#Alcohol use
Text
The Devil Made Me Do It *Mature* 👻
Summary: Upon receiving a mysterious and anonymous invitation to a Halloween party, a chauffeur takes you to an LA mansion estate for the party; where you meet your mystery man for an All Hallow's Eve you'll never forget.
Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader + Mystery Character/Reader
Word Count: 9.8k
Warning: M - Secrets, Mystery, Alcohol Use, Scares, Costumes, Flirting, Teasing, Language, Mysterious Behavior, Longing, Fluff, Angst, Co-Workers to Lovers - SMUT - Unprotected sex, Fingering: (F - Receiving), Voyeurism, Exhibitionism, Oral: (F - Receiving), Masturbation, Orgasm Control, Praise, Dirty Talk, Possible Corruption and Dub-Con, Light Dom, Aftercare
Inspiration: It’s Halloween and Kinktober! Posting now for Friday, the 13th!
Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy this! Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!
If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLISTand turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!
“So, who is your date?” Your best friend asked, glancing at you through the mirror you were using to put the finishing touches on your Harley Quinn costume.
“I don't know.” You answered, turning your head side to side, making sure you'd gotten everything perfect. “I just got a card delivered, stating it was from someone I know and asking if I would join them for an enchanting night.”
“And you're sure it's not from a stalker?” She asked, planting her hands on her hips.
“I'm sure it's not, Maggie.” You giggled at her, shaking your head. “Few people know my nickname, and it was noted on the card. So, I know it's from someone inside our circle of friends. Stop fretting over it.” You told her, getting up and facing her. “If it's someone I don't like in our circle or I'm uncomfortable with, I'll call you.”
“You better!” Maggie huffed, wagging a finger at you.
“Yes, ma'am.” You smirked, giving her a quick hug. “I have to go, they asked me to meet them at nine. Have fun handing out candy and protecting the house from tricksters!” You called out to her, grabbing your jacket and black, cross body, boho bag as you headed out the door.
You were about to unlock your car, when another pulled up at the bottom of the driveway, a matte black Cadillac Lyriq, and a man in a classy, black suit stepped out of the driver's seat, casting his eyes around as if to make sure he had the right address, before settling them on you.
“Are you the young lady that lives here?” He asked, motioning to the two-story house you lived in with Maggie, positioned on a cliff that gave the two of you access to your own private sandy beach on the LA coast.
“One of them.” You answered, narrowing your eyes at him suspiciously. “Can I help you?”
“Yeah.” He nodded, going into the inside pocket of his jacket to pull out a small, black card and approached you with it held out. “I was told to give you this, then take you downtown.”
Taking the card from him, you read the gilded, blood-red lettering on it: 'My love, please allow me to treat you on this night together. My driver, Marco, will ensure you arrive safely, so we may enjoy our spooky festivities.'
“A lot of cloak and dagger going on with your employer.” You smirked at Marco, touched and amused, as you tucked the card into your bag.
Marco smirked and nodded his head. “Yes, he's having a good time with it. But he's quite eager to meet up with you.” He chuckled, offering his arm to you as you started down the slightly sloped driveway and ushered you to the back passenger-side door, opening it and handing you inside.
You settled in the backseat, pulling your mobile from your bag and texted Maggie. He sent me a chauffeur.
Maggie: Fancy!
During the drive, you snapped some photos of yourself, posting them on your Instagram, wishing everyone; family, friends and fans alike, a happy Halloween before pocketing it and glancing out the window. The quiet hills you lived in, dotted with beautiful homes, started to fall away for the speed and lights of downtown Los Angeles. Traffic thickened, forcing Marco to slow the Cadillac down until it stopped several cars behind a red light.
“Are you allowed to tell me where we're going?” You asked, leaning forward between the front seats. “Or is that to remain a secret?” You smirked as Marco glanced sideways at you.
“I am sworn to secrecy, my lady.” He smirked, winked and got the car rolling again.
Marco drove you across LA to the posh side of the City of Angels, where all of the famous people called home or a vacation getaway. He maneuvered the winding road, until pulling up to a towering, black ornate gate, pausing to enter the pass code, rolling the gate back and permitting you.
“Wow.” You uttered, eyes popping and mouth dropping, seeing the enormous mansion with a circle driveway and bubbling fountain, as you leaned even further between the seats, craning your neck to look out the front window.
It was elaborately decorated; nothing was left for the imagination with its decorations, and it was clear the owner of the home had no issue spending the money on their expenses. Pumpkin lights lined the driveway, the windows at the front of the house were backlit and flickering back and forth between orange and green, with vast and long threads of spiderwebs and cobwebs over them. There were hanging ghosts and skeletons in the trees, an extensive graveyard to one side, with body parts poking out of the mock graves. Everywhere you looked, something caught your eye, impressing you more and more.
“He really went all out.” You chuckled, as Marco stopped at the front door, the stairs leading up to the double doors flanked by massive gargoyles with glowing red eyes.
“Oh, this isn't his home.” Marco answered, releasing his seatbelt. “This is the home of a colleague. He was given an invitation to attend their party here and it had a plus one on it. So, he asked you to join him.” He explained, getting out of the car and opening your door.
“Ah.” You blinked, confused as you took his hand and slipped out of the car, met with a thump of distant music and festivities. “So, how am I supposed to meet my date?” You asked, lifting a brow at him.
“Go inside,” Marco said, motioning to the doors. “The butler at the door will ask you for the code word. It's 'Beetlejuice'. Once you've been admitted, ask them to show you to Lucifer's room.”
“Lucifer?” You purred, amused.
“Yes, ma'am.” He chuckled, nodding. “With that, I wish you a good evening and a happy Halloween.” He said, kissing your hand and getting back into the car.
“Cloak and Dagger much?” You snorted and made your way up the steps. “Oh Christ!” You yelped, as the gargoyles on either side of you came to life, roaring and turning their heads towards you, dropping their bottom jaws open. “Rude.” You panted, composing yourself as the front doors swung open, letting out a flow of music and murmur of voices from inside, and revealing a man dressed as a zombie-butler.
“Madam.” He regarded you, with a thick Scottish accent. “Are you here for the party?”
“I am.” You answered him, making it to the top of the stairs. “I believe the password is, Beetlejuice.”
He bowed his painted face. “Correct.” He turned and lifted a hand to usher you inside. “Please, come in. I'm Mr. Davison, should you require anything during your stay here, please find me.” He told you, closing the doors as the two of you stepped into a grand foyer, two twisting staircases on either side, leading up to a landing on the second floor. On the ground floor were three hallways, one straight ahead between the staircases, where you could see flashing lights with the bump and sway of bodies, and two hallways on either side of you.
“There is one thing you can help with, Mr. Davison.” You said over the noise, turning to face him. “I'm actually a plus one to an invited guest of this party. I was told by the driver my date sent to bring me, to ask to be shown to Lucifer's room.” You explained to him, biting your painted lip, while studying his gray, black and bloody face, butterflies filling your stomach. “Whomever Lucifer is, since he's been secretive about his identity since asking me out.”
Davison smirked, his dark eyes dancing with amusement, clearly knowing who your date and Lucifer was. “Of course, right this way.” He said, before guiding you up the left staircase.
You could feel the vibration of music through the floor as you followed him down the decorated hallway. Each door on either side decorated a different theme, such as Jack and Sally from Nightmare Before Christmas, Jason's mask and bloody machete from Friday the 13th, a Gothic door with an image of Bela Lugosi from Dracula and the doll, Jigsaw, from SAW. Davison stopped before a door, it was red with the silhouette of a pair of angel wings and a flaming halo with black horns.
“Lucifer.” You mumbled to yourself, watching Davison knock loud enough to be heard above the noise of the party, you were distracted by the zombie-butler stepping aside, as the door opened and revealed your date.
“You made it!” They declared to them, excited and relieved that you had come.
“Of course!” You answered, finally looking up at him, only to have your mouth drop open.
Standing before you in a stylish pair of black slacks, a matching vest over a light-gray dress shirt, the first few buttons undone and the long sleeves rolled up his forearms. At first, it wasn't much of an impressive costume, until you studied his face, he wore a touch of black eye-liner, that was slightly smudged, and poised on his forehead was a pair of glue-on horns, well blended in to match his skin color with at touch of red, as if it was a pain for him to have horns breaking through his otherwise angelic appearance.
“Henry!” You squeaked, surprised to see the Brit standing there, imitating Lucifer Morningstar from the DC comic and hit tv show.
“Hey.” He grinned, moving forward and hugging you. “You look great!” He said, stepping back again to look over your Harley Quinn costume, loving the gold, argyle overalls, pink sports bra, pink and blue hair and make-up. “You nailed Harley.” He commented, meeting your eyes again, finally noticing your surprise that he was the one that asked you out. “Oh.” He blushed, carding a hand through his hair.
“Right, I suppose I should explain myself. Why don't you come in?” He suggested stepping aside so you could enter the room. “Do you want something to drink? Davison can get you something.” He said, looking between you and the butler. “Anything you want.”
“We have several Halloween themed cocktails, wines, whiskey and such.” Davison told you, reappearing before the door.
“I'll have one of your cocktails.” You answered, with a small nod. “I'll leave that to your recommendation.”
“I would appreciate a refill as well, Davison.” Henry added in, with a polite nod.
“I'll bring them, presently.” He nodded back, and started downstairs.
“So, you're my date.” You said, entering the room with Henry, finding it was a sitting room that led into a bedroom.
“I am.” Henry smirked, closing the door. “I hope you're not...disappointed.” He said, looking at you with blue eyes that truly wished you weren't.
“I'm not at all disappointed.” You assured him, offering him a sweet smile. “Just surprised.” You confessed to him, pressing your lips together. “We had a couple interactions during the filming of Mission Impossible, but I wouldn't have guessed enough for you to notice me and to ask me out on a mysterious date to a high end LA party.”
“Oh, I noticed you the moment we were in the same room together.” He told you the truth of his feelings for you all over his face. “I tried drumming up the courage to ask you out so many times in those three months. I just kept chickening out, because I didn't think you'd say yes or be interested. So, when my friend sent me an invitation to his party here, you were my first thought on who to bring. But, again, I didn't think you'd say yes. Especially after we hadn't seen each other in a couple months. However, he suggested I send you a note asking you to come and send my driver to pick you up, to see what would happen.”
“You think I would say no to you?” You frowned at him, your brow pinching. “God, I would have said yes in a heartbeat.” You blurted out, shamelessly. “I admit, I wasn't going to come. I was suspicious about the motives and a little worried that it was set up by my stalker.”
Henry's face went blank for a moment, before it filled with worry and how stupid he felt. “I am so sorry. I didn't know you had a stalker, or I would have never been so secretive. I would have just asked you out right. I hope I didn't put you through any anxiety.”
You chuckled at him, shaking your head. “No, you didn't.” You assured him, waving it off. “You just set off my protective roommate, Maggie, who I should probably text and tell who my mystery man is, at some point.” You said, finding the whole thing amusing now.
There was a knock on the door and Davison came in with a small platter holding your and Henry's drinks, a skeleton hand wine-glass with a red shimmer liquid and a black substance around the rim. Beside that was Henry's squat glass of whiskey on the rocks, the ice shaped like a bone.
“Your Vampire's Kiss.” Davison said, as you took your glass. “Spiced rum, Cran-Grape juice, Grenadine and black sanding sugar.” He listed off the ingredients as you took a careful sip.
“Mmm.” You moaned, nodding your head. “Positively enchanting, thank you.”
“My pleasure.” He smiled, tucking the platter under his arm. “Enjoy your evening and the festivities.” He bid you and Henry, then saw himself out.
“Well, would you like to look around?” Henry asked, swilling his drink. “There's dancing and a bar downstairs and I've been told the backyard of the house has quite the surprise.”
“I'm not much for dancing.” You confessed, a shy smile crossing your face.
Henry looked a tad relieved at your words. “That's more than fine. I'm not either.” He chuckled, glancing down into the amber liquid in his glass. “The backyard then?”
“The backyard.” You nodded, smirking with an excited giddiness.
Nodding, Henry polished off his drink and set it on a small coffee table that was in the sitting room. You finished yours and put it beside his, then dropped your bag on the floor under the table. Henry opened the door, letting you enter the thrumming hallway first and followed, taking a key out of his pocket and locked the door behind you both.
“Worried about something?” You inquired, as he pocketed the key again.
