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socheckitout-mikey · 2 years

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heey y’all! (‘: i don’t usually write smut, but this was a request from my old blog. it’s taken my ass like deadass three years to write it. ik it’s super long and i got carried away, but i’m proud bc i haven’t written smut in a very long time. originally it was meant to be semi nsfw but i went the whole nine yards instead!

also i’d like to give credit to @brideofcthulhu10 for helping me with this one. she helped co-write the beginning, whilst also giving me amazing pointers and keeping me on track when it came to marko’s character. so deffo give her blog a look through bc she’s such an amazing writer! <3333 - mae

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

(GIF credit: @bonniebirddoesgifs)

Title: The Dilemma

Pairings: Marko x Fem!Reader

Summary: As any high-school senior, end of year exams encroach upon you, which results in your disappearance from the infamous Boardwalk. Marko, your vampiric boyfriend, feels awfully neglected and sees the strain that boring old studying is causing you. After being a gigantic nuisance in your time of need, Marko decides to aid you with your dilemma by getting you to to unwind. An innocent massage turns to much more. (READER IS 18/19 YEARS OLD IN THIS PIECE!!!)

Word count: 9,916

Warnings: SMUT AHEAD SO 18+ ONLY!!! MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI! YOU WILL BE BLOCKED!! READER IS 18/19 IN THIS PIECE!!! Anxiety, angst, mentions of tension with parents, mentions of reader throwing things at Marko (mainly bc he scared her and also a plushie), established relationship, argument, make out session, massage, oral (female receiving), sexual content, unprotected sex, hair pulling, marking, depictions of blood, blood drinking/feeding and Marko being a sex God v.v Lemme know if I missed anything.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: 　　 :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

Finals had encroached upon you and the rest of your senior class like a throttling bitter conclusion. An immense pressure had settled upon your slumped shoulders in a complex manner. It all gave you an uproarious migraine. Perched upon those shoulders of yours was a Devil and an Angel, reciting an exhausting, unanimous monologue you had encountered fervently with frustration and exhaustion for the past few weeks. The Devil enumerated vividly about how the stress of hunching over your books would only cause your spine to permanently warp, whilst grey hairs would prematurely appear on your head. It whispered of the sincere notion that you would be able to seek vehement pleasure by kicking back and relaxing with your boyfriend Marko; who currently laid sprawled out against your cushiony pink covers in an absurdly bored fashion behind you. He was the poster child of, “Are you finished yet?”

His only purpose was to grate on your nerves that much more viciously.

The Angel held up its own assertive chant with the utmost conviction. A soothing lullaby that frankly lulled you into boring hibernation, as if you were a grizzly bear entering its cave for the tundric winter months to come. You were well aware that it spoke of knowledge, reason and logic. The qualities that were dwindling — yet with its vibrant torch, it led the way to the future you so desperately had dreamed of since you were in middle school: A good job meant a good home, and so the domino effect would hopefully follow you in a cascading positive effect. Yet passing wasn’t everything, right? Well, the Angels’ lustrous song seemed to disrupt the already choppy sea wrecking the ships in your mind, pointing the way to salvation. However, you felt as though the Devil latched on, shoving you under the bartering force that the School District whipped into your back. You were merely a slave to the formidable system.

And thus the Angel and Devil fought their daunting battle amongst who could lead you quicker to each destination they desired for you to propel towards. The truth of the matter was that there was no balance within the chaos. You either went all in or did nothing at all. You were only battling with the Yin and Yang within you, but you didn't quite realise that. You needed someone else to obtain that truth and light it up in a firework festival. That someone was unfortunately your bouncing boyfriend Marko.

The sudden weight upon your tired shoulders felt like an angsty teen drama — unbearable. They slumped down with a force as you looked at the Math equations before you with contempt. Your mind was playing tricks on you because now the algebra seemed to be written in some bizarre language you swore was only known by extraterrestrials. Never had you experienced such affliction quite so potent in all of your young years of living until this very moment in time. High school, fortunately, had come and gone like the spring’s floral breeze, allowing for the stuffy summer heat to bound through the atmosphere like a blundering bull in a China shop. Great, now you were sweating too.

Despite your immortal boyfriend, Marko, having intermittently insisted that you hadn’t needed the extra education, you had graciously swung your bat in a conflicting vicious fashion. Your battered old baseball had leapt its last journey, landing into the lap of a comfortable Community College here in Santa Carla. Your original aim and hope had been to apply for greener pastures, such as the university in the nearest plush city. Yet you knew it was too far away from the Boardwalk. Your painfully vampiric boyfriend would kick up a putrid stink at the mere notion of you being so far away. Especially since daytime already kept you both apart, creating such a colourful apprehension to course through your very mortal veins.

You’d miss Marko too much as well, and slumming it under your bed in the dorm room all day and night just wouldn’t cut it. It wasn’t going to be the ideal move for any party involved. Familiar sunny Santa Carla would just have to do before you surfed your last wave, ticketing you straight to The Immortality Club.

“College?!” Marko sputtered out like a dying steam engine.

His hazel eyes blinked several times in absolute bewilderment as his body froze. The brown fuzzy teddy bear he had been carelessly chucking up and down in the air in a mindless fashion missed his right hand entirely. Its furry, soft backside flopped with a tender bounce atop his chest.

“Why would you go back to school baby?” He inquired desperately, “You’re already done.” His words hung in the air, thick like an uncomfortable smog riddled with consternation.

His nimble fingers swatted the bear off of him and he sat up straighter than a plank. The tender plush bounced off of your floorboards, tumbling into your open closet.

The same fingers suddenly danced restlessly to your dusty, cluttered nightstand where he aimed for that prized purple pen with the fluffy pom-pom dotted on the end of it: His digits fiddled with it fruitlessly, eyebrows creased together. Boy was he all sorts of twitchy tonight since boredom had taken hold of him by the balls. He felt as though he was going crazy. Especially with the apprehension at your announcement to further your needless education. Who needed books and crammed study sessions when you could be a youthful undead being for the rest of eternity? You’d never grow old, never die — this was a total blessing sitting right in your lap! Yet you shoved it off to the side without another thought. All of the previous discussions you’d had with him about turning meant nothing to you now, or so it seemed. Poofing into thin air, therefore to Marko, it meant you’d been replaced by some other worldly ghost that reeked of crippled anxiety; which, by the way, was akin to the rotting scent of death itself.

He had lazily propped himself against the headboard of your bed now, eyes not meetings yours — almost as if he were too meek to look up at you. He already knew the answer to his question from interpreting the blurry, chaotic dance of your thoughts rattling in your brittle skull. One more thought and your head would come blowing off! After all, he’d also noticed that physically you were in a frenzied stupor of stress and inner turmoil. You reeked of palpable insecurity and rotting angst, just like a teenage drama on screen. Blegh! It caused the blond boy to crinkle his hooked nose wryly, warping his angelic gestures.

Part of the reason why Marko alluded to the opportunity of peering up at you was due to the simple fact that his visit had come to be a frightening ordeal on your behalf. One that led to an abundant earful of curses and a book to have been launched at him — almost knocking his head clean off his shoulders. Right, you had the reflexes of a rabid raccoon startled by a rat when you were snuck up on. He knew better than to do such a thing. Luckily he had ducked just in time, smartly remarking that you should have gone for sports instead. He regretted the witty quip instantly by the displeased look on your face. So he was cast upon your frilly bed to pass the time like a woeful jester sentenced to imprisonment for not having entertained his Queen accordingly. The tragedy of it all!

And although you were aggravated at his unexpected visit — more salty over the fact he’d frightened you —, you did not have the slightest of hearts to kick him out. It felt too heart wrenching for you to do so. In fact, it was like kicking a stray kitten out into the rain. His damn bulbous eyes whenever you’d get close to the notion would appear like round, quivering rain drops — the pupils heavily swallowing the earthy iris. So you sighed instead, turning back to your work whilst Marko made himself comfortable. Well, as comfortable as his bored self would permit.

“I don’t want just a job, Marko.” You muttered irately under your breath from over your complex Math equations that were scrawled in their dreadful chicken scratch language upon gridded paper.

“I want a career! I wanna hone a craft.” You explained further with a nonchalant wave of your wrist. Your tone was curt, attempting to balance out his boredom that apparently began to increase the longer he remained there.

You paid no heed to his insistence, scribbling your notes with a vengeance for the paper you carved it into.

“That’s what I mean though,” Marko huffed out a hefty sigh, sitting up straight suddenly with his legs criss-crossed in a half lotus position. “Why do you need to work, anyway? Just one bite and BAM! All your problems would be gone, baby doll. I keep tellin’ ya!” He exclaimed animatedly, hands thrown up in the air in his own heated and wondrous stupor.

He’d even get David to teach you how to use compulsion so you could get whatever you wanted. It was so pathetically simple! He wondered now if you’d hit your head recently to have forgotten the simplicities of becoming a vampire. No stress would ensue, so long as you abided but the rules. Why couldn’t you just see that?

“Hush! I’ve already made up my mind about this. You’re not going to change it!” You quipped back sharply, grabbing a rusty coloured stuffed cat from your messy desk and hurled it half heartedly in his direction for the second time that night.

Damn, you really did mean business tonight.

The plushie cat managed (miraculously may I add) to bounce tenderly off of the side of his perky blond curls. A low laugh escaped from his sharp mouth. He was well aware by now that you were only attempting to push him away due to the draining stress of academics. The prospect of taking things too personally had been going really swell up until this point. He wasn’t going to afford himself to buckle now like he would from anyone else. Afterall, any other person who launched two objects at him would be decapitated and dead at his musty booted feet. You were getting off easy by a mile in comparison. You didn’t even know how much Divine Intervention had spared you at this point.

So instead he untangled his thin legs from their half lotus position, swinging them off the edge of the bed as he observed you nervously wind your fingers through your hair — tugging slightly at the roots in vexation. The sight made him feel sympathy for you, a feeling that was nearly completely foreign to someone like him. It caused his dead stomach to knot and twist uncomfortably because he just wanted to lend you a helping hand. He just wasn’t sure how he could. School work wasn’t exactly his forte and all, being as he never acquired much of an education when he was a kid at the end of the last century. Nevertheless, he was your boyfriend and boyfriends had to take care of their girlfriends, right?

