#stumbles backwards and falls on his ass. he’s so sure it’ll bruise but he’s too busy laughing to care. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

butterfliesinmyguts · 4 years ago

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rest easy

summary: you save guts

warning: blood and violence( its berserk), virgin reader, angst, and smut

your days were spent alone, only few a visitors pass by your cottage mostly lost travelers. you tended to your farm, horse, and went into the village every once in a while to gather supplies but it was unsafe now and days. you couldn’t ever get visitors.

on this night, you were heading back from the village deciding to take a short cut threw the forest as the rain started to slowly fall. your boots helped against the mud and you applaud yourself for not wearing a dress. pulling your hood over you head your pressed on, as the rain pour even more.

thunder clapped along the sky and it was getting a little harder to see the trail. stop for a second you leaned brush the mud of the rocks to see it was straight for here to your cottage.

wiping off the mud on a branch, while your ears filled with a loud roar. your eyes widen, as your feet dragged you towards it. groans and loud cracking echo there the forest. maybe someone hurt, something clicked in you. who ever it was they need help.

“ who goes there!” you shouted, a sorry attempt to place fear in the sound you feared.

“ ugrhhhhhhhh!” the creature howled, your body frozen in pure terror. the things body was blob with a a abnormal human body attach like .. like it was it face but the eyes were above the body, I grew nauseous.

the tall creature eyes were fixed on a wounded man who was on laying against the dirt “ silly of you to think you could win!” his hand pressed on his lower stomach, looking at the mans face he had no far just a blank expression with blood and dirt covering his tight chin.

as the creature slowly approached him- i thought quickly- I had to do something , I couldn’t just stand by and watch this happen. bending down patting the soggy ground not letting my eyes of the monster as my fingers tips grabbed a hand full of rocks. I knew for sure if chucked the matter at the dam thing and stayed where I was creature it quickly find me in tear me apart, I had to be smart about this.

the man body was inches away from a large tree, if I could throw the rocks and make it over there before the rocks hit the creature body i could survive. convenicing myself I watched the man turn looking over at this huge blade his face contorted yet focus on the object- what is hold did that have to him?

as the creature stood closer to him - your hand fling the rocks at the things whist your feet twisted to keep from slip it lead you to make a break behind the tree and then infront of the man. “ are you okay?” drop your knees to the wet ground your eyes wondered the mans body as he looked surprised at your presences, the man was handsome to say the least, he would have saw the warm tint of cheeks if it wasn’t for the cold rain.

my questions were answers his palm lifted slightly of the wound to display blood. he had a deep gush, pushing back his hand applied pressure again as I turned.

a loud screech rumble through the forest followed by thunder as the creature turned in angry crawling towards were I just left trying to find out we’re the rocks came from- he tore through the trees- I eyeballed the thing. that could of be you. the monster was extremely strong, this would be your only time to put it down.

the man notice you as cover his body was yours, the smell of blood and sweat made way through your norstils as his filled with lavender and mint, the man behind whined in pain as he tried pushing himself up guts knew he had to do. you rejected his actions slowly pushing him down but his shoulders. the man watched you perplexed, what is she doing?“ I’ll protect you I promise...” his eyes widen as your trembling begun searching around as you found a long sword the he was looking at it.

weakly you stood up with the sword in hand, stepping back you sunk you heel in the ground pulling the blade up. you grunted as result, finally getting a good grip you aimmed behind the creature as he still tore. the man watched you in awh as he question who you are, you had to be lms of the kingdom swordsman but he hadn’t seen you before.

the heavy sword pulling you down, but you refused to let you go. the man cough concern you leading to the turning of your head“ please I ...” sniffing he picked his head up “ I’ve got this run fast..” shaking your head no at the man. You had to protect him, that was what you said you had to stay true to your word.

finally your arms got used to the weight blade, You knew it wouldn’t be long before your muscle give out so you aimmed toward the distracted creature. “ AHHHH” you cried charging toward the thing who finally turning to you but it was too late.

stabbing the creature, “ you bitch!” it spat at you, cover your body with blood in. throwing your head back in disgust you shoved the blade all the way through letting go finally killing the thing as you fell on your knees to the ground.

turning to the man, he was stunned, pushing his body against the tree to push himself up. he was surprise that you could even lift his sword but killing the dam thing! out of the question.

picking herself up of the ground, he watched her run towards him. the women was beautiful, her shirt ripped and her face covered in dripping blood- but still wore the look of worry on her face. “ let me help you, my home is just this way...” nodding she allowed him to leaned my body against hers.

“wait...” guts breathe as he bent down pulling the blade with ease out of the creatures body placing the sword on his back.

leaning against the woman he realized he hasn’t even said his name, “guts..” his deep voice vibrated. you looked up towards the man, “ my name is guts, yours?” he claimed as you both finally step into a clearing leaving the dark forest. the women lead guts toward her home replying with “y/n, it’s nice to meet you.” the rain finally slowly down only drizzling on the top of you.

walking through the opening of glossy grass a small cottage was pointed out by the bright moonlight. “thank you for that..”

“ that? I saved your ass..” guts hands held her sides letting a nice squeeze to them almost making her laugh. “ thank you for saving my ass”

you were extremely proud of yourself, when you were younger your brothers taught you how to wield a sword and fight to defend yourself.

leading guts in you, you placed him on the ground on one of the rugs you just finished. now it’ll be covered in blood but you had no worries about that. getting up you ran to the outside getting a bucket of water and placing it on the fire place. grabbing your clothes and sewing kit.

guts groaned a bit, as he discarded his armor. rushing to his side you begun to clean him off and sewing him up. guts watched you tend to his wounds, you made sure to take care of injured spot.

he knew there was only so much you could do but he’d appreciated everything you did. finish your sewing, you patted him off with the warm towel. y/n knew one of his ribs were at least cracked due to the bruising, but guts still moved around like it was nothing lifting him self up and everything. this told you that it wasn’t his first time fight against something like this.

“ thank you...” nodding standing up stretching your limbs. turning you looked out your window the rain finally stop, but you finally saw your reflection of dirt and dried blood on you body. you need to clean yourself, “ you can lay your head here tonight...” a smirked played on his lips, realizing how forward and a bit inappropriate that sounded you stumbled saying“ o..oh only if you like” guts rose towering over you, finally getting a good look at him. his was extremely ripped, raven colored hair laid against his scalp and presence made you feel like a was a teenage girl with a crush. guts was nothing but handsome.

you didn’t realize his stare towards you as your eyes wonder his body, you stumbled backwards tripping over bunched up rug. Guts didn’t let you let you fall, as you as met his watching him warp his arms around you- hands planted flat against your back . the corners of his mouth quirked up as his eyes instantly fell to your lips, “ don’t fall” he murmured. breathing out, you pulled back nodding and apologizing.

Guts smiled at the fact that he made your this flustered, you turned grabbing a towel. “ I’m going to bathe, I’ll make you one too... please ea-t your welcome to anything...”

you wondered off, as he dropped his things, looking around your cottage it was full of greerny, candles all around lit the room but the large arch window allow the moonlight to shine in, and your bedroom was on top of garret with only could be reached by a ladder.

you had rugs over the wooden floor and paintings that covering the wall with some unfinished, is this how you made your money? leaning on the window seal he saw your crops. how could so much be done by one person, and from the looks of it she lives all alone. turning he say a sliver man armor in the corner, mhm maybe she doesn’t.

after eating most of your bread and fruit you had out- gut heard you called out and told him the bathe was filled again letting him know you were all done. you opposed no threat, not one at all. you laid your life down for him, it made him fair you even than your stunning looks. he felt comfortable around you-you risk your life for him.

guts watched from the door frames as you tended to your night gown in the mirror, you looked beautiful.

“I’m here..” guts broed body stepped into the wash room- you had on a dress with a loose corset bra on, you skin was glowing in the candle lit room. “already for ya...” you watched as guts go towards the bath as the steam from the bath covered the room, pulling down his pants down you turned your body. does this man have no shame? closing your eyes you hand gripped the door knob, “my apologies, I’ll leave y-“

quickly silencing her guts look behind him to you, “ I’ll need help, do ya mind?” he watch you slowly opening your eyes to him, you quickly nodded. making your way to find a small towel and pulled the stool behind him.

guts placed his feet in the wooden tub trying to get used to the warm water as he slowly set, you turned away you waited until his lower was in the water as guts let out a sigh.

your eyes studied his scar fulled back. your fingers tips traced them, getting lost in them it was almost like a puzzle. guts felt your innocent touches and relaxed, letting his head fell between his shoulders. “ so is there another bed?” shaking your head gaining focus again grabbing the towel, “ no, I stay alone I hope you don’t mind sharing..” your heart skipped a beat at the thought of the warm feeling of other by your side. “no I was confused on if you laid alone...”

blushing a bit you, started washing back and then turning to face him to wash his chest with warm towel. guts observed you again as focus deeply on your task at hand. biting your lips you spoke again “ my brother died two winters ago, so I keep to myself..”

that answer his question, “ I’m sorry fo-“ her finger hushed him while she placed the on his lips, “ don’t apologize...” you said seriously- all guts could do nodded, as she started at his neck with the cloth. “you just getting to know me, what about you? “

guts felt warm, staring at you he spoke with a “complicated “ looking at him for a moment until you could help but to bust out in laughter. guts rolled his eyes, “what?” you sighed, “ you were so serious you just look a little funny”

guts watched her giggled to herself, at least she didn’t beg on. compared to others she’s seen way more, and she’s calm. y/n is laughing, watching her eyes closed and she talked about how she planned on cleaning the blood stained rug and went on about the monster outside and how heavy my sword was. “ you know I could have saved myself?” guts looked up, making her roll her eyes. “ then clean your own body baby..” she sit up beginning to walked away.

“Ah!” guts gasped as you turned back to him in worry, “did a cut open?”she leaned in and earned as splash of water on her, “ hey!” she questioned guts, “ you just looked funny”

after guts finished you give him some dry clothes with a cup of tea. you give him an explanation about the crops, “I wake up everyday at five in the morning...” that was crazy to him. you guys climbed up into you bed, guts set up looking out the window.

resting your head on the pillow you watched him. guts was tense, like he was worried. reach out for his hand he flinched. confirming your thoughts, his eyes watched you as your hand pulled him down to you. “ I promise your safe here...”

guts watched you, letting his head finally rest. after what it felt like years. eyes watching you, brush his hair from his eyes. “ you don’t have to worry..” giving him a hazy smile. guts heart throbbed pulling you into him.

for a moment you let your eyes fall and pressed deeper into him. savoring this moment, chest pressed together guts felt your heartbeat. it was a slow thump, letting him know you were relaxed. his hand smoothed along your curves petting you.

you body buzzed, while your palms instinctively went behind his neck. grabbing your waist he pulled you closer to him, I moan slipped pass you lips. you’ve never had this happen, guts watched you as his hips grinded against yours. your eye closed and mouth ajar along his lips in pure pleasure that you’ve never felt before. thinking of the times you rocked against your pillow, having his hands and the musk of him around your was completely different. guts lips touch your cheek as you quickly pulled back.

guts confused and extremely turned on by the sounds you made in his ear- glazed at your in worry. “ I’m sorrry..” you mumbled holding yourself, you felt almost embarrassed and weak. you haven’t been-

“ no one ever made me feel like this before..” looking guts eye widen.“ it’s your first time?” he asked you, you didn’t want to answer but guts could see in your movements, your were awkwardly nervous, and your corset squeeze against your chest due to your tight breathe.

guts eyes darted to your bust, licking his lips. He thought about this situation in front of him, slowly guts arms found your hips pulling you on top of him.

your hands laid flat again this chest looking down, you didn’t know how to feel nor what to do. guts stared watching your lips quiver, his fingers worked on your the strings on your back with eventually let your top fall.

his hands discarded it as he planted soft kisses on your skin. leading up to your lips, starting off soft you two made out until you craved more. lifting your hips up and sitting them down on his.

guts large hands reached under your dress to your bare soft thighs. squeezing them you bounced, pulling away to look down. “ I wanna- ah- watch ” your hands swiftly bunched up your skirt at your waist making guts smile. As his this slowly brushed past your heat, “ that fe-ahh so good” you moaned resting your head on his shoulder.

guts cock throb, stunned from the words that just left your mouth. pushing deeper gut thumb became cover in your juices, you were dripping for him. “ oh guts!” you moaned into his ear, his thumb continue to move against your ball of nerves as his finger starting pushing against your opening.

gasping your pulled back a little, guts hand kept you still and held you there. you never felt that pressure before and it sting a little, “ sorry it just came as a surprise..” guts nodded, pressing is lips against yours again, His thumb so moved against you as your lips molded together- he pulled back breathless “ we don’t have rush okay?”

desperate for his lips again you moved again them, nodding not even needing to convince yourself. guts slowly pushed his finger inside you, hearing the slick sounds as he twist and turn his finger made it hard to go move against his finger. a loud moan left lips, while you held on top him tight.

you never wanted this to stop, laying you down softly as his hand on your back went to soothe the warmth on your cheeks, you were expose to him.

guts took your beautiful body in, as his hands showed appreciation to every part of your body. his lips kisses you stomach and then your hips. making his way to your breast that he knead, earning a moan from him, squeezing your legs against his body he felt his member jump.

guts faced you, “ this is an honor...” kissing you again, you feel him pushing into you. your lips part opening up more as he sucked on your bottom lip. his large hands held you thighs as the burning slowly went away, as guts groaned started to rock move his waist as yours.

You gasped in astonishment pawing at guts back. guts drive into you, your left perfect around him. your pussy hugged him tighter than ever, begging - pleading for more of him.

his was in a complete trance by y/n, your moans were music to his ears “ oh guts!” only pressed him to want more of you.

you had mixed emotions, you told yourself that you would never marry off to keep your family name. So expected to never have this intimate moment with anyone, to never experience this moment . but now that you are it felt so right and you never wanted to stop.

“ holy shit your tight..” lips roughly pressed at your skin, you were in heaven. your body felt so good, placing your hands on his sides you dug your nails in pleading for him to go faster.

“ ugh! “ your legs wrapped around his body pulling him deeper inside of you awakening a bundle of ecstasy. guts saw you were a messy, words left your mouth in pants as you body shaked. flickering down to his cock he saw you milking him, you were experiencing your first orgasm and it was all from him.

lips falling on your neck, he drove deeper insane you wanting more as your hands gripped his hair. “ oh god!” you were in a frenzy, a guts frenzy.

pulling back guts watch you release for him, his hands clenched the sheet to hold his in. the site of you, was just enough for him.

as soon as you notice guts stop his movements you hips rode against earning a deep sigh from him. “ more!” you cried, guts gocked letting his head fall, as you pushed him deeper. You were so desperate for him, you were intoxicated by him. kissing him more your felt a spark, tingle your lips as guts pulled away groaning.

“ahh y/n fuck!” guts cried releasing inside you as he buried his inside you making you whimper in his ear, hold his head in your arms. guts screwed up his face, thrust more inside you. his cum all going deeper in you, as your pushed his hair out of his face.

kissing you deeper, you both felt enchanted by each other by each other, panting into each other guts gazed at you telling you that your amazing making you feel all warm inside.

laying his head on your bare chest he fell into a deep well needed sleep. your fingers ran through his hair as you replayed the recently events.

as the morning came you routine begun, guts still sound asleep- well not sound you could hear his snores even as you tended to your crop. you took it upon yourself to pack him fruits and berries in around cloth that smelt just like you.

fixing yourself, you changed into a dress passing your ankles. your corset tight, as you heard a stir. looking up upon your loft guts body was cleaved, his abs laided tight on his chest as he rubbed his eyes sleepily. looking down on your he almost gasped, you were breath taking as you smiled at him.

you were glowing, slowly climbing up the ladder Sitting on your knees in front of him. “good morning sleeping beauty..” chuckling he connected your lips, as your hand placed on his shoulder pulling of with a smile.

guts fingers found your hair twirling around his fingers, “ when do you plan on heading off?” guts smirked placing his hand behind your neck using his thumb to rub your temple. his lips take hold of you again while you threw you on top of him.

your lips dancing together as you playful caressed his body. guts hips pushed against you making you pulling back to lean up. “ what are you doing?” his snaked up to your hips as he slowly brushed his cock against you. eyes fluttering as you whimpered. guts smiled, flipping you over so he was on top. placing your hands on his chest, your face turned to the side.

did I do something wrong, guts eyebrow quirked as he turned down. “ we can’t do this right now, we gotta get you all packed..” as you continued to rumble you tried to ignore how guts kissed trail lower and lower down your body- his hands push your dress up as he placed a kiss on your heat. “so much to d - ah guts !”

after loud screams and heavy rocking for half of the day guts smiled at you, lips parted and eyes closed. brushing your cheeks he was enchanted by you.

guts had to get back, it’s been weeks since he’s been home. come to think of it, he’s never seen this place. a clear meadow and even this cottage, he always takes this way home. plus why didn’t anything attack this place last night? that was the first quiet night guts. you eyes opened, smile beaming at him.

“ let’s get you going before sunset..” nodding slowly while she peck his lips and stood up to fix herself. guts found his items neatly cleans and organized, while he dressed himself you handed him a bag with food.

he sighed grabbing his things walking with him in silence until you reach the middle of your meadow. turning to you guys frown a bit. hand on his cheek you smiled towards him, “ don’t forget about me..” shaking his head no, never. you nodded in response.

“ thank you, I owe you one..”

“you owe me a lot...” guts smirked played along his rough face, “ I’m in debt eternally...” the wind swayed the grass along both of your feet’s. it was finally quiet for once. guts two fingers hooked under your chin pulling your closer.

his face studied yours, he found you almost angelic. guts couldn’t believe he just had stumbled upon something so mesmerizing. pressing his lips against yours one last time, pulling away leaving you purely enchanted.

guts swore he’d come back to you but when he came back he couldn’t find you. guts found the clearing, but there was no cottage not crops no trace of nothing like it was never there- like she was never there.

author notes:

I just started berserk and I’m falling deeply in love with the it.

* proofing reading in progress *

#berserk #gutsxreader #berserk smut #berserk imagine #berserk icons #gutssmut

164 notes · View notes

hansols-yoda-boxers · 3 years ago

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Camp North Star - July 2nd

AFAB!Reader x Ko Shinwon

Word count: 3330

Contents: sub!Shinwon, dom!Reader, fingering, some dry humping, oral (reader receiving), slight handjob, protected sex

“Well this is a lame attempt,” Shinwon laughed. You looked up from where you sat on his bed. His locked box of snacks sat in front of you and you hadn’t even turned the dials.

“Oh I’m not attempting to steal your snacks,” you said. That seemed to pique his interest. He made his way through the cabin towards you.

“Then why have the box out?”

“Because you’re going to give me a snack.”

Shinwon let out a howl of laughter. “Now that’s a good one. No one gets free snacks.”

“I never said it was free. This is an exchange.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Of what?”

You got off the bed. “I know how Bora got those chips.” You murmured.

Shinwon let out a snort. So far your seduction was failing. “So you think I will trade away my precious treats for some action?”

“Trust me,” you murmured, placing your hands on his chest. “It’ll be well worth your time.”

Shinwon burst out laughing and you dropped your hands away from him as he wrapped his arms around his stomach, cackling.

“Oh god, I cannot take you seriously,” he laughed. “Have you actually seduced people like this? Are you actually trying or are you messing with me?”

“Now I don’t want to answer that,” You muttered.

“Oh god,” he chuckled. “I figured you would be good at this.”

“Well I’m good at the sex part,” you mumbled.

“Mhm, sure,” he laughed. “Believable.”

You turned back to the bed, taking the lock into your hand. You had no clue what the code was. There was no chance you would break it on your own. Jihoon could do it, but you didn’t think you could convince him. Could you convince Wonwoo to convince him?

“Is that all you’ve got? Failed seduction?” He chuckled.

“What do you want for the chips?” You asked.

“Like sex specifically or like anything? I could go for some nachos if you can convince anywhere to deliver them here.”

You spun around and grabbed the front of his shirt, tugging him closer by force. “Listen to me, you smart ass. I didn’t do this and embarrass myself for nothing. I’m getting my snacks one way or another.”

“I- uh-” Shinwon shook his hair out a little. “I-I mean I can’t just give it to you.”

You tried to process his reaction, thinking for a moment before speaking. “You’re gonna give me those chips, Shinwon.”

“I-I-”

A slight smirk tugged at your lips as you started to walk him backwards. “What’s wrong, babe?”

“N-Nothing.” He sounded utterly unconvincing.

“You sure about that? You lost that attitude really quick.”

“It’s I-I uh-” he let out a whine as his back hit the wall.

You leaned in a little closer. “Do you like it when I talk to you like this?”

“I-I,” his face was growing deeper and deeper shades of red.

“You like being told what to do, don’t you?”

“Y-Yes,” his voice was breathy, all traces of his usual cockiness gone. This was a side of Shinwon you could get used to.

“You’re going to give me those chips, babe,” You purred. “But I’m nice, I’ll give you something in return.”

Shinwon nodded quickly. You kept your grip on his shirt as you pulled him from the cabin and out into the warm night air. He stumbled after you across the grass as you made a beeline for the docks.

“Wh-Where are we going?” He asked.

“Somewhere with a little more privacy.” You threw a glance back at him. “I mean, unless you’re into that.”

