for them to go and fuck, so Nick slides a sideways glance at Boston to see if maybe-

“Well?” Boston asks.

“Huh?”

He rolls his eyes at Nick’s question, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth, and says, “Was I right, or were Ray and Mew right?”

“Oh yeah, that was fucking,” Nick tells him. “You guys just fucked.”

Sand, with Ray now propped against his shoulder, nods in agreement and says, “Yeah.”

“Ehh,” Ray says into Sand’s shoulder, waving a dismissive hand, “Sure, I guess. But when me and Mew did it, he didn’t think so. Anything can be fucking if you think it’s fucking, so like,” he makes a noise into Sand’s shoulder as Sand stares at him like he’s a lamb wearing a bowtie that can recite a poem, or something, “It’s not when Mew lost his virginity, is the main thing,” and he’s rambling a little as Nick’s attention gets caught.

Boston stands up, walks over to Nick, and picks his pocket for his phone.

Standing up straight as Nick stares in disbelief, he unlocks it without asking Nick for the code, and is soon holding it to his ear.

“Ton, what the fuck,” he asks, not really expecting an answer.

Boston smiles at him, then hears something on the other end that draws his gaze away as he bursts into a rapidfire, “You actually do know you guys fucked, right? You’re ju- he hung up.”

He’s pouting like he wasn’t expecting that for about a second before he shrugs.

“That’s chill, he doesn’t know my new number. I’ll text him,” Boston says, wandering off in search of a phone.

Huh.

Nick realises that right now, he wants to, like, drag Boston into his bedroom by his hair. He’s so fucking hot and weird with it, it makes Nick feel all fucking caveman about it. There might not be a The One for him like the two idiots who are finally stumbling towards Boston’s guestroom, but he doesn’t ever want to stop seeing this one.

#bostonnick #sandray #raymew #bostonray #only friends the series #only friends #robfic

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viktheviking1 · 1 year ago

Text

Minor Spoilers for Season 2 episode 6 (Mostly it just wouldn't make sense without context)

In the dimly lit corner booth of the bar that stank of lost hopes and dreams.

"What ever happened to your quieves? Were they released into the wild to become sewer rats? Because I don't think those pampered pups would survive-"

"They're fine." Fizz interrupted then chuckled, "When Ozzie and I got back to our room, they were there waiting. Practically tackled us to the floor with kisses."

He scrolled through his phone to show Blitz pictures, "The limo driver scooped them up while we were having our fistfight in the street. And I'm sure glad too, because while most of them are tough, this white one is Precious, and she needs her Daddy most of all."

Blitz was surprised to see Fizz gush proudly over the little creature, but was happy to see this side of his friend again, "D*mn, I wish my daughter needed me. I can't even get her to call me Dad most of the time."

"Dad? You in a kinky relationship or some sh*t?” Fizzarolli raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, right.” Blitz smiled and started his own proud dad rant, “No, I actually adopted a kid!”

He pulled out his phone to show his own pictures and began rambling, “Her name’s Loona, she’s 22, and a bit emo. Or was it goth? Anyway, she’s working with me at the I.M.P. Oh, right. That’s the company I started. It stands for Immediate Murder Professionals. We kill people for sinners who still have revenge to get on the surface. Loona’s also pretty d*mn good at tearing humans to shreds, if I do say so myself. But most of the time she’s our wonderful receptionist who is very good at her job even if she starts fights with half of our clients. Most of them deserve it, anyway.”

“Wow . . . A lot can happen in 15 years, huh?” Fizz said, handing back the phone.

“Uh, yeah . . . I guess it does. And that isn’t even the half of it! I went to prison, and broke out.” Blitz winked.

“No f**king way! Are you sh*tting me? We were supposed to do that together! I gotta hear this.” Fizz rested his face in his hands, ready to listen.

A couple hours later, stumbling out of the bar came Blitz and Fizz had their arms around each other together as they made their way over to Blitz’s van, tipsy and trying to steady themselves.

“And then I said, ‘What family?’”Blitz said and they both cry-laughed together.

“You absolute little sh*t.” Fizz laughed, “And you said you weren’t a comedian anymore.”

“Yeah, well, it’s a special brand of humor I suppose. Only us circus f**kers really get it.”

“Buckzo would be so ashamed.” Fizz snorted.

Blitz guffawed, “Good!”

Fizz caught his breath and turned to Blitz, "You know, I haven't had such a good time since Ozzie took me to a rock concert with 8 dozen cans of silly string." He wiped a happy tear from his eye, "We should do this again sometime."

Blitz couldn't believe what he was hearing. Only one thing could make this better. He looked around and saw the street was entirely devoid of people.

Too drunk to think clearly, he smirked and pinned Fizz against the side of the van, "Ya know, the night doesn't have to end here. I could take you back to my place, or we could go to yours? I wouldn't mind some quality time with you and the Misses."

Fizzarolli felt a tail curl around his inner thigh, "I- uh- . . ."

"Come on, Fizzy~" Blitz cooed in his ear, "Show me some of what you've learned in the lust ring."

Fizz swallowed and tried not to shudder as he felt Blitz's tongue on his neck, "I'm not sure if-"

Blitz slid his tongue across Fizzarolli's sharp teeth. He felt Fizz melt in his hands and he loosened his grip on the jester's wrists. Fizz's metal arms wrapped around Blitz, pulling him in. Blitz let his hands wander; one found its way to Fizzy's lower back while the other held his chin. He pulled back a little, and looked into Fizzy's eyes. They both stared deeply into each other, intoxicated by the nostalgic scent of an old friend, and the taste of old feelings on their tongues.

"I've missed you so much." Blitz finally let himself say.

"Yeah," Fizz interlocked his mechanical fingers with Blitz's and smiled, "Me too."

Fizz leaned in and kissed him again.

_________________________

Read more here:

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siremasterlawrence · 2 years ago

Text

The Imposter: Becoming Hemsworth

Chris Hemsworth is at the main Hollywood Foreign Press Event sitting for an interviewer who appears a bit weird with a strange pen.

The man taps the top of the pen creating a deep signature in it sparking out of control the pen lights up.

Chris is in absolute doubt at it first because it is the oddest thing then he felt himself stare in to it.

He falls a bit more leaning in his mouth grew slack, body falling forward and his eyes lose it color.

Staring mindlessly in to it Chris loses himself as his eyes close completely in to the back of his head.

He fell on to his shoulders snoring slipping in to coma I assume control of him I am the man.

Propping his body up to sit down in the chair across from me, I flip the switch off letting the light turn off.

Placing it back in his pocket he slips it in with excitement as I pull out a small piece of paper.

I reach in for a lighter to set it on fire letting the smoke release hitting his nostrils sending him into a crazy fit.

“Mr. Hemsworth! Can you hear me?”

“Yyyyyeeeeesssssss!”

“Excellent! I am your Lord Master”

“Everything I say is the truth”

“Close your eyes, feel your body overtaken”

“What the? No! This can’t be”

“Who are you? Why do you look like me?”

“You are mistaken my pal”

“What? I am Chris Hemsworth”

“No you are not! I am Chris Hemsworth”

“You are a obsessed stalker fan”

“You love me so much, you had to meet me”

“I could never disappoint you “

“You are committed to me”

“You even had plastic surgery to look like me”

“God! I love you “

“I am your god”

“Sign these papers over to relinquish all to me every last single item of yours”

“You can stand right next to me”

“I love my seat, bring me some champagne “

“Sir Yes sir”

Part 2

Chris opens the door our car driving us back to his home in a few of this ways I snap my fingers transforming his entire world.

At home his brother Liam one of my many crushes is waiting for me at my door step so I giggle.

I smack him a bit with one hard hit on his tiny head we giggle a bit I let my slave in to my room.

He gets busy so I invite Liam in for a drink in excitement I decide to move on with my plan .

“So bro!”

“Yeah Liam”

“What’s up?”

“I need advice “

“Whatever you want “

“Can you do me a favor though?”

“What is bro?”

“Take this pen”

“And?”

“Press the top”

“Woah! What on earth?”

Liam is freaking out as I slide in to his back feeling him up till my hand let his zipper go down.

Using my fingers to slide in to his ass I play him like a instrument, I forms fist fucking him hard.

I lick his right ear, then his left I watch his cock grow hard and I know for sure I have ensnared him.

I whisper in his ears blowing a bit feel so good to tease him with pathetic expression on his face.

I begin to fuck him raw hearing him squirm under me, and I can only think of how it will be so wonderful to own him.

“Wwwwwooooooaaaaahhhhh!”

“Oh My God!”

“I am your brother Chris”

“The most handsome out of all of us”

“You are my loyal slave and boyfriend”

“You are my puppet”

“Sign away your life, rights and everything to me.”

“Immediately “

“Don’t keep me waiting “

“Oh bro!”

“Luke is here “

“Tie him down”

“Wait what? Nnnnooooo!”

“I love you both “

“Look at the pen”

“Woah!”

“Mwahahahahaha “

“You worship me”

“I am the hottest thing ever “

“Yes Master”

“Sign your life away “

“Call me Master Lawrence “

“I am no longer Chris”

“I own you “

“Your sire and king”

“We owe you everything “

“Take us Master”

“Chris, Liam and Luke you are now my house bois.”

“With pleasure”

“What about our family?”

“Oh they are gone”

“I am your only family “

“Oh yeah”

“Dummy”

“Huhuhhuhuh”

“Fix the place”

“I have the set up”

“Perfect and exactly like this”

“Yes Master”

The end

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vendettaparker · 3 years ago

Text

Reckless [T.H]

Summary: In a fit of jealousy, Tom embarrasses you in front of your new friend and the entire pub, leaving you heartbroken at his reckless actions.

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Swearing, angst, slut-shaming

a/n: hi! sorry this took so so so long for me to get out! i got super busy with other works, but i’m super happy with how this turned out :) i hope you enjoy this, and don’t worry, i know how scary those warnings look ^ but this ends happy, i promise! as always, comments and reblogs are appreciated <3

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Tom was an idiot. He was an actual fucking idiot. He now realizes that as he watches you run out of the pub with hot tears streaming down your face. He watches as Harry runs after you, your bag in his hand, probably to make sure you make it back home safe since there was no way you’d return to the crowded bar, where Harrison and Sam were giving Tom death glares, the same little pub where Tom had made a complete fool out of you.

The few months Tom came home to London were always the setting of your most cherished memories. Sometimes it seemed like when he left so did the whole group of friends you surround yourself with.

There was no doubt in your mind that Tom was the life of the party. He had a certain aura about him that caused some of the most fucked up, but amazing situations to occur. That was probably one of the reasons you loved him so much.

When he was in town, his brothers, Harrison, and Tuwaine all joined together to make the next few months memorable before he had to leave again, and you were always included, but when he was gone, Harry usually went with him, Harrison focused on work for himself, and Sam focused on his restaurant. The world slowed down after Tom left, and so many times, you were left to wait for his return; alone.

Tom hated leaving you behind every time he went back to the states, but you had such deep roots in London, he didn’t want to pry you from your family for months on end. He loved you too much to constantly subject you to his hectic lifestyle. He spent as much time with you as he could when he saw you, but the second he had to go, it was all tearful goodbyes in a crowded airport.

You and Tom had been best friends for decades at this point. You supported him no matter what it was that he wanted to accomplish. He’s even said in interviews that he credits a huge bulk of his success to his friend back home, then he’d give a wink to the camera, and you always knew it was for you.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

When Tom came home after filming Spider-Man: No Way Home, you practically tackled him to the ground in a hug.