With a defeated sigh, Marko pressed his strong palms on his knees and found the sudden energy to get to his feet. His chunky boots clunked noisily on the ground, an incessant irritance to you. It made your body visibly cringe in your chair with each step he took. It was as though he was dropping bricks of led onto the ground. Your boyfriend, lost in his own deep thoughts, remained oblivious, wandering aimlessly to your bookshelf in search of something to cure his doldrum. The shelves were coated in a peculiar thin layer of dust, a dead giveaway that you had not kept this space to its usual tidiness. His inquisitive fingers collected the fluffy debris similar to dust bunnies on the tips before swiftly rubbing them together, which disintegrated his fuzzy pals into mere nothingness.

‘Damn, when was the last time you cleaned this place?’ He thought. It wasn’t like you to just allow things to collect dust. At this rate, you’d end up having your own personal Cave that Marko didn’t want a hand in helping you clean.

His pesky touch ventured along, dancing across the spines of old tattered novels aged well with love. Reading wasn’t really his style, but he supposed he didn’t mind it when he’d lounge in your lap like a cat, bathing in the stark silver moonlight whilst you read ‘The Outsiders’ to him late into the night. The accents you pulled off were enjoyable, a husky hushed twang so your parents wouldn’t hear. You always did a spanking job at Matt Dillons’ Dallas Winston. He couldn’t help but snort at the times you’d tear up during said character’s devastating death. It had alarmed Marko the first time it had happened. Now he only ever teased you about it, equipped with the ability to wipe your tears away and give you a moment to settle before continuing. He enjoyed those memories a lot.

Marko’s marvellously silver tongue clicked in his mouth liberally to an unordinary beat he’d plucked out of thin air from many moons ago. It did nothing but sourly distract you from your work. Your body tense once more, knee jerking in a wild bouncing fashion, knocking the underside of your desk in time with his clacking tune. You chewed your pencil menacingly, the brittle wood splintering slightly in your mouth. It made astounding practice for future inevitable victims. Perhaps the School Board would be your first ones.

Still, the more you travelled down the mental highway, you felt nothing but guilt at the thought of kicking Marko out. Recalled his disheartened countenance that struck his handsome features at the mere inkling of casting him out into the bewitched humid night.

Just when you thought you’d lost your mind enough, Marko flicked the power switch of your radio as if on purpose. The speakers screamed to life, blaring out the belting introduction of You Give Love a Bad Name by Bon Jovi. The precipitous noisy intrusion throttled into the air, shocking your eardrums. It scared the living daylights out of you for the second time that night! Marko’s mouth spread into a harmless grin, mouthing the lyrics with the utmost enthusiasm; his hands scrambling to his abdomen to begin shredding on the gnarliest air guitar he could muster. His head and body hopped comfortably along to the hypnotic drum beat and flourishing bass, floating up on a mouthwatering guitar riff and husky vocals to die for. Edgy.

As if possessed by a formidable spirit, you whipped around in your seat, eyes wild with offence. All of the equations behind you were now abandoned. You were giving Marko the look that could surely kill even an immortal. He seemed to be on another planet, too deep in the rock n’ roll blaring boisterously from your speakers to take note of your inconvenience.

Prompted by a supernatural sixth sense, the curly blond turned to look at you — an honest inquiry over whether his air guitar appeared better than Paul’s ready on the tongue. It’s life, a premature one, slid back down his throat and into his voice box. Realisation hit him when the usual mischief in his facial expression fled his countenance entirely. He mimicked that of a child being told off by its raging mother.

“Oops!” His lips mouthed, turning off the radio instantly.

The stark silence built thickly in the air, only allowing the remaining orchestra of cicada’s outside to be heard. Your heart was pounding in your chest, that vein in your forehead bulging with every beat of your galloping heart.

“Sorry babe.” He stated sheepishly, hands held up in surrender by his head.

“It’s fine. It’s fine.” You gritted out twice, more for your benefit the second time around.

As if to solidify a semblance of being non-combative, you held your hands up on either side of your head. A silent plea for Marko to cooperate with your simple boundaries.

Perhaps he wasn’t entirely sorry about it, but that didn’t matter if you didn’t know it. Though with the way you tried not to glower at him, he understood, without a doubt, that you were more than aware he was only half apologetic. After all, he was fuelled by a thick smog of boredom, which only forced unease to burst from him like the flames of Hell. Nevertheless, he watched you with his widened gaze before settling on your bed once more. A couple more hours wouldn’t kill him, right?

“Just don’t touch anything, okay? As soon as I get through the rest of this chapter, maybe we can watch a movie together.” You suggested through gritted teeth.

An inkling of hope dawned across Marko’s features like The Gates of Heaven had opened for him. It felt like the sun was warming his ice cold flesh, the fuzzy memory from his mortal life in 1901 came to fruition in his mind. Refreshing to say the least. His back inched higher, attempting to obtain a good look at your bulky textbook.

“How much ya got left?”

You hummed, pondering whilst your stiff aching fingers thumbed the pages. It was an entire wad. Marko’s heart rocketed into the old floorboards under his feet, and he hung his head in existential dread. You wouldn’t even be finished by sun up.

“About half a chapter,” you commented with hope, but to him it was all a charlatan’s sham.

“Yeah, yeah okay…” he mumbled, cast to the cushiony abode of your bed.

The ambience of the room settled back to the mind numbing pace of planned study sessions. His only two forms of escape were to either cast himself into a premature sleep or leave without you noticing. Both were tempting. Nevertheless, he remained there, paralysed with indecision.

Soon misery encased him, your plush bed and messy surroundings incapable of quenching his need for attention. A sour trance gathered deep within his undead soul. Blasé eyes analysed the way that you seemed to slightly settle in your seat. The scratching of pencil on paper overcame the atmosphere like a thick infestation of utter disinterest. Though he wasn’t alluded by the fact your muscles were still taut underneath your baggy black shirt and baby blue pyjama shorts. The sight made him pity you once more, because you were slaving away.

Suddenly a nagging urge told him to just burn all of your textbooks so he could have his damn girlfriend back!

From his stance on the bed, he noted that complex algebra was what you were studying: The sight made his stomach twist sickly and his head throb, because with Paul rotting his brain ninety percent of the time, Marko couldn’t even recall what 2+2 equaled.

Eventually his patience wore thin.

“Babe, how long have you been studying?” He finally broke the long silence. A casual air to his tone.

Marko rested his elbows upon his knees with a hunched back once he sat up; unconsciously mirroring you. Fixated on your entire being. It was almost humorous the way you seemed to sink further into your stressful work with every equation you tortured yourself to complete. The inclination both distressed and astonished him. This wasn’t like you at all. In fact, he was willing to bet that you’d been switched out by a government clone provided by the CIA with the way you were acting. You despised math!

When was the last time you had taken a damn break? When was this ever going to end? Were you ever not going to throw ginger stuffed cats at him? God forbid if he had to endure you worrying when your exams were all said and done. If you so much as breathed a damn fear towards the notion of not passing, he was going to lose his damn mind.

It was almost nearing the mark of an entire month since you’d made your typical appearance at the Boardwalk. An unusual occurrence in itself. It had worried him to begin with, especially since it had occurred out of the blue. No notion communicated whatsoever of your educational predicament. Marko was usually rather patient with you, however, since he hadn’t ever exactly attended school himself (or graduated for that matter), he was honestly struggling to relate to the importance of it all. Good grades and whimsical desires to attend college didn’t hold the same meaning to him as it did to you. It frankly just sounded like a damn fairytale.

In fact, the whole ordeal just was a major waste of time to him. Afterall, he held the potent magic of immortality in the palms of his hands; brandished like the forbidden fruit that Adam himself consumed. There were sneaky tricks and enchanting gifts that he — along with every vampire — possessed. All that temptation didn’t seem to tickle your fancy in the current moment. Marko couldn’t deny the truth that if it (college) made you happy in the long run, he didn’t have the heart to cut in and stop you. He wanted you to be content at the end of the day. So long as you also cared about his happiness too. It didn’t really feel like you did — not with you pushing him away like he was some diseased fleabag.

“Uuuuhhmmmm shit,” you began with a flourishing fluster encapsulating your countenance. You used the end of your chewed up pencil to scratch the side of your head vigorously, “I dunno, three days?” You shrugged.

It sounded as if you were asking him for clarification, but Marko sat there just as clueless and waiting for your answer.

To be completely transparent, that was only a guesstimate thrown to the stuffy air with no refreshing breeze to carry it away from you. You were utterly fried; all for very different reasons. Meals consisted of take-out or quick instant snacks so the remnants could be discarded easily. You went from a daily shower to one every three days; dishes had been piled up so high in your sink, because you didn’t possess the luxury known as time: All until your mother lost her mind and dove in infuriatingly to maintain downstairs her spotless domain. Completing these simple tasks designed to keep your living quarters in order were overwhelming now.

Marko wasn’t the only one feeling the absence of your chipper presence. As just mentioned, your dutiful mother took up your chores to accomplish with disgruntled agitation, because she had limited time too. Yet no matter how much she may have resented you currently, she found some compassion for you in your final weeks as a senior highschool student. She took it with a badge of silence, but you felt that heavy churning of guilt in your gut whenever she would impulsively huff and puff through the thin walls, as well as slam cupboards shut. Nothing went unnoticed by you, but it drove you further into the disorganised abode of unrelenting chaos. You were just glad your parents were out on a weekend trip. Sweet silence was yours.

Escaping was all you wanted to do. Yet you were bound to your desk by a hefty chain around your ankle with the belief that if you failed, you’d have let everyone around you down. There was so much pressure riding on your back that it felt unbearably hot. Scalding tears burnt the corners of your eyes and you fought to wipe them away with two quick slaps to your cheeks.

Oh how you missed the Boardwalk desperately! Longing for the nights out with Marko where the oceanic droplets dotted your skin when you paraded down it on his metallic steed. They seemed so far away now, so out of touch that you could barely recall what it felt like to be nestled in the musty, dusty caverns where the boy’s home sat within. Those nights were always fun, riddled with a peculiar perception of time that made them feel as though they went on forever. Frankly, you missed him and his brothers. However, even though you did, you couldn’t afford to burn out. If you could just squeeze out a little more, then maybe you could manage to get through with a hair length left of energy and patience.