Shinwon’s face went redder, no full sentences managing to sputter from his mouth. You quirked an eyebrow at him and smirked.

“Good to know.”

“I-I it’s n-not y-”

“Come on baby, use your words,” you teased.

“Y-You won’t tell anyone will you?” He managed, keeping a little closer to you as you got beyond the main cabins and closer to the water.

“No one who doesn’t already know,” you smirked. “Though this is good goss.”

He pressed close to you. “I’ll be good for you. You don’t need to tell anyone a-about…”

You threw him a glance. “So if you get bratty I can tell everyone? Is that what you’re saying?”

“I-I no I didn’t mean that! I just- it- you-”

“Relax baby,” you hummed. “I can keep a secret.”

You pulled Shinwon around to the front of the waterside cabin. He kept himself close to you, now seeming antsy and excited as you got your keys out. You hastily opened the door, just managing to get the door closed behind the two of you before he was all over.

He grabbed at you, pulling you close and kissing you. And his kisses were desperate. You smirked slightly against his lips as you wound your arms around his neck. Who knew it was this easy to get him so needy.

You knew the layout of the room well. It didn’t take you long to push him back against the wall. He let your tongue into his mouth easily, letting out a small moan against your lips. You pressed into him, enjoying his eager his kisses, but not letting him move too fast, keeping them just slow enough to be frustrating.

Your hands travelled down his arms until you met his hands, grabbing at your hips and ass. You laced your fingers with his before pushing his arms back against the wall. He let you pin them there, whining into your kisses. You felt his hips pressing into you, already growing hard in his jeans.

You pressed your thigh between his legs, pulling away and moving to kiss along his neck instead. Shinwon let his head fall back against the wall. He caught his bottom lip between his teeth to quiet his panting and whining as you rolled your hips against him slowly.

“Does it feel good, baby?” You teased.

“Y-Yes.”

You chuckled. “You’re such a mess already. I’ve barely done anything.”

All he could do was whimper, his hips moving on their own. You wedged your thigh firmly between his legs, pressing into him as you leaned your lips close to his ear.

“Go ahead, baby,” you murmured. “Try and get yourself off against my leg.”

Shinwon let out a beautiful, pitiful whine, doing just as you said. He hips ground against your thigh, getting harder by the second. You squeezed his hands, keeping them against the wall as you listened to the way he whined and moaned. Your lips trailed back down his neck, pushing his shirt down until you could suck on his skin to leave a pretty, purple bruise.

You wanted to remain as composed as possible, but it would be a lie to say his reactions weren’t getting to you. The way he whimpered and moaned was music to your ears, every sound sending arousal rushing down your spine. Very quickly you had heat pooling in the pit of your stomach and as much as you wanted to milk this moment, you were also feeling your impatient growing.

And the idea of him on his knees was starting to cloud your mind.

You pulled away from him, letting go of his hands and stepping back. He stumbled a bit against the wall and choked back his disappointed whine as you regarded him.

“Take off your shirt.” You said. He was quick to comply, looking at you with a sweet, curious doe-eyed expression for what to do next. “Go over near the table.” He moved to where you motioned with a tilt of your head. You moved around the table and turned on one of the lanterns, giving you a bit of light before you turned towards him again, slowly lifting the hem of your shirt.

“Get on your knees.”

He was so obedient, sinking to his knees quickly and watching you excitedly as you pulled your shirt over your head. A strip tease might not have been your norm, and you would have thought he’d find it cheesy, but he was so enchanted as he watched you, leaning closer as you slipped your shorts off before turning around to show him your ass.

Shinwon let out a whine at the sight as you slowly slipped off your panties before climbing onto the table, mildly worried that it might be unsteady but it didn’t move or creak. You shifted to the edge of the table, hanging our legs down over the side before letting them fall open. Shinwon let out a moan at the sight as you drew your fingertips over your thighs.

“Come over here and make yourself useful,” you said with a grin.

Shinwon responded quickly, he shuffled closer, hands grabbing at your thighs and only taking the time to situate himself close enough before he was drawing his tongue through your folds. He let his eyes fall closed with a moan and you bit back your own as you grabbed at his hair roughly. He let out a whine, opening his eyes again.

“I want you to look at me,” you purred.

You felt the shiver that ran through his body at your words as he nodded to you. He kept his eyes on you, only moving them from your face to look at your chest as his tongue started moving over your clit.

“Just like that,” you hummed.

Shinwon ate you out more and more feverishly each moment. You kept your gaze on him, biting your own lip at the feeling. The sensation just what you needed after the arousal his moans had given you. You rested back on one hand, sinking your body back a little as you relaxed more.

Shinwon’s ministrations had pleasure curling through your body. It was pooling deep in your core and slowly you started to move your hips, wanting a little more and eyes glancing quickly at his hands.

“Are your hands on vacation?” You questioned.

“No,” he mumbled quickly, shaking his head. He was quick to draw his hand in from your thigh, only slowing down in the motion to push his finger inside of you slowly. You sunk back into your arms, letting out a moan at the feeling. He brought his tongue back to your clit as he started to finger you, slowly searching with his movements.

His finger was clumsier than his tongue, not quite finding the right motion. You shifted and rolled you hips, trying to get him right where you wanted but to no avail, even if his tongue moving over you clit was still sending pleasure through your body.

“Not quite like that, baby,” you said, tugging on his hair lightly. Your own lip caught between your teeth at the sweet, desperate look in his eyes as he changed what he was doing, watching your reaction. Something about the sweet look in his eye, how he wanted to please you, was so intoxicating.

“No,” your voice was a little softer as you took his wrist in your hand. You moved it just a bit, trying to angle his hand better. “Now curl your finger.” He did as you said and you let out a breathy moan at the sensation. “Just like that, can you keep doing that for me?”

Shinwon nodded and gave you an “mhm” as he pressed a kiss to your clit.

“Good boy,” you breathed, voice giving away your own need more and more as he repeated the motion, slowly getting faster when you reacted well.

You let yourself revel in the pleasure. His tongue moved more quickly over you clit, sending sparks of pleasure with each movement. His finger moved in just the motion you liked. Slowly, the coil inside of you started to turn, twisting in on itself as you grew more and more aroused.

“You’re a quick learner, baby,” you hummed breathily. “I wonder what else I could teach you.”

Shinwon let out a moan against your clit at your words. He kept his eyes locked on yours as his finger slowed before he pushed in another.

“Perfect,” you moaned. “Who knew you could be such a good boy?”

Even in the low light you could see the blush spread across his cheeks. His eyes glazed down shyly for a moment but just tightening your grip in his hair had him looking up at you again.

“I wonder what you could learn to do to me,” you hummed. “I wonder what you would let me do to you.”

Shinwon shifted a little as you smirked. His free hand was still gripping your thigh, though more and more harshly. He was moving his hips, clearly looking for some kind of relief badly but too good and obedient to try and sneakily get himself off.

“Are you needy, baby?” You asked.

Shinwon let out a moan in response that rocked through your core. The coil inside you was twisting tighter and tighter. You were getting closer to your release as his fingers moved at a quicker, steady pace. His lips wrapped around your clit, sucking it almost harshly.

“Fuck, yes,” you moaned, head falling back. As much as you knew he was ready to move on this felt so heavenly now. Each of his whimpers and moans rushed through you from your clit, his fingers curling into just the right spot. Your hips chased the sensations, grinding against his face and down on his fingers.

Your thighs started to press in towards his head and he let them. His hand fell away and you peeked at him, realizing it had gone out of your sight.

“Don’t touch yourself,” you warned, earning a whine from him.

“You can think about it all you want,” you said breathily, noticing his free hand come up to grip the edge of the table. “You can imagine my hand wrapped around it. Or my mouth. Or my pussy.”

Shinwon let out a pitiful whine, gaze more and more desperate by the second as he kept shifting.

“You can think about how good it will feel to finally get your release after being such a good boy for me,” you moaned.

Despite all his patience he was clearly beyond needy. His knuckles were nearly white as he gripped the table and the movement of his fingers were sloppy as he tried to keep his focus but was desperately wanting more.

He let out a gasp as you tugged his hair harshly, pulling his head back. He gazed up at you, catching his breath and trying to figure out why you had stopped, slight fear in his gaze that you might not go any further.

“I need you to take off your pants and get up on the table for me,” you murmured. “And no touching yourself.”

Shinwon scrambled to his feet as you moved aside. You admired his body as he took off his pants and boxers. His cock was hard and as he laid down it laid heavy on his stomach. You moved around to find your shorts. You searched in your pocket for the condom you had brought before climbing back on the table, smirking down at Shinwon. He lay there, gazing up at you with a soft blush on his face. His hands gripped the edge of the table above his head to keep from touching himself.

You leaned down to press a few kisses to his lower stomach, an act that made his breath hitch, before letting your fingers trail lightly over his cock.

Shinwon let out a gasp, hips bucking up towards your hand.

“Your cock is all red,” you hummed. “Are you sensitive?”

“Y-Yes,” he managed as you trailed another light touch along it. “Please.”

“You have been patient,” you murmured, still teasing him. “You’ve been a good boy.”

“Please,” he whined. “I’ll still be good. I-I can even cum m-more than once if-” He let out a cry as you wrapped your hand tightly around his cock and started pumping it quickly.

“Well this I need to see,” you smirked.

Shinwon was already so worked up and turned on that it took no time at all for his hips to be bucking up. He chased your hand with movements, letting moans pour from his lips as you pumped his cock quickly, your grip tight. His own grip on the edge of the table had his knuckles white as he squeezed his eyes shut.

He came with a cry, cum landing across his lower stomach and dripping down your hand. He was trembling slightly as you held the base of his cock and ripped open the condom packet with your teeth before rolling it on him with your other hand.

“Y-You’re- You mean right away?” He asked shakily.

“Unless you can’t handle it,” You said, straddling his hips. “You said you could cum again for me.”

“I-I can!” he said quickly.

“Good,” you grinned, taking his cock into your hand. He bit down on his lip but it was no use once you started to sink down on his cock. His mouth fell open in a broken moan while you let out a quiet one. You sunk all the way to the bottom, still very worked up yourself, before you started to grid down on him.

“F-Fuck,” he whined. He couldn’t keep his eyes open. They squeezed shut and his hands grabbed your hips as you started to ride him.

The way you felt as you stretched around him was sublime, feeling every inch of him moving inside you. You focused on the movement that felt the best to you, finding where his cock hit just the right spot and quickly grinding down in the same motion as the coil curled tightly in your core.

Shinwon tried to sputter out words but managed nothing coherent and you leaned down over him.

“Is it too much, baby?”

He bit his lip and shook his head, blushing harder even though he couldn’t see your smirk.

“That’s what I thought. You’re just a little sensitive.” You clenched around him and he let out a pitiful whine, just barely managing to look at you.

You held his gaze as you rode him quickly, entirely focused on your own pleasure. All coherence from his sounds was lost other than moans and whimpers. You dug your nails into his shoulders as you held onto him as pleasure shot through you from every movement. The coil was curled tightly in your core now, nearly ready to snap.

You moved your hips slightly differently, circling them, and watched as Shinwon’s eyes rolled back. He let out a gorgeous, broken cry as he bucked up into you, cumming hard and squeezing your hips harshly.

You fell over your edge after him. Your own thighs shook and you moaned out as you released. Pleasure washed through your body in a rush that knocked the breath out of you and had your arms shaking as you tried to hold yourself up. You cleached hard around Shinwon which had his whines nearly sounding like sobs from how sensitive he was.

As you started to come down you climbed off of him shakily. You were gentle taking off and throwing away the condom, reminding yourself to take out the trash before Monday. Shinwon was still panting on the table and you climbed back on with him, laying next to him. He rolled over and curled into you, hiding his head under your chin, his body shaking.

“Are you okay?” You asked, running your fingers through his hair soothingly.

He nodded into your chest. “W-Was it- D-Did I do o-okay?”

“That was really good,” you reassured him. “You’re a very good boy.”

He let out a whimper and pressed his face more into your neck. “You won’t tell anyone i-if I don’t want you to, right?”

“Of course not,” you hummed. “Your secrets are safe with me.” You paused as a grin tugged at your lips. “So long as I get my chips.”

#camp north star au #cns au #pentagon smut #pentagon imagines #shinwon imagines #shinwon smut #ko shinwon smut #go shinwon smut

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lucas-koh · 4 years ago

Text

Stitches - Bryce Lahela x MC XI

Parts 1-10 linked in bio!

Only somewhat canon compliant.

Song: sex (catching feelings) - EDEN

Rating: M; sexual content, swearing, mentions of death, drinking

Word Count: 4261

Taglist: @lahellacute @lahamseiroshoe @anotherbeingsworld @fuseboxmusebox @choicesficwriterscreations @bubblelaureno @bratzlahela @eleanorbloom @bryceslahela @thegreentwin @kelseaaa || please let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from this list

Chapter Eleven: Tequila Flavoured Sutures

And ring in the New Year they did, for hours and hours and hours. There was little concern about the noise they were making due to the fact that everyone was passed out from alcohol by that point.

—-

It took almost the entire month of January until Suki had a day off, in fact, two days off. She skipped over her birthday on the 18th, opting for takeout and a movie (and not telling anyone it was her birthday so they wouldn’t make a fuss). Yay to twenty-eight. Her plans for her days off initially involved those chips and candy she didn’t get to indulge in before; but then she thought about Bryce’s words the last time ‘…and you didn’t even think to invite me?’ And immediately caved. She did want to see him after such a long time. Especially after how he was in bed at New Years…

Santa Fe: 👃yours?

Scalpel Jockey: i finish in a couple hours?

Santa Fe: cool, i’ll be there

Scalpel Jockey: 😈

So after a couple of hours Suki arrived at Bryce’s place. Pretty much as soon as she stepped through the door she was rushing Bryce’s shirt off.

“Woah, someone’s eager.”

“It’s been a little while.”

—-

A chunk of time and a few rounds later, Bryce and Suki caught their breath on his bed. Suki wasn’t ready for the night to end, she was pretty horny still, and she had the day off tomorrow, too.

“Hey,” she grinned with mischief and sudden inspiration in her eyes, she had missed out on birthday fun after all, “wanna get drunk and do body shots?”

“Absolutely,” Bryce bit his lip and his eyelids sunk with desire. Suki already knew this would be an interesting night.

They partially dressed and headed into the kitchen to grab Bryce’s alcohol. He crouched down to a little cupboard in the corner of his kitchen.

“Oh.” He pulled a bottle of rum from the cupboard. There was barely anything left in it.

“Shit,” Suki laughed.

“I can grab something from the convenience store?”

“Eh, why not, I’ll come along.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Some fresh air might be nice after all that… exertion.”

So Bryce and Suki put on the rest of their clothes and headed out to walk to the store. The late January cold was biting but neither of them noticed much.

On the walk they talked about everything and nothing, like they were old friends catching up after too long away. Suki tried to ignore the fact that their hands brushed when they walked too close together. That the cold metal of his rings sent a jolt through the nerves in her fingers. She also tried to ignore the fact that made her think about holding that hand. Back on the first day, when they’d danced to The Stone Roses, when he’d asked if she wanted to be adored and made her scramble under his gaze. And then the many times she’d gripped his hand while he was fucking her into oblivion, letting it press her own into the mattress with pressure, his fingers fitting between her own desperately and needing like puzzle pieces. Her nails digging into the back of his hand and vice versa. She remembered how that first time and all the times since their hands had felt right, like an old key and lock with a very specific shape.

Once they reached the store, they picked up two bottles of tequila, and some fresh limes.

“I’ll pay,” Bryce rushed in front of her, “I’ll keep whatever’s left over.”

“Not if we drink it all,” she teased.

“That’s 70cl each, I think not,” Bryce chuckled as the cashier put the bottles in their over-used old plastic bag for them. Suki pulled the full bag from the counter once Bryce had paid.

“Can’t handle it?”

“Thanks man,” Bryce said to the cashier and they began to make their way outside. “As doctors I think we both know 70cl is like, death limits.”

“Long term, maybe,” she shrugged. When she saw the look Bryce was giving her, she added, “I’m joking, you dumbass! I’m not sure why you even bought two bottles.”

“Eh, saves coming down here again.”

“Lazy-ass.”

They pushed open the door to step into the cold outside. Bryce shook his head affectionately and laughed at Suki, despite the conversation being barely funny.

As he laughed, Bryce stumbled backwards off the step up to the shop and into a man drinking just outside the store.

“Oops, sorry man,” he grinned an apology. It was lighthearted and accidental and that should’ve been the end of it. But this dude did not look happy.

“Hey Buddy, are you looking for a fight?”

“No, not at all – just an accident, dude.”

“Are you fuckin’ sure?” The man signalled down to the ground where a vodka bottle was smashed into large pieces.

“I’m sorry, I’ll buy you another.”

Suki was beginning to feel very stressed. Confrontation was her least favourite thing ever. She pulled one of the tequila bottles from her bag.

“Here, sir. Have this. He really didn’t mean to break it.”

“Tell your boyfriend to be more careful,” he spat.

Suki didn’t want to provoke him any more by correcting him, but she also didn’t want him to keep talking smack. Hearing this guy get so worked up over Bryce’s mere mistake was enough to give Suki a major adrenaline and confidence boost.

“He tripped, and then apologised immediately. We offered to buy you another bottle, and even offered up our own. Maybe you need to calm down.” Her voice was slightly raised and she was starting to see red from anger.

“Suki-“ Bryce started, holding a hand out as though to shield her.

But this man was very intoxicated and clearly in the mood to be a dick, because he walked over to Suki and shoved her to the floor. It was like everything was moving in fast forward because it happened in just seconds. And then all of a sudden Suki was on the other side of the coin and in slow motion, stumbling down to the concrete. In the process the tequila in the dishevelled bag in her hand also smashed through the worn plastic and to the floor and Suki, in trying to break her fall, stumbled back on her hands. She winced as her hand dug right into one particularly sharp shard of glass.

“Shit.”

The man’s eyes widened as he noticed what he’d done and the absolute rage and contempt on Bryce’s face. Bryce was furious. Suki had never seen him so mad. Not even that day he’d lost the surgery. And it wasn’t cartoon smoke-out-the-ears fury either, it was scary. Pure. The drunkard was clearly terrified by Bryce’s expression and his tightly clenching fists and he scarpered.

“HEY! ASSHOLE!” Bryce shouted after him, running down the road after him a bit. Suki was surprised at how fast he was running. He got a little ways down the sidewalk when the other man crossed a traffic-filled road. Bryce looked back and saw Suki on the floor - he knew his priority was her.

He returned to where she was now sat on the floor, examining the glass shoved into her hand and crumbs of concrete around the area, too. The aroma of tequila mixed with blood was overwhelming. Suki was honestly feeling a mixture of shell-shock and dizzy headiness.

“Fuck,” Bryce said, crouching beside her and taking her hand in his like the very limb was made of glass. “I’ll fucking kill him. Does anywhere else hurt? Are you okay emotionally?”

His deep brown eyes searched hers, desperate concern clouding them. All traces of the absolute anger of before were gone, only solicitude and tunnelled focus on the woman before him.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Maybe a bruise on my butt but I’ve had worse. What a dick.”

Bryce held the underside of her hand in both of his, securing her wrist steady, and scrunched his face up as he inspected it. “We need to get the glass out of this.”

“Easy, it’s only the one piece.” Suki tried not to yelp as she pulled the shard from her palm.

“Suki!” Bryce chastised.

“It’s all good, see?”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just do that after nine years of medical training.”

“It’s fine,” she assured him, hoping her eyes were telling him so too. Sure, it hurt, but it wasn’t enough to make a big deal out of.

“You should let me take you to the emergency room.”

“Bryce. It’s fine. It’s not a big deal.”

He winced as he looked at the blood still pouring from the gash in her hand. “I swear I’ll deck that guy if I ever see him again. It’ll heal much better if you go to the ER and get stitches. The last thing a doctor needs is nerve damage.”

“Bryce.”

“Fine, then you’re coming back to mine and letting me stitch it.”

“Bryce!” Suki was feeling like a broken record, but honestly at that moment, a combination of shock and the odd feeling Bryce’s eyes gave her was making it a little difficult to access her full word library.

“Don’t wear my name out,” he winked, keeping one hand on hers and placing the other round her waist as he helped pull her up from the ground. She was sure to grab the unaffected tequila bottle and limes with her functioning hand.

“I could’ve stood up by myself you know, my legs are fine.”

“I’m keeping this hand so you don’t do anything else to it,” he said, taking Suki’s wrist to hold her bleeding hand above her heart, and began to pull her along with him. She sighed but let him pull her along, anything to get him not to go after that guy. She didn’t need the further mortification.

The walk back had lost the vibe of the walk there; solemn and sober. Mostly filled with Bryce muttering things about the man and retained asking of Suki’s well-being.

Bryce held her wrist the entire way, catching most of the leftover dripping blood on his own hand.

They reached Bryce’s apartment and he unlocked the door for them, closed it behind him, and then led Suki over to the sofa.

“Stay there,” he instructed before disappearing into the kitchen. Seconds later he re-emerged with a sizeable first aid kit.

“That’s big,” Suki laughed, a little more colour in her cheeks now that they were inside, “I would say you’re compensating for something but...”

“But you know I’m not,” he grinned smugly as he perched beside her.