“You div,” You mumbled into his neck, “you forgot to let me FaceTime with Zendaya.”

“Oh, shit!” Tom gasped, finally remembering your request to talk to your favorite actress, “my bad.”

You looked at Tom incredulously, “I don’t think I can be friends with you anymore.” You feigned hurt, clutching your hand to your chest, “it just hurts too much.”

“That’s a damn shame,” Tom frowned, “I mean, I could just FaceTime Zendaya now, but if that’s how you—”

“I changed my mind,” You smiled sweetly, cutting him off, “love you, bestie.”

Tom rolled his eyes and pulled you into another hug, “Missed you, bestie.”

“Um,” Sam, Paddy, and Harrison stood behind you, clearing their throats.

“Missed you guys too,” Tom sighed, and he rushed over and gave his brothers and friend a hug.

You gave Harry a hug while Tom chatted with his brothers, quickly catching up with him.

“What’s the plan for tonight, guys?” You spoke up.

Every night after Tom got back, he’d go back to his flat and take a nap before a night out on the town. Usually, you’d bar hop a bit before going to a club, so tonight wasn’t likely to be any different.

“I was thinking we could get dinner at Lorenzo’s,” Harry said, “then maybe hit the pub on Ashford?”

You and the others nodded in agreement as you made your way out of the airport.

“Can I invite my friend Avery?” You asked.

Tom nodded, “Sure, I didn’t even know you had any other friends, (Y/N),” he joked.

“Haha,” You laughed sarcastically, “gee that was a good one, Tom. You really got me.”

“What can I say?” He smirked, “I’m a comedian.”

“Is that the guy you met in your philosophy lecture?” Harrison butt in.

“Yeah,” You nodded, “he’s really sweet, so be on your best behavior guys, and maybe don’t be yourselves, just this once?” you suggested with a slightly teasing tone.

“Are you trying to impress him or something?” Tom inquired.

“No,” You scoffed, “I’m just trying to not throw him to the wolves.”

Tom laughed along, but it was strained. He wasn’t too keen on the idea of adding a new member to your friend group, and the little glint in your eye when you talked about Avery made his heart tighten.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“Okay,” You smiled as you set the last of Tom’s luggage in his living room, “I’ll let you get some sleep then.”

You gave him one last hug and a kiss on the cheek, “see you later.”

Tom reciprocated and inhaled the sweet smell of lavender in your locks of hair, “mhm,” he sighed, “see ya.”

Harrison was about to walk out after you when Tom grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him back, “Mate, what the fuck.” he grumbled as he stumbled over his feet, “I thought you wanted to take a nap?”

“I slept on the plane,” Tom explained quickly, “you’ve been here the whole time, right?” Harrison nodded, “so you know this Avery guy, yeah?”

Harrison shook his head, “I haven’t talked to (Y/N) much this past month, but he’s probably on her Instagram.”

Harrison pulled out his phone and looked at posts you’d been tagged in, “Ah, here.” He handed the phone to Tom and pointed to the tall blonde guy in a group photo with you and some other friends, “He’s the tall blonde.”

Tom studied the picture with a small frown, “They’re not dating though, right?”

“She said he was her friend,” Harrison shrugged.

“You know what I mean,” Tom rolled his eyes, “do they look really chummy to you?”

“His hand’s kind of close to her butt, but other than that I don’t know.” Harrison pointed it out, causing Tom’s heart to momentarily stop.

“Ok, new plan,” Tom announced, “I’m going to ask (Y/N) out tonight.”

Harrison scoffed and rolled his eyes. “What?” Tom wondered.

“You’ve said that almost every single time you’ve been home and you always chicken out.”

“No, I don’t!” Tom gasped in offense, “It’s just hard to find the right time.”

“You’ve literally had hundreds of opportunities to tell her how you feel, Mate.”

“It has to be perfect.” Tom insisted, “I can’t just ask her out of the blue, I have to butter her up first.”

“That’s dumb.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Tom groaned, “get out, I changed my mind, I’m going to sleep.”

Harrison rolled his eyes and chuckled before giving Tom a pat on the back and leaving. Tom waved goodbye as Harrison drove away, and then rushed to his phone.

“FaceTime Zendaya,” he instructed Siri. The call went through and soon Tom was met with Zendaya's tired eyes in a dark room.

“Hey, Z!” Tom said cheerfully, “best friend, bestest pal in the world. The person that never wants to see me fail ever, my greatest companion—“

“Tom,” Zendaya groggily cut him off, “what the fuck do you want, I’m sleeping.”

“How do you ask a girl out?”

Zendaya sat up a little more and turned on her bedside lamp, “What? You don’t know how to ask a girl out?”

“Well I do,” Tom backtracked, “but I want it to be special. I’ve been in love with this girl for nearly two years now and every time I go to ask her out, I chicken out.”

“I don’t know, what does she like?”

“Well one time she told me her favorite animal was a sea otter, should I get her one?” Tom pondered, hand resting in his chin in thought.

“Um, no, what the fuck?” Zendaya squinted her eyes at Tom, “have you gotten any sleep yet?”

Tom shook his head, “This is important, Z, now help me!”

Zendaya rolled her eyes, “I’ll text you some ideas, but for now just go get some sleep. With how tired you are now you’d probably call her the wrong name or something.”

Tom rolled his eyes, but the action caused his eyelids to droop even more, “Fine, fine,” he conceded, “I’ll let you know how it goes.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“Okay,” Tom announced at the restaurant before you arrived, “I’m going to ask (Y/N) out tonight so I need you all to shut up and not distract me or make me nervous.”

Harrison, Harry, and Sam just stared at Tom. Tuwaine, for some unknown reason, started clapping.

“Tom,” Harrison began, “no offense, but—“

“Ah ah ah,” Tom stopped him, “is what you’re about to say going to bruise my ego?” Harrison thought about it for a moment before slowly nodding, “okay, then shut the fuck up, respectfully. I don’t need any bad juju tonight.”

“Well, I’m happy for you, Mate,” Tuwaine nodded. He was the closest to you after Tom and he knew all about your crush on the brown-haired Brit. You might’ve let it slip once when you were drunk, and since you didn’t willingly tell Tuwaine, he was sworn to secrecy. “I’m positive she’ll say yes.”

“Thank you,” Tom smiled at him, sending a slight glare to the others for their lack of faith in him. “As for the rest of you, I can’t wait to prove you wrong.”

You walked into the restaurant with Avery hunched over from laughing so hard. Tom smiled in your direction and waved you over, “Hey, (Y/N/N)! Over here!”

“Wow,” You chuckled, “must’ve been a good nap. Little energetic there, huh?”

Tom went in to give you a tight hug, holding you close, “Just missed you,” he mumbled into your hair.

“I just saw you a few hours ago?”

Avery stood by you awkwardly, waiting for Tom to release you. Tom reluctantly let you go and pulled a chair out for you, next to him.

“Thanks,” you smiled at him, motioning for Avery to sit next to you, “hey, everyone,” you smiled at the group of boys that were properly about to piss themselves at Tom’s over-the-top behavior, “this is Avery.”

“Hi,” He waved at the group as a small chorus of ‘hellos’ rang across the table. He turned to Tom to shake his hand, “I’m a big fan, Mate. Love your work.”

Tom smiled and patted him on the shoulder, “Thanks, it means a lot.” smiled politely, shaking Avery's hand.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Dinner went off without a hitch, at least in your opinion. Avery was melding well with your friends and he was cracking jokes like he’d know the group for years.

The boys seemed to enjoy his sense of humor and what he added to the conversation. Sam and him even found that they shared an interest in cooking, which led to them having a slightly heated discussion about how real Gordon Ramsey’s cooking skills are; which ended in laughs.

However, Tom was probably having one of the worst nights of his life. Every time Avery playfully shoved you while you two laughed he wanted to wring his neck. It also didn’t help that he couldn’t find the perfect time to ask you out. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to ask you out with all of his mates around.

Tom smiled and laughed along with the jokes, but once you looked away he was back to frowning.

“Tom,” Harry nudged his brother, “wipe that scowl off your face.”

“I’m not scowling,” Tom grumbled, “this is my normal face.”

Harry rolled his eyes and kicked his older brother under the table, “You need to ask her soon. I think Avery is trying to make some moves on her.” Harry noticed, seeing how Avery casually had his arm around your chair.

Tom rolled his eyes, “As if I can't see that for myself,” he scoffed. “I don’t want to ask her with all of you watching. What if she says no?”

“We can leave you alone for a bit when we go to the pub, but I’m not sure if Avery will go with us.” Harry shrugged, “you could always ask her out tomorrow.” Harry suggested.

“No!” Tom exclaimed, causing everyone to look at him and Harry, “Sorry, I—um, I just don’t really like that shirt on you Harry; it makes my eyes hurt.”

Harry looked down at his shirt for a moment and then frowned, sending a light smack to Tom, “You bought me this shirt you div.”

Everyone went back to their own conversations so Tom leaned in to talk to Harry some more, “I can’t wait for tomorrow. What if I chicken out again?”

“Then you’re an idiot.” Harry deadpanned with a shrug.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The pub was way more packed than anyone expected. The new addition of live music to the outside patio definitely livened up the place and more customers went to see what local band would be playing next.

The pub had a classic English pub feel, with the wood flooring and the yellow-tinted walls, but it also had a modern twist with a back patio and outdoor seating with fairy lights, and the lights that illuminate under the bar itself.

“I’m gonna go check out the band,” Harry announced after he came back with your drinks, “you guys should all come with me.” He said with a slight side-eye to Sam, Tuwaine, and Harrison.

“Eh, I’m not really into—” Sam began, but Harry sent him a quick kick under the table. “Ow! I mean, I love music.” Sam smiled enthusiastically.

“I’m gonna stay back and finish this beer,” Tom said, holding up the large pint of beer he was already a quarter of the way through, “(Y/N), wanna race to see who can finish first?” He suggested trying to get you to stay behind.

“Oh you’re totally on,” You smirked, “but I am going to take a quick peek at the band. We can race after I get back.” You got up from your seat and began walking away with Harry and the boys. Tom pouted at how horribly that plan worked. Harry looked back at Tom apologetically as he held the door open for you.

“Wow,” Avery smiled beside Tom, scaring him, “she really is something.”

“Holy shit, Mate,” Tom held a hand to his heart, “you almost gave me a heart attack. I thought you went with them?”

“Nah,” Avery shook his head, “I’m not really into music,” he shrugged.

“Oh, okay,” Tom nodded. “What were you just saying?”

“(Y/N),” Avery looked towards the back patio exit dreamily, “she’s amazing. I mean I would definitely ask her out, but probably not at a pub surrounded by her mates, y’know?”

“Mhm, yeah,” Tom said quietly, his heart already beginning to shatter into millions of inconsolable pieces. “I mean, she’s alright.” He said with a forced laugh, trying to fend Avery away from you, “she definitely isn’t really your type, though.”

“What do you mean?” Avery asked, taking a sip from his beer, “she’s perfect, mate.”

“I mean,” Tom racked his brain for an excuse big enough to make Avery not want you, “you don’t think it’s a little weird she’s in a friend group with all boys?”

“No,” Avery said slowly, skeptically looking back at the exit, “she just clicks with boys, I guess. Girls and guys can just be friends.”

“Not her,” Tom scoffed, “I mean, it’s just a little obvious, y’know?”

You and the rest of the boys were heading back in, seeing as the back patio was completely overcrowded with patrons.

“What’s obvious?” Avery asked, raising his voice slightly due to the volume in the bar.