Like a precariously challenging puzzle, the pieces finally clicked into place in Marko’s nifty skull. A lightbulb dinged over his head, illuminating everything around him and he saw things with virgin eyes. Once that had occurred, the relief he experienced was knocked viciously out of the way and replaced by a worry that he never had felt before. You’d always been splendid at managing yourself in a healthy manner. Balancing and pacing yourself was a natural instinct you possessed, crafted into an art during the academic year. Marko had sat back comfortably up until this point, just taking it all for granted, because you’d always been so self-reliant.

Yet as he stared at you from across your bedroom intently, he began to take note of the little differences surrounding you both. The space was riddled with disorganisation as its main theme, messiness spread out in all of its glory. A large pile of dirty clothes lay in the left corner of your room, making him silently plead with the universe that your socks wouldn’t start crawling out towards him with a mind of their own. Your pink bed covers he was perched upon weren’t made in their usual neat style; that stupid desk you had yourself rooted in front of was clumped together in a marinade of dirty food containers, pens, pencils and papers. A giant teetering tower of jagged books to the right looked ominous and shaky to him. The trash can beside it was overflowing with a cornucopia of crumpled bits of paper that looked as if Jason himself had hacked at them with his own chainsaw! What in the hell was going on with you?

“You shouldn’t sweat the exams, babe.” Marko stated without much of a rational thought.

The gratuitous comment seemed to startle you to austere stillness. Similar to a cat who’d grown enraged, frightened as its fur and tail zapped with pulsing electricity. Your aura resembled the frizzy taut hairs of said feline friend; and your head whipped to the side so viciously that it struck a literal nerve, causing your vision to blur. Paying little mind to the agony of the nauseating feeling, you pressed on.

“What!?” You seethed through tightly gritted teeth. You were a festering beast. All the chipped pieces of fragile pottery you’d held together shattered. Patience was no longer your virtue.

Acting on impulse, Marko’s fingerless gloved hands sprang to the sides of his head once more, eyebrows raised. You really needed to chill out.

“Damn, hear me out!” He started, a little heat behind his words.

He was frankly pretty tired of the onslaught you shoved onto him. You were beginning to yank him into the depths of your own anguish. He never swung that way initially, but you were spoiling his night that had started off perfectly fine, thank you very much.

“All that I meant by that was you’re the smartest person I know, babe. You’ve passed everything so far. There’s no way you’re failin’ anything!” His words had intended to diffuse the bomb he’d set up from his previous comment.

Reassurance was what you needed right? Wrong. It only seemed to spread the shrapnel and vibrant inferno swirling violently within you. A snort dispelled,, forcing you to drop your pencil on your notebook. Disbelief rattled your expression, the fuse to a TNT’s detonator had been slammed down staunchly and rage encompassed you over the smallest of things.

“Yeah, like you know what it’s like to have all this pressure on your shoulders. You just bum around the Cave like you’re a damn king without a care in the world! The most you have to worry about is whether you get David the right kind of take-out when Michael’s lazing on the bed next to Star!”

The words were haughty, sturdy ammunition pelting Marko to a mushy pulp. The worst part was that you’d turned your back on him when you’d said it. Honing in on your unreasonable point. The world didn’t just revolve around you, you know.

There was a flicker of irritation that blossomed like a breathtakingly fiery rose in his chest. Hot electricity pulsed his eyes alight, though as soon as the burning rage had appeared, Marko settled it with a deep breath. Right, you were his girlfriend, he couldn’t kill you like some blundering drunk Surf Nazi. No matter how much of a raging bitch you were being right now.

A few minutes sauntered by, a tense silence stretching with its thick tendrils that imbedded themselves in your throat. Realisation hit you square in the chest and you dug the heels of your hands into your sore, closed eyes harshly at the thought of how stupid you were being.

“Shit! I’m so sorry.” There was a denseness to your tone, shame blanketing it like a sugar coated donut. If only it felt as sweet.

“Nah, don’t sweat it, babes!” Marko released with a heavy sigh, a passive manner taking over him. It wasn’t hard to do.

Afterall, the anger had been shaken out of every dead cell in his body. He lifted a cool hand, his fingers burying in his blond licks and pushing them out of his eyes, a simple motion that soothed him slightly.

“No, it’s not not!” You sighed out, tipping your head back in your wooden chair till it teetered a bit. You stared dreadfully up at the ceiling with bitter contempt. “I hate this! I hate all of this studying. If I look at one more number I’m gonna commit arson on the school so I don’t have to take my exam on Monday morning!”

“You know that can be arranged for you with the help of Paul and I? ” Marko grinned at you, the prospect of putting all this incessant studying to a grand halt really tickled his fancy; whether you were being serious or not.

“Not funny!”

“What? You wouldn’t be connected. Scouts honour, babes.”

Though from the expression you were giving him, Marko was certain that attempting to pull jokes with you so soon wasn’t in anyone’s best interests just yet. Not when you were wound up so tight. However there was the beginning of a smile working on the edges of your beautiful lips. It settled the tension a little.

“There’s my girl!” He replied proudly, patting his gloved hands on the thighs of his jeans habitually.

Suddenly another lightbulb moment zinged its fluorescent rays above his head. Jackpot! He knew exactly what you needed to relax. He did, afterall, have magical hands that were perfect for massaging. A little TLC and you’d be well oiled enough to snuggle with him as you both watched a movie. Just a little loving was all he wanted — he missed you.

Like a golden sleek mountain lion with prey locked in its predatory gaze, Marko crept stealthily towards you on surprisingly light feet with his paws out. Ready for the kill. Those icy digits were immediately welcomed by your clammy hot skin, and your affliction seemed to melt away in the heat of the humid air. This was precisely the reaction Marko had imagined in his wondrously gruesome noggin.

To begin with, you seemed tense at the idea of his touch gone foreign from the lack of his familiar presence. Frustration mixed with guilt at your own pitiful past actions as a girlfriend. The stress was making you crack on so many levels. His touch was comforting despite the fact your shoulders made a subtle attempt at shaking him off. Yet he had a firm hold on you — certainly not enough to cause harm. What didn’t he understand about this entire ordeal? This was extremely important to you. His candid words rung in your ears, a gong gone off to begin the journey of relaxation and release of pent up frustrations.

“You gotta take a break. Even just for five minutes.” He echoed your already persuaded thoughts. A wispy coo, hypnotic in nature.

You were incapable of resistance to his powerful abilities he reserved specifically for times such as these. Sure he wasn’t David, but Marko knew how to pull someone as stubborn as you into his lane, wrestling them into a relaxed submission of chill time. Damn him and his undead powers!

His fingers were possessed by black magic — working at the sore, aching muscles that had become strained by impeccably poor posture and a lack of necessary exercise. You lacked both the hefty bark and bite to fight him, it had disappeared with the energy and motivation to engage in anyone or anything other than what was currently going on in the present moment. Temptation wanted you to reap the rewards of Marko’s skilful ministrations. You swiftly ushered into the realm of utter selfishness, leaning into his touch wantonly the moment his pesky long appendages massaged down your shoulders in a taut yet tender fashion. A wince escaped your lips once he worked on a specific knot. You stirred and twitched in the seat like it had become unbearably hot.

With your face bunched up, a moan entailing slight anguish fluttered past your lips, Marko eased up on said spot, focusing on another area.

“Atta girl,” He grinned, “Relax…” an angelic whisper crept into your ear.

He sounded hypnotic, binding you under his blissful spell of ease. Though it was that specific spot in your sore muscles that caused you irritation. Marko left it happily because he’d worked the majority of it out. Now his long, thin fingers padded at the balls of your shoulders, solace in nature before returning up the valley of your neck for the second time. He simpered subconsciously to himself in a victorious fashion the moment you went completely lax under his touch. A pleasurable surrender to his beck and call. Your arms went limp, resembling the feeling and look of overcooked spaghetti. The rear of the chair and Marko’s light, yet secure grip on you were the only two things that kept you upright. There was an immature smugness to his motions that you could practically feel engraved into you.

“You like that?” There was audacity for him to whisper it against the soft shell of your ear. Such a seductive note.

Your response came to him through another throaty groan of approval and a swift, gentle nod of your head. So subtle that for a moment, he wondered if he’d dreamt up the consensual physical action entirely.

Mischief purchased him, a long lost friend. Sharp teeth nicked the delicate flesh of your earlobe, mouth finding a mind of their own to trail down the side of your neck. The feverish pulsepoint he’d grown to know well was peppered in an onslaught — each kiss and nip purposeful. Melting like the ice caps into his touch, the Devil suddenly pulled away after taking a step back. Your back was held up by the chair entirely. A pout formed your precious mouth, head tilted towards him. Your half hooded eyes unveiled a cheeky sight indeed: He was smirking with that Cheshire grin he was so renowned for. Not to mention that he’d propped himself like royalty on the edge of the bed, his head cocked to the side in amusement.

“What? You want more?” An arrogance wafted from him, sent on the hot summer breeze.

He knew you were hooked by the way you turned in your chair to finally acknowledge him fully. “Then c’mere.” He said simply, patting his lap.

Rising from your chair was methodical. Lots of attention had to be put into moving your stiff limbs almost gone numb from being in the same position for god knows how long. Yet you padded over to your awaiting throne, straddling his waist boldly. Hands floated to your hips, squeezing them longingly, and as if bound under his hypnotic spell from earlier, you found his lips in a mixture of rushed passion and want. Marko was cool, hanging back and letting you explore the excitement you’d been starving for for weeks. He was just happy to go along for the ride, seeing where it took you both. This wasn’t so much about him as it was about you.

Your tongue intruded his mouth, a sudden willingness to become as close to him as physically possible. He beckoned beneath you, chest tightening with the giddiness that felt oh so good to experience. Teeth nipped at your lower lip, a yearning to eventually get at the crimson liquid buried beneath your thin, delicate skin was intricate but controlled. Taunting and malicious hands wandered, pushing beneath fabric to clutch at the supple flesh of your breasts. You pulled apart for a breath, a gasp of alluring surprise fluttering from your mouth. Marko chuckled against the flesh of your delicate throat — not missing the sultry glow having engulfed you. It now permeated towards him. Frustration could be played out in more than one way, which he was happy to do.