Bryce was ever so delicate as he held Suki’s hand and cleaned away the blood with an antiseptic wipe. She winced the first time the cool chemical wipe made contact with the gash which caused Bryce to immediately stop and look at her. She gave him a little nod to continue. He did his best to be careful as he moved the skin around a bit under his phone flashlight to see if any glass was lingering.

“I swear Suki if this heals and there’s still glass in there because you wouldn’t let me take you to the ER, you’ll never hear the end of this.”

“Fine, but I trust your 20/20 vision and steady scalpel hand.”

“As you should.”

Once the wound was clean and Bryce had checked multiple times for fragments of glass, he pulled his suture kit from the box.

Watching Bryce steady the curved needle end in some tweezers was artful. He was so practised, so sure. The way his pretty features furrowed together slightly in focus was magnetising. She was amazed at how steady his hands were, how such large appendages could look so fine and delicate. Each stitch pulled through was neat and even, Suki’s eyes flicking between the stitches and Bryce’s facial expression. It was piercing her skin but it was like she couldn’t feel it. His other hand remained beneath hers, holding it up and keeping it from shaking. Then Bryce secured the stitches and started to wrap some bandage around for extra protection.

Bryce finished off his bandaging by tucking it in at the back of her hand. He held her hand, still.

“It’s going to scar,” he sighed.

“What’s a doctor without a few scars?”

“Touché.”

“Thank you for doing this.”

“It was no question.”

Suki couldn’t help but notice the way Bryce’s thumb soothed the back of the hand it was holding. She looked up to the clock. It had only been an hour since they’d left for drinks. Eventful hour.

Eventually Bryce seemed to notice his hand and removed it from hers.

“What about those body shots then?” She smirked.

“You’re hurt.”

“It’s a cut on my hand, I was planning on doing these shots with my mouth…”

Bryce raised his eyebrows and licked his lips. “Well, we did manage to salvage one bottle.”

“Not to mention it has been secured by ‘the best surgical intern at Edenbrook’.”

“Oh you’re damn fucking right. Fine, you know how to convince a guy. We’re gonna take it careful though, okay?”

“Deal. On which I will not shake my hand.”

He laughed and got up to fetch the shot glasses from the kitchen, beckoning her over.

“The counter will be best.”

Suki laid down first, letting Bryce slip her top over her head (with which he was incredibly careful with her hand), and slide her pants down her legs until she was laying on his kitchen island in only her underwear.

“Now, this is a sight that could encourage me to be in the kitchen more,” Bryce laughed, trailing a finger up and down her arm and causing her to tremble.

“Still haven’t learned any recipes, huh?”

“No. But there’s no way in hell we’re talking about cooking right now.”

Bryce licked a finger and trailed it slowly between Suki’s breasts, then sprinkled some salt over that area. He rested the lime wedge on her stomach. Finally he filled a shot glass with the spirit and placed it in her mouth. She was trying not to laugh too hard so that she didn’t spill the tequila all over her face.

“Ready?” He smirked. She lifted her good hand in an ‘ok’ sign.

As Bryce leaned down towards Suki’s chest, his face was hungry, craving. That look was making Suki’s stomach flip all kinds of directions. He sensuously licked his tongue up between her breasts, catching each grain of salt. He laughed a little as he moved to collect the shot glass in his own mouth. Their lips touched briefly as he secured it in his mouth, then he threw his head back and downed the shot immediately. Then rather swiftly Bryce moved down to Suki’s stomach to suck all the juice from the lime and counter the sharp tequila flavour.

“Okay, that was a really good idea,” he exhaled in the way one does after a strong shot of alcohol. Bryce took another three shots from various parts of Suki’s body; for the last two she lay on her stomach and he used spots such as the nape of her neck, small of her back, and asscheek. The two of them were a messy mix of laughing the whole time, and really enjoying the whole thing.

“Right? My turn now.”

Bryce and Suki switched places, and he threw all his clothing bar underpants off towards the lounge.

Suki used her tongue to dampen the line in the middle of Bryce’s abs for the salt, balanced the shot glass precariously on the flat part of his chest, and placed the lime in his mouth.

She was slow and tantalising as she lapped up the salt, swift as she took the shot, and then there was the lime. She leant down to suck out the sour juice, but kept the lime in his mouth the entire time she drained it. It was an odd but exciting semi-kiss.

After a couple more shots Suki had a new idea.

“Wait, wait,” she laughed, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“What?”

“What if… I poured a bit on your stomach and licked it up…” she was laughing a lot, but it was obvious the idea appealed a lot to her.

“Do it.”

She placed a hand on his stomach to steady him before she planned to carefully pour the liquid over him.

“Hey, careful with that hand,” Bryce nudged, noticing it pressed flat on his body.

“Yes, yes, Dr. Lahela,” she teased.

Time seemed to fly by as the pair took shot after shot, broken up by messy intoxicated kisses, neither realising that Suki’s tolerance was far lower than Bryce’s. After losing count, they wordlessly abandoned the game, relocating to dance around stupidly in their underwear in the living room. Suki may or may not have been swigging tequila directly from the bottle at that point.

A number of songs played and then:

“I’m… pretty drunk,” Suki laughed, closing her eyes and letting herself sway a bit.

“Same!” Bryce enthused, before Suki began to topple over towards the sofa, “woah! Okay, you’re more drunk than me.” He giggled as he caught her fall. Now he was sitting on the floor with Suki’s jelly-like body in his arms. He kept a weary eye on her bandaged hand.

Yes, Bryce was drunk, but the moment he needed to be sensible or protective it was like a switch went off in his brain.

Her eyes were still shut and a blissful smile spread over her face. “Kiss me.”

Bryce leaned in and gave her a chaste peck to the lips.

“I know you can kiss better than that,” she echoed his words from their epic kiss.

“Not when you’re drunker than me I can’t.”

“Boohoo.”

“We should get you home. I’ll come with, I’m not sure I’m comfortable putting you in an Uber alone.”

“I don’t think I can walk very far, Bryyyceee.”

“Okay, you can have my bed then. I’ll take the sofa.”

“Nooooo,” she brought up her limp hands to grab either side of his face, visibly wincing a bit when the bandaged one made contact with his face. “Sleep with me.”

“Clothed? Sure.” Bryce took her damaged hand in his own and held it away from any pain risks.

“Nopeeee,” Suki’s remaining clumsy hand began to slide down Bryce’s chest and fiddle with the band of his boxers. He laughed and grabbed them both with his free hand to stop her.

“I’m not having sex with you again tonight.”

“Meanie.”

“Okay.” He chuckled again.

“But will you sleep with me? Like, to make sure I don’t throw up in the night or something.”

“Sure, miss tequila.”

Bryce stood and pulled Suki up with him, her eyes fluttering open at the movement, and supported her in the walk to his bedroom.

“Are you cold? I have some pyjamas if you’d like,” he offered when they got there, still holding her tightly to his side.

She shook her head, but didn’t seem sure. She looked up to Bryce with wide eyes and a startled expression like she was only just really seeing him.

“Bathroom,” she choked out, and Bryce rushed her towards his en-suite. He supported her all the way to her eventually emptying the contents of her stomach into his toilet bowl.

He held her hair back from her face as she very inelegantly upchucked into Bryce’s toilet a few times.

“I’m sorry,” she looked up at him, eyes wide and apologetic, “I didn’t mean to drink so much I’m just…” nervous around you. Stupidly feeling ways I shouldn’t for my fuck Buddy. Wanted you to see me as fun and free-spirited. Now I’m just embarrassing myself.

“You don’t need to explain yourself. It’s okay.”

Once it was clear nothing else was coming out, Bryce helped Suki drink from a glass of water, and briefly left the room for her to pee.

Bryce was gentle as he ran a spare (unused) toothbrush around her mouth and directed her head to the sink each time to spit.

Suki wasn’t coherent enough to ramble all her apologies and thanks’, but she was so grateful. Could this man stop being so amazing, please? I’m trying to stop being weird, here.

Eventually Bryce was able to help Suki into some of his pyjamas, somehow without looking at all. Seeing a very drunk naked girl is not the same, even if he had seen said girl naked many times prior. Then he helped her into bed and she collapsed against his pillow like a rag doll. He climbed into bed beside her, careful to keep his distance.

“Bryce…” she slurred, the sleep clear in her voice. “You’re a really great guy. I’m glad we’re…” Suki was going to say friends, but it felt wrong coming out of her mouth at that moment. “I’m glad I know you.”

“Yeah, I’m glad I know you too.” Bryce reached up a hand to stroke her cheek. She sighed into his hand, moving a bit cat-like.

“Since you wouldn’t fuck me, will you at least cuddle me?”

Bryce laughed. “Of course.”

“You are so great. So great. Great guy.” As she mumbled these words drunkenly it was clear the unconsciousness was taking over.

Bryce rolled towards her and cradled her into his chest, holding her tightly as though it had been a long time coming.

Bryce’s breaths came gently over Suki’s forehead. And after a few minutes, when he was sure she’d fallen asleep, he spoke ever so quietly.

“If only you knew what a screw up I was,” he muttered. Suki may have been drunk and spewing shit she wouldn’t sober, but her ears were working fine. And she would remember this in the morning. Despite the intoxication she knew such out of pocket words would be something she’d recall. She knew then to keep as still as she could, not alerting to him that she was awake or coherent.

—-

When Suki woke up, her pillow was hard. Her duvet was gripping her waist kind of tightly, too. As she nuzzled into the pillow her senses were invigorated with a sudden and familiar scent: suddenly most of the nights events clocked in her brain.

Sex with Bryce. Walk to convenience store. Accidental beef with drunk man. Damaged hand. Bryce stitching up said hand. Body shots. Lots of body shots. Random blank moment. Oh god - throwing up in Bryce’s toilet. Being dressed by a closed-eye Bryce. Finally falling into bed. Those words.

What the hell could he have meant by that last night? If only I knew what a screw up he was? As far as I’m concerned right now he’s an angel sent from above to deal with a problematically drunk Suki.

He was breathing gently beneath her, quiet noises at each exhale. She noticed as she listened to the rhythm of his heart, that her heart was beating in time with his.

Maybe she should’ve left. After all, she’d ended up causing a lot of trouble for Bryce. And, she’d stayed the night. Maybe if she left before he woke up it wouldn’t count that she’d broken the rule.

But before she could truly agonise over her decision, Bryce stirred, blinking awake and looking down at her.

“Hey,” he smiled. To Suki’s surprise his arm remained around her waist. Okay, I’m surprised he doesn’t hate me. Then again, he wouldn’t be the type to be open about hating someone.

“Hey,” she replied quietly, looking up at him from his chest. “So… I was pretty drunk last night.”

“Yeah. I thought I was too and then you fell over. The decline was pretty quick after that.”

“I’m so sorry. That you had to see me like that, look after me, and then I hijacked your bed too… it wasn’t appropriate of me and it was unfair on you.”

“It’s okay, Suki. You’d do the same for me. We’re friends and making sure you’re okay and looked after is important to me,” he nodded sincerely before grinning and adding, “plus, now I have plenty of blackmail material.”

“God I was awful wasn’t I?”

He chuckled.

Oh shit. “Did I say anything really bad? If I did please ignore it because I talk out of my ass when I’m drunk I’m sure it was utter nonsense.”

“If you did, I think I’ll keep it to myself.”

Ughhhhh. She groaned loudly and buried her face into his chest so that she didn’t have to see that stupid smirk. Now my mind will race about what I could’ve said for the rest of time.

Suki actually felt like hitting Bryce as his large hand slowly soothed her back.

He had to stop doing so much for her, being so exemplary, because it was adding to a problem that had been brewing in Suki for a while. He’d comforted her in the supply closet twice, he’d looked after Tommy, he’d held her hair back while she was sick and let her stay the night, and he’d stitched up her wound so carefully and precisely. He’d even nearly beat up that guy for her.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit.

She’d broken her promise, because it wasn’t just about sex anymore. Truthfully, maybe it never was.

There was absolutely no way she could swing it any longer. Suki Moore liked Bryce Lahela. As more than a friend, more than a body. She was enamoured by him, and had no clue what to do about it.

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jackiesarch · 4 years ago

Text

mission impossible: egg roll

sometimes you bribe your friends with 200 words of max blowing an air horn in tommy’s face in no outbreak au and sometimes you give them 1.1k words of absolute nonsense instead, don’t worry about it.

as always, thank you for letting me play with your clowns @tommymillers — you know how much i love these two!

The plan goes off in a way few of his plans ever do: without a hitch.

At least, at first.

The alarm on Tommy’s bedside table whispers him awake just as the glowing green numbers switch from 12:59 to 1:00. He blinks, bleary-eyed and still half-asleep, before his brain flickers on and commands him to turn off the quiet, constant beep-beep-beep.

Step one — complete.

The first thing he notices when he rolls into his back is that Max isn’t curled up next to him like she usually is. She’s been there — her side of the bed is rumpled and wrinkled like she’s slept in it. Tommy just isn’t sure where she’s disappeared to.

It’s a dent in his plan, not knowing where she is, but he moves forward anyway. Tommy kicks the blankets off and swings his legs over the edge of the bed, as quickly and quietly as possible, and creeps out of the bedroom.

The hallway is dark. The only light comes from the windows in the kitchen opposite where he stands. With the curtains wide open, the soft glow of the moon spills into the room, dances across the hardwood flooring.

There’s more light, though. Tommy notices it as he passes the bathroom. Yellow light floods out from the crack under the door, and suddenly it makes sense: Max is in the bathroom. Max is in the bathroom, that’s why she isn’t in bed, and everything is still going according to plan. Still, it makes his trek a little riskier. Tommy tiptoes past the door and into the kitchen, quiet as can be, then beelines for the fridge.

There it is, he thinks to himself when he opens the refrigerator door victoriously. My prize.

He’s just reaching for the container of leftover Chinese when a sharp, blaring noise pierces the silence. It makes him yelp, and in his terror he lets go of the fridge door and skitters back against the kitchen island, crashing into it so hard he’s sure it’ll leave a bruise.

“Oh Jesus,” he hisses, rubbing at his hip. “What the fuck?”

This far away, the light from the fridge is both a hindrance and a help. Everything in the kitchen is cast into thick, murky shadows that build on each other — he can make out the edges of the cabinets and cupboards, can see the dark curve of the faucet where it leads out of the sink. There’s a flicker of movement next to the fridge, and Tommy’s eyes fall on a vaguely person-shaped, opaque mass that he thinks might be his girlfriend. Tentatively, he inches away from the island and steps closer.

“Max? That y—“

The noise comes again, somehow louder and more disorienting than the first time. Tommy’s voice is swallowed by it, and instinctively he brings his hands up to cover his ears, gritting his teeth against the sound.

“Will you quit doin’ that? Gonna make my goddamn heart explode!”

Max eyes him from her perch on the kitchen counter. Now, with the fridge still half open and his eyes adjusting to the dim light it casts, Tommy can see her more clearly. She’s bathed in an eerie, fluorescent glow that makes her look like a goblin — like some tiny little monster ascended from hell to make his midnight trips to the kitchen for snacks as dangerous as walking on land mines.

“I told you to stop takin’ my fuckin’ leftovers! Told you a thousand fuckin’ times!” she howls, voice so shrill Tommy thinks it might rival the air horn. “You’re lucky I don’t take that egg roll and shove it up your ass!”

Tommy opens his mouth to defend himself, but the words die in his throat when Max holds the air horn up and blows it in his face. It’s a long, ear piercing sound, and he reaches out to swat the thing away to no avail.

“Shut up!”

There’s a dull thud as she jumps off the counter and comes flying towards him, a ball of messy blonde hair and blinding rage. She has the air horn grasped in one hand, while the other comes up to his chest to push at him.

“What’s it gonna take? Huh?” With each word, Max jabs a finger into his breastbone so hard it /hurts/. “Gotta poison my fuckin’ food to keep your little raccoon fuckin’ hands off it?”

“Baby, I just—“

The air horn blares again, further from his ringing ears but just as loud and grating. Tommy flinches, closing his eyes as though if he tries hard enough, he can wake up in bed before all this began and preserve the structural integrity of his eardrums.

“No ‘baby’! Don’t wanna hear it!”

The hand on his chest falls away, and instinctively Tommy’s fingers fall to the same spot between his ribs. He rubs at the dull ache starting to form at the same time Maxine stabs her index finger in the general direction of the bedroom.

“Go.” Air horn. “To.” Air horn. “Bed!” Air horn.

The barrage is enough that he stumbles away from her, sound echoing in his head like a constant scream of angry feedback from a broken speaker. Max raises her arm, but Tommy’s quicker, holding his hands up in surrender as he walks backwards down the hall.

“Alright, goddamn! I’m goin’! Stop blowin’ that fuckin’ thing!”

He doesn’t turn — instead, he keeps walking backwards, keeps his eyes on Max like she’s a threat that needs what little calculation his scrambled, sleepy brain can provide. She follows him from a foot away, air horn always at the ready, until he crosses into their bedroom and she stops outside.

“Aren’t you comin’ too?” he asks, eyeing her carefully.

Somehow — somehow — her eyes narrow even further.

“Think I’m just gonna climb back in and go to sleep while your gremlin fuckin’ brain starts comin’ up with ways to steal my food? No fuckin’ way.”

“So—” Tommy starts, weighing his words carefully, “So you’re gonna...stand guard? At the fridge?”

Max eyes him warily, lifting the air horn in front of herself in a way that makes him flinch. The space between them grows as he takes an involuntary step back.

“No. ‘M gonna put some mousetraps around the fucker and hope you lose some toes.”

He doesn’t get a chance to open his mouth before Max is reaching into the room pulling the door shut on him. For a few seconds, he listens to the way her grumbles start to fade as she wanders back to the kitchen.

Well, he thinks to himself, gaze drifting to the glowing numbers on the alarm clock.

Time for Plan B.

#maxine tyler #tommy miller #no outbreak au #tlou oc #the last of us oc #tlou #the last of us #friends ocs #my writing #tommy miller x oc #long post

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silica-sunset · 4 years ago

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Whumptober Day 3 - Held at Gunpoint

1.4k words of a far cry cult au

CW: gun violence, major (resistance member) character death, graphic depictions of strangulation

Rook only has himself to blame for the position he’s in, on his knees with his hands zip tied behind him. He knew it was stupid, knew there was no way Nick wanted to have a parley with him without ill-intent. But Nick was his favorite of the people he left behind and even though he tried to kill who he was before, he couldn’t kill the part of himself that loved Nick. He was Rook’s weak point, the one person he refused to hurt, and Rook knew the sooner he got the Rye family out, the faster Rook could help tear the county apart without that bit of hesitation getting in the way. He wanted so badly to save his old friend that he went against his gut, suffered through John’s jealousy-fueled sullen silences and bursts of anger just to ensure Nick and Kim would have safe passage out of Hope County.

He knew something wasn’t right when he pulled up outside their home, but determination always made him stupid. Rook couldn’t trust anyone else to make sure they got out all right, and he paid the price for it in the form of a bat to the back of the head when he stepped out of his truck. He was unconscious before he could even hit the dirt.

His head hurts like a motherfucker when someone finally kicks him awake, hard enough to break his ribs. Someone behind him lifts him roughly upright again when the kick forces him onto his side, jostling his pounding skull and his aching shoulders. The nausea is overwhelming and the stomach acid burns his esophagus when he pukes it up on the floor in front of him. There’s a sound of disgust and he blearily looks up. He’s near the arcade machine in the Spread Eagle and Mary May is standing in front of him. He hasn’t seen such contempt since the night he walked out of this place and joined Eden’s Gate. Not even the Peggies hate him this much, and he’s killed way more of them.

“Did you enjoy your time with them?” Mary May spits. Her body lurches with the force of her fury but the shotgun in her hands doesn’t waver from where she points it at Rook’s head. “Did you get what you wanted?”

Her eyes tell it all: no matter what he says, she’s going to kill him. She just wants to hear him admit he made a mistake, that he’s sorry and beg for his life, that he should’ve known better than to trust Joseph Seed. That he regrets all the Resistance members he’s killed. He won’t give her the satisfaction because there isn’t any to give.

“Yeah. I did,” Rook says. It’s just the honest truth. He always suspected he was going to die in Hope County and he can finally say that he doesn’t feel like it’ll be a waste. Even the brief involvement he had in the Project felt more meaningful than anything else he’s done in his wretched life. He’ll go to his grave absolved of his sins by the only people that matter. He will miss Boomer though. “You know you’re going to die for this, right? I don’t care that you’re going to kill me, but the Father definitely will. John will raze Fall’s End to ashes before the week is over.”

“Let him try,” she hisses, “I’ll kill him too.”

Rook laughs, body slumping. He tries to test the restraints and feels blood trail sluggishly down his hands from where the skin near his wrists has been rubbed raw. “Yeah, right. I’m the only person who ever stood a chance at killing John. The second I joined them, you lost any chance you ever had at winning.”

“You shut your mouth.”

“You never could handle the truth.” He tugs harder at the zip tie. “Some outsider nobodies managed to hold your entire fucking county hostage, and your only hope of salvation was the National Guard. And when that didn’t work out, your second best chance was another outsider nobody, just some rookie cop with a hobby for firearms. You all are Weak, running around like children with the most ass-backwards priorities -”

“Shut the hell up, Rook! We were managin’ just fine before you showed up.”