“No.” He answered, shaking his head with a blank expression. “Better safe than sorry, I suppose.” He admitted, pressing his hand over the key. “Anyway, let's find out what's in the backyard.” He smiled, offering his hand out to you.
“If it's as good as the rest of the decorations I've seen, it'll be great.” You smiled back, taking his hand.
The two of you descended the spiral staircase you'd come up earlier, Henry paused and looked towards the hallway that led into the room where all the dancing was occurring, then looked at you.
“It's a little warm in here.” He said, even though it was cool in the foyer. “Why don't we go out the front and walk around the side?” He suggested, with an arched brow.
“Sounds fine to me.” You nodded, content with not going through the press of bodies on the dance floor to make it to the backyard.
Giving you a wink, Henry shifted your hand to his forearm and walked you to the entry, nodding to Davison. “We'd like to take a little stroll.” He informed the man, who nodded back and pulled open the double doors for you. “Thank you kindly.”
“So, are you in LA only for the party?” You asked as the two of you went down the steps, while mentally preparing yourself not to get frightened by the gargoyles again.
“No.” Henry chuckled, glancing away from you with a bashful smirk. “I just finished filming a movie in England. The first Enola Holmes movie, where I play Sherlock Holmes.” He explained, looking left and right for a moment, before guiding you towards the left. “I came out here after I finished, to take a little vacation, and suppose they heard I was in town and invited me.”
“A vacation, is that all?” You smirked at him, having a sneaking suspicion the Brit may have had an extra motive for coming out.
“Well,” He droned, rolling his eyes with a guilty smirk. “There may have been a certain lady I hoped to catch up with, while I was in the city.” He confessed, shooting you a glance from the corner of his eye. “Thankfully for me, I had the opportunity to.”
“Mmm, yes.” You nodded, cocking a brow at him and pressing your lips together. “Lucky for you.”
He patted your hand and grinned with boy-ish pride. “He really went all out for decor.” He commented, rounding the corner with you, to get met with tall, manicured hedges covered in webs and skeletons trying to break through and coming at you. The entryway cut into the hedges was covered with chains, obscuring your view of what was on the other side.
“That he did.” You agreed, twisting to look at the graveyard behind you. “I really like that makeshift graveyard over there. Very fright night.” You commented, rather eager to see what Henry's friend had down in their backyard. “Let's go in!” You giggled, moving towards the chain-cover entrance, your hand slipping down Henry's forearm, until you caught his hand and could pull him through after you.
Chuckling, Henry let you drag him into the side yard, finding scarecrows on either side, a bloody butcher's knife through the body of one as it rested on a cross of thin wooden poles and the another hung from the branch of a tree, swaying in the gentle, evening breeze. There were a few more graves, lining the path, leading towards the back of the house.
“Declan Hunley.” You read one of the grave markers. “Born 1879, dead 1910, killed for not looking behind him.” You frowned and looked up at Henry. “That's a weird mess-” You shrieked as the grave on the other side of the path burst open to reveal a gnarled zombie crawling out, growling and hissing, as you scrambled behind Henry in your terror.
Henry's heart rocked in his chest in surprise, instinctively putting an arm out between you and the flesh-eating monster. But a smile soon crossed his lips, guiding you around the zombie, who made decent grabs at your ankles, however made no attempt to crawl out of his grave to follow after you.
“Oh my gosh.” You panted, brushing your multi-colored hair out of your face, with shaking hands.
“It's all right.” Henry cooed, resting his hand on the small of your back, rubbing gentle circles. “I think he's still snacking on poor Declan.” He quipped, smirking at you.
You managed to laugh a little bit, your heart rate slowing down and collecting yourself. “Well, we know what the tombstone meant.” You sighed, shaking your head, feeling foolish for falling for it. “Suckered me.” You chuckled, then cast your eyes out over the backyard. “Oh wow.” You mumbled, eyes widening as your mouth dropped agape.
Henry turned and his brows went up. “Damn. I'll hand it to him, he didn't spare a shilling for all of this.” He commented, taking in the immaculate backyard.
The three sets of double doors leading out from where the dancing and bar was set up were open and brought out the sound of voices and music with them. There was a trickle of people on the patio, which was lit by standing torches of orange, green and red. Sitting on the furniture or huddled around the couple of blazing fire pits, were a few hired staff helping them roast marshmallows for S'mores or brew hot chocolate. Beyond the patio, were tall hedges and party-goers funneling into the opening, stopped only by someone at the entrance, before vanishing into the dark and glowing fog.
“I wonder what they're doing?” You muttered to yourself, brow creasing with curiosity.
“We can find out, if you want?” Henry said beside you, his head cocking to the side to see your face.
“Let's go!” You smiled, clapping your hands and dashing forward.
Henry laughed, amused and touched at your enthusiasm, before following after you. You were stopped at the entrance of the mysterious attraction by a man dressed up in a torn and bloody lab coat. A tall fridge with a clear door stood beside him, filled with green, red and blue test tubes.
“Beware!” The bedraggled doctor wheezed, reaching out to prevent you and Henry from going any further. “There's a deadly pathogen inside the maze!” He panted, looking back and forth between the two of you frantically; as if you had the cure and answer.
“Oh no!” You gasped back at him, bringing a hand to your chest, dramatically, making Henry snort behind you. “It sounds terrible!” You whimpered, trying to hold back a giggle.
“It is!” He agreed, not breaking character, while pulling open the fridge door. “There's only one way to make it through, without succumbing to the pathogen. It's by taking this antidote.” He waved a hand over the display, before taking two out and handing you a red tube and Henry, the blue.
The label on your tube told you the antidote was made from white rum and cherry liqueur, while Henry's was made of Curaçao and SVEDKA, blue raspberry flavored vodka. Uncapping and tossing the red antidote back, the chilled liquid burned down your throat into your stomach, and finally out through your veins. Mixing with the wine you had in Henry's room. Drinking down his own antidote and tossing the empty tube in the provided bin, the doctor finally let you pass. Entering the foggy maze, constructed out of the manicured hedges, stone planters with beautiful and exotic flowers. There were LED lights tucked into the dense and dark-green leaves, flickering in an off-rhythm, giving the already dark and close passages a disorienting feel.
“This is so cool!” You giggled, bouncing on your toes and turning back to look at Henry, who walked close behind you.
“Yeah, it is.” He agreed, glancing behind him, hearing a screech that was all too human, from somewhere else in the maze. “He really went all out for Halloween.” He looked back to you and smiled, finding the two of you had come to a three way.
“Which way should we go?” You asked, looking around, before looking at Henry.
“Hmm.” He hummed, glancing about, then smirked at you. “This way.” He said, jerking his head to the left, taking your hand and led you down the footpath.
“Do you know where you're going?” You asked, frowning at his back.
“I might.” Henry answered, casting a teasing glance over his shoulder.
“Shady Devil.” You teased, smirking at him.
After a couple twists and turns, the two of you came to a dead end that was adorned with a massive marble statue of a half-naked archer, shooting her arrow into the skies and a bench at her feet. There was a square lantern hanging from the tip of the Archer's arrow and two on the bench, casting an eerie, flickering, orange glow in the dark mist that surrounded you. But you were apprehensive about the skeleton sitting on the bench with them.
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. But fool me three times, screw that! You thought, eyeing it. But the flickering light and swirl of fog played tricks on you, making it difficult to tell if the skeleton was twitching or not.
“I don't trust it.” You said aloud, and Henry's chuckle filled the enchanted space.
“I wouldn't blame you, love.” He admitted, cautious himself about the authenticity of the skeleton, however taking a gallant step forward to find out. “I think the poor chap died of whatever pathogen is in the maze though.” He quipped, making himself laugh and you rolled your eyes, amused. Reaching the skeleton without it jumping out at him, Henry put his hand on top of its cranium and gave it a gentle shake, causing the rest of the body to rattle on the bench, revealing it to be a prop.
“We're safe from another scare.” Henry declared, picking it up and setting it aside, making room for the two of you to sit down together. “I am really glad you came.” He said, as you sat down beside him. “I know I already said it, but I am.”
“I'm really happy that I came as well.” You smiled at him, feeling the heat already in your cheeks from your alcohol consumption increase, but the cool night helped keep it under control.
Henry grinned, giddy to hear it. “Kal really missed you, after you finished filming your scenes in Norway.” He confessed, chuckling as he fussed with the skull fob on the end of a pocket watch chain he had attached to the front of his vest.
“Oh, Kal missed me, did he?” You purred, amused.
“Yeah, Kal.” He nodded, glancing up at you, his blue eyes dark and holding a gaze that sent a shiver down your back. “Are you cold?” He asked, a playful and coy smirk curling up one corner of his mouth as he moved a little closer to you, offering the warmth of his body.
“I'm either cold or the pathogen is setting in.” You sighed softly, biting your lower lip and tucking yourself into his side, a quiet moan escaping your throat as the weight of Henry's strong arm slotted around your shoulders.
It was all of sudden that you were aware of how close Henry's mouth was to yours, his eyes still trained on your face, waiting—watching—for your reaction. Were you going to push him away or were you going to let him go all the way?
Screw it!
You leaned forward and locked lips with him, feeling Henry smile for a moment before meeting your kiss. His palm moved to cup your nape, fingers curling into your hair and nails grazing your scalp, ever so lightly, drawing another shiver out of you. Henry's other hand moved around to your hip and tugged you closer to him, all but pulling you into his lap. The kiss is slow and easy at first, feeling each other out, testing the waters to see if it was right. Then, as if your minds connected like Bluetooth, the embrace became hungry. Fingers slipped into the armholes of his vest and your back straightened as you made little tugs on the soft fabric, needing to feel him closer against you.
“Henry.” You whimpered into his mouth, lashes fluttering open, hearing his breathing deepen, watching and feeling his chest heave.
His lips brushed yours, the warm puffs of his pants caressing your face as his eyes bored into yours, arms dropping around your waist and squeezing you against his rigid body. He felt the same longing that showed in your eyes, and wanted nothing more than to fulfill it. His palms moved up your back and made for the straps of your overalls, shoving one off your shoulders and unclasping the other. Leaning away for the zipper in the middle, unzip it, making it fall off your shoulders completely, to gather around your waist, giving Henry a nice peek at the black lace, bikini panties you were wearing.
“Mmm.” He hummed, smirking at you with half lidded eyes. “Not shorts?” He rasped, tracing the tip of his finger along the wavy edge, before giving the waistband a playful pop.
You felt a slight heat of embarrassment in the pit of your stomach, but your expression was bashful. “Didn't expect any fallen Angels to sneak a peek down my overalls.” You quipped, playfully pushing a button at the top of his vest open.
“It was far too tempting.” Henry murmured, leaning in to kiss you once more, while his hand caressed your bare side, your skin dancing at the feather light contact, before it grazed the waistband of your panties.
Pausing, he meets your eyes once more, seeking permission. You answered it with a nip at his bottom lip and went in for another heated and heady kiss. With an amused rumble, Henry pushed his hand beyond the barrier, drawing out the magical sound against his mouth, when his fingertips dusted over your throbbing clit. He teased you, only giving you the lightest of touch, as if a ghost was tormenting you from the great beyond. Hands moving to the last three buttons of Henry's vest, you opened his dress shirt and pushed your hands inside of it, finding the burning and hard packed muscles he worked so hard on, every day, dusted with dark hair. You lightly dragged your blue, red and white painted nails down his chest; Henry growled and let out a sharp hiss, giving you a narrow-eyed look.
“Oh!” A voice rang out, before Henry could repay your action. “I am so sorry!”
Almost all of your arousal vanished, you quickly fixed your clothing and tried to act as casual as possible but struggled to meet the other party-goer's eyes. Henry on the other hand, had little qualms, having embodied his costume's entity.
“That's quite all right.” He chuckled, not bothering to button his open shirt, showing off his bare chest and nail marks. “Wrong turns happen.” He smirked, his face morphing into this delighted, sinister expression.
“Yeah, this place is a serious maze.” The man, dressed as a Roman soldier, answered, his startled eyes still moving back and forth between you.
“It is.” Henry nodded, his tone hinting for him to go on his way. “There's many more dead ends like this one, I'm sure you'll find.”
Blinking, then finally getting it, the Roman soldier turned and vanished into the fog and dark of the maze, leaving you and Henry once again alone.
“Well, that was interesting.” He laughed, looking back to you, finally buttoning his shirt.
“Yeah, you can say that.” You answered with a half-hearted laugh.
Biting his lip, feeling the mood had been destroyed and sighed softly. “You want to finish the maze?” He asked, offering you a smile, brows lifted in question. “Or we could go back inside?” He added, brow creasing a little.