“(Y/N)’s only friends are guys!” Tom nearly yelled over the volume of chatter, not realizing that the surrounding customers could hear him, “makes me wonder how many she’s slept with! I mean, that’s not a coincidence to me!”

The surrounding customers halted their conversations, leaving only Tom’s voice filtering through the air and into your ears.

“That’s crazy,” Avery chuckled awkwardly, “I don’t think she’s like that.” He shook his head, annoying Tom. In a final last-ditch effort to get Avery off your back, he said the worst thing he could, loudly, into a quieting pub.

“Well, she hits on me all the time,” Tom shrugged, “she’s just a bit whorish, I guess.”

“Tom,” Tuwaine cleared his throat, interrupting their conversation, “what the fuck, mate?”

Tom looked at all the boys next to Tuwaine, and behind them was you, teary-eyed with harsh sobs racking through your body.

You whispered something to Harry, and then all but ran out the front door. Harry walked over to where Tom was sitting and picked up your purse.

“Harry I—” Tom tried.

“Shut the fuck up, Tom.” Harry snapped, “You're an idiot and an asshole, just leave things be.”

Harry ran out the pub entrance, following you to give you a ride home.

Tuwaine, Sam, and Harrison shook their heads once the shock ebbed away. One by one they all left Tom sitting in shock and agony at the bar. Avery, not knowing any of the group, barely knew what was going on or if Tom’s accusations were correct, left the pub and went home without another word.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“Harry,” Tom whined into the phone, “please tell me how to fix this, please I’m begging you.”

Harry sighed, now properly regretting lifting his silent treatment from Tom, “Tom, there is absolutely nothing I can do to help you, and even if there was, I wouldn’t. You called her a whore in front of a crowded pub—”

“I know!” Tom yelled, “And I’ve been living with that guilt for three weeks now! Please, Harry. I-I messed up so bad.” Tom’s voice cracked, “I tried calling and texting, a-and my texts started turning green. She blocked me,” Tom sobbed, “I’m in love with her, and I never got to tell her. I ruined our relationship before it even began.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, “you did.”

“Harry, I just want to apologize properly, please.” Tom begged, “I tried going to her house, but her roommate threw a drink at me and told me she went out of town. Where is she?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Harry,” Tom sighed, “I’m trying so hard here, I don’t care where she is, I’ll go anywhere for her. Please, I just can’t keep waiting in the dark for her to talk to me.”

Harry sighed, rubbing his forehead, “Okay, fine, but don’t tell her I told you where she was. And if you get your face clawed off, just know that you deserve it.”

“Okay, okay, now tell me.”

“She’s been staying with Tuwaine and his girlfriend.”

“Okay, thanks, love you, bye!” Tom said through the phone, already grabbing his keys.

Harry sighed and began texting Tuwaine,

Harry: Tom’s coming over, don’t snap him in half, he just wants to talk to her.

Tuwaine: I’m not home right now, but I'd be more worried about her snapping him in half…

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Tom pulled up the Tuwaine’s flat and pounded at the door. He didn’t see Tuwaine’s car in the driveway but he saw yours parked on the street so he knew you were in there.

“(Y/N)!” He desperately called, “Come on, I know you’re in there!”, his pleas were met with silence and he rang the doorbell on repeat, “(Y/N), please! I just want to talk!”

The door opened to show you standing there with your messy hair and stained sweats, still looking overwhelmingly perfect in Tom’s eyes. He noticed the dark circles and the dried tears and his heart broke, even more, knowing he caused this. He loved you so much and he caused you some of the worst pain imaginable. All he wanted to do was hold you and kiss your puffy cheeks, desperately whispering praises into your ear. You were perfect in every sense of the word, and he let you believe you were anything less. He was an idiot—the biggest idiot in the world—for making you cry.

“What do you want?” You snapped with a sniffle, pulling him back to reality as you rubbed your red eyes.

“I just want to talk,” Tom gave you a small smile, “please.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you.” You scowled, “You need to leave.”

“No, (Y/N), please.” Tom begged, “I’m sorry. I’m so so so fucking sorry. I was being an idiot and—please, (Y/N), you’re my best friend. I don’t wanna lose you.” Tom’s voice cracked, but you remained stoic in the doorway.

“I’m your best friend? Really?” You scoffed, “I thought I was just some whore you let hang around you?”

Tom winced at his words being thrown back into his face, “I didn’t mean it, I swear,” he promised, tears glistening in his eyes, “I don’t even know why I said that. I was being so fucking stupid—”

“No,” You interrupted his rambling, “you don’t get to say that. You don’t get to say that it was just you “being stupid”. Who the hell says that about their supposed best friend? Why would you even think that? You don’t just get to call me those things in public, and then say that you don’t know why you did it. You can’t even give me a reason—”

“I’m in love with you,” Tom blurted out, blowing out a puff of air in stress, “I’ve been in love with you for the longest time, (Y/N). And Avery was saying how he wanted to ask you out, and I couldn’t lose you. I didn’t want to lose you. I had so many plans for us, and I wanted to be with you—to be yours—more than anything, and I let my jealousy get in the way. I’m sorry because if I deserved you I wouldn’t have done that.”

You stood in the doorway of the flat, arms crossed over your chest. “I can’t believe you’d be so reckless.” You said after a moment of silence, “I would’ve been yours if you had just asked me.”

“I’m sorry,” Tom cried, reaching out to hold your hand, but you backed away ever so slightly, “please, I would do anything to fix it if I could.”

“You don’t understand anything, Tom.” You frowned.

“Help me understand.” He begged.

You pondered it for a moment and then released a sigh, coupled with a few tears, “I loved you,” you admitted. Tom’s heart did a leap, but then he realized that you were talking past tense as if his chance with you was gone.

“And I would spend months and months just waiting for you to come home so I could spend time with you. I was so lonely when you and Harry left; I always am. Avery offered to spend some time with me after class one day and I agreed because I don’t have anybody else when you leave. And it was fun, but he wasn’t you. He’ll never compare to the place you had in my heart, but at least I wasn’t alone anymore.” You sighed and began closing the door again, “Now, because of you, I have no one again.”

The door was about to slam back in Tom’s face, but he shoved his foot in the threshold, “(Y/N), wait,” he pleaded, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize how important Avery was to you. I can never undo what I did, but please let me make it up to you. I just need you to understand how sorry I am.”

You opened the door again and looked at Tom’s sad eyes, boring into you, “I do understand how sorry you are, but I don’t know how I can trust you again. You said awful things about me without even batting an eye or taking a breath—”

“I know,” Tom sighed, “I know and I’d give anything to take it back. I just want you back (Y/N). Even if you don’t want to be my girlfriend, I can’t leave knowing I’ve lost my best friend.”

“As much as it hurts,” You caved, moving from the doorway to let Tom in, “I still love you, and I don’t want to lose you either.”

Tom smiled and walked into the flat, immediately pulling you into a hug, “I’m so sorry, (Y/N),” You hugged back and sniffled into his hoodie, before pulling away with a sigh.

“I know,” You nodded, “I forgive you. But next time, just be honest with me and tell me how you’re feeling. I’d give you the world if you asked for it.”

Tom smiled and stroked your tear-stained cheek, “I’ll just settle on your heart for now, if that’s okay?”

“That’s so fucking cheesy.” You giggled, wiping the tears from your eyes, “I love it.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

✧tags & moots✧ @ptersmj @princessofguineapigs @peterbenjiparker @cherrytholland @itsapeterthing @justapurrcat @thirstiestpotato @kelieah @iovebug @waitimcomingtoo @rosyparkers @parkers-gal @allegra-writes @starktonyx @celestialholland @hollandcrush @londonspidey @blissfulparker @spidernerdsblog @spidey-sophie @spideyspeaches @peterparkers-bad-youtube-apology @andilovetowrite @sinisterspidey @asonofpeter @westcoastcigar @arlo-sanders @love-peterparker @boiolay @letssee2468 @white-wolf1940 @fandom-life-12 @hollandsdream @annathesillyfriend @lovelybarnes @miseryholland @wierdteenagenerd @duskholland @hollandprkr @lauras-collection @arvinsescape @hollandsrecs

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fanfic #tom holland oneshot #tom holland angst #tom holland peter parker #peter parker #spiderman #peter parker smut #requested

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phantomrose96 · 3 years ago

Text

Buds After the Frost

This was supposed to be a short warm-up writing exercise yesterday and then it got... longer. Enjoy!!

...

The doors opened for Maddie Fenton with a pneumatic hiss. Pressurized nitrogen released, splitting open the vacuum seal on the door as its twin halves slid apart, slotting into the wall-mounted sleeves. The nitrogen misted out, cold and dry, air currents catching in swirls around Maddie Fenton’s lab coat. Her feet thocked against hollow metal, amplified by the coldness and the vastness of the containment room beyond.

She paused short of the specimen’s cell, mindful attention drawn to the panel of controls nested rightmost against the wall. The monitor read out stats, tracked metrics of the specimen’s heartrate and blood oxygenation and blood pressure. Dials beneath the screens offered her means of interaction, manipulating the cage’s environment without needing to tamper with it by hand. She ignored these, as she had been ignoring them the entire time, and paid mind only to the single switch which would seal shut the doors behind her.

She pressed it. Another pneumatic hiss followed, locking out the world behind her. Her breath curled, cold. She and the specimen were alone.

“No coffee this morning?” he asked.

Maddie sat down at the control panel, elbow leaning against the dashboard for support. She turned to the cage. “No. One of the interns broke the pot last night. New one should be delivered today.”

Phantom let out a huff of air. “You mean in this whole gigantic mega-hyper-futuristic government lab, there’s nothing that can stand in as a coffee pot?”

“I wouldn’t stay employed long if I tried using equipment to brew coffee.”

“Use one of the big ectoplasm beakers. Ectoplasm washes out with soap and water. Just suds it up and throw it in the coffee maker. I’m an expert about these things.”

“It’s more about protocol.”

Phantom waved her off. “’Protocol.’ Bureaucracy is standing between you and a delicious cup of ectoplasmic coffee, Dr. Fenton.”

Maddie looked forward now, taking him in. He’d hovered to the front of the cell, translucent reinforced glass separating him from the rest of the lab. Green eyes shined above a cheeky smile, a dusting of loose white hairs falling over his eyes, the rest of his bangs swept slightly to the side. His tailed flickered, his aura pulsed, his vital readings blipped out steady, normal, healthy.

“Phantom?”

“Yeah?”

Maddie paused.

“Why are you still here?”

The ghost boy let out a small guffaw. He motioned his arms around him, hands waving. “I dunno. Maybe the big ghost-proof box I’m in has something to do with it?”

“The shield is down, Phantom,” Maddie answered quietly. She set her eyes to Phantom, investigating. “…I put it down last night. It’s down now. You knew this.”

Phantom took just a moment too long to react, eyebrows arching up. “Oh, huh! Nope I didn’t notice. I mean it’s not like I’m constantly throwing myself at the barrier to electrocute myself so no I just didn’t try getting past it last night so I didn’t notice.”

“Phantom,” Maddie said again, voice measured, words stern. “You saw me crank down the dial that controls the shield.”

“Well I don’t know what all those buttons and dials do.”

“Yes you do. You’ve been observing me since day 1. You knew.”

Phantom kicked back in the air, floating a fraction back and higher. “Well maybe I thought it was a trap, I dunno. Or maybe I just like to get in your head, you know? What unpredictable thing will Phantom do next! Gotta write another 200 equations about ghost theory to figure that one out, Dr. Fenton.”