Rook laughs again - meaner, full of violence. “You can lie to yourself all you want. I’m right like I was right that night weeks ago. You guys couldn’t make a single goddamn dent in the cult’s firepower.”

“Shut up -!”

There’s the sound of wood splintering just as Mary May takes a step forward. He may have a concussion but he still has muscle memory. He snaps the zip tie as he hears a shot ring out. He doesn’t turn to see who the shooter is; he’s either going to get shot in the back or the head, and he’ll take being shot in the back if it means he gets to kill Mary May first. He grabs the barrel of her shotgun while she’s distracted, shoving it forward so the stock hits her directly in the nose. There’s the crunch that he’s become so accustomed to hearing in his few months here and a fountain of blood as she stumbles back in pain. He wobbles when he gets up but he uses that momentum to tackle her.

They hit the ground hard. There’s more shots, more bodies falling around them. The adrenaline drowns out everything that isn’t Mary May’s shocked and bloody face. Rook wraps his hands around her throat, putting all his weight behind it. She claws at his arms, long nails leaving aching grooves, and it’s hard to keep his grip with his hands slick with blood, but if this is the last thing he’ll have the opportunity to do, he’s going to make sure he finishes the job.

“You think you can kill me?” Rook demands, close enough to her face that her desperate gasping hits his lips. He feels Mary May’s windpipe cave under his palms. “The Guardian of the Father? The executor of his Will? You can’t fucking kill me!” He doesn’t realize he’s evolved into wordless, feral yelling until her arms stop trying to push him away and her body stills.

There’s a hand on Rook’s shoulder and he whips around, falling off Mary May’s body onto the floor, nauseated again. He looks up and there’s John, his messy hair haloed by the ceiling lights. It’s the closest he’s ever felt to seeing something holy in his life. If God is real, He brought them together for this specific moment.

“Rook, are you all right?”

“I think I have a concussion, maybe some bruised ribs.” Rook gestures vaguely at the body next to him. “Better than her though.”

John starts to help Rook up, supporting him when Rook stumbles to his knees and retches again. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you go to Nick goddamn Rye,” John says tersely.

“Lucky for us, the Resistance is short-sighted. If they had any sense, they would’ve killed me the second I was in their crosshairs.”

“They’ll never get the chance again.” John leads them out of the Spread Eagle and puts Rook into the passenger seat of a cult truck. “Jacob has found the Wolf's Den, Faith is closing in on the prison, and I am about to burn this place to the ground.”

Rook sees other cars around their own, cultists with absurd amounts of fire power hefting C4 and gasoline out of truck beds. Hearing that everything is falling into place all at once settles something within him. He makes a grab for John’s hand across the center console after John starts the engine. Blood transfers from Rook to John, looking black in the night. “Thank you. For saving me.”

“I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again,” John promises. He intertwines their fingers and squeezes once before letting go to get them back to the ranch. “There’s a doctor waiting for you. It was only supposed to be a precaution, but trouble always seems to find you.”

“Being the attack dog of a cult will do that,” Rook says. He means no malice when he says it, simply stating a fact. And he’s not mad about it; he’s accepted it as easily as he’s accepted every other new facet of his life as it’s come about. He wouldn't say he’s happy, because he doesn't know if his mind remembers what that’s even like anymore, but he’s something. Content, at the very least.

Injuries aside, it’s a pretty okay life.

#oc: jonah rook #far cry 5 #this is barely edited and i've never done one of these before but it was a lot of fun #be warned folks: this isn't a happy story for the resistance #my writing

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gaypasta · 5 years ago

Note

maybe 16 or 2 for reddie!

“Are you hurt?” “No.” “Then why are there bruises all over your face?”It wasn’t that Richie didn’t like being at home - he did. Maggie and Wentworth were great and all of the Losers were treated like an extension of the family whenever they would crowd into Richie’s living room with bowls of popcorn and a plethora of sugary snacks. The issue was the Richie didn’t really like being alone. He got antsy, he couldn’t concentrate and more often than not, couldn’t fall asleep.

It happened first, with Ben. Sweet Ben who couldn’t have kicked Richie out even if he wanted to when Richie knocked on his bedroom window of the bungalow and wormed his way into Ben’s bed and talked and talked until he’d talked out all of his energy and he passed out with Ben sat beside him wondering what the hell just happened.

Then it was Bill, when he was understimulated. Richie would pedal all the way to Bill’s, climb the tree, then hop onto the porch roof and then pull open Bill’s bedroom window - which was always a little open. Bill liked the fresh air. He would wake Bill up and they’d play video games or go for a walk or do anything to get Richie stimulated enough to be able to fall asleep without twitching in the bed like a live wire.

Then, Richie chanced it with Mike. An hour long bicycle ride later and he stumbled his way around the farm up to the house and shouted for Mike to let him in. Richie was mad. So mad. It was after the fight between him and Bill and he had thought it over and over and over again in his head until he wound himself up into a ball of rage and Mike brought him around all the animals with a flashlight in hand and let his anger dissipate.

Then it was Stan. After the sewers. They all had nightmares, sure. Richie could never get back to sleep. He hated sleeping alone. So, he hopped on his bike and made the trek to Stan’s. Stan didn’t sleep well after. He didn’t really sleep at all. His bedroom light was on and Stan opened the window when Richie climbed up onto the tree beside it as if Stan had been waiting for him. The nightmares bled out of his head and they both slept as Richie told Stan about how he didn’t want to be forgotten, how he didn’t want to fade from people’s memories like all those faded gravestones in the Cemetery and Stan told Richie all about what he saw in the Deadlights.

Richie would sit on the fire escape and tap Bev’s window out-of-view and she would open it some minutes later with her smokes and a pack of matches and they’ll talk about things. Beverly talks about Ben but no one knows what Richie talks about. Something important, probably.

Then, lastly, some months after the sewer, it was Eddie. Richie threw rocks up at Eddie’s window and Eddie asked him what he wanted, “Let me in, Eds. Open the front door,” And Eddie did. Richie’s face was red and puffy and his eyes were ringed much the same.

“Have you been crying?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah, I saw your Mom in the shower,” Richie replied, voice taut with sniffles.

“That’s frickin’ disgusting.”

“Yeah, it really was.”

Eddie knew something had happened - he wasn’t slow. He knew Richie didn’t go to Ben’s with tears in his eyes or sneak through Bill’s window with a sad, faraway look on his face. Eddie knew that if Richie wanted to talk about it, he would. But he wouldn’t want to talk about it - Richie breezes over difficult questions with clever quips and silly voices and Eddie pretends he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

So it went on like that. Every so often, Richie would throw a pebble at Eddie’s window and Eddie - without looking - would flutter downstairs and unlock the back door to a subdued Richie who would ruffle his hair with a sad, wet smile.

There had to be a line to how much Eddie would ignore. And one day, he found it.

It wasn’t nighttime, it was barely three in the afternoon when he heard a familiar thump on his bedroom window. Eddie opened it and shouted that the door was open, come on up. Eddie barely had time to put away the deck of cards he was playing with before Richie all but slammed open his door. He shot about two feet in the air. “Hey!”

“Sorry, I’ve been working out.”

“Jerking off doesn’t count,” Eddie said, putting his cards on his bedside locker, when Richie didn’t reply he took a look at him, but his head was low and he couldn’t see his face, “What’s wrong.”

“Nothing.”

“Richie.”

Richie sat down on the bed after kicking the door closed and flopped backwards, nearly collapsing onto Eddie’s lap. Eddie barely choked back his cry of shock when he saw the state of him. A smash of blood from his nose, exploded onto his Freese’s tee. His glasses cracked and warped and his eyes an angry shade of purple - visible even through the cracked coke-bottle glass. “Take a wild fuckin’ guess.”

“Bill finally had enough of you imitating his stutter?” Eddie joked, even as he moved forward to get a closer look.

“Nah,” He said, lifting his glasses off to clean them, but Eddie took them out of his hand and set them out of reach, “Asked your Mom to sit on my face.”

Eddie gave his cheek a light slap, “Beep-beep.” The more Eddie looked at Richie’s face, the worse it looked. His lip was busted open and he had scratches and gravel all up the side of his cheek, like roadburn. Richie didn’t meet his eyes as Eddie looked over him, but he did wince when Eddie brushed some of the gravel off of his cuts. The air was steady and Richie seemed content in sitting in silence, but Eddie couldn’t leave it there. He’d found his line and this was it. “Bowers?”

Richie stiffened under him, “Bowers didn’t sit on my face but thanks for that image.” Again with the deflection.

“Richie, I’m serious, okay - stop fucking about.”

“I didn’t come here for a fucking lecture!” Richie said suddenly, whipping himself up into a sitting position only to let out a wheeze of pain and fall straight back down with a groan, “I can’t move right now but emotionally I’m storming out and slamming the door,” Richie winced as he touched his nose and groaned in pain.

“So it was Bowers?” He didn’t quip back at Richie. It was no fun when he was rolling about in pain.

“Yes.” Richie’s voice was a little nasally and gurgled. He sat up a little and blood came trickling down his nose and into his mouth. Eddie wretched and threw a box of tissues at him. Richie got through about six before his nose stopped bleeding again.

“Are you hurt?”

Richie stared at him blankly, “No.”

“Then why are there bruises all over your face?”

“He loaded me with sedatives before he beat my shit into the pavement.”

Eddie huffed and shuffled towards Richie and tore the tissue from his nose, “Stop being an ass. I’m trying to help, Rich and I don’t need you running your mouth and being a sarcastic asshole when I’m doing it. Sit there, don’t touch anything or …. bleed on anything. I’m gonna go and get some stuff from the first aid kit.”

“Hey, Eds?” Richie piped up in a soft voice as Eddie was about to leave the room. The softness of his voice caught him off guard and he didn’t have the heart to tell him not to call him that.

“Yeah, Rich?”

“One of your tampons should fit up my nose, it’ll stop the bleeding, right?”

“No - but I could see if my knuckle will fit up your nose - want to find out?”“Nah,” Richie pointed at his nose - “Henry already tried.”

Eddie got the things he needed from the first aid kit and brought Richie into his bathroom and locked the door. Richie was sat on the toilet seat, with Eddie leaning over a little to get a good angle to dab at Richie’s nose with a wet wipe. The blue-ish tint from the fluorescent lighting of the bathroom only made Eddie’s gut fall, more than he had expected really. Maybe it was the sad look in Richie’s eyes, too. “Why did he do this?” Eddie muttered, not really a direct question, but one Richie answered nonetheless.

“Cause I’m a faggot,” The matter-of-fact way Richie said it made Eddie’s stomach lurch.

That word - or anything related to being gay, really - always set Eddie on edge, always made him paranoid and his hair stand up on the back of his neck. Like there was a monster standing behind him, breathing rotten breath on his neck that would unhinge its jaw and swallow him whole if he even thought about other boys. The tone that Richie said that threw him off enough to ask, “Are you?”

Richie looked from the wet wipe, covered in Richie’s blood, that Eddie had moved away from his face a little, to Eddie and back to the wet wipe, “No. It was a joke.”

Eddie caught Richie looking at his own blood and felt sick, “I don’t think gays have AIDs - I saw the way you were looking at me. Anyone can get it - I read all these journals about it and it’s a disease. It doesn’t pick who it infects. Did you see Princess Diana shook hands with a patient? It’s terrible, don’t get me wrong but it’s not as contageous as the news is saying, and it’s definately not a ‘homosexual disease’ and-”

“You think I’m gay?” Richie cut him off.

“I - no. I don’t. I wouldn’t care if you were, though, for the record. I wouldn’t care if any of the losers were,” Eddie said, words rushing into each other as he spoke quickly, moving back to dab at Richie’s nose. It was hard to concentrate with the way Richie was looking at him. Like he was examining him.

“Are you?” Eddie flinched like he’d been shot when Richie asked that and he didn’t mean to physically take a step back. He opened and closed his mouth but nothing could come out. Nothing will come out - he’s fuckin’ sure of that, “I wouldn’t care either, you know.”

“Okay.” Eddie forced out.

“Okay.” Richie said.

They both agonised in the silence. Both a little wild-eyed like hares in headlights at each other. Richie’s face was clean of blood now. His shirt was still ruined but he didn’t look quite like he’d just gotten out of a bar fight now. He looked a lot better. Richie always looked kinda good, Eddie thought. The thought always embarrassed him. Richie was a bit strange looking, with a short face and his awful glasses and giant teeth that Richie insists he’ll grow into, but Eddie could never help the way his stomach lit when Richie laughed - or even when Richie pinched his cheeks and called him cute.

Richie thought the same thing. With Eddie and the way he was so quick to rile up, going from placid to in a rage at the drop of a hat. The way Eddie, all five-foot-three of him, kicked a fucking demon clown square in the snotter. When Eddie got his cast re-done because he got his ruined in greywater and he asked Richie to help re-write the LOSER on it. Eds sure was cute. The cutest fuckin powerhouse in all of Derry.

“I am.” Richie said suddenly, like a bubble bursting and suddenly his world was bigger. No longer closed in on himself, “I’m gay.”

Eddie looked like he’d seen a ghost and the wet wipe fell from his hand, “Yeah. Yeah, uh - okay. Me too.”

Richie blew a huge sigh of relief. A massive weight off of his shoulders. Although, when he looked at Eddie he didn’t feel the same radiating off of him. Eddie looked like he was about to either cry or pull a Johnny Twango and go mad, “You okay?” Eddie shook his head, not lifting his eyes off of the bathroom floor, which had suddenly gotten very interesting, what craftsmanship.

Richie pulled Eddie’s hand into his own, “Scared?” Eddie nodded, “I’m scared too.” Eddie finally willed himself to pull his eyes off of the incredible craftsmanship of the bathroom tiles and met Richie’s eyes, soft and vulnerable, “Scared together?”

“Scared together.” Richie squeezed Eddie’s hand and Eddie squeezed back. Eddie’s eyes widened suddenly and his hands shot up to Richie’s face, Richie flinched and looked up in confusion, “Your nose is broken, I’m gonna set it,” Eddie said and pinched Richie’s nose - Richie’s eyes blew open and he voiced his distress but they were cut short before Richie had the chance to push Eddie away as a loud CRACK sounded out into the air.

“YOU PIECE OF SHIT - THAT FUCKING HURT.”

Eddie laughed and laughed and laughed before he wiped the tears from his eyes as Richie was still complaining and groaning in pain, “That’s payback for my arm, dipshit.”

#hehe fank you #THIS is the first time ive written reddie so be nice #REDDIE #*fic #Anonymous

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carol-effing-danvers · 5 years ago

Text

knock me the fuck out (i dare ya, babe), part three

this is final section in part one of the series “run long, roam far, return soon” part two: “where we grew up” part three: “push me, pull you”

(click here if you’d prefer to read this in AO3′s format)

part one, part two

Billy has no idea what the fuck Steve is talking about, and he has no interest in anything that’s not their mouths touching each other, anything that’s not Steve’s lips and Steve’s tongue and Steve’s hands.

There’s still some of that Old Billy left in him, a part of him that’s always a bit wild – a little blood in his eyes, a little fire in his heart – and it doesn’t usually require too much effort on his part to put that beast on a leash. But everything about his emotions goes out of control where Steve Harrington is involved.

Billy pushes him backward until he hits the wall, hands gripping his sides too tightly, and leans forward to drags his teeth across Steve’s bottom lip. Steve makes a soft sweet sound of startlement, and his hips jerk sharply. A thick hot ridge presses into Billy’s dick and holy shit that is actually Steve’s dick and he’s so big and so fucking hard.

A growl vibrates through his vocal cords and he pushes back hard, almost pinning Steve to the wall with his own hips, grinding against him with enough force to leave bruises on them both and pushing his tongue into his mouth with a wet slide. Steve makes a throaty provocative noise, a purring “mmm”, like he’s taken a bite of something really delicious, his fingers digging into Billy’s lower back to hold him there, blunt fingernails cutting gouges into his skin.

Again, they have to break away for air and Steve draws away with a gasped little “uh” that makes Billy feel so fucking dizzy with want, a string of saliva connecting their lips for just a second before Steve tilts his head back, red lips parted and throat bared as he gasps for breath. The temptation is too great for him – Billy traces over the beauty marks and creamy skin with kitten licks of the tongue, sinking back into his boyhood fantasy with relish, softly biting and sucking at every single one.

“Uhhh,” Steve moans under his breath, dragging his nails over his skin and pulling Billy’s erection into alignment with his own, and Billy is-Billy is gonna fucking explode-

"Ahem." There is a tiny cough, more of a pointed clearing of the throat than someone struggling through a late winter illness.

The two of them probably jump about a foot into the air, scrambling around to figure who had witnessed them trying to all but fuck in public. Buckley was looking amused and very pleased with herself. Outright gloating, she says "I see I won't be grading any quizzes next year."

Steve is blushing hard, hair wilder than ever and lips kiss-bitten, tenting out of the front of his pajama bottoms with an obscene bulge that Billy needs to get his hands and his mouth on. "I-that-you-"

Robin hands him her purse, with a smug smirk. "Here, cover that before someone calls the cops on us," she says, hazel eyes dancing with laughter. "I told you he wouldn't hit you in the face. I can't believe the two of you had a crush on each other and it took you ten years to figure it out."

Billy whirls on Steve. "You-you had a crush on me, pretty boy?"

Under normal circumstances, he'd be embarrassed by the way his voice cracks, like an acne-ridden boy, but this is an urgent question demanding an urgent answer.

"You didn't tell him?" Robin laughs. "Oh, Steve. Honey, you can't let your dick do the talking for you."

"I disagree,” Billy says bluntly, eyes darting over his crotch – currently (tragically) hidden behind Robin’s purse.

“Of course you do,” she says in a tone of humoring him, still far too entertained and smug. “Seriously, Steve. You can’t manage one adult conversation?”

Even more flustered – my god, that pale skin gets so red – “I thought he was gonna clock me, I wasn’t about to have a heart to heart!”

“Why the hell did you kiss me if you thought I was gonna deck you?” Billy demands, skin crawling with the discomfort of old longing and older shame.

Steve shrugs rather helplessly, a very dissatisfactory answer.

“He likes to flirt with danger,” Robin informs Billy grimly, giving Steve something of a gimlet stare. “He’s addicted to risk.”

“Rob!” he yelps, looking harassed.

“Steve!” she mocks. “I’m literally gonna get old and die before you talk about your feelings! Hargrove, Steve-o had a big gay crush on you in high school-”

“Oh my god,” Steve moans, covering his face with his hands.

“Can I safely assume that you also had the hots for my man Steve-o at the time?”

“Uh…sort of, yeah,” Billy mumbles, shocked into near honesty.

She gives Steve a pointed stare. "I draw the line at asking him out for you, dingus."

Wild, terrifying hope surges in Billy. "You wanna go out with me?"

Steve's big dumb doe eyes are directed at the checked linoleum floor. "You-you don't," he mumbles. "The whole town knows I'm a queer, Hargrove. You don't wanna go anywhere in public with me."

"Don't," he says softly, dangerously, boxing him in against the wall with a hand planted beside his head. "Don't tell me I want. No one tells me what I do with my time."

No one tells me what to do.

"If I say I want a date with you, I mean it." He's throwing himself off a metaphorical cliff here, but the memory of Steve Harrington's face has haunted him for ten years. After knowing his lips and tasting his skin, Billy's sure it will haunt him for thirty more if right now he does nothing. If after all that time, he has a real shot and throws it away because he'd rather stay closeted, if only in Hawkins, then he is nothing more than the scared boy still wilting under Neil Hargrove's control.

Robin, he sees from the corner of his eye, looks almost impressed.

There's a sweet, reluctant little smile tugging at Steve's lips. "Yeah?" With a bit of cheek, a bit of a flirtatious air, he tugs on Billy's button-down shirt. "Can I cook you dinner?"

His brows shoot upward. "Can you actually cook, pretty boy?"

"Say yes, Hargrove," Robin sighs. "If only so I don't have to watch him mope for the next ten years. Even if you don't bone, which is unlikely since Steve is a whore (“Jesus Christ, Rob!”), it’ll probably be the best meal you’ll ever eat in your life. Steve can cook his ass off."

"Wrong choice of words," Steve says dryly.

"Is it, though?" she counters. "If you play 'Hot for Teacher', I'm never speaking to you again."

"Shit, there goes that plan," Steve deadpans.

Billy grins, tongue held between his teeth. These two are great, he feels like he’s watching Frasier, but gayer and with swearing. "The two of you oughta think about getting your own sitcom."

"Saved By the Bell?" Robin suggests tartly. "Unmarried with Children? Friends But Gay?"

"Queers," Billy shoots back. "Like Cheers, Buckley, c'mon now."

"Hey, that's not bad," Steve says brightly. Then, shyer and quieter: "Do you like Italian?"

"The sky's still blue ain't it?" he answers, feeling his stomach do an anxious little flutter.

"Last I checked. Meet me after school this Friday, and be hungry."

Billy feels more daring, more confident, so he lets his eyes traveling up Steve's body. Sex hair, red lips, bright eyes, and a beard rash from Billy all over that snow white skin. "That ain't gonna be a problem."

Steve smiles at him, like he's charmed, like Billy's just charmed him.

Billy wants to take a time machine, go back eleven years into the past and shake himself so goddamn hard. "Just wait!" He wants to scream in his 17 year old self’s face. "Don’t take it out on him, for fuck’s sake!! All you have to fucking do is WAIT!!"