You balanced the options, seeing the rest of the maze and what was at the end intrigued you, but finishing what you and Henry started was still a rage inferno between your thighs. “I think it's a bit too nippy out here for what I have on.” You answered, licking your lip and eyeing Henry.
“You know,” He replied, glancing thoughtfully. “I believe you're right.” He said, giving a soft shiver himself, his massive shoulders quaking. “Let's go back inside.” He cooed, fixing his vest and standing to offer you his arm.
Taking it, you retraced your steps back to the start of the maze, nodding to the Mad Doctor, who was restocking the antidotes, quickly moved by the grave with the awaiting zombie at the side of the house, and were met yet again by Davison at the door, as he opened them to greet you.
“I hope you found the attractions and festivities to your liking?” He inquired, shutting the doors behind you.
“We did.” Henry nodded, smiling at you. “He went all out for his Halloween party. It's quite amazing.”
“Yeah, it's gotten my heart beat up several times.” You chuckled, smiling back. “Not a party I'll forget.”
“I'm pleased to hear it, and so will he.” Davison smiled, pleased.
“We're going to retire upstairs for a bit.” Henry informed him with a wink, leading you towards the staircase. “Have a good evening, Davis.”
“And you.” He called back.
“No.” He chuckled, smiling down at his bare feet. “It is rare. But this isn't really an occasion to bring him along. So, I left him with a good friend.”
“Mmm.” You hummed, leaning back against the bed's footboard to unlace your shoes. “I suppose not.” You agreed, flexing your toes and glancing up at him. “You want to help me?” You asked, gesturing to your overalls. “You seemed quite the expert out in the maze.” You quipped, impishly.
Pursing his lips and giving you a hungry look, Henry strode forward, closing the gap between you easily with his long legs, and took the zipper between his fingers again, but now, he took his time. You watched him work the clasp gently down the molten-gold fabric, revealing more and more of you as it reached its end, between your legs. Henry smirked at your panties, discovering they were not only sheer, but sported a nice, growing wet patch.
“Do you like it when I touch you?” He asked in a breath voice, nimble fingers moving to your straps, caressing the skin beneath it, before flicking it open, the overalls slipping to one side.
“You don't see me stopping you, do you?” You quipped back, as the last strap fell from your shoulder and your outfit started to slip down your body.
He shook his head, hands moving up to the buttons of his shirt, but your hand came up to brush them aside, intent on doing that yourself. Pushing each black button through their hole with painstaking care, knowing Henry was impatient about picking up where you left off outside. You moaned softly, tugging the tucked in fabric from the waistband of his pants and pushing his shirt off his shoulders and arms. You were slow to pull his belt free of their loops, admiring the growing bulge at the front of his slacks. With his belt free, you curled your fingers around the waistband of his pants and boxer briefs, only to be stopped by Henry's hands grasping your wrists.
“What?” You frowned, looking up at him.
“Top.” He answered, motioning to it with his head. “Off.”
“I think I'm a little more naked than you are.” You stated, raising a brow at him.
“I'll be naked the moment you pull my pants and underwear down.” He countered with a smirk.
You took a deep breath, then nodded. “Fair.” You chuckled, pulling your hands away to remove your pink sports bra. “Better, you devil?” You teased, tossing the article of clothing over his head.
“Much, my little joker.” He rasped, cupping one of your breasts in his hand and rubbing its hardened nub with the pad of his thumb. “You can finish your task now.” He said, leaning in to kiss you.
“Mm, thanks.” You mumbled against his mouth, hands blindly finding their way back to his waist, tugging at it, and trying not to be distracted by his lips and hands working their magic on you. “Bat above, you're evil.” You whimpered to the pinch he gave your breast, sending a tingle to your still clothed clit.
Henry turned his head, lips brushing the helix of your ear. “I'm not Lucifer for nothing, my dear.” He whispered, allowing his accent to dip and deepen.
Your knees weakened and you let out a breathy whimper. “Good lord.” You gulped, grasping the back of his arms for support.
“I'd rather keep his name to a minimum.” Henry quipped, with a playful attempt at a wink.
“Classic.” You giggled, tilting your head back to brush your lips against his stubbly jaw. “Apologies, Prince of Darkness.” You teased, hand trailing down his torso to his semi-hard cock, closing your fingers around the heated flesh.
Henry hissed in your ear, hooked an arm around your waist and snagged you against him, lifting you off your feet and moving around to the side of the bed, setting you down on it. He paused for a moment, to turn out the lights, then joined you again, where you had fixed yourself correctly on the comfortable mattress and about to slip your undies off.
“No.” He rumbled, slipping between your legs and gently pushing your hands away. “Those are mine.” He informed you, taking a hold of the delicate fabric and started to slip them off. “Oh, you smell so tasty.” He cooed, catching a whiff of your glistening folds, tossing your panties aside and leaning closer with a lick of his lips.
Gulping, you melted back against the pillows as Henry's mouth closed around your slick, vibrating your sensitive need with a rumble of carnal lust. You pawed at the duvet beneath you, rolling your hips against his working mouth, tongue parting your folds to collect the dripping nectar flowing from your cavern. You whimpered and squeezed your thighs against his head, feeling his horns brush your heated and trembling skin, building the numb and tingling sensation at the pit of your stomach.
“Oh, Henry!” You whimpered, a hand moving into the curls at the back of his head. “Oh, plea-fuck!” You cried out, back arching as Henry pressed two heavy fingers onto your swollen pearl, rubbing at it in a rhythm to his mouth and drawing you over the edge swiftly.
Blinded by your orgasm, you didn't notice the figure entering the room with you and Henry for a moment. But caught the moving shape at the foot of the bed, slowly coming down and through your blurred vision, it paused, before shifting to the chair in the corner.
“Henry.” You panted, the heightening tone of alarm in your voice.
“Ssshh.” He hushed you, slowly kissing his way up your seething body until his face was nuzzled between the valley of your bosom, tasting the thin layer of exertion on your burning skin. “It's all right, love.” He heaved, his breath raising goose flesh in its wake.
“But-” You started to protest, shaking your head and trying to focus on the figure seated in the corner, feeling their eyes on you. “There's some-” You tried to warn him breathily, as his mouth encompassed one of your breasts. “Someone's in-”
“I know.” He moaned around your taut areola, before tilting his head for a second to glance at your strange guest. “It's just Gus.” He purred, a naughty smile on his lips and returned back to his worship of your body.
“August?” You whimpered, brows furrowing at his name and Henry's intent suckling. “Henry.” You sighed, eyes fluttering shut and hands pressing to Henry's broad back, letting go and getting washed away with the moment.
Smiling from his vantage point in the corner, the chair angled just right, August watched you and Henry in bed. He knew the two of you, having worked on a couple projects with Henry over the years and met you during the filming of Fall Out. When Henry told him he intended to ask you to the party, his interest and intrigue was set into motion, intent on having some of you for himself, informing Henry of this, and having Davison keep a close eye on you and Henry. So, upon hearing the two of you had been found canoodling in the maze, then scampering back upstairs to Henry's room, Davison rushed to find his boss and informed him that love was in the air between the two of you.
August left where he was entertaining in his study and moved upstairs to Henry's room, using a master key he had for every room on his estate and slipped into the darkened room, like a stealthy panther stalking its prey. Removing and turning off his light up Purge mask, he found you sprawled out on the bed, whimpering Henry's name, while his skillful mouth ate you out, like it was one of the Brit's decadent cheat meals. Hovering in the doorway between the sitting room and the bedroom, waiting—watching...you slip off the cliff of your orgasm, crying out and writhing as you fell; then moved to the bottom of the bed, to reach out and touch Henry's foot.
Alerting him that he had shown up.
He repressed a chuckle, while you tried alerting Henry to his presence, and moved towards the chair, making himself comfortable. But Henry reassured you that it was perfectly all right. It was just your good friend, August, in the room with you, and you had no reason to fret. He opened the front of his rough and semi-black jeans, lifting his hips off the chair just enough to push his pants and briefs down, allowing his rigid cock to spring free of the tight confines and rest heavily against the white dress shirt he had on. He closed his fist around the slick head of his shaft, a deep rumbling moan boiled in his throat as he slowly started to stroke himself, eyes locked on you and Henry intertwining together in bed.
Your quivering legs locked loosely around his thick thighs, while Henry's mouth was like a suction cup against the column of your throat, working in tandem to his steely manhood rubbing against your heated folds, coating the taut and veiny flesh with your sweet essence. Your quiet whimpers and mewls spurred on both men, putting cracks in August's usual calm and controlled demeanor, and pushed Henry to impatience, struggling with his will to warm you up, before diving deep into you, headfirst.
“Take her.” August rasped, abandoning his cock for a second to open his shirt and toss it aside, not wanting to soil it any more than the few wet spots of pre-come, and returned to pleasuring himself.
Henry snapped a look over his shoulder, face flushed and sweaty. “She's mine, Gus.” He hissed at the other man, eyes a dark cobalt with lust and feeling territorial.
“I belong to no one!” You wheezed, dizzy and drunk from Henry's attention.
A smirk pulled across both men's lips, and Henry looked down at you, brushing damp and colorful strands of hair off your sweaty forehead and placing a gentle kiss to the bridge of your nose.
“Of course, my love.” He cooed at you, stroking the side of your face with the back of his fingers. “We know you don't.” He said, kissing the corner of your mouth. “My apologies.” He whispered against your lips.
You sighed against his mouth and shook your head again, lifting your heavy arms to tangle your fingers into his hair. “I want you.” You murmured, nudging your nose against his, legs squeezing his to pull him in closer. “Please, Henry.” You gulped, eyes fluttering open to gaze up at him.
“As you wish.” He replied quietly, pulling back slightly and slipping a hand between your bodies, grasping and stroking himself for a moment, before lining his weeping, heart-shaped tip with your glistening honeypot. “Oh god, you're so snug, Bug.” He purred, easing himself in, bit by bit, as he leaned back over you, bracing himself on his elbows, loving how you wrapped around him.
“Shit.” August grunted, fixated on Henry entering you, your folds sealing around his girth like a tailor-made glove, while trying to picture his own manhood in its place, squeezing his shaft in an attempt to replicate it.
Henry's thrusts were short and measured, rocking into you with an easy pace, almost matching the beat of the music that was bleeding through the floor downstairs. It was both what you wanted and also drove you nuts, wanting him to drive you through the bed, to turn your insides to pudding. You rocked your hips in-tune to his, one hand clawing down his sweat drenched back to dig into the meat of his bum and thrust your other hand between your bodies to find your neglected clit.
“Don't you dare come.” Henry growled at you, pressing his body down on yours, trapping you against the mattress and immobilizing your hand from pleasuring yourself. “Not without me.” He panted, holding your gaze.
You were caught off guard for a moment, before arching an amused brow at him. “Fine.” You smirked, giving him a nice pat on the butt.
“Good girl.” He purred, capturing your lips and shifting his weight again, enabling you to stroke your pulsing clit, toes curling and walls quaking around Henry's cock, milking it. “How are you doing over there, Gus?” He chuckled, shooting the American a glance over his shoulder.
“Could be better.” August grunted back, slumped a little in his seat, working his cock as he continued to watch, the sound of Henry's cock moving inside of you filled the room with your soft whimpers and moans, it was like a perfect orchestra to his ears, making his balls tight, but he still wanted you for himself.
Henry brought his lips to your ear. “He's jealous.” He whispered in a roguish tone.
“Mmm.” You moaned back, half listening to what either of them were saying, drunk on the feeling of Henry inside of you and the pressure you were applying to your tender pearl, drenching you both even more to create a wet spot on the bed sheet beneath.
“She's getting fucked out.” August smirked, hearing your numb moans. “And you haven't even let her come again.” He chuckled, using his free hand to massage his heavy sack, growling deep in his chest and pressing his head against the back of the chair.
Henry felt his own loins tingle and spasm, begging to be unloaded inside your tight, hot core, which only drew him in with each thrust, attempting to hold him inside for your own salvation. Henry groaned, thrusting forward and almost losing himself to the pressure.
“I can't hold back anymore, Hen.” You mewled up at him, breathless and spent. “Please.”
“Me neither, love.” He sighed back, nuzzling the side of your sweaty neck for a moment, before slowly slipping free. “You wanna come with me, babe?” He panted, pulling up on his knees, but kept one elbow braced beside your head.