“Phantom.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you not want to leave?”

“Oh I wanna leave.”

“Then why aren’t you?”

“We’re having a conversation. That’d be rude.”

“Will you leave as soon as I exit the room?”

“Who knows?”

“Phantom.”

“Yeah?”

Maddie stood. She left her chair and the control panel behind. She walked up to the specimen cage instead. It was cubic, a skeleton of metal bar ribbings with a metal mesh that plastered the glass sides like a membrane. The top anchored to the ceiling, the bottom—raised by about a foot—anchored to a pedestal on the floor. Maddie stared through the mesh into Phantom’s eyes.

“Is there anyone who realizes you’re missing?” she asked.

Phantom chewed on the question. “Nah. Well um, trick question, actually. Probably not. Assuming I do this right, then no one has even realized I’m gone.”

“Do what ‘right’?”

“You know that thing about Clockwork I explained?”

“You said he’s the ghost that controls time and reality.”

“Yeah. SUPER powerful.”

“And you said you …were from one of those other realities.”

Phantom nodded. “Maybe I touched some things in Clockwork’s lair I wasn’t actually allowed to touch. Jury’s still out on whether I’m in trouble for that or not. I’ve been a little too ‘stuck in this reality’ to know if Clockwork is pissed. But yeah, I got um, bopped into your reality instead of mine. So technically my reality is lacking me right now, and yeah there’s people there who’d know I’m missing.”

Phantom flipped upside-down, as though laying on his back. He rested his palms beneath his head, elbows out, suspended in an invisible hammock, head tilted far back so that he still stared at Maddie. “Especially since it’s been, what, a month that I’ve been gone?”

“2 weeks.”

“What? No way. I’ve been here absolutely forever it has to have been at least a month.”

“This is day 14 of your observation, Phantom.”

Phantom blew a strand of hair out of his face. “Anyway. Two weeks is still long enough to have a search party out on my butt. But whether or not that’s happened is up to – it’s kind of a Schrodinger thing. Because here’s my strategy. Assuming Clockwork hasn’t banned me from reality-hopping forever, I can just get him to send me back to my own reality at the precise moment in time I vanished. And then bam, no one ever knows I was gone. And it makes no difference whether I do that today, or next week, or next month. So assuming you eventually let me go, then I’m all set there.”

“You say that almost like you don’t care when it happens.”

“I dunno, more like I’m just not losing sleep over it. It’s not like I have a say in the matter. You do. I don’t.”

“Is the time you spend here just meaningless, to you?”

“I wouldn’t say meaningless. I’m still aging goddammit.”

“You’re a ghost.”

“I’m complex.” Phantom flipped right-side-up again. “If I start growing facial hair, send me back. I’m gonna have some awkward questions to answer if I show up again with a ghost beard suddenly.”

“…And what if I never send you back?” Maddie asked, careful with her words. “How does your plan work if you stay here forever? If I destroy you first?”

“Um. …It doesn’t, I guess.” Phantom set a hand to his chin, thinking. “Yeah um, please don’t do that. I don’t wanna worry my whole family like that.”

“Do you really mean that?”

“What part?”

“That you have a family.”

“I mean. I think that came up in Interrogation Session #3. Consult your notes.”

“I just have a hard time believing you.”

“Because I’m a ghost?”

“Yes.”

“I’m a complex ghost.”

“I know. You keep saying that.”

“It’s true.”

Silence filtered in between them.

“…What is your family like, Phantom?”

Phantom stiffened a fraction, his eyes finding Maddie’s and shifting away. “Oh, you know, family.”

“Do they exist here too?”

“Huh?”

“You’re from another reality, at least you’re claiming you are.”

“I gotta be. The me from this reality died 6 months ago, didn’t he?”

“The you from most realities is dead, Phantom. You’re a ghost.”

“A complex ghost.”

“The you from this reality was destroyed 6 months ago.”

“Which you validated with your own sciencey equipment, right? You said so! So you know I’m not lying. Unless you think I recombobulated myself from being a protoplasmic smear on the sidewalk.” Phantom caught himself, registering the flinch in Maddie’s body. He deflated a bit, eyes averted. “S-sorry. Inconsiderate phrasing.”

“Why?” Maddie asked, tone flat, blunt.

Phantom’s eyes shifted back. “Um. Just. You know. That accident was. There were um, you know—”

“Human causalities.”

Phantom squirmed. “We don’t have to talk about that, you know? No one wants to talk about that. Okay as a ghost I guess ‘talking about how I died’ is sort of a bit more normal, but this is weird yeah, ‘talking about how an alternate-me died permanently’? That’s morbid. No one wants to talk about that.”

“Okay then. You can go back to answering my previous question.”

“Um. I forget.”

“Does your family exist in this reality?”

“Um, well who really knows, you know? I had like a grand total of 20 minutes of freedom in this reality before you captured me, so, don’t ask me like I’m any kind of expert about your reality. What’s it matter?”

“I want to know if there’s anyone in this reality who’s mourning you.”

Phantom’s face schismed with surprise. His front dropped, and the first look of genuine emotion sank into his glowing eyes. “Woah… That’s um, weirdly nice, of you, I guess. Why do you… want to know?”

Maddie said nothing.

“I. Um. I think the answer is no? So don’t um. Worry about that. If you were worried? Which is weird. I’m the enemy, aren’t I? Evil spooky ghost to be studied?”

“I’m not so sure what you are…” Maddie answered. “I heard you got destroyed trying to save them.”

“The um… the human casualties?”

“Yes.”

“I said we don’t have to talk about that.”

“Phantom.”

“What?”

“Do you know who they were?”

“The… casualties?”

“Yes.”

“Come on we’re on a different topic now.”

“Do you know who they were?”

“I don’t—how’m I supposed to know? I don’t know how I died here, you know? You think I’ve got some kind of like… parallel-universe death vision?”

“So you don’t know?”

“N-no.”

“I have a different question, then.”

“Okay, good, because I haven’t been liking these previous ones.”

“Are you staying just to keep me company?”

Phantom faltered. He looked left, then right, hand scratching at his chin. “I’m staying because I’m in a ghost-proof box.”

“It’s not ghost-proof anymore. The shields are down.”

“I feel like you’re circling around some accusation I’m not smart enough to follow. This feels like entrapment.”

“Then I’ll be more direct.”

“Oh no there is an accusation.”

“I think you do know how you were destroyed in this universe, Phantom.” Maddie took a step forward, and she let her left hand touch the glass, eyes focused on her fingers. “I think you know what happened at the Nasty Burger.”

“That’s—um—the human food… consumption… location… that the local human adolescents meet at, yes?”

Maddie looked up, and she locked Phantom with her stare. He squirmed, and he relented.

“I um…” he continued. “I—yeah—yeah, okay? I know about the Nasty Burger accident. It was supposed to happen to me too in my reality but I—Clockwork—stopped it from happening in my reality.” Phantom glanced left, right, as if staring beyond the confines of his cage. “When I first got knocked into this reality, I went to go find the Fenton portal so I could try to refind Clockwork and fix this and… Well it wasn’t there. And I tried to find some people I know and… I checked out the library in case the Fentons just lived somewhere else and. I um. I found the articles.” His eyes focused on hers again. “They all say you were the only survivor, yeah…?”

“I was sick, that day. It was just a cold. My husband Jack went without me.”

“I’m sorry…”

“It took my daughter and my son too.”

“I’m so sorry…”

“And it destroyed you.”

Phantom opened his mouth, but no words followed.

Maddie looked up.

“You knew this. You’ve known this ever since I captured you.” Maddie let her hand slide away from the glass. “Did you let me capture you?”

“Why would I let you capture me?”

“Because you feel sorry for me.”

Phantom’s eyes flickered about, unwilling to meet hers. “…Nah. Nah. I don’t—come on ‘sorry’? I’m a ghost you know? Bane of humanity! We’re enemies. You were just too skilled a hunter and you captured me.”

“And yet you won’t leave.”

Phantom lapsed silent.

“I um… I wasn’t happy to read about—to know the, the thing at the Nasty Burger happened here, okay? That’s something that I kinda didn’t want to believe existed in any reality anymore, but I guess… And if you were still alive. I was… maybe just kind of happy to see you? That you were okay. And still hunting. That was kind of, like a small relief.” Phantom glanced away, back again. “I wasn’t evil, you know. In my reality or this one. I care about what happened to the Fentons…”

“You let me capture you. …And you did it because you thought it would be a nice thing for you to do for me.”

“I Just—I thought maybe, um… I mean when you phrase it like that. I mean what else could cheer up renowned ghost hunter Maddie Fenton quite like a ghost subject to study? Me, especially? The ghost boy or public enemy #1 or whatever. I’m fun, aren’t I?”

Silently, Maddie pushed away from Phantom’s cage. She moved to the control panel, stiff movements and numb fingers. She entered the release code into the console, and unslung the key from her neck to twist into the override, and she threw down each successive lever in the row of four lining the top of the mechanisms.

The scrape of glass sliding away sounded behind her. All four walls of Phantom’s enclosure dropped away, metal mesh sliding away piece-meal. Phantom stared at her, blinking, floating in place.

“You’re free to go, Phantom.”

“I—uh—well hang on, I don’t think the Guys In White would be too happy about that. You can’t just let me—”

“Go, Phantom.”

“They could like, fire you.”

“I don’t care about this job.”

“I—come on, you still wanna study me, don’t you? Chat with me? If you feel bad maybe just get me a couch and some video games for my cage then I’ll be—”

“Phantom.”

“What?”

“Go home to your family.”

The half-hearted smile dropped from Phantom’s face.

“Come on. You can’t just evict me on such short notice. I’m not ready for Clockwork to kick my ass so soon.”

“Go home.”

“I’m not in any rush! I like talking to you. Don’t you—don’t you like talking to me too? In like a scientific way?”

Maddie lowered herself into the chair by the control panel. She leaned forward, arms pooled in her lap, eyes to the floor. “You have a family to get back to, Phantom.”

“It’s—there’s time travel shenanigans! Like I said they don’t even know I’m gone.”

“Every single day, Phantom,” Maddie looked up, eyes stern, “…I wish every single day that my own family would just come back home. I won’t do the same to you. I won’t do the same to your family.”

Phantom said nothing. A somber acceptance sunk into his eyes.

“They’re… alive, you know. In my dimension.”

Maddie dropped her head, and she blinked away the wetness in her eyes.

“I actually… in my dimension I’m kind of closer to the Fentons than I think the, the Phantom in this dimension was. It’s… complex.”

Maddie said nothing. Silence built between them.

“Jazz is um… Jazz is applying for colleges, y-you know. She got in early-acceptance to Yale but um, we all—they all—visited Columbia last month and I think that’s what she wants the most. I can see Jazz in New York City. I think she’d rock it.”

Maddie blinked again. Tears plicked into her lap.

“…Should I stop?”

“Jack… Tell me about Jack.”

“Oh. Yeah he um… big and goofy as ever. He’s got some kind of eight-armed-octogun he’s working on. I know because I was his target practice, involuntarily by the way. He keeps trying to merge “Fenton” and “octopus” together with mixed results. We—Mo-addie—you… are still trying to talk him out of ‘Fentoctopus’.”

Maddie’s ribcage shuddered, a repressed sob, a repressed laugh.

“And Danny?”

“Danny… um… Danny is...” Phantom’s shoulders fell a little bit. He looked away, and then back at Maddie. “He loves you. I know that.”

Maddie blinked, and blinked again, and her eyes wouldn’t clear.