But he can't do that, and he ends up standing in the store, dumb-struck, when Steve kisses him, fast and hungry, and Robin pulls him out the door.

El watches him at the kitchen door, grinning from ear to ear, looking like a cat that just ate a whole goddamn flock of canaries. "All right you little shit. You win."

"He likes you," she says, looking entirely enamored of this new development. "He really likes you."

Billy's heart goes double-time and his stomach flips all the way over.

Ellie grins even wider. Her chins rests on her fist and she gives one of her excited little wriggles, like a puppy whose seen her favorite person. “You should bring him flowers when you see him tonight.”

He makes a face. “You don’t think it’s too corny?”

“Steve is a romantic,” El coos. “He’ll appreciate the extra effort. And you think he’s worth extra effort, don’t you?”

“Well yeah!” he blurts out, and El’s face is terrifying. Jesus, she looks like a shark when she smiles that way, and Billy realizes that he’s been caught, yet again, havin’ feelings and shit. “I don’t wanna look like I’m coming on too strong. That shit makes some people nervous, you know?”

“Yes,” Eleven agrees solemnly, folding her hands together.

Billy looks at her sharply. “Yeah? What about you, Ellie? You and Max are out here trying to get me dates – you talked to any boy since you and Wheeler broke up?”

She stiffens, fidgeting slightly. “It’s-you know, it’s just more-more difficult because-” El touches the watch over her wrist, worn to conceal the serial number tattooed there. “And the town still think I’m a weirdo, and some of them don’t like me because I’m one of Joyce’s kids, and all of us love Steve. I really only talk to the-the Party-?”

She’s talking very, very fast and she’s tripping over her words and that’s how Billy knows that he’s stumbled upon something that El’s been holding close to her heart. “The Party, eh? Some nerd you-” and he’s falling into a trap but he still can’t see it yet “-got your eye on?”

Immediately after the words come out of his mouth, Billy realizes the black hole that he’s just opened up. The losers who fell into the weirdness of the Upside Down were not a large number. Wheeler, whose relationship with Ellie is over. Byers, who might actually be queerer than Billy himself. Sinclair, who still makes eyes at Max when her back is turned. And-

“Henderson?!” he demands incredulously. “Do you have a crush on Henderson?!”

Eleven, his poor Ellie, fiddles with her apron and stares at a point over his shoulder instead of looking him in the eyes. “I-I didn’t say that. I never said that.”

Oh, poor girl. She doesn’t even have to. El’s face is starting to look blotchy, like she might burst into frustrated tears. “El,” he says gently. “Ellie, any one of the nerd-herd would trip over themselves face-first for you. Ask the boy out – he’s gonna say yes and thank sweet Jesus for the chance.”

Looking outright miserable now, El says “I can’t.” No, she doesn’t just look miserable, she looks like she might be sick. “I’m-I haven’t-I don’t-”

Billy doesn’t really understand what she’s trying to tell him until El gestures at her lower body, quickly swiping angry tears from her eyes. “Oh,” he says, though he can hardly fathom it. “That’s-that ain’t that big a deal.”

“Do you know any other twenty-four year old virgins?” she snaps, flushed with shamed anger.

“Probably Henderson too?” he jokes, then feels like shit when her lower lip wobbles. “That doesn’t matter! Do you…want to?”

“I-I wasn’t ready. And now it’s probably too late. He’s had like ten girlfriends!” El wails, blotting her face again. “They’ve all been really smart and pretty, Billy!”

“Baby,” he soothes, heart breaking for her as he folds her into a hug. “You’re smart and pretty. And I need you to know that if he does anything to hurt you, I’ll take a psychotic level of pleasure in destroying everything he loves.”

A laugh escapes her, thin and watery. “Bitchin’.”

---

"Oh my god," Steve says on way back to the car. "Robin-"

"I know."

"He fucking said yes, Rob-"

"I know."

"I'm making him dinner."

"Mhm."

"Oh my god, what am I gonna do? I'm-I'm gonna fuck this up, Rob, I-" He pauses, taking in the look on her face. Robin is staring at him serenely, brows pitched slightly upwards. "I'm being an idiot again, aren't I?"

"Only a tiny one," she says, with great loyalty.

"Hurry up, I need to clean everything I own twice." Again, when he's sitting in the driver's seat, staring with blank disbelief out the front windshield. "He said he likes me."

"Yeah, babe," Robin says gently, reaching over to squeeze his hand. "He did."

This she won't make fun of. Whom Steve loves, he loves without caution, holding nothing back for himself, and with every expectation that his affection will be spat on and thrown back at him. It was heartbreaking to watch, and she'd seen it happen too many times.

Trying to keep him from stumbling into a pit of his own anxiety and insecurity, Robin asks "So...is he a good kisser?"

Steve's face floods with heat and he breaks out into this goofy adorable grin. "Such a good kisser, Rob."

She smirks. "It sounded like you were being mauled by a wild animal."

Dreamily, Steve says "His lips taste like strawberry jam and he smells like a bonfire in a forest of pine trees. He can maul me any time he wants to."

"Oh, he wants," Robin drawls with laughter in her voice. "Trust me, he wants.”

He spends nearly a week randomly flooded with giddy anticipation and nervousness but by the time Friday actually rolls around, he kinda…forgets? It’s not that he forgot he and Billy have a date, it’s that when the actual agreed upon time comes around, Steve is a bit too distracted to notice.

---

Billy isn’t dumb enough to bring the flowers with him – there’s forward and then there’s forward, y’know?

Rather than being in his classroom, Billy is stopped short just before he turns the hallway down to the primary kids section when he hears Steve’s voice, quiet and very serious. “Why did you hit him?”

“He-he said I was stupid!” a little boy says, with all the blind impulsive fury of a small child. “Him and Hannah wo-wouldn’t play with me!”

Completely surprising him, Steve solemnly asks “So Denny hurt your feelings?”

A quiet sniffing, and then a mumbled “Uh-huh.”

“That’s wasn’t very nice of him to say, Martin,” he says sympathetically. “Do you want a ‘feel better’ hug?”

Even quieter, like he was scared to say it out loud: “Uh-huh.”

And when Billy peeks around the corner, Steve is crouched on the ground, hugging Martin Roberts as he snuffles into his shoulder. Billy is having an emotion, and it’s A Big One, even if he doesn’t quite understand what that emotion is.

“Do you feel ready to say sorry to Denny for hitting him, and he can say sorry for hurting your feelings like that?”

“Yeah.” Martin does sound much calmer, actually.

Steve stands and spots him, gives Billy a small smile, like he hasn’t just broken his brain a little bit. “Sorry I’m running a bit late.”

“Take your time,” Billy says, thunderstruck.

He wonders what would’ve happened, what his life would’ve been like if one of his teachers had been even half as patient and understanding as that with him.

---

Billy says "Go ahead and unlock the door, I left something in my car."

Angie is his living doorbell, so as soon as Billy returns and opens the door, she's right there, wailing in her usual piteous manner. Steve already assembled the sauce for dinner, it just needs to be warmed up and the fresh pasta boiled to tender.

"Who is this?" Billy asks, amused.

"That's Angie. Pet her - she expects to be greeted at the door and she won't leave you alone until you do." Steve goes out to the hall and stares, owl-eyed.

In one arm, Billy has Angie who looks very smug at having seduced Steve’s man, and in the other- Dumbly, Steve asks “Did you buy me flowers?”

“Uh…” Billy says, uncharacteristically bashful. He lets Angie drop back to the floor with a heavy thump. “…yes?”

He could tease him – ‘is that a question or an answer?’ – the problem is that he’s stumbled and fallen face-first into a giant pile of infatuation. “They’re beautiful,” he breathes, eyes wide, tentatively reaching out to lightly brush his fingers over the petals. Billy bought him red carnations. Not quite as obvious as red roses and somehow both lurid and innocent. “Let me find something to put them in.”

He leans forward with head tilted, hand around the collar of Billy’s shirt, and gets halfway to kissing him when he realizes that this is maybe overplaying his hand. But like…Billy Hargrove bought him flowers? Fuck it, I’m gonna kiss him.

Gently, he presses their lips together and Billy let out a sweet little sigh, slipping his fingers through Steve’s belt loops to pull him closer. His mouth is soft, full, velvety, and discovering it again is so delicious that Steve gets lost in him. Billy licks his lips as they part. "Still having Italian, I see."

Steve blushes. "Uh, yeah." Quickly, he scrambles away with flowers in hand before he can do something incredibly dumb and classy like offer to make himself the first course. "Hope you're hungry."

"In many ways," Billy replies huskily, eyes shamelessly undressing Steve right there in the kitchen.

So maybe he preens a little. So maybe he bends over a little too long as he grabs a vase from beneath a sink. It's been such a long time, he thinks wistfully, since someone wanted him in such an open, brazen way. He gets laid...well, not often but not never, either. But that’s quick, hurried fumbling in a bar bathroom of the next town over or fast hand jobs in dark places.

He doesn't get a bed, or lots of kissing, or arms to hold him afterwards. He doesn't get the next morning or lazy sex in the sunlight. Women think he's gay and men are scared shitless to be seen talking to him longer than ten minutes. He gets scraps and has to be happy with it because up until now, he understood that was the best he could hope for after being outed in a small town.

"You're a little cocktease," Billy rasps, eyes fixed rather desperately to the way his dark jeans are hugging Steve's ass.

"Can you blame me?" Steve asks with a smirk over his shoulder, letting Billy look his fill. "Spent a year watching you strut around without a shirt on, sweating and pushing me around. And I was such a dumbass, it took me a whole year after that to figure out why I was half-hard every time I saw you walk onto the court."

"Yeah?" Billy purrs. Oh, maybe Steve shouldn't be giving shit like that out. Too much ammunition. "Did I have you chubbing up your shorts?"

Steve rolls his eyes. He's sure that to Billy, he must've seemed terribly obvious. The hopeless bisexual disaster with his tenting shorts, either unable to figure out what he wanted or without the guts to do something about it. "You know you did."

"No," Billy replies quietly, with much more seriousness. "I didn't know."

Steve pauses to fill the vase. "...that wasn't why you were teasing me?"

"No. I teased ya because I wanted the prettiest boy in school to pay attention to me," he admits, an almost helpless note to his voice, looking genuinely pained.

Startled, Steve says "Okay, but I wasn't actually the best looking guy in-"

"My frigid ice princess, he froze me out in every direction, no matter how I pushed him. And when he wouldn’t give me what I wanted, I hurt him." Billy closes his eyes, as though the memory makes him sick, even now.

“I’m not cold,” Steve says quietly, setting the vase filled with lushly blooming carnations on the counter, and watches him practically do a double-take.

“That’s what you chose to take away from that?!” he demands.

Coldness reminds him too much of his parents. Looking at Billy through his lashes, Steve says “You already apologized for that years ago. But I resent being called frigid. I’m not cold.”

My frigid ice princess. He refuses to accept being called cold. But he doesn’t refuse being called Billy’s.

Billy’s stare is piercing and he lifts a hand to draw a rough thumb over Steve’s lower lip. “No,” he rumbles. “You ain’t, are you?”

Billy has always possessed this weird (well, it seemed less weird after he figured out he was attracted to him) magnetism for him, this force that draws Steve in. Time has not diminished that force.

Again, he pulls Billy in by the collar, their tongues curling around each other, and Steve gasps “I have to finish dinner!” with a ragged voice, even though his arms are still around Billy’s shoulders.

“Hurry,” he says in a soft burr, beard scraping over Steve’s neck as he nuzzles into him and sending a hot crackle of sexual tension through him.

“Who is a cocktease?” he demands weakly.

“Oh, I definitely am,” Billy says with a wicked smile. A daring hand cups the full expanse of one buttock and gives Steve a possessive squeeze. “Better feed me good – gotta keep my energy up.”

“Oh my god,” Steve says, face flushed as he turns back to the sauce on the stove. “You’re awfully sure of yourself.”

“If you wanna play hard to get, I don’t mind a game of cat and mouse,” he says with a smile that’s positively predatory. “But to be honest, I don’t think you have that kinda patience in you, Harrington.”

Steve salts the boiling water and throws Billy his most heavy-lidded flirtatious smile. Subconsciously, he mimics Billy’s lip-licking motion. “If you wanna get in my pants, you’d better learn to say ‘Steve’.

Billy strokes his beard, letting him see the heat in his eyes. “Stevie,” he husks, his stare consuming Steve’s whole body like a physical touch. “Stevie-baby. Darlin’.”

He has to make himself keep focusing on cooking because he knows that if turns around right now, all this work will have gone to waste. “Make yourself useful,” he says hoarsely. “And grab the bottle of wine from the fridge.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” he drawls, brows raised. “Holy shit, Steve. If the kids make you drink this much you might wanna consider a new line of work.”

“Most of those are nearly empty,” he says, rolling his eyes. The corner of Steve’s mouth lifts and he adds, “The kids are fine. It’s some of the parents I can’t stand.”

He sets his vase of carnations on the end table beside the sofa where they can be admired, and wonders if Billy’s already noticed that next door, Melanie Dohr’s class has twenty-four children but his classroom only has sixteen. Several parents were so outraged that he was hired on for the kindergarteners that they outright refused to allow their kids to set foot in his classroom.

Maxine van Haut had been one of only two parents to actually volunteer, in public, to put her daughter in his care. To his utter surprise and disbelief, his old classmate and former friend Carol Bainbridge had been the other parent.

Billy watches him drop nests of fresh pasta dough into the boiling water with fascination. Steve counts to thirty in his head before scoops the noodles, just underdone, from the water and into the sauces, adding a knob of butter before he lets the tomato, cream, and herbs meld together.

“How did you learn to do this?” Billy asks, as he adds a pinch of red pepper flakes and begins plating their pasta.

“Um…well, after my parents basically told me not to bother going back to their house ever again, I was sad and when you’re sad, you eat a lot. I became obsessed with making the most complicated, ridiculous things I could find. If I was focused on the food, I didn’t have to focus on why I was making it,” Steve says lightly.

He realizes too late that he’s probably oversharing. He does that a lot when he likes someone – Robin calls it his ‘Achilles heel’, whatever the hell that means. She says that once he’s attached to someone, he can’t let them go, even when it hurts, which is why Rob and Nance are still his friends. He doesn’t see the problem really. Who couldn’t use another friend? So it hurts for a little while, he still gets the rich reward of a friend forever.

“After I figured out how to make things that would break my brain, I started focusing on how to make them delicious. On that note: please don’t ever say the word ‘barbecue’ around Rob, that’s a ten hour lecture nobody needs to hear again, even though I only gave myself food poisoning.”

“You…gave yourself food poisoning?” Billy asks slowly, eyeing their plates.

“Yeah, who would’ve thought that grilling and drinking don’t mix.” Steve shrugs and grins. “Grab the wine and the glasses, I’ll get the plates.”

Steve has a reasonable level of confidence regarding his own skill. He still blushes to what he’s positive is probably a firetruck red when Billy takes his first bite and makes a noise that’s more suited to a man receiving a blow job than a man eating a meal. He whispers, “Holy fuck, Harrington”, eyes closed in reverential bliss. The rings on Billy’s fingers gleam, silver and gold and ruby, as he holds his knuckles to his mouth, as though he’s tasting divinity.

Steve grins at his fork. For a while, there’s no talking because Billy has zero interest in anything that’s not this meal.

They actually make conversation like real ass adults, which he will tell Robin about later because she’ll be proud of him for that.

It takes them until the end of dinner, laying back on the sofa and trying to not die because they are both full, that they get to a topic deeper than day to day activities. Because it’s sort of the elephant in the room with them, Steve decides to break the taboo and says “So…where did you go, when you left town back then? Max told us she thought you went back home to see your mom.”

It maybe wasn’t the thing to say, because for a moment, Billy’s eyes look flinty and cold. “No,” he says finally. “I never stayed in Bakersfield for too long. I only went to see her once. She-the way she saw the world was one way, and the way I saw it was another way, I guess.”

Steve’s nose wrinkles. “What does that mean?”

Billy’s jaw tightens. “It means that when you’re on your second marriage with a six-year-old kid at home and your first son shows up on your doorstep as a wild-eyed man fresh outta the hospital, you’re gonna call him a raving lunatic, slam the door in his face, and threaten to call the cops if he doesn’t leave you alone.”

Steve’s spine goes rigid. “Oh god, I’m so sorry,” Steve blurts out. “Jesus, she sounds like a shitty parent. I mean, mine aren’t a whole lot better, but they wouldn’t call the cops on me.”

Billy shrugs, though he can see the shadow of old pain in his eyes. He takes a sip of wine, probably to steady his nerves, before commenting, “Yeah, Max told me why you probably won’t run for mayor anytime soon.” Reflexively, Steve grimaces and Billy chuckles slightly. “Kinda sorry I wasn’t here for that.”

“For my public humiliation?” he says, trying to ride the fine line between bitterness and black humor.

“For your ‘awakening’,” Billy purrs. He’s looking at Steve’s neck the way Steve imagines lions stare at the necks of gazelle on the savannah. “I’m not the picture of class and taste, but I’m pretty sure I coulda gave you better than a coat closet.”

Steve can’t quite bring himself to look at him directly. “You were there for it, in a way. You were the reason that I realized I wasn’t completely straight.” It’s his turn to reach for the wineglass. “You raced out of Hawkins, and I realized that I had a meteor-sized crush on a boy I was never going to see again, and the last time I had seen him, he was dying in front of me.”

Even now, with Billy right in front of him, he can’t hold that memory too closely or he’ll just start bawling. It’s probably tied with his mother telling him Steve needs to stay with Robin and leave his keys for his most painful memory.

Keeping his head down, Steve adds “And I maybe didn’t deal with that too well, so after that was a series of really terrible decisions Rob is too nice to blab to other people about, but will never let me live down in private, all neatly wrapped up with outing myself to the whole town.”

Billy is very quiet and it takes a moment for him to gather the courage to look at him. Billy’s stare has become penetrating, and unwavering. Lowly, he says “Maybe we dodged a bullet with me leaving, then.” He smiles grimly. “Cause the person I used to be wouldn’t have been too nice about knowing you were willing to suck a dick and the dick wasn’t mine, Harrington. And I don’t just mean not nice to you. I woulda made the whole fucking town pay for that.”

Trying to hide his nervousness, Steve rests a hand on his elbow and sips from his glass. “I’m not exactly inexperienced, you know. What does the person you are now think about that?”

“I think…that I don’t really care what you’ve done before,” Billy says slowly. “Or who you’ve done it with.”

“I’m sensing a ‘but’ at the end of that sentence,” Steve observes.

“If you’re the kind of person who gets bored with having the same partner, you might wanna cut this short,” he informs him bluntly. “I don’t like sharing, and I try to be a better person than I was, but I’m not about to tell you I’m not a jealous possessive bastard, because I’m never gonna lie to you. I am.”

He leaves his glass on the table. “I’m pretty sure there’s this saying, ‘only boring people get bored’.” Steve leans his head back into cushions, feeling full and sluggish and maybe a little bit horny. He skims his fingers slowly up Billy’s thigh. “If you don’t wanna get bored, you have to put in the work.”

“Yeah?” Steve is transfixed by the way Billy’s tongue curls around his teeth. Teasingly, Billy says “You gonna work for it, baby?”

Steve kneads the muscle in his thigh, thick and warm beneath the denim, and feels heat begin to coil in his belly. “I think…you should let me worry about that,” he murmurs, tracing his thumb up the inner seam of his jeans. Billy’s breathing stutters and he smiles, slow and satisfied. “And relax.”

He swings a leg over Billy, settling on his lap and leaning in for a kiss as he unzips his jeans. Billy breathes “Shit” against his lips and starts unbuckling Steve’s belt.

Steve’s pants end up thrown over an arm of the sofa, where they’ll probably end up covered in black cat hair, and he opens the fly of Billy’s jeans so that their dicks only have two thin layers between them instead of four. It’s been too long and Steve moans “fuck” as he settles back down onto his lap. He can feel Billy pulsing, the wet spot forming in his boxers and Steve pants, open-mouthed as he grinds down, slow and lazy.

“No, c’mon,” Billy says raggedly, pulling at the buttons on his shirt. “Don’t just gimme half a show, baby. Let me see that body.”

Steve helps him, flipping his tie off and sending it to hang out with his slacks, and pulling his cardigan over his head. He knows when Billy notices what’s beneath the linen when his hands skim up Steve’s chest and pluck at his nipples, gently tugging at the medical grade steel embedded in his skin. “Oh, you’ve got goodies,” Billy groans, mouthing over the fabric. Steve hisses and arches up to meet the touch, lightly pulling at his dirty blond hair. “Naughty Stevie, trying to hide his goodies from me – oh. Baby, you are all grown up.”

“I shaved,” Steve chokes out, throwing his shirt to the side and trying to steer Billy’s mouth – his teeth, especially – back to his nipples. Billy strokes the dark thatch of hair on his chest, tantalizingly close to where he wants him. “In high school, I shaved it. I thought it was weird, how much I had.”

“Hmm,” Billy purrs thoughtfully, rubbing his face in it. Steve moans and squirms as the much rougher hair of his beard scraps and catches on the permanently sensitive skin. “Think I like it.”