The black tee you’d been sporting came over your head in a single tug, cast to the floor with his mix-matched jacket and crop top. He admired the rise and fall of your bare breasts, highlighted in the moonlight — embarrassing you in the way he deemed was the cutest. Yet he made no move towards influencing your next moves. Instead the icy tips of his fingers tickled up your sides, ghosted along your spine to entice goosebumps. Your gaze settled on his beautiful flesh , fair and adorned with muscles beneath his strong skin. He made your mouth water, the washboard abs and the strength that came from him in more than just the physical aspect set you on fire. Your staring amused him. Were you still too shy to touch despite this having happened in times gone by? He was all yours. There was no need for meaningless delays. The inevitable was bound to occur. You might as well just meet him in the middle.

Your warm fingertips settled upon his sturdy chest whilst you mounted him. A delicious expression of your needs being met flashed across your angelic features, but your lips twisted into such a devilish smirk. Some would title you as a promiscuous nymph, tantalisingly rocking your hips back and forth — creating much needed friction. Marko’s fingers smoothed up your sides, his own breath flustered out of his lungs. Yet he just watched you, hazel eyes deepening from the dilation of his pupils. A hunter was being fed under your seductive spell. Such a horny, pretty thing you were, rutting against him like a desperate bitch in heat. It caused amusement to tickle his senses, because he knew this wouldn’t suffice enough of your needs. Witnessed it dawn frustratingly upon your countenance. You needed more. You wanted more.

“Atta girl.” He winked, grinning impishly up at you. A seductive golden halo flowed from his head as he laid there admiring you.

Before long, his patience wore thin. His back arched upwards then, lips trailing along the swell of your sensitive breasts. They glistened deliciously with sweat in the moonlight, inviting his tongue to taste the salty liquid. You sighed, hips faltering, thwarting your efforts to get off. A pathetic whimper of dissatisfaction escaped you, rumbling in your chest. He felt it against his sinful tongue, sucking sweet little marks into your skin. And silently, his fingers hooked into the waistband of your shorts and panties, tugging down gently. You manuevred yourself over him, eager to get any remaining clothes off and have him take control. You never knew what to expect with him, which was all the more exciting. Yet all he did was clasp his lips around your right nipple, suckling on it firmly, though not enough to hurt. His teeth nipped at it, tugging ever so slightly in the way you always approved — all whilst he stared up at you. Man was he a tease.

As soon as it had started, the pleasure ceased. Gone in the blink of an eye. You stared down at your boyfriend, your hips twirling in rebellion. Already you were quivering, at his mercy whilst your fingers tangled in his beautifully curly locks.

“What?” He inquired with an innocent tilt to his head.

Distinct symptoms of embarrassment clouded your features — your skin felt hot. The only thing you could do was nip your swollen bottom lip and draw your eyebrows together in the centre. So cute. Why was he doing this? It was simple, he wanted to.

“Hmmm? Use your big girl words, baby.” He added with a breathy laugh meant to mock you. His large palms smoothed against the softest parts of your body reassuringly.

You gulped, throat dry and hoarse. Your hips rutted on his hardened cock concealed beneath the rough denim. It’s roughness dampened by your sopping cunt. You whimpered as he guided your hips, looking hungrier than ever. Silently pleading for him to touch you the way you loved it the most. However, he did not play into these silent games. You knew that, but it was always worth a try. Sometimes he was forgiving and lenient. Tonight he seemed to be holding back, admiring your handiwork until you begged him with delirium to give you what you wanted.

“I can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me. Hmm?” He cooed up at you.

“I want more,” you began pitifully, eyes unable to meet his heavy gaze.

“More of what?” He was milking this, enjoying the way you twitched.

“More of you.” As if that could answer his blatantly insistent inquiry. Yet before he could open his mouth to prod further, you’d beaten him to the punch, “I want your mouth.”

A diabolical sexy grin spread across his face. Sharp pearly whites glinted in the argent glow menacingly, but only for show. To intimidate you into the correct position. The air in your lungs caught in your throat at the sight, forcing you to shiver. He was going to force you into helplessness with your limbs unable to hold you up afterwards, all accompanied with a mushy mind with him at the centre of it. Duties and resilient responsibilities were a thing of the past. Well, at least for tonight. What you were asking him for was something he was more than qualified to provide. A god-like tongue that made your head spin in a volatile tornado and your thighs squeeze deliciously around his head. The thought began thawing out the embarrassment coiled in your gut and latched into your flesh like barbed coils. Marko managed to pull them out effortlessly and painlessly. Thus, fueled by a fire in his own belly, he flipped you over at the flick of a finger. The cool sheets beneath you were welcomed because of the clammy air. The wind momentarily knocked out of you due to a lustre of giddiness. You laid there, breathless and bothered, watching him slither down your body like a ravenous serpent. Attentive nips and open mouthed kisses pressed along the way. You sighed with contentment, legs parting to fit him between them.

Gazes locked, he pressed your legs up towards your chest, spreading you open for him. There was little you could do to hide from him. His strong palms prevented such a shameful sin, the tips of his blunt nails digging into the supple backs of your thighs. The sting welcomed by you. Vulnerability was nowhere to be found — not even in your fuzzy brain. He liked it better that way. You were entirely enthralled by impulses and senses. The events of earlier ancient history he didn’t want to revisit any time soon. Wanton desire encompassed you. He’d incinerated all feelings of abashment from your being. You were tainted with a bold desperation. A one track mind that only Marko could read and satisfy.

“Just relax…” He breathed against the tender skin of your inner thigh. You could entrust him with this.

When he dove in, he had the enthusiasm of a starved man. The tip of his wet flickering appendage swiped your folds. Once, twice and a third time. On and on it went. The taste of you was salty yet sweet, the perfect addictive combination. You were perfect underneath him, letting his pretty gratified tongue serve blessings upon your clit. Faster and faster he adored you, suckling and nipping upon your sensitive bundle of nerves at the right intervals. It was all so perfect. Driving you further and further up the edge. You squealed under his onslaught, chest rising and falling as if possessed. Your limbs shook, eyes rolling into the rear of your frazzled skull. Yeah, you’d finally escaped. All of your inconsequential concerns fled from your body whilst you pushed Marko further into your sex. It was pathetic as you wantonly moaned his name, a repetitive mantra. So pitiful in fact that your hips rocked against his tongue, the tip of his nose catching your clit. Marko was just happy to drown in you. Your sticky essence dripping down his chin. All he could do was lap up what you offered, and none of it went to waste.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuuuuck!” You heaved into the clammy air, your eyes bleary by now.

Just one more stripe and he was going to ruin you.

You tumbled from heaven, rocketing down to Earth. Your descent imploring delirium. The ability to quit shaking was nowhere to be found. There was Marko, parting from your folds in a sticky and panting mess. His predator instincts lit aflame like a match in the dark, all because of your erratic heartbeat that had been palpitating under his skillful onslaught. You smelled so superbly delicious it made him delirious, rough hands settled on either side of your head to trap you in the cage he put you in. His glowing yellow eyes and slightly warbled features should have terrified you, yet they did not. You felt a love for the monster that mirrored your feelings in his own, demonic entirety. Your fingers were lazy, ghosting the tips upon his protruded brow bone. Despite his monstrosity, his features morphed back to that of a human’s with your enduring patience. A glow remaining in his perky eyes — an ardent aura surrounded the beast. Calloused fingers smoothed away the stray hairs to your face uncomfortably with sweat. Couldn’t stop the grin that came about from you looking so lost in your thoughts. You were fucked out already and he’d barely even begun. He decided then that he could’ve stared at you like this forever, because not a thought outside of him remained in your head. That’s what he appreciated the most. No competitions, just you and him. That’s all that was yearned for.

Lips crashed together, though your fight for dominance was easily overthrown by Marko, his pesky fingers pinching and pulling on your nipples. He rolled them between his fingers. A surge of gratitude took over you, hummed right into his mouth. Teeth gnashed together, it was heated, fueled by an endless amount of passion. Oh you were driving him crazy. Your hands fiercely clutched onto his strong shoulders, nails digging into the soft cool flesh of them. You were lost fully in the reality of ecstasy. Disoriented from the notion that once you started, you didn’t want it to stop. He was the incubus that tainted you, and he too could not stop himself from damning you once again. He’d yank you straight into hell with him. You were all his.

So his palms were strong, scrunching up the bedsheets beside your head, catching the strands of your hair within its hold. It stung, leading a pleasant hiss from you and into his mouth. Your own fingers pinging the button of his jeans before dipping into the waistband of his boxers. His lips broke apart, teeth nipping your bottom lip almost hard enough to draw blood. Yes, you were a promiscuous nymph, working him further and further until precum leaked languidly from the tip, trickling and spilling onto your knuckles. The impish smirk you gave him sealed the deal.

“Not yet,” he whispered against your ear, a breathy chuckle expelled when you continued. “This is about you, baby. I can’t do that if I’ve busted all over you.” He grinned.

He did have a fair point. Off the remainder of his clothes went. Now no barriers remain between the pair of you. Naked and vulnerable in an iridescent glow from the moon.

In typical fashion of your boyfriend, he possessed an impatient roughness to him. A single hand manoeuvred your legs apart, one hiked upon his awaiting forearm and the other snug around his hip. In one swell tug down, you were spread open for him, the tip of his glistening cock pressed into your soaked folds. The minimal friction had invited your hips to buck up rebelliously. Yet the beast watched you with heavy eyes, watching the mouthwatering way he sunk barely into your cute little hole. It was enough for his senses to snap entirely. The second he pushed in fully, a grunt tumbled out and against the shell of your ear. The size of him filled you up in a way that you never thought was imaginable. The intrusion was sudden but smooth, forcing you to whimper and tuck your face into his shoulder. Your legs twitched, tensed whilst your palms instinctively reached out to press themselves against his lower abdomen. You protested, softly pushing back and he obliged, but only to sink back in slowly.

Yet a sweetness prevailed, his mouth whispering encouragingly into your ear, “That’s it, babygirl. You take me so good.”