“And are they happy?”

“They’re happy.”

“Am I happy…?”

“You’re…” Phantom’s tail bounced. “You’re happy, I think. I like to think so. I think you’re very happy. You have a great family.”

Maddie nodded.

“Now go.”

“But I still—”

Maddie reached forward, and she grabbed the ecto-gun propped against the control panel. She lifted it into her shoulder, and flicked the safety, and the charge built along the rising whine.

“Go.”

Phantom balked. He blinked. He kicked away from his wall-less cage. “Not forever. I’ll be back. You won’t be alone here forever.”

He was gone.

And Maddie was alone again.

…

Clockwork surveyed the boy in front of him whose head was bowed nearly to the floor, white bangs trailing along cobblestone, hands clasped, apologies repeated, begging case made.

Clockwork ran a hand along his beard, which unfurled, drew back, undid itself with the shifting of his form to a simple child.

“So let’s see. You have the audacity to break my rules andbeg me to meddle on your behalf in the time stream, all in the same breath? Apologies don’t usually come with additional requests for favors.”

“I know,” Danny’s head dipped lower. “You can punish me however you want for touching the restricted timelines but you have to help it, or let me help this one timeline. Please, please just send me back to the Nasty Burger incident so I can save it.”

“It’s already been saved.”

Danny faltered. He looked up.

“You died at the Nasty Burger incident that night,” Clockwork elaborated, form shifting older. “There is no you to ruin that future. That timeline is safe. It’s a very lucky timeline.”

Danny blinked. “N-no. No that’s not what I mean. Save it like you saved my timeline.”

“That did happen. You’re describing your own timeline.”

“I mean do it to THAT one.”

“You are misunderstanding timelines.”

Danny lapsed silent. Worry bled into his eyes, and Clockwork sighed.

“There is no undoing timelines, Danny. There is only forking them by meddling in the stream. All futures and pasts you witness exist, and do exist, and continue to exist,” Clockwork paused, “with the exception of realities I needed to cull, to prevent utter catastrophe.” His gaze fixed on Danny. “The futures that your evil self destroyed, I did have to cull. And culling a reality is not to be done lightly.”

Clockwork motioned with his staff. “There were a handful of surviving realities that I was able to save. That room you meddled in without my permission—they contain the realities off the main track where, for one reason or another, something else succeeded at destroying your future self. …Your own deaths, in fact. In every one of those realities, Danny, you are dead.”

“I don’t…” Danny shook his head. “So then just tell me how to save that one I was in, okay?”

“Oh, that’s easy.”

“How?”

“You don’t.”

Danny said nothing. Clockwork shifted young.

“You can let it live on in that room, or you could ask me to cull it, Danny. You could ask me to cull every reality in that room, so that the main branch, the one you’re from, is the only reality in existence. So you never have to worry about any existence where your family is unhappy. And it will be that way until you, or I, or someone else, meddles with the timestreams again, and more splits occur.”

Still, Danny said nothing. Clockwork continued.

“Sometimes, a mass culling of realities is healthy for the tree of time, like pruning a plant down to its stalk to survive an unforgiving winter, or a terrible disease. But I did that, just recently, to save all of time from the blight of your future self. It would feel cruel to snip off the first buds that have come after the frost.”

Danny lowered himself to the floor.

“Okay…”

“Okay?”

He nodded. “Okay. Just. I have a different question then.” He looked up, a young devastation wet in his eyes. “Can I still go back and visit that reality, sometimes?”

“No. I cannot give you permission to do that.”

“Please!”

Clockwork spun his staff. A portal swirled into being in the space between him and Danny. Washes of color formed patterns, shapes, objects, images. Like a mirror, it reflected Clockwork’s lair beyond its shimmering surface.

“This is a portal back into your own reality. It is set to the location and the time that you vanished. Go there, and leave through the Fenton portal, and nothing will be amiss.”

“No. No no I won’t. Clockwork you have to let me—”

“I am doing you a favor, Danny, getting you home after you caused more trouble. Do not make further demands of me.” Clockwork curled forward, old, sallow skin sagging, and he turned his back to Danny.

“You have to give me permission—”

“I am the only one who has permission to meddle in realities, Danny. This is an absolute.” Clockwork glanced over his shoulder. “And because this is an absolute, I have no reason to have a lock on the room housing those budding other realities.”

Danny blinked.

“I wonder if anyone might break my rules anyway. I wonder if anyone might be nosy, and enter that room anyway, and water the plants in that greenhouse without my permission.” Clockwork stared forward again.

“Clockwork…”

“Luckily I am the master of all time. I would be able to see this coming. And maybe plan for it. If ever such a person would come into my lair, and meddle in my timelines, and try to spread a bit of his own kindness to the realities he couldn’t quite save, I would be fully prepared to stop him.” Clockwork spoke into the green abyss beyond him. “Unless, maybe, I were to accidentally have my back turned.”

Silence trailed after Clockwork’s words. He kept his back to Danny, staring into the abyss of swirling green ether beyond.

“…Thank you,” Danny answered, quietly. “I’ll be back.”

“I imagine you will. Those realities may get lonely without you.”

When Clockwork glanced back over his shoulder, both Danny and the portal were gone.

#Danny Phantom #dp #dp fanfiction #me: -writes any kind of interaction between Maddie and Phantom where Maddie has captured Phantom-#me: 'haha sick Phantom of Truth reference'#ANYWAY i got really attached to a terrible what-if #please enjoy

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queen-haq · 3 years ago

Text

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 17

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Rating: R for language and smut.

Words: ~3300 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost…

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 ��Part 16

Part 17

Billy couldn’t stop gawking at you, wondering how it was possible you grew more beautiful each time he saw you. The red wrap dress you were wearing accentuated all your curves, and it took every bit of willpower he had not to rip it off of you and fuck you senseless right then and there. Unfortunately, he had to behave himself. Caravan was a pretty bouji place that had recently been labelled as one of the hottest restaurants in Manhattan and he had to pull a few strings to get a last-minute reservation for tonight. But seeing the smile on your face when you realized this was where you were dining had been completely worth all the hassle.

As the hostess guided the two of you to your table, he noticed a few assholes at the bar admiring you from afar. Immediately he snaked his arm around your waist to draw you in closer. You were his. If he could he’d pluck out every one of those fuckers’ eyes so they never made the mistake of looking at you again. Better yet, he’d keep you locked behind closed doors. Of course you wouldn’t agree to anything like that because you were too goddamn independent for your own good.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, taking a seat at your designated table.

Billy’s attention returned to your face as he followed suit, his gaze inhaling you in. “You look too hot. Too many assholes staring at you,” he grumbled.

The worried look on your face was replaced with a beaming smile, one that made his cock twitch.

“You’re being ridiculous” you remarked, scanning the menu.

His eyes drifted down to your chest, the swell of your soft, supple breasts just begging to be kissed and licked by him.

“Stop staring at my boobs, Billy,” you chastised even as a small smile graced your lips. “This is a proper first date. You can’t just ogle me like that. You have to behave like a gentleman.”

He quirked his eyebrow. “Sweetheart, I’ve never been that.”

“Well, try,” you ordered.

The waitress came by with the bottle of red wine you’d requested and poured some in both of your glasses. He noticed the redhead giving him a friendly smile, her green eyes lingering on him for a second too long. Fine, yeah, she may have been hot but she wasn’t you. No one was. So while he would have happily slipped her his number in the past, now the idea of being with someone who wasn’t you no longer excited him.

Once she left, he took the opportunity to move a few inches closer to you. What he really wanted was to get on his knees and bury his head between your legs, but something told him eating you out in in the crowded restaurant wouldn’t go over very well with you.

“I think she likes you.”

Hand propped on the back of your chair, he started playing with your hair. “Who?”

“Our waitress. She didn’t look at me once, her eyes were on you the entire time.”

He leaned in, ecstatic at the thought of you acting possessive. Even though you’d confessed to having feelings for him, Billy still worried you were ready to bolt at any moment. To see you jealous meant you genuinely cared and he didn’t have to worry about you leaving him. “She’s not my type. I have my eyes on someone else.”

You made a show of looking around the restaurant. “Oh, is Madani here too?”

“Funny,” he retorted, taking your hand in his.

“Your ginger’s lucky. I’m dressed way too nice or I’d take my knife and stab her with it.”

He smirked. “You’re vicious when you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous. I just don’t like bad service.”

“Bullshit.”

“Billy, you’re hot. You know that. All the women here are checking you out. If I freaked out every time someone did that, I’d have a breakdown.”

He wanted to destroy the fucking world at the thought of someone even looking at you but apparently you were simply ambivalent about him. “So it’s that easy for you? Your brain tells you to turn off a feeling and your heart just does it?” Even to his own ears he sounded bitter. “Guess you’re not all that invested in me.”

Your eyebrow quirked up, apparently surprised by his edgy tone. “Do you want me to go nuts?”

“Just want you to give a damn.”

“You think I don’t?” you snapped. “Every time she looks at you I want to tear her hair out. Even though the rational part of me knows she’s probably just flirting with you because it’s part of her job or she’s hoping for big tips. Or maybe she really does want to fuck you. Either way, I want to punch her across the face. Happy?” You gulped down your wine.

Grinning, he squeezed your hand. “Then why not just tell me that? Why act like you don’t care?”

The agitated expression on your face was replaced with tenderness, your eyes soft. “Just because I don’t have a jealous fit doesn’t mean I don’t care. I just…” You exhaled a sigh, and he sensed this was difficult for you. “I express my emotions differently than you.”

“I noticed. You put on an act while holding everything in.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“But I want you, the real you, not the version everyone else sees.”

“It’s not that easy, Billy.”

He brought your palm to his lips. “I’d never told anyone about my mother.”

“You didn’t tell me either,” you pointed out.

“You found out anyway, and I’m so fucking glad you did. Otherwise I wouldn’t have realized I could be real with you.” He placed a tender kiss on your skin. “I don’t want to hide anything from you, Y/N.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Then tell me about William Rawlins.”

Your request gave him pause, his eyes roaming over your face. He’d taken painstaking measures to keep his partnership with Rawlins a secret yet you’d discovered it. “What do you want to know?”

“He gave you a lot of money.”

“I earned that money,” he said in a defensive tone. “He and I were partners for a while. Then he died.”

“You went to a lot of trouble to hide your connection to him.”

“You found out about it though.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I’m good at what I do.”

“Yeah, too good,” he muttered. He released your hand, watching you intently. “So what do you want to know?”

You leaned in closer, your voice barely above a whisper. He was momentarily distracted by the sensation of your tits pressed against him but he forced himself to concentrate.

“What happened to Rawlins, did you have anything to do with it?”

Billy took a swig of his wine. “Why do you think that?”

You quirked your eyebrow at him. “Knifed by someone in the parking lot. They never found the guy who did it.”

“He had a lot of enemies,” he pointed out.

“Okay, so maybe I was wrong.”

He studied you for several seconds, trying to decide if he should take the leap or not. “You’re not wrong.”

Realization dawned on your face as the truth set in. “Why did you do it?”

“You sure you want to know?”

“I’m asking, aren’t I?”

So he told you, about Operation Cerberus, his role in it and the money he earned, how he’d eliminated Rawlins a year ago when the prick plotted to take out Frank and his family. To this day Frank didn’t know about Billy’s partnership with Rawlins or how close he came to dying and he intended to keep it that way.