“You,” Steve starts, hoarse and cracked, then swallows and tries again. He wants Billy, wants his sweat and skin and heat, wants all those things he never usually gets. “Yours too, Billy.”

“It ain’t pretty, Steve,” he warns.

“Do you really think that’s worse than watching it happen?” he whispers, pulling Billy in for a kiss, deep and intense. “It’s alright, c’mon.”

There are large scars, thick and deep and silvery, all across Billy’s chest and stomach, places where the Mindflayer tried to kebab him. Steve runs his hands across all of it – the scarred and the unblemished, the ugly and the statuesque – and bends to kiss him everywhere. None of it surprises him, and to him, it’s both terrible and miraculous. Every piece of logic in the universe says that Billy Hargrove should have died that day, and yet, here he is, warm and shuddering beneath Steve’s hands.

“I didn’t know why,” he continues at a whispers. “I didn’t understand why I had a hard time looking away from you. I remember watching the way the sweat dripped off you on the court.” He hums and traces a hand down Billy’s chest, over the muscles and scars, the same path of the sweat in his mind’s eye. “I was so stupid – I thought I was jealous of your looks. Nobody says that men look ‘beautiful’. But you were, and you still are.”

“Don’t need to sweet talk me,” Billy murmurs, nosing at his jaw. He pets at Steve’s hair, hand caressing all the way down his spine. “I’m a sure thing, sweetheart.”

“What if I just want to?” Steve says with a smile, bangs hanging into his eyes. “What if I think you need someone to be nice to you?”

“Is that what you think?” Billy asks, and plucks a flower from the vase. “Maybe I think that’s what you need, too.”

Gently, he uses the petals to trace the shape of Steve’s lips, his knuckles brushing the shape of his cock through his briefs. Breathlessly, he gasps “Billy Hargrove is a romantic. Stop the presses! Breaking news!”

“No one will ever believe you,” he says sweetly, clamping the stem between his teeth. “I’ve committed the perfect crime.”

He hauls himself and Steve from the couch, cackling as Steve yells and clutches onto his shoulders. He prays that Billy is as strong as he looks. “Turn left!” he yelps. “Bedroom is the last door.”

As soon as they are safely on the bed and Billy is no longer trying to bear both of their weight, Steve snatches the flower from his mouth to kiss him.

“You’re a madman,” he says with admiration, caressing his cheek with the petals.

“I’ve met Wheeler, you’re deeply attracted to the mentally disturbed,” he accuses, plucking at Steve’s piercings to make him squirm.

Billy draws his teeth lightly over his left nipple. “Yeah, like that.” Tugging gently on his hair and pushing his ass down on Billy’s cock, his limp fingers surrender the carnation back to him. The petals feel like velvet against his ultra-sensitive nipples and Steve chokes down his whines. “Bite them, please. Billy.”

He’s leaking all over his underwear, dick jumping and twitching with each little nip and sharp bite, mindlessly frotting with him, and Billy squeezes at his ass, rolls up his hips to meet him. “Fuck, you’re big.”

“I thought you’d want to top,” he gasps. “I don’t mind.”

He hums and looks up at Steve through his impossibly long lashes. His eyes are dark and glittering. “Maybe I just want to do this. Maybe I just want to see you fall apart on top of me.”

That flower – he’s still holding the carnation, uses the scarlet petals to paint a path down over his stomach, and swirls it over the wet patch of fabric where the head of his cock is trapped by the fabric. “Your hands,” he pleads, pulling lightly at his hair again, guiding his other hand, calloused and covered in rings, into his lap. “God, you have such beautiful hands, Billy.”

Billy gets his palm around Steve’s length and grunts as Steve turns his head and tugs on his earlobe with his teeth. “Imagine me jerking you off, like this?” he rumbles, rough skin grating over Steve’s cock. “Huh, baby? You think about me in the dark, when you were alone? Did you think about my hands?”

“Your hands,” Steve rasps, and kisses him softly. He can’t get his fill of Billy’s skin, rough, silky, smooth, and everything in between. “The way a cigarette looked in your mouth. You pressed up against my back. Sweat running down your body and Billy, how much I wanted to touch you-”

Billy cuts him off with a low groan, biting at Steve’s lower lip and abandoning the carnation to give his nipple a cruel twist, grinning against his mouth as Steve convulses. “I dreamed ‘a you, Stevie. I dreamed of your big heartbreaker’s eyes and your pretty lips.” He touches his neck and Steve realizes that he’s tracing the moles all over his skin. “I thought about the noises you’d make if I kissed you here. How you’d sound when you came. For me.”

“I’m gonna,” Steve croaks, sucking at Billy’s tongue. Imagining that he’s sucking something else. He’s sounded in the pine and bonfire smell of him, and his thighs shake around Billy’s hips.

“How you’d taste,” Billy growls, and Steve can taste him, the strawberry jam sweetness of him, and he could cry. “Don’t leave me waitin’ for it, Stevie.”

“Fuck, oh fuck,” he cries, trembling hard.

“Let me hear it.”

And Steve sobs “Billy. Don’t stop, Billy.”

“I got you, Stevie-baby.”

His body is liquid fire in Billy’s hands, fluid and burning ember-bright. Billy keeps kissing him, frantic and hungry, even while Steve is out of breath, and he doesn’t realize why until Billy starts squirming out his jeans and underwear and starts jerking himself off harshly, still kissing at Steve’s neck.

“Stop,” he slurs, and rolls on top of him, pinning Billy’s arms to the bed.

“Steve,” he whines. “Don’t be a brat. Just-”

“Let me do it, baby,” Steve murmurs, stroking his belly and throwing his best bedroom eyes. He strokes his hands up Billy’s thighs for extra insurance and licks his lips. “Let me get you there, Billy.”

“Fuck,” Billy whispers hoarsely, briefly closing his eyes. “Okay. Yeah.”

Just because he’s gonna do it doesn’t mean he’s gonna make it easy.

Lazily, Steve French kisses his way down Billy’s chest, treating the scarred skin the same as the silky-smooth muscles, taking his time to lick down his body, letting himself taste the salt and musk. He by-passes Billy’s cock, weeping all over his stomach, only stopping to lap up the little pool forming above the head.

“Steve,” Billy hisses. “Jesus fuck – PLEASE.”

He sucks hard on his inner thighs, biting at him until it will bruise. “I’ve thought of this so many times,” he admits, gently pressing his thumb beneath his balls, brushing his other fingers so achingly close to his cock. Billy nearly jack-knifes off the mattress, swearing at his as his fists pull on the sheets. “And it’s better than anything I could’ve imagined.”

“I wondered what you’d do,” he murmurs, kissing just alongside his cock. “If I was on my knees for you.”

“I’m gonna fucking die,” Billy gasps, touching his hair, stroking it away from his face. “Steve-”

He makes sure he’s watching, makes sure Billy’s eyes are open as he circles his fingers around him and s l i d e s his cock, hot and wet with precum, past his lips. He hums and groans at the velvety heat in his mouth and Billy bucks the tiniest bit, moaning like a dying man as his dick rubs over the silky slickness of his tongue.

“Steve,” he says, weak and reedy, “…sweetheart…”

He hollows his cheeks and groans again, giving Billy a come-hither stare. Billy’s head falls back onto the pillow, crimson lips parted as he pants, loud and desperate. Oh, Steve likes him this way. Billy’s beautiful. He’s always been beautiful, but he’s worn into this beauty, like the softest cotton shirt in the drawer.

Steve sucks him, slurping and sloppy and wet, presses his fingers ruthlessly to Billy’s perineum.

“FUCK,” he roars and grips Steve’s hair just this side of too tight. Shoves up into his mouth, always just shy of choking him, and begs softly. “Take me, gorgeous. Fuck, like that. Gonna come, Stevie, gonna come for your hot mouth-

He screams without making noise and Steve licks him clean, flicking the jizz from his lips like a cat licking cream.

“Jesus Christ.” Billy says, still breathing hard. “Stevie, you’re worth waiting ten years for.”

#harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #knock me out babe #teacher steve #soft billy

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squidpro-quo · 5 years ago

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Murphy’s Law

AN: For @sup-poki and @mintchocolateleaves‘s emogust, I admit I’ve had this idea floating (pun intended, :P) around for a while, and it might not fit the prompt exactly but I thought it would be fun to write

KID cursed as he tripped down the stairs, narrowly missing the officer grabbing for him and landing flat on his ass at the bottom with a sizable bruise lined up for viewing bright and early tomorrow. He got to his feet with a wince, feeling less steady on his feet and like his shoes weren’t quite touching the ground the right way. On top of this disaster of a heist, he was probably sporting a concussion now as his prize for the night, instead of the mystical Emerald of Elevation that he’d only barely been able to touch before the police had arrived.

His cape had caught under his foot when he stepped back from the squad and he’d almost choked at the sudden yank, only barely managing to keep his balance while the police swarmed in. It had been a close call after close call, stumbling and staggering around every officer’s lunging attempts to catch him while wondering how he was ever going to save face after the night was over and Inspector Nakamori had seen him do a nose-dive while dodging another of his policemen.

If he’d been more of a believer in Akako’s mumbo-jumbo, he’d almost have thought his cape was conspiring against him. It caught around his ankles, flew into his face and obscured his view of his attackers more than once and tangled around his arms the first time he tried to run for the vents. He’d never had any problems with it before, it was usually almost like an extension of himself, his magician’s veil to cover any and all tricks he performed in front of his hostile audience. It was betraying him now, and the treachery was rather disheartening to realize. His own flowing cape, the signature of his exits and the dramatic base that provided all his moments of excessive flare, was now his worst enemy.

None of his usual tricks had worked either. The smoke-bombs went awry and he’d gone down coughing with the rest when his aim was off, managing to spot the vent he needed to leave in and crawling in with tears streaming down his face and ruining the makeup he’d applied for the night. The escape route had been cut off too and he’d had to leave the ducts to find another way to the roof. So much for tonight’s grand plans, he was just going to have to turn tail and run away, the Magician under the Moonlight reduced to a runny nose and ducking around corners to avoid getting spotted.

One more floor, he could make one more floor and if his horrible, damned luck would just stop messing him up for five minutes, he’d make a clean getaway on the glider. All it took was five minutes without a mishap, that was all he needed.

As soon as he stepped foot on the roof, he knew his wish hadn’t been granted. Kudo Shinichi stood with a triumphant smirk on his face and the propeller KID had been planning to use was propped against the railing beside him, the screws falling between his fingers to land on the concrete to roll off the edge.

“Not going anywhere tonight, KID. Wasn’t the smoothest operation either,” Shinichi noted, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he strolled towards him.

KID straightened up, wiping at the raccoon-eyes he probably had left over from the night’s horrific accidents, and tried on his most charming smile as he met the detective in the middle.

“I should’ve known that you were the one responsible for the closed ventilation shafts,” KID said, with more confidence than he really felt at the moment. It just figured that the great detective would finally show up to give him a challenge on the night when he was most off his own game. Any other night and he would have been over the moon for a chance to match wits, to see that gleam in Shinichi’s eye when he outsmarted him in a move. Tonight was just embarrassing, he’d gladly scrap the whole initiative if he didn’t think the emerald still held promise.

“Didn’t stop you from getting all the way up here, however. Sounds like you lead them around by the nose this time.”

KID kept the confusion off his face, but just barely, wondering why he thought it sounded like Shinichi was almost praising him for getting this far when it was a ridiculous farce of a heist so far.

“Little under the weather, are we?” Shinichi asked, tipping his head to the side and gesturing to Kaito’s nose as he sniffed yet again, the gas still messing with his sinuses. Kaito sneezed, with the worst timing possible, and shamefully nodded.

“You know, you don’t have to do a heist every week.” Passing over a tissue, Shinichi smiled slightly as Kaito pulled off his gloves to stuff them in his pocket and blew his nose. “If you get sick, just take time off. You look like you haven’t slept in a while either.”

Kaito almost wanted to retort that he was looking just fine when he remembered his mess of a face and figured that having a cold was likely the best excuse he would get in this situation. It wasn’t like he could seriously blame it on his cape acting up without being laughed at.

“Is that concern, detective? I’ll have to remember this tactic in the future then.” Kaito knew it wasn’t a good attempt at brushing it off but he needed to save face somehow. This caring side to the detective was a rare occurrence and threw him off balance about as much as the rest of the evening had.

“I look forward to your next performance, I’m sure it’ll be marvelous,” Shinichi murmured softly, leaning in and reaching slowly up to rest a hand on Kaito’s forehead. “You look flushed, are you sure you’re safe to be out here?”

Before his hand could touch, however, Kaito was dragged backward, away from Shinichi and his warm hand. Kaito swore under his breath, tugging at the fabric bunching around his wrists. His damn cape was freaking cockblocking him, even after everything it had already ruined tonight!

“I wouldn’t want you to catch it, might mess up that brain of yours,” Kaito said instead, bowing low to cover his attempts to free his hands.

“Wait, how are you going to get down? Don’t get so close to the edge, you’ve been unsteady all night!” Shinichi ran towards him and Kaito was dragged back at the same pace, barrelling towards the rather flimsy-looking safety railing that was all that separated him the yawning depths below.

“Haven’t you ever heard?” KID asked, “A magician never reveals his secrets.”

Those were his last words as he pitched over the edge and Shinichi’s panicked shout was all he heard as he fell.

The cape, after all the mischief it had wrought that night, caught him and pulled him back up in a flight as smooth as he’d ever achieved with his glider. It felt like he was truly flying, weightless amidst the stars and the air threading cold fingers through his hair as he rose back up to the level of the roof and grinned at the stunned look on his dear detective’s face.

“Till the next showtime!” he yelled, hoping the cape knew where it was going as it swooped away, because he sure didn’t.

#DCMKEmogust2019 #dcmk #kaito kid #Kudou Shinichi #detective conan #Kuroba Kaito #my writing #this is probably the silliest thing I've written since the #magical bois au piece but I just couldn't resist #i rewatched the doctor strange movie bits for this because i needed inspiration #much thanks to the kaishin discord for this prompt

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loneleesoul · 6 years ago

Text

Starker: Party Games Pt. 2

dang, this is turning into a lil story, im loving this and I hope you love it too.

💙💙💙

"Isn't that breaking the rules of the game?" Peter decides to be brave in his last living moments.

"I won't tell anyone." Tony whispers, walking closer to Peter.

He gives in, fear taking over. "Who are you the most afraid of here?" He sighs, not looking at Tony.

To Peter's surprise, Tony laughs. "Seriously? That's so pathetic Parker." He laughs as Peter sends a text to Aunt May to get him.

Ned would forgive him, if he survived this conversation.

"Of course, Ned is so not like that.. I got angry over nothing." Tony shrugs and Peter stares. "You aren't mad now? Aren't you always mad at pathetic poor pitiful Peter Parker?" Now Peter's mad. "You wonder why I said no to getting trapped in a room with you? For one I'm terrified of you and two, that's like accepting you beating me up..letting you beat me up by voluntarily being alone with you. But whatever, you beat me up weekly anyways."

Tony looks a bit shocked and Peter brushes past him to go get Ned. He's fuming, smoke from the ears mad.

He finds Ned talking to the girl he accidentally offended earlier and just drags him away. "We are leaving right now."

And Ned knows well enough to not anger a mad Peter, it mainly ends in frustrated tears actually.

They walk past Tony and walk to May's car. "What happened?" Is May's first words and Ned shakes his head in a warning. "Can we just go home please."

__________

Everyone seemed shocked to see Peter show up at school the next day. Except for Tony, which Peter hadn't seen and was trying to avoid. Some people even asked how he had survived Tony's wrath.

If anything, some could say that Tony was glad to come out of an angry conversation with Peter unscathed. Peter, of course, has never hit anyone or wanted to hit anyone.

Peter nearly makes it through history without Tony, when he shows up seven minutes before the bell rings.

He audibly curses when Tony walks through the door, earning himself a detention. He's glad Tony didn't hear the words "motherfucking shit nugget!!" aimed at him.

"Late Stark, detention." The teacher barks at Tony, who ignores her.

Now's a really good time to use the phrase motherfucking shit nugget.

Tony doesn't say a word or even look at him all class, which shocks Peter.

Ned even notices, and shrugs at Peter across the classroom.

Tony doesn't seem fuming angry like last night, or pissed off like when he speaks to Peter. It's like, the moment he saw him at the party last night he had changed.

Now, Peter's starting to guess what Tony really wanted to do in that room.

Beating Peter up seemed to have made the most sense, but it was a room for that.

There's no way.

There's absolutely no way.

That Tony Stark... could like Peter Parker.

__________

The moment the bell rings Peter follows Ned out, hoping he'd be some form of protection.

Wait, if Tony wasn't mad at him did Peter really need protection?

"Come on Peter, don't be late to detention.. you are already in enough trouble." Ned tries to push him away but Peter's glued to him. "No way dude, I'm waiting until Stark is already in there so he won't sit by me."

Ned rolls his eyes "He's always late though, wanna come over for dinner? My mom's making something she found off of pinterest." He gleams with pride for his mother and Peter laughs.

"Do you mean you found it and showed it to her? I've seen your pinterest Ned, nothing but Beyonce and baking videos." They stand outside the detention room.

"Very funny Peter, now go.. I don't want to be associated with a rule breaking hooligan." He pushes him through the door and walks away.

And just as Peter had hoped, Stark was already in the room. Staring of course as Peter sits far from him.

He takes a seat next to Michelle, who nods at him. "What are you in for?"

"Saying a curse word." He winces, realising how stupid it actually was. She raises her brows at him."I say fuck on the daily and never get reprimanded, what could you have possibly said to get put in here?"

"Motherfucking shit nugget." He whispers, mindful of the few people near them.

Michelle gasps in fake shock. "What a bad curse word, wanna play War?" She pulls out a deck of cards.

"Sure, I'm not that good so it'll be a short game." He admits with a shrug and Michelle looks around the room. "Hey he's pretty cool.. Stark, get over here."

Peter grabs her arm and hisses a menacing "You are the motherfucking shit nugget now."

She smiles as Tony walks over "Yeah MJ?" He pulls a chair up to her desk as she holds up the cards. "War."

"Sure, I'll kick your ass." It's as if Peter isn't here.

That's why he stays silent for the first few minutes. Unsure of what was going on in Tony's mind, he hadn't gotten a beating this week yet. He could slam his head down on the desk, shattering his nose and the teacher wouldn't even notice.

"Peter, go." Tony mutters, waiting for him to put his card down.

So he does realize Peter is here. He places down a card and a few seconds later, ends up losing even more cards to Michelle.

Peter stares anxiously at the few unturned cards in his hand, he was going to lose. "Scared Parker?" Michelle taunts and Peter scoffs. "Sometimes you gotta sacrifice your soldiers to end up winning the battle."

Tony snorts, amused but staying silent. Woah, that's a first. He usually laughs at his pain or struggles.

Peter still loses, all his cards now with Michelle, who wins overall. "Bitch, who kicked your ass? I kicked your ass! Biiiitch, who kicked your ass? I kicked your ass!" She cheers and Tony rolls his eyes. "I totally had that game, and you were totally looking at your cards the whole time." He groans defensively and Michelle tosses the cards all over her desk.

"Loser, 52 card pickup." She points at the splattered pile half on the floor half on the desk. Peter sighs, bending down to get all of the cards from the dirty floor.

"You need to up your game Parker, next time you call someone a motherfucking shit nugget you better have practiced before." She says as he puts all of the cards back in the box.

"Hey, it's technically a game of luck, what cards you get."

Ok something is seriously wrong. Peter stares in wonder, was that Tony defending him. "Is that why you lost? You got bad cards?" Michelle puts the box in her bag and slings it over her shoulder.

"Let's go to dinner, loser over here can pay.. right?" Her eyebrows are raised in a threating sort of way.

"I can't, Michelle I'll buy you dinner some other time. I'm already going over to Ned's." He's mindful of Tony's stare.

Has he always been staring at him and Peter just never noticed?

"This is why nobody likes you, I'll hold you up on that offer.. Toe-knee you are welcome to have him pay for you too." She gives a lame finger-guns snap before walking out.

It's already too uncomfortable for Peter to bear and he stands, chair squeaking awkwardly.

"Peter..." Tony's quiet and Peter pretends to not hear him and he grabs his bag. It's almost been 30 minutes and Peter sees no harm in leaving early.

Aunt May's texted him saying she's outside, and sweet freedom.

Until a hand grabs his wrist, pulling hard.

He stumbles back, legs buckling and he falls into Tony's chest. His muscular arms hold Peter tight, as Peter struggles.

This is it, Tony was holding in all of his rage for now. He was a goner.

"Peter." Tony mumbles, and it's almost like they're hugging.

"Tony please let me go... I'm so sorry for yelling at you just please don't hit me again." He begs, remembering he still had some bruises from last week.

Tony lets him go and Peter turns to face him quickly. "I'm sorry." He's so damn quiet.

"Look.. it's fine, my ride is here and I really need to go." He says, walking backwards slowly. He waits for a reply but is met with staring silence.

He turns and quickly walks out the doors.

__________

Damn it Stark, fucking pussy.

He watches Parker run out the doors and groans.

So weak, just tell the little shit already.

Last night, Peter had opened Tony's eyes. Shocked him to the very core.

He realized that he was seriously hurting him, which should've been obvious.

Besides yes, beating him up, emotionally hurting him. How could Tony not have seen it before? How shy he was, anxiety, never ate, didn't defend himself because he thought everything said of him was true.