The praise led to your hands smoothing up his rippled abdomen, appreciating the body that belonged to a Greek God. Closer he leaned into you, your body relaxing from the sudden intrusion he’d worked in and out of you with a gentle rocking of his hips. All of it pulled that wolfish simper from your breathless boyfriend. Your hips had a mind of their own, twitching to meet his abundantly stuttering hips in the middle. A dull ache blossomed and pulsed in your hot cunt. You wanted him so badly that it hurt. He pined for you just as violently, enough to pull back swiftly and snap his hips roughly into you. Any semblance of patience eradicated at the weathering fray in the string, crashing over into a dominant nature he was renowned for. You were all too obedient and joyous to follow. The intrusion into your cervix was unexpected, drawing out a wanton cry from your parched throat. His movements were deliberate, gaze darkening substantially in the shade of luscious ecstasy. Every cell in both of your bodies bursting to life whilst Marko did all of the work.

“M-Marko!” You stammered and gasped. Nothing but a pathetic whimper against the edge of his mouth.

Your foreheads were pressed together lovingly, hazel eyes finding your watery gaze easily. Tears pricked the corners. The pleasure curling you into his body.

At this rate, if he kept up his onslaught of devotion, you’d be a mess all over again; shuddering and sighing underneath him in a pitiful fashion. It was his favourite. Watching you crumble under everything he offered you, and by god would he offer you absolutely everything. The mere thought tempting him into overdrive with his impeccable stamina and strength. You could hardly keep up.

Yet with all of his rough ministrations and hungry motivations, there was a loving twitch to his lips — an extra devotion in the roll and smack each thrust brought. The tip of him hammering home on the delicate spot inside of you. Witnessing what each pull and push built up inside of you. It was perfect, feeling you cream all over him thickly. Your perfect moans and hazy eyes only made him love you more.

The only response you’d acquired was a grunt gritted between clenched teeth and panting breaths. His calloused digits feathered into your hair, gathering it into his fist. Nothing about him relented. He could tell by your half lidded eyes that you were nearly there. Expression consumed by an ample amount of bliss. It seeped into the air, boasting an array of vibrant hormones and scents. You were bewitching him with your morality, your head toppling back when he tugged on your hair firmly. The notion only forced him to grow more sporadic. Your content mewls of mercy morphing into the sweaty, salty air. His cool skin warmed by yours alone. Yet deep inside, even you knew that you didn’t possess a desire for him to stop. You wanted this. Wanted it more than you had any other time, because you’d stupidly starved yourself of most of your needs.

Toppling over the edge didn’t seem too far away. You could feel every inch of yourself under the mercy of your painfully vampiric boyfriend. He nurtured you into a quaking mess with his ragged edges, but it was all so utterly perfect. Your throbbing heart thrummed against your rib cage painfully, warping Marko’s features for a second time that night. Though it remained hidden within the cosy crook of your beautiful neck. Each pounding beat synching with his sinful thrusts until everything felt like a hot and heavy blur. Higher and higher you went, rising into cloud nine. He followed behind you, your scent driving him to weakness. He was dizzy, fingers grappling upon your flesh; grasping what he could to both pleasure you and steady himself. Your hands held onto his shoulders, fingers slithering up into his damp curly mullet. Over and over he went, but you held on.

“Let go, babygirl…” he whispered in a strained husky fashion against your sweaty skin.

His elongated teeth grazed the palpitating vein of your sweet spot. They glinted threateningly unbeknownst to you.

A temptation too reckless overcame him. The ruby rushing rivers beneath the surface of fragile skin spoke to him. Sung seductively into his soulless chest. It’s sweet nectar coaxed him in until said sharp teeth grazed a little too harshly. One drop was enough for his tongue to burst to life. Inducing him to suck on the wound. A harsher one warranted more blood to ooze out, and thus you yelped in protest. Though now too delirious to feel much else than the driving force that brought you literally on the edge of your second orgasm of the night. He could barely stop himself, the edge pulling his hips more violently into that back and forth motion — just as harsh but clouded with sloppiness. All until you both spilled over the edge of the cup.

It was a viral shock, numbing your body into intense bliss. A chorus of heightened groans poured from your mouth. Quaking limbs wrapped around his rocking body, pushing his spilled seed further into your womb. A long, husky groan buried itself into your neck — forcing his brief blood drinking to come to a halt. A heavy ’o’ shape formed your lips, throat hoarse from your incessant whimpers. The crash back down to hell was something in itself. Just as intense whilst you both hurtled, twitched and panted down in the fiery centre of the earth. Both of you left joined together from sensitivity. Gazes locked together with a dopey satisfaction. You watched his mischievous grin on his features, gone slightly pink from your blood. Your boyfriend was high on your blood — no doubt because it felt akin to taking a hit of crack. Yet you remained jelly legged, arms unable to move and your mind fuzzy. You were relaxed as he pulled out, admiring his seed trickling from you before he prized his clean crop top from your floor to clean you up.

“You… bit me,” you pouted up at him.

Your own pair of heavy fingertips inspected the small, messy series of puncture wounds engraved into your neck. A form of marking Marko was infamous for implementing. It stung so you winced.

“My bad.” Was all he grinned out in a lopsided fashion.

But it wasn’t an apology. He’d never apologised for such an act — not even in his controlled feeding on you. You were his and he was yours. Maybe he was a little too possessive. Nevermind, because the post orgasm glow only invited him in on shaky forearms. The tip of his nose skimmed your collarbone, inhaling your luxurious scent. His tongue poked out, lapping up the rich droplets you offered him of no fault of your own. It tasted sweet, yet decadent, almost like spiced mulled wine. The coolness of his appendage felt relieving against the hotness of your skin.

“Thank you,” you mumbled sleepily, fingernails softly dragging against his scalp to hone in on the appreciation that swarmed you.

Your gratitude was humorous. It made him chuckle as he pulled back, towering over your fully relaxed body. He tilted his head, “For fucking your brains out?”

“Mhmmmm!” You nodded, adamant.

More laughter propelled from his mouth, because Marko was not quite sure how else to respond. You’d never thanked him for such a thing before, and it was a warrant for teasing that’s for sure. Still, it made his still heart swell a thousand times in size, mimicking the distant feeling of a pulse of his heart. His silent lips pressed ardent kisses to the wound on your neck, running his tongue over the wound only to watch it magically heal somewhat. Then his mouth travelled to your ear, just to hear your soft giggle in time, sleepily stirring beneath him.

“I love you, baby.” A smile evident against the shell of your ear.

“Love you too…” you sighed with your own mirrored grin, all dopey from exhaustion.

The tug of sleep won and you plummeted into the blackness your closed eyelids entailed. It was a warm welcome after weeks of choppy and restless sleep from rampant anxiety. Marko laid there beside you, his fingers hovering over your tired muscles to clean you up and smooth ardent circles into sore patches of skin from his rough handling. An arm of his draped underneath your head as you silently curled into him. Your relaxed breaths tickled the nape of his dewy neck. The dilemma was averted and now he had you back. A few hours was all he could spare before he’d be forced to bid you farewell. The need for the dank darkness of the cave would call to him before sunrise. Yet for now he admired your tranquility with a laboured inhale and exhale. He pulled the covers over you both, hoping that your relaxation would remain until the following night. He’d sweep you away from your work and into the exhilarating arms of a good time. Thundering down the Boardwalk and harbour, perched on the back of his metallic steed. The pair of you damned, left to unleash your sly delightful terror upon Santa Carla. Yes, your absence had been so missed by your boyfriend as he stared up at your ceiling with satisfaction.

“Crisis averted.”

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: 　　 :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

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casualblacklight · 8 months

Text

Missed the GatBoss... so just drew sth small bcs I need it for my soul v.v

#I can't get over what happened...#saints row #gatboss #johnny gat #playa #the boss #fanart #my stuff

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stratossphere · 1 year

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Phone sex w ville 🤩🤩

long distance | v.v

you and ville still find ways to be close despite being thousands of miles apart.

warnings: male!reader, smut, sexting, phone sex, sex over video call, mutual masturbation, sappy fluff at the end <3

word count: 2.8k

a/n: thought i’d combine this ask with some asks that i got about a male reader! hope you enjoy :)

tags: @asskickedbygirl @lieutenant-cinnamon-roll @kissofdawn666 @brandons-wife @valos-venus-doom @ghoulishguns @h3artk1ller @4377666 @d34c1

— —

You hated dating someone in a band. Sure, it had seemed fun in the beginning when all you had to worry about was Ville staying up too late to write songs or spending too many hours in a studio, but now it was different. He was on tour, and he had been gone for almost a month, so you were close to going insane.

You missed him so much that it hurt. Every day in your shared home where you could see his clothes still left out or his belongings scattered around was torturous, and trying to reign him in from his current fast-paced lifestyle for long enough to get more than a five-minute phone call had been nearly impossible. Sure, he sent the occasional picture or two of what he was up to (you deeply appreciated his unamused attempts at selfies), but it wasn't enough. You missed his face, his voice, and nearly everything else about him, and it only got worse as the days went by.

But tonight, you were going to try your chances. You knew he was in the same city for two shows, so he would be in a hotel room for the night and not a crowded bus that made so much noise you could barely ever hear his side of the call. You knew you'd eventually get his attention on a phone call when he found the time, but you were impatient, so you texted first.

You: Are you out of the venue yet?

V: Got in to the hotel a little while ago. Almost cried about having a real fucking bed.

You: Feeling okay?

V: Missing you.

You: Yeah? How much?

V: This much.

[photo attachment]

You stared at your phone in shock for a second, completely taken aback by the fact that Ville had beat you at your own game. Because the picture he had sent you was a low-lit shot of his hand resting over where his cock was clearly hard through his boxer briefs.

You immediately felt your cock stirring in your own pants as you stared at the picture, the sight half-making you deeply aroused and half-making you miss him more than you already did. You knew he must've been feeling the same way, because Ville usually wasn't a huge fan of sexting unless he was really horny.

But he must've been really horny now, because he wasn't done sending messages. Your phone continued to buzz as you quickly kicked your sweatpants off where you were laying in bed, and when you checked the screen once again, your face heated up even more than it had already begun to.

V: I can't stop thinking about your mouth

V: I wish you were sucking my cock right now

[photo attachment]

V: All for you, my love.

Your face was burning as you stared at the picture of Ville's hand wrapped around his fully-hard cock where he had pushed his boxers down just enough to free it. Despite the low lighting in his hotel room, you could still see the dark detail of the tattoos on his arm, and you felt your breathing picking up despite the fact that he wasn't even in the room with you.