Throughout his confession his eyes were glued to your face, gauging your reactions. The part of him determined to do anything to be a success, the one who didn’t let society’s morals get in the way of his ambitions, would never be accepted by his closest friends. Despite the myriad of reasons to have kept that side of himself hidden, he didn’t want to do that with you. Because as risky as it was to be so open with you, it was also exhilarating. There was no one in this world he’d ever been this honest with and that kind of intense connection with you was addictive. He wanted you to know everything about him, all of the dark and vicious thoughts that ran through his head, the burning ambition that kept pushing him forward. He wanted you to know him inside and out and he wanted the same from you.

Before he could prod you to speak your mind the server came by with your dishes, setting your meals on the table. The redhead took her time, all the whilst your gaze was focused on the table, avoiding his. Billy’s heart started to pound in his chest, he was suddenly filled with doubt. Had he made a mistake in telling you the truth? Did he just completely fuck this up? Every second the goddamn redhead lingered at the table felt like an eternity when all he wanted was to shake you out of your stupor.

The second the server left, he moved in on you. “Are you gonna say something?”

You finally looked at him, your forehead burrowed. “We need to do a better job of hiding your history with Rawlins. I found it, that means someone else can too.”

“You gonna help me with that?”

You shook your head ‘yes’. “Yeah, I have to. You need me.”

“What I did doesn’t bother you?”

You exhaled a heavy sigh. “Of course it does, but there’s nothing I can do about it. You’ve seen me at my worst and you didn’t judge me. I won’t do that to you either. Besides, when the universe deals you a shitty hand you’ve got to find other ways to even out your odds.”

A strange feeling of warmth flooded over him, compelling him to angle forward and kiss you on the lips.

You pulled away a second later, smiling at him as you rubbed the corner of his mouth. “This lipstick isn’t kiss-proof.”

“I don’t care.” Wicked visions of you flashed through his mind. Your bold red lips wrapped around his cock, sucking him off the way he liked it. His cum spread over your tits, your neck, your lips. The taste of your sweet, delicious cunt on his tongue as he fucked you with his mouth. The heat of your tongue against his as he rammed into you over and over-

“Stop looking at me like that,” you warned.

“Then stop looking so hot,” he snarked.

You smiled, biting down on your bottom lip.

It blew his mind how sweet and shy you were when he paid you compliments, like you didn’t expect that from him. Obviously he needed to fix that, because you deserved to know how insanely beautiful you were all the time.

“Has Anvil been okay without Rawlins?” you asked, taking a bite out of your butternut squash ravioli.

Swallowing his steak, he wiped his mouth with a napkin. “It was tough for a while but we’ve been doing pretty well the last few months.”

“You should be proud of what you’ve accomplished, Billy. You took a big risk going into business for yourself and you made it work. That’s amazing. I could never do that.”

Billy’s insides radiated with happiness. Other than Curtis and Frank he never really had people who genuinely believed in him so to have you cheering him on was exalting. Especially considering you were great at what you did and he had so much respect for you.

He poured himself and you more wine before reaching for your hand again. “I think you could. You’d make a shitload of money if you freelanced.”

You shook your head ‘no’. “No way, I’m too much of a coward to take a risk like that.” You took a sip of your wine. “Plus I get to go to Paris for work.”

“Or you could go to Paris on vacation and not work.”

“Then I’d have to pay for it,” you pointed out, grinning. “When you grow up the way I did, you learn to appreciate free things.”

Your enthusiasm was infectious, he couldn’t hep but smile back. A part of him was hoping this would be the perfect opening for you to talk more about your childhood, about everything you went through, because he desperately wanted you to trust him as much as he trusted you with his secrets.

“I’ll be there for two weeks,” you continued, oblivious to his disappointment. “We’re going to scout out locations for the new branch and-”

“We?” Billy interjected.

You cast him a quick glance. “Roger’s coming with me on the trip.”

The jealousy that struck him felt like a swift kick to his gut. Images of you and that goddamn bastard traipsing around and enjoying romantic date nights in Paris assaulted his mind. Agitated, he pulled his hand from yours. “I bet that fucker can’t wait to be alone with you.”

“Billy, come on. You can’t be serious.”

“How would you feel if I took off with someone who wanted to fuck me?”

“First of all, he doesn’t want me.”

His jaw clenched with frustration as he glared at you. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He’s thought about fucking you.”

“Even if he does, I don’t want him.” You reached out to cup his face, your voice so soft and tender in your attempts to placate him that he momentarily forgot how upset he was. “You really think I’d jeopardize what we have for a fling with Roger? I wouldn’t do that.”

“Then don’t go. Turn him down.”

Irritation flickered over your face, he could tell you were done coddling him. “Billy, you have no right to ask me that. I’d never interfere with your work.”

Underneath all that jealousy he knew you were right. As much as he despised the idea of you going away to Paris with another guy, he couldn’t demand that you not go on work trips. If you did that to him, it would annoy the fuck out of him. Yet despite his rational side recognizing he was asking for too much, he couldn’t help but feel bitter. “That asshole’s gonna make a move on you, I know it.”

“What if he does? What do you think is gonna happen?”

Hs eyes met yours, urgently seeking some kind of validation from you. “You tell me.”

“Do you think I’m going to sleep with him?”

He flinched. “Don’t talk about fucking another guy, please. You’re gonna make me lose my appetite.”

You took his hand and placed it over your left breast, probably to distract him from all the disgusting images that were running through his brain. “I wanted you so badly and even then it took me like a month to fuck you. Trust me, I’m not going to sleep with him when I’m not even attracted to him.”

Spotting the earnestness in your eyes, the knot in his stomach finally loosened. Roger may have had a hard-on for you but Billy knew you felt nothing for the fucker. He’d noticed that even at the night of the gala. So that meant he had to trust you, there was no reason not to. “Call me every night when you’re there,” he grumbled.

“Every night? You’re probably going to start blocking my calls,” you laughed.

He booped your nose. “Every. Fucking. Night.”

You beamed. “Fine.” A wicked glint flashed in your eyes, a seductive smile on your lips as you slowly moved his hand lower, his fingers now on your nipple. “Hey, just ‘cause you’re not there with me doesn’t mean we can’t have fun.”

He stroked your nipple over the fabric of your dress, enjoying how the nub hardened under his touch, the way your breath hitched in your throat when he continued his ministrations. With his other hand he tucked your hair behind your ear, whispering to you. “Phone sex is alright, but nothing beats this.” His tongue curved along the shell of your ear, and you trembled against him. “Right?”

The waitress seemed to come out of nowhere this time to ask how your meals were, and you jumped back. Disappointed, he sighed.

“Food was great. Thank you,” you replied, smiling stiffly at the redhead.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“Privacy would be great,” Billy muttered.

You kicked him under the table. “Dessert menu?”

“Sure. I’ll bring it right over,” the waitress said, taking your plates away.

“I’ll give you all the sugar you want once we get outta here,” he murmured seductively, caressing your thigh.

You giggled, rolling your eyes. “That’s a terrible line!” You took his hand and removed it from your thigh. “Billy, I’m not sleeping with you tonight.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s our first date and I don’t put out on the first date.”

“Now that’s a terrible line,” he fired back, mimicking your earlier tone.

“Also, we already had sex this morning.”

“So? I’m greedy. I can’t get enough of you.” There was that shy smile of yours again, and he reached out to give you a sweet peck on the cheek. “You blush every time I tease you.”

“I do?”

“Yeah, it’s adorable.”

Your cheeks grew even more red. “I’m not used to it from you. A part of me still thinks you’re bullshitting me.”

Billy stiffened. “Really?”

“I know you’re not playing me,” you reassured. “It’s on me, not you. I just have a hard time accepting when good things happen.”

The waitress came by with the dessert menu. He briefly glanced at it before ordering a slice of pecan pie while you ordered a piece of chocolate cake.

As soon as the redhead left, he broached the topic with you again. “I’m not gonna hurt you, babe. You have to believe that.”

You didn’t look at him, your eyes fixed somewhere on his chest. “I do. You were so pissed off at me last night. I honestly expected you to hit me because you were so angry. But you didn’t.”

It made him sick to his stomach that you actually thought him capable of hitting you. It hadn’t even occurred to him that you would worry about that, but of course you would. With your childhood it made perfect sense, he was just a fucking idiot who hadn’t realized how much it still impacted you. “I’m never gonna lay a hand on you. I swear.” His eyes locked with yours, hoping you can sense how much he meant those words.

“I believe you.”

His voice was insistent, his gaze boring into you. “Why did you think I would?”

Your eyes wavered from his eyes to his lips for a long time, the atmosphere thick with tension. Your facial expressions ran the gamut of painful emotions, from uncertainty to fear to sheer panic.

It finally sank in that maybe the reason you were keeping the truth from him had noting to do with if you trusted him or not. Maybe you didn’t want to be assaulted by memories from the past that caused you so much pain. The last thing he wanted was for you to experience that hell again. Regretting his demanding tone, his hands caressed down the length of your arms. “You don’t have to tell me, It’s okay.”

Your eyes brimmed with aching vulnerability as you looked up at him. “I want to… I just… give me some time, okay?” You pressed your lips against his, giving him the softest, sweetest kiss. “I’ve been looking forward to tonight for so long, I don’t want to ruin it, you know?”

His heart felt full, his mind reeling with wonderment at the thought of you truly reciprocating his feelings. His arms wrapped around you as you sank into him, burying your face in his chest. His fingers stroked the back of your hair, murmuring soft, soothing words to you. Somewhere in the distance he heard the server’s voice trying to interject, but he didn’t give a damn. He was yours and you were his and nothing was going to ruin that. Nothing.

Part 18

A/N - I realize not much happened in this chapter but I just reallly wanted to write a dialogue heavy part where they simply get to know and enjoy each other. I think they’ve earned some fluff. LOL.

As always, thank you for your kind words of encouragement. Please let me know your thoughts.

Tumblr tag list:

@yourfavoritefruitybitch @voyevoda-thejoy @adreamemporium @queenmalhinewahine @gubleryum @galaxyjane @xceafh@maralisa124@tomhollandisabae @daybleedsintonightfa11 @lil-baby-nor @all-art-is-quite-useless @tanyaherondale @nashibirne @dour-trash @thetallassgirl @athenamikaelson @agent-jbarnes @primadonnasdream @aleksanderwh0r3 @elisemockingbird @nihilismworld @archisur@nemesis729 @lysawayne@kaqua @ladyblablabla @lemasonda@advictedtohim @24-martie @tarkanelima-blog @shinebrightlikeafanbase @krystal-clear1 @damalseer@dontjinx-it@darkishx @wanderlusting-about-life @thatguppienamedbae @happypepperdog @bat-revival @sassygirl25 @consulting–heroes @the-celestial-kitsune @mackaywhore @ablxssm @competitive-dust @red-head011 @exo-1204 @sunsetenigma @millieb-3199 @chatnain @licensedcheek @tinkertailor1212 @vertesalope @safetyhtom @acourtofglassandroses @eliwinchester-barnes @finnismyoriginalsin @weallhaveadestiny @beananacake @beauty-and-the-beast97 @smurfelle @fire-treasure-iii @charly-0 @kestrafagnor @pigwidgeonxo @damagelove @allegra-writes @pensandthings @jad3djay @batshitbarnes @kashimayuki @secretsthathauntus @odetostep @awesome-eccia @mackaywhore @stories-you-wont-hear @vvsdiamond28 @supernaturalcat7 @arieltwvdtohamflash @iknownoqueenbutthequeeninme @devs-stufff @ticosas @moodacheeks @myakai13 @carlywhomever @fvckthisbxtchup @its-evita-here @papapapadumb @talesfrommycell @bat-luna-cat @fific7 @elluvians @dailydoseofchoices @everythinghappens-love @papapapadumb @mylife-love-and-other-things @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @ancientbeing10 @natty2245 @stuckysavedmylive @kasslucilfer @simp-for-ben-barners @originaldeputycalzoneegg @bdffkierenwalker @kimoranelson03 @sadbi-hours @haushinka27 @haushinka27 @caylaxwrites @extraneousred @agentmstark @crazywitchkitty @its-an-idea-not-a-blog @partypoison00 @fictional-hooman @hoglady @helnicks @luckyfreakfishpeach @chiquitita18 @rachlovesactors @icecream50055 @doloreschanal @lupinsfavslytherin @swthxrry @wanderlusting-about-life @dreamer7black @leahnicole1219 @superawesomegeek @weallhaveadestiny @toxicenough @tiiffanym @dark-twisted-and-mechanical-mind @cap-just-said-language @edithsvoice @natashasilverfox