I'm such an asshole.

Stuck in the cliché of bullying the person you like.

Peter would never ever want to be with him, it's like he said. "I'm terrified of you..."

It was like Tony had been shot, and he deserved all of the pain.

This boy would never say yes to Tony, ever... He'd think of it as a joke or ask if cameras were around.

He wishes he had his number, or any way to contact him. Spamming him would eventually work.

Maybe treating him like shit wasn't the best approach.

He needs to change.

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gatorademachinegun · 6 years ago

Text

mermaids, men, and gators

working title: LMAOOOO WHAT IS A CONSTANT TENSE I DONT KNOW HER

notes: i wrote this back in september 2018 when my theme was the green gators blog but i was a chicken about posting it till right this second. so. have this i guess.

dedication: @xxsirensong both this and the entire green gator theme started with you Linda, ily

When you come to visit us down here in swampland, don’t go into the water. Don't go near it.

Stay with the people, on dry land, away from the Fishies.

That's what Old Uncle John will call them. Fishies. You'll know them by a different name, they're probably why you came down to visit if you're being perfectly honest with yourself. You came to see the Mermaids. Sirens. Fishies. They go by many names and if you follow the river down into the swamp you'll find them.

Gossamer and gorgeous, almost out of place in the dirty greens and grays of the swamp, but then again. You can only see half of them. Who knows what the delicate trail of teal green scales leads to other than the water.

Stay out of the water. You're too close already. A quick peak is all She'll allow. Better get out quick before one of your beauties signals for Her.

Old Uncle John has nothing good to say about Her.

"She's mean," he'll say, "She'd be prettier if she smiled but then you'd see the blood she's covered in!" the young ones don’t like stories about Her, but once Old John gets going.....

"Evil, she's pure evil. Nasty ass bitch never shoulda-" he'll stop here and rub at his bad eye, mangled under the too big sunglasses he wears. Someone bought him an eye patch for Christmas one year. He doesn’t use it.

If you probe for answers he’ll only get nastier, accent thickening like good white gravy until even Aunt Myra can’t understand anything other than the occasionally swear word. She’ll tell you to get him drunk and then ask. You make the mistake of taking her advice when you stumble back into town, muddy from the waist down and blabbering about mermaids.

A fifth of whiskey and a question about how to get the mud out of you jeans is all it takes to him talking. Asking you if you went down to that ‘damned swamp’ and following up with ‘you did dincha!’ complete with a swat to the head. Aunt Myra smiles in sympathy from the kitchen but doesn't step in. ‘You wanted this, remember?’ her eyes seem to say. You do.

A few hedged questions about his own jeans and then John’s eyes unfocus, lost in the past.

It starts with a pretty girl, as most of Old Uncle John’s stories do.

A pretty girl, a reckless boy and the swamp.

He sees her when he’s messing around with his friends in the creek, just a flicker of dark hair and a gentle laugh. Hushed whispers and some jostling gets his buddies to shut up long enough for them all to notice her, chest deep in the mud, smiling like it’s the last day of school.

They’ll ask if she’s stuck. She’ll move backwards in answers, the heavy mud parting like water for her. It’s in her hair. Johnny doesn't care.

He chases her, running, tripping in his haste, and falling with a wet splat while she laughs at him, low and loud. He’ll walk home muddy everyday if she laughs like that again. With a wink she stands and mud clings to a heavy, bare, chest.

Someone whistles behind him and moves closer. She does the same, something a little too sharp to be curious but a little to open to be menacing. Her eyes are as brown as the mud around them.

When she’s close enough Johnny goes cross eyed looking at her the world explodes with movement.

Someone's yelling, another’s got her by the arm, John’s got a handful of something he’s got no business touching according to his ma but his conscious quiets when they all collectively pull

She’s got a tail.

It’s twice as big around as Johnny is, even with the bulk football gave him, and covered in mud, moss, and shimmering green scales so dark they’re almost black.

Then she snarls, claws a good hunk of meat off of John’s face and rips whoever’s got her arm, shoulder right out of its socket.

They’ll find Johnny sobbing into the mud a while later, hands clapped to his face, blood running down his arms, no mermaid in sight.

When he comes back to himself, back to Old Uncle John and away from Young Little Johnny he’ll rip that second fifth outta you’re fingers and down half it in one go.

That’s all you get out of him that night.

Aunt Myra doesn't look sad when you glance up at her, she’s angry.

You wonder if this is the first time she’s heard about how her husband got his scar

When you ask Freddy, who’s across the street and weak in his shoulder, about it he’ll spit between your shoes and say some impressively unprintable things.

“You leave that gator and that witch alone boy you hear!” he’ll jam a finger into your chest until you have a bruise and are nodding frantically.

You lied to him

The gator piece is new. Aunt Myra shakes her head and tells you Fred went mad a long time ago but the little kids giggle and tell you that the gator shoots a gun.

When you point out that gator’s can't shoot guns Chrissy, the oldest of them all at the ripe old age of 6, will laugh and say “Neither can you!” before running off.

She’s got a point.

Also, mermaids are real. Why can’t gun shooting gators be too?

Your best friend laughs when you tell him. “Mermaids and gun slinging gators? The humidity is getting to you man! Better come home before your brain melts entirely!”

You’ll hang up on him, the asshole.

A picture you decide, milking a glass of orange juice Aunt Myra doesn't know you spiked, get a picture of the mermaids avoid whichever one fucked Uncle John’s face, and become famous for it.

You might have had a little too much of that orange juice.

Strapped into borrowed waders that are too big for you, phone in hand, you’ll be hip deep in mud with a half a mind to quit when you’ll see them.

They’re further in than last time, pushed up on a bank of semi dry sand, speaking in a language you don't realize. You’ve got an eye full of bare skin in long lean lines, that fades into delicate scales until their the size of your palm and colored the same as the marsh plants you fought through to get here.

You’ll barely unlock your phone when one of them sees you and flicks her tail up, sending mud flying. It’ll land dead in front of you, splattering up into your face, and slicking your phone.

By the time you get it out of your eyes, a scaled nose is peeking up from the water, dead in front of you.

Everyone knows, everyone is taught what those are. Gator.

It’s been too long since you’ve visited though, and the lessons are dull in your mind. Do you run? Stay put? Scream?

The decision will be taken from you when She arrives.

You know immediately it’s Her. the one who fucked Old Uncle John’s face.

Hand prints brand her bare chest, a shade of sickly green almost the exact size of your own hand on her breast, you’re only a little older than Uncle John was, you realize with a start.

Another is branded around her upper arm, the same shade of green that makes every buried instinct in you scream of sickness and pain and you have the overwhelming urge to vomit.

She’ll stop you, the murky water and mud parting easily for her, and she’ll grip your jaw in one hand, looming over you.

The gator moves to the side, but you’ll feel it’s breath on the side of your exposed neck, the only think you can focus on whole She yells at you in a language you have no hope of ever understanding.

When She’s done, brown eyes narrowed in rage, you’ll notice the gator skin on her shoulders. Stitched into her flesh, with heavy thread, an armor leading down her back. To where you can't see, head still pulled into an unnatural angle, her grip on your jaw ever tightening with your staring.

Finally She’ll let you go, but Her gator stays, breathing on you with it’s too big nostrils, looking almost gleeful when you spare a glance to check its location. Chrissy will be disappointed you didn't see its gun.

If you survive this that is.

When She drops you, and She will, for not even the merfolk can yell forever, you’ll flounder for balance, Her steady weight gone, no longer holding you up. You hadn't realized you’d slumped into her grip.

She’ll catch you, steady you, but it’s with the prong of a pitchfork. The metal is cold against your back and she’s sneering, lips pulled back to reveal pointed teeth and a algae green tongue that darts out to taste the air.

You are in no position to wonder about snake mermaids in the swamps, because she’s got her pitchfork in your face, one tip indenting the flesh of your cheek. The same spot Uncle John has his scar.

She’ll see the fear flash in your face because her next move is a jerk of the tines, making a shallow cut on your face. It burns the way cuts do when you get dirt in them and your eye will water from the sting of it.

“Never. Again.” She’ll say in careful English, then again in Spanish because you actually paid attention in that class and again in another language, changing each time but the same two words.

She punctuates each languages change with a jab to your chest, ripping your borrowed waders and your shirt until you're back into the river proper, gator still swimming idly beside you.

When she pulls back something ripples behind her, heavy and green.

“Gator,” you breath and glance down at your unwanted buddy. No scales are missing from his hide but that is unmistakable gatorskin that flows from her shoulders. The stitching……

She wields a pitchfork, stands tall on her tail, wears a cape of alligator hide and protects the way she was never protected. Hand prints mar her skin, sickly against smooth flesh and she doesn't cover them, her cape is her only kind of clothing and you’re still not sure if her gator companion wields a gun or not.

You know when you’re not wanted enough to leave before you find out

Aunt Myra scolds you for leaving like that and ripping a good pair of waders but won't hear anything about mermaids or alligators.

Your best friend thinks it’s the funniest shit when you call him, crowing about humidity and going crazy. You don't hang up, but you touch the cut on your cheek, and the scraps on your chest. You’re not crazy.

You leave shortly after that, mad that you’re phone is ruined no good pictures at all, a wasted trip. Your mad about Her roughing you up, mad about that damn gator who shoots better than you do.

Old Uncle John has a drink with you before your drive back home, and both of you are muttering about ‘damn Fishies’ before the bottle is even halfway gone.

Across the swamp, across the sea, She sighs and stitches another scale into her cape. Humans will never learn to leave well enough alone. They will never understand Her pain.

The butt of her pitchfork slams against the riverbed rhythmically, calling.

As the water around Her ripples she sets aside her needle and rises, watching Her Sisters rally to her cry

Since they do not learn, they will drown.

And the Waters will be all the better for it

#my writing #gatorade made #(yikes thats an old tag)#mermaids #i uhhh #it's like half a hair rapey but im a weenie so just vauged about it #i have no idea what to tag this but #ok #here yall go #ily linda

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unofficialxstyles · 6 years ago

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(Left) Hooked-A Gym Rat Drabble

“You and me? Exercising? Bad idea. One of us always ends up injured,”

Instead of taking my words seriously, however, Harry chuckled. It was a laugh that lightly shook his body as he took my hand and placed it over the ice pack to hold it in place. He then reached for my other hand to undo the gloves and the wrap.

Nothing could have prepared me for what unfolded next.

The minute the entrapment was off, I could smell what I assumed to be a landfill of accumulated sweat.

I wanted to hurl.

(thank you @thatoddpanda for the idea!)

All my life, I guess I was privileged because I had never been to a landfill.

However, I knew that if for whatever reason I ended up in one, it would probably, most likely smell just like these.

“It smells terrible, Styles. I’m not going to wear it,” I flatly refused, staring at his outstretched hands in ill-disguised disgust.

That sounded like a mouthful to say in my head.

Harry rolled his eyes, as if I had just casually announced that I was allergic to chocolates.

“Come on, Rob. You know you need to wear them. You’d hurt your fingers otherwise,” he pointed out, his tone almost pleading despite his show of mild contempt over my initial refusal. I shook my head no and he let out a huge sigh. “You either wear these or you could go home and take yours. You decide,”

This time, it was my turn to offer a ceremonious eye roll.

“Or…we could just pretend this day never happened and come back another day. I checked and Louis has exactly two spaces in his class-which I’m sure he would be more than happy to offer,” I suggested with a wink. “Even if it was all filled up, he could conjure up a bicycle from thin air, no problem,”

Of course, conjuring really translated into Louis forcing someone else to abdicate their right to a seat by politely telling them that they had the wrong shoes on. I would not put that past him because I myself have been the subject of Louis’ humiliation after I was a no-show at an already accepted invitation to play arcade games. I had not gone because I thought I’d spare him the sympathy-I was terrible at games and all its forms.

“But I booked the boxing ring,” Harry was relentless in his pursuit as he now, suddenly, inhaled boldness and thrusted the black gloves towards me. “And you agreed,”

“Seasons change, dinosaurs went extinct and I do change my mind,” I pointed out. I shook my head as a final indication that there was no way I was going to compromise and bent over to reach for my phone and water bottle. When I came back up and was once more face to face with Harry, he had pulled out the look he knew by then I could never say no to.

It was the look the devil gave when he knew someone was about to sin.

The Universe and all its entity hated my guts, that much I knew.

“What,” I stalled, taking a step back in a feeble attempt to stop his advances.

“Come on, you know I’ve wanted to box with you since the first day I caught you spying-“

I held up a hand to cut him off.

“I was not spying,” I corrected him gently. “You were in my line of vision,”

Harry nodded.

“Right, right,” my potential sparring partner waved a hand dismissively. “Come on, do me this favour, please? It’ll be fun. I’ll use my wrap too so it wouldn’t be too bad. Please, Robin,”

Harry’s green eyes bored into mine then, searching them for answers and letting me know he would genuinely be hurt if I told him no. I waited two heartbeats to steel myself to stand my ground, to fight the urge to say yes and to internally insist that this was bad idea.

But alas.

“Fine,” I caved. “I hate you, by the way,”

Grudgingly holding my hands out with my palms facing upwards, Harry’s glee was unmistakable as his fingers dug into his pockets only to re-emerge with a ball of cloth that he easily undid. He fitted a small loop onto my thumb and expertly weaved the now stretched out material across my hand. As his fingers danced along my now cloth covered skin, I found myself staring intently at the t-shirt he had on, reading the words over and over again as a method to distract myself from staring at Harry himself-focused eyes, intently furrowed brows and all.

I continued to remain quiet as he went on to do the same to my other hand and I briefly wondered just how many girls he had boxed with in his lifetime. When he finally began fitting the pair of Smellies onto my now seemingly secure, wrapped arms, I gathered the courage to ask.

“Just how many girls have experienced the horror of boxing with you?”

Pleasure.

Of course I meant pleasure.

Harry pursed his lips and did not answer right away as he strapped the velcro on my wrists tightly.

“Just you,” he shrugged. Briefly, his gaze was cast in my direction for the first time in the last three and the half minutes, as if to gauge my reaction.

I scoffed.

Harry strapped my other hand.

Somewhere in the distance, someone gave a victory cry as they lifted their weights worth in metal.

“It’s true,” Harry assured. Finally, with both gloves fully clad in my hands, Harry hit the knuckles to ensure they were truly snug before moving on to put on his own gloves. He did this quickly and in no time, we were in the ring.

Naturally, Harry looked like a professional boxer despite his hair being pushed back with a hairband, those ghastly green shoes and even more so when he immediately assumed his stance-hands raised to cover his face, legs slightly apart and knees bent.

I was going to get beaten into a pulp.

Had it not been for the lure of another strawberry cheesecake non-date at what was now our favourite hangout, I would have bailed the moment I realised, three stops away from the hell hole, that I had forgotten my gloves.

“You ready?” Harry prompted when he saw that I was obviously re-thinking my decision instead of assuming my stance.

“Mmm,” I mumbled, then shifted slightly.

The two of us began circling one another and I suspected that had I been any other person but a girl who was clearly upset about the potential of her hands smelling like landfills after a torturous battle, Harry would have long kicked my ass. Looking back, I would have been fine with going in circles, too, but I started to get dizzy so I supposed starting somewhere was better than none.

I jabbed.

Harry easily anticipated the move and raised his hand in a blocking move.

I went for a right uppercut and managed to deliver a mild blow to his chin. Harry lightly stumbled backwards, blinking, wide eyed at the unexpected move.

I smirked.

I did John and my parents proud.

“That was nice,” he commented, but did not wait a second longer to send a low kick flying against my abdomen. I wheezed but then recovered, switched my legs and threw a kick-aimed directly at his thigh.

Let’s now take yet another moment to celebrate because I had no idea what came over me at that moment.

I mean, I had never been that coordinated in my life.

Robin-1, Universe-0.

Easily, however, Harry caught my calf and in the briefest of moments, offered me a smile that paled the sun (read: bright). Akin to that of the most cheesy, cringe worthy, cliché romance scenes of my rom-com database, our eyes locked.

That was all it took for my demise.

Harry swiftly took a step back, his hand running the length of my calf before it held onto my ankle and with only a slight force, Harry nudged my leg. It sent me spiralling out of balance and I let out a yelp. In no time, I found myself hip first on the ground of the boxing ring.

It did not help that I was certain the thud could be heard within a three-block radius.

Rage and embarrassment must have fuelled my next move because under no other circumstances would I have gotten on my feet that quick, giving a jab and cross whose force would have rivalled a plummeting roller coaster.

Then again, perhaps it played better in my subconscious.

Harry caught the first punch easily, then the second and in less than a heartbeat, closed the space between us. We were both panting by then, eyes wide as we tried to process what had just happened.

I hated-no, absolutely hated, being in proximity to Harry Styles because when I was this close to him, I could see that his eyes actually had little flecks of gold in them and his hair smelt like bloody roses and he had a little mole by the left side of his lips that was so easily missed when people did not pay enough attention.

And it also reminded him of the weight of what I felt for him.

As soon as it hit me, I pulled away by yanking my hands from him and taking a couple of steps back. Harry seemed to snap out of a trance, too, as he blinked a few times, then curiously looked at me with his head cocked to one side.

“That was good,” It was Harry who spoke first, breaking several beats of silence. “John taught you well,”

I only nodded absently because in all the times John had been in the ring with me, I had never gotten up that quickly. It further convinced me that in the quickest of moments, my soul was replaced by a famous, swash bucking hero.

“Another round?”

I shook my head.

The earlier, momentary adrenaline had faded away and somehow, my hip was starting to hurt- a sure sign of a nasty bruise I was going to have to nurse.

Harry caught on.

“Your hip okay? It was a pretty bad blow. Let me get some ice,”

Without so much as waiting for a protest that I had already partially formulated, Harry had his gloves off and was off in the general direction of the counter. He came back to me sitting on the ground, legs propped up in a V shape and gloved hand rubbing at the sore spot slowly,

Gently, Harry sat down next to me and urged me to tilt my body a little. Through the tights I had on, Harry pressed the ice pack against the spot I was rubbing at moments before and held it there.

I pouted.

“You know. Maybe me and you and exercise is not a good idea,” I mentioned casually. I knew right then that the both of us began having crude flashbacks of terrible incidences run through our minds-me punching his jaw, him falling over while we were on a run together, stumbling when we lost our balance doing a squat challenge and now this.

Harry looked up.

“What?”

“You and me? Exercising? Bad idea. One of us always ends up injured,”

Nothing could have prepared me for what unfolded next.

The minute the entrapment was off, I could smell what I assumed to be a landfill of accumulated sweat.

I wanted to hurl.

During my preoccupation with nasty smells, Harry mumbled something I could barely catch.

“Eh?” It was my turn to assume the role of confounded companion.

“I said it’s not necessarily a bad idea, Rob,”

I grimace. “What? You mean me and you and exercise? How is it not a bad idea, Harry? We keep-“

“You just have to stop falling for me,”

I gaped.

Harry smirked then purposefully placed his hand atop mine on the ice pack and lightly pressed onto my wound.

When I cursed, aloud, in protest, Harry shushed me with hand over my mouth-eyes crinkled up in a smile so wide, his dimples indented his cheeks.

How, I wanted to ask.

How do I do that?

#1dff #harry styles au #harry styles drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #gr: drabble one #idek it sucks man but #LMAO #gr

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brainlessbitxh · 4 years ago

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Mason and Sebastian were to start the worst, for one they absolutely despised each other. It wasn't a typical hatred, it was one were when they would see each other they'd end up in the hospital.

"Maybe you should just not hit him" Clarice said, drinking some water and looking at a dress on the shelf "hey, it's not me that always starts it" Mason started about to go off ranting about everything bad that Sebastian does "well I don't either" Sebastian shoots back, leaning back to glare at him from behind Clarices back. The only girl there let out a deep sigh and pushed away from the clothes giving a hard look to each of them "god, if you two would just fuck already we wouldn't have this problem."

Both males jerked away from each other, their eyes promising death as they give Clarice the stink eye "if he even think about my dick in his ass, I will kill him" Sebastian boomed out slammed his fists into the wall "bold of you to assume you'd be the one on top" Mason hollered and lifted his leg to kick him only for Sebastian to grab it and yank him off his feet. "God Seb, you both are acting like children" she scolded and hit Sebastian in the head watching as he flinched away and released Masons ankle.

Clarice forced them to walk side by side the entire time she was walking around the mall, tossing peanuts every single time one of them would say something snarky to the other "damnit, you both are ruining my shopping" she finally shouted, turning around and planning murder.

Her eyes trailed around the walkway until they landed on a bench with two seats available right next to each other and smiled "follow me" she said and directed them to the seats were she promptly pushed them down and hoisted her bags into their laps. Clarice smiled at her accomplishment and started walking away, entering a near by store giving a sharp look to the both of them.

Sebastian was the first one to open his mouth "you utter a single word and I will hurt you" Mason beat him to it, and shoved earphones in his ears and faced the opposite way of him. "Fine then" he muttered in anger and started looking inside the bags that Clarice got before they arrived, he picked up a maroon sweater and laughed at how ugly it looked "you shouldn't be going through her stuff" Mason said facing him and glaring at his hands.