Moving a hand between your heaving bodies, Henry gently shoved aside your sluggishly moving hand from your mound, bringing it to his mouth and gently sucked on your honey saturated fingers, savoring the heady taste. With your hand clean, Henry took a hold of himself, stroking his length and rubbing his tip against your overstimulated folds at the same time, drawing out soft whimpers and moans. Your hands kneaded his sides, while you twitched and quivered beneath him, eyes fluttering in the back of your lids with streaks to tears going down your temples.
“Oh...Henry!” You hiccupped in short gasps, licking your parched lips. “I'm-m s-so c-close!” You gulped, nudging your face against his, blindly seeking his lips.
“I am too, love.” He wheezed back, increasing the friction. “Come with me.” He whispered, meeting your lips in a breathless kiss.
It was easy, with how close the pair of you were, so you just let go. Gushing over Henry's cock and drenching the sheets even more, while Henry jerked rope after rope of his hot seed over your glistening folds and heaving stomach, making your skin sticky with each expulsion of his loins. August watched with concupiscent awe, biting into his bottom lip and digging a shoe heel into the expensive rug at his feet, as his own orgasm peaked, flowing over his jerking fist and staining the black fabric of his jeans.
You, Henry and August let out a collective sigh as your climax waned. Henry's weary arms snaked around your body, while his body slowly tilted sideways, collapsing onto the mattress with an exhausted grunt and holding you to his chest. Sighing against his collarbone, your eyes fluttering shut, spent and sedated.
A touch to your back told you, you'd fallen asleep, stirring you back to the world of the living and from the warm bubble of Henry's body. Expecting to see Henry staring at you, you opened your eyes to his sleeping face and the deep puffs of his snores.
“Right here, gorgeous.” A deep timber whispered into your ear.
Turning your head, your eyes met August's, he was leaning over you, a smile plastered on his handsome face, and his hand still stroking the length of your back. “Gus?” You mumbled, sleepily blinking up at him.
August tapped a finger to his lips and cast his eyes to Henry. “Ssshh, don't wake him, sweetheart.” He cooed at you, sweetly. “He needs his rest.” He told you, before helping you carefully untangle from Henry's embrace and sit up on the edge of the bed.
“What are you doing, August?” You asked, looking up at him, even though you had your suspicions.
“Helping you clean up.” He answered, dipping his hand to your stomach, reminding you of Henry's dried release, that was still there. “I started a nice, warm shower for you.” He explained, taking your hands in his and pulled you to your feet, stretching your sore muscles.
“Sure, Gus.” You giggled, letting him guide you around the bed and into the bathroom, the sound of falling water filling your ears and blanket of warm steam wrapping around you as it filled the space. “You're only helping, so you can have your chance.” You smirked, not so out of it during your lovemaking with Henry to forget August's jealousy he was missing out.
August laughed, unconcerned of sound now that the door was closed. “So perceptive of you, Sugar.” He smirked, opening the door of the shower stall for you. “Unless you'd rather I leave you and Henry be.” He added, as you entered the shower, cocking a brow at you.
“Hmm.” You hummed, stepping under the pleasant spray of the showerhead, letting the water wash over you, before glancing at August over your shoulder. “Well, it would be a lie, if I said I hadn't thought about what it would be like to be with both of you.” You smirked, eyes dancing with mischief. “And Hen and I already had our fun.”
“You impish, little jester.” August growled, discarding the remains of his clothing and joined you, hugging an arm around your waist and pressing his chest against your back, his mouth finding your neck, the hairs of his immaculate mustache tickling your wet skin.
“Christ, August.” You moaned, his rock-hard manhood pressing against your butt. “I-” Your breath caught in your throat, August's hand closing around your mound, fingers oh-so-delicately caressing your pearl, waking it from its soreness.
“You what, Sugar?” He purred into your ear, nipping at its rim almost painfully. “Tell me.” He insisted, free hand coming up to cup your jaw and pull your back to rest against his shoulder.
“I want you.” You whimpered, chewing on your bottom lip and pushing up on your toes. “Take me, Gus.” You begged him, grinding against his manhood.
Smirking, August took a step forward, until you were trapped between him and the warm, smokey-gray subway tile of the shower wall. He spread your feet and gripped your hip with one hand, grasping his shaft in the other and teased your silky folds, only slipping just his tip between them to rim your passage, loving the feel of your quiver.
“So desperate for me to fill you up.” He chuckled, kneading your hip.
“August, please.” You huffed, still overstimulated from being with Henry and unable to take August's teasing. “Please, I need you inside of me.” You moaned, legs wobbling as he pushed the first half of his manhood into your ruined cavern, your knees almost giving out, had it not been for him and the wall holding you up.
“Stuff me.” You told him, mindlessly.
“I intend too, Sugar.” August smirked, gripping both of your hips and used them as leverage to ease the rest of himself inside of you, still taking his time, despite your continued begs and mewls. “You take me so well, sweetheart.” He panted, once he was settled, engulfed inside your pocket. “Henry did so well, opening you for me.” He chuckled, pressing a palm to the tile above your head and drew almost completely out, then drove back in, hammering into your sweet and sore spot, drawing out a cry from your lips that echoed in the stall.
“August!” You arched your back into his thrusts, cheek pressed against the wall and eyes squeezed shut. “Oh god.” You wheezed, breath fogging the glossy tile. “You feel so good, Gus.” You told him, your voice hardly above the sound of the shower head. “So good.” You mumbled to yourself, nursing your walls around his cock, feeling every ridge and vein as you did and every driving force of him moving inside of you.
“Oh, you're not going to last for me, are you, Sugar?” He cooed, stroking the back of your wet hair and squeezing the nape of your neck. “Just too fucked out.” He hummed, sensing and watching your body tremble as you did your best to fight off your orgasm. “That's all right, princess.” He said, kissing the top of your head and increasing the pace of his thrusts. “Let go.” He instructed you, locking an arm around your waist. “Come all over my cock, gorgeous.” He egged you on, until he felt your body quake and tense, a hot rush around his frenzied shaft.
“There you go, very good.” He praised you, lining kisses over your shoulder and neck, nuzzling his face there as he buried himself deep inside and let loose, pumping his load into your core and painting your walls, unlike Henry.
The two of you stood there for a long time, supporting each other against the shower wall with the water still raining down over you. Until August's skilled ears twitched to a squeak above the patter of water on the hexagon tiles and turned his head. A smirk pulled across his lips as he spied Henry through the clear glass of the shower doors, coming into the bathroom.
“Did we wake you, Hank?” He quipped, as the Brit stepped into the stall with you, a gush of chilly air invading the warm space, making you shiver against August's chest.
“Yes and no.” He replied, dipping his head under the shower head, soaking his curls. “I woke up, when I realized our little Harley Quinn wasn't in bed with me any longer and heard some of your shower fun.” He informed him, shaking his head, to flick the curls out of his face, and moved to stand beside August, looking down at you. “Looks like you're having a nice, little shower, love.” He smirked, seeing the expression of sedated and satisfied exhaustion on your face.
“Mmm.” You hummed back, blinking up at him.
Both men chuckled at you, shaking their heads.
“You look after her, I have to piss.” August told Henry, slipping free of you and eased away, wanting to make sure you didn't fall without his support, before stepping out of the shower to use the toilet.
“Are you all right?” Henry asked, helping you sit down on a built-in, shower bench.
“I'm fine.” You answered, resting back against the wall. “Just didn't expect all of--” You motioned around sluggishly. “This—when I got your mystery invite to the party.”
Henry smirked, grabbing a bath sponge and a bar of vanilla, sandalwood and cardamom soap, from a recess in the shower wall. “That's a fair point.” He nodded, soaping up the sponge and grabbing one of your arms. “In all honesty, I didn't intend this to happen either.” He admitted to you, gently lathering up your skin.
“Well, I did want to be with you. I just didn't expect August to actually join us.”
“The devil made me do it!” August chimed in, coming back into the shower and started to wash. “But I told you, I intended to, if you wooed her.”
“Wooed me!” You huffed, rolling your eyes. “So, the two of you talked about this?”
“Henry needed some prodding in getting the courage to send you the invite.” August informed you, smirking at Henry, who blushed and looked at neither of you. “But we're both quite happy you said yes.”
“That's true.” Henry nodded, moving the sponge across your shoulders, massaging them as he did. “I hope we didn't push you or anything.” He said, biting his lip as he looked you over.
You let out an amused laugh, tipping your head back to look up at the two men, who regarded you. “It's a bit late to be asking that, isn't it?” You inquired, shaking your head, before relaxing and growing serious. “But no, you guys didn't do anything I didn't want or consent to. Even though I was surprised by August sneaking into the room, like some sort of spy.”
Henry and August looked at each other, an expression of acknowledgment between them for a quick moment, before it passed, and they looked away.
“Suppose we should get back to the party.” You said, as Henry finished helping you wash.
“No.” August shook his head and rinsed the shampoo out of his hair. “The party ended a short while ago. The guests that are staying over, are in their rooms and those that weren't, have long been ushered off the property.” He informed you, causally.
“Just us, darling.” Henry winked, moving into August's spot to shower himself, carefully removing his devil horns. “Do you want to stay here with us, or would you rather I call Marco to take you back home?” He asked, cocking a closed eyed brow at you.
You weighed the options, watching Henry wash, water cascading around and along every groove and line of his muscular body, activating a tingle deep in your exhausted and sore body. “No need to bother him so late.” You finally answered, eyes shifting to August, who was grabbing towels.
Showered and dried off, You, Henry and August filed back into the bedroom. August called Davison up with a phone in the sitting room, having him bring up a few bottles of water for you all, which you were thankful for, since you were parched. Quenched, you climbed into bed, burrowing down under the sheets in the middle, while Henry and August got in on either side of you. Henry looped an arm around your waist, snuggling you against his chest and August lounged close to you, on his back, allowing you to reach out and lay your hand on his chest.
“Good night, my love.” Henry whispered, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.
“Sleep well, Sugar.” August cooed, patting your hand gently, and kissed your knuckles.
“Good night.” You hummed, letting your fatigue take a hold of you. “Happy...Hallo-ween.” You mumbled, dropping off, happily cocooned between them.
#henry cavill#henrycavill#viking-raider fics#fluff#The Devil Made Me Do It#The Devil Made Me Do It *fic*#Halloween Fic#Kinktober Fic#Kinktober#smut#Harley Quinn Costume#Lucifer Morningstar Costume#Purge Costume#Halloween Party#Fluff#Angst#Alcohol Use#Teasing#Flirting#Henry Cavill x Reader#Henry Cavill x You#henry cavill x y/n#henry cavill x female reader#Henry Cavill x All Types of Readers#Henry Cavill/You#Henry Cavill/Reader#Henry Cavill/Female Reader#Henry Cavill x Fem!Reader#Henry Cavill/Fem!Reader#No body specific body types
250 notes
·
View notes
Text
From thesis featuring my characters Max & Brandy! (Completed April 2023)
Max finds herself hiding in the club bathroom, the prospects of her love life spiraling down the drain...
I have a lot of mixed feelings about how this turned out. There are major things I would change or rework if I did it all over again but looking back on everything I am proud of finishing. My hope is to continue fleshing out the story and characters more after this!
Would not have been able to do it without the creative input and assistance of @fabba-banna ! So, huge shoutout to them and many thanks
227 notes
·
View notes
Text
Everything Good
CW: Self-hatred, victim-blaming, referenced past noncon, Kauri does so love to get drunk when he’s sad doesn’t he, some big old angst
Follows directly after Antoni and Kauri’s fight here, happens before/concurrently with Who You Are Looking For
-
“I told Jameson in confidence,” Antoni is saying, the words finding their way through the white noise slowly overtaking Kauri’s mind. His hard jaw and hard eyes and hard voice all combine to give away what he’s really saying, underneath the words. I didn’t trust you enough to tell you. Kauri opens his mouth with some retort but it falls apart, nothing comes out but air. Antoni speaks over the silence. “I did not tell you, or Jasha, and that was my choice not to tell.” Antoni’s voice is hard as granite, and Kauri can’t breathe as he feels the inhuman stone shove itself down his throat. Unfeeling. Uncaring. “I am sorry it hurt you that you did not know.”
No, you’re not.
Everyone says they’re sorry, no one ever means it.
It always happens again-
“Do not ask me again.”