You knew you'd been staring at the pictures long enough for him to probably wonder if you were ever going to respond to him, and you quickly rushed to type out a response.

You: Fuck I want you

[photo attachment]

The picture you sent was of your own cock hard against your stomach. Your hands weren't in the picture, but because you'd been so sexually pent-up ever since Ville had left for his tour and he'd barely been available for anything besides five minute check-in calls, a bead of precum was already forming at your tip. You were fighting the urge to touch yourself, as you wanted to wait until you could hear his voice.

Barely 10 seconds went by after you'd sent the picture before your screen was suddenly lighting up with Ville's contact picture (which you had taken when you had found him fast asleep in his studio chair with his head back and mouth wide open), signaling that he was calling you. You picked up just as fast.

"What's up?" You asked casually, as if the both of you hadn't just been sending nudes back and forth. There was a deep chuckle from the other end of the phone, and you shifted your hips uncomfortably at the sound because goddamn did he sound good. His voice was always a little hoarse after shows, and you would've been lying if you had said it didn't make him that much hotter.

"Are you touching yourself?" Ville, however, was never one for soft lead-ins, and you could hear the aroused impatience practically dripping from his voice as he spoke. Your hand that wasn't holding the phone rested low on your stomach, but you weren't touching yourself yet. You wanted to hear him first.

"I was waiting for you." You said softly, heart beating fast in your chest because you could hear his stuttered breathing that told you he was already one step ahead of you. He sighed out another laugh, a slight groan bleeding into his voice as you swallowed back desperation. "Can I?"

"Of course. Good boy." His voice was low as he cooed at you over the phone, and at that point you could no longer hold yourself back from wrapping your hand around your own cock now that you had his permission. You knew you didn't necessarily need it, but you would've been lying if you'd said you didn't like the swirl of arousal you felt in your stomach every time he called you 'good boy'. Of course, he didn't need to know that, but you were sure he knew anyway. "Did you like the pictures?"

"Yeah." You breathed, a soft whine leaving your lips as your hand sped up on your cock where you were touching yourself to the mere sound of his voice. You didn't usually consider yourself to be that desperate of a person, but there was just something about Ville that brought it out of you. "Fuck, I miss your cock so bad, baby."

"Yeah? S' that why you're going so fast?" His tone was almost condescending, and you felt your face burn as you realized that even in different countries, he was able to hear how embarrassingly quick you were fucking your own hand out of sheer desperate want. When you didn't answer, he chuckled through a moan. "Is my boy getting desperate because I've been gone?"

Despite whatever intentions were lying within his mocking tone, all he was doing was making each stroke of your hand on your cock feel better and better, and the picture in your mind of Ville in the exact same position with his legs spread and his head thrown back wasn't helping much, either. You tried to whimper out a response, but your words came out jumbled and unintelligible as you continued to let whines and gasps fall from your lips in a steady stream. Ville inhaled shakily.

"FaceTime me. I want to see you." He demanded, clearly fed up with only being able to listen to the sound of your voice considering you could barely respond to anything he was saying to you. You fumbled on your phone with shaky fingers then, pausing just long enough to use both hands to connect the camera before you were setting it on the nightstand (that was on his usual side of the bed) and going right back to fucking your hand at a frenzied pace.

However, once your phone made the sound that told you the call was connected, your head was immediately tilted towards the screen, and you had to try hard to refrain from cumming right then and there when you got a look at Ville where he had put his phone in a similar position so that you could see him completely from the thighs up.

He was completely naked and laying on top of the sheets, his hotel room still low-lit by a single lamp that you couldn't see. With the low lighting, each groove of rib and every muscle was accentuated by slight shadow, and you swallowed hard when you watched the muscles of his ass move as he fucked his cock into his tightly fisted hand. You truly meant it when you said that Ville Valo was gorgeous.

"Mm, does that feel good?" He groaned as he got his first look at how quickly you were falling apart by your own hand, the sight of you probably not much more than pathetic by this point as you whimpered with every swipe of your thumb over your extremely sensitive tip. When you nodded hard, he only smiled coyly, his head pushing back further against his headboard as he let out another moan. "Fuck, I need you."

Through your pleasured haze, you had enough mind to wait until his eyes had fallen closed before you messily reached out for your phone, quickly taking a screenshot because you knew you'd be missing this sight even more tomorrow when he'd be right back to incredibly busy. He couldn't be there with you to jerk off every day.

"It doesn't feel as good." You whined, the burning need in your chest not enough to stifle the constant reminder that nothing would feel as good as the way it did when Ville was fucking you. You may have known your own body inside out, but somehow it felt as if Ville knew it better, and yet he was thousands of miles away and able to do nothing but talk you through your loneliness. Ville’s lip drew between his teeth, and you felt arousal shoot through your cock in an entirely new wave when he opened his eyes and returned his heated stare to the camera.

“You miss being a crying fucking mess underneath me when I’m fucking you, don’t you, my love?” He sighed, his words coming out drawn-out and breathless as he clearly let his mind stray further in the direction of the pleasure of his own hand as opposed to the coherency of his words.

“Yeah. So bad.” You were practically pouting at the love of your life on the other end of the phone, and you could tell by the aroused spark in his eye as he stared back at you that he was enjoying it considerably. “I want you in me so bad.”

“God, I can’t wait to fuck you on every surface in that goddamn house when I get back. I miss the taste of your cock.” As Ville continued to languidly fuck his own hand, his hips gaining more and more force as time went on, his voice was slowly raising in your pitch, and you could tell that despite how hard he was trying to hide it, he was getting just as desperate as you were. The both of you were hardly focused on anything besides the quick joint pace of your hands stroking your cocks, and being able to see each other in such a fucked-out condition was only making it worse.

“M’ gonna cum. Feels too good.” You could only hold on for so long, and with the filthy words coming from Ville’s lips in a steady stream, you were getting to the point where the pleasure coursing through every nerve in your body was making your head spin. You needed the release that you felt like had been impossible without him, and you couldn’t wait anymore. Luckily, he didn’t seem much further off, and he let out a full-on cry at the sound of your voice as his hips bucked up especially hard towards his hand.

“Let me see it. I need it.” He begged, beginning to lose that cocky facade that he always loved to hold on so tightly to as the muscles in his abdomen began to contract tightly with the slight writhing of his body on top of the sheets. He looked almost angelic when he was this close to orgasm, and if you hadn’t been so close to your own climax, you would’ve been unable to function with the sight. Instead, it was only pushing you closer to teetering over that edge, and you felt the pace of your hand fisting your nearing-oversensitive cock pick up against your own conscious volition.

You fully moaned his name when you finally came, getting one last swipe of your thumb over your tip before your release was spilling all over your fingers and across the warm skin of your abdomen. Your cock was twitching against your fingers, and you only slowed your hand to a stop when your hips began to jerk from the intense pleasure.

You were just able to draw your fuzzy attention back to your phone screen quick enough before you watched as Ville came, his lips parting as a deep groan rose in his throat. Cum spilled onto his stomach in heavy spurts, but he only kept the same pace of his hand, his back arching off the bed as a jumbled mess of filthy words and your name came in breaths while he came down from his high.

He was so perfect. So. Fucking. Perfect. That was the only thought in your dizzy head as you laid boneless in your bed whilst staring at him through the phone screen, admiring every inch of his skin while his eyes were still closed. You missed him so goddamn much that it had been hurting more and more as the days went on, but now you felt a bit more at peace as you got to watch him come back to himself in his most vulnerable form.

Eventually his eyes re-opened as well, and then you just stared at each other for a quiet moment as you both caught your breath and let the power come back to your extremities where it felt like every nerve had turned to jello. After some time, a slight grin formed on Ville’s face that matched the soft look in his eyes.

“I’m so in love with you.” He mumbled softly, the longing in his eyes no doubt matching your own as you watched them admire you fully out of what he could see on the screen of his phone. You only laughed, because he was always so cheesy after you’d (admittedly indirectly) made him cum, before your head fell to the side.

“I miss you.” You said it earnestly this time, without the horny intentions that you had said it with before, because you needed him. Needed to hear his voice, and needed to know that you still had him even though you couldn’t touch him. He sighed.

“I miss you too. Every moment of every day.” He promised, his clean hand running through his slightly-messy hair as he blinked slowly. You smiled at the sentimentality of the fact that the two of you were able to have moments like these even when you were lying in your respective beds across the world from each other with cum still on your hands and stomachs, missing him even more at the thought. “As soon as I can be, I’m yours forever.”

“Can you call me when you wake up and then talk to me until I fall asleep?” It was close to his bedtime for him, but it was still the middle of the day for you, and you didn’t know if you’d be able to spend the next day or so in withdrawal from the sound of his voice. He grinned, grabbing his phone off the nightstand because he knew as well as you did that you were leading into telling him that he really needed to get some much-needed sleep on the rare night that he had an actual bed and a quiet hotel room.

“Of course, darling. Anytime you want.” He promised, unable to stop himself from yawning as his exhaustion clearly came back at full force now that he’d worn himself out even more. You couldn’t help but grin at the sight of him sleepy and spent, grabbing your own phone off your (his) nightstand.

“Okay. I love you, and get some sleep for once.” You let a bit of warning bleed into your tone, because you knew that if you didn’t force him into actually using his time to sleep, he’d wake up ridiculously early to call you three hours before you even went to sleep so that he could talk to you for as long as possible. He gave you a sheepish grin that told you he was thinking about the same thing.

“Okay. I love you too. I’ll talk to you when I wake up.” His sad tone of voice portrayed how little he wanted to hang up the phone, and you felt that longing pulling at your heart for the same reasons as you got ready to hang up and try to occupy yourself until he called again. You could not have possibly been counting the days until he came back home to you any closer than you already were.

“Bye, baby.”

“Bye, my love.”