"Don't talk to me" Sebastian replied stuffing the shirt in a different bag and placing them all in the seat he was previous inhabiting "psh, try and stop me bitch" Mason swore and crossed his arms not expecting the fist that belonged to Sebastian to strike him directly in the nose and sent him falling off the bench backwards.

"Fuck" Mason grunted and wiped the blood that leaked out of his nose "seriously" he complained and pushed himself onto his feet. Sebastian moved into a defensive position to catch the incoming fist that Mason always threw, he always used the same game plan when punching and that made him predictable.

"Whatever Seb" he snarled and turned walking down the stairs to the lower floor leaving Sebastian standing there confused and looking like an idiot "what in gods name are you doing" Clarice snorted as she stood behind him, her eyes narrowed as they spotted the blood on his knuckles.

"You didn't kill him, did you?" She said annoyed as she grabbed a tissue and wiped off the few specks of blood, he stared into space annoyed that Mason couldn't be bothered with punching him back "hey" Clarice screamed and snapped her fingers in his face getting Sebastians attention "I'm going to go find him you bring all the bags to your house, I'll meet you in a few okay" she said and left immediately.

Clarice sighed as she walked down the stairs following the trail of blood, it going all the way to the other side off the mall, she got back tracked a couple times because people stepped in the small drops and disrupted the trail she was following. She finally arrived in front of the boy bathroom and walked in, looking around to made sure no one saw her and locked the door "Mas" she called and turned the corner to find him sitting on the ground with his legs pulled into his chest and tears running down his cheeks.

"Oh Mas" Clarice sighed and pulled him into her chest, wrapping her arms around him tightly "why Clar" he asked letting his blood and tears mess up her white shirt "it'll be okay, I'll always be here" collecting herself, she pulled him in a little closer and just held him while rocking her body back and forth "it hurts" Mason gasped out and pulled away.

"Let me get you cleaned up, and then I'll walk you home" she offered and held out her hand, he placed his in hers gently and for tugged up. Grabbing some paper towel she wet it and started to dab at the blood dripping out of his nose, pressing down at the dried blood. "There is my little Mas" Clarice cooed as she wiped the remaining tears away and kissed his head "I love you" she said and forced him out of the bathroom, where a line of angry males stood glaring at the couple.

"I sent Seb home" Clarice said, rubbing Masons back as he tensed. He held opened the door for her which she curtsied jokingly and exited the mall holding out his arm for him to take "shall we" she asked smiling, and Mason couldn't deny her.

"Here we go" Clarice screamed in a Mario voice well skipping next to Mason who was laughing "god can you shut up" a voice said from behind them, and when they turned a group of seven stood there with bats and knives in their hands "no" Clarice said stubbornly and started speaking again, this time acting as Luigi. "Clarice not the time" Mason said as he tugged her sleeve trying to pull her away from the dangerous group "you should listen to your boyfriend" a guy with a bowl cut said, popping a knife up threateningly.

"Woah, you have a knife so dangerous" she said sarcastically and wrapped a arm around Masons waist holding him comfortingly "she's protecting her boyfriend, what a coward" the leader teased making the group start howling with laughter.

"Why you" she stomped up to the group and raised her fist, before she could land her punch a bat came from beside and hit her in the stomach making her double over in pain, the guy she was going to punch kicked her knee cap and a loud pop made Mason wince and shoot forward to grab her.

"Hold him" the leader growled and three people stopped him from helping his friend, two grabbed his shoulders and forced him to stay still while the third one threw a bunch of punches at him, Mason struggled against them while screaming at the rest of the four who were slamming a bat repeatedly into Clarices head her brain and blood flying everywhere.

Tears started falling out of his eyes as all eyes landed on him and started towards him, the one holding his left arm wrenched it behind his back and pushed it up until he felt it break in two "we killing him too" they asked while swinging a bat at his abdomen so many times he lost count "let him go" someone said, his vision blurring so much he couldn't figure out who. The two hands that held him up were released and he dropped down to his knees screaming in pain.

A dark blur crouched down in front of him and jerked his head up "you ever mention any of us doing this, and I promise you'll end up worse then your girlfriend" he spat on Masons face and then started to walk away. All the blurs disappearing.

Mason sat on the ground and cried to scared to move his line of vision to look at his best friend with her skull bashed in "Clarice" he cried and dug his hands deep in his hair and pulled ignoring the throbbing pain coming from his elbow.

"Why" he screamed so loud is made his voice hoarse, as he sat there with his best friends body water started falling from the sky turning it dark snd cold. "I gotta go Clar" he choked out her name and used a nearby tree to help himself up and start slowly walking down the street, towards Sebastian house.

Mason stumbled as a crack in the sidewalk tripped him and sent him into the ground, he put out his hands to stop himself from hitting his head, but whimpered as his broken arm came in contact.

"Damn it" Mason swore and leaned his back against a sign "damn it" he said lower and more broken dropping his head down in shame "god, I deserve this" he spoke and forced himself up, wincing at the pain. Through his blurred vision he saw the two story house in front of him, with plenty of empty bags just chilling on the porch. Mason held onto the banister and pulled himself up each step until he was close enough to bang on the door.

He stood there, his vision going in an out and pressed his hands against his thighs trying to stable yourself "Clarice what happened to your key" Sebastian laughed as he opened the door, his playful expression turning into one a worry "oh my god, Mason" he pushed open the screen door just in time to catch him "I'm sorry" Mason cried and hide his bruised and bloody face in Sebastian bare chest.

The taller boy wrapped his arms under Masons shoulders and tugged him inside shutting the door and locking it "what happened to you, where's my sister" he asked, making Mason sob at the mention of Clarice "god, I am so sorry" Mason shouted and pulled at his hair harshly feeling some strands fall out from it.

"Hey stop that" Sebastian scolded and placed the boy on the couch slapping away his hands, he leaned down and rested his hands on Masons knees and looking into his eyes "where is she" he asked softly rubbing his knees softly like Clarice would do his back.

Mason felt him looking at him and turned his head sideways to avoid eye contact, instead of speaking he stutter whimpering and blubbering like a baby.

"I-I'm so selfish" Mason slapped his head harshly and started breathing heavily thinking off her head beat in and her brain all over the place "shit" Sebastian spoke and took a spot next to the boy pulled him into his chest holding him close "shh" he said holding him close "come on breath" Sebastian pleaded and held Masons face which didn't show any signs of understanding "I'm not going to hurt you" he said as Mason flinched backwards.

He grabbed the boys hand and placed it in his warm chest taking deep breaths "breath like me ok, copy me" Sebastian begged and a minute later Mason was taking deep breaths that were interrupted by sobs.

"I'm here" Sebastian promise and pulled Mason into his lap letting him sit there with tears falling down his rosy cheeks "I'm here" he said more quietly when the boys breathing evened out "she's dead isn't she" he mumbled looking down at the boys bloody face that still had fear warped all over it.

#hero #villain #friends #public enemies

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joonie-beanie · 8 years ago

Text

Bottoms Up

A/N: I felt like it’d been a while since I’d written anything that focused on Yoongi, so I really wanted to write something~ I started this a few weeks ago and then got distracted by life and finishing up college for the semester, but I finally finished it so here I am~ Hopefully you all enjoy it lol

Words: 3,007

Genre: Smut

Clubs aren’t your thing—but you give them a chance, because you don’t want to seem like the party pooper amongst your group of friends. Despite their efforts to get you to show some skin, though, you still end up walking into the club wearing a tank-top, skinny jeans, and a pair of laced up high-tops. You weren’t here to be hit on—you didn’t want some creep trying to slide his hand up your inner thigh. You were here to socialize, down some drinks to get over your regret of coming, and then hopefully leave with the first friend in your group who would call it a night.

So, you saddle up to the bar, waving at your friends as they scuttle out onto the dance floor—all high heels and short skirts. Once they disappear into the throng of grinding bodies, you spin on your stool, turning to rest your elbows on the counter top—

…and the bartender is right in front of you. Skinny, but well rounded—dark hair hanging slightly into his eyes, black button up fitted to his torso perfectly. His face remains void of any emotion, but when he catches your surprised stare and the slight part of your lips, he smirks.

“What can I start you with?” he asks, voice deeper than you had expected, a bit rough, but still clearly heard over the music of the club. You pause at the question, your mind blanking.

“I…I’ll take a rum and coke, unless you have something better to give me,” you say, trying to scrape up your remaining shred of composure. The male cocks an eyebrow, looking a little contemplative.

“You wanna get drunk? Or do you just wanna buzz so you can still punch the guy that tries to steal your panties? I mean you gotta throw me a bone here.”

“I don’t even fucking know, man,” you say honestly, leaning back a little to motion at yourself. “Look at me. I mean—it’s not exactly like easy access is written all over my jean-clad legs.”

The bartender hums, reaching down to snag a shot glass. “I’ve been looking at you for a minute or two now and you’re surprising cute despite the outfit,” he comments, reaching behind him to grab a bottle of Kahlua. “Clearly you’re not here to let anyone finger you in the back alleyway, though,” he continues, chuckling when he catches your blush and stunned look.

With skill, he snatches up a bottle of Grand Marnier and Bailey’s too, layering the liquors in a shot glass with exact precision. When he’s finished, he gently slides it towards you, meeting your questionable stare.

“It’s good. Sweet liquor for a sweet girl. Take it—it’ll help you loosen up a little.”

“Are bartenders usually this flirty?” you question him, downing the shot in one go (because damn this dude is making you warm already).

“Only to those who perk our interest,” he responds, taking the shot glass from you after you set down. You laugh, feeling somewhat incredulous.

“Yeah? Should I consider myself lucky then?”

“Depends on your definition of lucky,” he chuckles, eyes fliting to the side when another couple up the bar slurs for him. Smile dropping from his lips, he quickly moves around, throwing some ice into a glass—filling it a third full with rum and the remainder with coke.

“Suck on that till I get back,” he says briefly, sliding it to you, and you watch him, brows lifted in surprise as he quickly goes to tend on other patrons.

Taking the cool glass into your hand, you gently swirl the contents before taking a long sip.

You’re not sure what that bartender is aiming for, playing with your emotions like this, but…dammit, you really don’t mind.

Ten minutes later, dark and mysterious bartender is back in front of you, elbow propped on the counter, interest sparking in his irises as he listens to you ramble about all the things you don’t really like about clubs. You hadn’t exactly meant to just…open up to him, but…you’re beginning to think your tolerance is a bit lighter than you had assumed.

“I’m baffled you’re even here,” he muses, refilling your glass. “It seems like you’d rather be at home, reading a book, or doing some kind of other dorky, yet cute thing.”

“Right? I don’t know, man—I wanted to not seem like the boring friend, but even when I’m here I’m still hiding at the bar,” you say, sighing, and rest your cheek in the palm of your hand. The bartender breathes a laugh, regarding you thoughtfully.

“You could always go.”

“Yeah, but…,” you begin, eyes flitting up to his, and his stare has you feeling a bit weak. “You’re here.”

At that, that man pauses, any movement stopping as his eyes fall from yours, lowering to regard the countertop. You watch him, cheeks hot, regret sinking in your stomach. Luckily, after a few seconds—instead of walking away or anything else that could potentially break your heart—he meets your gaze again and opens his mouth to respond.

…however, just as he does, the same drunk couple form before shouts for him at the other end of the bar and, sighing, the dark haired male hurries away. You’re once again left staring after him, hands fidgeting against your half-downed glass.

What the hell are you doing?

A little less than 20 minutes later—mister dark and mysterious having somehow disappeared from the bar without you noticing, you push your finished drink to the side and slide off your stool. You don’t want to drink anymore—you really don’t want to be here—and now that the flirty, cute bartender is gone, you’re not quite sure what to do with yourself.

More than anything, you just want to tap out and go home, but, before you can, one of your friends spots you near the edge of the dance floor and hurries over. Grabbing your wrist, she tugs you into the mass of people, and you can’t think to tell her that you’re really not in the mood for dancing—especially considering that she has already dragged you into the middle of the action.

So, reluctantly, trying to let any of your worries go (as well as thoughts of the dark-haired bartender—who you may or may not have fallen for), you begin dancing with your friends. At first, things go well—you loosen up a bit, swing your hips, feel the music—but after a few minutes you feel a pair of hands land on your hips. Glancing down—catching sight of pale, long fingers—you realize that this isn’t one of your girlfriends.

“Sorry--,” you begin, taking a step forward, trying to let the person know that you’re not about that tonight—but the fingers only tighten, and you feel a males chest lightly press against your back.

“You said weren’t about dancing, yet when I stopped by the bar on my way out for the night and noticed you were gone, I find you out here on the dance floor,” the deep, familiar voice speaks, and fuck the heat you’d felt before is igniting your blood once more.

“You—I thought—”

“My shift was over. I left to grab my stuff and planned to come back to the bar to take you home with me, but—”

“I…what??” you say, flushing red, turning your head to try and face him, but his fingers dig into your waist, holding your still, and his lips press heatedly against your neck. That has you gasping, grinding back against him as his teeth and tongue work at your throat.

“My name is Yoongi, by the way,” he says, sucking particularly hard, and your knees nearly buckle.

“Yoongi,” you repeat, testing the name on your tongue. But his name alone rolling from your lips has Yoongi growling quietly, one of his hands sinking lower to grip your ass through your jeans. You bite your lip to keep from moaning, lifting one of your hands backwards to tug his hair.

“If you were going to take me home then take me already,” you breathe, grinding your ass back yet again, and before you can gather your head you’re being pulled off the dance floor, Yoongi’s grip tight on you wrist.

“Then let’s go.”

You’re not sure how much time has passed—how long it took you to stumble into Yoongi’s apartment, hickies decorating your throat and shoulders like tinsel on a Christmas tree—but when Yoongi comments that you’d look pretty on your knees, you hardly put up a fight.

The hardwood floor of his apartment bedroom will surely leave your knees bruised for days, but the sight of Yoongi is worth it. Leg’s spread, pale, soft skin reflecting in the darkness. His cock curves against his stomach, bangs brushing past his eyes as he leans down, fingers teasing against your throat. You swallow, intimidated and aroused. Your shirt and pants have been discarded onto the floor nearby, nipples hard and panties wet, but Yoongi had granted you no relief—not yet. If you do well for him, that will be your reward.

With Yoongi’s dark eyes trained on you, his thumb soothing over the edge of your jaw, you lean in and part your lips. Yoongi tenses, one had braced against the mattress and the other moving to tangle in the hair at the crown of your head. The pain has you moaning around his shaft, and you taste precum on your tongue.

“C’mon, sweetheart. I know you can down more than drinks at a bar,” he says, voice gruff, and you show your agreement by bobbing forward, tongue flattening on the underside of his cock. The action causes a groan to slip past Yoongi’s lips, and he grips your hair tighter, helping you along.

You fight back a retch, taking him deeper and giving it your best effort. His spine curves and he bites his lip, curse caught in his throat. You’re doing well, and you both know it.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he bites, pulling you forward. Your nose nearly touches the smooth skin of his abdomen, and you swallow around him, hands moving to brace against his thighs as you attempt not to choke. Yoongi won’t let you up, and you whimper around his cock, tears in your eyes.

Yoongi watches you, aware of your struggle, but his grip doesn’t loosen—not yet.

“Am I being too rough with you, hmm?”

A part of you wants to say yes—to dig your nails into his thighs and tear yourself away, but…Yoongi looks gone—chest shaking, cheeks flushed. You swallow around his cock again, attempting to breathe through your nose, and fuck—you swear he nearly cums. You don’t dare say yes to his question—not when…not when he looks like this and when you’re nearly dripping wet from it all.

Yoongi chuckles breathily when you gently shake your head ‘no’, and he feels you struggle for breath again. So, he lets go. He untangles his fingers from your hair, watching as you sit back, your ass nearly falling onto the floor. You gasp, lips wet and pink—spit messy on your chin—and Yoongi’s cock jumps. Clenching his jaw, he extends down and pinches the base of his shaft, reaching forward with his other hand to grip your chin when he sees you look from his face to his cock and back, smile pulling at your lips.

“I could’ve cum just then—seeing how wrecked you look from my cock,” he says, eyes a little dark. “But I stopped myself, for your sake. Should I not have? Do you not want my cock in that wet pussy of yours?”

“I want it,” you respond immediately, smile dropping, and Yoongi hums in approval.

“That’s what I thought.”

Using is grip on your chin, Yoongi pulls you up, your palms bracing against his thighs once more as he kisses you. His lips are surprisingly soft compared to the way he’d been frantically kissing you earlier.

“Stand up,” he mumbles, and you listen, pressing to your feet, his lips sliding off yours. However, the contact isn’t gone for long. Yoongi’s arm wraps around your waist, pulling your forward, and his lips lock around your nipple. His other hand finds refuge between your legs, two fingers sliding between your folds. You’re so, so wet, and he can’t resist slipping the digits between your walls, curling them lightly, and you moan.

“So good for me,” he whispers against your chest, tongue swirling your nipple. He lightly bites the rosy bud, tugging it with his teeth, and only releases it when you whine, your fingernails digging little crescents into the skin of his shoulders. Yoongi retaliates by dragging his nails along your spine, mouth moving to treat your other breast with the same attention, and he can feel you begin to melt beneath him.

“More,” you say, breathless, and grind your hips down against his fingers. Yoongi grins, shifting to mouth at the side of your breast, and you gasp lewdly when he sinks his teeth into the flesh, tongue lapping over the skin to soothe the short burst of pain.

“What can I do for you, sweetheart? Tell me what you want. And don’t--,” he emphasizes, the hand on your spine moving to grab your hair once more, “—move like that if you don’t have permission first.”

“I…,” you gulp, head forced back, spine arched, and two of Yoongi’s fingers still fucking into you at an annoyingly slow pace. Fuck. “Please fuck me. Please, I need more than this. You can—you’re in charge, just—”

“I’m in charge, huh?” he echoes, his two fingers briefly pulling out of you, and your breath comes out uneven when he pushes in again, this time with a third finger joining the other two. He stretches you open so wonderfully, teasing you with slow, yet deep strokes, and god you’re about ready to beg.

“I’ve been in charge this whole time, Y/N,” he teases, pressing another kiss to your chest. “But I’m sure you know that.”

Untangling his hand from your hair, Yoongi releases you, his fingers pumping into you a few more times before he removes them, wiping them against your inner thigh. You blush at his triumphant smirk, falling against the mattress when he tugs you forward.

“Now then,” he says, reaching his hands forward and spreading your thighs apart shamelessly. You turn an even deeper shade of red, watching him as he kneels against the mattress, fist stroking his cock. Yoongi aligns himself at your entrance and wets his tip between your folds.

“Fuck…,” you breathe as he pushes in, your head resting back against the sheets. He fills you so wonderfully, and you can’t help but groan as he places his hands on the backside of your knees, pushing your legs up towards your chest and using them as leverage as he begins fucking into you.

He doesn’t start slow, like he had with his fingers. His movements are controlled and purposeful—aiming to wreck you. He’s not speedy, but he goes deep, making your body jump with every thrust.

“I’m—fuck, I let you go on too long earlier,” he curses, a growl in his tone, and his eyes peek at you from under his bangs. “Touch yourself if you need, sweetheart. I want you to cum for me.”

Nodding your head quickly in understanding, you reach a hand between your legs, fingers rubbing circles against your clit. Yoongi hisses as your walls clench around him, responding to the additional stimulation, but his pace doesn’t falter. Because you feel so fucking good.

“Babe, I’m--,” he grunts, hips moving faster, his fingers digging into the skin on your legs. You can tell from the angle of his brow, the tenseness of his jaw—that he’s close. But you’re close too. So close—right there—…almost.

“I’m—I just n-need a minute,” you gasp, fingers working faster, desperate, and Yoongi curses.

“You’re asking for a lot, Y/N—”

“Asshole, just—”

“Fuck,” Yoongi sudden grounds out, his body shuddering, and before you can react his hand drops from your leg and moves to grip your throat. The pads of his fingers press sternly against your skin, his rhythm faltering, but—

Heat sears in your gut, his fingers making you feel a bit fuzzy, and without warning your orgasm mingles with his. The room descends into groans, bodies heaving, both of your blisses dragging out, and the pleasure that you had kindled slowly withers. But it doesn’t die out.

“Christ,” Yoongi groans, head dropping, sweat covered bangs sticking to his forehead. You laugh, reaching up to cup his cheek, and his eyes crack open.

“I thought you said you needed a minute!”

“I did! But then, you—,” you respond, flushing with embarrassment. “You grabbed my neck and I just…”

Yoongi laughs, shifting to pull his softening cock out of you, and he winces a little at the sensitivity.

“Glad I could help you discover a new kink. Though, you’re a lot less...vanilla…than I expected you to be, based off of what I gathered from you back at the bar.”

“And I never expected that you’d want to fuck me based off of what I gathered from you back at the bar,” you respond smartly, and Yoongi rolls his eyes, smacking your thigh.

“But here we are.”

“Can’t argue that,” he grumbles, sliding off the bed and moving to grab a fresh pair of boxers. You just laugh, remaining where you are and watching him as he gets dressed.

“Nice ass,” you comment. Yoongi tenses, but you see the amused smile threatening to form on his lips.

“Fuck you,” he responds.

“You just did~,” you say, finally moving to gather your own clothes, and this time Yoongi sighs, a disbelieving laugh mixed in as well.

“I need a drink.”

#yoongi smut #fic #bts fic #bts smut #suga smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi #suga

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