Kauri isn’t sure if he even remembers how to blink. His heart pounds in his chest, so loud that it beats inside his ears, and he can’t say anything. He realizes with start that he is terrified of Antoni’s anger, that he understands that Antoni is the most dangerous person living in this house and Kauri has said and done all the wrong things for the last time. He manages a thin, stammered, “Ant-”
“I am ashamed of what was done to me,” Antoni snaps, a look on his face like a sneer. Loathing. Kauri is shit on his shoe, needing scraped off or dissolved with bleach. They’re supposed to be partners, but then again, when has Kauri been loved without pain?
Jake loves you.
The thought doesn’t land. None of them do, not with that look on Antoni’s face.
Antoni turns away from him, and it’s like slamming a door in his face. Like when Derrick would grab him by the arm and shake him for being so fucking stupid, why the fuck did you do that and Kauri never had a good reason. He doesn’t have a good reason now.
Antoni could hurt him for this. Antoni and Jake and Chris are never, ever supposed to hurt him. They’re the ones he can trust not to.
Antoni, a man carved of marble and painted in shades of furious anger, has a stare that burns holes through Kauri’s thin armor. “Is that not enough? Must you make it worse?”
Kauri swallows the rocks in his throat and lets them come to rest somewhere in his chest, behind his heart, a weight of guilt he can’t carry alone, but alone is what he is right now. Antoni looks at him like he’s been wounded by Kauri knowing this, when Kauri should be the first person people know will understand. Of course he understands. It’s the one thing he’s a goddamn expert in.
“... I-... I didn’t mean-” His voice catches in his throat, thin and reedy, and Kauri winces and tries again. He takes a step back. Antoni doesn’t notice him putting space between them. Even Kauri is barely aware of it, the instinctive self-protection. Please don’t hurt me for making you angry. “You don’t have to be ashamed of-”
“Yes, I do!” Antoni smacks his hand down on the countertop and Kauri flinches, but Antoni wasn’t looking at him. He doesn’t see it. Kauri takes another step back. “It was shameful!”
Blood rushes to Kauri’s face, a sudden burst of heat. His fingers, though, are freezing. His lungs feel cold. Granite has become a glacier, a weight of ice he can’t possibly resist or dig his way out of. His mind scrapes against ice walls as thick as canyons are deep. “Don’t say that.”
His voice is a whisper.
Antoni turns to look at him and it’s an expression Owen has shown him so many times Kauri could draw it with his eyes closed even now. A look that Kauri can hear, the words spit at him with Owen’s righteous anger, his judgement, the way he could hate Kauri and love him all at once. You stupid slut.
If Antoni hates him for it, too, then what was the point of ever leaving?
“... I, I don’t have to be ashamed-” His voice is a thin whimper, and Antoni smacks the countertop again. This time Kauri stumbles back against the wall, his eyes locked on Antoni’s hand where it lays, fingers splayed, on the laminate made to look like stone. Just a thin layer of imaginary strength over wood so easily broken.
“Stop it!” Antoni stops. Takes in a breath. “Stop. This is not about you. Not everything on earth is about you. This conversation ends now.”
Kauri has never, ever dreamed that Antoni could look at him like this. Disgusted with him. Loathing him. God, he must hate Kauri for what he’s done, for what he is, if he can hate himself for having to live with it. Hating himself because he ever, for even a second, had to have the same life Kauri did. He swallows, thinking he can apologize, he can be good, he can talk his way out of this. If he can just be sorry enough, they can make this go away, like it never happened. “Antoni-”
“I said it ends.”
Antoni walks away.
Kauri’s mouth is still open, but all he sees is Antoni’s back as he disappears down the hall. The room isn’t empty, though. It’s full of the weight of Kauri standing, once again, alone. This time he isn’t fleeing Owen’s rage and the hands around his neck, the realization that he can’t survive it if it keeps getting worse.
Instead, he’s standing here alone because Antoni doesn’t want him.
“Makes sense,” He whispers to himself. Guilt rages, tears him apart from the inside. He’s just skin stretched over self-loathing. Kauri takes a deep breath, steadying himself, closing his eyes. Then he pulls his phone from his pocket and dials a number he meant to block a long time ago, but never could quite bring himself to. Just in case.
He’s honestly surprised when Westin answers. “Kauri! Long time no fuck around! How are you?”
“Shit. It’s all shit.” Kauri’s voice still won’t rise above a hoarse whisper.
“Oh, damn. What’s wrong? I thought you were all married and settled and shit now.”
“I-... I am-” I think I am, he says, but then tries to shove that thought away. Even if Antoni doesn’t want him, even if he’s ruined everything by not knowing how or when to shut his fucking mouth, Jake will still love him.
Won’t he?
God. He can’t make Jake choose between them. Antoni’s objectively the better choice, anyway. He’s better with the rescues, he’s a good cook, he never makes demands on anyone for anything at all. There’s no choice to be made, Antoni is always going to be the one who wins out. If Kauri gets picked it’d be out of pity.
Wouldn’t it?
“Then what’s up?”
“Uh, my. My, um-... Look, tonight sucks. You got anything?”
“Kauri. Gorgeous. Light of my… fucked-up early twenties. I always have something. You want to come over?”
Westin’s nice. He has an apartment he pays for in cash because you don’t pay taxes on the kind of money he makes, the way he makes it. Kauri hesitates, because he shouldn’t. He hasn’t, not in years. He had thought he’d grown out of running for something to wipe out his mind when it’s overwhelmed by fear.
But he’s never been afraid like this.
“... Uh-”
Chris peeks into the kitchen. His wide green eyes meet Kauri’s, below the shock of lavender hair with copper roots starting to show. He’s wearing a gray hoodie that drowns him and black pants with holes at the knees that Kauri honestly can’t tell if they’re jeans or leggings. Or both. He realizes Chris has shoes on. “Kauri? Is, is, is everything-”
Kauri grabs his arm, not so much thinking as just acting on impulse, the way he always does. “Come on. We’re going out.”
“Wh-what? We are?”
“Yeah.” Kauri puts the phone back to his ear. “Westin? You still there?”
“Yeah, eavesdropping shamelessly. You coming over?”
“Nah. Can I meet you outside of the Dolph? You know the place?”
“Oh, yeah. Definitely. I love that place. You slept with the bartender, didn’t you?”
“That was like a decade ago, Wes. He’s probably not the bartender anymore.” Kauri heads down the steps, Chris’s arm still in his hand, the younger man stumbling after him confused and uncertain, but willing to go wherever Kauri takes him. Chris, at least, won’t ever look at him the way Antoni did. He isn’t fucking physically capable of it. No matter what Kauri says, or does, or thinks, or feels.
“I mean, I know, but just-”
“I did. I think his name was Jerome. Or Jared?”
“Jerome. Definitely Jerome. Jesus, that guy was stacked like a fucking…” Westin trails off, lost in thoughts. Or memories. “I don’t know. He definitely didn’t wear the right size t-shirt though.”
“You get bigger tips that way.”
Kauri half-shoves Chris into the car and gets himself into the driver’s seat. Jake’s metal music blares at first, but Kauri smacks at the volume button until the sound is silenced. “We’ll be there in half an hour. Can you bring me something chill?”
“Some, something chill?” Chris’s eyes widen, then he looks… unaccountably sad. “Kauri-”
“It’s fine,” Kauri says, waving a hand in Chris’s face without looking at him. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Yeah, I can do that.” Westin’s voice goes soft. “You going to be up for some real fun tonight?”
“God, no.” Kauri still loves the way the word ‘no’ sounds in his own voice. He went so long without remembering how to say it and not fall apart. “Had a shit night. Just… half an hour, the Dolph, something good.”
“Got it. Hey, I always wondered… is the Dolph named about dolphins, or Dolph Lundgren?”
“... yes.” Kauri hangs up before Westin can say anything else, hitting the gas hard enough that the car jerks forwards and Chris grabs, a little panicked, at his seatbelt. “Whoops, sorry. Haven’t driven in a while.”
“It’s, um. It’s fine.” Chris’s phone vibrates and he checks it, wincing as if what he sees hurts him. “Uh, Jake, um, Jake wants to, to to to know, um, what, what happened, uh-”
“Tell him we’re going out.” Kauri takes a left turn too sharply, throwing Chris against the door. It occurs to him he probably shouldn’t drive when he feels like this, but fuck it, he doesn’t care anymore. Why not? He can drive the way he feels, and maybe it’ll help unstick the ice in his chest. “To dinner. To talk.”
Chris swallows. “... are, are we going out to, to, to dinner?”
“Well, the Dolph is kind of a dive-y bar and serves some pretty fucking awesome fried food, plus a real shitty take on a garden salad, so… sure. I’m buying.”
“And… and, and and and, we, um, will we… talk? About-... about what, what happened-”
“Once I am high off my ass and don’t care anymore,” Kauri says, taking another turn. He can see the blue sign marking that the interstate is coming up, now. Merge there, drive a few miles, get right back off. Head into an unassuming up-and-coming neighborhood where cute little boutiques vie with murals spray-painted on walls twenty years ago and left to fade with time and weather. Find the bright blue door with a light over the top. Go inside. Order drinks, swallow pills, and breathe.
He’s done it a thousand times before.
He can do it again.
It always helps. Or at least, it always holds off the pain long enough for Kauri to find a way to run from it.
“Kauri, please, how, how, how how how can I get home, if, um, if you get… high, again, you, you you you haven’t done that in a while, are-... can, can we talk before, um-”
Kauri glances sideways, and feels a brand new wash of self-loathing when he sees that Chris looks worried, even a little scared. Of him.
He merges too hard and nearly sideswipes a semi. The guy blares his horn and Kauri flips him off and speeds past, changing lanes. It’s begging for something to go horribly wrong, flirting with an accident or injury or death. But fuck it, what does it matter?
“I think Antoni stopped loving me tonight,” Kauri says, voice flat. He’s proud of the way it doesn’t shake. “I think I deserve to get high again tonight. You get me home safe. Everyone goddamn wins, right?”
Chris clutches his phone like it could save his life. “Antoni could-... could never st, stop-”
“Yeah, maybe not with other people. But I have that very special talent, Chris, I can make anybody fall out of love with me just by being myself. Just by being who I am. Just by being… being what I was. What we were. Right? We don’t change. Once a stupid selfish slut, always a stupid selfish slut, right?”
He realizes he’s accidentally included Chris in that estimation a moment too late, when he glances to the side and sees the look of profound hurt on his sort-of little brother’s face.
Great work, Kaur-Bore, you did it again.
“Oh, shit, Chris. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean-”
“It’s, it’s okay,” Chris whispers. He’s rocking forward and back, his fingers scratching at his jeans, running along the seams. “It’s okay. I, I, I think it sometimes, too. Once, um, once a, once a-”
“No. Not you, Chris. Never you.” Kauri holds a hand out, and Chris takes it, even though he can’t stop rocking, keeps his other hand moving. “That was a shitty thing to say, and I shouldn’t have said it. What if I promise I’ll eat something before I start drinking, and I won’t have more than three drinks and one of whatever Westin brings? How’s that sound?”
Chris squeezes his hand. Someone honks - not even at him - but it reminds Kauri that his exit is right there and he has to take a hard swerve not to miss it. Chris lets go to put his hands in his hair and lean over, eyes closing tightly, breathing in gasps. “Kauri!”
“It’s fine, it’s okay.” Kauri soothes, both hands back on the wheel, hitting the brakes so they come to a sudden jerking stop at the light, waiting for it to turn green. “See? Look? I can’t even go very fast on this road. We’re almost there, I swear.”
“Okay.” Chris rocks forwards and back, forwards and back. His hands slip under his hoodie, and Kauri knows without having to see that he’s tapping, soothing himself with sensation that settles his fraying nerves, just like always. “Okay, okay, okay.”
“Okay.” Kauri nods, and as he forces himself to ease down the road instead of flying, he rubs at Chris’s back with one hand. “I’m sorry. I’m scaring you, aren’t I? I don’t-... I don’t handle this shit well, but I bounce back, I promise.” He lets out a bitter brittle laugh, startling himself a little. He hasn’t laughed like that in years. “Enough people tell you you’re a piece of shit and make it clear they can’t love you after, you get real good at letting it roll off your back.”
Chris hesitates. Kauri can see that he’s thinking. The quiet draws out between them as Kauri spots the telltale blue door and pulls into the parking lot, easing around the grass growing through the asphalt cracks, stubborn weeds that refuse to be destroyed by the conditions they have to grow in.
“... did he, he, he say that?” Chris asks, softly. The bass from the music is echoing out of the bar, and Kauri closes his eyes, letting his forehead rest against the steering wheel. “Kauri? Did, did, did Antoni say that, uh that he he he doesn’t… love you? Anymore?”