#billy russo x reader #billy russo #ben barnes #billy russo x you #the punisher #a woman scorned

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babyboibucky · 3 years ago

Text

Devil’s Mark: Lead Me Into Temptation

Pairing: CleanRockstar!Bucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your chose to give up everything to be with Bucky.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Knife play, carving, marking, blood (not period blood okay), tasting said blood, pain kink, oral sex (M receiving), face fucking, tea-bagging, thigh riding, toxic relationship obviously, bible references as usual

A/N: Like I said, this AU owns me??? Whenever new rockstar pics are released my brain instantly goes into a mayhem and I can’t NOT write shit based on those photos. Anyway, enjoy sinning in this one skskksks

Devil’s Mark Masterlist || MAIN MASTERLIST

You should have been ashamed at how quickly you decided to leave everything behind— your family, your work and your so-called friends, your beliefs and dignity.

All because of Bucky and you were not embarrassed by it. In fact, you were proud of it and you wore it like a badge of honor, quite literally actually. Bucky’s initials that were carved on your left collarbone never failed to remind you who you belong to.

You bled for it and went through the pain when Bucky pressed the tip of his knife onto your skin and used it to permanently mark you with his name. The pain was unlike any other but it was fucking worth it when Bucky rewarded you for being his good, little pet.

“You did so fucking good for me, munchkin.” Bucky cooed, sitting back and admiring his work.

The letters BB looked good on your skin, they were still red but written clearly enough for everyone to see. Tears continued to streak on your cheeks as you caught your breath, having to hold it in as you endured through the process of being marked.

“Aww, is my munchkin in pain?” he teased, wiping away your tears.

You shook your head, “I can take it.” you rasped out, sniffing and ignoring the burning sensation of the lacerations on your décolletage.

Bucky chuckled darkly and pressed a kiss on your neck, sucking your skin as his hand worked its way inside your skirt. His fingers tapped against the first mark he had given you while his mouth slid down to your throat.

“Such a good, little pet you are.” he hummed against your skin.

A combination of a gasp and a moan slipped past your lips when Bucky cupped your clothed cunt, pressing the pad of his palm against your already throbbing clit. He grunted in satisfaction when he felt how moist you had gotten.

Pulling back, Bucky looked at you with amusement. “Did the pain turn you on?” he asked.

You didn’t even know it was possible, you didn’t notice how damp it was between your legs until Bucky asked you about it. Not knowing what to say, you merely shrugged and bit your lip from embarrassment.

“Leave it to me to figure it out, munchkin.” Bucky said before bending down to lick at your fresh wound, humming at the tangy taste of your blood on his tongue.

The sting that you felt went straight to your core and left goosebumps all over your body. Hissing from both pain and pleasure, you threw your head back and found purchase on Bucky’s shoulders. It confused you at first, why the pain aroused you to the point of completely soaking your panties.

But when Bucky’s fingers began to rub your folds, you didn’t bother understanding your arousal anymore.

“Damn, didn’t expect for my munchkin to be a fuckin’ freak. You like it when it hurts, don’t you?” Bucky asked as he sat up straight.

His tongue and lips still had some of your blood, and the sight of Bucky wiping it with his thumb and sucking on it had you whimpering.

“I’m gonna have so much fun with you, munchkin.”

The day that Bucky marked you like that was the same day you had surrendered everything to him like he was a god. You never looked back since then, didn’t have an ounce of regret nor fear at what the future holds for you now that you were reeled into his world.

Everything about you changed— the way you dressed and presented yourself, your likes and dislikes. Bucky gloated at how much you willingly let him take control of you and your decisions.

You’d spent your entire life being constricted by so many rules that turned you into a person you never wanted to be in the first place. Don’t wear that, you look like a whore. Pray and repent for your sins every night, we don’t want a sinner in this family. Stay away from temptation, you don’t want to burn in hell.

It was ironic how you let the devil into your life but still got a glimpse of heaven.

A smirk tugged at your rouge-painted lips as you stared at your reflection in the mirror. You had never looked like yourself until now and you had Bucky to thank. He unraveled the truest version of you, helped you discover things you never knew you enjoyed, made you feel and bask in emotions you had suppressed for years.

Your finger traced the leather collar around your neck, something you considered a symbol of freedom rather than a restraint.

Bucky’s voice calling for you put an end to your pondering. Giving yourself one last look, you made sure to look your best before stepping out of the bathroom.

Your heels clacked as you walked into the bedroom of Bucky’s trailer, quickly catching his attention as he lounged on his bed in nothing but a pair of tight and stringed, leather shorts. His eyes darkened when he saw you, trapping his bottom lip in between his teeth as he got up to approach you.

A breath got caught in your throat when Bucky towered over you, his eyes scanning you from head to toe. You faltered under his predatory gaze and looked away, feeling bare and exposed because of the outfit he had asked you to wear: a black see through bralette, a matching thong and a pair of black stilettos. The collar he had given you was also attached to a belted chest harness that you had adjusted to accentuate your breasts.

“Fuck, knew my pet would look so damn good in that.” Bucky complimented, rubbing his stubbled chin as he took in your appearance.

He grabbed his silver chain from the bed and grunted when he heard your tiny gasp, loving how you got so fucking excited whenever he brought it out. Bucky smirked as he tipped your chin, thumbing your bottom lip and smearing your lipstick around.

“You wanna play, huh?” he asked before gently slapping the side of your breast.

You nodded enthusiastically, humming in excitement as Bucky continued to tease you. He clicked his tongue and took a step back, “Wanna hear my pet speak up.” he said.

“I wanna play, Bucky.” you immediately responded, looking at him with doe eyes and practically begging for him to leash you.

“That’s my pretty, lil’ munchkin.” Bucky praised, lifting your chin up so he could attach the chain onto the ring hanging at the middle of your collar.

Bucky caught you off guard when he harshly tagged on the chain, bringing you down onto your knees with a loud thud. His leather shorts already had a tent and the sight of Bucky’s thick, tattooed thighs instantly made you wet.

“Untie the strings, munchkin.” Bucky said, his hand still holding the chain while his other caressed your hair.

You lifted your hands up but they were quickly swatted away. When you looked at Bucky, he was grinning at you mischievously, “Use your mouth.” he said.

Gripping his thighs for leverage, you leaned forward and bit the edge of the string and pulled at it. You used your tongue and hooked it under the strings, lifting it up until it was loose. Bucky groaned at the sight of you on your knees, obeying his every command.

“You can use your hands now, munchkin. You’ve been such a good girl, go ahead and suck my cock. It’s all yours.” Bucky urged, exhaling through his nose when you didn’t waste any time and pulled his shorts down.

Spitting on the tip of his cock, you watched your saliva drip down to the shaft before licking the underside. You traced the prominent vein with your tongue, batting your eyelashes at Bucky whose mouth dropped open when you took his head into your mouth.

“Oh fuck, shit.” he hissed, scrunching his face in pleasure when you added your hand into the mix to fondle his balls.

“God, munchkin. You’re a fuckin’ sinner.” he breathily chuckled, gathering your hair behind your head into a ponytail.

“You gonna let me fuck your mouth?” he asked, moving his hips away from your lips.

Bucky snickered when your head followed his hips, not wanting to let go of his cock that was throbbing inside your mouth. He gripped your hair tight and yanked your head back until his cock slipped out and slapped against his abdomen. Your spit mixed with his pre-cum forming a string that connected the tip of his dick to your lips. Bucky tugged your head further away until your spit landed onto your chin and neck, dribbling down to coat his now fully-healed initials on your collarbone.

“How d’you want me to fuck your mouth, munchkin?” he asked, keeping his grip on your hair tight and painful.

“Fast, please.” you breathed out, licking your lips as you stared at his weeping, hard cock.

“Yeah, you want me to use your mouth and make myself cum?” he asked again.

You weren’t even finished nodding your head when Bucky pulled your face back down to his crotch. Your jaw ached when you opened your mouth wide, welcoming his cock back into your mouth until the tip hit the back of your throat.

Choking on his dick, your fingernails dug into Bucky’s thighs, creating dents that were easily hidden beneath his tattoos. Your eyes watered when Bucky held you in place for a few seconds before finally beginning to thrust his hips.

Wet, gaging sounds and Bucky’s moans filled the air as he fucked your mouth roughly. Saliva began to spill out from the corners of your mouth, dripping down to your chin and then the floor beneath you. Your tears escaped from your eyes and messed up your make-up, your mascara running down your cheeks, painting it a dark grey and mixing together with the smeared lipstick around your mouth.

“So fucking greedy for my cock, you’re such a slut.” Bucky grunted as he continued to fuck your face, ignoring the way your nostrils flared whenever you attempted to breathe through your nose. You blinked the tears away when you felt Bucky’s cock pulsate inside your mouth. The way his hips stuttered was a sign that he was close, and knowing how Bucky wanted to finish, you tugged his wrists away from your hair and started bobbing your head as you sucked him harder.

“Get under, I want to see my cum all over your innocent face.” Bucky demanded and began fisting his cock as you licked and sucked his balls.

You kept your eyes on Bucky the entire time, just waiting for him to make a mess on your face. The look of pleasure on his face always did it for you, always made you soak and drip for him. The fact that it was you making him feel this way, it gave you a sense of fulfillment. His brows would furrow, his nose would scrunch up and he would snarl and growl at you whenever he was close to his climax.

You loved it, loved seeing a man like him lose himself in you and on you.

“Yes, fuck!” Bucky groaned, taking a step back before aiming his cock onto your face, spurting his release all over you.

“Stick your tongue out, munchkin...yeah, fuck. Just like that, good girl.” he whispered, jerking his cock and letting more of his cum land on your tongue.

Bucky pulled his shorts back up and sat down on the foot of the bed, grabbing his phone and then opening the camera app. Like his good pet, you remained on your knees and didn’t bother cleaning up your face.

“C’mere, munchkin.” Bucky softly said, taking the chain in his hand as he watched you crawl towards here.

“Let me take a photo of you, fuck. You look so damn pretty like that, all fucked up and dirty. What a whore.” he chuckled and gripped your face in one hand, angling your face before snapping a couple of photos.

He threw his phone aside and leaned back, gazing at you with a satisfied smile. You returned the smile and started wiping your face with both your hands, gathering all his cum before bringing it into your mouth without breaking your eye contact with Bucky.

You sucked your fingers clean before proceeding to lick your palms, humming at the taste of Bucky.

You used to be an angel, such a pure soul but all that purity flew right out of the window when you met him. Now, your wings have been cut off and that landed you straight onto the devil’s lap.