#ville valo #ville valo smut #ville valo x reader #ville valo fic #ville hermanni valo #HIM #his infernal majesty #jackass #jackass mtv #jackass imagine #jackass movie

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psychotickenesis · 2 months

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I missed service today so my friend grabbed me bread v.v <3yay ppl think of me

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thelittlemermage · 2 years

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There was an article about PlayStation removing people’s purchased movies and someone in the comments dropping this video. Not Foamy warning us this would happen TEN YEARS AGO 😭

#I guess he never miss huh v.v

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ashes-writing · 2 years

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burnin for you pt two | stranger things ; g.emerson

A/N ; So uh... I swear, this is not the chapter I intended to write when I sat down earlier but... I really wanted to give Gareth a moment or two to shine. And I personally feel like he definitely gets mean/mouthy and has anger issues, hates to see people being picked on. So... I guess this chapter stemmed from that. So if you wanna see a grumpy drummer get protective over a 'princess' type.. That is this.

ALSO OMG Y'ALL HAVE ME CRYING RN HAPPY TEARS BC LIKE... i did not think anybody would even look at this when I posted it. The fact that people did and they actually seemed to want to see more, like.. fuck, I'm blown away. emotions, man. Thank you thank you thank you so much you don't know how much it means to me. The feedback and stuff really does help and you don't know how much it inspires me.

Pairing ; Gareth Emerson x Sweet!girly!rich reader.

Timeline / Other Stuff to Note ;

pt one - two - three - four found by clicking since tumblr can't be trusted to show my shit in the tags and it's hit or miss..

set in season four but none of the unholy terrors of the upside down will be happening here. eddie will not be dying. huuuuge note here. Gareth's actions within stem from my own personal headcanons about him having anger issues. And being v.v protective -especially when he's close to someone. Reader, i'll remind you is sweet!girly!rich fem reader. With soooo much insecurity, i s2g. There are reasons for this that are hinted at -will be hinted at. This is gonna be a bit of a slow burn with heaps of sexual tension starting from the next chapter, most likely. Not an intense slow burn but it's not racing towards the finish line either. A jog. that's what this is.

Tag List ; @musichealsscars @aries-arcade @allelitesmut @hcloangcls @krys-orion @rampagewriting --absolutely ignore if you prefer bb and @scoobiessnacks are the only ones I have to tag bc they're on my taglist. if you'd like to be added to my taglists for anything including Stranger things, please let me know or add yourself -> here.

Warnings ; the jocks. they are the warning. there is a confrontation. There is a fight. There is the teeniest mention of blood/injury. There is a v.v. insecure reader. more internal pining on both sides but no real... romantic type stuff... yet.

Other Stuff ; tag list doc || my rules - fandoms and some characters I write for || requests are open (pls.. pls... send me things) but they're limited to headcanon asks + filth/fluff alphabet letters -> send me things.

I do not consent to my work being reposted elsewhere or copied/reworked/rewritten and reposted here or elsewhere. You don't own this, I do. So like... don't steal my shit.

“You.” your nose wrinkles with disgust as you tilt your head slightly and shield your eyes from harsh sunshine above. Mason Allen is standing there, but he’s not alone. No, he’s got two of his idiot friends with him because apparently, stupidity and being an actual creep are spreading diseases. You swallow hard as the three of them step closer. Surrounding you.

“Relax.” Mason’s voice is quiet. His eyes drag over you longer than necessary. Long enough that you pass over from discomfort to real fear. He steps closer to you. Gently guides your chin up to make you look at him and he’s giving you that plastic fake grin when he does it and you just feel so sick… You shove his hand away with disgust and this only makes him step even closer. There’s an angry gleam in his eyes. It’s scary as hell.

“I’ll scream…” you trail off, eyes darting around yet again and finding no one, “ I bite.” you mumble quietly.

And you will. You do. But you’re hoping to fuck that whatever this is, it doesn’t come to that.

Your stomach does a lazy flip.

“You’ve been hanging all over that fuckin little freak like a bitch in heat since you got here. It’s disgusting. I just wanna know what he has that I don’t, sweetheart.”

You rub the bridge of your nose. Now there’s annoyance mixing in with your fear and neither of those are emotions you handle well at all. They both tend to make you mouthy as all hell. And this is not a good time for that to crop up.

This could go very,very badly if you get mouthy.

Before you even have a second to stop and think about it, your eyes are scanning the parking lot a third time, searching for anybody who looks even a little familiar, a little safe.

You’re mainly hoping to find Gareth but you’re pretty sure he was gone the second the bell rang. He doesn’t usually hang around after school for no reason. Except on Hellfire night and that wasn’t tonight. And given that you don’t know for sure what he drives just yet, you can’t tell if you’re right or not.

“C’mon, doll. Answer the guy. We’re just curious. Y’know Carver beat his ass once, right? Last year, actually.” Mason rubs his chin thoughtfully, gazing at you. That stupid fucking pervy gleam in his eyes the entire time. “You really want a pussy like that, doll?”

Carver. That prick. The one who gave you an entire ten minute lecture on those ‘satanists and their fucking cult’. The one who seems to be something of a wannabe cult leader himself. He pretends to be one of those white knight types but there’s something about him that just makes you a little afraid of the guy. The only jock that you’ve met lately that you’re not afraid of at all is the kid Lucas, you babysit for his mother regularly.

But then you stop and think about it, you’re afraid of a lot of things. Insecure as hell.

“Why would you want that when you can have this, hm?” Mason gestures to yourself. And you’re trying so,so hard to bite your tongue, to keep the sarcasm in check so this doesn’t go off the rails somehow.

“ He’s not an asshole who likes to gang up on somebody and scare the living shit out of them, for starters?” you list it off. But you’re in full blown panic mode, so naturally, you don’t stop there. Between the anger and the fear, your mouth is about to land you in serious shit.

Or so you think.

“You’ve been with him almost two weeks. You gotta be gettin tired of the freaks by now. How do you know you don’t like me, hm? You never really gave yourself a chance. You were under him from the word go.”

“Better him than you.” you mumble.

“What the fuck did you just say?” he asks, clenching his fist.

“You’re ugly,deaf and stupid? Damn. Somebody really pissed in your gene pool, didn’t they?” you retort and somehow, while you’re feeling feisty enough to do it, you shove him out of your way and you’re running.

Your only goal is to put as much distance as you can between you and Mason Allen. In the process of running away, you collide with Gareth, who was coming around the side of the building from the shop class on the back side.

“You know I’m right, buddy. You know it, Gare.” Jeff insists. He catches sight of you in a full on blind run and he’s about to nudge Gareth. “Case in point… Do you really think she’d keep seeking you out if she didn’t like you at least a little?”

“We both know what’s going to happen.” Gareth insists, still totally unaware of you, approaching at break-neck speed. He’s looking down at writing covered sneakers. “Just leave it alone, damn it.” he snaps calmly.

“Yeah, I know what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna keep being weird around her til she just leaves you alone. Look, she’s not exactly the most confident… Kinda like somebody else I know.”

And then, it happens.

Gareth glances up to look around, see if he can spot you in the parking lot anywhere and he sees you alright, you’re running straight for him, full-throttle like you’ve got the hounds of hell right behind you.

You collide with him and before he can brace himself and keep you upright, you’re on top of him and his back is against the ground. And he bites back a groan because this is… Not going to help him and the situation he’s in with his little dumb crush on you and he knows it. The way you fell straddling his hips is going to haunt his memory for a long time. Even after you’ve come to your senses and abandoned him and the guys for a chance to be popular.

“C’mon. Run, now.” you’re stumbling over your words as you scramble to pull yourself off of him and trying to pull him off the ground too. Gareth is looking at you with a brow raised, taking in the way you were just running like your life depended on it, the widened panic deer-in-the headlights look on your face, all of it. And he just knows.

Somewhere at the bottom of it all, Mason Allen is involved. The guy’s been sniffing around since your first day. Popping up. Watching you. It’s creepy as hell, it never fails to piss Gareth off and his rants and tangents since this all began and Mason developed his odd fixation on you are nothing short of legendary. It’s just a matter of time until no amount of telling himself this is not his business won’t be enough anymore.

Gareth has been diligently telling himself that this is not his problem and sooner or later, you will wind up among the popular kids and hell, you might even date Mason at some point, pretty girls always go for his type, don’t they?

But seeing you so freaked out. The shake he felt as it raced through your body when you ran into him, nearly knocked him down just now, it starts to sink in.

You’re actually terrified of the guy. Of a lot of people in general, come to think of it. You disguise it with disdain, disgust and sarcasm but the fact remains.

And the anger he’s been telling himself he doesn’t have a right to feel because you’re not his girl, that all comes rushing to the surface real quick.

When this happens, he pretty much decides to hell with running. If the guy scares you this fucking bad, maybe it’s time to put a stop to the him.

Drumsticks and Gareth’s notebooks are shoved at Jeff in haste. “Keep her over here, alright?”

“Gare, wait. There’s fucking three of them, idiot.” Jeff tries to reason but Gareth isn’t listening. He’s probably hit that black out level, the one where he’s not thinking, he’s just angry.

“Keep her over here.” his voice is deathly calm when he turns around to look back at Jeff.

It hasn’t been this calm since way back in sixth grade, right before he completely messed Jason Carver’s face up. What’s surprising is that everyone seems to have forgotten just how scary an angry Gareth Emerson can actually be since then. He’s calmed down a lot since. He tries so hard to avoid fights. Even to a point where he just let Jason beat him up last year.

Jeff sees you about to make a run for it and go after Gareth but he swings his arm out in front of you. “Oh hell no. You’re not going back over there, alright?”

His tone is firm. You swallow hard and nod.

Eddie makes his way out of the back of the school and as soon as he sees what’s about to go down, he rubs his hand over his face. When he spots Dustin, he whistles to signal him over.

“There’s three of ‘em. Me and Jeff need to go help Gare, alright? Gare told Jeff to keep her,” he glances at you, “over here. You’re gonna do that, alright, Henderson?”

“O-okay.” Dustin nods, a little worried because he doesn’t know what the hell is going on. His gaze settles on you and you’re biting the edge of your thumb, you look freaked out. “What happened?”

“Stupid fuckin Mason. Again. I… I collided into Gareth and tried to get him to run but he stormed over there.”

Dustin grins to himself.

The way Gareth protests to anyone who will listen in Hellfire about the two of you not being a thing, this is only proving everyone else right.

“I need to go over there. This is my fault. And like.. He’s the only friend I..” you’re upset, you’re scared and you’re disgusted with yourself because this is completely your fault. There is no mistake. You’re about to lose the only friend you really have, all because you were too pathetic to stand up for yourself.