Kauri keeps his eyes closed.
“He didn’t have to,” Kauri whispers. It’s funny. He’d thought his voice would shake more, saying it, but he finds that all his fear is draining away. Falling down into the white light that lives so far back inside his mind, but always finds its way back out. “I know the way he looked at me. I’ve seen that look so many fucking times. And if Antoni can’t love me, who can?”
“I can.” Chris whispers it back, and Kauri turns his head without lifting it, watching Chris looking back at him, half-smiling. “Jake can.”
“... nah. Even he’s gotta give up the ghost eventually, right?”
Chris looks too solemn, too serious. It shatters Kauri’s heart. “You, you, you aren’t a ghost.”
Kauri could laugh. He could laugh until he ran out of air and blacked out right here, laugh until all the pain is hidden deeply enough that no one remembers he ever felt it but him. “Aren’t I? I’m not handling the love affairs of the guy who used to own my body super well, am I? Just keep fuckin’ it up. Jesus Christ. I’m such a piece of shit.”
Oh, good. The tears are back.
His voice gets thick and wet with them, and he has to hitch in breaths to say anything around a closing throat.
“I’m such shit. Antoni didn’t want me to fucking know because he knows I’ll just make it about me, and I did! I made it all about me and my problems and my bullshit. He lied to me because he knew I can’t take knowing that my life is something other people would rather die than admit to having lived, so I make it about me and I’m awful and I don’t even goddamn blame him for hating me now. I’m a piece of shit and a bad partner, and Saint Jake can’t keep swooping in to save me. Eventually the goddamn martyr’s going to realize he doesn’t have to die for my stupid fucking sins, and then he’ll tell me to get my ass out of the house and give him his ring back so he can give it to somebody else better than me."
Chris is silent. Doesn’t matter.
It isn’t really him Kauri’s talking to anymore.
“I ruin it. It's like my biggest fucking talent! I ruin everything good. I get a good thing and I fuck it up, I always have. All the way back to the man who I used to be, I bet he sucked at relationships, too. Bet he did. That’s why I’m like this now, it was already there, and my shitty fucking life has only made me worse. I thought I was getting better. Therapy, and not drinking so much… but I never got any better. Jesus. Who’s going to want me, huh? Who’s going to want a washed up whore who can’t keep a relationship together with the two most patient men on the entire fucking planet? Why can’t I stop myself from doing things I know are just going to make it worse? Why can’t I ever stop it before I fuck it all up again?”
There’s a pause.
"Why can't I ever remember I don't want to until I've already done it and it's too late to stop?"
Chris’s hand is warm against his back, suddenly, rubbing up and down. Offering him the same comfort he had given a minute ago, and Kauri shudders, forcing back a sob - or a scream - trying to find its way out.
“I love you,” Chris whispers. “As, as, as your brother. Your, um, your friend. I, I I I love you, and you, I, I mean it.”
“Love you too.” Kauri’s voice is wry, so thin it’s a single human hair stretched nearly to snapping. “I’m sorry I dragged you out with me, Chris. You probably had other plans, huh?”
“Not, not, not important ones.” His voice is a shrug. “I, I, I know how you, you, you feel.”
Kauri huffs. Is it laughter? He can’t even tell. “Do you?”
“Yeah.” Chris’s voice is low and sincere. “I, I, I think that a, um, a lot. That, that, that I’m only going to to to to… mess it up. That, that, that I always… I always do. Because I, I, I can’t-... have, um. With them. And I can’t… sometimes I get so, so scared of, of, of… of-...” He trails off. “Of it all. Of me. Come, come on, Kauri.”
Kauri looks at him, and Chris offers him a soft, sweet smile, leaning close. He smells like his shampoo, and laundry soap, and beneath all of that, the simple specific human Chris smell. “What?”
“Let’s, let’s, let’s go inside.” Chris leans over, impulsive and quick. Kauri feels his lips against his hair, warmth making its way down through the wild black curls, before he pulls back again. “Jake texted and, and, and said he’ll talk to, to, to to to Antoni. We, we, we can stay out for a, um, a while. You always, uh, always feel better… dancing.”
Well… he isn’t wrong.
“I guess you know me pretty well,” Kauri says, shifting back, rubbing at his eyes to get the last of the tears out, glancing at himself in the rearview mirror. In the dark, his eyes being reddened won’t be so obvious. He tries on his best, most glittering aren’t I the most gorgeous fucking thing and so humble too smile. Still looks good.
He always looks his best when he’s ready to shatter, after all.
Nobody looks as good getting torn apart as you do, Kaur-Bore.
“Okay.” He takes a deep breath. Banishes Owen’s voice from his mind. “Okay. Let’s do this.” He steps out of the car, and Chris gets out on the other side. They pause, for a second, looking at the blue door. The light above it. An unobtrusive rainbow sticker pressed against the brick beside it.
“Three, um, three drinks,” Chris reminds him, leaning sideways to bump his shoulder into Kauri’s. “And one, um, pill or… snort? Or whatever?”
“I don’t snort,” Kauri says wryly. “Anymore.”
“You, you, you weren’t doing pills either, though?”
“... Fair point. You win. Fine. One pill or snort or whatever. Three drinks. That is all. And I’ll eat some dinner first so it doesn’t hit me so hard.”
“Then, then, then we’ll… figure it out. Yeah?” His head leans on Kauri’s shoulder, lavender hair halfway up his nose when he turns and has to sneeze and then they both laugh. For a second Kauri thinks maybe he doesn’t need the pill, anyway.
But it’d be rude, if Westin drives all the way out here…
“... Yeah,” Kauri says, softly. “Yeah, we’ll figure it out.”
The blue door opens, and Kauri winces when he hears what’s playing inside. Tell all the English boys you meet, about the American boy back in the States - the American boy you used to date, who would do anything you say…
“Shit. Forgot that it’s Wednesday.”
“Um. Why?”
“Wednesday is a slow night. They let the guy who manages the bar control the music, and he’s… well. He plays shit like this.”
If you say you ever missed me then don’t say you never lied-
I’m without you-
“It’s, it’s, it’s not bad, though?” Chris follows him as Kauri heads for the door. Inside, there’s not exactly a crush of bodies, but there’s a good few dozen men of varying ages, trending older than they do on Fridays and Saturdays. Chris is one of the youngest guys here.
“Oh, it’s not that bad now,” Kauri says, winding his way towards the bar, Chris’s hand in his. A few people still remember Kauri and waves or call out, and he waves back. Lots of Kauri! Haven’t seen you! How’ve you been! You good, man? Oh hey, you’re here! He doesn’t stop to flirt. “Just wait, though. Just wait until he gets super drunk later and starts playing Taking Back Sunday.”
“Starts, um, starts playing… is, is, is that… church music?”
“Oh my God. I love you so much, you sweet tiny baby child.” Kauri throws his head back with real, genuine, open laughter for the first time all night. He orders something candy-colored for himself, plus a burger and fries. Chris gets a vodka and soda and cheese fries.
Chris looks baffled, but Kauri can’t stop laughing, and when he pulls Chris close for a hug, the younger man never hesitates.
Kauri holds him tight, and thinks to himself that even if Antoni never wants to look at him again, he can survive the loss. This time, there’s someone who will hold him while he figures out what to do next. Someone who will stand next to him and listen as the music changes. The crowd, such as it is, takes it as a sign to go order more drinks. Just a few couples stay dancing.
Oh, you're silent but strong
Yeah, I'm playing that card
And you're noticing nothing again
Now I'm lying on the table with everything you said
Keep that in mind, the way that it felt
When the most I could do was to just blame myself
Kauri laughs again. He can’t stop, until his laughter is nearly a sob itself. His cheeks are wet, when did that happen? His knees nearly give out with the hilarity and the hurt swelling inside of him. “Oh my God. It’s goddamn Taking Back Sunday. Dan’s drunk and sad early tonight. Join the fucking club, I guess."
Well, I know you know everything
I know you didn't mean it
I know you didn't mean it
Kauri hums along for a while. "Wow, this music is way better when you fucking hate yourself.”
“What?”
Now I'm lying on the table with everything you said
It will all catch up eventually
Kauri shakes his head. “Never mind. Just… don’t let go. Don’t let go, Chris, please.”
Well, it caught up and honestly
The weight of my decisions were impossible to hold
But they were never yours
“I won’t.”
They were never yours
They rock to no beat in particular and nobody’s hands wander, no one whispers filthy things in anyone else’s ear. He doesn’t even want the drink that bad when it comes.
He will, in a minute.
But right now, it can sit on the bar sweating condensation while they move, side to side.
Stop everything
Start it all over
Remember more than you'd like to forget
Kauri is crying, but his head is buried against Chris’s neck, and Chris only tightens his arms. Kauri is drowning, his head dips below the water.
Chris’s arms are strong, though.
When Kauri gasps for air, he finds it.
If Antoni can’t forgive him, he’ll keep going. Kauri always keeps going. He’s always going to be fine, in the end, because he’s never had a choice. And if Jake hates him too and he has to be fine alone, well, he can do that.
Although Chris makes him think maybe he won’t have to.
Drop everything
Start it all over...
----
As always, @autophagay, this is for you
@finder-of-rings @endless-whump @arlin-always-writing @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @whumpyourdamnpears @cubeswhump @burtlederp @whump-tr0pes @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @outofangband @hackles-up @grizzlie70 @mylifeisonthebookshelf @keeper-of-all-the-random-things
#whump#erase to control#antoni sings lullablies#chris the strawberry blond romantic#angst#hurt/comfort#kind of#emotional hurt anyway#abuse survivor#noncon survivor#recovering whumpee#trauma recovery tw#referenced noncon#self-loathing#victim-blaming#alcohol use#bad emo music#gets its own tw#actually it's AMAZING emo music tyvm#have I also cry-danced to taking back sunday yes yes I have#derogatory language#whump oc#kauri is always good for some angst on a sunday morning
68 notes
·
View notes
Text
Day 19: “Please don’t.”
Scar reveal, knife wound [minor], minor wound treatment, alcohol use, blood, implied past violence, bar fight mention
[Directly follows Barfight]
Drifting down from the adrenaline high, brushing off the praise and thanks of the other bar patrons…it was nostalgic. Warm. Familiar.
(He had done this before, during the Before.)
“I think you got us free drinks for the rest of the night East.” Tierney laughed, hand clapping East’s back. Alister smiled at him, gratitude in his eyes.
“Next time save some ass kicking for the rest of us, eh?“
East rolled his eyes, feeling Tierney’s hand slide away from his back.
“Next time I’m sure there’ll be more than one prick so you’ll have your pick - ”
“East you’re bleeding.” Tierney’s whisper was urgent, even if the smear of blood on his palm was relatively unconcerning. East knew the fucker’s knife had cut his jacket, he hadn’t felt it break the skin.
“I didn’t notice - probably just a scratch.”
“We should clean it up though.” Alister had him fixed with a concerned expression. “I don’t think Nate will take kindly to knowing we got into a bar fight. Best to hide the evidence best we can.”
“I’m fine, really - ” There was no arguing with both housemates. East swallowed back the rest of his drink and sighed. “Fine. It probably doesn’t even need stitches.”
The three made their way to the bar restroom, rowdy patrons slapping East’s arm and shouting thanks and congratulations to him as he passed. The repeated, unexpected, unwanted contact was making him sick. Safe behind the closed bathroom door, the reality of what he had agreed to sunk in. He glanced at his reflection in the dirty mirror, skin pale and clammy. East turned suddenly and grabbed Tierney and Alister by the shoulder.
“Don’t ask. Please don’t.” He hoped his reaching out, his purposeful eye contact drove home how serious he was. He hadn’t thought about his back - what was there - for months now.
And here he was letting another man’s hands touch his bared scars and bloodied skin.
(Jackson would be proud.)
(Smith would be jealous.)
Tierney stared up at him with wide shining eyes, glancing to Alister who nodded grimly, brow furrowed in cautious concern.
“We won’t say a word. And we’ll be quick - I know you don’t like touch.”
“Unless you’re knocking another guy’s lights out.” Tierney muttered with a weak chuckle, but East let a smile soften his own face to show that he appreciated the joke. He took a deep breath, removing his hands from their shoulders and nodded to Tierney.
“Get me some vodka. Let’s get this over with.” He turned back to the mirror, shrugging off his jacket - the rip in the back was almost invisible, and any blood blended too well with the dark material to see. He slowly unbuttoned his undershirt, hands growing shaky.