“You really know how to make me happy, munchkin.” Bucky praised. “I knew it was right to keep you.” he added, tipping his head at you.

“Come, munchkin. Gotta reward you for being an obedient pet, of course. Why don’t you sit that pretty pussy on my thigh, rub yourself on me. Make that pussy purr.” he said, patting his thigh.

You crawled closer to him and held onto his knees as you stood up. You slightly winced in pain, your knees were red and bruised from being on the ground. Bucky gripped your leash and tugged on it, pulling you down until his thigh was slotted in between your legs.

A moan slipped past your swollen lips when your clothed cunt pressed against Bucky’s thigh. He laughed when he felt how fucking wet you were, your juices immediately soaking his skin, making his tattoo glisten with it.

“Ride my thigh, go ahead. Cum whenever you want.” he said.

You did as you were told and started moving your hips back and forth, moaning wantonly at the friction. You didn’t bother removing your thong, you were too aroused to do that. The throbbing in your pussy only grew with every movement, creating a delicious coil in your abdomen.

Bucky’s eyes kept on moving from your face to your pussy, watching you proudly as you tried to get yourself off. Your breasts bounced with emphasis thanks to the harness and your nipples were pebbled against the sheer fabric of your bralette.

“Bucky…” you whimpered, holding onto his shoulders as you quickened your pace— back and forth, back and forth, side to side.

Your juices were dripping down already, creating a vulgar, squelching sound whenever you moved. The hairs on Bucky’s thigh were also adding to your pleasure, allowing you to come closer and closer to your end.

“Yeah, you gonna cum? Cumming already, munchkin?” Bucky teased, yanking your leash to bring your lips down to his.

He licked your parted mouth before biting your lower lip, tugging at it until it bled. Bucky sucked on your lip before kissing you messily. You moaned into his mouth when you tasted your blood; it quickly mixed with Bucky’s release, creating a unique flavor that had your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“Gonna cum, Bucky.” you whined, moving your hips faster and rougher against his thigh.

“Go on, munchkin. Give it to me, soak my fuckin’ thigh with your cream. C’mon.” he growled as he pinched your nipple.

The pressure in your abdomen exploded and made your entire body buzz from immense pleasure as you came. Electricity ran through your veins, starting from your fingertips down to your toes as they curled. Wetness gushed out of your sopping cunt, completely soaking Bucky’s thighs and the bedsheets beneath.

Your high-pitched moan was like music to Bucky’s ears; his smile was from ear to ear as he watched you get lost in your pleasure, your head tilted back as your nails left scratches on his shoulders down to his chest.

“That’s it, munchkin. Look at this mess…” Bucky pointed out, looking at his drenched thigh and your ruined thong.

Your chest continued to heave as you caught your breath, your eyelids fluttering from mere exhaustion. Bucky started pressing light kisses on your chest, throat and jaw while his hands began to caress the sides of your thighs.

Bucky’s praises and sweet words were your gospel, his grunts were your choir.

And you? Your body was his temple.

“You know I’d fuck you until you were dumb, but I got a concert.” Bucky sighed, helping you get off from his thigh.

“You wanna come and watch?” he asked.

The way his eyes narrowed at you was meaningful, you knew that Bucky was up to something. Whatever it was that he had in mind, you always looked forward to it.

You nodded in response, “I’ll go get changed.” you said and was about to walk away until Bucky grabbed your leash again, stopping you from doing so.

He tutted as he pulled you close, not caring whether you stumbled on your feet. Bucky caressed your face and fixed your hair, tucking a strand behind your ear before winking at you.

“I didn’t tell you to get changed, munchkin.” he said, lifting a brow at you.

“How ‘bout I take you out on a walk?”

Bucky could take you anywhere and you’d let him. Hell, he could keep you leashed and you wouldn’t even bat an eye. Truth was, Bucky could lead you anywhere he wants and you would follow him like a loyal disciple.

He had already led you into temptation, you might as well follow him to the pits of hell.

#bbb writes #devil's mark #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes smut #bucky smut #fem!reader #sebastian stan

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toomanyrobins2 · 3 years ago

Text

sweeter than honey pt. 15

Summary: Y/N “Honey” Cirillo has been many things in her short life: an unwanted child, a dancing prodigy, a teen mom, and now she’s a replacement bride. After her sister runs away, Y/N is forced to take her place and marry into the Barton family. The Three Families are already dealing with enough. With the murder of a high-ranking member and HYDRA continuing to make threats, they need this marriage to go ahead without a hitch. Can Clint and Y/n find happiness or is there too much against them?

Pairing: Clint Barton x Reader

Content warning: Arranged marriage, sex, violence, murder

Notes: I'm sorry this has taken so long, but I'm really struggling with direction I want to take this story. I have a place where I want this overall series to end but I feel like I have lost momentum in Clint's story a bit. I had hoped this time off would give me some clarity but unfortunately it has not. I am torn between whether I change the plot of this story somewhat and repost the chapters or if i keep pushing onwards and hope inspiration strikes. If I choose to do the first option, I will make sure to have multiple parts published at once so that you won't have to wait for each chapter again. Please let me know what you think!

series masterlist // next part

Y/N had just sent Nola, who still wasn’t speaking to her, off to school with her protective detail when there was a knock on the front door. She was surprised to see Nat waiting for her and her entire body tensed, “Why are you here?”

“Manners, Honey!” The redhead breezed past her into the house, “We have a lot to talk about.” Y/N just closed the door and followed her. “So, want to tell me anything?”

“I’m not going to shit talk your best friend just because he’s an idiot.”

The redhead whirled around, “Wait, what?”

“You’re not here because Clint left?”

“Yeah, I know he’s not here. He’s at the office.”

Y/N nodded sadly, “So, that’s where he’s hiding out.”

“I was going to talk about your sister. What the fuck did Clint do?”

“He—um—well—I think we’ve decided to take some time apart.”

“You’ve decided to separate?” Nat raised an unimpressed eyebrow at Y/N, “And who’s bright idea was this?”

She traced a pattern with her fingertip on the country, “It was mutual.”

“Honey, don’t lie to me. I know liars and you are a piss-poor one.”

“Okay, fine! He learned some things and has decided that he no longer wants to stay here or talk my calls or even say goodnight to Nola. I didn’t even know where he was.”

“What a way to tell me nothing with a lot of words. I was going to ask you about why the fuck your sister is back in town and why there’s rumors that she’s been involved with HYDRA!”

Why did the universe hate her? “Oh, that…”

“Yeah, that! Y/N, what is going on?”

“Too much,” she sunk onto the floor, “The answer is too much and I only have myself to blame.”

“Why? Why would he be so stupid!”

“Because my father blackmailed me into marrying him and it turns out that he has had some moral issues with me lying to him since the moment we married and I imagine it’s hard to want to be married to someone knowing this.”

Nat crouched down beside her, “God, Honey, I do not envy you and all of this.” Her phone beeped, drawing her attention and her fingers flew across the screen as she sent a message back.

A few floors down, a group had just burst into Clint’s office. Steve spoke first, “You left Y/N? Why would you do that?”

He lifted his head off the couch he’d be stretched out on, “How did you find out?”

“Because of Birdie, who heard from Nat. She texted me all pissed off because apparently your wife is just hiding upstairs from the world. I have an angry, pregnant wife who I’m ready to release on you if you don’t fix this shit.”

“She was upset?”

“Of course, she’s upset, you idiot! She loves you and you love her and your response is to leave? I should let the women kick your ass.”

Clint groaned in frustration, “She only married me because her father blackmailed her. Which reminds me…add that asshole to the growing list I need to kill.”

Steve looked at the others in the group with a confused look in his face,“And?”

“That’s a pretty big AND!” Clint sat up and buried his face in his hand with a groan

Steve sat down in one of the seats across from Clint, elbows on his knees, “Anyone with eyes can see that you are a happily married couple, despite the fact that you are both emotionally constipated. Did you ever consider that maybe amongst all of the attempts of her life, Honey may have been a little distracted and worried that if she did share something exactly like this would happen?”

Clint was still laying on the couch in his office, a drink dangling from his fingers. A soft knock had him reaching for the gun taped to the bottom of the furniture, but his mom’s face stopped him. She smiled softly and lifted his legs before sitting on the couch, squeezing his shin, “You know I still turn over every morning expecting your dad to be there? For a brief second in the mornings, the love of my life isn’t gone. It’s the same way I can still hear you and Barney running down the halls laughing,” Her eyes shone with unshed tears, “Yes, we loved each other but that’s not to say that we did not have our problems. Do not let this, all of this stop you from loving Y/N. You don’t know how long you’ll have and it will never be enough,” Edith wiped away the tears before they spilled and smiled up at her son, “Don’t let your anger rule you. Take every second you can get.“

“Ma...”

“Forgive her for not telling you and forgive yourself for the mistakes that led to this point.”

“I don’t know how.”

“You can start by stopping her from packing her thing.”

“What are you talking about?”

“She was packing a bag.” Before she could say anything else, Clint was off the couch and Edith fell back against the cushions. She picked his drink from where he left it, a mischievous grin on her face.

He raced up the stairs and burst into their suite and then their bedroom. He pulled the clothes out of her bag and tossed it on the floor, “You can’t leave. I won’t let you.”

Y/N looked at him wide eyes, “But—“

“No! I won’t let this be the way it goes. I lived life without you for the past few days and it was awful. Even when I was angry with you, I missed you.”

Y/N looked confused, her head bobbing between the pile of clothes on the floor and Clint, “I—I think I’m a little confused.”

“What was confusing about what I just said?”

“No, I understood that. I’m confused about where you think I’m going.”

“Ma said you were packing to leave.”

“Yeah...for Nola. Tony set it up so that she could have a sleepover here with Jackie and Andi. She’s really mad about this whole thing and I thought it might smooth things over to give her a break, “she seemed to finally realize all of what Clint had said, “Wait! Are you just saying this because you thought I was leaving for good?”

Clint sat on the bed and pulled Y/N so that she was standing between his legs “Yes and no. Thinking you were leaving was the push. Well actually, Ma was the push.”

She tried to walk away but he kept a firm grip of her legs as she stared down at him, “I don’t know how we do this.”

“Well you’ve got a mom…my mom who loves you like her own. You got a whole bunch of mobsters who also love you and would kill for you. Yeah, your parents suck but I’ve got a family who want you and Nola. You’ve got me who also loves you.”

Y/N froze, “What did you say?”

Clint pauses, “Your parents suck. I’m not gonna apologize for saying it.”

“No, the other thing!”

“You’ve got a family who loves and wants you.” She stomped her foot and he couldn’t help but laugh at her little tantrum. Clint stood up and walked forwards as Y/N matched his steps back until she hit the wall, “And you’ve got me. And I love you.”

“You don’t love me! You left me after I got shot!”

“Well, that’s where I’m kind of an idiot.”

“A huge idiot.”

“An idiot who loves you,” he swooped down to kiss her, “And would really like to stay married to my wife.”

Punching him lightly in the chest, Y/N looked up at Clint, “I’ll be your wife…you just gotta be less stupid. And I require one date night a week. That’s non-negotiable.”

“I think I can manage that,” he kissed her forehead, “And we are going to have to talk about that little visit from your sister at some point.”

Y/N shushed him, “Don’t ruin the moment.”

SWEETER THAN HONEY TAGLIST

@mycosmicparadise

@marvelofwitch

@redhairedfeistynerd

@buckys-left-middle-finger

@majo240820

@xcharlottemikaelsonx

@star017

@boisewaffles

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