,, This is precisely why no one ever stick around.” the thought comes and it doesn’t help. Not a bit.

“It’s not your fault. I mean if you were egging it on, I’d say I agree but you’re not. Also, he’s not your only friend, okay? I’m your friend too.” Dustin answers quietly.

“It is my fault. If I would have just been brave enough to deck the guy in the first place..” you glance over just in time to see Gareth put his entire body into Mason’s which sends him sprawling back and doesn’t stop Gareth. Not even a little.

Gareth is straddling him now, he’s got him pinned. “You’re gonna leave her alone… Right, Mason?” he asks, snarling the words as he holds onto the front of the other guy’s shirt. Mason is about to flip him but Gareth uses the fact that he’s actually got muscular legs and more strength in them than anyone really seems to realize to his advantage and he grips Mason’s sides, keeping him from flipping them. “You’re always talkin about us… You guys are the creeps. Not us.” he spits when he says it. “Pickin on somebody who can’t do anything because that’s so manly, right?” he lets go of Mason’s shirt and lets him hit the dirt of the schoolyard.

Jeff and Eddie went over to help out, but so far, Gareth has kept the upper hand. Ducking punches thrown, coming up with his own harder ones, a stray punch or two landing with him but he doesn’t seem to notice.

They’re shocked because the last time Gareth got this angry was all the way back in middle school and it took years for any of the jocks to even consider pissing him off again. Some of them who haven’t forgotten the whole thing still keep a pretty wide berth when it comes to Gareth.

Two of Mason’s buddies act as if they’re going to go help and triple team Gareth but Jeff and Eddie grab hold of them and hold them off with a smirk. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, hm?” Jeff asks, smirking at the one he’s got hold of. Eddie chuckles. “No, no no.. Three on one, that’s not fair, right? You’re gonna stay right here, buddy.” he tells the one he’s grabbed and holding back. “This is gonna happen, bud. Just accept it.”

Gareth happens to look up just as you come running over to try and stop it from getting out of hand and this is what kind of calms him down a little and brings him back to reality. The angry haze begins to clear out and he pulls himself up off of Mason, wiping the back of his hand across his bloodied mouth. “Don’t even look her way again.” is the last thing he tells Mason Allen and Mason waves his hands defensively when he doesn’t answer quick enough and Gareth looks like he’s going to punch him one more time because of it. “Okay, alright. Fuck. I won’t even look at her.” he insists, but at this point it’s as if he’s pleading more than anything, there’s a slight shake to the jock’s voice that has Eddie snickering and Jeff chuckling quietly with amusement.

With the potential that the fight was seen, the jocks scatter away, retreating to the gym. Gareth’s taking deep breaths to calm down. “Dude, you want your emergency inhaler?” Jeff asks when he sees Gareth trying to catch his breath. “Just to be safe, man. I’ll go get it.”

“Yeah.” Gareth answers, panting, digging down into his jeans. He tosses the keys in Jeff’s general direction and Jeff bends down to scoop them up then he takes off towards the truck Gareth drives. You make your way over, wincing and grimacing as you catch sight of the busted lip and the bruise on his cheek.

And you’re conflicted because seeing him get that angry was scary, but on the other hand, if you’d been braver, if you’d stood up for yourself to begin with back around the third day when Mason made this a pattern, it wouldn’t have happened.

You’re worried about him. He could have gotten seriously injured if things had gone just a little differently.

“You didn’t have to do that.” you mumble softly. “I should’ve.. I should’ve done something.”

Gareth shrugs. He really doesn’t say anything. Neither do you.

But you have to do something. You untie the pink silk scarf tied into your ponytail and you step up to him cautiously, holding it out. You wince and you gingerly press the fabric against his mouth. It’s not ice, but it’ll get some of the blood off.

“Dustin?” you motion the younger boy over.

“Yeah?”

You nod to your own bag discarded on the lawn because it was too heavy and you needed to run fast and get the hell out of dodge minutes ago. “There’s a dollar in the pocket. Go get me something cold out of the vending machine, please?”

“On it.” Dustin makes his way over to the dropped bag and picks it up, finding the money. Then he takes off for the gym.

Gareth’s breathing is back to normal and he’s calming down, but he’s kind of thrown for a loop because you didn’t see everything you just saw and run like hell. Or decide that maybe giving in and just hanging out with them was the better idea.

As it sinks in for him, he’s staring up at you.

“I can go if you want.” you mumble quietly, your stomach twisting as you say it.

This has to be too much for him. It has to be.

“No. It’s fine.” he mutters quietly.

You nod. Dustin comes running back over with a cold drink and you hold it against Gareth’s lip. “You shouldn’t have done that. I..I should have done something about it myself.”

“Do what, exactly? He would’ve had his friends waiting. That’s how those assholes operate.” Gareth answers quietly. Hissing at the cold against the heat in his busted lip. Trying to cringe away a little because of it, only to have you step a little closer, just enough that he’s slightly towered over you and your body’s just barely grazing his. The cotton candy scent of your perfume gives him something to focus on and he breathes in and out slowly.

“I know, just..” you take a deep breath. “It’s my fault.”

“But it’s not. You didn’t ask the guy to be a fucking creep.” Gareth states quietly.

You shrug. But you don’t say anything because you don’t know what to say. You only know what you feel and you feel like this is all your fault somehow.

“He didn’t… do anything, right?” Gareth asks, tensing up.

“No, no. No. I ran.” you reassure him. You back the cold drink away from his mouth and grimace, shaking your head.

“Good.” he takes a deep breath or two, relieved. Wincing because his lip is throbbing and he feels like shit after the adrenaline has started to wear down. He’s eyeing the aluminum can in your hand and you pop the tab, holding it out to him. “H-here.”

When he takes it, his fingers brush your hand and for the millionth time, it feels like someone’s just dragged a live wire over him. He takes a sip of the drink and holds it out to you.

You don’t realize how big this is yet. Gareth’s not the one who shares everything easily. The fact that he’s sharing a Dr. Pepper with you right now is definitely a bigger deal than he makes it seem or that you even realize it is just yet.

“Did you drive here?” he asks quietly. You shake your head. “Uh uh. Walked.”

“Do you uh… Do you want a ride home?” he asks quietly.

You nod. If he takes you home, you can at least get him cleaned up a little better.

“Yeah. Only if you don’t mind and it’s no trouble, though.” you stumble over your words. You’re relieved because you know at least two of the jocks happen to live out near the same area as you and you always see them driving past when you’re walking.

Gareth steps closer because something else is starting to sink in. You’re never outright asking for anything nor will you say yes to anything without tacking on “Only if I’m not bothering you” or some variation of it at the end. And he’s starting to realize that really, really bothers him too. Makes him want to find anybody who ever made you feel like you have to make yourself small or whatever it is you’re trying to do and show them how it feels.

And he realizes finally that he can’t just continue on keeping you at an arms length. And he really doesn’t want to, either. Even if all he ever gets is friendship, it’s better than nothing, right?

He decides then and there that yes… yes, it is.

“Hey, Emerson.. We’re going ahead to Grants. Just come by when you get her home.” Jeff calls out and as says it, he nudges Eddie. “Doesn’t have a crush on her my ass, right?”

Eddie laughs, nodding. “Cmon. I gotta stop by Reefer’s on the way.”

– ( an hour later )

“You’re sure this is okay… Right?” you ask him for the third time and Gareth chuckles quietly as he nods. He brings the truck to a stop behind Eddie’s van at the curb of Grant’s house. You’d cleaned out his lip and fussed over the bruise. More than once during the amount of time he was in the house you live in, he got the feeling that you were alone there a lot.

When he asked you about it, you told him your parents were always away with your dad’s work. You acted like it wasn’t a big deal at all but he could tell it bothered you. So, he’d asked again if you wanted to come with him and watch the band practice in Grant’s basement. He’d had to really convince you that it would be fine, that he wasn’t angry about everything that happened in the schoolyard, that no one was, but he managed to and you’d agreed to come back with him.

After changing of course. And if he thought the little soft sundresses in their varying pastel hues were something of a distraction, he had not prepared himself at all for the sight of you in a pair of shorts and a soft pink sweater that hung off of one shoulder with the sleeves hanging over your hands slightly.

Because he’d damn near forgotten to breathe when he saw you.

Your hair was out of it’s usual ponytail and bow and it was loose, a little wild.

He was still trying to decide which way he liked you better.

Distracted as hell and nearly turned down the wrong damn street when he got to the part of town Grant lived in just because you were sitting in his passenger seat.

“I’m telling you, it’s fine. C’mon.” he chuckles quietly and you nod. He gets out and makes his way around to help you out of the truck. The two of you make your way into Grant’s basement via the door on the side of the house and Grant’s immediate response is to grin and high five him and say that he wished he hadn’t missed the whole fight.

Gareth shrugs it off.

Eddie smirks and nods to you. “Decided to come with you finally?”

“Yeah.” he answered, glancing back at you where you’re sitting on an old sofa in the corner. He drags his hand through soft,curly hair and shuffles his feet. “Don’t start shit.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Gare.” Eddie laughs, giving the shorter boy a friendly shove. “C’mon. Let’s play.” he tells the others as he picks up his guitar. You watch as Gareth takes a seat on his stool behind his old drum kit. Scooting forward on the sofa a little more as they cue up a song you haven’t ever heard before, but it’s a little catchy.

You’re bouncing your foot with the music and smiling.

You feel a little more relaxed for once. Hopeful.

Maybe if nothing else, you can finally make friends again…

But there’s that nagging doubt in your mind too… What if you push him away too somehow? What if he’s not what you’ve got yourself thinking he is and the same shit that happened to you before, in your old school, happens again?

All you can do is see where everything goes. Carefully.

#gareth emerson #gareth the great #gareth emerson imagine #gareth emerson fanfiction #gareth emerson fanfic #gareth emerson x reader #gareth emerson x fem!reader #gareth emerson x fem!reader imagine #gareth emerson x fem!reader fanfiction #// all i can say is.. i uh.. have no clue where this came from + say that this is my own personal interpretation of the character so... yep #// fight #// jocks being jerks #// jocks being creeps #// protective!gareth #// goddamn it my boy deserved his moment to shine so here we are.

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