(He took comfort in the fact that the blood on his knuckles wasn’t his own.)
East glanced up at the mirror, the scars on his chest so small and faded with age he could hardly outline the patch of skin that had been replaced. He looked to Alister’s face, eyes gentle and encouraging. Safe.
He took a slow inhale as he pulled his shirt back off his shoulders, and exhaled as he shirked the sleeves from his arms. He grimaced down at the pale green plaid patterned shirt - blood stained a palm sized blotch just below the back of the collar. East didn’t look up to see Alister’s reaction. He didn’t need to.
His hearing caught the stutter of breath, the almost imperceptible shift in breathing before someone spoke. And Tierney’s pattering footsteps, before the door opened and closed.
“I got the - ” He cut himself off, swallowing his words. East took another measured breath, running the tap and holding his bloodstained shirt under the cold water.
“Could use that drink, Tierney.” He managed to mutter, listening to the footsteps approach and seeing the shimmering shot glass out of the corner of his eye.
“You good?”
“Yes. Hurry up.“ He didn’t mean to snap, to take the shot glass from Tierney so violently and swig it back to feel the liquor burn down his throat. A half decent distraction from the hands touching his back.
“It’s not too deep - you, you’re right it probably won’t need stitches.” Tierney was making a point of not looking at East’s back while Alister worked, practically jittering with nervous energy. Alister hummed to confirm Tierney’s observation.
“Just gonna clean it up and get a bandage over it. Don’t want Nate worrying where this blood came from.”
East focused on the gradually fading bloodstain on the shirt in his hands, red washed pink by the icy water. He would have to volunteer for wash duty this weekend - the last thing he needed was getting in trouble with Nate for getting into a bar fight, even if he didn’t start it. He turned off the tap, wringing blood tinged water from his shirt and straightening up as Alister finished.
(The fingers weren’t poking, weren’t prodding - so much like the featherlight touch of Jackson ghosting over those jagged letters when they bled fresh and raw.)
“All set?” He asked, rolling his shoulders to feel the itchy plastic and adhesive of a fresh bandage just below his neck.
“Yup. You really gonna wear a wet shirt for the walk home?”
East struggled back into his button down, the damp fabric fighting him. He responded to Tierney’s question with a shrug and a nod.
“It’s pissing down anyway out there. We’ll all be soaked to the bone before we get home.”
[Concurrent to The Mademoiselle]
(Part of my Freelancers: Changing Tides series)
#whump#scar reveal#knife wound#minor wound treatment#alcohol use#implied past violence#bar fight#freelancers#awoo. <- i am the most fulfilled I've ever been in life but i am also the busiest and most socially burnt out i've ever been in life#have some more no context wolf-east recovery#febuwhump#febuwhump2024#febuwhumpday19
12 notes
·
View notes
Text
Realized as much as I love this idea, I'm not actually planning to write anything for it, so I'm sharing in case someone else wants it lol.
cw: alcohol use (two drunk idiots decide to get even more drunk is a large plot point)
Glitra modern soulmates AU - To Forget Your Face
Glitra soulmates where you don’t know who your soulmate is until you touch them and then you get the rainbow marks.
They are both drunk at a bar, get into an argument, and get tossed out for being disorderly. Glimmer tries to be the bigger person and leave (in the most petty way possible), but Catra is pissed and grabs her shoulder to whirl her around and keep fighting. Glimmer, also pissed but now excited for a reason to fight, throws a wild punch landing directly into her boob.
They are both swaying under the shitty street lights as they feel the tingle/burn of their marks, and it makes it through the alcohol haze. Both of them take one more look at each other and agree to forget via more alcohol because that's a choice people don't regret for sure. They get turned away from two bars for being too drunk to serve, so they hit up a liquor store instead and end up drinking at a park. They actually kinda like one another now that they aren’t trying to kill each other and agree to trade information.
But they’re, like, super fucking drunk.
So Glimmer less spells her name and more scribbles random designs on the inside of Catra’s arm and Catra puts down her old phone that’s been deactivated for years just under Glimmer's collarbone to try and be flirty.
They wake up the next morning and realize they met their soulmate and have zero memory of it. Catra is trying to decipher the fucking runic code her soulmate left (a name, a place, a time? wtf) and Glimmer is like, “That motherfucker gave me a fake number!? COME ON!”
Eventually they meet back up and after almost going at it again for the perceived bullshit, talk and agree to go on a date.
#glimmer#catra#she ra#spop#fic idea I'm not using free to a loving home#alcohol use#glitra#soulmates au#technically doesn't have to be modern but it makes sense to me lol#a more true to canon but no horde version could be fascinating
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
Teen punk Michael is 100% the kid who would go to an ugly Christmas sweater party with a mirror taped to his chest
Gregory would do the same thing and then would argue about who did it first/who wore it better
Dave heard 'ugly' and showed up in the same unwashed hoodie he's been wearing for two weeks
Crying Child refused to wear an ugly sweater bc he's afraid of being made fun of. He is also very scared of Dave
Elizabeth is wearing something overly bright and sparkly (with pink pom poms or something)
Withered Bonnie is wearing something with a pun on the front
Mangle is wearing a ball of yarn
Glamrock Freddy is wearing a sweater with a teddy bear on it, but the kind that has dad energy
The Chicka variants are all wearing sweaters with images of deserts. It's a bonding experience for them : )
Springtrap shows up as is, because, like Dave he heard 'ugly' decided he was already ugly enough. He and Dave then stare at each other wondering how they can both be there at the same time
Nobody else knows Springtrap and Dave are the same person, so they are all quite confused
William tries to get very drunk very quickly to avoid the awkwardness of this situation (and he probably doesn't want to be there but lets the alcohol make him get silly so he won't have to pretend he's having a good time)
Dave tries to follow suit, but passes out bc his tolerance is waaay lower then it used to be
#tbh i just came up with the first three and let my brain keep going#what if scenario#fnaf#michael afton#fnaf gregory#dave miller#silver eyes dave miller#crying child#elizabeth afton#withered bonnie#mangle#springtrap#william afton#alcohol use#fnaf headcanons#christmas headcanons
90 notes
·
View notes
Text
Semaglutide can be used to treat alcohol use disorder.
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
man the fireworks are beatifuol. I love new yeaters. take a shot fro taht
i think im 8 in.
my hes d hurts
32 notes
·
View notes
Link
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: VALORANT (Video Game)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Fade/Neon (VALORANT), Fadeshock - Relationship
Characters: Fade (VALORANT), Neon (VALORANT), Jett (VALORANT), Yoru (VALORANT), Phoenix (VALORANT)
Additional Tags: Fadeshock, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, Drunken Flirting, Alcohol, Embarrassment, Vomiting, Fluff, this is very silly
Summary:
(a.k.a. the drunk confessions fic)
Neon is a bit of a disaster drunk. She’s emotional, impulsive, and tends to say exactly what’s on her mind without much regard for the consequences. This is fine when she has a responsible friend to supervise her, but when her friends are all just as drunk as she is, there’s nobody to stop her from making a mistake.
On her own and bolstered by the confidence alcohol gives her, Neon hammers on Fade’s door and speaks her mind, but she’s far more honest than she ever signed up for.
(Very mild) crackfic.
7 notes
·
View notes
Note
"besides a spare lionblaze" LMAAOOOO poor boy just being used for his strength
Why even HAVE a clanmate with a superpower if you aren't gonna use him to move furniture? Give him a stem of fermented rowanberries and he'll help you move that tree right out of camp.
24 notes
·
View notes
Text
Night Out
Alcohol use, anxiety, paranoia, anticipated violence, referenced smoking, referenced neonazi
[Concurrent to The Agent]
“It’s just gonna be a hell of a party at the house and I thought you might wanna get out of the house for a bit - ”
“C’mon, East. It’s The Black Hound - owner’s German.”
“Is that supposed to make a difference?” East huffed, standing a few paces away from the bus stop. Tierney and Alister were finishing their last cigarette of the day, and while he had learned to tolerate the smell to an extent, he didn’t want to push his limits.
“Listen, just the three of us. It’s a quiet place. A couple of drinks, mingle with some regulars - I think you’ll like it.”
—
East had to admit, the quaint and sleepy tavern was a far cry from the house party they had nearly been subject to. Nathan could wax poetic about community and morale, but he eventually relented. (Tierney would claim complete responsibility by virtue of being the best at pouting.)
Ice’s family, visiting for his last night and to help him move to his own apartment across town, were throwing quite the party. Lots of drinking, smoking, cards and shouting - and it took one soft spoken request from East to gain Nathan’s permission to leave for the night.
The Black Hound was, as promised, quiet. There were half a dozen patrons in the sleepy pub, and the three were free to sit at the bar counter. The barkeep - Tomas, his name tag read - apparently knew Alister.
“I heard you got out; looking good - probation’s been treating you well.” His accent was heavy and his voice low. Tomas appraised East and Tierney as they took seats beside Alister. “New friends?”
“Good ones. Gin and tonic, please.”
“First night back in my bar since you got out and you won’t even order a lager. I should ban you, permanently.” The older man laughter, playfully cuffing Alister over the counter. (East tensed, forcing himself to watch the ease in Alister’s smile, the fondness in Tomas’ eyes. There was no danger here.) “And what will you be having?”
He was addressing East, but Tierney piped up, offense exaggerated.
“Got any Guinness?” The barkeep raised a brow, looking between Alister and the Irishman. “I’m not a fuckin’ child - Christ, do you need an ID? Got it here - ”
“That baby-face of yours is a tragic thing indeed, O’Hare.”
“Oh, and you look fresh outta chemo grandpa - when’s your hair growing back - ” Tierney winced under Alister’s glare, but his scowl was still friendly. “Alright, alright - I’m sorry - as long as I get some fucking beer.”
“And you?” At first East was going to order the same as Tierney, but the name on a bottle behind the bar caught his eye. Something familiar, something nostalgic.
“Eisbock.” He could almost taste it. Tomas, for his part, looked elated.
“See? See, this one, he’s good. Someone you know is capable of having good taste.”
The praise from a stranger was as heady as the alcohol he served, the dark beer contrasting with Tierney’s pale lager and Alister’s liquor.
“Wait, wait, wait - first night out on the town, we ought to toast to it or something.” No one fought Tierney’s suggestion even though they were several sips into their glasses. Alister raised his, smiling between his friends.
“To good taste.”
“To good taste.” East and Tierney echoed in tandem as their glasses clinked.
Tomas served a few other patrons before drifting back to the bar, expression polite but inquiring as he refilled East’s drink.
“Didn’t catch your name, one with good taste.” He joked, returning a fresh glass of dark beer. “And if you don’t mind me asking, where’re you from? Not a native of Edinburgh I’m guessing.”
“It’s East. And you’re right, family’s from Dresden.” It was part of a larger narrative he was manufacturing given the sparse information Jackson had left him to work with. But East was nothing if not resourceful - he had been researching his options for a moment like this. “You?”
“Dresden? Now that brings back memories. I grew up in Riesa, a bit north of there.” Tomas huffed, voice softened as he shifted in his mother tongue. “What’re the chances?”
“Small world after all, I guess.” East had forgotten how easily German fit in his mouth. The words tasted like a home he had forgotten.
East and Tomas chatted a bit, Alister and Tierney intent on the football match on the tv in the corner of the room. Happy hour came and went and the bar filled up, quiet conversation filling the emptiness previously occupied by the television audio alone. Tomas busied himself serving other patrons, and East…
He tried to ignore it - he had been getting better at ignoring it, recently. The anxiety of being surrounded, of having no clear exit. The claustrophobia of other people wasn’t as suffocating as it once was, but there was still a sting, a prick of anxious paranoia.
(What if someone was watching?)
East hoped his occasional look around the bar seemed casual - looking to the door every time the bell above it rattled with every entry and exit, glances to tables and booths that got a little too loud. He followed Judy’s instructions; patience, reminding himself where he was, who he was with - he was safe.
(Then why did it feel like he was being hunted? Why was his heart beating so fast?)
“I gotta hit the head.” He needed to run cold water over his hands, ground himself for a few minutes.
“Same - where’s it at, Tommy?” Tierney’s tongue had loosened with the drink, his size leaving him as a bit of a lightweight compared to his companions. East didn’t mind the company as they made their way to the back of the tavern.
