CW/TW: Vomiting, scars, smut
Song suggestions: Talk Dirty by Jason Derulo, 2 Chainz for the line "'Fuck it'", and Okay by Chase Atlantic for the line "I can hear music pounding through the wall."
Wilbur's POV:
When you reach the climax, the only way left to go is down.
* * *
The room is spinning. I'm going to throw up.
Tommy is howl-laughing in my ear as I toss myself at the nearest potted plant to hurl out the contents of my stomach. The voices laugh with him, pounding against my eyes when I puke. Afterward, I sprawl out in a starfish pose, clutching the pot in my armpit, giggling, vision blurred by tears of joy.
"Oh fuck, fuck--" My stomach clenches at another wave of nausea and I vomit into the plant for a second time.
Tommy drunkenly smacks the floor with his palm when he suddenly screams, "I'M GONNA PISS MYSELF!" and dashes into the bathroom. From the sound of it, I think he's peeing with the door open.
Club music pounds in my ears as I stare up at the ceiling of Quackity's destroyed hotel room. The flashing LEDs don't help with the pressure behind my eyes.
People swarm around the room with plastic cups, laughing and screaming and dancing and kissing...
Tommy waltzes back out of the bathroom, offering me his hand to help me climb to my feet.
"Did you wash?" Based on his reaction, I decide to pick myself up.
The second I stand, I immediately collapse onto the nearest couch, groaning as a blast of nausea sends my stomach into a frenzy. "Tommy, Tommy-- PLANT!"
He shoves the pot into my outstretched hands just seconds before I throw up for the third time.
Tommy flops down beside me. "Shit, Wil... What'd'ja even drink? This never happens," he slurs, gently patting my back even after I've cleared my stomach.
I wipe my forehead and unbutton my shirt a few notches. "I dunno. I can't remember anything," I grumble over the whispering of the voices, setting the plant down and holding my thundering head.
"I know who would cheer you up," Tommy teases suggestively as he jabs his elbow into my rib, immediately dropping the smirk when he meets my deadly gaze. "...Vodka?"
"Fuck it," I sigh.
We stumble to our feet and into the kitchen, where, through the crowd, I catch a glimpse of Slime pouring out a line of shots.
After determinedly shoving my way through the swarm of bodies, I snatch the bottle of vodka out of his hands and start chugging. When the crowd begins to take notice, they let out a series of scattered cries encouraging me to get on the island in the center of the kitchen.
With a bark of laughter, I fulfill their request by clambering on top of the counter, kicking shot glasses and red plastic cups out of my way. The crowd chants, the room wavers, the bottle empties, and the music blares.
So, when they tell me to sway, I sway.
When they tell me to sing, I sing.
When they tell me to drink, I drink.
To the delight of the throng, I sprawl out on my back over the counter space, belting my throat out with slurred speech.
The voices melt into the thrum of the crowd.
YOU ARE READING
Silver Tongues and Golden Scars (WILBUR x QUACKITY / TNT DUO)
Fanfiction"Quackity?" I spin around, tackling him and tumbling roughly into the wall behind us. I pin his wrist down, tears dropping onto his soon-to-be crimson shirt. I can almost see the blood seeping out of the wounds I intend to slice into his skin. His p...