A few deep breaths and grounding exercises later, East was feeling human again. He hadn’t gone out on the town before (not since the Before) and was just a little overwhelmed. His paranoia was unwarranted, a symptom of overstimulation and probably a bit of fuzziness from the drink. He waited outside the restroom, leaving Tierney to wash his hands -
The bell at the door to the bar chimed, and East looked up. He didn’t like who he saw.
Physically, the man wasn’t a threat. He was tall, sure, but lanky and young. He probably wasn’t much older than Tierney.
The Irishman in question stumbled out of the bathroom behind East, bumping into his back with a soft apology. East was tense and quiet, watching the newcomer the way the Wolf had been trained.
There was an iron cross on the shoulder of his leather jacket, a patch of jagged lightning bolts at the breast pocket. The spikes and metal studs were decorative, but genuine. He wore heavy boots, laced in red. His hair was close shaved, too much so to tell his hair color, but his eyes were an icy hazel-grey.
More than his appearance, the reaction of the patrons as he entered the bar gave clues to his identity. Some glared from their tables, other ducked their heads and dropped their tones to continue speaking. The stranger paid them no mind - he looked clear across the pub to the bar and smiled. Tomas’ scowl was harsh, simmering with rage, and Alister seemed to shrink, curling in on himself with shame on his face.
East wasn’t satisfied with the conclusion of these facts: this man was a skinhead.
And Alister knew him.
[Directly before Barfight]
(Part of my Freelancers: Changing Tides series)
Taglist: @stargeode @sacredwrath @genuineformality
#whump#alcohol use#anxiety#paranoia#anticipated violence#smoking#neonazi mention#this ended up being one of those ‘it’s not quite 2 chapters worth of material but it’s too much for just one’ so. have this .5 chapter#or more accurately: there’s no good way of chopping up the barfight in the next installment to evenly distribute between this and the next#so I went with a more logical shorter cliffhanger ish method#if there’s typos it’s bc I am shaking like a chihuahua. bc of the Horrors.#<- I’m losing my mind I’m so stressed abt this multivariate stats presentation but also so chill like it’s fineeeeeeee
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Map of Edward Teach’s Soul 🐚
(post season 1 amnesiac fic)
#ofmd#our flag means death#ofmd fic#ofmd post season 1#edward teach#blackbeard#edward teach pov#amnesia#angst with a happy ending#near death experience#hallucinations#alcohol use#panic attacks#recovery/healing#fanfic
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
It's nearly midnight. It's a hot summer night and the gang is partying at Steve's. Season one Steve i think, and Billy and Tommy and Carol . Music is blaring, Tommy is sparking a joint, and Steve is smoking a cigarette. He laughs when Carol snatches the joint from Tommy's lips, getting a hey! in protest. Billy snickers and takes the joint from Carol's hand as she pulls Tommy in for a kiss and a shotgun. He takes a pull, exhaling through his nose before taking another, this time making rings.
"Show off," Steve says with a smirk, eyes bright and cheeks flushed. There's beer cans littered around and Steve reaches for the joint, pouting when Billy takes another hit before passing it. He sucks in and Billy's drunk, Steve is sucking, the night is hot, and maybe, just maybe, he's trying to get Steve's attention.
"You think that's showing off? Bet I can shot gun a beer faster than you." It's teasing, a challenge, and Steve easily rises to the bait, handing the joint back off to Tommy, who keeps hold of it, both him and Carol watching, sharing a knowing smirk.
"You're fucking on."
The thing is though.
There's only one more beer in the cooler.
And they stare at it, both thrown by the wrench in the plan.
And then Billy gets an idea.
"Okay, one beer, no problem. I do the first half, you do the second--"
"That's not gonna work dude, are you kidding me--?"
"You got a better idea? Or you just being a pussy?" And Steve rolls his eyes but snatches up the knife and holds it out to Billy, eyes half lidded and eyebrows raised, unimpressed. Billy snorts and snatches the beer out of the cooler, water and a few tiny flecks of ice dripping off, before grabbing the knife. He twirls it with a flourish and gets an eye roll in response.
"Well?" Steve goads and Billy hates how hot it is when Steve baits him. So he focuses on the beer and stabbing a hole. He holds the can up, popping the tab and easily gulping. Steve moves closer, watching Billy so intensely it makes his stomach clench in the best way. Finally, Billy holds the can out. Steve is quick, pressing his lips over the hole and tilting his head back, chugging the rest.
Billy can't help but stare, okay?
Steve's got a beautiful long neck, ready to be marked up. His jaw is strong and as he swallows, Billy imagines how it would feel if Steve's throat did that around his cock. Then there the stray droplets of beer that spill out from the corners of his mouth and travel down his chin and neck, making a trail Billy wanted to lick up with his tongue.
But then Steve is letting out a nearly pornographic m'ah! and grinning at Billy. He licks his lips, eyes flickering down to Billy's lips before going back up. He hasn't moved away either, still nearly shoulder to shoulder with Billy, and it makes his cheeks flush and heart pound. Steve's pupils seem to shift and his breath hitches, top teeth pulling his bottom lip in, teasingly slow as it popped back out.
A cough brings them both out.
"So!" Steve says, not moving, but turning to Carol and Tommy. "What do you think? Who won?"
"I--" Tommy begins, but Carol just snaps and he stops, giving a shrug like I tried.
"What do I think?" Carol asks, smirk tugging her lips as she stared them down. "I think you could have just grabbed another beer from the kitchen." It's very satisfying for her when they both go bright red.
#harringrove#steve harrington#billy hargrove#drug cw#alcohol use#tommy hagan#carol perkins#pre harringrove#technically lmao#not fully back but here is this
67 notes
·
View notes
Text
Gotta be REAL hard to keep that cool guy persona up if you're a giggly drunk.
✧ .✧. ✧
✧ Reblogging helps the comic grow! ✧
NEW MOBILE READERS, CLICK ME!
✧✧READ POWER PILLS ON✧✧ Webtoon | Tapas | GlobalComix
✧✧SUPPORT THE COMIC✧✧
PATREON | Redbubble | More Merch! | Buy the Books
#Power Pills#Webcomic#Original Comic#Superhero Comic#Comic Page#PowerPillsPage#Matt Notton#Alcohol Use
6 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hello! I haven’t seen you in a while! How have you been?
You clocked in at 19:13 on my end.
Oh yeah we haven’t seen each other in like Feels Like A Tear But Probably Wasn’t!
uuuuuuh, you haven’t been on my dash or in my notes, so 🤷♀️
ALSO I WENT TO A DRAG SHOW LAST TOME AND I WAS DANCING YEEEEEEEEEEEAH but I got no drag queen titty while my cishet bro did 😭😭😭😭
Dressed in rainbow stockings and my Genderfluid skirt from last year and a sleeveless black sexy shirt and the Grelle coat.
And the club’s “Screaming Orgasm” was a spicy blegh, but Mom took it and liked it. 12 bucks wasted imo
Mom’s fruity peach-slushie alcohol was yummy and I did a few shot beats and was slowly slurping it up.
And ig somebody else’s drink accidentally???
Despite being a chronic prescription-meds user, I did NOT, in fact, wake-up with a pounding headache or vomit or missing memory or anything fanfiction told me alcohol did despite having had two cups.
I guess having a brain disability does NOT a lightweight make?????
But also I found out like 20 minutes ago cuz Google that abortions are NOT done like Fanfiction C-Section or Seppuku, and so I spent YEEEEEEEARS imagining Kyoya from Beyblade cutting himself up for naught???? 😭😭😭 (this is why we need sex-Ed!)
Also, Beyblade Burst subbed actually tells you the anatomy of the Bey and how the special moves work and calling the attack/defense/stamina/balance, etc. Not just “styles”
Also, I LOVE the Beyxercise section at the end of BB God (Season 2), and now the end credits don’t feel right without it 😭😭😭😭😭
And I’ve posted more fics but they tend to have Meh or low hit counts 😭😭😭😭
And also BB changes also everyone’s names, even the beys, to even WORSE ones! Even if the beys have names that already exist! Like Spriggan to Spryzsn or Chronos to Cognite or KREIS SATAN to Kinetic Satomb or Valkyrie to Vaktryek, etc.
It just feels like name changes for the sake of name changes, like dub Yugioh!
4 notes
·
View notes
Note
I know you are probably really busy right now, but if you find the time, can I request a drabble of Jake taking care of a wasted Kauri? (Oh and please no / as little as possible angst. I feel like you are known for taking comfort requests and making them heartbreaking)
I love that my reputation leads to asks that try to keep me from burying you all in angst. I'm sorry! I can't help it, the angst flows through me! No worries, though! I will do my best.
-
"Come on. Drink the water, Kauri."
Kauri giggles, his hair hanging soaked in sweat and glimmering with speckles of glitter over his forehead and eyes. He's nearly limp, but when Jake tips the bottle to his lips he opens his mouth, swallows obediently. Water runs out the corners and trickles down each side of his throat, soaking into the neckline of his tank top. "I fucked a guy who looks like you in a bathroom at th' bar," He slurs, his head flopping to one side.
The world spins around him, just the right side of dizzy, and he watches Jake's face turn red, how he looks away. It strikes Kauri as funny all over again, and he keeps laughing, reaching up to slide his hands behind Jake's neck, fingers interlocked.
"Kauri-" Jake reaches up and pulls Kauri's hands back down, one at a time.
"He was s'big," Kauri whispers, as if telling a secret. "Everywhere except where I wanted him t'be. Are you... Are you big ever'where?"
"Kauri, stop." Jake feeds him more water. "Just drink this. How much did you drink tonight?"
"Dunno. Enough." Kauri pauses, and then a flicker of pain grips him, somewhere near his heart. The hilarity of it all seems suddenly, starkly sad instead. "Not enough. I dunno. Enough so I could-... could go in there with the guy, enough-... enough that I wasn't scared, not enough to forget-... He touched my n-neck and-"
"Sssshhhh, hey, it's okay. I got you, Kaur. I got you." Jake holds him close, letting Kauri curl up against him in the narrow, cramped backseat of Jake's shitty old four-door. "Did he hurt you?"
"No," Kauri says, and Jake pulls a rough blanket up over the two of them. The bass from the music thumps right through the walls and into the parking lot. Kauri's head feels suddenly heavy, overfull of thoughts, the dizziness shifting to discomfort. "He didn't. I w-wanted him to, but then I didn't and I said stop and he-"
"Did he stop?" Jake asks, voice lower than ever. Kauri hears the careful way he keeps himself calm, knows the anger that is kindling, ready to burn inside him. "Kauri? When you asked-"
"He stopped," Kauri says. He breathes in Jake's skin at his neck, smells shower gel, laundry soap, and deodorant and the underlying scent of Jake's skin. "He stopped."
"Good. Good, he should, he should if you say... Fuck. I got you, Kauri." Jake slides arms around him and holds him. He's warm and solid, and Kauri's eyes drift closed, heavy as stones tied to ankles underwater. "I've always got you."
"I know. S'why I call. I know you'll come get me. Even if you're mad. Are-..." Kauri clears his throat. "Are you mad at me?"
Jake is quiet, and one hand rubs up and down Kauri's back. "Nah. Mad at all the shit that happened to you, and kind of pissed that you feel like you have to run from it like this, but not mad at you. I'd rather take care of your drunk ass than study for finals anyway."
Kauri smiles, eyes closed. "My drunk very attractive ass," He corrects, slurring from sleepiness now more than the alcohol still in his veins. "It's a good ass, Jake."
"I'm sure it is," Jake replies, voice slightly dry.
"You can touch it if you want-"
"Kauri, seriously-"
"Okay, okay. Okay okay okay." He giggles again, soft this time, hardly more than a whisper. "Can I sleep in your car?"
"No, but you can sleep at the house. Let me get you back there."
"Nooooooo," Kauri twists his fingers into the fabric of Jake's t-shirt. "Like it here better."
"Your back's gonna feel like shit in the morning if you sleep like this."
"So's everything else. Don't care. Just... Just stay here with me for a while, okay? Before we go back. Just... Just stay with me like this."
Jake takes a deep breath, and then he lets his arm slide loosely around Kauri's stomach. His breath is warm on Kauri's scalp as he relaxes, shifting the glitter still lingering in wild black curls. "Yeah, okay. Just for an hour though."
"Promise?"
"I promise."
#jake the shelter guy#erase to control#kauri's poor life choices#drunkenness tw#drunk oc#alcohol use#whump oc#trauma recovery#imperfect victim#imperfect survivor#referenced dubcon#box boy universe#box boy#bbu#caretaker and whumpee
84 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
